#if i get a condolences letter i sure hope it's on a day I don't have work

[the-yearning-astronaut]

.

#oh the longer i go without hearing from my preferred grad school #the more my heart sinks #especially since they usually have offer letters out by the end of Jan #AND they interview prospective students on their short list before they send those offer letters out #and im HOPING i haven't heard anything from them yet because the applications are taking longer to go through #idk #im trying to stay positive but its jan 26th and i haven't heard a thing #based on how upset i am just thinking about not getting in..... #if i get a condolences letter i sure hope it's on a day I don't have work #i just want to research titan and Enceladus 😭 #and i want to have a large enough stipened that I don't have to pick up a second job while also learning and researching and TAing lol #fuck im tired of being in limbo #☉ #tbd

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 28

part 1 | part 27 | bonus stobin scene | ao3

cw: anxiety attack, graphic thoughts of death

Chapter 7

Steve's mom leaves the week before Thanksgiving.

No preamble, no notice, no "so long and thanks for paying rent," just— poof. Gone. Ta-ta, kiddo. Have a great life!

(Or don't!

Who cares?

Not me, that's for sure!)

The worst part is Steve finds out from Ernie of all people. Ma couldn’t even tell him to his face that she’s abandoning him to the gaping maw of this hellish town because she’s a good-for-nothing coward. Some day this place is gonna swallow him whole, splinter the bones and cough up the pellet, and Florence Harrington will be somewhere far, far away, sighing empty condolences over a fresh glass of red. “Just dreadful, isn’t it? Such a pity; what a shame.”

Steve’s hanging towels on the clothes line the day after the party — after the ride to drop off Max and the hangover brunch with Robin; after drowning his headache in Tylenol and finally getting home, only to realize that he can’t shower yet because all the towels are soaking wet — when Ernie looks up from his yardwork and casually ruins his goddamn life.

“You're wastin' your time with that,” he says, propping his weight against a rake and squinting at Steve in the mid-afternoon sun.

“What?” Steve frowns; hangs another towel. It's not like they're going to dry themselves. "Why?"

"Too cold."

"It's not supposed to rain, though, is it?"

"No, but the humidity—"

Screw the humidity. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ernie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He turns his attention back to his yard, dragging the rake over a smattering of damp leaves; obsessed with keeping his little patch of lawn pristine; and Steve reaches into the hamper and sincerely hopes that Ernie’s wrong. He needs a shower, and if the towels don't dry fast enough they get that gross mildew smell to them, and then it gets in Steve's hair, and how is he supposed to flirt with Eddie if he smells like musty lake water?

"Where's your mom off to, anyway?" Ernie asks after a moment. "Saw her leave this morning with two big suitcases,” he explains when Steve throws him a questioning look. “Figured she was off somewhere nice.”

Steve blanches.

Two big suitcases?

He didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here. Feels like a stupid, selfish asshole now, because he’d called ‘ma, I’m home!’ when he got in earlier and had thought nothing of her complete lack of response, the peaceful silence of the house; had welcomed it at the time, even, and what if—

Oh, god, what if she’d died?

What if she’d been lying there dead in her room, and Steve didn’t bother to check because he was too busy thinking about himself and how nice it was not to hear reruns on the TV for once? How long would she have lain there, rotting and bloated, and— and how long would his dad have, if the gunshot hadn’t rung out? How long; how long? Bleeding out on the carpet gurgling fish sounds everything red and Steve can’t breathe—

“Did she—?” he pants. Brings a hand to his throat; tries again. “Did you- see who she left with?”

“Some woman. Relative of yours, maybe? I didn’t get a good look at her. Had a real fancy car, though. Mercedes, think it was.”

Steve chokes on his own spit. Feels his throat close up, his heart pound and his ears ring and the yellow-purple-black start creeping in like vines at the edge of his vision, like demogorgon claws; like death’s shark-toothed grin. Hungry, howling, happy as it takes a bite out of him.

“You alright?” Ernie asks.

Steve grinds his jaw so hard he feels something crack. "Excuse me," he grits out, stomping back into the house.

—

"Fuck!" Steve shouts to his empty house — to the sun-faded paneling, to the weird stain in the orange carpet. Fucking Cecelia; fucking hell.

He cleans the house in a rage, eyes hot with unshed tears, and there's a note on the breakfast table. Crisply folded on plain paper, prim cursive letters, almost comically estranged:

Steven,

Apologies for short notice. Gone to stay with Aunt Cece in Evanston. Call or visit if you like.

— Mom

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving

The words leave papercuts in his throat. Steve rips the note to tiny pieces, can hardly see for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he's not crying over this; he's not. He fucking refuses.

Somewhere along the way, the cleaning turns to blind destruction, demolition of the all the little scraps of life mom left behind: her creepy angel figurines, her vintage Pyrex dishes, an empty bottle of old perfume. Steve hurls them all against the living room wall, delights in the shimmering pile of broken glass at his bare feet. Wants to crawl over it on hands and knees. Wants to burn this place to the ground.

When the sun dips below the trees he goes back out to check the towels. The air is wet, bitterly cold; nips at his hands when the wind blows, and the towels hang heavy on the line, just as damp as before but now the slightest bit stiff with the first creep of frost.

"FUCK!" Steve roars, ripping a towel down off the line. Yanking each one down in turn, throwing them into the dirt, raging, "What! Is! The fucking! Point!"

His tears spill over then, hot and wet as he sinks to his knees with a wounded growl, and he chokes there in the dirt; the cold, wet mud, the patchy grass. Gravel digs into his shins, and sobs wrack his chest, capsize him like plunging waves, and he can't do anything but shake and cry where the whole neighborhood can see. Making a commotion; making a scene, as his mother would say, but his mother's not here. She fucking left. She left him here, and his dad did, too, and Steve is utterly, truly, hopelessly alone.

"Come on, son."

And there’s Wayne Munson, coaxing him up off the ground with a sure, strong grip. Steve makes animal sounds as Wayne lifts him under the arms — ruined hiccups, mangled wails. There's mud in his lungs. Ocean silt; sucking sludge.

His mother's gone.

"Easy now," Wayne shushes; hugs him hard against his side. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

—

part 29

tag list under separate reblogs, comment if you’re over 21 and want to be added tomorrow

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #wayne munson #cw: angst

[steveshairychest]

After defeating vecna for a second time, Steve decides he's had enough of Hawkins and all things supernatural.

After hunting around for a few weeks, he scores himself a quaint little apartment big enough for him and for Robin when she eventually moves in after college. He doesn't sell his parents' house or demolish it like Robin suggests. No, he leaves it to sit and rot. He hopes his parents will come home one day and find it overgrown and falling to pieces, hopes they'll trudge up the steps to find the note that he had nailed to the front door that says, 'Welcome home :)'. Robin insisted on adding the passive-aggressive smiley face.

They move away from Hawkins and don't think about it for years. Sure, Steve still calls their friends who decided to stay there, and he often finds himself missing their company, but he doesn't miss the place itself. Only the people. He's made it very clear to them that he doesn't intend to step a single foot back into Hawkins until he dies. Everyone knows this, especially Robin, who's been informed on multiple drunken occasions that Steve wants to be buried on top of the hill next to Eddie so that he at least knows someone else in the graveyard.

But then he gets a letter in the mail, a simple letter in a white envelope and it haunts him for days.

The letter is from Wayne. His handwriting is rough and messy but familiar; they've been sending each other letters for a few years now. The cigarette ash smudged in some corners makes him smile. Most of the letter is just niceties; asking Steve how he is, what he's been up to, if he's found himself someone. Stuff he's used to. But then the words, 'I can't be alone for it Steve, I can't do it. I need you here. It's been 5 years, and the day still hasn't gotten any easier. I'd like it if you came to visit.' They punch Steve in the gut and leave him aching for days.

It takes him an entire week to call the number on the back of the envelope and confirm with Wayne that he'll be there. Just this once he'll go back to that retched place. For Wayne.

For Eddie.

The drive passes by in a blur, one second he's on the highway, the next he's passing by the Welcome to Hawkins sign and driving along the streets he thought he'd never see again. Wayne told him over the phone that morning to meet him at the cemetery, said that he wanted to get the hard part over and done with so that they could spend the rest of the day catching up and listening to Eddie's tapes. He'd be lying if he said he didn't cry for a solid 10 minutes in the car park, the memories that he had tried so hard to forget rushing back the second he lays eyes on Eddie's grave at the top of the hill.

He still remembers the hollow ache in his chest the day he helped Wayne pick out a spot. He had gone home that afternoon and begged Robin to make it stop, to hold him and tell him that the pain would go away. She had told him what he wanted, she had held him on the kitchen floor and promised he would never have to feel like that again.

She'd lied. That same ache spreads throughout his body as he trudges up the hill to stand before the shabby grave and the tears he thought he had left back in the car come bubbling back up as he stares down at the graffitied headstone. He hasn't seen it since the day he left. He forgot how overwhelming it is to see Eddie's name carved on the headstone.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited." He says through sobs, his vision blurred by tears as he plops down on the soft grass in front of the headstone. "I miss you." The words almost choke him.

There's the sound of footsteps behind him, boots crunching against the leaves and twigs. Wayne must have finally shown up. Steve doesn't turn around, he doesn't want Wayne to see his tears. He's supposed to be here as support. He's supposed to be the one coming up behind Wayne to offer his condolences. He stops beside Steve and sighs softly.

"Hi." Steve says weakly and finally looks up at Wayne - except... it's not Wayne.

"Hi, Steve."

It's Eddie.

#DUN DUN DUNNN N #interpret this however you want <333 #steddie #tw mentions of death #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #wayne munson

[loveyourlovelysoul]

I recently started journaling, just keeping a digital diary for a month how and ever since she passed I've turned my 'dear diary' entries to 'dear mom' to dedicate all my thoughts at the end of the day to her, like we used to talk about everything. I tell her all I'm feeling and hope she knows she can rest now. I guess i just wanted to vent about it. Thanks for reading 💗 hopefully i can find ways to get adjusted to this grief.

Hey you :) Forgive me if I am only sharing this part of your ask.

First of all, thank you for sharing such a heart-breaking experience with me. I am very sorry about your loss and my deepest condolences go out to you and your family. It's indeed a tragedy, also seen how much she wanted to live, for y'all too.

I'm not religious either but I call myself spiritual. I personally found comfort in realizing (and experiencing myself) that the souls of those we love(d) do stay around us even when we cannot see their bodies anymore. And they do send us messages and signs, maybe through random images/shapes, words, sensations, smells but even more dreams. They can still connect with us, when we need it the most. But we don't have to overstress and search for signs constantly... which is something that may happen to some (not talking to you now, js in general). They will reach for us when it's time.

I understand your worry about her, and I get why you feel so lost and confused, and your thoughts are running so fast, having had to say goodbye to such an important figure for you so suddenly. It's earth-shattering to say the least. When I lost my dear ones I told myself "At least they're not suffering anymore", and it somewhat made me feel a bit better about them, leaving most of the remaining grief/closure on me, on the relationship we had. But probably their situation was different from your mom's one. Idk.

The only thing I think I can say to you now is: let these feelings flow inside of you freely. And keep journaling about them, about everything you need. Keep sharing your pain with those around you, if you can. Give yourself time, try to go as slow as you can and cry anytime you need. You'll find a new balance within about this new reality, it will happen at the right time. Right now, let confusion, pain and all your emotions be there, and take care of those feelings, accept and nurture them. Especially when things seem so hard, everything is so silent and heavy and memories and pain come back to you to shout at you. If you cannot deal with all that in a precise moment ofc take a break, be nice and compassionate with yourself always, but when you can, come back and give it all the attention it deserves. Give yourself and your emotions the attention y'all deserve. Hug yourself in any way you can. And ask for help: you don't have to deal with all that alone. It's a huge thing. And yeah, grieving is a very complex path, try to not rush through it or neglect your own emotions and needs. Stay by your side and also do things you like doing when you can.

I am sure your mom is listening to each of your letters, and will soon send you signs about her being okay and still around you to guide you.

I'm sending you a huge hug. You will make it, I'm sure. Take care of you<3

And if you need to vent again, here I am. My dms are open too.

#tw death mention #asks #tw loss #tw grief #tw spirituality

[queers-gambit]

Also just had this Max x reader idea, which is angsty as heck. So reader writes these love letters to Max signed with 'your secret admirer', and puts them in Max's locker everyday. Max and reader are besties and everyday Max would gush about how she get's these love letters and she want's to know who they are from. One day Max runs to reader and says something like 'I KNOW WHO THE LETTERS ARE FROM'. Reader is like who? and Max say's it's from Lucas, she's sure of it. (Lucas doesn't know about the letters) Before Max finds Lucas reader finds him first and tells him just to act along with everything Max says. Max finds Lucas and tells him she likes him too and thank him for the letters. Lucas confronts you about it but you just brush him off. Later they get together and one day Max get's this letter (same style as the love letters) thinking it's from Lucas. But it says something close to the lines of 'I wrote the letter but don't get mad at Lucas I told him not to tell you. I've decided to have a fresh start' signed with your best friend. That's when Max realizes reader wrote it, but it's too late. Reader has already moved out of town (Or smth along those lines). Thank you, and I've just realized it's such a long req! - N

see my thing with long reqs like this is that you've already basically written it yourself!! keep going!! even if it's short - keep writing!! it's so good - keep going!

but i hope this is what you were thinking!!

pairing: Max Mayfield x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

• ah, but imagine before Billy dies, Max still has her cutie carefree attitude and she's all excited and running up to you - 'cause holy shit, man, someone likes her!?

• yeah, she's shocked. and you think it's very cute but then imagine the way your heart plummets when you hear her guess it's Lucas.

• maybe you know about an impending move and that kicks your ass into gear to write her letters. but when the move becomes set in stone, you're honestly panicking because you'd worry about feeling unfulfilled if you left without saying how you really felt.

• the unfairness of unrequited love means it often IS too late so you'll wait until THAT day you're moving to convince your mom to drop you at school. maybe you lie and say you forgot something in your locker. but you're there to slip the note in Max' and then hop back in your mom's car before rolling out of town.

• you listen to cassette tapes of your's and Max' favorite tunes. staring out the window, passing landscape, listening to music while in an angsty mood? definitely living out some music video in your head.

• poor babies.

• and Max is shocked and devastated to realize the truth. and how she didn't mean to break your heart but it happened - and there wasn't anything changing that.

• i'm gonna believe there's something that happens, maybe a grandparent still in Hawkins dies, and you have to come back to town. the whole party comes to pay their respects but Max is tongue tied by how much you've changed.

• she'll buck up the nerve before moving closer to you and offering her condolences. after the initial pleasantries pass, you're both standing there awkwardly because what're you supposed to say.

• and Max is telling you she got your letter before confessing how guilty she felt over never knowing - but that nothing could come of this. the distance was too great.

• so, you compromise. every Thursday, she calls you because of the time difference. and you talk about your weeks, update on life events, and make plans (that you'll never follow through on) for the school breaks. it hurts, but sometimes pretending she's still so close is comforting.

• and nothing was risk losing your best friend over, but with distance comes room for new adventures and love. you might always harbor a love for Max in your heart, but it's okay, because you'll meet new people who all harbor qualities she has but to different capacities.

• maybe you'll meet Max again in the future, maybe not. either way, you'll never regret leaving those love notes - because it taught you how to be vulnerable. something not everyone gets to learn or experience.

• you know what they say - every one you meet is either a blessing or a lesson and it's up to us to eventually decipher their impact to our lives.

#max mayfield #max mayfield x y/n #max mayfield x female reader #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield headcanons #max mayfield stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanon

[mental-health-advice]

I've started to confront my mother about abusive behaviors and it has unfortunately made things a lot worse for me because it's started to make me realize that she's actually just not a good or kind person. And so I don't know how I could ever even make her understand or change her behavior and treatment of me because you just make somebody care about others. Or, at least, i definitely don't know how to and I need to take care of myself and heal first. Unfortunately, I don't know how i can while still living under her roof and relying on her because I'm too mentally and physically unhealthy to work or even leave the house most days. If you sever ties, I lose her help. If I engage, I get hurt. I'm feeling kind of stuck. I guess I'm looking for help or tips to just get out of the situation as an adult. I can't move in with any family or friends. I am about to start therapy and may be able to get disability benefits but even if i qualify, im not sure it's possible to live independently like that. And whether can take care of myself while living independently is definitely a big question but going and trying is better than living here. Thank you in advance for and help or tips or condolences at all, I think what you guys do here is great. <3

Hey there,

This is a really difficult situation to be in because as you mentioned your damned if you do and damned if you don’t to put it simply.

I think it’s a really positive step that you are starting therapy and I will cross my fingers that you do qualify and get disability benefits (which I am sure you will) and the fact that you have a plan and have been thinking about at least moving out of your home and living independently is a great step as well. In terms of if you will be able to live independently or not, you may have places where you can live in supported accommodation or have if you do live independently then have someone come over daily to help you with daily tasks. So, this is something to definitely look into when you get a chance!

In regards to your Mum, I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you to be living at home with her. It sounds as though you are wanting to try to work things out with your Mum and her abusive ways but that there have been some repercussions in doing so. I think in this instance, like you mentioned it is best to first look after yourself, try to heal and make sure you are in a good place before trying to work things out and confront her. The last thing we want is for you to try to work through all the abuse issues that have arisen in the past with your Mum when you are not going great yourself only to have you regress further backwards if that makes sense?

I am not exactly sure how you might confront your Mum when you are ready to do so but maybe a good starting point may be to write her a letter if you feel comfortable doing so. This may take the pressure off of you a bit and will leave the ball in your Mums hands with how she then responds to you and what you have to say. Writing a letter will also enable you to get out what you need to say but in a nice-ish way that won’t be attacking your Mum as such even though it may feel like you really want to right now.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and that you are able to start therapy sooner rather than later or that at the very least you can apply for disability benefits before starting. If you see your local doctor or GP then they may be able to get the ball rolling!

I’m thinking of you, hope you are doing OK and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #anonymous #Mum #abusive behaviours #confronting Mum #starting therapy #disability benefits #living independently #getting help

[maxburnett]

Last Dance, Bucky Barnes

Written for @buckyblues 4K Writing Challenge

pairing: 1940sFem!reader x 1940s!Bucky Barnes

genre/warnings: Angst/Fluff/Romance/Smut This fic involves smut! If you are under 18 please do not interact with this fic. Mentions of character death. Sad Bucky and Sad Reader :( Also, there's some Stucky in here if you squint on that note I left the ending up to your interpretation! Based off of the song/lyrics of the song Last Dance by Donna Summer Hope you enjoy the fic! Please reblog and review if you can ♥

words: 2,471

summary → You and Bucky have been dating for 6 months and he has some news that will change your life.

Bucky sat beside Steve as Steve drove down the road; he looked down at the old copy of The Hobbit in his hands that had your bookmark inside it. Something that one of his nieces had given him that his sister had held onto for all those years. He opened it up and saw an old sketch that Steve had drawn of the two of you all of those years ago; he closed his eyes as a single tear fell, and he brushed it away. All he could think about was you. The way you smiled, the way your lips felt against his. Sometimes he felt like he could feel your lips on his skin. But that was merely wishful thinking. He closed his eyes, holding the book close as he let his eyes drift off to sleep.

You smile as you sit beside Bucky, your head on his shoulder as he has his hands in yours. You're enjoying the sound of the music that's coming from the record that he had put on. He liked to listen to soft, slow music, but you were always more captivated by his eyes and his jawline than the music that played.

You and Bucky had been dating for 6 months, but your friendship had been just as long as his and Steve's had been. You had once punched a guy who was picking a fight with Steve, and they welcomed you into their close-knit friendship.

The relationship had been just kissing and cuddles and Bucky's hands up inside your shirt to feel your skin. He had told you that you were worth more than any other girl he had dated and that he loved you more than he's loved anyone ever in his life. You smile as you think back to the day he first told you that he loved you. He had been staring into your eyes while he had an arm around you as you read The Hobbit sitting beside him.

"Doll," he had whispered, causing you to look up at him. "I love you so much," he murmured, taking in how beautiful you looked as you read. "I love everything about you, doll," he said, causing a smile to spread across your face.

Steve sat in a chair facing the two of you, absentmindedly shading a drawing of the two of you. Bucky had been quiet, which wasn't like him. You gently moved your hand to his face, pulled his head to face yours, then looked deep into his cerulean eyes. Your fingers gently moved up his delicate features. He finally leaned a little, kissing your fingers as they were close to his lips.

"James," you whisper as his eyes find yours. He looks down at his hands that you take hold of.

At the mention of Bucky's first name, Steve closes his notebook, knowing that you only called him James when you wanted to talk about something serious. He walked back to his bedroom then you heard the sound of his door shut.

"James. Look at me. What's on your mind, Love?"

"I haven't told Steve ... you have to promise me you won't," he whispers.

"Told Steve what?" You ask, your hands finding his as he looks into your eyes before looking back down.

"I enlisted," he whispers. The slight smile that you had on your lips suddenly disappeared.

"Bucky," you whisper, as you could feel tears beginning to form. You closed your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him. He took your head into his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. The kiss was like no other kiss he had given you before. Soon you pulled away breathless. You clung to him as the tears fell.

"I love you. I have to do this, Doll," he says, his forehead pressed against yours. He takes your hands in his and pulls you up with him. He turns the record player's volume up a little higher. Placing his arms around your waist, he pulls you against his chest, your head resting into his white shirt as he leads you in a dance. You cry into his chest as he rests his head down against yours.

"I love you so damn much," he murmurs as he kisses the top of your head.

"I love you too, Buck," you whisper. He gives you a small smile as he continues to hold you against his form as the two of you dance with you in his arms.

"James. I don't know how I'm going to get through this. I need you by me ... without you, I don't know what I'm going to do," you murmur, looking up at him. "Make love to me," you as quietly as you could. You knew there was no guarantee that he would make it back. "Please ... make love to me," you say as the tears ran down your cheeks.

He kissed you and gently picked you up into his arms. Then, carrying you into his bedroom, he laid you onto his bed.

He laid above you, his elbows holding him up above your frame. He looked down into your eyes, his face softening as he wiped your tears away.

He kissed you. You closed your eyes as your hands ran into his hair. Your body lifted a little as he reached to pull your blouse over your head. He placed sweet, gentle kisses onto your neck, his lips moving down to your white bra as you guided his hands to the clasp so he could unclasp it.

The bra fell to the bed. You looked down into Bucky's as he placed his mouth over one of your hard nipples. You moaned and tugged on his hair and felt his tongue circling around the sensitive bud.

He placed sweet little kisses all over your breast before moving over to the other nipple and repeating it again for that breast.

You moaned as he moved lower, his fingers pulling at your skirt to push it down your legs. You wiggled out of it ad kicked off your shoes as he placed gentle kisses onto your tummy.

You could feel his lips going lower and lower until his fingers were hooked on each side of your white panties. He pulled them down, and you pushed them off with your toes before biting your lip as he looked up at you and then at your wetness.

"Already so wet for me," he murmurs and gently runs two of his fingers into your folds. You buck your hips against him, and he smiles.

"We got all night, doll," he murmurs before kissing your thigh as he pushes a finger inside of you and looks up at you loving the noises that you were making and the feel of his fingers being deep inside you. "Taking my fingers s' well." He smiles as he kisses your tummy after kissing his way up your thighs.

"Shit. Feels so good, Buck," you murmur as your hands find your breasts, and you rub them. He smiles as he rubs another finger over your clit, and your hands leave your breasts and go to his head. You pull on his hair as he removes his fingers and replaces them with his mouth.

"Taste s' sweet." He says against you before pushing his tongue gently into your core. It takes everything inside you not to rub against his face, but the moment he begins to lick and suck on your clit, you come undone, moaning out his name.

"That's my good girl," he says against you, then kisses your tummy before he lays back and pulls your naked body over his.

"Buck," you murmur. "Can I taste you?" You asked with a blushing face.

"Sure thing, doll," he says and kisses you before lying back and allowing you to undress him. You kiss his stomach and look up at him, your eyes filled with innocence and all of the love that you held for him. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry, but there was a sad way that he looked at you. You took a deep breath and continue to push his boxers down.

Your hands kneaded Bucky's thighs. He let out a gasp when your hands wrapped around his erection, slowly moving it up and down as you bit your lip and looked up at him.

"Oh God," he said, closing his eyes and placing his hands gently into his hair. "So good, doll. Your touch feels so good,"

"You like my hand ... wait until my mouth is on it," you say with blushed cheeks. Eventually, you took the tip of his erection into his mouth and took him in slowly. You gave yourself time to adjust as you looked up at him as you bobbed your head up and down slowly. His moans filled the room and Bucky pulled your hair gently.

"I need to be in you," he murmured. "Please," he said as he looked into your eyes.

You removed your mouth from his erection and kissed up his stomach and laid above him, and kissed his lips. His eyes landed on yours as he rolled you over, so he was on top again. He pushed into you slowly as you moaned out and held onto him.

"So tight," he murmured against your lips. His head leaning against you, he continued to slowly push into you, not wanting this night to end. If this was his last time with you, his last dance with the woman he loved more than anything. He wanted it to last as long as possible.

After a few minutes, you pulled on Bucky's hair pulling his hips closer with your legs. He kissed you and leaned his forehead against yours as he came deep inside you and your body began to shake as your own orgasm had your whole body shaking. He stayed inside you and held your body against his, his hand moving up and down your back, and the moment that the two of you pulled away and he pulled out of you made you feel like a knife had been slid into your stomach. He held you close like you were part of him and lazily kissed your head.

"Doll," he whispers.

"Mmmmm?" Was all you could get out due to your eyes getting heavy.

"Let's get married," he says and looks down at you. "Before I head out ... you Steve and I ... let's go to the courthouse and let's get married," he looked at you with pleading eyes, and you leaned and kissed him and nodded your head.

You and Bucky were married the following week. But, unfortunately, he was shipped off two weeks after that.

The day that you had gotten the letter of condolence was the most challenging day of your life. First, finding out that your husband wasn't coming back to you hurt. Then you learned that you had a small part of him inside you when you found out you were pregnant.

When you found out that Steve had saved him and that he was alive, he had sent a letter explaining everything to you. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, but it got ripped away from you when you got another letter saying he was presumed to be dead.

The day you learned that he was missing and that he would never make his way back to you, you wanted nothing more than to go with him, but you knew you couldn't. You knew you had to give his little girl the amount of love that he had always given you. You gave birth to a healthy baby girl with eyes as blue as Bucky's and a soul even brighter than his smile that both haunted and soothed your dreams. It was in your dreams when you slept that you sometimes found peace in knowing that that night many years ago wasn't your last dance.

"Buck," a voice sounded, and Bucky opened his eyes and stretched his legs as he sat up. "We're here," he said as he looked out at the old-looking building. Bucky nodded his head and rubbed the back of his neck as they both got out of the car.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I'll be okay," he said as he got out of the car, leaving the book in the seat. He walked towards the house and up the stairs and knocked on the door, and waited.

"Just a second!" A voice said from the other side. The door opened a young woman smiled up at him. "Hi! You must be James!" she said and led him into the building and down a few halls.

"You're sure there's nobody else?" Bucky asked as they walked down the hall.

"Yeah, we had lawyers check. Your wife only had one child, and when your daughter and granddaughter passed, there was nobody else," She said before they walked into a room at the end of the hall.

They entered a room where he saw a woman sitting on the floor playing with a little girl with (Y/H/C) hair giggling as she held a Captain America figure in her hand.

"Lilly," the woman said down to the little girl who turned and smiled up at Bucky. "This is James. He's going to be taking care of you,"

"Please call me Bucky," James said with a smile as he looked at the Captain America Figure she held tightly to.

He leaned down to look at Lilly, his great-grandaughter that he was now the guardian over, and she smiled as she wrapped her arms tightly around him. Then, he closed his eyes, picked the little girl up, and headed to fill the final papers out, confirming that he had officially adopted Lilly.

He walked her out holding her hand, and Steve smiled as he walked over to where they were standing, and he leaned down to look at the little girl and smiled up at Bucky.

"You must be Lily," he said with a smile. "It's so good to finally meet you," he said as he stood beside Lilly and took her other hand in his. "What do you say we all head home?"

"Yeah!" She giggled. "You look like my figure," she said, holding it up as they got to the car.

"Why guess I do," Steve smiled as he opened the door and showed Bucky how to buckle Lilly in. Once Bucky got all the buckles done, Steve closed the door and smiled at Bucky.

"Are we really doing this?" Bucky asked as he rubbed the back of his neck with a small smile.

"Are we raising a kid together? We sure are Punk," Steve says with a broad smile as Bucky grins over at him and looks at Lilly through the window as she placed her Captain America figure into the seatbelt of her booster seat with her.

My Tag List:

@balenciagabucky @belladonnabarnes @bibbidibobbidibucky @bitchassbucky @bloomingbucky @bucksfucks @buckyblues @buckys-blue-eyes @faeryloki @fairyevans @fallinforevans @fluffycutecevans @fuckandfluff @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @lokiscollar @mickey-henry @midnightf @onceuponabarnes @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @syntheticavenger

#buckyblues 4k writing challenge #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x smut #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x smut #sebastian stan x you #nic.doc

[faegirly]

A Letter from Byakuya Togami

alongside the oneshots, i also sometimes write small letters from characters to the reader. a little different but the encouragement is all the same. there are references to an unsupportive family and home life so, please bear that in mind. i hope those who need some encouragement for this find it so 💫

~

Good day.

Let it be known that I am not one for communicating with anyone unless completely necessary, and normally I would reserve my sensibilities for those who are truly worth my time... but I would be a liar if I didn't admit that you have crossed my mind recently.

Briefly, mind you. Don't start thinking this is a common occurance.

Most of all, I am writing to you to clear my head. I don't waste my time with unnecessary emotions, but my day would become significantly inefficient if I didn't deal with the source of my turmoil, which just happens to be you.

From a source I don't need to name, I've learned that you are dealing with a level of stress that is making it difficult for you to live a fulfilling life as you wish to. While I don't give my condolences to many, I... I will offer them to you. No one deserves to be stopped from living the life they want and deserve just because another person doesn't want to face the fact that they have been living a lie or that they aren't as educated and aware of the world as they thought.

Unfortunately, I'm unable to come to you and sort this nonsense out myself, show those infidels just who you're associated with, but since I cannot at present, I will give you some small advice using this medium of a letter. This doesn't happen often, so make sure you pay attention.

As hard as it may seem to face such... idiots, frankly, on a daily basis and put up with their incompetence, you must always remember your worth. You are more than they can ever say you are, and that will never change.

Their rejection of you only reflects their own stupidity, not yours, and while it may feel easier said than done, you must always remember that you are worth happiness and freedom to live by your own terms. Everyone deserves to live in a safe and stable environment with people who support them no matter what, but beyond that, you know yourself better than they ever will, meaning that by default their thoughts on what they think you should be or who they think you are are irrelevant, even more so than before.

I don't want to get ahead of myself so I will leave it here for now. But... I suppose if you ever need my advice again, don't hesitate to reach out. I know how it feels to experience a... soul crushing despair, though I can't imagine what it's like to live in a place where that's only magnified instead of mitigated. Either way, it would be a foolish display of malevolence to wish for anyone else to go through such anguish, and cold as I am, I'm not a sadist.

Remember, I don't just extend this kind of treatment to just anyone nor often. Only... those I deem deserve it. And you happen to be one of those few. It would be a shame for my assistant to be plagued with such despair...

Anyway, I will take my leave now.

Keep hope. You are the master of your own future. No one else can decide who you are. That is a question you must and can only answer for yourself. A foolish young man once told me that when I thought my life was over so I hope, with this brief letter, that it brings you some comfort.

I await your response should you need to write one, and if not, I wish you good luck. But for now, I have work to do.

Sincerely,

Byakuya Togami.

#danganronpa #sdr1 #danganronpa oneshot #danganronpa byakuya togami #dr byakuya #byakuya togami #dr #byakuya x reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fluff #comfort oneshot #encouragement #dr fanfiction #faeleas writes #faeleas letters

[littlewritingrabbit]

Hello! I don't know if you take fanfic requests, but in case you do, may I rewuest Edward Stevens' reaction to Hamilton's death? I love your writing and Ned needs more love.

   Yell heah I can write requested things, thank you so much for this anon! You’re very right, Ned Stevens needs more attention, so here’s some angst...

A Helpful Instinct

Academics, Edward Stevens knew, frequently had lively debates about the nature of instinct. Where it came from, what purpose it served, to what extent things people did could be considered instincts. He’d heard the debates himself during his time as a professor at Kings College, ringing out from those high-ceilinged lecture halls like church-bells that called one to question, not to pray. That had been long ago though. In the interim, he had served as a doctor, then a diplomat, and now he was… not engaged in much. Oh sure, he reasoned, there was the upkeep of the house to see to, and the correspondence to engage with, the brief matters of political or medical importance that his expertise was wanted in, the teas, the dinners, the walks along the shores of St. Croix that lacked nostalgia almost entirely now that all the hurricane-induced wreckage had been cleaned up and built over with bright new buildings. There were things to do, but, he had to admit, they weren’t much after the busy life he had once led.

That was where the instinct came in. Perhaps it was because he was an eldest sibling, or perhaps he just needed something to explain it, but ever since his return from his diplomatic endeavors in Haiti, Stevens had felt incredibly restless. None of his occupations had felt purposeful. He had spent so long in the sole dedication of helping people that it seemed as if there was some imperative he wasn’t fulfilling now.

Stevens dropped a sugar cube into his tea and stirred it around. Someone knocked on his office door.

“Good morning,” he called without looking up, “Come on in!”

“Morning sir,” said the visitor, with a conspicuous lack of the usual ‘good,’ “I’ve a letter for you. The postman seemed rather anxious that you should have it as soon as possible.” It was one of the clerks that sometimes came to ask his advice. What was the lad’s name, Carlisle?

“Thank you Carlisle,” said Stevens, hoping desperately that that was, in fact, his name. The clerk gave no sign to the contrary. “If you have a question, I can certainly answer that before I get to the letter if you’d like,” he took the letter, looking over the clerk. Yes, this was Arthur Carlisle. He was the same rather mousey-looking one with the dark hair and upturned nose who had come to ask about the international impacts of American currency standardization last week. As far as Stevens could remember, the lad was quite clever.

A worried expression crossed Carlisle’s face like a shadow. “Perhaps you’d better read it sir, it’s from Mrs. Hamilton.”

Stevens looked down at the letter only then. It was indeed Eliza Hamilton’s writing. His mind went from she never writes me, to why, to God help you Alex are you well faster than the crease of a frown could form between his eyebrows. “Yes, er, thank you Carlisle, I will be with you in just a moment then.”

He reached for the letter-opener with hands as steady as only a physician trained with needles and scalpels could make them. He sliced through the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. His eyes read faster than his mind could make sense of what he was reading. He read it over again. Duel… ribs… internal bleeding… condolences… it couldn’t be true. Knowing his education as a physician, Eliza had done her best to describe the medical aspect of the tragedy. Perhaps she knew, Stevens thought bleakly, that he would be analyzing the description for days, trying to figure out if he could have done a better job of treating the gunshot wound than the doctors that were present. Unfortunately, this also meant that he understood right away exactly how much Alexander had been pained in the last hours of his life, such terrible, excruciating pain, he was given to understand, that men had compared it to hell-fire. He felt sick.

“Carlisle,” he managed to say, eyes still fixed on the letter, “Is there any chance you could come back another day?”

“Of… of course, sir,” said the clerk.

“My apologies,” said Stevens, “It’s simply… a friend of mine has had… has been… well, there’s been a tragedy. Thank you for seeing to it that I received this.” He managed to look up. Carlisle was, understandably, genuinely concerned-looking, so he attempted to nod reassuringly. Make sure nobody was in a panic. Send them away, if not contented, then at least calm. That was the sort of bedside manner they expected from you in his profession, and he’d be damned if he let that slip now.

“My condolences, sir,” said the clerk with a nod. Stevens stood and accompanied him to the door, gave his shoulder a friendly pat, and closed the door behind him. The second he was gone, Ned Stevens pressed his back to the door, and let his knees give out in a measured sort of way that let him slide into a sitting position.

Alexander was dead, and he’d never even had the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t been there to help, hadn’t even been close enough to know that it had happened until this letter travelled all the way across the ocean and…

He should’ve been there. He had a responsibility, he thought, to help his family, and no matter if neither of them had ever really known if they had been related, Alexander was family in all the ways that counted. I should’ve been there, he wanted to cry, I should’ve helped! It’s my job, as a physician, and a friend, and hell, maybe even a brother, to be there for those I love, and I wasn’t! He rested his head on his hands, his hands against his knees, his entire lanky frame curled in on itself with those characteristic auburn curls falling in a mess over his shoulder.

He had been there, he remembered, to help the angry red-headed newcomer to his household bandage his knees after tree-climbing accidents, sitting on the table in the kitchen with his trousers rolled up. He had been there to tend to mysterious black-eyes and bruised knuckles while Alexander swore he hadn’t been trading anything with the pirate crews that somehow managed to find places to sell their goods on St. Croix. He had even been there as Alexander and Eliza sweated and coughed their way through a nasty bout of yellow fever in Philadelphia.

And then, when Alex had needed him most, he had been oceans away.

Ned Stevens knew, on some level, that he could hardly blame himself for Alexander Hamilton’s death. But wasn’t it easier than facing the fact that it might well have been inevitable? He hated the thought that anyone had to suffer and die, least of all someone as close to him as the man who was, at best, his dear childhood friend, and at worst, his bastard half-brother. If God had simply decided to take Alexander from the world without another chance, how could that possibly be fair, or just, or good?

He was going to have to get up, he reasoned. He was going to have to tell Hester, and then the clerks, and eventually, probably the papers. He could hardly hold all this hurt inside himself, even if he wanted to protect everyone else from it.

Ned Stevens stood, gathered up the letter with hands forced steady, and wiped his tears with a gaudily lacy handkerchief. Alex, wherever you are, he thought, I hope you are no longer in pain. I shall miss you terribly, little brother. He crossed the room, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

#History and Writing #Time For a Ficlet #Ned Stevens #Alexander Hamilton #Eliza Hamilton #Uhhh so it's been a while #I may have taken a little hiatus #I'm so very sorry for that and the lack of communication and all #I hope you're all doing well!

[alwaysnforeverfangirl]

Dance Me To The End Of Love - Prologue

A/N: Here it is the Prologue of the Fred Weasley x OC fic. It's a short introduction to the story of my OC, Veronica Reed. Although Fred doesn’t appear in here both characters will meet very soon. Hope you like it, Rach💖

(To the people who had already read the other prologue, somethings are change, this is the new one.)

Summary: Veronica Reed has a nightmare before the day her life changes forever.

Warnings: torture, death, mentions of war, mentions of anxiety.

italics are flashbacks/memories/letters/notes

Tags: @hercrimsonpeaches @reeophidian @beforeoursunsets @weasleysandwheezes @cursestothemoon (let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts or if you want me to remove you)

Masterlist of the series

There it was again. In her chest, hiding behind her ribs. The pressure that she had grow to fear. She whipped away the sweat on her forehead while releasing a sob that she had hold. The cold air of the night painted goosebumps on her skin when she moved the covers off the bed, her feet touched the carpet that decorated the floor of the room and she started to make her way to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

Veronica Reed knew very well her condition. That's why she was so afraid of the anxiety that always came after remembering her father's death.

----------------------------------------------------------

-Rabastan…

The voice of Alaric Lestrange was barely a whisper. In front of him a man dressed in black robes was giving him a wicked smile. Behind his long hair Alaric could recognize the features of his younger brother.

-It’s been a long time brother.- Rabastan’s voice was hoarse. He was moving around the place, searching for something while laughing at Alaric.- I didn't have the opportunity to give you my condolences on the loss of your wife.

Alaric’s body tensed up, thinking of the day Anna was brutally killed by Fenrir Greyback. She had fought in the war even though Alaric didn't want her too. They had a daughter and the thought of leaving her orphan haunted him, he had promised himself that she would have the loving family that he never had.

“She will grow healthy and free and she’ll understand what we fought for and why we couldn't hide away while the world we believe in was at risk.” With those words being said by his always courageous wife, Alaric Lestrange joined the Order of the Phoenix with Anna Reed by his side. He knew she was right. He couldn't keep on running from his family and the atrocities that people like them were doing to the Wizard Community.

-She had an amazing magic ability for a mudblood…- The younger of the Lestrange brothers started to approach Alaric in a threatening way.- The child that you two had together… Where is she?

At that moment Alaric realized why Rabastan was there. He was furious about the fall of the Dark Lord and he definitely had heard about the rumors. Not only he was there to torture him like he and their older brother had done while they were kids. He was there to capture his daughter and found out if what people said was true. But Alaric knew that if Lord Voldemort followers were to find Veronica she would become a slave, and that’s the reason why he came back to the United States when Anna died. To protect their daughter and help her understand what she was able to do before anyone could use her.

-You haven't said a word yet dear brother. Has the cat got your tongue? - Rabastan left a creepy laugh.- You know pretty well what I’d do to you if you don’t show me where your daughter is.

-You’d do it even if I do as you say.

Rabastan smiled, he took Alaric’s face with his left hand and pointed his wand to his chest. This wasn't the first time both brothers were in this position, although usually Rodolphus Lestrange was behind Rabastan, with his chest filled with pride as the younger of the family showed the middle one what they called discipline. It had always been this way, ever since the three of them were kids both Rabastan and Rodolphus would haunt Alaric. They would hex him just because he was different, just because he didn't share the same ideas as his family. It got worse when he started Hogwarts and he was sorted into Hufflepuff. “Our family has been in Slytherin since that school was founded and now a miserable Hufflepuff…” Alaric would never forget the voice of his father and the disgust in his mother’s face. Both of his brothers made his life a terrible one until he flew from England, escaping from the pain that the Lestrange name brought him.

A red light came out of Rabastan’s wand and Alaric fell to the floor in pain. He could feel the cruciatus curse invading his body and he failed to silence a scream. In a wardrobe, near the window of the room a small toddler shifted at the sight of her father’s aching. The torture continued for at least five minutes and Alaric stopped trying to keep silent, he didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him suffering but the stinging in his bones and skin was too much.

Veronica knew that her father would be upset if she got out from the place he told her to hide when they heard someone entering their home but seeing Alaric crying of pain on the floor awoke something in her. In her chest a pressure started building and her body started to tremble.

-You’re going to die Alaric. Why not have a moment of peace before you go? Tell me where she is and I will kill you fast.

-Never…

-You and your stupid moral code. You really think that these people you defend are worth fighting for? That your filthy mudblood wife deserved a life?- The poison in the voice of Rabastan only increased when he saw how his brother was fighting the curse.- You refused to have a good life, to carry the honor of our family name, all of the glory that runs through our veins for what? A fair cause?

-I’ve never share our family beliefs…- Alaric’s voice was almost inaudible. Every inch of his body was in pain.

-Oh no, I know that very well…You and your choices throw dirt to our name ever since you decided to do the right thing.- Rabastan laughed, he kneeled in front of his brother and spoke to his face with anger.- You. Are. A. Traitor.- He spited in his face and kicked him in the stomach.

Right when Rabastan stood up the doors of the wardrobe opened up.

-Stop! Let him go!

Rabastan turned to look at the origin of the sounds and his eyes landed on a three year old. He sent the most horrifying smirk to Veronica and returned his attention to his brother.

-Found her.- He said to Alaric with a creepy smile.

Alaric looked at his daughter, she had her mother’s fire, her eyes were burning with anger and her breathing was accelerating. He knew what was gonna happen, and even though he was sure he wouldn't be able to see it, he knew for certain that his daughter was going to win that fight. While Veronica gave a regretful smile to her father for disobeying what he had told her earlier Rabastan’s wand emitted a green light and Alaric’s life left his body.

Veronica screamed and the window’s glass shattered. The light of the room became darker and everything started to shake. When Rabastan’s eyes returned to Veronica he could see clearly how the figure of a three year old transformed into something similar to a black cloud. A sudden strength pushed him to the ground and knocked the air from his lungs. Rabastan Lestrange couldn’t breath, his blood was burning and he wasn't able to do anything. He was sure that he would join his brother’s faith in any minute, but it didn’t happen.

----------------------------------------------------------

-Same nightmare again?

Veronica put the glass down and turned to look at John. He had a tiring smile on his face and his hair was a mess due to having fallen asleep on the armchair of the living room. She tried to return the smile to the man who had raised her.

-I’d love for it to be a nightmare but we both know it isn’t.- Her voice was sweet, a perfect contrast with what was going on through her mind at that very moment.- It’s been the fourth time this week and I don’t like it. I feel like I’m losing control…

-It’s normal, given the times we live in. You don't have to worry, we’re gonna see Scamander and Dumbledore tomorrow.- John caressed Veronica’s cheek and she sighed.

-I’m afraid of it. I don’t want to loose control again, not like last time.

-You won’t do it. Try to rest. - He laughed at the bags under her eyes.- We have a long day ahead and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your first impression to be a bad one, and well, with that…- He pointed at her eyes and she whipped aways his hand.

-Fuck off…

Both John and Veronica laughed at her bluntness. She did what he told her and decided to go back to bed.

The right hand of the old auror went back to the pocket of his trousers while the young witch climbed the stairs. He had been rereading the letter that Alaric Lestrange wrote down before he was killed by his brother Rabastan. The ink had decorated the parchment for eighteen years but it was still clear as it was that night.

Dear John:

I write this in what I know is gonna be my last time. The rumors of Veronica’s condition had grown this past month and I’m sure they had reach the ears of the Dark Lord. I’m well aware that you’re not as innocent as everyone seems to be these days. Voldemort has been defeated, yes, but I’m sure he’s still somewhere. And he’ll come for my child.

I never wanted to get involved in any of this. I thought that coming here to America would help me put my past in a box that I would never look at again, that my family’s name wouldn’t haunt me anymore. And it worked for a while but that box had been open with the war and it contains way too much darkness. A darkness that my daughter shouldn’t be a part of. I was hoping too much because that same darkness that I try to kept away from Veronica gained power over me and soon it would imprison her.

I need you to take care of Veronica. Give her the love that both her mother and I won’t be able to give her. Teach her that magic can be used to do good. That she shouldn't be afraid of herself and her power. That the light would always be there by her side no matter what.

I really wish things weren’t like this. I wish that my family wasn’t the monstrosity that it is. That they won’t hunt my daughter down until they destroy her for their own benefit, a benefit that can only mean for the Dark Times to come again. I really wish that won’t happen, that Veronica will grown into a beautiful and strong woman, that she’ll be healthy and free as Anna said but I’m afraid I cannot dare to dream that much.

Go to Dumbledore after you read this, he’d know what happened and what to do.

I cannot thank you enough my dear friend. But I’m sure Veronica’s smile would be a good paycheck.

Your eternal grateful friend,

Alaric Lestrange - Reed

And it sure was. Not that John Fischer needed to be paid for taking care of his old friend’s daughter but it sure was worth all the struggles. And sure one of Alaric’s wishes came true. Veronica was now a beautiful and strong woman with the world at her feet. Sure her health wasn’t the same as any other witch or wizard her age but she was strong, stronger that she’ll ever believe herself to be.

The old MACUSA auror turned off the light of the first floor of the house and walked the stairs and hall until reaching his room. He was going to whisper “nox” as soon as his body touched the bed but his eyes fell on the photo he had on his nightstand. A 10 year old self of Veronica was smiling widely his way and it warmed his heart. He understood now the worry in Alaric’s words as it was the same worry he had.

No one really know how Veronica had survived this long. It could only had been due to the immense power she held, and it was as scary as it was hopeful.

#dance me to the end of love #rach writes #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #harry potter fanfiction #Fred wealsey x oc #Wizarding world #lestrange family #original character

[join-the-joywrite]

Women in War -- 2

All Maggie Maravillla ever wanted was to help people. She never imagined losing damn near everything when winning a war.

WiW masterpost

Chapter 2

1935

"I would've enlisted today if the war had gone on now, Buck, no hesitation. "

Maggie's laugh was long and had Steve not known how she meant her different laughs, it would have been mighty insulting.

Bucky grinned. "You wouldn't have lasted two days in training, pal."

Steve rolled his eyes, which caused him to wince as his headache protested. He pressed the ice pack against his forehead even harder. "Always a bully somewhere," he grumbled, "first Hodge, now these jerks."

"You just need to learn to pick your battles," Maggie said, smiling. "Or you could, you know, enjoy your birthday like a normal person."

"Not an option," Steve said, grinning at Maggie, "and aren't you supposed to be preparing for college? With Becky? In Cambridge?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't miss little Steve's birthday. Besides, you should cagar on Bucky. He brought me out to Brooklyn to see you. Becky has a couple of bonus quizzes tomorrow for the really -- desalado? -- the eager ones, and she really wants to excell. She's been talking about moving to London permanently. Apparently, the boys there are cute."

"How would she even know?" Steve asked. "She spends all day in your dorm studying."

"True," Maggie said, shrugging.

"All she knows is that American boys aren't," Bucky said.

"Ow," Steve said flatly, staring at Bucky.

"I actually had an orientation session this week," Maggie said, staring off to the side, "but it doesn't matter. As long as I keep my grades above average, I get to keep my scholarship. I didn't even expect to get in, let alone earn a scholarship."

"Don't sell yourself short, Mags," Bucky said, leaning back in his chair, "you're brilliant. We're proud of you for even going to college."

"It's hard sometimes. I know I've been here my whole life, but I grew up learning from Papá. Do you know how smart I am in Spanish?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah, we know."

"I actually have a hard time keeping up with you when you're mad, and I've been studying Spanish for like, six years. Tio Hugo is a miracle teacher, I'll give him that."

"You're just dumb," Steve said, rolling his eyes again.

"You'll make a fine doctor," Bucky told Maggie, ignoring Steve, "just set your sights on becoming the great Doctor Maravilla and never look back."

Maggie smiled. "Doctor Maravilla," she repeated, "sí, that's gonna be me."

The table was silent for a while. In the background, Evie could be heard chatting away from some friend of hers. The Barnes household was never truly silent. It was something Maggie always loved about Bucky's home -- her home, as Winnifred always made her feel. Maggie hated silence. Silence filled her own house on the days where her father went to work and she was left alone with her mother. Silence was what happened when the teachers caught her and Becky fighting with Hodge or any of his cronies. Silence was what happened when Angel had friends over. Everytime Maggie was subject to silence, it was around someone she didn't quite like.

Maggie hated silence more than she hated bullies. Maggie learnt English curses just to swear biligually whenever she was told to be silent.

So Maggie loved the Barnes household, where someone or the other would always be doing something. Sometimes it would be Allie and Steve arguing about who had the homework answers right. Sometimes it would be Evie loudly chatting on the telephone. Often, she could hear Winnifred and Becky bustling about in the kitchen, trying out new recipes and experimenting with bizarre flavours. Every odd weekend, George Barnes would make a loud noise in the garage, fiddling with some old piece of tech. Becky would join him too.

And very rarely, Maggie would hear Bucky humming to himself as he went about doing whatever he did.

"I ought to get going," Maggie said, wishing with all her heart that she could just stay in her home.

"Chin up, Mags," Steve said, "give it time, you'll be one of America's most sought-after doctors sooner or later."

Steve had no idea how right he was.

1939

Four years later, they found themselves in well into the midst of a world war.

Mi dulce Magpie,

I'm going to bind Steve to the leg of my dining room table and lock the table in someone's safe. He's heard about the war, you know. Do you remember when we had just graduated? You came from Cambridge for Steve's birthday. The little pedazo de mierda got it in his head then already about signing up for war. Now he tells me it's fate. Won't you write him a scathing letter, doll? Maybe he'll listen to you. I'd love to sit and write more, but Evie says she just saw Steve get dragged into an alley. Do remind my scatterbrained sister to read my letters. You're still coming home for Christmas, right? Allie misses your dumb face, doll. I hope to see you here at least a week in advance.

With love,

The better Barnes twin.

P.S. I'll only stop calling you Magpie if you stop calling me Buckwheat.

Maggie smiled as she folded up the letter again. She slipped it into her purse as she walked along the hallway.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"No, thank you, I'm just here to visit someone."

The young woman raised her eyebrows at Maggie. "Ma'am. . . I don't--"

"I've been here before, angel, I know my way around the office. Mr Edwards' is straight down, right?"

"Er, yes. Uhm, good luck, ma'am."

Maggie never used the endearment 'angel' to mean anything other than 'estúpida mierda'. Making sure the letter she'd read thrice now was still tucked into her little bag, Maggie walked along until she came up on the open office out side Mr Edwards'.

"Rebecca Latimer Barnes, we'll be back after New Year's. We're not going off to war!"

The group of young women dispersed, allowing Maggie a glimpse of the woman that had previously been in the centre of the laughs and smiles. "Felicidades por el engagement, Peggy. Beck, we're gonna miss the plane."

Peggy Carter smiled. "Gracias, Maggie. Do say hello to everyone at home from me."

"You should send a photo, Pegs," Becky said, leaning on Peggy's desk, "although it's a pity Fred proposed. I was sure Buck would've liked to take you out."

Maggie laughed, despite being upset that Becky still hadn't left the office. "If that were true, we'd be offering Peggy condolences. Vamanos, Beck, your bag's already in the car."

Becky sighed dramatically. "I'll see you in the new year, ladies. Let's go, Dr Maravilla."

"Almost a doctor," Maggie said as she waved goodbye to the Bletchley Park women and left, Becky trailing behind.

"Back to work, ladies," Mr Edwards said as he opened his office door. "Miss Carter, a word?"

"Of course, Mr Edwards."

"Has Miss Barnes left already?"

"Just missed her, sir."

"Pity. Remind me to speak to her when she returns in the new year."

///////////////

Becky pulled her suitcase along behind her. "How'd you even meet the guy? And what are you doing for him that he's paying for both your education and our visits home?"

Maggie frowned as she thought back. "I was waiting tables in our eleventh year, you remember? He stopped by and I waited on him. He was a mess -- he still is -- and his food and drink fell everywhere. Last time I cursed like that was when that perra Lucy Kinney stole my shift at the hospital and I had to work the graveyard shift."

"You know, given that you work part-time in a hospital, I really wouldn't suggest calling it the graveyard shift."

Maggie smiled. "Very funny, Becks. Anyway, so he's surprisingly super apologetic about it. Turns out he was stressed over some college exams or something and long story short, we got to talking about college and he felt really bad about ruining my shift at the diner that he offered to pay for my college tuition -- provided I didn't slack off or things like that."

Becky shook her head. "I don't get it. Why? Why would someone just randomly decide to pay for someone else's tuition?"

"Well, he comes from a rich family."

"That makes it all the more unlikely that he'd be so generous."

"Look, Becks, I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. If the man sees potential in me and is willing to pay for college, I'm grabbing it with both hands and hanging on until I graduate. You and me both know my father could never afford getting me into medicine."

"Your mom could."

"Yeah, but who needs her help? I'm actually going to see her before I come by your place."

"I thought you were meeting your darling benefactor?"

"I am. I'm seeing them both today and then I'll come home. Do me a favour and fetch my father?"

"Sure, no problem. Did your darling benefactor call you a cab?"

"I called you a cab." Both women stopped walking at the new voice. "And we all know I'm not Maggie's darling benefactor."

"Howard," Maggie greeted, "good to see you."

Howard dipped his head slightly. "Mags. Mr Jarvis will take your bags to Ms Barnes' taxi, if you'd like?"

Maggie smiled at the young man following Howard. "Hola, Eddie, como estas?"

Jarvis smiled back. "Bien, gracias, Mags. ¿Y usted mismo?"

"Always a pleasure, Eddie. Thank you so much."

Jarvis nodded as he took hold of Maggie's suitcase and gestured for Becky to walk with him.

"So, darling benefactor?"

"She's insane. Leave it to the great Becky Barnes to see through the rosiest of rose-lenses."

"Isn't she a really good codebreaker?"

"Surprisingly, yes. She's actually one of two top codebreakers at Bletchley Park. Our friend Peggy is the other."

"Peggy . . . that wouldn't be Margaret Carter, would it?"

"It would. What a small world, Mr Stark."

"Indeed, Dr Maravilla, it's a very small world. Come on, we have business to discuss."

"Business?" Maggie echoed with a frown as she placed her hands around the arm Howard offered her.

"Business," Howard repeated with a nod, pulling Maggie through the busy airport.

///////////////

"Hypothetically? No. I went to Cambridge to study and become a doctor. I wouldn't want any part in your whimsical ideas, Howard."

"What if the situation weren't hypothetical?"

Maggie sipped her tea slowly. "No. Besides, you can't make superheroes. ¡Eso es ridículo! Maybe when you've got proof this . . . super soldier thing . . . will work, I will consider helping you out."

"Maggie, hear me out, you're England's finest and you're not even qualified yet. How they hate to say your name, because you're better than them all. I could really use your help on this."

"This was never hypothetical to begin with, was it?"

Meekly, Howard shook his head. "No. Look, there's this German doctor who's developing a formula. If I can just persuade some people upstairs to go after the doctor, we could have that formula. We could win the war before it's fully begun."

"I'm sorry, Howard. I truly appreciate all you've done for me, but this isn't the way to repay you. I can't understake . . . missions . . . without any solid proof that I'm doing something right. I'm really sorry, Howard, truly."

Howard nodded as Maggie gathered her things and stood up.

"What about a nurse?"

Howard's voice stopped Maggie. She stood behind his chair, staring at the door. Howard stared at her vacant seat.

"I wanted to be a doctor, Howard."

"You'll have to climb that ladder, Maggie, and you can either work as a nurse in that shitty hospital and sit through years and years of college until they finally think a young Hispanic woman is capable of being a fully-fledged doctor, or you can start as a base camp nurse and actually put your skills to use as you climb the ranks. Your skill is beyond the average nurse, Mags, and you'll get everyone to call you a doctor within months at best."

Maggie squinted at the door.

"Think about it," Howard said, stirring his cup. "I expect an answer by New Year's. Enjoy the Christmas week, Miss Maravilla."

"Likewise, Mr Stark," Maggie said as she left, realising just how much she loved being called Dr Maravilla.

///////////////

Bucky was waiting on the front steps when Maggie got out of the cab. She stood behind the front gate and smiled. "How long have you been sitting there, Buckwheat?"

"Not long, Magpie. How was your meeting with your mother?"

Maggie's expression twisted as she pushed open the gate and walked up to the steps. "I didn't go see her. I was with Howard all this time. He offered me a job."

"That's brilliant, Mags!"

"Sí, but not the job I want. Bucky, I want to be a doctor. Howard wants to make me an army nurse."

Bucky turned his head to look at the woman sitting beside him. "Why do you want to be a doctor, Maggie?"

"I want to help people, I want to fix them, I want to make them better."

"Well, doll, then maybe being an army nurse is more suited to you than studying forever at a college that doesn't really want it's girls to go out there."

"I don't know, Buck. I think I can be one of the lucky ones. I . . . just don't know."

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WiW masterpost

#women in war #marvel #au #40s #kenny-writes

[olaluwe]

Former president Olusegun Obasanjo in a detailed letter talked about the numerous issues bothering Nigeria as a country and made some suggestions. In a statement titled, The Way Out: A Clarion Call for Coalition for Nigeria Movement, released on Tuesday, January 23, Obasanjo reflected about the political journey of the country, recounting how he backed the current president, Muhammadu Buhari, against former president Goodluck Jonathan. Obasanjo, though vented no regret supporting the current president, but said Buhari has performed far below expectation just as he added that the All Progressives Congress (APC) is not the solution to the country's many challenges. He advocated a new movement, which he called, Coalition for Nigeria, (CN) to which all well-meaning Nigerians can belong. Finally, he added that the movement, does not need to be a political party, will be dedicated to "taking Nigeria to the height God has created it to be." Read the full letter below: "Since we are still in the month of January, it is appropriate to wish all Nigerians Happy 2018. I am constrained to issue this special statement at this time considering the situation of the country. Some of you may be asking, “What has brought about this special occasion of Obasanjo issuing a Special Statement?” You will be right to ask such a question. But there is a Yoruba saying that ‘when lice abound in your clothes, your fingernails will never be dried of blood’. When I was in the village, to make sure that lice die, you put them between two fingernails and press hard to ensure they die and they always leave blood stains on the fingernails. To ensure you do not have blood on your fingernails, you have to ensure that lice are not harboured anywhere within your vicinity. The lice of poor performance in government – poverty, insecurity, poor economic management, nepotism, gross dereliction of duty, condonation of misdeed – if not outright encouragement of it, lack of progress and hope for the future, lack of national cohesion and poor management of internal political dynamics and widening inequality – are very much with us today. With such lice of general and specific poor performance and crying poverty with us, our fingers will not be dry of ‘blood’. Four years ago when my PDP card was torn, I made it abundantly clear that I quit partisan politics for aye but my concern and interest in Nigeria, Africa and indeed in humanity would not wane. Ever since, I have adhered strictly to that position. Since that time, I have devoted quality time to the issue of zero hunger as contained in Goal No. 2 of the Sustainable Development Goals of the UN. We have set the target that Nigeria with the participating States in the Zero Hunger Forum should reach Zero Hunger goal by 2025 – five years earlier than the UN target date. I am involved in the issue of education in some states and generally in the issue of youth empowerment and employment. I am involved in all these domestically and altruistically to give hope and future to the seemingly hopeless and those in despair. I believe strongly that God has endowed Nigeria so adequately that no Nigerian should be either in want or in despair. I believe in teamwork and collaborative efforts. At the international level, we have worked with other world leaders to domicile the apparatus for monitoring and encouraging socio-economic progress in Africa in our Presidential Library. The purpose of Africa Progress Group, which is the new name assumed by Africa Progress Panel (APP), is to point out where, when and what works need to be done for the progress of Africa separately and collectively by African leaders and their development partners. I have also gladly accepted the invitation of the UN Secretary-General to be a member of his eighteen-member High-Level Board of Advisers on Mediation.There are other assignments I take up in other fora for Africa and for the international community. For Africa to move forward, Nigeria must be one of the anchor countries, if not the leading anchor country. It means that Nigeria must be good at home to be good outside. No doubt, our situation in the last decade or so had shown that we are not good enough at home; hence we are invariably absent at the table that we should be abroad. All these led me to take the unusual step of going against my own political Party, PDP, in the last general election to support the opposite side. I saw that action as the best option for Nigeria. As it has been revealed in the last three years or so, that decision and the subsequent collective decision of Nigerians to vote for a change was the right decision for the nation. For me, there was nothing personal, it was all in the best interest of Nigeria and, indeed, in the best interest of Africa and humanity at large. Even the horse rider then, with whom I maintain very cordial, happy and social relationship today has come to realise his mistakes and regretted it publicly and I admire his courage and forthrightness in this regard. He has a role to play on the sideline for the good of Nigeria, Africa and humanity and I will see him as a partner in playing such a role nationally and internationally, but not as a horse rider in Nigeria again. The situation that made Nigerians to vote massively to get my brother Jonathan off the horse is playing itself out again. First, I thought I knew the point where President Buhari is weak and I spoke and wrote about it even before Nigerians voted for him and I also did vote for him because at that time it was a matter of “any option but Jonathan” (aobj). But my letter to President Jonathan titled: “Before It Is Too Late” was meant for him to act before it was too late. He ignored it and it was too late for him and those who goaded him into ignoring the voice of caution. I know that praise-singers and hired attackers may be raised up against me for verbal or even physical attack but if I can withstand undeserved imprisonment and was ready to shed my blood by standing for Nigeria, I will consider no sacrifice too great to make for the good of Nigeria at any time. No human leader is expected to be personally strong or self-sufficient in all aspects of governance. I knew President Buhari before he became President and said that he is weak in the knowledge and understanding of the economy but I thought that he could make use of good Nigerians in that area that could help. Although, I know that you cannot give what you don’t have and that economy does not obey military order. You have to give it what it takes in the short-, medium- and long-term. Then, it would move. I know his weakness in understanding and playing in the foreign affairs sector and again, there are many Nigerians that could be used in that area as well.They have knowledge and experience that could be deployed for the good of Nigeria. There were serious allegations of round-tripping against some inner caucus of the Presidency which would seem to have been condoned. I wonder if such actions do not amount to corruption and financial crime, then what is it? Culture of condonation and turning blind eye will cover up rather than clean up. And going to justice must be with clean hands. I thought President Buhari would fight corruption and insurgency and he must be given some credit for his achievement so far in these two areas although it is not yet uhuru! The herdsmen/crop farmers issue is being wittingly or unwittingly allowed to turn sour and messy. It is no credit to the federal government that the herdsmen rampage continues with careless abandon and without finding an effective solution to it. And it is a sad symptom of insensitivity and callousness that some Governors, a day after 73 victims were being buried in a mass grave in Benue state without condolence, were jubilantly endorsing President Buhari for a second term! The timing was most unfortunate. The issue of herdsmen/crop farmers dichotomy should not be left on the political platform of blame game; the federal government must take the lead in bringing about solution that protects life and properties of herdsmen and crop farmers alike and for them to live amicably in the same community. But there are three other areas where President Buhari has come out more glaringly than most of us thought we knew about him. One is nepotic deployment bordering on clannishness and inability to bring discipline to bear on errant members of his nepotic court. This has grave consequences on performance of his government to the detriment of the nation. It would appear that national interest was being sacrificed on the altar of nepotic interest. What does one make of a case like that of Maina: collusion, condonation, ineptitude, incompetence, dereliction of responsibility or kinship and friendship on the part of those who should have taken visible and deterrent disciplinary action? How many similar cases are buried, ignored or covered up and not yet in the glare of the media and the public? The second is his poor understanding of the dynamics of internal politics. This has led to wittingly or unwittingly making the nation more divided and inequality has widened and become more pronounced. It also has effect on general national security. The third is passing the buck. For instance, blaming the Governor of the Central Bank for devaluation of the naira by 70% or so and blaming past governments for it, is to say the least, not accepting one’s own responsibility. Let nobody deceive us, economy feeds on politics and because our politics is depressing, our economy is even more depressing today. If things were good, President Buhari would not need to come in. He was voted to fix things that were bad and not engage in the blame game. Our Constitution is very clear, one of the cardinal responsibilities of the President is the management of the economy of which the value of the naira forms an integral part. Kinship and friendship that place responsibility for governance in the hands of the unelected can only be deleterious to good government and to the nation. President Buhari’s illness called for the sympathy, understanding, prayer and patience from every sane Nigerian. It is part of our culture. Most Nigerians prayed for him while he was away sick in London for over hundred days and he gave his Deputy sufficient leeway to carry on in his absence. We all thanked God for President Buhari for coming back reasonably hale and hearty and progressing well in his recovery. But whatever may be the state of President Buhari’s health today, he should neither over-push his luck nor over-tax the patience and tolerance of Nigerians for him, no matter what his self-serving, so-called advisers, who would claim that they love him more than God loves him and that without him, there would be no Nigeria say. President Buhari needs a dignified and honourable dismount from the horse. He needs to have time to reflect, refurbish physically and recoup and after appropriate rest, once again, join the stock of Nigerian leaders whose experience, influence, wisdom and outreach can be deployed on the sideline for the good of the country. His place in history is already assured. Without impaired health and strain of age, running the affairs of Nigeria is a 25/7 affair, not 24/7. I only appeal to brother Buhari to consider a deserved rest at this point in time and at this age. I continue to wish him robust health to enjoy his retirement from active public service. President Buhari does not necessarily need to heed my advice. But whether or not he heeds it, Nigeria needs to move on and move forward.I have had occasion in the past to say that the two main political parties – APC and PDP – were wobbling. I must reiterate that nothing has happened to convince me otherwise. If anything, I am reinforced in my conviction. The recent show of PDP must give grave and great concern to lovers of Nigeria. To claim, as has been credited to the chief kingmaker of PDP, that for procuring the Supreme Court judgment for his faction of the Party, he must dictate the tune all the way and this is indeed fraught with danger. If neither APC nor PDP is a worthy horse to ride to lead Nigeria at this crucial and critical time, what then do we do? Remember Farooq Kperogi, an Associate Professor at the Kennesaw State University, Georgia, United States, calls it “a cruel Hobson’s choice; it’s like a choice between six and half a dozen, between evil and evil. Any selection or deflection would be a distinction without a difference.” We cannot just sit down lamenting and wringing our hands desperately and hopelessly. I believe the situation we are in today is akin to what and where we were in at the beginning of this democratic dispensation in 1999. The nation was tottering. People became hopeless and saw no bright future in the horizon. It was all a dark cloud politically, economically and socially. The price of oil at that time was nine dollars per barrel and we had a debt overhang of about $35 billion. Most people were confused with lack of direction in the country. One of the factors that saved the situation was a near government of national unity that was put in place to navigate us through the dark cloud. We had almost all hands on deck. We used people at home and from the diaspora and we navigated through the dark cloud of those days. At that time, most people were hopelessly groping in the dark. They saw no choice, neither in the left nor in the right, and yet we were not bereft of people at home and from the diaspora that could come together to make Nigeria truly a land flowing with milk and honey. Where we are is a matter of choice but we can choose differently to make a necessary and desirable change, once again. Wherever I go, I hear Nigerians complaining, murmuring in anguish and anger. But our anger should not be like the anger of the cripple. We can collectively save ourselves from the position we find ourselves. It will not come through self-pity, fruitless complaint or protest but through constructive and positive engagement and collective action for the good of our nation and ourselves and our children and their children. We need moral re-armament and engaging togetherness of people of like-mind and goodwill to come solidly together to lift Nigeria up. This is no time for trading blames or embarking on futile argument and neither should we accept untenable excuses for non-performance. Let us accept that the present administration has done what it can do to the limit of its ability, aptitude and understanding. Let the administration and its political party platform agree with the rest of us that what they have done and what they are capable of doing is not good enough for us. They have given as best as they have and as best as they can give. Nigeria deserves and urgently needs better than what they have given or what we know they are capable of giving. To ask them to give more will be unrealistic and will only sentence Nigeria to a prison term of four years if not destroy it beyond the possibility of an early recovery and substantial growth. Einstein made it clear to us that doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the height of folly. Already, Nigerians are committing s*uicide for the unbearable socio-economic situation they find themselves in. And yet Nigerians love life. We must not continue to reinforce failure and hope that all will be well. It is self-deceit and self-defeat and another aspect of folly. What has emerged from the opposition has shown no better promise from their antecedents. As the leader of that Party for eight years as President of Nigeria, I can categorically say there is nothing to write home about in their new team. We have only one choice left to take us out of Egypt to the promised land. And that is the coalition of the concerned and the willing – ready for positive and drastic change, progress and involvement. Change that will give hope and future to all our youth and dignity and full participation to all our women. Our youth should be empowered to deploy their ability to learn, innovate and work energetically at ideas and concepts in which they can make their own original inputs. Youth must be part of the action today and not relegated to leadership of tomorrow which may never come. Change that will mean enhancement of living standard and progress for all. A situation where the elected will accountably govern and every Nigerian will have equal opportunity not based on kinship and friendship but based on free citizenship. Democracy is sustained and measured not by leaders doing extraordinary things, (invariably, leaders fail to do ordinary things very well), but by citizens rising up to do ordinary things extraordinarily well. Our democracy, development and progress at this juncture require ordinary citizens of Nigeria to do the extraordinary things of changing the course and direction of our lacklustre performance and development. If leadership fails, citizens must not fail and there lies the beauty and importance of democracy. We are challenged by the current situation; we must neither adopt spirit of cowardice nor timidity let alone impotence but must be sustained by courage, determination and commitment to say and do and to persist until we achieve upliftment for Nigeria. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and we believe that our venturing will not be in vain. God of Nigeria has endowed this country adequately and our non-performance cannot be blamed on God but on leadership. God, who has given us what we need and which is potentially there, will give us leadership enablement to actualize our potentiality. The development and modernization of our country and society must be anchored and sustained on dynamic Nigerian culture, enduring values and an enchanting Nigerian dream. We must have abiding faith in our country and its role and place within the comity of nations. Today, Nigeria needs all hands on deck. All hands of men and women of goodwill must be on deck. We need all hands to move our country forward. We need a Coalition for Nigeria, CN. Such a Movement at this juncture needs not be a political party but one to which all well-meaning Nigerians can belong. That Movement must be a coalition for democracy, good governance, social and economic well-being and progress. Coalition to salvage and redeem our country. You can count me with such a Movement. Last time, we asked, prayed and worked for change and God granted our request. This time, we must ask, pray and work for change with unity, security and progress. And God will again grant us. Of course, nothing should stop such a Movement from satisfying conditions for fielding candidates for elections. But if at any stage the Movement wishes to metamorphose into candidate-sponsoring Movement for elections, I will bow out of the Movement because I will continue to maintain my non-partisan position. Coalition for Nigeria must have its headquarters in Abuja. This Coalition for Nigeria will be a Movement that will drive Nigeria up and forward. It must have a pride of place for all Nigerians, particularly for our youth and our women. It is a coalition of hope for all Nigerians for speedy, quality and equal development, security, unity, prosperity and progress. It is a coalition to banish poverty, insecurity and despair. Our country must not be oblivious to concomitant danger around, outside and ahead. Coalition for Nigeria must be a Movement to break new ground in building a united country, a socially-cohesive and moderately prosperous society with equity, equality of opportunity, justice and a dynamic and progressive economy that is self-reliant and takes active part in global division of labour and international decision-making. The Movement must work out the path of development and the trajectory of development in speed, quality and equality in the short- medium- and long-term for Nigeria on the basis of sustainability, stability, predictability, credibility, security, cooperation and prosperity with diminishing inequality. What is called for is love, commitment and interest in our country, not in self, friends and kinship alone but particularly love, compassion and interest in the poor, underprivileged and downtrodden. It is our human duty and responsibility so to do. Failure to do this will amount to a sin against God and a crime against humanity. Some may ask, what does Obasanjo want again? Obasanjo has wanted nothing other than the best for Nigeria and Nigerians and he will continue to want nothing less. And if we have the best, we will be contented whether where we live is described as palaces or huts by others and we will always give thanks to God. I, therefore, will gladly join such a Movement when one is established as Coalition for Nigeria, CN, taking Nigeria to the height God has created it to be. From now on, the Nigeria eagle must continue to soar and fly high. CN, as a Movement, will be new, green, transparent and must remain clean and always active, selflessly so. Members must be ready to make sacrifice for the nation and pay the price of being pioneers and good Nigerians for our country to play the God-assigned role for itself, for its neighbours, for its sub-region of West Africa, for its continent and for humanity in general. For me, the strength and sustainable success of CN will derive largely from the strong commitment of a population that is constantly mobilized to the rallying platform of the fact that going forward together is our best option for building a nation that will occupy its deserved place in the global community. May God continue to lead, guide and protect us." The end. This being the full text of the Letter written by former President Olusegun Obasanjo to President Muhammadu Buhari.

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