My Venus Is In The 9th

Simon Weil's 'The List of Temptations (to be read daily)' from her diary.

Bernadette Peters. 😍🤗🐶

You’re married to your phone background/lockscreen how fucked are you

Sounds about right.

this is canon ok

Lucius/Narcissa

From the “Send Me Ships” prompt for @bellaluna2

Okay, so the first time I did it, tumblr ate it! So I had to completely redo it…

Gives nose/forehead kisses:

Lucius. Actually, Narcissa started it but then Lucius liked it so much he picked it up and it became his habit. The general pattern is nose kisses when he’s leaving the house, forehead kisses when he’s leaving the room.

Gets jealous the most:

Narcissa. She’s been that way since she was a child but it’s one of the things that drives her ambition.

Takes care of on sick days:

They both do in different ways. Lucius is more doting (so much so that Cissa ends up kicking him out of the room most of the time because she needs her space.) She checks on Lucius when he’s sick but is usually of the ‘oh, you’ll be fine’ attitude.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day:

Hahah - this is kinda funny to picture the way I’d originally meant it. But on vacation without any other worries? Narcissa.

Brings the other lunch at work:

Narcissa. A lot of times it’s her excuse to see him in the middle of the day whether they meet somewhere or she brings him a tray wherever he is in the manor. (If she doesn’t have her own plans, that is.)

Tries to start role-playing in bed:

Lucius. …if you’ve been her long enough, you know why. hahaha

Embarrassingly drunk dancer:

Also Lucius

Firmly believes in couples costumes:

Okay, so they don’t celebrate Halloween really BUT - Lucius. Anytime they go to an event/ball/party/etc. they wear matching or coordinated outfits. Lucius brought it up the first time they went to a function as a couple and though it sort of surprised Narcissa at the time, it was always a given ever since. In fact, most days they’re outfits are at least coordinated.

Lucius loves it because it’s his way of telling everyone he’s the lucky bastard that landed Narcissa.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas:

They don’t even have this rule, but Lucius. Those few Christmases where it was difficult to celebrate anything, he still surprised Narcissa with amazing gifts.

Makes the other eat breakfast:

Narcissa. She makes sure Lucius eats even if it’s just a croissant on the way out.

Remembers anniversaries:

Both

Brings up having kids first:

It was never really discussed. Because they’re marriage was all but arranged, it was discussed for them and made very clear what the expectations were.

Kills the bugs:

Narcissa

Lucius ignores them and suddenly remembers something that takes him away from the bug’s vicinity.

First to define them as a couple:

Again, this didn’t really come up because of the way their formal courtship went but Lucius.

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer:

haha, Lucius.

Snorts while laughing:

Narcissa and it’s one of Lucius’ favorite sounds in the world. He’s happy the rest of the day whenever he manages to make Narcissa laugh that hard.

Thank you for sending this in! It’s been a while and I very much enjoyed it :-)

So it’s the late ‘60s and you’re just frequenting a little gay coffee shop trying to watch some little gay theatre pieces and then you’re seeing the debut of a woman who will capture the attention of New York theatre goers for the better part of the next half century

(½) “My childhood was dominated by her stories: living in the ghetto for two years, surviving off potato peels, running like an animal from the Nazis.  She was the only one who survived.  I have no grandparents.  No aunts or uncles.  Her entire family was killed.  We rose up from the ashes.  And my mother became a monster.  She deprived us like she was deprived.  My brother and I were always made to feel like a burden.  Like we were leeching from her.  There were no special occasions.  No birthdays.  No cake.  Everything was counted.  Everything was calculated.  Whenever I asked for something, I was made to feel responsible for World War II.  She’d say: ‘I didn’t survive Hitler to get you a bag of potato chips.’  She never let me feel like we were in America.  I felt like I was the one wearing stripes.  I’ve dreamed about Hitler since I was child.  He tells me I’m a mistake.  And that I should have been killed.  I remember when I grew older and started visiting the houses of friends.  I saw how their parents treated them.  How they were given gifts.  And how they were loved.  It felt like I was crawling out of the sewer, after the war, and learning that this entire time, some people had been living normal lives.“

“My mom said: ‘Val has something to say to you.’ I was sitting on the stairwell, crying. And he knew right away that I was pregnant. He didn’t yell. He didn’t say anything. He just started pacing. But I knew what he was thinking: I was eighteen years old, I was his only daughter, and he thought that having a child would ruin my life. When he finally stopped pacing, he told me: you can either get an abortion or leave the house. I knew then that I’d be entirely on my own. I started saving money from each paycheck to spend on clothing and supplies. But I had no idea what I was going to do when the baby came. My father wasn’t speaking to me. There was no eye contact. No nothing. Not that he’d ever been good at expressing his emotions. His mother had died when he was a baby. He’d had a tough life. From the outside like he didn’t care, but my mother told me that he was crying himself to sleep every night. After a few weeks he began to soften. He asked to see the sonogram. It wasn’t exactly a celebration, but at least he asked to see it. On the day of my C-section, dad spent that day drinking alone, which he rarely did. He was pretty drunk by the time I left for the hospital. He didn’t say a thing. My mom just looked at him and shook her head. But I was in the hospital for five days after my son was born, and every day my dad would visit. He’d bring us food. He’d hold my son for hours at a time. And when I came back home, there was a letter waiting for me on my bed. I’ve only read it twice in my life. Because it makes me cry too much. But he apologized for his behavior. And he said that we were going to be fine. My son is eight years old now. And whenever it’s Father’s Day at school, he brings home art for Papa. The two of them are inseparable. They’re always playing something. My son is always giving him hugs, and kisses, and saying ‘I love you.’ And Papa says it back. It’s the only time he ever says it to anyone. With my son he has no choice. It’s not in Papa’s nature to be affectionate. But it’s my son’s nature. He’s so open and natural with his emotions. He’ll give love for no reason at all, and his Papa has no choice but to accept it.”

(2/2)  “My mother died on July 6th, 2005.  One day toward the end of her life, we were in the subway together, carrying heavy packages, and I could see she was exhausted.  She turned to me and said: ‘A ganzeh leben is a schlep.’  Which means: ‘All of life is a schlep.’  And for a moment I felt her pain.  I realized I could still love her.  She couldn’t love me, but I could love her.  Despite all the abuse she’d given me, I could feel her pain.  I resurrected this old photo after her death.  She’s with her first husband.  It was weeks before he was taken away. She’s only twenty years old in this picture.  That gorgeous face.  That youth.  How could I possibly hate her the same way?  It’s unfathomable.  Not that she was right to be cruel, but it’s unfathomable what she went through.  I once helped her type a memoir to get reparations from the Germans. At the end of her story, she wrote: ‘It was a life of horror.  Having lost everything and everyone, I’d given up my struggle to live.  And at that time, it would have been easier if they had killed me.  But they didn’t.  So on I went, living in hell.‘”