#i do not ever want to see a nazi in a positive light | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toaarcan · 13 days

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I shouldn't be surprised, given that this is the Voter Suppression Website, but it's also the Punch Nazis Website and I really did expect people to have made peace with the fact that World War II happened and was ultimately necessary.

Like, I am by no means a warhawk. War is bad, the military is bad (though there's a lot of nuance there, because not having one is generally a really bad idea unless you can somehow convince everyone in the world to not have one, which you can't. Yes, the military can be a tool of imperialism. It can also be a defence against it, see Ukraine for a very current example), pacificism is great. But pacifism did not, and would not, stop the Axis.

I am also well aware that the Allies' hands were far from clean. We bombed civilians. America turned away refugees from Germany that weren't 'useful.' At the highest levels, Britain and France went to war with Germany over fears of expansionism, not because they were inherently opposed to the vile ideologies espoused by the Nazis. Everyone just kinda let imperial Japan do whatever the fuck they wanted in east Asia until they made the mistake of touching America's boats.

But in the end, the war was still a necessity. How else were the Allies supposed to stop them?

The Nazis killed six million Jewish people between 1933 and 1945. Hitler blamed the Jewish people for Germany's defeat in WWI, which makes no fucking sense, but when has bigotry ever made sense? He drew upon centuries upon centuries of antisemitism to make mass genocide a political platform that he ran on, and he won. And almost as soon as he came to power, and secured his position, he began a systematic genocide.

He and his followers were so dedicated to killing and abusing Jews that they made strategic fuckups in the war, just to continue the holocaust. When the US and British forces landed in Normandy, and the USSR began pushing in from the east, the Nazi response was to accelerate the genocide, because killing Jews mattered more to them than winning the war.

More people died building the V2 rocket at Mittelwerk than were killed in all of the V2 strikes against Britain and France. As is often said of today's fascists, cruelty was the point.

In addition to the Jewish victims of the camps, the Nazis also killed 3.3 million Soviet prisoners of war, 1.8 million Polish people that were not Jewish, 250000-500000 Romani and other travellers, 310000 Serbian civilians, 250000-300000 people with disabilities (including at least 10000 children), 'tens of thousands' of German civilians who were politically opposed to the Nazis, 35000 criminals, 1700 Jehovah's Witnesses, an unknown number of LGBTQ+ people, and an unknown number of black people.

We don't know the full numbers, because the other thing they did when they realised they were losing is burn the records. They dug up mass graves and burned the bodies. We know as much as we do because they killed so many people that it was physically impossible for them to destroy all the evidence.

They created industrialised genocide. And this is just the holocaust, not the sum total of Nazi crimes, let alone those perpetrated by fascist Italy and imperial Japan.

So yeah, in light of all of that, I cannot, and will not entertain any drop of "Well actually the Allies were bad too" because the magnitude of the horror that the Axis were indulging renders it moot. They did bad shit too? Yeah, well, they were at war with the fucking Nazis.

One of the most important parts of the first few years of the war was the Battle of Britain. At that point, the French had been defeated, and the USSR still had a very tense alignment with Germany and Italy. America had yet to formally join the war, but were selling weapons to Britain, who were seemingly the last nation left in the fight. A few American pilots had also made the trip to Britain to join the fight.

In order to launch a land invasion of the British Isles, the Nazis had to achieve air superiority over them, and so began a series of raids against the RAF, and at first, they were doing pretty well. Targeting airbases and radar installations was the correct strategic move.

And then something happened that turned the tide: The RAF bombed Berlin.

This has been claimed to be an accident, the bombers were simply lost in the night, and thought they were targeting an air base, and they weren't. That probably wasn't true. But however it happened, it pissed Hitler off massively, and he ordered the Luftwaffe to switch focus to bombing British cities.

This was a tactical blunder like no other. Taking focus away from the actual military targets allowed the RAF to regroup and actually put the defensive plan for the islands into motion. Scores of British, Polish, French, and American pilots fought to defend Britain, guided by the now-unmolested radar stations.

And it worked. In fact, it worked really well. By the end of the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe had lost so many planes and so many pilots that it severely affected their tactical use for the rest of the war.

More than that, losing the Battle of Britain meant that A) the Nazis had lost their perceived invincibility, as someone had now taken them on and won, and B) it meant that Hitler's plan to avoid a two-front war, to knock France and Britain out entirely before rounding on the USSR, had failed, and being a deranged, genocidal nutbar, who viewed the existence of Communism as an existential threat, threw away the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and declared war on the Soviets.

The Nazi reaction to the defeat of the Battle of Britain, something arguably caused by the bombing of Berlin, was the first step toward their total defeat.

So yeah, I wholeheartedly believe that fighting WWII was ultimately the best thing the Allies could've done, and the people that made the decision to fight against the Nazis did the right thing, even if they did it for the wrong reasons, or used bad methods to do so. Of all the wars throughout human history, this is the one I can argue needed to happen above all else.

#War #World War II #World War 2 #Politics #History #Military History #Killing the Nazis was the right thing to do actually

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hirik0 · 8 months

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In his shadow part 3

part 1 | part 2

Young Price/Nik

Nik POV

Nik sits in the interrogation room, waiting. Its not his first time, will not be his last one. Someone gave him a ice pack for his eye. A older man walks in, probably the leader of the Squad. "So what did you want from the weapons dealer?", the man asks in nearly accent free russian. Nik stays silent. "Who do you work for?" "What's your name?" "Where are the files?" The files are still hiden in his jacket. "Not that talkative huh?" This goes on for a while till a young blond woman is entering the room. "I will take it from here Captain", she says with a polite smile, putting down a folder on the table. "You pulled something on our guest, Laswell?", the captian asks impressed. "A littel bit", Laswell confirms, its honestly barely nothing. The Captian leaves the room, leting the two alone knowing that Kate Laswell is more then capebale of handeling herself. "Im, Kate Laswell, Nikolai", Kate indruduces herself and Nikolai is turning pale, she knows his name, his real name. "You think your father aproves of this?", she asks him still smilling politly. She knows, she fucking knows! Who is she? Did she get this information from what just a picture of him with a bloddy lip and a black eye? "Dont think my father even knows I left", Nikolai says like he dont give a fuck and not as ud he is about to panic. "Mhm, imagin what happens if he hears that is only son is selling his body like a common whore", Laswell threatens him, in the most friendlyway Nik ever experienced. Does Nikolai want to join a separist group because the leader is playing right in his daddy issues? Maybe, but he dont want it THIS bad. "What if I answer the questions?", Nikolai asks, not having another choice. "He will never know", Kate answers with a fake smile. "Deal", Nikolai answers, still afrait how this woman knows about his not so gloriuse time of not caring who is fucking him.

"Who you're working for?", Kate asks him and Nikolai has the feeling in the folder are some answers to the questions. "Seperist group, they dont like how Moscow is doing thinks", Nikolai answers, getting a not from Kate. Something she likely knows already. "Who is the group leader?", Kate asks looking up from the fille. "He intrudidet himslef as Artyorm to me, but I cant tell you if its his real name or not", Nikolai answers, getting shown a photo. "This the man you know as Artyorm?", she asks getting a head shake as answer. She pulls out another photo, another head shake one last photo answerd with another head shake, Nik never seen these man before, was this a trick or did he simply didn't know everyone in the group yet? "Discripe Artyorm", Kate tells him picking up a pencil. "Around the age of the Captain, bolt, nazi tattos he says he dont belive in anymore, brown eyes", Nikolai trys to recall Artyorm as good as possibel, at least the ones that will help to identify him and not well other things. He probablycan duscribe the mans dick better then his face. "Position of the tattoos?, Kate asks, the best identifier you could get with a face less, name less threat. "Swastica on the left site of his head, but he covers it up most of the time. Doppel ss that looks like lighting bolts on his left chest", Nikolai recalls the ones you could see outsite of a bedroom. "Anymore?", she asks him and Nikolai has the feeling shes knows that he knows that he has more. "A... destroyed David star on his right thigh", Nikolai answers looking at the table not wanting to see any judgement in the eyes of the woman. "Is it normaly covert?", Kate asked and he nods, feeling ashamed of himself. Ahe was not wrong when she called him a common whore. "What did you do at the wepaons dealer?", she asks thankfully moving on, not sounding like she is judging him. "Stealing or destroying sertain paperwork", Nikolai answers still looking at the table he knows if he looks up know the shame will get worse. "Why?" The scratching of pen on paper is filling the silence why Nik trys to rember if he ever was given a explanation for that. "Was just told, what the folder looks like not what was in it and i have to do it to join the group", Nik explains a knot slowly forming in his stomach did they sent him there to get rid of him? "They where ready to sacrefice you in there", Kate lays out the facts to him. Nikolai wants to tell her shes wrong, that he would never do this, but he cant, knowing she's right and it hurts. "I made it out", Nikolai conters weakly, he probably would not have found out of the forest. "Because you had dumb luck and Price eh.. stoped your fall", Kate says amused clearly have heared of how he and Price first 'meet'. "Well would not have to jump out the window if you guys wouldnt have shown up", Nikolai huffes, everything worked perfectly till they shown up kickign doors down. "Where are the documents?" Niks heartrate picks up, what should he answer to this. He knows the file is still hiden in his jacket, but should he give it up? He probably should use it to negociate a deal. He needs time to think, alone, he needs a plan, he owns Artyorm nothing he was used by him in more then one way. It makes his skin crawl and he has the familiar urge to shower for hours to get clean. "I will only tell Price", he answers, hoping to be able to stall some time with this request.

"Of course", Kate says before leaving Nikolai alone. Think, think, think, Nikolai tells himself, but his brain is empty. What can he ask for giving them the folder? Getting send home? Why should he go there? A way out of Russia, but where to go? What if they deam the info's not worth it? He's in a very bad postion. Kate comes back, with a angry looking patched up Price following her. His nose covered with gaze, bruises have formed by now. "Nik, that's Johnantan Price, the guy you fallen on and who's nose you broke? Twice?", Kate is introduced them, Price just looks pisst, his ears turning a light shade of red. "Have some maners John", Kate critises John's behaivor. "We fought on a forest floor, I think its to late for manner now", John states clipped its clear he wants to be away from Nik. "The folder", Kate simply says and well Nik was nothing to stall further, no think he can negotiate. "Hidden pocket in the jacket", Nik give up the information not being able to get it himself, because he is chained to the tabel just given enough motion range to put the ice pack on his eye.

Price pulls out the keys to open the hand cuffs and Nik gets out of the jacket puting it on the tabel sliding it towards Kate. The woman looks impresst but also concerned with the way the hiden pocket is worked in the piece of clothing. An expensive job because you have to know there is a hiden pocket to begin with to kniw what to look for to open it. The folder she pulls out it well it looks a bit rough, a few tears and wrinkles but it's not his fault he had to fight on the floor. He looks at Price with a your fault look. The brit is angry with it but is keeeping it together. Kate looks through the papers in a similar bad state as the folder and holds in the mid. "A customer list", she says to herself, seeing some familiar names. Now it makes sence to Nik why they need the folder to disappear. Going trough more papers till she finds a few photos that where made secretly. "Is one of these men Artyorm?", Kate asks him. Nik takes the photos, that are from bad quality, he looks at everyone till his eye stop. "The man with the hood on that is Artyorm", he says, he himself wore this piece of clothing sometimes while sleeping in Artyorms bed. "You know other names?", Kate asks him. So he looks at the other men again. "That one is Jason", he taps on a scrawny man. "Not very Russian name", Price comments, trying to frown but flinching becauseit hurts to much. "After Jason Voorhees", Nik clarifies seeing the two nodding along, they dont get it but well if they ever run into Jason they will. "The one in the green jacket could be Vitaly and I have seen the one in full black a few times but don't know his name, he always leaves when potential new members show up", Nik explains further. Kate notes everything down before asking him a dangerous question. "How hard is it to join?" Nik turns pale shit, what ever answer he gives his in deep shit. "I was ehh acquaintance with Artyorm for 5 months till he took me to a meeting", Nik answers, the shame slowly coming back. Kate notes it down. "How did you meet Artyorm?", Kate asks, having likely a idea how already if she knows he sleep around alot. "In a bar, didn't know he's part of the group then", Nik answers the feeling of disgust spreading again, making his skin crawl. "When did you learn about the group?", Kate asks him with a understanding smile. "The meeting after the 5 months", Nik says, not liking how fast Kate is writing her notes. "I have to go over this with one of my superiors", Kate says before standing up leaving him and John alone in the room.

"They will ask you to go back, this group didn't apear on any intelligence", Price says to him, his face unreadable. Nik goes even pailer by this going back? What should he even say about his delay if they even let him talk at all and not instantly killing him. "The longer I'm here the worse are my chances of survival if I go back", Nik states, feeling nausea from the fear his feeling. He maybe get fucked by the boss like a whore, but that don't means he's not disposable. "Why do you want to join?", Price asks sounding curious and like he cares a tiny bit. "Hate my dad", Nik answers regradefull, god he was so stupid, getting a littel bit of attention, a sense of worth and Artyorm had him on his hook and bed. "I hate my dad too", Price says understanding. Price is the first person his age Nik is intressted since a long time and he don't understands why. What the Brit has that draws him in and well he dont has to figure that out he's practically a dead man walking if, no when, they send him back as a spy. He can only hope he gets a good deal out if thus for risking his life, he knows what happens to suspected traitors of the cause. It was the day he understood how much blood is in a human body.

#call of duty #john price #young price #young laswell #kate laswell #cod nikolai #young nik #nik/price

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dm-clockwork-dragon · 1 year

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Another Unpopular Opinion

I was asked to delete my earlier reblog by the OP, so they didn’t get sucked into discourse, so I’m reposing this as it’s own thing Well, here I go publicly stating another opinion that will probably get me cancelled. To be entirely fair, I’m sort of beyond caring at this point?

I think people need to calm their fucking tits - homegrown, surgical, or happily removed - over not just this game, but about HP stuff in general.

I’m a recently hatched egg, but I’ve considered myself non-binary for almost 15 years, and been an ally for as long as I knew what an ally was. I also have no particular love for the franchise, despite enjoying it a lot when I was a kid. That’s not virtue signally, or an attempt to defend my position - just letting you all know a little context, and that I do actually have a horse in this race.

I get it, I really do. JK is a fucking terrible person, and should burn in a thousand multicolored hells for the bullshit she spews and the hate she engenders in others. On top of that, she’s a shitty writer, to the point where she accidentally created an entire wizarding world where the difference between the good guys and the bad guys is just what flavor of Nazi you want to choose. But there’s a couple reasons I think that people really need to try and separate her from the franchise that she started.

1. Death of the Author.

This is the one that everyone else gives. It’s possible to enjoy, appreciate, or interpret a creative work in absence of it’s author or their intent. We do it with music, we do it with painting. and Like OP here points out: if we were to burn every book written by a problematic author, we would leave glaring wholes not just in our understanding of our own history and society, but in our understanding of how to avoid the same injustices and suffering caused by those authors. Dead or alive, the author’s right and control over who others interpret their work the moment they share it with the outside world.

2. You guys don’t know how JK makes money, do you?

I see all kinds of arguments out there about how engaging with, or - dare I even mention - paying for HP content is somehow a crime against transfolk because it directly supports a raging TERF and her platform. It doesn’t. Aside from the argument that JK makes all her money through investments and stock market trades - just like any rich person - She also DOESN’T OWN THE FRANCHISE. She retains intellectual property rights: AKA, she can write new books or shit if she likes (we have seen how that goes for her), and she is still treated as the primary source, but the IP and all production rights are owned by Warner Bros. JK doesn’t make a dime off of game, movies, or anything else that WB license or produce based on THEIR franchise. She already made her money by selling the franchise to them years ago. Honestly, she probably got the raw end of the deal at this point. At most, she might get some meager royalties that are eaten up entirely by the cost of paying someone to process them. That’s how publishing contracts and movie deals work - they are a fucking racket. 3. HP isn’t just something some people can throw away.

Like I said above, I sorta grew out of my HP phase, long before any of the issue of JK being a TERF ever came up. And I know that a lot of people who considered themselves fans have also willingly distanced themselves from the franchise in light of her shitty views and actions. But not everyone has that ability. To give you a different example: I grew up reading the Dune books. I finished the core series for the first time when I was 8, and have re-read the entire extended series more than a dozen times since then. It’s more than just my favorite book series, it’s a formative part of who I am as a person. So much of my beliefs and identity as a person have been informed or inspired by those books that I would argue it is impossible to truly understand myself without them. Hell - I’d argue the entire reason I started explore my gender and sexuality in the first place is because of the emphasis those books placed on the “Quisach Haderach” as the perfect fusion of male and female. Even if I were to verbally disavow the series for some reason, those books still define who I am today, and It would be physically impossible for me to separate myself from them Harry Potter is the same way for a lot of people. I think some of us loose sight of just how meaningful those books are to a generation. Not all of us - even within that generation - had the same connection, but for a lot of people who grew up reading them from the time they could turn a page, those books are just as formative and intrinsic to who they are as Dune is to me. they couldn’t separate themselves, even if they wanted to. And pissing all over someone for something they can’t change about themselves is exactly the sort of thing we are supposed to be fighting against! Same can be said of the bible, the Torah, the Quran or any other work that was meaningful and formative to a persons cultural upbringing. Even within the trans community, there are countless Christians, Jews, and Islamic followers. They make the faith their own, because it is an intrinsic and immutable part of who they are. If you are going to condemn Trans or Allies who can’t separate themselves form HP, then you are also condemning any Ally or Transperson who still practices or believes in some form of the religion the grew up with. 4. If we can reclaim slurs, we can reclaim this! I see so many of the same people who rail against HP, also writing or relogging posts about how important it is to reclaim slurs and other labels that have been historically used against us, and I agree. But that shit goes a lot further than just the names we have been called. Reclaiming something from those who would hurt you with it is like picking up the rock that was thrown at you, and saying “neat, this is mine now, you cant have it back”, as opposed to just kicking it back to the abuser so they can hurl it at you again. JK is a terrible person. which is all the more reason that we have a responsibility to take this beloved franchise away from her. She doesn’t deserve it, and as long as it remains in her power, she can continue to use it as a platform to hurt people. And this isn’t without precedent: Look at Butch Hartman, or Joss Wheaton, or Notch, or Gary Gygax. We have a history and a present filled with examples of taking beloved content away from shitty people a deciding “this is ours now, you can’t have it back.” We take those things that were or are important to us, and reframe them, re-write them, or reimagine them into something positive and supportive. As an author myself, I know quite well how painful it can be to see your work taken away from you, and transformed by people who don’t share your vision. So lets hurt JK where it counts! Not in the wallet, not by railing against her on social media, but by taking away the one meaningful thing she has ever created in her miserable life. Because she doesn’t fucking deserve it.

#HP #harry potter #not dnd #jk rowling #unpopular opinion

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dumbestthingiveeverheard · 10 months

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Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/3/2023

Fifth place: Twitter user @eyeskewer

This is a little older than the stuff I normally cover on this blog, but I feel like this is worth highlighting as it perfectly shows my issue when many who make conspiratorial claims about transgender medical care:

my "informed consent" was my doctor I had just met handing me papers telling me my voice would drop soon, I could freeze my eggs, I might get acne, and whatever else. I probably didn't even hear everything she said, I just told her I wanted the shot. so I got it. I just turned 18

So you were told you wanted something medical done to you, were told about the risks and consequences, and then got it. I really don't see what the big deal is here.

Fourth Place: Marco Rubio

Elon Musk's time as CEO of Twitter has been far from perfect, but easily the best addition he has made is the community notes feature. For just one example, here is a Tweet from Marco Rubio:

Also, those claims about the 2016 Presidential Election were never proven to be fake--just wanted to add that real quick.

Third Place: Scott Lively

The deranged homophobe who wrote an entire book blaming the Nazis on homosexuality wrote a column a couple of days back with the headline "Leftist lawfare and the abuse of power." A decent chunk of it is spent defending Russian President Vladimir Putin, but here are some highlights:

In all my years of watching corporate U.S. news about Russia and Putin, I have never seen a single counter-argument ever being offered in defense of President Putin (coverage of him is even worse than that of Trump). It's been more than a decade since Obama restarted the Cold War to punish the Russians for banning "gay" propaganda to children, when every story began to paint him as a "brutal monster" – to the point that even many conservatives (who have zero reason to trust that same media on anything) seem to agree.

The hatred of Putin on an international scale has nothing to do with the anti-homosexuality laws he has put in place while President of Russia--although, don't get me wrong, that didn't help matters, but several countries with anti-homosexuality laws are still seen in a positive light by the international community (wrongfully so, in my opinion). It was more his imperial ambitions--starting with his invasion of Georgia in 2008--that caused the international community to move away from him.

Second Place: Abby Johnson

I've mostly been ignoring the story about a handful of far-right Christians refusing to support the fringe Presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy because of his Hinduism, however given Abby Johnson was sold to us a few years back as a a reasonable anti-abortion activist--an oxymoron if I've ever heard one. And she has decided to take a stance against a Hindu President, saying:

Do not be a victim of Satan’s confusion right now. This is an important time for us to have clarity of mind as we are going into an election cycle. So please discern. Please use discernment right now because God hates those who are willing to put up idols over him, and he will not be mocked.

All I wish to say is that if you really want a President that's a dedicated Christian--can I recommend you a guy named Joe Biden? Oh who am I kidding, if Ramaswamy does get the nomination it's going to be just like when Billy Graham took Mormonism off his list of cults so he and his followers could vote for Mitt Romney in 2012.

Winner: Ben Shapiro

This man, considered by many to be serious political commentator, does not know the difference between eating and drinking:

[Trump] would face a whopping 641 years in prison. Which I assume means he would not survive prison. Although he is 70% preservatives at this point because he eats so much McDonalds and Diet Coke.

He eats Diet Coke? Ben, do you know how Diet Coke works?

Ben Shapiro you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

#eyeskewer #marco rubio #scott lively #abby johnson #ben shapiro

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suspiciousriver · 6 months

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At the Gas Station

The patchwork quilt is this:

a Navajo, a pal, a Ronald Reagan,

Two baritone boys, and an alcoholic.

Spanish, plaid, orange juice, white noise,

Criterion, draping my legs over Paul’s

knees and his playful tap.

Me and my friends and we’re chugging beer,

Sky shows up and she was a friend from my childhood

And she plays pool with her boyfriend

and they’re the type that Neo opens the door to.

I bought two gray rabbits at King’s Thrift

And I positioned them to touch noses.

Two black eyes and their noses kissing

on a bookcase and when I sat on the couch

I began to think of them as a camera.

I painted the one rabbit pink with flowers

and left the other one gray.

I looked to the left and their eyes were

Cold-black and chill-haunted.

This is how we taunt: with helicopters

and invisible cameras and a surveilled

Boob light.

No one believes that Paul and I were

that tight.

Zach gives me two objects:

A Gameboy and a wind-up mouth toy,

You twist it and it chatters and jumps

Downstairs. I have too many lost objects to count.

I had three chests that I kept by the door.

A trophy from my debate days.

I was neatly clipped.

He was neatly tipped.

I am too tired to talk.

It’s too dark to walk.

I’m better suited for flourescent-white, sterile,

spandex environments anyway.

I have seen this before:

Mother-rape-son. He had a right to roll

his eyes. African man with angry eyes

I’m trying to tell you:

Maybe when I look in the mirror I see a face that’s better suited for darkness, or lamps, and that scares me — the sun can be so critical.

I don’t always feel deserving of it.

Ever catch a sun ray so pure and warm it sets your heart on fire? I chase that feeling daily. I chase warmth daily.

Love is a form of knowledge,

which I think it is.

We share blue eyeliner.

You’re a thought in your own head, honey.

Will a Twisted tea fix this?

It won’t.

It’s all hidden crackhead knowledge.

These are the treats.

Every day

boiled eggs.

Castro visited Utah and the truck

newspapers. Rich!

That was genuine disgust

Because I looked like a

mullet-Malcom-X-Nazi-whore.

The Asian doctor sniffed my crotch

And said, “You’re really being released

with all of that baggage?”

Fuck you. This is why he ran.

St. George man and I ride the same

wavelength. He was trying to maintain

his sanity.

They flock around Derrick's slit neck

and I am so grief-ridden that I kicked

him. I did not want to escalate.

Is he alive? South Korea Ender’s Game dude

and his robotic voice cracked into my skull:

I am thinking about sex.

This is why I cannot sleep.

He’s 32. You’re nothing. You’re everything.

Give it to Gina: I looked trashy as hell.

Can you act black for a second?

What does Cuba represent?

Not Adrian. Not Adrienne.

Pizza gate: I am politely telling you,

I do not have that disease.

Thank you. It was Isaiah’s parakeet,

and the Bible. I am politely

asking you to show me your 7 cults.

I am asking you to FaceTime my husband

and his dirty beard and a seatbelt.

Day Two, they helped strap

me to a gurney and I was secured.

We like to drop hints: Sunglasses and something is seriously wrong

with the lifeboat. It was his ball sweat and a dog named Cujo.

My father/crack was a child. My father thinks I’m ugly.

It’s about time we met each other

for real. I resisted those journals for two years

because he Ultra-Blued his way onto my couch.

A big treat from the nice girl, pink soap.

I was smelly. I was brown. Here are your affirmation

cards: World-War-3. I should have

invited Shane(heroin)and my mother(meth)

to share the same couch. I had to snip

my chlorine hair because it was locking.

California is the deep fake. Home box office

recession. Century 16. Who can pretend to be the

most grateful for a chicken leg? I was.

me and a denim coat. Artificially intelligent

and let’s keep shit on TikTok. I met you through

MF Doom and Tupac. The world’s worst violent arm

length and fishing for work. Pork! I want to eat you.

Toasters and fake forks and that twitch.

It’s mine. I want small work. Here is the crystal cage.

Men are obsessed with my militantly tight pussy

and masked men keep shit loud. I don’t know why you don’t finger yourself

I want you! That was a real treat from Joe. I want to sever three red ties.

The blonde. The host. The pace. MINUS 3 POINTS: BACK TO JAZZ.

He lashes his own back like Jesus

and I cannot help him there.

That was her favorite hiss.

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cinemacentral666 · 9 months

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The Element of Crime (1984)

Movie #1,142 • Ranking Lars von Trier #4

Let it be known that during this LVT filmography viewing I made the executive decision to only ever watch full director filmographies in chronological order. That had always been my preferred method, but I thought it would be best if, from time to time, I mixed up the order for [insert reasoning here]. This is the sixth or seventh Trier flick I've consumed (depending on how you want to count his two early shorter films and both the first two seasons of his Danish TV show) and it's essentially ground zero for the man's career. It's as weird and as bold of a debut feature that I've ever seen.

I feel like it's worth mentioning that I am now starting at the beginning and only going forward, because everything about this felt like a shock having digested some of his other work, most notably: his prime "Golden Heart Trilogy" of films (1996-2000) and his most recent work, 2018's The House That Jack Built. It felt like a different director and I say that in the most positive way. Some similarities arose, naturally. The sepia tones were visually similar to The Kingdom's (though more on this later). The conversational voice-over between main character Fisher and his Cairo hypnotist felt like a direct through-line to how the character of Virgil functions in Jack. And the general "frustrated search for something largely intangible that will ultimately disappoint if not fully horrify" evoked pretty much everything I've seen by the man in some way.

But structurally and compositionally, this felt like a whole new world. In fact, in many ways, it is a complete invention of Trier's. This "Europe" consists of fictional cities and towns where it's always night and everything is drenched in liquid. Despite a few grounding allusions, there is no specific state or country, just this cold, wet dystopia broadcast under yellowy sodium lights. The sets used and built for this are fantastic, each a kind of micro-labyrinth, a small mystery onto themselves cutting against the larger noir framework of the movie's plot: a man is on the hunt for a serial killer of small girls before he strikes again. Detective Fisher (Michael Elphick) navigates this spaces in a literal daze, as the entirety of the action is presented as the memory of a man, now an expatriate in Egypt, spilling his guts to a guy with a monkey on his shoulder. This is the first of two primates to get screen-time. The second, notably of the lower order, Fisher finds in a gutter, scared to death and confused, perhaps a stand in for the audience….

I believe that guy is a loris. To start your film with monkey and end it with a loris speaks to some theme of reverse evolution. The fascist nightmares we see are a product of no less. In fact, this – coupled with the elements of his earlier student work and up through his unfortunate "I'm a Nazi" comments – provide much of the framework for understanding Trier's motives on a larger scale. I do believe it goes beyond simple provocation and is worth explorin. I think he's trying to make sense of a world still drying out from the tsunami that was WWII. But I'll put a pin in it that for now before I get to watch the rest of his films.

The Element of Crime is not a movie made for easily digestible 'understanding' or textbook mystery reveals. Even when you get the gist/uncover the trick, he throws a mysterious postscript that shrouds things further. I'm still trying to make sense of these manic bald men…

LVT created a world here. His stellar framing, innovative shots, and glorious use of light all cut against the frantic, obtuse and occasionally obscene script in such a delightful way. Sure, maybe it's all an amalgamation of influence (certainly Andrei Tarkovsky and Lynch's Eraserhead among others) but it's still wholly more than the sum of its parts.

I took a weird route to get to this beginning. In a way, I'm glad I did, but I'm even more excited to keep going forward.

SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I’ll be counting down all of Lars Von Trier’s movies right here at @cinemacentral666 every Thursday through September 2023

#1984 #lars von trier director #crime #10 #🇩🇰#michael elphick #esmond knight #meme lai #jerold wells

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nev3rfound · 3 years

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someone i once knew : b.b - p.3

tony has questions, but he isn’t the only one wanting an explanation (2.6k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

(also thank you for the insane amount of support for this series! you guys have taken me by such surprise and i am so grateful you’re all invested :) )

Tony steps into your suite, trying to subtly notice the changes you’ve made whilst he was gone.

“Look, Tony, if this is about the files I’m really sorry,” You sigh apologetically, catching Tony’s attention as he turns to face you. “sometimes my R’s end up looking like N’s and I didn’t mean for it to look like I’d written Tony Stan-”

Holding his hand up, you stop your rambles as Tony raises a brow. “Y/n, that’s not why I’m here.” Tony interrupts you. “Wait, it said that?” He questions and you weakly nod, but quickly he returns to his original thought process; why he is here in the first place.

“Then, why are you here?” You ask nervously, feeling a pit begin to form in your stomach.

“Nat passed on a message, that you didn’t seem very well.” Tony explains, now pacing around the entrance of your suite whilst you remained still, too still for his liking. “And I overheard a conversation from two super soldiers discussing you.” Tony motions to you, catching sight of your eyes widening.

“I, why would they talk about me?” You question in disbelief, hearing multiple voices run through your mind, some yelling over Tony as he continues to talk to you, but you can only see his lips moving.

“-and that you know them somehow, funny really.” Tony huffs to himself as he walks in the direction of the small kitchen you have, noticing a glass half-filled with a single flower, dried out, dead. “Don’t you think, Y/n?”

The prolonged silence from you catches Tony out as he glances over his shoulder, seeing you stood calmly, tears streaming down your face.

“Y/n?” Tony calls out, carefully nearing you as he waves his hand in front of your eyes, but there’s no response. “FRIDAY? Get Banner for me.”

With a deep exhale, you collapse down to the ground. “I, I, I’m sorry,” You breathe out, coughing loudly on a sob that chokes your throat.

Kneeling down in front of you, Tony eyes your movements carefully. “What’s going on with you, Y/n?” He thinks aloud as you manage to sit upright, clutching your legs to your chest as a look of horror solidifies across your expression.

Bruce opens the door to your suite, looking alert as he notices both you and Tony on the ground.

“Everything okay, Tony?” Bruce asks hesitantly, seeing a level of concern cross Tony’s frown.

“Just, sit still, okay.” Tony instructs you, but you’re barely responsive as Tony walks away, taking Bruce outside of your suite as the door remains slightly ajar.

Rubbing his temples, Tony sighs. “What’s going on with her? Bad day or something?” Bruce jokes, but Tony shakes his head.

“I think she might be a plant.” The tone leaving his voice is enough to remove any humour from Bruce as he straightens up. “Somehow, Steve and Bucky know her, or at least knew her.” Tony explains. “But she seems oblivious, and I’m just wondering if she’s just like Barnes, waiting to be activated.”

Bruce hums in response. “What’re we supposed to do with her then if she’s potentially some killing machine?” The words feel sour leaving his lips, but Bruce has read the files on HYDRA.

Over Tony’s shoulder, Bruce watches as a small hand reaches out to the door and pulls it open.

Tony can’t help but tense as you stand against the door frame, a weak smile forming on your lips despite the dried tears lining your cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me, Tony.” You sadly admit. “Do, do you think you can help me, please?”

“Come with us, Y/n.” Bruce forces a grin as he walks toward the elevator, Tony hanging back as you slowly walk out and stand beside Tony.

“Can you help make it stop, Tony?” You plead to your employer who seems conflicted.

“We’ll do what we can.” Tony coldly states, walking behind you to the elevator, ensuring you stand between him and Bruce, just in case anything happens.

Your footsteps can be heard throughout the base as you follow behind the woman in charge. Heads turned as she walks with confidence, no one taking notice of who you are in her presence.

Pushing the door open to her office, you follow in and hover by the chair. “Please, Y/n,” Peggy motions to the chair as she closes the door, lowering the blinds too to ensure privacy.

“Thank you for meeting me, Ms Carter.” You speak politely, trying to keep a facade up that everything will be alright, but if there’s anyone who can see right through it, it’s Peggy Carter.

Rifling through the files on her desk, Peggy opens up a series of them as the papers cover the space in front of her. “Oh Y/n, call me Peggy.” Her red lips rise to a sincere smile, hoping you’d ease the tension you’re holding. “Well, the good news is I’ve had the report in from the Doctor, and you’re fit and healthy all around.”

You can’t stop the giggle of excitement escape you. “Sorry,” You mutter, but Peggy doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest; it’s the most positive you’ve sounded in the past two years you’ve known her.

“No need to be, there are still a few more tests we have to run on both you and the machinery. However, if all still stands, we should be able to do our first test run within the year.” Peggy explains, catching sight of the frown on your lips deepening. “I know this isn’t the news you hoped for today, but trust me, this is progress.”

Peggy reaches out, placing her hand on the desk. Slowly, you extend your arm, allowing her to take your hand in hers.

“We both lost, Y/n. But we can move forward.” She assures you once more, hoping someday you’ll believe it yourself.

“It happened again,” You explain, looking up directly to the clock, noticing five minutes have passed since you focused on it. “it keeps happening, more frequently than before and I can’t control it.” Panic rises in your voice as you perch on the lab bench, studying Tony and Bruce's reactions as they monitor you closely.

“So these, ‘memories’ aren’t your own?” Tony asks uncertainly.

Rubbing your eyes as they continue to pound, you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, they’re in my head, and I can remember aspects of them, certain noises, settings and sometimes people. I, I was with a Carter,” You squint, trying to remember her name, but you sigh heavily. “I can’t remember, sorry.”

“Carter?” Tony repeats, and you nod. “Interesting.” He mumbles as he helps Bruce hook you up to the systems, hoping to catch your next ‘memory’ and see your brain activity whilst monitoring your heart. “I, I’ve gotta make a call.” Tony excuses himself, nodding to Bruce before exiting the lab.

“If you can just lie down, Y/n.” Bruce asks you gently, seeing the fear in your eyes as you lie back. “I’m just going to place these on your head and chest.”

Closing your eyes, you try your best to relax whilst images of a brunette with red lipstick form in your mind. You can hear her faintly saying two names, but your ability to focus is gone once again.

Across the compound, Bucky is barely able to focus as he slams his fists against the torn punching bag whilst Steve stands on the other side, keeping it in place after Bucky nearly threw Sam across the room.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Bucky shifts his attention across the gym to Natasha and Wanda’s conversation.

Natasha shrugs her shoulders as she stretches out. “I don’t know, she went dead behind the eyes and as I left her, Tony was heading her way.” Natasha explains, and Bucky looks over to Steve.

“Buck, I’m sure it’s fine.” Steve tries to help, but Bucky shakes his head.

“I can feel it, Steve,” Bucky mutters. “somethings wrong, I, I can’t just leave it.” He explains, swiftly walking off out of the gym as eyes turn to Steve holding the rocking bag.

Scoffing under his breath, Steve pushes the bag away from him. “Bad day.” Steve comments before running after Bucky before he can do any potential damage.

Sitting with his fellow soldiers, Bucky tries to disguise his rising fears, but his foot continues to tap against the ground. “You got a dame back home, Barnes?” One of the soldiers, Johnson asks and light laughter echoes through the cells as they all wait for some movement to be heard.

Lifting his head up, Bucky focuses on each of those he can see from his regiment, those who are left at least. No one is sure who captured them, but Bucky knows they aren't likely to get out of this scot free, or alive for that matter.

“I do,” Bucky admits quietly. “and she’s the most wonderful gal I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

“That’s sweet,” Johnson comments, sitting opposite Bucky as he wipes his bloodied nose with his palm. “just, just keep thinkin’ about her, alright? That sorta thought helps.” He nods to Bucky before resting his head back against the metal bars.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers as footsteps can be heard, heading directly towards his cell. “if I don’t make it out, can you tell her I,”

Before Bucky can finish his sentence, two large men unlock his cell and grab him. He manages to catch a glimpse at the red band on their arms, noticing a different symbol than the Nazi one branded in his mind.

“Please, just tell her!” Bucky yells as he’s dragged out of sight, unaware of the horrors he’s about to face.

Focusing on Bruce, you tense as the stickers are placed on your forehead. “Sorry, did that hurt?” Bruce asks timidly, but you shake your head.

“Just kinda cold,” You nervously remark as the rest are slowly placed. “where did Tony go?”

Bruce looks past you at the glass walls, seeing Tony walk out of sight with his phone against his ear. “He, er, had to make a quick phone call. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.” Bruce reasons as he attaches the last sticker to your chest before averting his attention to the computer systems.

Closing your eyes, you listen to the methodical tapping of keys and the sudden sound of your heart rate beside you flashing up on a monitor.

“Okay, all systems in place. Now it’s down to you to induce a ‘memory.’“ Bruce forces an anxious laugh as you simply look at him before tilting your head back to focus on the blank ceiling, a shame they couldn't cover it in stickers like the dentist used to, you think.

“Do you think I’m evil?” You ask, not daring to move your vision from the ceiling, unaware of Bruce stepping back.

“No.” He responds quickly. “I think you’ve been manipulated with, but I don’t think you’re evil.” Bruce justifies, checking the brain activity to see any spikes, but it remains standard.

“You’re acting like I’m made of glass.” You comment, now moving your head to see Bruce rubbing his hands together as he watches the monitors. “But I’m not, I, I know my parents, my childhood home and school." Your voice begins to waver, but you carry on regardless. "I can tell you the classes I took in college, my first boyfriend and my first time drinking.” You ramble, but Bruce is trying to ignore you. “Please, I, I know who I am.” You whimper, slamming your head back as you stare at the bare white walls above you.

Outside, Tony listens as the line ends up with him left answering a voicemail for the third time.

“Fury, it’s Stark, listen, I need to speak with you urgently. There’s something going on with my new assistant, Y/n Y/l/n. She, she knows Peggy Carter and, just call me back, ASAP.” Huffing, Tony leans against the wall, wondering how he got himself into this mess.

Yet, his moment of contemplation is short-lived as yells from Steve can be heard up ahead.

“Buck, just stop!” Steve shouts as Bucky comes into view, eyes dark and fists clenched as he marches down the corridor.

“Woah, woah, where do you think you’re going?” Tony asks, standing in front of Bucky as Steve catches up in time before Bucky raises his fists.

Holding Bucky back, Steve grunts as Bucky fights against his hold.

“Where is she?” Bucky can feel the anger rising through his veins as Tony buries his hands in his pockets, remaining perfectly calm.

“Where’s who?” Tony asks, looking up to Steve who shakes his head, still struggling to hold Bucky back.

“Come on, Tony. We know you have Y/n down here,” Steve sighs, a brief moment of weakness that Bucky detects as he slams his elbow into Steve’s stomach, causing him to recoil and release Bucky.

Without a moment to lose, Bucky rushes forward to the lab and before he’s stunned by Tony, he catches sight of you on a metal slab, hooked up to machinery with tears streaming down your face.

“No, Y/n!” Bucky screams, pausing by the glass wall, his metal hand resting against it as you begin to turn your head, a second too late as Tony fires a stun at him, forcing Bucky to the ground.

Your breathing increases, causing your heart rate to spike and Bruce rushes over. “Hey, Y/n, it’s fine. Tony has just er, stunned him.” Bruce explains, but your eyes widen.

“Bruce, I, I need to see him, please, let me see Bucky.” You practically beg, trying to pull the wires from yourself but Bruce manages to hold you down before you notice a needle piercing your arm.

With heavy eyes, your focus on Bruce begins to fade. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We’ve gotta keep you here.” His voice sounds too far away as your vision darkens, the last of the ceiling disappearing as your eyes close.

Bucky grunts as he remains on the ground, but turns his head to see Tony stood with his hand covered by his Iron Man tech, a glow of pale blue emitting from his palm, yet to be fired.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve calls out from beside Tony.

Not responding verbally, Bucky nods as he uneasily stands, holding his hands up and remains on the spot where he fell, out of sight from you.

“Tony, lower your hand.” Steve scoffs, and Tony hesitantly obliges, powering his charge down. “I told you not to come here, Bucky,” Steve comments like a disappointed parent, but Bucky’s jaw clenches as he looks at the floor beneath him, the scuff marks from where he fell moments prior.

“Are one of you planning on telling me what the hell is going on here? Because I’ve got a delusional assistant having a brain scan in there who might be a potential HYDRA plant and I want answers.” Tony steps forward, looking between the two super soldiers. “No, you don’t wanna tell me?” Tony raises his arms in defeat and begins to walk away, back to the lab.

“Bucky,” Steve mutters to his friend who eases his jaw and finally looks up.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” Bucky speaks up, and Tony spins on his heels, facing Bucky. “she was my fiance.”

Tony stares at Bucky in disbelief before whistling loudly. "Well, I didn't expect that."

P A R T F O U R

(thank you to the following for all the love in the first two parts! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know) (tagging those who wished to be tagged from p2!)

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25

Y/n puts an end to everything.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)

Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.

You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.

She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.

"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."

You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.

"What is Chase making you do?"

"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"

She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.

"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.

"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.

The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."

"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.

"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.

You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.

The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.

You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.

"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.

The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.

"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.

To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.

He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.

The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.

"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.

Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.

"Sorry about the mess."

Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.

You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open.

You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint.

You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open.

“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.”

You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation.

He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically.

“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?”

Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.”

You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you.

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.

You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?”

“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.”

“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.”

Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"

"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"

"She sure does." You smirked.

Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."

"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"

It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.

You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.

"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."

"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."

He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."

"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."

"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."

"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.

"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"

"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.

"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."

"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."

"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."

"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."

Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."

"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."

Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"

"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."

Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"

"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."

"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."

You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.

"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."

He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."

"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."

Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."

You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.

You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.

Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.

The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.

"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.

He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.

He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.

Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.

You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.

Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.

With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.

Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.

"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.

"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."

Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.

You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.

Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."

You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.

You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.

"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.

"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."

Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #the sommelier #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x reader #hannibal x will #tw violence #tw grape without the g #tw sex abuse #tw sex trafficking #tw christianity

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puppetsoftomorrow · 3 years

Text

avalance wedding vows

@puppetavasharpe challenged me to write the avalance wedding vows, so i wrote everything but the vows! (nah jokes there are some vows in here i just got Very carried away lmao). i'll clean up and post to ao3 when i find the time. enjoy!!

They both agreed they’d spent too much time apart in the weeks before their wedding to spend the night before it apart, and Sara was grateful, the nervous hammering of her heart calmed by Ava’s hand in hers, as they lay in the semi-darkness, neither ready to sleep quite yet.

“We're getting married tomorrow.” Ava said softly into the darkness.

“Yeah.” Sara said, the sound floating in the air. “Do we have to do it front of everyone? Can't we elope? Because we have a time machine, we don’t need to be married by an Elvis impersonator in Vegas, I can take us to get married by the real Elvis -”

“You're nervous.” Ava said - it wasn't a question, more of a slightly surprised statement, and Sara made an indignant noise.

“No, Sara Lance does not get nervous -”

Ava squeezed her hand, and Sara stopped the act.

“Fucking terrified. You?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Ava said softly. “But - the idea that you’ll be there - that helps. Is that weird?”

“No.” Sara said, as she moved further into her fiancée's side. “No, I think that helps me too.”

“Have you got everything ready? Are your vows written?” Ava asked, and it was Sara’s turn to squeeze her hand, trying to calm the part of Ava that needed their wedding day to run like a train station under communist rule.

“Yeah, all written.” She said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. She had some pointers on a piece of paper in the pocket of her dress, and her plan of seeing where the day took her for the rest of it would almost certainly work. “What about you?”

“All done.” Ava said, her tone almost strangled, and Sara turned, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at her.

“Why do you look so guilty?” Sara asked, slightly confused, and her face broke into a grin when Ava started to flush pink.

“I wrote them - um – maybe about a year ago.”

“What? But I hadn't proposed -”

“I know.” Ava said, a hand coming up to cover her cheek. “It wasn’t - um - after anything in particular, you’d just come back from Star City and it sort of hit me, then, that this is what I wanted. For the rest of my life. So, I wrote them.”

“But you waited all this time -”

“Because I wanted you to propose to me.” Ava said, her voice soft, and she turned away, clearly embarrassed, but Sara’s hand caught her, to bring their eyes back together. “I just - I wanted to be proposed to. I know that’s sappy. And I wanted you to know, on your own, that you were completely ready.”

“I’m ready.” Sara said softly, as she ran her thumb along Ava's cheekbone. “That's adorable. You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” Ava muttered, still bright red, and Sara laughed.

“Aw, Aves, is that any way to treat your future wife?”

“Go to sleep.” Ava said, grinning now, and she gently pushed Sara back down. Sara took full advantage of the new position and moved close, pressing her face against Ava’s shoulder and snaking her arms around her waist.

“I'm excited to hear them. I can't wait to marry you.”

“I can't wait either.” Ava said, voice a near whisper. “And - if it gets too much tomorrow- we can go find Elvis and he can marry us.”

“Thank you.” Sara said as she yawned, finally ready to sleep. “Night, baby. Love you.”

“Goodnight, my love.” Sara heard, softly spoken, as she drifted off to sleep.

///

Best laid plans - and Ava's plans were always the best - seemed a truism in that moment. Guests had been arriving in a constant stream, Mick making trips in the jump ship to pick everyone up, grumbling that he wasn't a taxi service, and Sara had only just finished getting ready - slipping into her white jumpsuit and curling her hair, as Nate sat on the bed and gushed about how beautiful love was, Behrad fast asleep next to him.

Constantine's mansion looked wonderful, Astra having spent a week learning the spells to cover the place in streamers and balloons, only they kept appearing and disappearing randomly, which caused Sara to yelp as a party of balloons suddenly appeared next to her.

She’d lost her shoes. These shoes were nothing special, but Sara was determined to find them, because they were her tallest pair, and she wasn't having Ava craning her neck to kiss her in every one of their wedding photos. People might think she was short or something.

Sara rounded into the ballroom, and saw something she was definitely not meant to see.

“Ava?” She said, and Ava turned, squeaked, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Sara! What are you doing! Nate said he’d keep you in the bedroom until -”

“I’m just - what are you doing?”

“It's bad luck to see each other.” Ava said, eyes still tight shut, and Sara laughed, a slightly shaky sound.

“Well, baby, I’ve seen you now.” She looked her up and down, slightly in awe. Ava's dress was simple, ivory satin with a bardot neckline, her hair curled over one shoulder, elegant and beautiful. There was a quiver in Sara’s voice when she spoke again. “You're so beautiful. How did I ever get this lucky?”

“Stop it, you shouldn’t even be seeing me.” Ava said, her voice also thick with emotion, and Sara took three steps forward across the ballroom, taking Ava’s hands in her own.

“You can look, baby.” Sara said softly, and Ava’s eyes opened, widening when she took in what Sara was wearing. When their eyes connected again, there were tears on her lashes.

“You look so pretty. Are those trousers?”

Sara laughed and nodded, trying to keep her own tears at bay. “Yeah, um, the last wedding I went to was kind of invaded by Nazi superheroes, so I thought this would work for fighting.”

“You’re so practical. I'm not going to ask about the Nazis.” Ava sniffed, and Sara reached out to hold her hands.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Sara said softly.

“You'll be there, won’t you? At the end, waiting for me?” Ava asked, almost shyly, and Sara nodded. All the Legends, even Spooner, had offered to walk her down the aisle when it had come out that Ava had no family to do it for her, but Ava had decided to walk alone.

Her only caveat - that Sara go first, so she could see who she was walking towards.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll be there.” Sara said, and turned slightly at Behrad’s shout of “I’ve found them!”

“That's my cue.” Sara said, trying to shake the tears from her eyes, and Ava scrunched her brow.

“Found what?”

“I'll tell you afterwards baby. I'll see you later.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” Ava said softly, and Sara beamed at her, before turning to run back the other way, before anyone saw that they’d seen each other.

///

Sara stood in the eaves, looking out to the flower filled garden, guests seated and talking, enjoying the sun and the chance to see old friends.

If her nerves weren’t bad before -

“You ready, kid?”

The gruff voice of her dad came from just behind her, and Sara nodded, trying to hide her sweating palms.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I just -” She started, then her voice dropped slightly. “I wish Laurel was here. I’d never imagined that I'd be doing this without her.”

“She’d be so proud of you.” Quentin said softly, and Sara nodded, a wet laugh escaping her lips when she realized they were both crying.

Before Sara could reply, the familiar tune played on the violin swept over the garden, and the guests fell in a hush, and Sara accepted the handkerchief her dad offered to wipe her eyes.

Quentin held out his arm, and Sara looped hers through his, stepping out into the light.

///

It all seemed like a blur. Ava walked down the aisle, a vision in white, a nervous smile on her face, and Sara considered just booking it down the few feet of grass that separated them to hold her hand, but she stayed firm, and Ava reached her, handing her bouquet off to Mona, and Sara reached out then, threading their fingers together. Nate’s words about love and their relationship almost melted away as she stared into Ava’s eyes, and she would have missed the vows if it weren’t for Ava gently squeezing her hand.

“Sara - I -” Ava started, stopped, took a shaky breath, and Sara beamed at her, willing her on, and Ava swallowed. “I wrote this after you came to Purgatory to get me. I’d never imagined, up until that point, that anyone could ever love me enough to do something like that, bring me back from the precipice, but you did.” Ava paused, and smiled gently at her. “You’ve changed my life irrevocably, and always for the better. You’ve made me a better person, a more thoughtful person, you’ve helped me to find who I am – you've also helped me to lose both my job and my house, but we won’t dwell on that -”

Ava seemed almost surprised when the guests laughed, and Sara squeezed her hand.

“Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you do something that surprises me. I can’t imagine my life – my future - without you in it, and I want it, all of it, every crazy adventure and every not so crazy one, just – all of it, because, I know whatever it is, you’ll be there with me, and we’ll face it together.” Ava said, then took a breath. “I love you, Sara Lance. Always and forever.”

Sara stood, slightly open mouthed, and would have kissed her if that wasn’t the main event in a few minutes. “Your turn.” Ava said, soft and just for her, and Sara nodded, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. She dropped Ava’s hands, and pulled her notes out.

Another benefit of a jumpsuit – pockets.

“Well, I wrote these vows after you said we couldn’t elope and get married by Elvis -” Laughter rippled through the assembled crowd, and Sara felt her shoulders relax. “Ava - I don’t know what good I did in this life to deserve you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve died, and I’ve lost my way so many times and I never thought I could find my way back, but with you – I know I can always find my way home.”

Ava smiled at her, tears on her cheeks, and Sara moved to hold her hand again.

“I love you. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know it’ll be okay, because you’ll be there with me. I’ll be here, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Ava nodded, beaming through her tears, and Nate pronounced them married, and Sara could finally kiss her, and the light came in, warm and true.

///

“If I’d known that Behrad was such a huge Celine Dion fan, I wouldn't have let him be the DJ.” Sara said, pressing herself closer to Ava to be heard over the music that was sounding through the ballroom. Ava laughed, the sound moving through her, and Sara held her wife a little tighter as they slow danced to Because You Loved Me. “You’d think a guy from 2042 would have better music taste.”

“This wouldn't be such a bad first dance.” Ava hummed, swaying gently. They'd tried to forgo as much formality as they could - speeches and a first dance included - but Sara had danced with her dad, and Ava had danced with him to in a move that made Sara cry for the tenth time that day.

“It’s sappy as hell.” Sara said, and Ava laughed again.

“You are sappy, you’ve cried so many times today.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten soft.” Sara said, eyebrows knitting together, until Ava pressed a kiss there.

“That’s not a bad thing.” Ava hummed, and they stood there, swaying gently. “Your vows were soft.”

“Yeah, and now all my family and friends know I have feelings.” Sara said with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve really ruined my reputation.”

Ava shrugged, before moving backwards to spin Sara before catching her again. “I rather like that you have feelings.” Ava said softly, once Sara was safe in her arms again, and Sara melted into it just as the last beat of the song played across the room.

The moment was ruined when Behrad yelled, and Bootylicious started to play across the radio. Sara burst out laughing to see Zari had taken up position next to the speakers.

“Actually, I change my mind, this is our first dance.” Ava said, and Sara just laughed as the rest of the guests started to pour onto the dancefloor.

#phoebe lifeblogs #legends of tomorrow #avalance #okay for the tags #behrad is a celine dion fan #and z2 loves destiny's child #i dont make the rules

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

on fear under stark, dying lighting || thomas jefferson, fotp-verse

title: on fear under stark, dying lighting

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader, an fotp-verse oneshot

words: 5k

request: how would thom react if lets say maybe his neo-nazi supporters get too passionate abt their anger towards mc’s articles and um try to shoot/mug/harm her to stop her from writing anything else against thom?

notes: ok so first off lemme preface this w the fact that thom is a self respecting black man who has another self respecting black man as his running mate so tbr the neo-nazi white supremacists r not exactly his demographic of supporters. that said i fucking loved this prompt; set in the universe of freedom of the press, but not canon w/ the storyline

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8@assbuttstyles777 @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa@hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies@fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach@snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed@rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk@daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich@cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudynblw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98 @checkurwindow @nyxie75 @i-know-i-can @yxseminx @yavin4andor @sugacita @sstrawberry-fanta @youtxbemusic @queenwilty — hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

Beep.

Y/N scrunched up her nose as her eyes fluttered open, the gritty, incessant sound of the machine grating on her nerves — while she was no stranger to the sound of her own heartbeat, she'd never heard it like that. When she finally tried to look around the room, she winced. The sterile-white LED lights lining the ceiling made her eyes burn; as she adjusted to it, slowly waking up, she began to notice the steady click of an IV drip not far from where her head rested.

She didn't move at first, blinking hard as the ceiling was her entire range of vision, but when she tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder, and she cried out, her hand flying up to the spot.

"Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart, lay down, okay? Relax, please. You're gonna hurt yourself."

The beep of the heart rate monitor accelerated in a fleeting moment, and steady, familiar hands came to rest gently on her good shoulder and her upper back, easing her into the crinkly mattress beneath her. She turned with wide eyes to find the last person she expected at her bedside as he propped her head up onto a pillow.

"Thomas?" she asked breathlessly. "Shit, I... What are you doing here? Did you bring me here? I don't..." Her brow furrowed as she eyed his worried expression, the small, scared frown he wore. As she tried to shift in her bed, turn to look at him, she gasped at the throbbing in her upper arm — with that, it didn't take long for her to recall exactly what she was doing there, though the details were hazy. She didn't know what to make of her current circumstance, though.

"Here, d'you want me to raise the back of the bed so you don't needa hold yourself up?" Though she'd screwed her eyes shut, her jaw clenched as she tried to bear the pain, as his hand ghosted down to her forearm, as he brushed his thumb across her skin, he could hear her pulse beginning to settle. She nodded, laying onto her back with a grimace.

A moment passed in silence while she tried to collect her thoughts. She let out a soft hum when the reclined top of the bed began to fold upward, letting her shift into a sitting position, she withdrew her right arm from Thomas's grasp, pulling it back to instead lace her fingers into his. "Better?"

"Mhm." When she again opened her eyes, he'd pulled his chair closer. She frowned. "How are you here? You... We're in public, Thomas; you can't..." She trailed off, but when the concern in his gaze didn't subside in the least, she said, "Did I die? Am I... Is this even real? I don't understand."

Despite everything, at her words, a teasing grin split his grim expression, and he squeezed her hand lightly. "Well, first of all, 'm flattered that you think wakin' up here next to me might actually be heaven—" She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help her soft, endeared smile. "—but no, you're alright, just in the hospital. You're gonna be fine."

"I guess that's a relief," she sighed, pursing her lips. She eyed him with concerned hesitance. "But what are you doing here?"

"What d'you mean, 'what am I doing here?'" he asked incredulously, his voice soft. "Three of my supporters just tried to fucking kill you 'cause they were tryin' to defend my image. Did you think I wasn't gonna come see you? Make sure you're okay? I've been worried sick, Y/N."

"I..." She swallowed the lump building in her throat as she remembered everything that happened, how quickly it'd all gone down. With the way they'd cornered her, she was lucky to have escaped with a bullet in her shoulder. She was lucky to have even made it out alive. "I'm really, really glad you're here," she said with a weak smile, "but we aren't exactly holed up in your penthouse, right now. How do you plan to explain that you came to visit me in the hospital?"

"Well, officially, 'm here to offer my deepest apologies on behalf of myself 'n my campaign and to let you know that I entirely denounce what happened," he said, and as his gaze fell, as he couldn't bear to meet her eyes, she could see the remorse in her demeanor. "Everyone's just gonna think it's damage control, and I get why. Some of that was just an excuse for me comin' to see you. But really... I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened. 'M so, so sorry that people came out 'n tracked you down, tried to murder you in my name. You can't... I can't begin to tell you how much I wish I could go back and do somethin' different to stop this from happenin'. That I didn't spend so much time messin' with you on Twitter. That I woulda—"

"Stop it," Y/N said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. She could see Thomas's eyes welling up, his stare glassy; she could hear his voice beginning to waver. "Stop. You know this wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done to prevent it. You're a good person, okay? I know you. Please, please don't blame yourself."

She squeezed his hand, and he shut his eyes tightly. "Fuck, I don't—" He sniffled loudly, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Don't know why you're comforting me right now. 'M not supposed to be the one who needs it; I don't wanna make this about me. 'M sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You aren't responsible for this, and I don't blame you for it in the least." At her gentle tone, he let out a ragged huff, still not meeting her eyes. She frowned. "Hey, look at me. You didn't do anything to incite this."

"You're too forgivin'," he finally said, lifting his head to meet her gaze. "I don't deserve it."

She scoffed at the words, breaking his gaze to shake her head in exasperation. "Thomas, if you don't deserve to be forgiven, that's because there's nothing to forgive. Please, this isn't your burden."

There was a skip, silence aside from the IV drip and the staticky beep of the heart rate monitor. "That's enough talkin' about me," he finally said. Y/N sighed. His deflecting was overt, but he didn't seem to care. "How are you? I don't just mean your shoulder, either. No one would judge you for bein' rattled after everything that happened."

She shrugged, and he could see the pain in her eyes. "I'm not great, if I'm honest. I was just so scared." She drew in a shaky breath. He took her hand in both of his, pulling his chair closer to her side. "How'd you even find out about this, anyway? Lafayette?"

"Now, why d'you think Lafayette woulda heard about you bein' in the hospital before I did?" He could only feign offense, but the eyebrow he raised was playful. She couldn't stifle her amused smile. "That hurts, sweetheart, really. He matters that much more to you than I do?"

"Shut up; you know that none of my other friends would tell you about this," she groaned, but any exhaustion in her voice was contrived. "Alex and his sister-in-law are my emergency contacts. Which one of them would've ever called you?"

"Alright, alright." Thomas huffed, trying to purse his lips to hide his grin. "James called me. Dolley saw it on the news."

"Oh my god, it's on the news?" Her eyes widened, and Thomas was struck with a pang of guilt as he heard her pulse begin to spike — there wasn't much she could hide when hooked up to a heart rate monitor. "Shit, I– I need to call Mira and Orlando; they've gotta be terrified. And Angelica, holy shit, I'm sure she's heard. What time is it? How long has it been since the story broke?"

"Hey, calm down, okay? They're outside. They know you're gonna be alright," he murmured, rubbing the back of her hand comfortingly, and he sighed as he heard her heartbeat slow. "Everyone's out there. James 'n Dolley came, Lafayette came... Hamilton brought his whole family. I met Angelica, just now."

Her eyebrows shot up, but a laugh was etched into her surprised smile. "Oh, no, tell me you're lying. I can't imagine that went well."

He hummed in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched her enthusiasm begin to grow. "Nah, not so much. Think she woulda throttled me out in the lobby if Mira hadn't stopped her."

Y/N groaned. "Of course Mira's out there defending you. Some priorities."

"Oh, would you rather your friends killed me with their bare hands?" He raised an expectant eyebrow, and when Y/N only shrugged, he scowled.

"Listen, all I'm saying is that if someone shot you in my name and James tried to throttle me for it, I'd understand."

Thomas gave a reluctant hum. "Forgot how much you liked havin' people's hands around your throat. Guess you'd probably enjoy it, huh?"

Her eyes widened as her breath caught, blood rushing to her cheeks. She could feel her skin burning, and somewhere in the background, she was vaguely aware of the rush of her heart rate monitor. "Thomas. Shut up, I swear to god."

He laughed when she tried to shove his hands away, yank her right arm out of his grasp, but when he just squeezed her forearm teasingly, she turned her head. She couldn't meet his gaze with the scowl she wore. "Aw, what's the problem? You only into that when I'm the one doin' it?"

"Thomas." She whipped her head back around to him with a wearing look, appearingly taken aback, but her teeth were sinking hard into her bottom lip. When she saw the mocking pout he wore, a chill ran down her back; her stomach turned.

"Y'know, I'm kinda havin' fun with bein' able to hear your heart rate." When he winked, the corners of his lips turning up into a knowing smile, the heat in the back of her neck flared.

"You're exhausting," she grumbled. He shrugged.

"Mmh, I can see that." When she turned to him with an eyebrow raised, he grinned. "Nothin' to be ashamed of, sweetheart. I know I—"

He was cut off by the click of the door being thrown open, and a nurse rushed into the room, closely followed by the small army of people there to see Y/N. They both pulled abruptly back from one another. Y/N's heart was pounding.

"Y/N! Are you okay? Did something happen?" Eliza asked pushing through to see you with wide, worried eyes. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but when she just gaped at everyone for a moment, Alex immediately cut in.

"Jefferson, I swear to god, if you laid a finger on her, I'll end you. I knew it was a bad idea to let him in here," Alex scowled, glaring at Thomas as he strode toward them, but Y/N's brows shot up.

"Hey, woah, stop it," she said holding up her right hand, a silent request for him to come to a halt. Reluctantly, he did, still eyeing Thomas skeptically. "Nothing happened. I'm okay. Why'd you all come in here like this?"

"Your heart rate was rising, dear. We thought you could've been having a seizure, or a heart attack, or... or something," Dolley said, and Alex glared when she pushed her way in front of him. "How are you? I saw the video online, and oh, Y/N, it was awful. I couldn't bear to see such a thing happening to you."

"Dolley, hey." Y/N wore a soft smile as Dolley came to her bedside, resting a hand on her calf. "I'm okay. Not the best I've ever felt, but it isn't anything I won't be able to sleep off. That, and some painkillers, of course."

Dolley gave her a wry smile. "Let me know if there's anything I can do. I have a neglected bottle of rosé sitting in our pantry and two pints of ice cream in the freezer, so go ahead and pick your poison."

Y/N laughed. "I'll have to see what flavors of ice cream you've got stashed away, but either option is dangerously tempting."

Dolley was about to reply, but when Angelica emerged to her left, she jumped back, startled. "Anyway, why was your heart rate so high? You don't look like you're going into a coma, so what'd he do?" Angelica nodded toward Thomas, the look in her eyes all business and her brow furrowed. Thomas raised an affronted brow.

"Oh, please, Thomas wouldn't hurt a fly." As everyone began to disperse themselves around her bedside, the group who'd come to see her made Y/N's heart warm. She resisted rolling her eyes at the doting smile Mira gave Thomas alongside her words, which he returned gratefully. (Suck up.) However, Mira also turned to Y/N with a hesitant look. "Right, mija?"

Y/N pursed her lips, glancing between Mira and Thomas dubiously, but Thomas looked smug. "Yeah, yeah, he's in the clear," she agreed reluctantly. "My heart rate spiked because I stupidly tried to use both my arms to shift where I was sitting. It didn't feel so great for, y'know, my bullet wound." When she gave a weak smile, there were sighs of relief scattered throughout the group (Thomas's was the most adamant; he hadn't expected her to bail him out quite that easily).

"Well, we are glad to see zat you are alright." Lafayette offered her a soft smile, and when she found him standing directly beside Thomas, she reached out to squeeze the hand he had resting on the rail of her bed. A flicker of dejection passed through Thomas's expression, gone almost the moment it came.

"I'm glad to see all of you here. It was really sweet of you to come," Y/N said, looking around the group. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of James standing just behind Dolley, a small smile resting on his lips. "Aw, James, even you showed up?"

"Of course, Y/N. We on Thomas's campaign have been incredibly concerned."

She rolled her eyes at his formal tone. "Yeah, yeah, talk all you want about your political agenda, but we both know Dolley dragged you along to visit."

"I truly can't help but take offense at that," James said, his brow furrowed, and he shook his head. Regardless, he wore an amused smile. "As though I'm unable to cross partisan lines for an injured acquaintance?"

"Aw, aren't we friends by now?" Y/N asked, plastering on a pout, and James laughed.

"I suppose so." He squeezed Dolley's shoulder, an eyebrow raised, and she shuffled aside, inadvertently crowding into Angelica's space. When James took a step forward, Y/N's eyebrows shot up at the bouquet of flowers he held, the envelope attached to them. "These are for you, on behalf of our entire campaign."

She had to shift in her seat to turn and take them from him in her right hand, but as she did so, she grimaced at the dull pain in her shoulder when she moved it. Thomas's hand shot out to support her before he realized where he was, and he stopped himself short, pulling his hands back into his lap with a wince.

"Thanks so much, James, these are beautiful," Y/N said, inhaling deeply as she held the flowers up to her nose. "Who picked them out?"

"I did." The sound of Thomas's voice among the group surprised her. Her eyebrows were raised when she turned to him, and she struggled to stop her small smile from widening at his words.

"Well then, thank you, Secretary Jefferson. I appreciate the gesture."

"It's the least I could do, Ms. L/N." She pressed her lips together; it was all she could do not to laugh at the formality in his tone. He gave her a sympathetic smile, but as she met his gaze, it was doting. "I'm terribly sorry that this happened. Please, don't hesitate to reach out if there's anything further we can do to support you."

She cocked a brow. "Care to pay my medical bills?"

"Gladly."

"Wait, seriously?" Her eyes widened. "I was joking, but I'm holding you to that."

"As you should," Thomas said reasonably, giving a shrug. "I understand how difficult this has gotta be for you, and for your family, too. We'd like to support you in any way we can."

While his gentle tone made her smile, holding his stare, but Alex scoffed loudly.

"Oh my god, don't fall for that, Y/N," he interjected. Y/N raised a brow. "He's just trying to avoid a lawsuit. Or convince you not to start bitching online about how he almost killed you."

"He didn't almost kill me," she huffed. She glanced back hesitantly at Thomas, and he was watching her with guilt heavy in his expression. "One of his supporters did. It's not the same thing."

"Yeah, they tried to kill you in his name. Why are you giving him a pass?"

"If you shot him in my name, would it be my fault?" She pinned Alex with an expectant stare, and he huffed. "You know it wouldn't, and this is no different. If you're gonna spend the next few minutes attacking him, go wait in the hall until he and James leave. My head already hurts, so I refuse to listen to you picking a fight."

Alex folded his arms. "Why aren't you kicking him out?"

"Because you're the one getting worked up, right now," Y/N said matter-of-factly, but Thomas sighed.

"I understand that you all want me gone. I won't impose," he said, and when he began to push his chair out, Y/N and Mira wore identical, dismayed expressions.

"No, no, you aren't imposing!" Mira insisted. "Please, stay."

"'S alright, Mira. I know when I'm not wanted. I should be goin'," he said, giving her a reassuring smile, but his nervous gaze flickered back to Y/N. "Unless, of course, you've got any more grievances you wanna air? I'd be happy to listen, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Actually," Y/N started, pursing her lips. Thomas's tense demeanor softened as she went on, "I have a few more things I'd like to say before you go. You aren't off the hook just yet." Though her expression was hard, Thomas was struggling not to grin at her not sending him away. Y/N looked back around to her friends and family. "If you'd all give me another minute? I need to get some things off my chest."

While everyone obliged her easily, turning to give her space as they started toward the exit, Dolley and Lafayette shared a knowing look. Y/N's nurse smiled. "I'm glad to see you awake and feeling better. I'll be on call if you need me."

"Thanks so much," Y/N said quietly, and Lafayette caught her eye with a grin.

"We will be back in a few minutes, chérie. Do not do anything rash."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up when he shot Thomas a wink before following everyone else out, and they sat another moment in silence until the door finally fell shut. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, now that everyone's outta here, you gonna rip me a new one?" he asked playfully, and Y/N rolled her eyes, finally letting herself grin as she turned to him, leaning fully back against her bed.

"Don't tempt me," she warned, and he laughed lightly. "But I just wanted another minute with you. If you want to go or have somewhere to be, I'll understand."

"I'm gonna stay as long as you're lookin' to let me," he replied, and when he rested his hand on the bed's rail, she took it in hers.

"I don't know how long I can believably pretend to be yelling at you, but I don't want you to leave just yet. I'm really glad you're here." She swallowed hard, glancing down at where their hands were linked. "I've just... been so distant recently. Is it silly to say I was afraid I was going to die without seeing you first?"

He let out a light, breathy laugh; the look in his eyes was akin to relief. "Jesus, I hope not, 'cause I've been up all night worryin' about the same thing."

Her eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a sheepish smile. "You've been up all night?"

"How was I supposed to sleep?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. He shook his head in disbelief. "You have no idea how scared I was, sweetheart."

"I can imagine," she said with a sigh. "Thank you for coming. I'm sure it wasn't easy to get in here with my friends all ready to bite your head off."

"Mmh, not exactly," he agreed, tone dry, and when she caught sight of his irked expression, she raised an eyebrow. "I didn't get too warm of a welcome."

"How'd you convince them to let you stay here until I woke up, anyway?" she asked, and a lopsided grin split his expression. He shrugged. "Don't tell me you just waltzed in here, and they let you into my room. I know them better than that."

"Lafayette vouched for me."

"Seriously?" Y/N furrowed her brow. "And said what?"

"That it'd be best for you to be able to get everything off your chest before everyone came in to see you." He shrugged, and though Y/N rolled her eyes, his smile was smug. "Guess I'm lucky you're takin' pity on me, huh?"

"Really, Jefferson. I should consider being a little harsher next time. Really making you pay for being thoughtful enough to show up here and comfort me when I'm terribly injured." She bit her lip, eyeing him tentatively. "Hey, can anybody see us right now? Are there any windows or security cameras I'm missing?"

He shook his head, brow furrowed. "Uh-uh. Relax. It's just you and me, alright?"

"Then will you come sit with me?"

His eyebrows shot up when she looked at him hopefully, shifting over on her bed, but it wasn't until a moment later that he answered, his words hesitant. "I dunno, sweetheart. I know you're in a lotta pain, and I don't wanna accidentally hurt you. You should just rest."

"Please?" The look in her eyes was hopeful, and she ran her thumb across his knuckles. "I just... wanna be held. I know you've gotta go soon, but..."

She couldn't finish her sentence, instead just trailing off, watching him with pleading eyes, and he sighed. "God, I hate not bein' able to say no to you. Move over."

Y/N grinned when he stood, delicately propping himself up onto the edge of her bed and swinging his legs up beside hers. His left arm brushed against her right shoulder, and she winced, trying to prop herself up onto the side of his torso. His hands found her waist. "This okay?" he asked softly, shifting her to lay against his chest, and her smile went soft.

"Yeah. This is good." She hummed contentedly when he absentmindedly began tracing patterns into her hip through her hospital gown. "Thanks for being here. Not many people would be willing to fight through my friends just to see me for a few minutes."

"Well, I did have some help," he murmured, his lips just above her ear. "I mean, since you gave Mira the power of attorney and all, she got the final say on who was allowed to come in and see you. You know she's got a soft spot for me."

Y/N giggled. "I guess your whole 'golden boy' act does come in handy once in a while."

When Thomas huffed, she could feel his warm breath tickle the side of her neck. She shivered. "Y'know what, I'm gonna let that one go, but only 'cause you're injured."

"Or because you know I'm right," she teased, craning her neck back to look at him with a wide smile, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Mhm, 'cause I'm secretly a terrible person, huh?"

"Good thing we agree." She pushed herself up to lightly kiss the underside of his jaw. "I just wish you could stay longer. I know you probably have a million things to get done, but I hate that you have to use some bullshit excuse just to come see me."

"So do I," he sighed.

"I just wish we could do... whatever this is in the light of day."

"What if we could?"

"Thomas," Y/N groaned lightly. "It's a nice thought, but you know it isn't possible. You aren't going to drop out of the race for president, and I'm not going to stop covering the campaign. I like my job too much. I don't want to give that up."

"And I'd never ask you to," he assured her, "'S just a nice thought."

"Yeah," she agreed reluctantly, her gaze downcast. A beat passed in silence; they were both too caught up in their own heads to pay attention to the steady click of the IV drip within a foot of them, the buzz of the dying LED lights overhead. Finally, Y/N said, "Is there any chance you can come up with some excuse to come back and visit me tomorrow? I'll have my phone on me, so I can text you when the coast is clear."

"I'd love that," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. He hadn't realized it, but she'd begun to doze off, her eyes fluttering shut as she laid her head against the warmth of his body, the steady feeling of his heartbeat in his chest lulling her to sleep.

"Thank you," she murmured, covering his hand with hers. "I love..." She trailed off when she could feel him inhale sharply, his chest rising against her back, and despite her fatigue, she knew enough to hold her tongue. "Love that you could make it here. Thanks again."

"'S been my pleasure."

She didn't respond, content to just rest in his arms, and his smile was soft as he looked down at her. Several minutes ticked by, and the pair was at peace in the sterile environment, relaxed despite the bullet wound in her shoulder, the danger she'd been in hours before, despite the tension that always hung heavy in their dynamic, unavoidable with the risk they were taking being together.

"Thanks for keeping me around, sweetheart," he whispered, and his words were met only with the heavy sound of her breathing, leveling out as she drifted further and further from consciousness. He swallowed hard. "I love you."

She was too far gone to hear him.

A few more minutes later, the room's door clicked open, and Thomas's eyes widened, realizing the position he was about to be found in. His eyes widened.

"Y/N, is it alright if everyone else—?" Lafayette emerged from the doorway alone, cutting himself with a soft smile when he caught sight of Y/N laid against Thomas's body, perfectly at peace in his embrace. "Ah, Thomas. I am glad to see zat she is being well taken care of," he said softly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Thomas couldn't take it too personally. "Is she... asleep?"

He nodded. "Has been for a few minutes. Think she's been needin' some real rest," he replied, warm gaze drifting down to Y/N's calm, absent face. "Y'know, the kind that doesn't come from faintin' in pain and some anesthetics."

Lafayette chuckled lightly, folding his arms. "I think zat it is for ze best," he said. "But I was sent in 'ere to see whether or not Y/N was done, ah... lecturing you for ze 'arms done. I am not sure I 'ave any way to tell everyone zat she is still busy in 'ere."

"Sounds like it's time for me to head out, then, huh?" Lafayette nodded, and Thomas looked down with a reluctant smile. "Alright, gimme a minute. Send everyone in when I get out of here, yeah?"

"Of course." Lafayette departed without another word, appearing to be rather pleased with the scene before him. Thomas sighed, trying to shift Y/N off of himself without rattling her, and when he gently laid her shoulders back down onto the mattress, her head resting to one side on the pillow, he leaned down to kiss her forehead softly.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow, okay?" he whispered, disregarding entirely the fact that she didn't hear a word of it. He finally lifted himself off of the side of the bed. "Goodnight, Y/N."

His footsteps stalled another moment as he stood beside her; his tender gaze swept down the entirety of her stature, but it was clouded with remorse when he once again glanced to the bloodied bandage wrapped around her shoulder. He swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat.

He turned off the lights on his way out.

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Traumtänzer (Pt. 10)

Rated T

Part 9

Part 11

You followed the little girl up to an old building where she then disappeared. As Sam went in to talk to Karli, the blonde one - John, you remembered - handcuffed Helmut to a pipe.

“Was that really necessary?” You asked with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

“You’re next if you don’t watch it,” he growled at you, but Helmut laughed before you could reply.

“I’d like to see you try,” he taunted John, and you had a feeling you didn’t want to taunt this man. He was aggressive and unpredictable. A wild card, much like yourself. He eyed you up, trying to figure out what made you so special.

“You don’t even know me, why are you so… you know,” you looked to Helmut for help, eyes pleading as you lost the word you were thinking of.

“Aggressive?” He suggested and you nodded, looking back at John.

“Why are you so aggressive towards me?” You put one hand on your hip and watched him pace like a caged animal.

“I don’t know you, and more importantly, I don’t trust you. You’re Sokovian, for all I know you’re on his side,” he pointed towards Helmut and you rolled your eyes.

“And I also live in Germany, do you think I’m a Nazi? You can’t just assume things based on people’s ethnicity or nationality,” you snapped back at him.

“Fine, but I still don’t know anything about you,” he frowned, looking towards where Sam had gone off to. You quickly decided to try and distract him.

“Well, what would you like to know?” You asked with a smile, but he didn’t take the bait. He started whispering to himself, you were worried he’d gone off the deep end.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight,” James didn’t even look up, his bored gaze centered on a spot on the ground.

You were sure things were about to get ugly. Sure enough, they did and John stormed past James with him and Lemar following. You were left alone with the Baron.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked him with a smirk.

“You’re the mind reader, liebling , not I,” he raised his eyebrows when you took his cuffed hand in your own. Within seconds you felt the pull in your gut and you’d teleported the two of you four feet away from where he’d been cuffed a moment ago. He looked down at his wrist, now free, and back up at you.

“You’ll never cease to amaze me,” he breathed the words and grabbed your hand before running into the building.

“Where are we going?” You panted as you ran up staircases.

“To find Karli,” Helmut replied, and you blanched. It didn’t take you long to find her. Helmut saw her first and you ducked behind a wall out of sight as he shot at her with a gun you didn’t know he had. You followed Helmut quietly once Karli was down and watched as he started crushing the vials of super soldier serum. But you weren’t focused on him. You had locked eyes with Karli.

“ Maus? ” She gasped, betrayal on her face. You weren’t sure why you felt shameful, but you felt your cheeks burning. You understood her, truly. You understood her motives, her anger, you understood her methods. You knew her. Suddenly, you could peer into her thoughts like you had with Helmut.

That’s the last of the serum.

What is Maus doing with Zemo?

Is that Captain America?

At that you stopped paying attention to her, even though you knew she ran off you had bigger problems. You shielded Zemo with your own body, yet again, when John threw the shield at his head. It all happened in slow motion. Helmut was confused when you jumped in front of him, and shocked when he turned his head to see John, and then everything went black.

You awoke back in the safehouse with a pounding headache and a cool cloth over your eyes.

You groaned as you attempted to sit up, but a hand on your shoulder kept you down.

“I read her mind,” you whispered. “That was the last of the serum.”

“Good,” Helmut’s voice was quiet. “How did you read her mind?”

“Have you ever read ‘Ender’s Game’?” You asked.

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“It’s a science fiction novel. And I never understood this part, but I think I do now. He said ‘ In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it's impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves.’” You sighed. “I truly understand her motives and methods, even if I don’t agree with them. And I understand her position in the world, much like my own, but I was luckier. And when I met her in her dream, I understood her on a very basic level. One refugee to another. But when I met her for the first time, just now… I hated her. But in order to hate you have to love. And in order to love you have to understand. I understood her, and so her mind was open to me.”

“Do you think this will allow you to read others’ minds in the future? How can it be so if you have to truly understand them?” Helmut pondered, and you removed the cloth from your eyes to look at him. His hair was askew and his clothes were rumpled. You might assume that he’d been by your side this whole time.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and closed your eyes, the bright lights causing pain. “Let me try something,” you murmured. You thought about Sam. His sister, Sarah. His veteran status and work as a counselor. He just wanted to help you, and he’d only ever been polite to you. He was trying to do the best he could as a black man in America, and he felt like he kept failing. He felt like an impostor.

I wonder if Maus is awake.

What are they doing in there?

Is there something going on between Maus and Zemo?

Where is Bucky going?

“ James is about to come in through the door, I read Sam’s mind, though it is an awfully complicated thing.” You spoke quietly, and not long after, the door opened and James walked in.

“You awake?” He came closer and Helmut backed up, heading to the bar.

“Unfortunately,” you deadpanned.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked you, and you quickly decided lying was your best bet.

“I’ve got the serum. If he hit me it might knock me out. If he hit him,” you nodded your head towards Helmut. “He might not have woken up.” James accepted your answer with a short nod and sat on a chair near you.

He abruptly stood when the doors burst open. It seemed like John wanted to take Helmut, but he also seemed like he wanted a fight, you stayed laying on the couch and watched as they conversed tensely. Helmut took a sip of his drink and Bucky stood by. Not a moment later, a spear shot through the wall and nearly impaled John. He tried to converse with the scary women, and you looked around the room. Helmut was nowhere to be seen. Probably good since these women wanted to take him.

James and Sam glanced over at you and you did your best Cheshire Cat impression, giving them a wicked smile and a dainty wave before teleporting out of there and to the streets below.

“ You didn’t think you would be getting away without me, did you?” You put both hands on your hips as Helmut emerged from the darkness. He greeted you with a dark smile and held his hand out.

“ Well, are you coming?”

Masterlist

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x you #zemo x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson #karli morgenthau #tfatws

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topherfoxtrot · 3 years

Text

One night stand with Corporal Ford.

Did anyone ask for a corporal Ford smut? Well no but I was feeling like it so here we go. Reader is gender neutral as usual and this is a smut so TW for sex, obviously. Feel free to join me if so you please...

In a small french village a group of soldiers from the US fought against the german nazis. The conflict took about 45 hours and even though the war was not over yet, when the german troops retreated everyone went out to celebrate. French citizens and unitedstater soldiers. Among those soldiers was corporal Ford. His hair was longer than the rest and he was the most quiet among the soldiers, speaking only when necessary.

From your window you saw him shooting nazis and ordering the other soldiers around. The townspeople called you because you were the only person to speak English. You translated a lot of conversations between Ford and father Delor, the local priest who also happened to be the leader of the resistence. You surely felt Ford was attractive during these conversations, but you simply had too much in mind to give it a second thought. Now that the conflict was gone though the thought of making a move on him started to pop on your mind.

Ford was talking to some elderly women next to the huge table full os all sorts of food the villagers arranged on the street. You were there to translate, as usual. At some point Ford talked to you even though he kept looking at the old ladies.

"Can you please take me out of here?"

"Sorry?" The question caught you off guard. The women exchanged looks trying to comprehend.

"I've eaten enough bread and pudding for a lifetime already. Besides those two madams here are annoying the hell out of me!" He politely smiled at them.

You laughed because of his request. But suddenly your mind clicked: that was the perfect opportunity to take Ford out of there. You quickly told the old ladies that the corporal needed to rest and grabbed him by the arm. He followed you without question.

"What did you tell them?" Ford asked.

"That you needed to rest. Do you?" You asked politely. He has taken a nap at your house last night but he hasn't fully slept since he got there.

"That would be nice."

"Alright I'm preparing you a bath. Would that be okay?"

"It would be perfect, actually! Thanks."

"No need to. I'm just treating my guest accordingly." You looked at him with suggestive eyes. He seemed to catch the cue because he looked back at you with those hunter eyes that made you melt.

You left the corporal downstairs while you prepared the wooden bathtub. You felt electricity run through your fingers as you got everything ready. You wondered if Ford was anticipating this as much as you were.

When everything was ready you called him. You both went upstairs in silence. You showed him the bathroom and the wooden bathtub now full of water.

"Here it is." You said awkwardly, "Make yourself at home."

You walked towards the door quickly, but Ford's whisper made you freeze in position.

"Stop."

Your turned around to look at him. He didn't say anything, just looked into your eyes as he started to take his clothes off. The military uniform was heavy and full of parts yet he took his time with each one of them. A part of you wanted to ask if he needed help with that, but you stayed put. It was good to see him doing it himself.

You first saw his neck which was no surprise. Then you saw his arms. His jacket hit the ground near him. Ford's shoulders were white because of the absent of sunlight. His collarbones were partially visible under his tank top. He took off the shirt revealing his chest and belly. There were some hair on his chest but it was so light you could actually miss it. On his side you could see some bruises caused by the war. Your first instinct was to run to him and massage them, but you still stayed put. The show wasn't over yet.

Corporal Ford untied his big boots and took them off effortlessly. Then he undid his belt and lowered his pants just enough so it could fall on its own. His thighs were also more white than they should be. You wondered how long it has been since he even got fully naked. But you liked it, in a way. It gave everything a secrecy undertone that made you feel electricity on your fingers again. Stronger this time.

He took off his socks and put them inside the boots as he was taught to do. That felt so intimate. Yet you were there, invited by him to witness his absolute intimacy.

Lastly Ford took off his underwear. His dick was partially hard but he didn't seemed bothered by it at all. You two locked eyes again.

"Your turn." He whispered, as an order.

That made your mouth go dry. You bit your lip without realizing it and also took off all of your clothing. He watched you in silence. His eyes devouring each inch of your gradually exposed body. Once you were both completely naked he entered the bathtub. You entered right after him. The bathtub didn't have enough space you both had to stay real close.

You kept looking into each other's eyes. Ford grabbed your legs slightly. His hands moved up to your knees. While he caressed your legs, you grabbed the sponge and moved it through his shoulders. Ford closed his eyes focusing on the hot water and on your hands. His fingers crossed your knees and touched your thighs. As he grabbed them slightly you got closer. He touched your neck with his beard which made your whole body shiver.

He kissed your neck softly. Then he kissed your chin and finally your lips. With each kiss you felt your body opening up to receive him. His tongue entered your mouth with kindness. Ford reached your waist and pulled you closer. Your hands traveled around his shoulders and back. The kissing became more intense. You put your hands on the water and grab his now hard dick. Even while kissing you can feel Ford smile, and that's what indicates you should keep going. You kept jerking him off while he kissed you and caressed your body.

Suddenly he grabbed your ankles and pulled them so you could almost lay down. He got on top of you. Water fell of the bathtub but none of you cared. He kissed you one more time before whispering:

"Can I...?"

You took a deep breath and pressed your lips before answering.

"Yes."

And so he did. Corporal Ford traced you body with his hands in order to find the best position to penetrate you. You felt his dick touch your skin slowly. You started to breath heavily in anticipation but he remained calm. His dick entered you with the same calm attitude. He knew he had you. For that night you were fully his.

With your whole arms you hugged Ford and brought him closer. More water fell across the bathroom. While getting in and out of you in a slow pace he softly kissed your face. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, your ears. You started to moan quietly and so did he. Now both of you were breathing heavily.

Ford started to fasten the pace. you curled your feet in pleasure and your moans became increasingly louder. You could feel his heavy breathing in your ear. You whispered his name and he whispered yours. Listening to his voice, feeling his beard on your neck and his dick inside of you. All of this made you cum.

You pressed your legs against Ford as he cummed inside of you. His body started to tremble as he moaned one last time, louder than ever. He hugged you tight and kept his dick inside of you still hard. You closed your eyes wide shut allowing yourself to focus on all the sensations he was making you feel.

Eventually both of you caught your breaths. He sat on the water giving you as room as he could in the small wooden bathtub. You locked eyes one more time but he smiled this time. You smiled back.

"We need to take a proper shower now." He said, and you agreed.

After the shower you slept in the same bed. Corporal Ford left the next day. You never saw each other again.

#corporal ford #corporal lewis ford #overlord 2018 #wyatt Russell #smut #FoxtrotFanfic

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joezworld · 3 years

Note

What is the status of vehicle rights in places like China or Russia, with rather patchy (at best) human rights records? What was it like in the USSR, Nazi Germany, or the Empire of Japan? And did Mussolini ever get his locomotives to run completely on time?

Strangely enough, it was a lot better in those countries for at least a while.

To start, check out this post that goes into a little detail.

So, this post is going to not mention the United States or Canada - I’ve done posts on them before.

Interestingly, three of the greatest proponents of locomotive rights in Europe came from people with some of the worst human rights records in modern history: Hitler, Stalin, and King Leopold II.

Belgium has a long history of locomotive rights, stretching back to within 20 years of the introduction of the railway in the country. During the first days of the reign of Leopold II, the king declared that locomotives and other railway equipment were to be considered “on the same level as any Belgian citizen”. Official government histories say that this was because of the king’s desire not allow slavery to happen on Belgian soil, but the existence of the very inappropriately named Congo Free State puts this answer in a very bad light. The generally accepted unofficial answer is much, much funnier - Leopold II was born after the first railways were laid in the country, and as the future king, he was kept well appraised of any new technologies in the country. He also had many, many, many, mistresses. In case you can’t tell where this is going, it is entirely likely that several of his more private extramarital affairs were with locomotives owned by the Belgian state rail company. Locomotives were at the time viewed as little more than beasts of burden, and while Leopold was more than willing to commit heinous atrocities upon the Africans, he was not about to stand here in his own country and get called an enjoyer of bestiality - so he made locomotives people in order to get ahead of his critics should an affair be made public. This had the interesting side effect of making Belgium one of the more progressive countries in Europe as far as locomotive rights went, and Belgian locomotives were very dedicated citizens often serving in civil and military leadership positions around the country. During the first world war, Belgian locomotives actively resisted the Germans for the entirety of the invasion, and a not-insignificant percentage of German locomotives brought in to manage the chaos were brought over to the Belgian side by promises of citizenship.

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This did not go unnoticed by other, much worse European leaders such as Adolf Hitler, who understood the value of a functioning rail network as far as war logistics went, and made significant strides in offering French/Dutch/Polish/Russian/Norwegian/Italian/Etc. engines Nazi citizenship if they served the Reich. Unfortunately for Hitler, Nazis are terrible people who lead out fear, and many of the locomotives who did sign up for this did so because they wanted to Not Die, not because they supported the cause. As a result, large portions of the Reichsbahn rolling stock fleet just ran away or defected as soon as the Allies started getting near, causing serious supply issues that hastened the downfall of the German war effort.

Also, because I know someone is going to ask about it, yes, those trains still ran. Please don’t ask me to elaborate beyond what’s here.

Because locomotives would see what was going on and objected, the Reichsbahn very quickly began staffing those trains with engines that were True Believers, or (even worse) Jewish engines. (Those usually made one way trips, and it’s just as bad as you might think.)

Following the war, many locomotives who had been cleared of any collaboration charges still possessed their Nazi-Era citizenship, and tried to get them turned into citizenship of their home countries. Most places said no (except Belgium) and were promptly glared at by the American service-engines who were rebuilding their countries from the ground up, and then agreed.

The impact on European Locomotive Rights by the Americans cannot be understated. Most European governments were totally prepared to resume the status quo if it wasn’t for the Americans rolling around with their US Citizen status on full display. This is also another reason why England is such a laggard in Locomotive Rights - the country was not as heavily destroyed as continental Europe, and was able to rebuild itself without US "interference".

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Stalin also was a firm believer in Locomotive Rights, for many of the same reasons as Hitler was - locomotives have the ability to bring your country to a halt, so you’d better have them on your side. He’d made attempts to make locomotives citizens before the war, but the Soviet efforts really came into their own during the 1950s - Stalin’s purges had removed a lot of humans from existence, and most locomotives at that point had been built by the USSR in the USSR, and therefore had no concept of ‘Disloyalty to The State", so they were natural fits for many roles within the Soviet government. At one point in 1982, the USSR’s Ministry of Transport was staffed only by vehicles, with no humans present whatsoever. The total integration of vehicles into the USSR reached its zenith in the late 70s, when new buildings were required to have elevators capable of lifting locomotives and other extremely heavy vehicles to at least the third floor - this requirement has remained even to this day, and most eastern European residential structures have the structural strength of a nuclear bomb shelter as a result.

It should be pointed out that while the USSR might have treated locomotives well, it was still an authoritarian dystopia, and nothing here is an endorsement for the country or its actions/politics.

Following the dissolution of the USSR, the hypercapitalist state of the former Eastern Bloc meant that anything and everything was up for sale, including people and machines. One enterprising locomotive used his newfound wealth to create a formidable trade union/gang that covers most of the former USSR to this day. This organization is the primary driver of locomotive rights laws in the former Soviet Bloc, but it should be noted that a lot of the pushback against locomotive rights comes from politicians trying to shut them down specifically.

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Japan is... weird. Locomotives have been fully adopted into their society for generations, and there was no loss or gain of rights during the Second World War, as they were already in place. Let me explain why:

Due to Japan's Shinto influence, locomotives were considered to be basically human from their inception on the island - the first law specifically related to locomotives in the world was an edict issued by the Emperor in regards to the three locomotives imported by English and European engineers for use on the upcoming Shimbashi-Yokohama railway - they were to be given the same rights as those locomotives built domestically. Since then, most Japanese laws have included locomotives by default, often making no mention of them unless specifically including them because of physical differences. [For example, locomotives are not required to partake in mandatory military service, as their service to the railways is often more valuable, especially during peacetime.] However, while locomotives in the West were free to work as they pleased, even off of the rail network, Japanese trains do so in remarkably smaller numbers, with over 98% of locomotives remaining in railway service until their retirement. Those that do not do so typically enter railway-related fields like locomotive construction, upper management in railway companies, or working in the Japanese Ministry of Transport.

In this sense, locomotives in Japan can be considered to be less free than their western colleagues, as the nation culture of "work until you die" meant that no attempt was made to allow trains to enter human society, forcing them to essentially be segregated from humans when not directly pulling trains, as land is too scarce to use for western-style 'locomotive cities' except in extremely rural areas and Nagasaki*.

*Following the atomic bombing of the city in 1945, Nagasaki was rebuilt by the American occupying forces - many of whom were USRA locomotives. The city’s bombed-out industrial areas were already layered with train tracks, making it easy to create a locomotive sized living area. Hiroshima, which suffered damage to its human-oriented urban core, was not rebuilt with trains in mind.

As such, locomotives are considered full Japanese citizens, but most Japanese humans have never interacted with them. Exceptions do exist, mostly in rural towns and villages, where a locomotive is usually considered to be the town's 'honored elder', as most locomotives on small branches have lived in the area for many decades, making them the oldest member of the town in many cases. This has lead to many culture clashes in larger cities, where residents may be apathetic to the desires their locomotive neighbors, much to the dismay and shock of a 'country bumpkin' who lives nearby.

Of particular issue to locomotive freedoms are multiple units. Since the 1960s, Japanese railways have put more focus into EMUs/DMUs rather than standard locomotive hauled trains. This has caused even more segregation amongst Japan's rail population, as permanently coupled multiple units cannot access the few existing locomotive/human developments, as they were designed for standalone locomotives. Urban sprawl and high land prices have made enlarging these developments is impossible. To date, the only MU focused 'loco-city' (other than one-track sheds in rural farming communities) is in the Fukushima Daiichi exclusion area. However, as the line accessing it is in the traditional Japanese 3'6" gauge, the community remains inaccessible to the 4'8.5" gauge Shinkansen trains, many of whom are almost totally isolated from anyone else - despite living in Japan's largest cities - as a result of their loading gauge restrictions.

Similar social isolation occurs to ships and aircraft, but as they are able to receive emotional support from friends and relatives across the planet, they do not suffer from this isolation nearly as much.

-------

At no point in Italian history has anyone been able to make the right decision in regards to locomotive rights. This is not to say that Locomotive rights (and vehicular rights in general) don’t exist in Italy - they do, rather thoroughly - but rather, the Italians have never once done so intentionally, instead implementing locomotive rights by having multiple laws, written on multiple occasions over multiple decades, that are so badly written that a train could and likely was driven through the loopholes that exist in them!

#ask response #long #locomotive rights headcanon #sentient vehicle headcanon #sentient trains #sentient vehicles #italy #japan #ussr #ww2 #belgium

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years

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Why do you think Tomarry would work? I see a lot of people hating on it and the only response I ever see is that they come from similar backgrounds or people just like enemies to lovers. Also which horcrux do you think Harry would go best with (including Voldemort)

So, this is probably a more complicated question than you intended, but that’s because I live in bizarre head canon lands that few ever dare venture towards.

With that, let’s get started.

But What Do You Really Ship, Muffin?

First, it probably bears saying that I’m not really a Tomarry shipper. I know, I’ve written more than one Tomarry story, so if that’s not Tomarry what is? Well, remember that those Tomarry pairing tags are a filthy lie. October I committed the grievous sin of breaking up the Tomarry and throwing Tom at Harry’s mother. Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus is barely a Harry Potter fic in any capacity, and while the ship is the driving force of the fic, it’s also this nebulous, distant, thing that really shows up only in strange side stories where I try to make people laugh. When Harry Met Tom is probably the closest that I take seriously, but I also intentionally subvert all your typical Tomarry tropes for my own enjoyment.

The only Tomarry story I’d say I’ve ever actually written is “The Burning Taste of Fire Whisky”. It’s a very popular story, sadly perhaps my most popular on Ao3, but I actually loathe it entirely.

A lot of the time I feel like I just happen to have a Tomarry shirt on and then I suddenly became a subject matter expert. If you want the Tomarry opinions from real Tomarry people, I’m probably not the best person to ask. In fact, if you want really any standard answer about Harry Potter anything, I’m not the best person to ask.

Now, I’m not just saying this to be a hipster but to sort of give some background for why I’m going to give the answer I’m going to give and why it’s going to be 100% different from everyone else’s and yes, sometimes, I do think I came from Mars.

Will the Real Tomarry Please Stand Up?

So with that, the bottom line is: taking canon as JKR intended, completely at face value, Tomarry doesn’t work at all. This is because JKR fully intends a very flat, one-dimensional, and frankly quite boring Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle’s evil, Tom Riddle was born evil, Tom Riddle was evil in the womb because of rape. He is completely and utterly irredeemable and understands nothing of love.

Well, that sort of sinks the ship right out of the harbor, doesn’t it? A Tom Riddle incapable of love is one incapable of growth, especially in a romantic focused story. If you try to write it you just get weird sociopathic whump porn where Tom probably whips Harry in a closet somewhere.

Added onto this we get that, despite what she put down on paper, Harry is supposed to be a straight man. That aside, he’s also a righteous man whose understanding of things like love and friendship mean he’d never sully himself with gross Tom Riddle. Ew, what are you people thinking?

Well, what if we take canon just mostly as JKR intended? What if we just look at the characters the way she actually wrote them versus what she was trying to do? Still no dice.

Tom might now be capable of love, be a far more engaging character who can go somewhere, and be pulled out of a pit of rage and despair by someone but that someone ain’t Harry.

First, while I firmly believe Harry is gay (gay, not bisexual, compare his descriptions of Cho/Ginny to Tom Riddle/Sirius Balck/Cedric Diggory/Charlie Weasley, that boy pants after Tom Riddle and Cho’s kiss is “wet”) he’s also a much worse person and much dumber character than JKR intended. It’s really the first that damns the pairing.

I have a whole giant post on how Harry’s a little yikes but the long and short of it is that while Harry thinks he understands friendship and love he’s also someone who will cut out his friends at a moment’s notice if he feels remotely slighted, uses and sacrifices them for his own ends, gleefully uses unforgiveable curses when given the opportunity, and is the kind of guy who would cut someone up in the bathroom, leave them to bleed to death, and only really feel bad about it when it seems he might get in trouble for it.

This Harry ending up even with a Tom who could potentially be redeemed would more likely lead to, well, weird psychopathic whump porn where Harry tortures Tom in his basement to make him pay for all the horrible things he’s done while Harry claims he’s the most moral person ever because his mother loved him.

So, yeah, no Tomarry for you.

But Wait, Didn’t You Say You Believed in Tomarry?

What I believe in are archetypes.

Remove what Harry’s supposed to be, remove what I think he actually is (one maladjusted, violent, dude with a whole lot of anger issues), let’s make Harry what perhaps JKR didn’t even know she wanted: one of those rare fundamentally good heroes who warps an entire story with the strength of their inner nobility.

Harry Potter is meant to be a story about love and friendship. Now, it’s not actually, and we sort of end with Harry being Jesus and none of us are sure why. Except that he apparently forgives Dumbledore and Snape for brainwashing him to be a kamikaze agent. They’re the bravest men he knows. But let’s pretend it actually is a story about love and friendship.

To me, the strongest story of love we could possibly have had in this world is the redemption of Tom Riddle. Here is a man who was supposed to have been irredeemable since birth, he has done many horrific and unforgiveable things, grew up in extreme hardship in a society that spits on everything he ever was, and is mired in bitterness, despair, and rage. Beneath all that, Tom Riddle has given up hope in the world and is now content to burn it down himself.

Harry, through the nobility of his spirit and integrity of his character, somehow managing to redeem Tom Riddle is not only a fascinating story but a very good one at its core. The fact that they are tied together by destiny as well as tragedy, that Harry houses a shard of Tom’s soul (and I do so love horcruxes), only makes it more so.

This is the kind of story that carries epics, and that is why I gravitate towards it.

Now, do I change Harry up to do so? Good god, yes. I wouldn’t say any Harry Potter I have written is anything close to the Harry we know from canon. Some are closer than others, but they always in some way deviate. That said, from what I’ve seen almost nobody writes the actual Harry we remember from canon, so this is a very standard practice I can get away with, without too many people calling foul.

Ultimately ending in tragedy or in the full redemption of Tom: either works with these base characterizations and the world is your oyster.

What About All Those Other Arguments?

I’m not going to get into this too much except that I wouldn’t argue Tomarry works for the reasons you list. At all.

On the similar backgrounds, the fact is Harry and Tom don’t have similar backgrounds, JKR just says they do because she likes that trope (and so do many of the readers).

Harry and Tom have dark hair, they both came from abusive homes, but that’s where the similarities start and end. Upon entering the wizarding world Harry is treated very very very differently from Tom Riddle.

Harry, grows up in this weird sort of pseudo poverty where he dresses in rags because the Dursley’s hate him but he never actually has to worry about money. When he gets to the wizarding world he can afford everything he wants. He can buy a new wand, he can buy new supplies, he can buy all the candy off the trolly cart. Money’s not an object to Harry, is barely even a concept.

Tom Riddle is presumably on scholarship and money is everything to him. He buys a new wand but likely all his clothes and books are second hand. He can’t buy whatever candy he wants, probably can’t afford gifts for his peers, Tom is very aware of the haves and have nots.

Harry similarly never has to worry about a career. He never gets that far, fearing for his life so much, but the fact is that Harry has enough money that he doesn’t actually need to work. More, who would turn down the great Harry Potter? He wants to be an auror, is afraid he might not qualify, but it’s not really desperate.

Tom Riddle is to the world an impoverished muggle born. He tries for the Defense position and is turned down mostly because Dumbledore threw shade. Dumbledore tries to make it seem like Tom desperately wanted to work in this weird shop in London’s magical back alley, but probably that was the only position Tom could get (everything Dumbledore ever says, especially in those pensieve lessons, must be taken with a large grain of salt). Everything else goes to friends, family, and purebloods.

Adding to this, Harry has this glowing reputation. Now, Harry might not like it, he might want to be just Harry but the fact is that everyone has heard of him and most people worship the ground he walks on. Doors are open to him everywhere. His first introduction to the wizarding world is from a man who loves him and gushes about Harry as a baby.

Tom Riddle is someone with a muggle last name, who comes from a muggle orphanage, in other words he is nobody from nowhere. (For reasons I won’t get into here I find it very doubtful Tom ever revealed he was the heir of Slytherin until he became Voldemort and let Tom Riddle fade into obscurity). His first introduction to the wizarding world is some asshole lighting all his stuff on fire because the matron talked shit about him.

Harry wants to stay at Hogwarts because the Dursleys are abusive. Yes, this is terrible, but Tom wants to stay because Nazis are bombing London and Dippet says, “So sorry, Tom, no exceptions. Enjoy those luffas!” Harry’s concerns are never treated with the same disdain.

To make a long story short, they do not have similar backgrounds, at all. To say they do is utterly laughable and not much better than saying “they both have dark hair, they have so much in common!”

They both came from abusive homes, yes, but even the nature of those homes were very different and when they went to Hogwarts they were worlds apart.

... So much for not getting into it, eh?

As for Enemies to Lovers, well, it’s a trope and people enjoy it but it’s not my jam. I could go into why, but I think I’ve said enough.

Which Horcrux Do You Think Harry Would Go Best With?

We see so little of the individual horcruxes I’m not sure I can really take a stab at this. I sort of just make up their personalities as it suits me every time I write them.

With that I suppose I’m partial to the one in Harry’s head? Given that he has a front row seat to Harry, has seen Voldemort’s tragic demise, I think he’s in the best position to end up with Harry in a meaningful manner.

Especially as, if you think about it, he could represent the very last of Tom Riddle’s humanity. The single shard of humanity that remained in him until the bitter end.

#ask #anon #tom riddle #harry potter #headcanons #tomarry #archetypes #redemption #enemies to lovers

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arianalilyblack · 4 years

Text

Come home to me - Chapter 4

Title: Come home to me

Chapter no: Chapter 4

Author: @arianalilyblack

Pairing: Harry Wells x Reader x Eobard Thawne/Harrison Wells

Word count: 2269

Summary: The wedding of Barry Allen and Iris West is finally here. You and Harry are caught up with the wedding spirit and start to slowly realize that maybe you developed deeper feelings for each other. Everything is perfect until Nazis bust into the church ruining everything. And alongside Earth X villains guess who shows up? Your ex flame, Eobard Thawne aka the Reverse Flash, complicating everything in your lives.

At first he felt pleasure as he heard a frustrated Cisco shouting in the next cell. It was fun for a while. But then his thoughts started to drift towards Y/N, and the smug grin disappeared from his face. He cursed himself for leaving her unprotected and alone. Obviously he knew that she could protect herself, but he still felt guilty as hell. He never should have left her side, not before telling her the truth. It was frustrating that he couldn’t talk about his newly experienced feelings for her. That smile at the wedding; that was the moment when all his oppressed feelings got out of their strongly locked cage. It was a simple friendly smile, but to him it shone brighter than the sun. It made his heart beat faster, and now he will never see her again. It all ended before it could really start.

The ball resonated louder and louder throughout the Pipeline, as he became more irritated by this imprisoned state, driving Cisco crazy with every bang. Sadness took a hold on his heart. He placed his head into his hands, horrible pictures flashing before his eyes. The sight of her getting tortured or her dead body lying on the floor was maddening. The ball stopped, hitting him right in the chest.

„For the love of God, finally!” exclaimed Cisco. „Have you calmed down, Harry?”

„Shut up, Ramon” Harry sputtered. He had trouble breathing, tears stung his eyes.

„Harry, are you alright?” asked Cisco, sensing that something was off with the grumpy scientist.

„Peachy” was the short sarcastic answer.

„Don’t worry Harry. She will be fine” Caitlin encouraged him.

„Oooh, so that’s the reason why my head is splitting into million pieces” draw the conclusion the engineer. „Mister Know-it-all finally saw the light” Cisco teased him.

„Ramon!” Harry growled.

„Harry, my friend, don’t you fear for Y/N, she’s tough as a nut.” Cisco tried to raise his hopes up.

„Attention all prisoners; great news, the cavalry has arrived.”

The Legends got the message from Felicity and came to the rescue. All the prisoners were out in no time; almost all of them went to fight with Nate against Metallo, except Harry. He had better things to do. He sprinted towards the workshop, to obtain a weapon prototype he and Cisco developed for similar situation. Right before he could reach the gun, Eobard cut his way.

„Well” Harry caught his breath. „Aren’t you a handsome devil?”

„Pretty popular with the ladies, huh?” Eobard smirked implying his hypothetical relationship with Y/N. Harry was smarter then to give into this pointless mind game. „Wells, you are in real danger now. But I’m going to make you a deal.” His smile grew wider with his every word. „I can spare your life, as a man of your superior intellect has a place in our new world. Of course, with one condition” he raised his index finger. „You have to give up on Y/N. You are a clever man; you already know that she feels what she does for you just because you look just like me. You are constantly reminding her of me and that’s the only thing why she would ever look at you. Her place is by my side. I’m the only one who can satisfy her needs. She has quite a temper, that little minx. She still loves me” His devilish smile was all over his face. It disgusted Harry to the core.

„Thank you… for the offer and information.” Harry nodded in appreciation before he looked up sternly and added „I’d rather die, than to let your liar ass torture her for the rest of her life.”

„Well that…” The speedster’s smile turned into a frown and his hand started vibrating. „That can be arranged.”

„Wait, wait!” Harry raised his arms in defense as the vibrating hand got dangerously close to his heart. „Wait. Think this through. If you kill me, she will never forgive you for that, ever. She will hate you more than she already does. And besides, who knows what consequences could cause the death of your doppelganger from another Earth.”

„You’re right.” He paused. „But there’s only one way to find out” he shook his head as he contemplated his action and advanced his weaponized hand towards Harry’s chest. But instead of coursing through his heart he was shocked by something, hand bouncing back in an instant.

„Yeah, so, I forgot to mention” Harry pointed arrogantly to his chest. „I went and loaded millions of biocompatible miniature robots into my body which were programmed to attack any foreign cells speeding into my system. Just face it, Thawne; you will never get her back.”

Eobard looked anxiously to the gun, then back to Harry’s face. He could easily outrun his shadow, but then he would complicate his mission. Harry winked at the evil speedster, lips curling into a cocky smile, and jumped towards the gun, but he was to slow, Eobard had already vanished.

You were dragged away from the girls. You had no metapower left whatsoever to fight back, so you complied. Meanwhile the energy slowly started to rebuild in your system; it just needed some time to fully regenerate. You made a fool of yourself yet again, by thinking Eobard had changed. It was naïve of you to trust his words, because obviously you did believe him when he’d told you that he just wanted to come home to you. Once again you were fooled by his silver tongue, and once again he had thrown you away, like some liability.

„So how does this Nazi job paying you? Is it really worth it?” you asked, teasing the soldier beside you with a small smile, trying to cheer yourself up. No response, no reaction of any kind. „Let me go, little soldier. I promise I won’t rattle you out to the Fuhrer” you flashed your most convincing grin, but all in vain.

The muscles in your body were sore, but you figured that you could still beat the crap out of this disrespectful bastard. A loud bang came from the Cortex that was followed immediately by two another. This was your chance; you pulled your arm out of his grip and kicked him in the guts with all you physical strength. Your hands immediately clasped into his head and banged it against the wall as hard as you could manage. It did the trick so you were able to run away. You just took the right turn when you stumbled into a hard chest. Your body bounced back into a fighting position, just before you met the most beautiful ocean blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

„Y/N” Harry gasped before taking her into his arms. „I thought I’ve lost you.” He pulled you closer to his chest.

„Harry” you whispered his name taken aback by his heartfelt greeting.

It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your body, but at the same time a bitter sorrow filled it. You didn’t muster to look up to his face. Right now it would have been too haunting. Instead you stayed in his protective embrace, hiding your face from him. His body suddenly tensed which startled you. The first thing that crossed your mind was Eobard standing behind you. But then again, you wouldn’t be still standing surrounded by Harry’s warm arms if that was the truth.

„He’s back.” Your heart clenched, and you breathed in sharply. „I won’t let him hurt you.” With his right hand on your back and his left on your head, he hugged you tighter. „Not anymore.”

Finally when you looked up at him with teary eyes, there wasn’t a single thing on his features that reminded you of Eobard. It was simply Harry Wells with such loving glance that you melted into his body.

„Don’t worry, I will be alright” you raised your hand and stroked his faced.

„I will always worry for you” he admitted with a small smile.

„Why?” you urged him. You wanted him to say it out loud, to confirm that you aren’t hallucinating. This novel closeness felt surreal.

„Because I care about you, Y/N, a lot” Harry confessed and gently drew you into a sweet kiss. His lips were so soft and delicate; it made your heart flutter. „I…” his voice trembled. „I love you.”

„It was about time” shouted Cisco proudly, raising his hands as a ‘hallelujah’ motion, scaring you to death.

„Ramon” grunted Harry in annoyance, eyes darting deadly shots towards him.

„Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but we kinda got to go. You know, cause there’s a Nazi invasion going on and all that” he motioned a circle above his head.

The whole team was reunited on the Waverider’s deck. Flash and the others came back from Earth-X, but they paid a huge price for it. Professor Stein had been severely injured and died shortly after they came back. You wanted to be left alone, to figure out your storming thoughts, so you searched for a quiet and secluded place.

The overwhelming feelings were driving you crazy. You were sure that you will lose your mind soon, if you don’t calm down. Your frustration came out as a loud groan.

„Why is life shitting with me?” you shouted into the thin air and buried your face into your hands.

It should have been one of the best days in your life, after all the two of you finally acknowledged your feelings for each other. Well almost. Because of Cisco’s interruption you totally forgot to say those three words back to him. Life wasn’t going to make it easy for you. Eobard’s return stirred up some suppressed emotions; you’ve missed him so damn much. You hated yourself for letting him under your skin. All you wanted was to be happy with Harry, without feeling constantly guilty about it. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard; you just had to keep in mind all the sadness that the speedster caused you. Remind yourself of all the sorrow and pain he made you endure. You crossed your legs, taking a meditating position and tried to clear him out of your mind and organism.

„Why the long face, darling?” The sudden presence of another human made you jump in your seat.

„Snart! But… how?” Leo smiled at your confused facial expression.

„I’m Leo Snart, from Earth-X.” He reached out with one hand and you shook hands. „Now tell me dear, what is it that’s bothering you so much?”

„Oh, it’s complicated” you let out a big sigh accompanied by a nervous grimace.

„The matters of the heart are always complicated” he looked at you with an odd, sympathetic smile. „Eventually the things fall in their right places, trust me. Now put a smile on that pretty face and let’s kick some Nazi asses.”

„Thanks, Leo” you cracked a smile back, grateful for his encouraging words.

Harry was on the control deck with Cisco and the others. They were working on a plan to defeat the enemy but he wasn’t much of a help to them. He kept getting distracted by the earlier conversation with Y/N. He had just confessed his feelings in front of everyone to her, but she didn’t say anything back. Maybe it was because he kissed her out of the blue, or maybe it was because she didn’t felt the same way. And that’s why he couldn’t find her anywhere, because she was probably hiding from him.

Eobard’s words were ringing in his ears; “She still loves me” claimed the evil speedster. The insecurity irritated him, and when he got annoyed he usually threw stuff. He started pounding the wall nearby because of the lack of disposable objects. One thought would persistently come back to haunt him; what if she chooses that monster. “That can’t be possible, she is a rational woman. She would never go back to that bastard.”

„Harry, focus!” ordered Cisco after several minutes of calling him out.

„Not now, Ramon. I have to go” with that he was out of the room. He didn’t hear the end of Cisco’s indignant speech.

Harry was familiar with the tight relationship that was between Y/N and Eobard from the start. He knew that very well and still fell for her kind and gentle nature. Her friendship was a ray of happiness in his somber life. Even if he was just the second best thing; he would be okay with that as long as he could stay with her.

The scientist was roaming the halls, searching for Y/N. He needed to find her, to make sure she’s okay. He could only imagine how hard this could be for her after all she’d been through.

„Hey grumpy” heard a loving voice behind his back. He turned around to face Y/N.

„Who’s grumpy? I’m not grumpy” he shook his head in denial and huffed.

„Yeah, right” she waved her hand giggling.

„I will show you grumpy” he threatened and rushed towards to tickle her with a mischievous grin.

„Okay, okay” she gave herself up. „You win, but only this time” she laughed.

„I always get what I want” he smirked and attracted her into a kiss.

„If he finds out… He’ll kill you” she said in a shaky voice breaking the sugary kiss.

„He already knows. And still, here I am holding you in my arms, caressing your beautiful face and peppering it with little kisses.” He did as he said, her cheeks turning into a burning mess.

„I love you, Harry” she whispered between two kisses.

Part 5

#harrison wells #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells imagine #harry wells x reader #eobard thawne #eobard thawne x reader #eobard thawne fanfiction #harry wells x reader x eowells #The Flash #the flash fanfiction #love triangle #eowells x reader

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