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tehuti88-art · 1 year

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12/23/22: r/SketchDaily theme, "Holiday Free Draw Friday." (Sorry, I use Free Draw Fridays to practice my characters although I'm not too good at it. I may draw something holidayish soon.)

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Untersturmführer (2nd Lt.) Paul Wozniak, sans cap (top drawing) and with cap (bottom drawing). He's one of the bad guys but has a secret that would make the other bad guys turn on him in an instant if they knew. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, he's a gray poodle. (My poodle characters don't have those goofy fluffy cuts.)

TUMBLR EDIT 1: Only tangentially related, but I felt like sharing. As I was finishing up Paul Wozniak's entry, I got the urge to try to dig around and find out if I really have German ancestry or not. I definitely have French-Canadian ancestry through my maternal great-grandmother--there are records--but all I had to go on for my dad's side of the family was vague word of mouth. My mother had told me I have Pennsylvania Dutch (German) ancestry, but there was nothing to back that up; plus, when I asked her more recently, this time she said my ancestry is Dutch--completely different thing. My surname sounds German and I'd been told it is--BUT, it's also a word in English, and Google searches told me it's more often found in the UK--it could be German, yet it could also be English, Dutch, even Ashkenazi Jewish. It isn't included on Wikipedia's list of German surnames. I'm not close to extended family, I won't post my name online for safety reasons (people tend not to answer me when I post questions on forums anyway so I've given up), and I figured my dad himself either doesn't know or doesn't care (he's the sort who finds lots of questions irritating)...so I decided to try Google again. All I had to go on was my paternal grandfather's name, and my hometown, where he'd also lived. I started there.

This brought me first to the 1940 Census and my great-grandfather--as well as a tie to a Pennsylvania county with a high Pennsylvania Dutch population. I followed him to a genealogy site where I found my great-great-grandfather. I followed him to a personal genealogy site of Pennsylvania families, then followed that to various other sites. After a couple of hours (during which I took a break to work on my art for that day), plus a few additional details in the day or so after, I'd at last solved the mystery of my uncertain paternal ancestry and the origin of my surname.

I learned that my family had resided in Pennsylvania for over a century before coming to Michigan.

I learned that my family surname had changed spelling likely sometime in the late 1700s.

I learned my ancestors immigrated from Europe to Pennsylvania in 1767 on a ship called the Sally.

I learned that the earliest ancestor I could track down was a farmer named Georg, who was born around 1590. (Here the recorded trail I can find ends.)

And I learned that my family and my family name could be tracked to a particular state in Germany: We are, in fact, of German descent.

As for the name of the particular state in Germany from which my family originates?...my family comes from the state of Hesse.

I make up lots of stuff, but I could not have made this up if I tried.

Hope somebody enjoyed.

TUMBLR EDIT 2: So all right. I mentioned previously that I'd explain this SS character's decidedly odd name, so here we go.

I've made passing reference to newish character Lt. Paul Wozniak in previous entries, though until recently (I think it was Dobermann's entry?) never referred to him by name. This is largely because he only recently acquired one, and he had his first name quite a while before the last name came along. I had trouble figuring out what "Lt. Paul's" name should be but was already leaning toward something unusual; then "unusual" clearly developed into "Polish," so here we are. I went with one I knew how to pronounce (having attended school with a girl surnamed Wosniak, who I believe secretly hated my guts, but whatever).

This is a matter I haven't looked into as much as others, but suffice it to say, the Nazis hated the Poles. I don't know if they were persecuted to the same extent as the Jews, but many Slavic peoples, Poles included, were considered subhuman, and often forced into camps. Lt. Wozniak, being in the SS yet having what comes across as a "forbidden" name, seemed like it'd make for a pretty juicy plot point. And there was a tiny basis in fact for giving an SS member such a name, so I couldn't pass it up.

So what inspired such an odd choice? A fellow named...uh...Odilo Globocnik. *checks* Holy crap I spelled it right, though it took me a few backspaces. Anyway. Who is this weird-named dude? Long story short, he was an Austrian SS officer who participated in murdering the Poles, as well as various other garbagey acts. I shan't dwell on him as all he and Wozniak have in common is their odd naming circumstances. According to Wikipedia, Odilo (easier to type that than that surname) was Slovenian/Serbian/Croatian. I. e., Slavic. Yet he was still a high-ranking member of the SS and even participated in ethnic cleansing of other Slavic peoples. What up? I'm not sure if I understand what I'm reading right, but Odilo seems to have been another instance of the Nazis being big ol' flaming hypocrites when it suited them. Some of Odilo's fellows apparently ridiculed him for his non-Aryan name, but others, including Himmler himself, simply came up with an excuse: Oh, dude named Globocnik is TOTALLY Aryan! He just has a funny-spelled name because it was "Slavicized"! Yeah, that's the ticket! 🙄

I'm not sure what it was about Odilo that got him this easy pass, but there you go. It's similar in my story. Paul Wozniak, I believe, actually IS of Polish descent, so technically he should not end up accepted into the SS, but he is. He comes from a well-off family with connections--this plot point isn't developed yet, but perhaps they're even connected to Col. Rupprecht Heidenreich, which is one of the biggest connections you can get in this storyline without being connected to the Reichsführer himself. (Himmler never appears by name in my story though a guy who might be him briefly appears once or twice.) Heidenreich proves he's a hypocrite elsewhere in the story by expressing virulent antisemitism--e. g., he vows to shoot any Jew who sets foot on his land--while being a-OK having an affair with a half-Jewish woman (when she tells him this and asks if it'll be a problem, he outright says that makes it more "exciting.") Anyway, Wozniak's family are living in Germany at the time of the story and they consider themselves German and all that but, well, technicalities. They have big hopes for their son, big hopes he doesn't really share but he has no real say. They pull strings, insist they're not dirty Poles but they just have "Policized" names (yes that is a completely misused word there), he meets the SS criteria, and joins the Waffen-SS. Goes off to fight in the war. He's kind of young and definitely inexperienced, and the guy who ends up with him in his unit doesn't want to deal with the task of showing him the ropes, so passes him off to one of his other guys who has a lot more combat experience, having served in the Great War, and is named, you guessed it, Gunter Hesse.

Hesse's not terribly enthused about having to babysit New Guy but doesn't complain, gives him a crash course in how things are done. Wozniak is a fast learner so it doesn't go too badly. His personality is quite different from Hesse's--Hesse is more of a loner, doesn't really "click" with most of the younger soldiers, is the quiet stoic type, rather humorless most of the time, definitely not chatty, and comes from a lower-middle class background--his parents were killed when he was an infant so he was raised in an orphanage and spent some time in poverty after being dismissed from the army. Wozniak is younger, more sociable, loves to chat and joke around, and as I already made clear comes from the upper-middle class, has never wanted for anything. The two of them shouldn't really get along, but Wozniak wears Hesse down and they become rather decent friends. They aren't always in touch with each other since Hesse actually serves in Vincenz Immerwahr's unit, but they meet and fight alongside each other often. So of course Wozniak catches word when Hesse submits a complaint against Immerwahr for acting inappropriately toward him. Immerwahr's interest in younger men (he's older than Hesse is) is well known by most in the Waffen-SS, though Hesse wasn't in the loop. Well, he is now, and he complains about it. And his complaint is promptly brushed off by the Allgemeine-SS, which investigates such things. Hesse is humiliated but has to abide by the decision; he just decides to try to avoid Immerwahr's company as much as possible until he can figure out how to transfer to another unit.

Wozniak doesn't comment on the situation since he knows that'll just embarrass Hesse even more, though he does feel rather disappointed about it. Not because he's disgusted by Immerwahr's behavior, but because he has a crush on Hesse, too. And now he's just learned it'll never be requited, because Hesse is skeeved out by people like him. Le sigh.

So now you see Wozniak in fact has TWO very big things working against him: He's of Polish descent, AND, well...you know. He never really wanted to be in the SS, that was his parents' idea, but here we are.

Wozniak ends up getting seriously wounded and carried off to hospital; he sees Hesse, who helped save his life, standing and watching as he departs. He learns that he can remain in the SS by transferring to their noncombatant branch, the Allgemeine-SS, which deals in security and intelligence; it isn't glamorous but he transfers. He ends up serving Heidenreich's vast office dealing with recordkeeping and investigating complaints against SS officers. One day a new officer arrives in an adjacent office and Wozniak is surprised to recognize his old companion, Hesse--much similar to Wozniak, he too ended up wounded, and on the advice of the Waffen-SS physician who saw to his injury, Erich Arzt, decided to transfer so he could continue serving in the SS. Wozniak pops in to say hello and Hesse, surprised, greets him back. It looks like they'll be serving by each other yet again, albeit in a completely different capacity.

Wozniak isn't one of the major characters, and over time Hesse's friendship with Theodor Schulte kind of supplants his relationship with him, though this is largely because Schulte follows him out in the field more often, and carries out unpleasant tasks for him, whereas Wozniak tends to work from the office. One big exception to this is when Hesse is assigned to investigate the deaths of Inga Dobermann, a close friend, and the Nazi official whom she killed before dying herself. (I believe this occurs before Hesse and Schulte meet, though I could be wrong.) It's outside the scope of this entry that Inga is NOT, in fact, dead, her death was merely faked by her husband and members of the resistance movement, the Diamond Network. Despite his years-long friendship with the Dobermanns, Hesse is again out of the loop, for obvious reasons. Inga's husband, Louis Dobermann, requests that the investigation be kept low key out of respect for Inga (actually, to avoid the truth coming out, that she's Jewish and not really dead); he knows Hesse has long had romantic feelings for her, and plans on this working in his favor. Indeed it does, with Hesse taking the lead in the investigation and asking Heidenreich to allow him to keep things quiet. He requests to work with only one other officer, and chooses Wozniak, knowing he can keep things mum.

Wozniak has of course heard of the Dobermanns--they're a prominent Junker family well known for their philanthropy--though he's never really interacted with them, and doesn't know all the details of Hesse's relationship with them. (Louis Dobermann saved Hesse's life in the Great War, and Inga, who'd met the two men as they recovered in hospital, insisted on taking him in after he overdosed on morphine--prior to joining the SS, he'd lived with them and helped care for their daughter ever since. He now divides his time between the Dobermann estate and his SS-provided apartment in the city.) He picks up bits and pieces as the investigation goes on. One big hint about the exact nature of things is Hesse's reaction to Inga's "death." He initially reacts with numb shock, running on autopilot as he hurries to the estate to check out the crime scene and then returns to the city to seek Heidenreich's approval to investigate. Heidenreich calls Wozniak since it's quite late at night and most officers are at home; Wozniak agrees to meet Hesse early in the morning, while Hesse goes to get a few hours of sleep. Wozniak isn't quite sure why Hesse has gone to all this trouble, but starts to assume there's more to it than meets the eye. He shows up to work yet Hesse doesn't report to the office as expected, so Wozniak goes to his apartment, knocks, waits a bit. Hesse finally answers, groggy and bleary eyed, and lets him in; he's still dressed from the previous night but is rumpled, and asks Wozniak to wait a few moments while he washes and straightens himself up to head back to the Dobermann estate. Wozniak does so, but is vaguely perplexed; Hesse is well known for being a teetotaler, at the most he may have a glass of wine or beer once a week or so but he almost exclusively sticks to club soda. So why does he look so hungover?

Wozniak wanders around the suite a little bit and notices that the door to Hesse's private quarters is cracked open; peering within, he notices something sitting on the bed: a small kit with a syringe. He knows exactly what that must be. When Hesse comes out of the bathroom, still drying himself off, Wozniak gestures at the kit and murmurs, "You sure you're good to go, Kamerad...?" Hesse glances at the kit but then nods, and Wozniak exits the room to let him get dressed. As they leave a few moments later he can tell Hesse never actually took the drug; something must have stopped him from doing so after he prepared the needle. Something else is to blame for his uncharacteristically shabby state when he answered the door. There's no smell of alcohol on him, so Wozniak assumes a completely different cause: Hesse must have cried himself to sleep. He still isn't sure of all the particulars, but now he can tell Hesse cared for Inga very deeply.

Wozniak assists in the investigation by doing most of the behind-the-scenes work, such as digging into the SS personal records for information on the man Inga killed and why he might have been on the property in the first place. He's a bit more clear eyed than Hesse is about the whole affair, and senses something is fishy, but Hesse quickly shuts him down when he tries to suggest Dobermann may be hiding something; Hesse isn't stupid, Wozniak knows that he knows, on some level, that things aren't quite right. Yet Hesse deliberately chooses to ignore this, so Wozniak goes along with it. Both of them know Dobermann isn't telling the entire truth about Inga's "death," and is in effect using Hesse's feelings for her to ensure the investigation doesn't go too deep...and they allow him to do this, anyway. Hesse is a very by-the-book type (him filing a complaint against Immerwahr and expecting it to go anywhere is proof of this), so his behavior in the Dobermann investigation is very atypical indeed. The two of them basically pin the blame on the dead guy and let things rest there.

As time goes on, Wozniak does get to learn that the Dobermanns are Hesse's big blind spot, with him willing to bend or outright break the rules for them, and not just in regards to Inga's death. Hesse feels he owes them, and he's devoted to their daughter Adelina--treating her almost like she's his own--so even though he gets into heated arguments with Dobermann himself, he lets them get away with almost anything. The presence of Tobias Schäfer within the Dobermann household is a pretty big sign of this. Dobermann rescued Schäfer from the labor camp while Inga was still "alive," and brought him back to the estate to serve as the in-home physician. The thing is that Schäfer is Jewish, and it's illegal for him to practice medicine; also, he's deaf, which in the Nazis' eyes makes him even more "subhuman." So Dobermann's actions here are a big no-no. Wozniak meets Schäfer only later in the story when he accidentally runs into him during a visit to the estate; normally, Hesse has Schäfer hide when Nazis visit, though this time there was an oversight. (The same thing happens with Hasso Reinhardt, who currently runs the camp.) Wozniak isn't terribly antisemitic, despite working for the SS; he's more curious about Schäfer's presence than alarmed. Especially when he learns that Hesse's first reaction to Dobermann showing up with Schäfer was to demand that he return him to the camp, where Schäfer was just about to be sent to the firing squad. By the time Wozniak meets Schäfer, he and Hesse are on generally decent terms, and as I already mentioned, Hesse actively participates in concealing his presence, now. It's weird but Wozniak chalks it up yet again to Hesse's devotion to the Dobermanns. He never tips off his boss Heidenreich as to any of these irregularities, partly because of his own secrets.

At one point in the plot, a Lebensborn maternity home is bombed (still working out the details of this), and Wozniak, who was visiting at the time, ends up trapped with an unwed pregnant woman who goes into labor; he helps her deliver the baby. He runs into her (she needs a name now) later on in the story and learns she's going to give the baby up for adoption. This is normal; the SS established the Lebensborn maternity homes to provide for pregnant SS wives and unwed mothers, the latter of whom, if they're racially desirable enough, are expected to adopt their children out to SS families who don't have their own. Lebensborn helps protect these women from the stigma generally attached to being pregnant out of wedlock, and ensures their children a good home. Wozniak chats with this woman and gets to know a bit about her; she had a brief relationship with another SS officer, but he wasn't interested in making it serious, and bailed out when she discovered she was pregnant. Her family aren't thrilled about the situation, and threatened to disown her if she didn't get the situation "taken care of" somehow. Abortion is illegal for Aryan German citizens, due to the low birth rate, so Lebensborn is her only option. Despite all of Wozniak's efforts to get her to laugh or smile, she remains gloomy and vaguely hostile, so he asks if she even wants to put the child up for adoption; the look on her face makes it clear she doesn't. She simply has no other choice.

Wozniak suddenly hits upon an idea: He proposes. Out of the blue. (Yes, similarities to Ludolf Jäger's and Magdalena Jäger's tale, though keep reading, it's different.) He'll marry her, and pose as the officer who got her pregnant, insisting he's had a change of heart and has decided to marry her after all--this should resolve all her issues with her family. New Mother just gives him the most flabbergasted stare.

Wozniak: "Well...?"

New Mother: "What are you even getting at--?"

Wozniak: "Exactly as I said. What do you say?"

New Mother: "I say you've lost your head! What nonsense is this? We hardly know each other."

Wozniak: "So? I get the feeling that's pretty common with this thing, ja? Sounds like you didn't know the other fellow too well, either."

New Mother: "You're really terrible at this, you know?"

Wozniak: "And yet you're not saying nein."

New Mother: "And neither am I saying ja! You're being a horrible Arsch. Last thing I need right now is jokes."

Wozniak: "For once I'm serious. And so what do you say? Ja or nein?"

New Mother: "What do you think? I'm not even interested in you like that!"

Wozniak: "...Huh. I suppose I should be offended. I guess it's a good thing I'm not interested in you like that, either."

New Mother: (angrily) "And what's that supposed to mean--?" (blinks) "...Oh."

Wozniak explains: He's not being ENTIRELY selfless with his proposal. A marriage wouldn't benefit just her, it would benefit him as well: His family have been nagging at him to find a nice wife, settle down, have some kids. None of which he's interested in doing in the least. But they're getting kind of pushy about it, and the SS is too, since they request their eligible members to have families. Here, they can kill two birds with one stone: He can placate his family and the SS and help cover up his preferences by marrying her and claiming her child as his own, while she placates her family by marrying the "father" of her child and not getting disowned. She's very reluctant about this scheme, as it strikes her as terribly unfair to expect him to give up his own chance at a relationship by helping her; to which he frankly responds, "I already have no such chance, not unless I want to be executed." New Mother knows of course that the Third Reich forbids the sort of relationship Wozniak would be interested in, but she admittedly never thought about just how harsh the consequences can be--Wozniak doesn't look at all like the sort of person who'd be put in a camp or outright killed, yet he is. Still, she feels so much guilt over this--"It isn't fair, this isn't the way it should be"--that he has to do a lot of convincing to bring her around that it actually benefits him more than her, and she has nothing to feel bad about, she's not responsible for his happiness. They plan to visit their families before seeking permission from the SS, since the blessings of their relatives should carry some weight. Accordingly, they go to meet her parents first.

New Mother's parents watch in consternation as an unfamiliar car pulls in, an SS officer gets out (it's almost never a good thing to get a visit from the SS, so although they're good law-abiding Germans, they're nervous), then helps someone out of the passenger side--it's their daughter, and she's carrying a baby. They hurry out to meet her, wondering what's going on; when New Mother awkwardly introduces Wozniak, and he clarifies that he's the same officer she'd been seeing previously, they're surprised, but everyone goes inside to talk over tea. Wozniak is of course asked about his name (he provides the same BS story his parents always have--he's Aryan German, just the family name was changed when they lived in Poland--and they agree it must be true, he wouldn't have been allowed in the SS otherwise), and when asked the circumstances of him being there now, after he'd dumped their daughter, he expresses great contrition, explaining how when he saw her with their baby he realized what he had turned his back on; he's had a change of heart, and wishes to start a proper family. They ask how the two of them met in the first place; New Mother gets flustered, but Wozniak comes right out with an elaborate story that even explains why she didn't answer the question ("She's embarrassed that it isn't as romantic as she thinks it should be"). Her parents buy it hook, line, and sinker, and leave the room a moment to talk amongst themselves.

New Mother: (whispering) "What was all that??"

Wozniak: (whispering) "I had to say something, you weren't answering!"

New Mother: "How did you learn to--to LIE like that? Like you do it every day!"

Wozniak: "I DO do it every day! I sort of have to!"

Parents return to the room, give Wozniak a gentle finger shake over "his previous behavior," but for the most part are too thrilled to be angry. They offer their blessing. The two next visit Wozniak's parents. They're even more surprised than hers: "We had no idea you were even seeing anybody," his mother exclaims, "and now you show up with a baby?--why did you never tell us?" This time, Wozniak hems and haws, and New Mother speaks up--"He's embarrassed that it isn't as romantic as he thinks it should be"--and repeats the story Wozniak had told. His parents excuse themselves a moment.

Wozniak: (sideways glance) "I must be rubbing off on you already. You did that a little too easily."

Wozniak's parents reappear, give their blessing. Next up is the SS. Considering that both Wozniak and New Mother have already met SS physical/racial requirements, this step is the easiest of all; the most complicated aspect is the marriage ceremony and the baby's christening. Wozniak warns New Mother these might be weird. They go through with it, then depart, newly wed, New Mother carrying the baby and both of them staring off into space, brows furrowed pensively.

New Mother: "You're right. That was...weird."

Wozniak: "That's sort of how we do things."

New Mother: "What was that book he kept reading aloud from...?"

Wozniak: "Ah...Mein Kampf."

New Mother: "Oh."

Wozniak: "I don't recommend it, it's not very good."

New Mother: "Ja."

New Mother repeatedly agonizes over their choice to pose as a couple, feeling like she's depriving him of his own life, and Wozniak has to keep reassuring her otherwise. Over time it becomes clear she's actually developed some feelings for him after all, though he has no interest in reciprocating (a fact that he feels apologetic about, but it's not like he can do anything about it). They have to deal numerous times with awkward situations such as sharing a bed and keeping their families convinced they're into each other, as well as why no more children seem to be forthcoming...I haven't delved very much yet into all this, so I'm not sure how far they're both willing to go to maintain the act. They do grow to genuinely love each other in an unusual way, though, so the marriage isn't as pure a con job as it started out as.

Wozniak participates in Hesse's investigation of the murder of their boss, Col. Heidenreich; everyone is stunned when the killer turns out to be his own wife, Eva, with the assistance of...Capt. Arzt, who tended to Hesse's injuries and suggested he join the Allgemeine-SS all those years ago. Eva is hanged, whereas Arzt commits suicide while Hesse and Wozniak are taking him into custody. Wozniak sees Hesse's former blind devotion to the SS starting to waver, and he spends more time with his mistress Sophie; Wozniak catches wind of Hesse proposing to her, and encourages him to follow through--and soon. Ominous news is trickling in from the Eastern Front that the war is taking a bad turn, and Wozniak tells Hesse this might be a good time for him to retire to the country with Sophie--Hesse is surprised when Wozniak admits he's making similar plans in case things get worse. Surprised, because Wozniak is still young, and so resigning from the SS now seems premature. Hesse gets the same advice from SS major Jan Delbrück, who just returned from the front and so knows what's going on. Unfortunately for Hesse, he ignores this advice, although he does indicate to Sophie that he'll leave the SS if they refuse his request to marry her; events come to a head before he can act, and he, Schulte, and Sophie don't meet good ends.

Delbrück and Wozniak--independently of each other--are more clear eyed, and take action sooner. Delbrück barely makes it out of the city as the Allies arrive, while Wozniak hurries to fetch New Mother. She's bewildered when he bursts in, dressed in plain clothes, and tells her to get the baby and a few belongings as they have to leave right then. He urges her to contact her parents and tell them to leave as well, but a telephone call to them results in nothing: They've decided to stay where they are, confident the enemy will be defeated. Wozniak tries to suggest they go pick them up but New Mother cuts him off--turns out her parents have gone full Nazi, she's certain they won't come along, and what's more, they'll definitely never accept it should they find out the truth about their marriage--she suspects they may even become dangerous. Right now, it's best for them to focus on themselves, and the baby. He's surprised that she's willing to leave her family behind--he'd made the same decision regarding his own--but all she has to say to that is "We're the family now, ja?" She gathers some supplies for the baby, they get bundled into the car, and head out of the city and toward the mountains, where Wozniak reasons they stand a better chance of surviving. He says he knows someone he can contact for help after things settle down a little.

While I was taking a small break from typing this, Wozniak revealed the rest of his story to me, and it doesn't end the way I'd originally thought. Here we go, though. He and New Mother hide out in the mountains for a bit, then make their way toward Poland, where Wozniak says he still has extended family who might be able to help. (Here is where New Mother--holy cripes do I need to find her a name, by this point she's not exactly a new mother anymore--asks, dumbfounded, "Your family really does come from Poland?--you have Slavic blood? How on earth did they let you into the SS??" Wozniak simply confirms that yes, he's ethnically Polish, and also his family had connections, which counts for more than blood, apparently.) He tracks down a distant cousin who, from the looks of it, knows of his service in the SS. Relative agrees to meet him in an out-of-the-way place with some material to aid him, though it's not a friendly meeting.

Relative: "You have some real nerve showing your face here."

Wozniak: "I appreciate your help."

Relative: "Well, I don't appreciate seeing you." (nods at New Mother) "Who's she?"

Wozniak: "This is my wife."

Relative: "Wife--? Oh, this is rich. So you married one of them, too. Nice."

Wozniak: "I don't want to take up your time--"

Relative: "Don't worry about me, I don't want you taking up my time, either. Here. I do you ONE favor." (hands over some documents) "Papers you people love so much."

Wozniak: (looks at papers; they're in Polish, but New Mother can tell they're identity papers for three members of the Wozniak family) "Who are they?"

Relative: "WERE they. Don't worry, they don't need these papers anymore."

Wozniak: "What happened to them?"

Relative: (livid) "Don't you dare act like you don't know. Now I did my part. I don't want to see any of you ever again." (leaves)

New Mother: "Paul...you had family who died in the camps?"

Wozniak: "I didn't know any of them too well. Haven't been here since my parents left. Anyway..." (tucks papers away) "We're them, now."

New Mother can tell the tense interaction wears on him, but doesn't press. He gets the papers back out later for them to study and remember the details (Paul Wozniak's new name, for example, is Piotr (Peter) Wozniak) and ends up with tears flooding his eyes, but says nothing about what he's thinking. The three of them manage under their new identities to secure some funds and a small cabin in the woods--Wozniak deems living in the country safer than returning to a city--and they squeak by on hunting and gathering, supplementing this by doing minor jobs for their few distant neighbors who mostly keep to themselves. It isn't easy, but at least it's a living, and the two of them genuinely care for each other and the child. Things are sure to get easier as time goes by.

That's where I thought Wozniak's story basically ended, with the little family making it by on their own, relatively content. But a bit more emerged. They live this way for a year or so, maybe three, and are quite resilient and happy with each other. Winter arrives and it's always a difficult season but by now they know how to handle it. One day Wozniak heads outside to go hunting in the woods, but halts as soon as he notices footprints in the snow; further examination shows that during the night, someone came up to the cabin and tried peering inside. Feeling dread creeping up inside, Wozniak orders New Mother to lock the windows and door and to take the child and hole up in the cellar for now, and not come outside for anything; she repeatedly asks what's going on, but he doesn't answer, just insists: "Not for ANYTHING." She obeys, locking up everything after him and taking Child into the cellar--their food and supply stores are down here, so they can stay for a while--and waiting, filled with dread. After some time she hears it--a gun blast. Then a few moments later, a second. She huddles hugging Child tight, fighting not to burst into tears or to hurry out of their shelter, but there are no more gunshots--and no other sounds at all. Only after a few hours have passed without anything else happening does she instruct Child to stay hidden in the cellar, then ventures out. The cabin is just as it was left; no one's tried to enter. She unlocks the door, taking a rifle and sled with her--in case he's hurt--and follows Wozniak's tracks into the woods.

Wozniak has followed the other set of tracks. As soon as he catches a flicker of movement among the trees, he makes a noise--deliberately giving away his location--then, hearing the snow crunching, he hurries deeper into the trees and away from the cabin. The fact that nobody tried to break in in the night makes him hope that whoever this is isn't interested in his wife or child, but he leads them as far away as he can just in case. Finally he turns and his pursuer emerges: An unknown man with a shotgun, which he aims at Wozniak as soon as he sees he's turned around. He undoes the flaps on his cap to show his face and yells, "Do you remember me?" Wozniak has to squint at him for a moment or two, but at last a vague memory comes back to him; some years ago, when he and Hesse had been visiting the labor camp, a group of newly arrived prisoners had paraded past; one of them had stared keenly at the two SS officers, making eye contact with Wozniak; his stare had unsettled Wozniak and he'd turned away. That was it, that was the total of their interactions--yet Wozniak remembers him, and the man now says, "You do remember me. Good." He approaches, shotgun still aimed, as Wozniak slowly steps back, hands raised.

Stranger: "I told myself to never forget your faces. After I got out of that place. Tried tracking you both down. Couldn't find that other bastard. I guess you'll have to do."

Wozniak: "Bitte..."

Stranger: "Pretending to be a Pole to hide in plain sight. Sneaky, even for you fellows. You know some of you even put on prisoners' clothes to get away? Clever, but not clever enough."

Wozniak: "Bitte, I have people who depend on me..."

Stranger: (screaming) "SO DID I!" (raises gun) (voice cracking) "Maybe you'll meet them! Since I don't believe in Hell!" (fires)

There's a special kind of irony in Wozniak concealing his true ancestry all this time to protect himself, yet in it not protecting him when he needed it to, I guess. He falls to his knees, topples over backwards, goes still. The shooter stands there a moment, then approaches and kicks Wozniak's foot a couple of times--"Get up. Wake up." No response, so he nudges him with the gun barrel; Wozniak is limp. Then, unexpectedly...shooter starts gasping and shaking and his eyes flood with tears. He halfheartedly wipes them away.

Stranger: (crying) "They're still gone. It's not supposed to be like this." (sinks to his knees, drops shotgun, starts sobbing) "It isn't fair. Nothing's changed. I did it for nothing." (removes pistol from his belt, puts it to his head)

New Mother had heard two gunshots. She crests a rise, panting from all the trudging, then spots it: two forms lying still in the snow in a clearing. Lets out a cry--"Paul!"--and stumbles toward him. She drops down and pulls his head and shoulders into her lap and cries, "Nein, nein, nein, Paul," and hugs him tight, but he's growing cold by now. She eventually pulls herself together enough to dig a hole in the snow--pushing the stranger into it and covering him up--then gets Wozniak and the guns onto the sled and, still weeping, pulls him back home with her. All she can think of are the relatives he left behind in Poland; they made it clear they never wanted to see him again, but she makes plans to get to them anyway. She wants Wozniak to have a proper burial.

New Mother's story continues a little bit longer, but that's pretty much it for Wozniak's; I toyed with the idea of him having been wearing some sort of armor under his clothes and playing dead after the shot, but that was silly, and Wozniak himself wouldn't have it. I guess I don't like the thought of too many "bad guys" getting off with happy endings--even though Wozniak tries to be good, and never murders anyone, and never wished to be in the SS in the first place--he likely would have ended up a victim himself if he didn't join--still, he COULD have defied his parents and refused to join, or at least quit after being wounded rather than transfer into the Allgemeine-SS, whose investigations and recordkeeping often helped out the Holocaust as much as the actual killings did. He had a choice, and technically he is a bad guy. He survives the war, but not for very long.

[Paul Wozniak 2022 [‎Friday, ‎December ‎23, ‎2022, ‏‎4:00:13 AM]]

[Paul Wozniak 2022 2 [‎Friday, ‎December ‎23, ‎2022, ‏‎4:00:22 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #SketchDaily #original characters

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years

Text

too busy ~ eminem

word count: 1940

request?: yes!

“Hey!!, you wonderful writer of eminem stories, could you write about eminem x reader? Where they have not had a night appointment in months, because Marshall is working and barely had time alone for both of them, so Marshall has as a priority to remind him how much he loves her when she has the opportunity.

Thank you♡!!!”

description: in which he’s been so busy lately that she rarely gets to see him, and she starts to worry about the effects that will have on their relationship

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of smut

masterlist (one, two)

This was the night. There was no way he didn’t jump my bones the minute he got home. He even promised me he would be home at an earlier time tonight.

The past few months, Marshall and I hadn’t been...intimate. He was usually busy recording or working on his next album, or producing something for one of the artists on his record label, or rehearsing for the Halftime Show. He always had something happening. By the time he would get home he would either be too tired for sex, or I’d already be in bed.

But not tonight. When he left this morning he said he’d be home no later than 9pm. I decided to use this to my advantage. There was lingerie I had bought long ago that I decided to wear, and I took it a step further by lighting a few candles around the room. It was an absolutely romantic setting. There was no way we didn’t finally have sex again tonight.

It was close to 9pm. I laid out on our shared bed, waiting for Marshall. The house was silent as I listened for his car to come up the driveway, for him to walk through the front door. My heart was beating quickly with excitement as the seconds ticked on.

But then the seconds became minutes and the minutes became an hour. No texts, no calls, no show. The candles were starting to burn out and my eyes were growing heavy. Eventually, I called it a night and blew out the few remaining candles let. I changed into pajamas and got into the cold, lonely bed.

I laid awake for a long time. My body was exhausted but my mind was running a mile a minute. I was still fighting for sleep when the door finally opened and Marshall walked into the room. I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to sleep. I heard Marshall shuffling around the room before he got into bed next to me. He didn’t even put his arms around me like he usually did. He just fell asleep immediately.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I finally managed to get to sleep.

~~~~~~

Marshall was gone before I woke up the next morning. I had to hold back more tears as I pulled myself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen for breakfast.

I let myself wallow for a while before deciding I couldn’t let the sadness take over me. There was nothing I could do in that moment. Marshall was gone to work, I couldn’t have a very well needed conversation with him until we were in the same room for more than a few seconds. So I wasn’t going to let it get to me. Instead, I decided to call Skylar.

“Hello beautiful,” she answered. “What can I do for you?”

I chuckled. “I want to come over for a girls day? I got wine and I got endless movies and shows on Netflix.”

“Oh, you know I’m so in. I’ll be over in 15.”

A few hours later, Skylar and I were sat on the couch finishing our second movie and our second glass of wine each. I passed Skylar the remote so she could pick the next movie for us to watch.

“Are you okay, by the way?” she asked as she flicked through the comedy section. “You seem kind of down.”

I signed and reached for the wine bottle to pour myself another glass. “I don’t know...I’m worried about mine and Marshall’s relationship.”

She quickly looked over at me. “What? Why?”

“This is going to sound stupid and maybe I’m just reaching, but we haven’t been intimate for months. He’s rarely ever home and when he is, it’s late at night and he’s too tired, or I’m too tired and already asleep. But part of me wonders if maybe he’s not home because...what if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore?”

“Of course he does, (Y/N), don’t say that.”

I shrugged and took a sip from my glass. “I know he’s busy and all, and not having sex for a long time shouldn’t be such a big deal or anything, but it’s hard not to worry about him not finding me attractive or not wanting to be with me when it feels like he doesn’t even want to put time aside to spend with me or to even be home at an early enough time that we could have sex. Take last night, for example. He promised me he would be home early so I decided to set up this romantic scene for the two of us. Even had this new pair of lingerie and everything. And then he didn’t show up. Didn’t even text or call me to tell me why he was late. When he did come home, he just got in bed and went to sleep, then was gone when I woke up this morning.”

Skylar scrunched up her nose. “Okay, yeah, that is shitty. Maybe he just didn’t realize the time?”

“I guess that’s possible. I don’t know, Skylar. I’ve just been in my head a lot. It’s not like I can even talk to Marshall about it. He’s never home.”

“You could call him.”

I shook my head. “No, this isn’t a conversation that can happen over the phone. We have to talk about it face to face.”

“Let’s talk about it now then.”

Skylar and I jumped at the sound of a third voice and looked over to see Marshall standing in the doorway to the living room. My eyes widened as I realized the implications of what he was saying.

“How long have you been there?” I asked him.

“Long enough.”

I felt my face burning with embarrassment. Skylar looked over at me before placing her glass on the coffee table and quickly standing. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for the girls day, (Y/N). I’ll see both of you around.”

She nodded quickly at Marshall before dashing around him and out the front door, leaving the two of us alone. I placed my glass of wine on the coffee table next to Skylar’s and stood to face Marshall.

“I didn’t know you’d be home so early today,” I told him.

“I wasn’t working today. I went to pick up Hailie from the airport and brought her home. She was telling me stories from her trip and showing me pictures, I didn’t realize how long I had been gone.”

I mentally facepalmed. Of course, I had totally forgotten Hailie was coming home from her vacation today. Marshall had told her he would pick her up from the airport since he hadn’t been able to see her off.

“Oh,” I said, lamely. “Right.”

“Do you really think I don’t find you attractive anymore?”

Hearing him say the words, even if he was asking and not stating them, made a lump form in my throat. I looked away from him, electing to stare at the floor for a long time instead.

“We’ve barley seen each other in months,” I said. “We haven’t had sex in just as long. You came home last night and you didn’t even cuddle into me like you normally do. You just went to sleep. How am I not supposed to feel like maybe you don’t find me attractive anymore? Or that I’m doing something wrong in this relationship?”

Marshall approached me and wrapped me in his arms. I rested my head against his chest, trying to will myself not to cry. I didn’t want him to see me so upset, especially not when I knew I was overreacting. I shouldn’t be getting this upset over not having sex with him in so long, but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry that you feel like this,” he said. “It has nothing to do with you, babe, I’ve just been busy. I got a lot going on right now and I’m just trying to get everything done now so I can have a long time off to spend with you.”

“I know you’ve been busy,” I said. “Which is why I know it’s dumb for me to feel this way, but I can’t help it. It’s hard when you’re never home and I’m just here in this big empty house. I know you love what you’re doing, and I know the Halftime Show is a huge opportunity for you. Obviously I’d never ask you to give any of that up. It just sucks to be here alone so often, and to try and wait up for you most nights and then you don’t come home until super late and go right to bed.”

Marshall pulled away from our embrace to look down at me. I could see the guilt in his eyes and I felt bad. I didn’t want him to feel guilty for doing his job. I didn’t really know how I wanted him to feel about what I was saying. I didn’t even really know how I felt. I just knew I wanted more time with my boyfriend, just the two of us, for more than a few minutes every night.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I really do try to make more time for us in the evenings. I always try to come home early enough that I can be with you, but unfortunately things never really go as planned. Last night I just got caught up in the rehearsals for the Halftime Show and didn’t realize the time. We finally got everything just right and we wanted to do a couple full run throughs of the setlist to make sure it was really good. I didn’t realize until I was leaving what time it was, and when I got home I was so exhausted and thought you were asleep that I just laid down on the bed and was out like a light in seconds.”

I sighed and rested my head against his chest again. “I know. I’m glad it’s all working out for you, though. I shouldn’t just be thinking about myself.”

“It’s okay to feel the way you do. I can’t blame you for feeling that way when we rarely see each other anymore. I promise I’ll try to make more time going forward. Even if it’s just a few hours at the end of the day.”

I smiled up at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

We stood in silence for another while before Marshall pulled away to kiss me. I melted against him. It was a well needed embrace after only getting rushed kisses in the morning or tired ones at night. It was a real kiss, full of passion and longing. His hands grabbed at me, pressing my body as close to his as he possibly could. One hand wandered down my back to cup my ass and gave it a firm squeeze. I gasped into the kiss, giving him the access he needed to slip his tongue into my mouth.

“I heard you mention some lingerie you had for me last night,” he muttered against my lips.

I giggled. “Yeah, I bought this really nice set a few months ago. I was hoping to show it off to you last night, but got tired before you came home.”

“Do you want to show it to me now?”

I smirked up at him and shrugged. “I guess I could be bothered to put it back on for you.”

I started walking towards our bedroom when Marshall smacked my ass. I giggled and ran up to the bedroom with him hot on my trail.

#eminem #eminam imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

the garden.

| 1940s!bucky barnes x reader | fluff | mild angst |

You walked home from work, seeing your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes, leaning against the wall of his house. His arrogant smirk appeared as you walked up the path to your door, scrunching your nose at the sight of him.

James Buchanan Barnes was irritating. The first day he’d moved in, he and his friends were loud until the early hours of the morning, drunkenly shouting along with his record player. Then, his drunk friends had walked through your garden, trampling half of your flowers and some vegetables. And he was always outside with his stupid smirk, thinking his pretty face was enough to win you over.

Bucky was also gorgeous, and the worst part was, he knew it. You’d seen him in town flirting with girls in the market, and everywhere he went. Even your friends all fought for his attention. When they’d come over, you’d sit outside on your porch and they would all wave to him and giggle. He greeted them, chattering with the blushing and giggling girls who fell at his feet. You always rolled your eyes and ignored him, unamused.

Bucky was fascinated by you, the only girl to never fall for his charm. He was charismatic and had every girl at his fingertips that he had ever wanted. He knew that the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, and you despised his smoking habit. However, he had made it his goal to win you back over, but you had proven to be stubborn. You were a challenge, and Bucky was determined.

“Hey doll.” He greeted you as you stepped up onto your porch.

“It’s Y/N.” You scowled at him, and he said your name, winking at you.

He checked you out, admiring you in your high waisted pants and button down. You shook your head at him, going inside your house, closing the door. You put your grocery bag down and started to make dinner, when you saw Bucky on your porch. You groaned and opened your window, looking at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“My stove is out of gas. Could you put me up for dinner?” He gave you a boyish grin, rocking on his heels.

“Why would I do that?”

“To be neighborly,” he suggested.

“C’mon. Because I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” Bucky tried again.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Y/N, the stores are closed, it’s late.”

“Fine. Get in here.” You gave in, shaking your head and shutting the window. He waltzed through the front door, looking too pleased with himself.

“Plus, I brought a gift!” He held up a bottle of rosé.

“So you can get drunk and ruin my flowers again?”

“I apologized for that. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” You said, not convincing him or yourself.

“Where’re your glasses?” He asked, and you pulled a cabinet open, stirring your pot of pasta. He pulled down two glasses and filled them.

“Maybe I don’t drink.”

“You do, this is your favorite wine. I’ve seen you drinking it on the porch swing at least twice.” Bucky called you out.

“Oh, so you stalk me?” You accused.

“No, you just sit outside all the time.”

He lifted the glass to his lips, smiling behind the rim. You drank from your own, needing it in order to deal with him. You noticed his dog tags, resting against his skin with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He caught you staring, but he held eye contact, wanting to make you blush.

“You fight in the war?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“I will. I haven’t been deployed yet. Me and my friend Steve recruit here, but we’ll go with the next team.”

“Where will you go?”

“Germany, maybe. Or Poland.”

You hummed, thinking that Bucky didn’t seem like the military type. You supposed it was his duty though, and he didn’t want to be labeled as a draft dodger. You strained the noodles and mixed them with the sauce, serving him a plate. Bucky thanked you, taking a seat at your tablecloth.

“Hey, get down, Pepper.” You scolded your cat that jumped onto his lap. You apologized and he smiled, petting her head.

“She has no manners. Push her off,”

“She’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smiled, and your cat jumped onto the floor, prowling for dropped food. You ate quietly, ignoring his silver gaze.

“How long have you lived here?” He made conversation.

“Since I left my parents’ house when I was sixteen,”

“That’s awful young. Why?”

You didn’t answer, pouring yourself another glass of wine, and he tilted his glass for more. You emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass, earning a thank-you.

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I’m absolutely buying you dinner. We’ll go out, to Brooklyn.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Is there any way to get out of it?” You asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re an amazing cook.” Bucky complimented, standing and taking your empty plates before you could.

“Thanks. I got that-”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He turned on your sink and began to wash everything, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched him, biting back a small smile.

“I’ll just be getting out of your hair. Have a goodnight, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, closing the door after him. You picked up your cat and held her, watching him walk across the lawn. He waved at you when he saw you watching through the window, and you shut the curtains.

You came home the next day, tired and annoyed from work. You were in a bad mood, and you just wanted to relax.

“James?” You stopped when you saw him kneeling in your yard.

“Y/N, you’re home.”

“Why the hell are you in my yard?!” You demanded, opening the gate.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I was replanting your flowers.” He said, kneeling in your garden.

Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the rows of freshly planted daffodils, and you walked over to him slowly.

“Thank you.” You were impressed, and he leaned back on his heels.

“I’m... I can’t take you out like this. Let me change, then we can go for our dinner?” He smiled down at himself, dirt and grass staining his pants.

You nodded, hiding your smile behind your hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You shook your head, watching him go toward his house. You went inside and quickly changed your own clothes, into wide white pants and a yellow button down. You fixed your makeup, and went to meet him on the porch. You bit your lip, smiling as you opened the door to find him standing with a bouquet of daisies.

“Bucky...” You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I thought you’d like them. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s working.” You whispered before putting the flowers in a vase. You walked to his car with him, and he opened the door for you, being so charming.

Bucky lived to see your smile. When he finally earned it with the flowers, warmth erupted in his chest and spread through him. He had truly felt bad about your garden and spent the whole afternoon replanting it for you. He drove you into the city, music playing softly on the radio.

“Where are we going?”

“New York pizza, Y/N,” Bucky looked proud of himself.

“That sounds amazing.” You confessed, your stomach growling. You’d missed lunch at work, and you were starving.

“Pizza is my favorite.”

“Mine too!” Bucky announced, and you giggled at that. He turned and smiled at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than it usually did.

You arrived at the pizza place, following Bucky inside. He put his hand on your lower back, and you felt the butterflies again.

“What would you like?”

“Margherita pizza. I’m a classic girl.”

“Perfect.” He ordered for the two of you, leaning against the bartop while you waited.

“We’ll take it to go.”

“We’re not eating here?” You asked, confused, and he shook his head.

“Got a better idea.” Bucky winked at you, taking the pizza box once it was done.

“Can you take this for a second, doll?” He asked, handing it to you as we stood outside. You took it from him, and he leaned into his car, pulling out a blanket before taking the pizza. He nodded for you to follow, and you walked a few blocks down to a park, where he spread the blanket. You were beaming as you sat down beside him, the glow of the street lights and the stars making him look impossibly more attractive.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” You smiled, biting into a slice of pizza. He looked pleased, and the two of you found yourselves talking until the streets were silent. You were sitting in front of him, when he leaned forward, kissing you. You kissed him back, threading your fingers into his dark hair, letting him move you onto his lap. His tongue pushed past your lips, your mouths moving in sync.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Bucky asked, surprising you. You were blushing furiously, and you almost said no, but the feeling his words gave you, made your heart race.

“Yes, James.” You pecked his lips and he grinned into the kiss.

That was how you and Bucky ended up spending most of your time together. He helped you tend to your garden, and you taught him about the plants. You were a botanist with a green thumb, and he was in awe of your tender care of your plants. Every night in the following weeks was spent with the two of you gently rocking on your porch swing, drinking coffee, listening to records, or making out. Either that, or you were listening to him read on the couch or in your bed.

You and Bucky had been together for almost two months, when he came home late from work one evening when it was nearing October. You were waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching for his car to roll in.

“James!” You called, and he walked up to you.

“Hey, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You looked up at him, and your gaze meeting with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Worry filled you, and he sat down next to you.

“I’m getting deployed. We leave in two weeks.” He breathed, and your heart fell into pieces.

“I’ll wait for you.” You said finally.

“Y/N, you could be waiting for years, or I may not make it back.”

“Don’t say that!” You cried.

“It’s the truth--”

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you shook your head. You climbed onto his lap and clung to him, gripping his shirt and crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back and held you on the porch.

“I want to get married, before you go.” You said, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Doll, you can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. Marry me. Marry me and promise you’ll come back for me.” You touched his face, and he brushed tears from your cheeks.

“I will marry you, and I will fight every single day to come home to you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.”

For months, you and your cat waited on your porch, the cool metal dog tags resting against your sternum. A box of his letters sat on your bedside table, telling you how much he missed you, and loved you, and he wanted to come home to his beautiful wife. All of your friends thought you were mad for marrying a man you’d only dated a few months, the week before he went off to war. A star hung in your window, and every day was spent waiting. Your garden flourished, pumpkins growing as autumn approached. The nights you spent outside began to grow colder, and you waited.

When you saw him, it was like fireworks exploded inside of you. He was tired, he looked wartorn, and he was definitely more muscular. You screamed, tossing your blanket off of you, and running. You jumped over the fence, making him laugh. You threw your arms around him, and he caught you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and spun you around, planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

You were crying as Bucky held you, overwhelmed with joy to see him. You didn’t sleep that night, or the next few.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #1940s!bucky #40s!bucky #earl grey bucky

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #death eaters #voldemort #horcrux #hogwarts #harry potter #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #moldy voldy

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aliveandfullofjoy · 3 years

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Oscar Trivia 2021

A few days late, but here we are!

The elephant in the room is that for the first time in Oscar history, there is more than one woman nominated in Best Director: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) and Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman). As part of their unique roads to their nominations, Zhao is the first Asian woman nominated for the award, while Fennell is both the first British woman nominated and the first woman to be nominated for her directorial debut. If either of them win (which looks incredibly likely for Zhao), they will be only the second woman to win Best Director, joining Kathryn Bigelow who won for The Hurt Locker (2009).

The late Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom) has become the eighth actor to be nominated posthumously and the first in the Best Actor category since Massimo Troisi in 1995 (Il Postino). If/when he wins, he’ll be the third actor to win after their death, joining Peter Finch (Best Actor 1976, Network) and Heath Ledger (Best Supporting Actor 2008, The Dark Knight).

In a continuation of the weirdest streak possible, Leslie Odom, Jr. (One Night in Miami) is the fourth artist in a row to be nominated for both acting and songwriting. For over 40 years, Barbra Streisand had the distinction of being the only person nominated for both acting and songwriting. Mary J. Blige one-upped her in 2017 when she was nominated in both categories in the same year (Mudbound), and then Lady Gaga (A Star is Born) and Cynthia Erivo (Harriet) managed to do the same in the following years. Odom is now the fifth person to achieve this distinction in Oscar history and the first man to do so. Barbra still has the last laugh, though: she’s still the only person to win both categories (albeit in different years).

Steven Yeun (Minari) is the first Asian-American actor ever nominated in the Best Actor category and the third male Asian-American actor nominated ever, joining the ranks of former Supporting Actor nominees Mako and Pat Morita.

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm’s Maria Bakalova is the first Bulgarian actor nominated for an Oscar.

With her Best Actress nomination for Nomdland, Frances McDormand has joined Meryl Streep, Jack Nicholson, Laurence Olivier, and Michael Caine as actors nominated in five consecutive decades. Additionally, as one of the producers of Nomadland, McDormand is the first woman nominated in acting and producing in the same year and the third overall (the other two being Barbra Streisand and Oprah Winfrey).

Glenn Close (Hillbilly Elegy) received her eighth nomination, extending her own record as the most nominated living actor without a win. She is also the third actor to be nominated for both an Oscar and a Razzie for the same performance, and the first since 1983.

Daniel Kaluuya (Judas and the Black Messiah) is the first Black British actor to receive more than one Oscar nomination. If he wins (which looks incredibly likely), he’ll be the first ever Black British actor to win an Oscar.

With her nomination for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, Viola Davis is now the most nominated Black actress in Oscar history, with four nominations and one win. If she wins, she’ll be only the second Black woman to win a Leading Actress Oscar and the first since Halle Berry, who won for 2001′s Monster’s Ball.

Riz Ahmed (Sound of Metal) is the first actor to Pakistani descent to be nominated in any acting category and the first Muslim actor nominated in Best Actor. His performance is also the first one primarily in American Sign Language (ASL) nominated in this category since Alan Arkin in 1968′s The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. Additionally, Ahmed is one of the only actors of color in Oscar history to be nominated for a role in which his race has no bearing on the story.

Youn Yuh-jung (Minari) is the first Korean actor nominated for an acting Oscar and the third East Asian woman nominated (the others being Japanese actresses Rinko Kikuchi and Miyoshi Umeki).

This year also marks the second time ever with more than one Black nominee in Best Actress, with both Viola Davis (Ma Rainey) and Andra Day (The United States vs. Billie Holiday). The only other time this happened was in 1972 when both Cicely Tyson (Sounder) and Diana Ross (Lady Sings the Blues) were nominated. In an incredible coincidence, both Ross and Day are nominated for playing the same role: Billie Holiday.

Between the five of them, the films nominated in Best Visual Effects have a total of seven nominations, the lowest for that category since 2007, when there were only three films nominated.

On that same note, Billie Holiday is now the sixth historical figure to earn multiple actors Oscar nominations in different films. The others are King Henry VIII (Charles Laughton in 1933′s The Private Life of Henry VIII, Robert Shaw in 1966′s A Man for All Seasons, and Richard Burton in 1969′s Anne of the Thousand Days), Queen Elizabeth I (Cate Blanchett in 1998′s Elizabeth and 2007′s Elizabeth: The Golden Age and Judi Dench in 1998′s Shakespeare in Love), Abraham Lincoln (Raymond Massey in 1940′s Abe Lincoln in Illinois and Daniel Day-Lewis in 2012′s Lincoln), Howard Hughes (Jason Robards in 1980′s Melvin and Howard and Leonardo DiCaprio in 2004′s The Aviator), and Richard Nixon (Anthony Hopkins in 1995′s Nixon and Frank Langella in 2008′s Frost/Nixon). Holiday is the first Black person to receive this distinction.

At 83, Anthony Hopkins (The Father) is the oldest Best Actor nominee in Oscar history. He is also the first person to get back-to-back acting nominations in his 80s and only the third actor in history to receive more than one acting nomination in his 80s, joining the likes of Jessica Tandy and Christopher Plummer.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom marks the third time ever that Best Actor and Best Actress both have Black nominees from the same film. The other two are Sounder (1972, with Paul Winfield and Cicely Tyson) and What’s Love Got to Do with It (1993, with Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett). Of the three films, only Sounder made it into the Best Picture category.

Judas and the Black Messiah is the first Best Picture nominee with an all-Black producing team.

Thomas Vinterberg scored a surprise Best Director nomination for Another Round, which makes him the first Danish filmmaker to receive an Oscar nomination. Another Round is now only the third film in history to be nominated for Best DIrector and no other non-Foreign Language Film categories, along with Hiroshi Teshigahara’s Woman in the Dunes (1965) and Federico Fellini’s Fellini Satyricon (1970).

Amanda Seyfried (Mank) is the second Mean Girl to be nominated for an Oscar, joining Rachel McAdams. None for Gretchen Weiners, indeed.

With the nominations for Maria Bakalova and for Adapted Screenplay, Borat becomes the eighth film franchise to ever receive multiple nominations in above-the-line Oscar categories, joining The Godfather series, the Toy Story series, the Before... series, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Rocky/Creed series, and the pairs of Going My Way/The Bells of St. Mary’s and Elizabeth/Elizabeth: The Golden Age.

After the Macedonian film Honeyland became the first film in Oscar history to be nominated in both Best International Feature and Best Documentary Feature, the Romanian documentary Collective became the second film to earn this distinction this year.

The White Tiger continues the 20-year-old trend of there being at least one film that receives a screenplay nomination and nothing else.

Terence Blanchard (Da 5 Bloods) is the first Black composer to receive multiple nominations.

Sound of Metal is the third Best Picture nominee in the last 20 years to have its world premiere the year before its American Oscar-qualifying release. The other two are Best Picture winners The Hurt Locker (which premiered at the Venice Film Festival in 2008) and Crash (which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2004).

Mank is the third black-and-white film to be nominated in Best Makeup and Hairstyling, and the first since Ed Wood in 1994.

This is only the third time that all five of the Best Actor nominees were nominated alongside co-stars. This previously happened in 1991 and 2013.

#oscars #trivia #oscars 2021

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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why don’t you love me | taeyong

title: why don’t you love me pairing: taeyong x black!reader genre: angst, some fluff request: “Taeyong is dating a black girl who SM doesn’t know about and they get into an argument because they’ve been dating for 2 years and he hasn’t told any of the members of NCT . She wants to break up but he doesn’t want to let her go. She accidentally meets Jaehyun and they become friends(Taeyong doesn’t know) and he wants to introduce her to the members so she decides to use this as an opportunity to meet them so Taeyong can crack and tell them about her which he still won’t do out of fear. ❤️” word count: 3.3k warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic, one tiny mention of sex a/n: i’m not sure if reader meeting jaehyun is realistic, but i wasn’t sure how else to do it since no one at SM knows she exists...don’t clown the music choices plz, i had to look thru my own playlists for this 💀 the ending of this fic has me so shook tbh, i’d have to fight

When you open the door, Taeyong stands before you looking sheepish. “Hi, Y/N. I’m sorry I’m late. I was with the guys today.” You immediately roll your eyes at that and walk away from the entrance, throwing your hands up. Taeyong closes the door behind him and trails in behind you to the kitchen.

“On one of your very few days off? You’re with them everyday. You couldn’t tell them you had other plans? Or even that you have a girlfriend to see?” You turn to look at Taeyong again, crossing your arms. Your body language is already telling him you don’t want to hear more of his excuses. He tries to reach out to you, though you step away from his touch.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping with the knowledge that you’re not going to let this go easily. “They don’t know about us, I can’t exactly—”

“Yes, because you’ve never told them. Or anyone. I’m getting tired of this.” You lean back against the kitchen island, giving him an unimpressed look. “Do you think I enjoy living like some shameful secret?”

“I’m not ashamed of you, and you know it.” You’re not sure about that, actually. “If SM finds out, they’re not going to be happy, and going public is out of the question.” You suck your teeth at that.

“I’ve never asked you about going public; I don’t need or want that. However, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to meet the other men you spend 95% of your time with. God forbid I want to meet the people you refer to as your family.”

Taeyong chews his lips, mulling over your words but feeling too powerless and afraid to do anything about them. Then he sighs and shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. “I just...if gets out, somehow...my career…you know there’s already been so much. A dating scandal would be…”

“I think it’s clearly about more than that,” you argue, your eyebrows drawing together. “You just don’t want anyone to know about me because I’m black.”

“Stop saying that! If I cared about that, I wouldn’t be with you in the first place.”

“Because that’s such a reassurance? Instead, I get to sit up here like the woman in the attic and be hidden away from your friends and family. What a life! Maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

At this, Taeyong’s anxiety becomes almost palpable. “I—what are you saying? You can’t—”

“I can do whatever I want, Taeyong.”

“I don’t want us to break up,” Taeyong argues, his tone becoming more desperate. “I—I can find a way to tell the guys, just...please don’t leave me.”

You give him a long stare. “Quit with the last-ditch attempts to get me to stay. I don’t want you to say that just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“What else can I say? I want you in my life. I need you here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Taeyong’s eyes become shiny with tears, which you wish you could ignore, but there is still a part of you that loves him and doesn’t want to see him hurt. Even if it’s hurting you too.

Taeyong gets closer to you, and you allow him to pull you into something of a hug. His head slumps to your shoulder, leaning heavily on you, and you can smell the scent of his shampoo in his hair.

“Do you really still love me?” you ask him softly, next to his ear. “Really love me. Don’t tell me you want me next to you just because you’re afraid to be alone.”

He squeezes you more tightly around the waist and lifts his head back up to look you in the eyes. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You have to trust me…”

“Then show me,” you respond. Your patience has been steadily wearing thin, and you are past the point where nice words can get you to be complacent. You wonder if Taeyong has even noticed that—how close you are to the breaking point.

He nods slightly to your words, his lips drawing into a thin line and his eyes heavy with stress. He tries his luck with a kiss, but you turn your head and his lips land on your cheek. “Maybe you should just leave,” you say quietly. The words make you feel cold and alone, but you’re sure you’d still feel that way even if Taeyong stayed. He sags a little but doesn’t fight you on it, instead letting you go and stepping backwards.

He seems unsure what to say for a few moments, and then he nods to himself. “I’ll leave. But please don’t give up on me.” He leaves you with those words lingering in the air—words you’d like to put your belief in.

It’s been a week since you and Taeyong last met up in person. You’ve texted sporadically in the time between then, but you haven’t wanted to say much to him, and he already knows he can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.

You decide to head out for a day all to yourself as a way to de-stress, though it doesn’t really help. Everywhere you go there are couples, out and about and holding hands without a care in the world. You only wish you could do the same. You haven’t known what that’s like since your last relationship before Taeyong, and the thought of going without that kind of open and unafraid affection for 2 whole years makes you more angry and sad.

You end up in a nearby clothing store, looking through the racks of outfits and subconsciously wondering which ones Taeyong would like. You roll your eyes at this, still unable to get him completely off your mind even though you don’t want to be thinking about him right now.

You end up leaving that store and going to another one nearby—which is a tiny record shop that sells vinyls all the way up from the 1940s to now. You’ve been here a handful of times before, though it’s been a while since your last visit. To your surprise, the clerk still remembers you, waving happily when you enter.

Besides the cashier, you don’t pay much attention to anyone else in the store, only concerned about getting what you want so you can get out and go back home. Your mind is endlessly stressed about Taeyong and his lack of action. Even though you still love him, you don’t know how much more of this you can take. Your resentment only grows, which propels you to want to call things off before they get worse for the both of you.

Worse, indeed. You’re not sure how it can get much worse than your boyfriend acting like you don’t exist, though you’re not willing to try and find out.

You leave the store after making your purchase, ready to go back home and wallow some more, but before you’re fully out the door, someone hurriedly taps you on the shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you, but you dropped this.” You turn around to see a guy holding your sunglasses out to you, which surprises you because you hadn’t even heard them fall off your bag. But more importantly, you’re shocked to see that the guy is Jaehyun, Taeyong’s groupmate. Though he’s wearing the classic kpop idol disguise, you can still tell it’s him.

“Oh—thank you…�� You take the glasses from his grasp, still looking at him with a bit of incredulity. You weren’t expecting to see him in this place. You didn’t even notice him in the store.

Jaehyun sees your recognition of him and gives an embarrassed smile, which makes his eyes crinkle above the mask. “Let’s keep this between us, yeah? Better not to draw attention here…”

“Oh, no, I was just surprised you would even be into...” you glance at the store’s sign, which is just above you, “...vinyls?” You say this somewhat sarcastically, not wanting him to think you’re some starstruck fan.

“Do I not seem like that kind of person?” Jaehyun smiles politely and glances to the bag in your hands, the cover of the vinyl album showing through the translucent material. “I just recently heard that one; it’s really good.”

“Really?” You look at the album, which is the record Through Water from Låpsley. “This one’s kind of obscure…”

“Obscure is good too. You find lots of hidden gems in places you didn’t expect.” You nod at that, but the way he’s looking at you makes you think he isn’t entirely talking about the music, and that makes the back of your neck sweat.

“Uh...no, of course. I get it. I was going to get something from The Internet but this caught my eye so…”

“Seems we have similar taste...I wouldn’t mind if you showed me some more of your favorites. I’m always looking for new music. Maybe next time?”

“Next time…?”

Jaehyun nods. “Whenever I swing back around here...who knows. Tuesday? Wednesday? Maybe I’ll come by on a Saturday afternoon and see you here.” It’s an invitation. Maybe not a direct one—he says it like a suggestion—but he is making it known he’d like to meet up again.

Still a bit confused by this sudden encounter, you simply nod. “I’ll keep that in mind, then?” He flashes you a thumbs up before heading off in the other direction, shooting you another quick look over his shoulder before going off on his way.

You walk back to your own place feeling bewildered at the coincidence of it all, and wondering if you should mention it to Taeyong. But what for? You’re still mad with him, and you don’t even know what would come of it. Maybe more of the same—nothing at all.

To your surprise, Jaehyun is actually at the record shop when he said he would be—that Saturday around 2 p.m., flipping through the different albums. You’d managed to talk yourself into thinking he was just playing around, but here he is.

“So you were serious,” you say, walking up behind him. He turns around to meet your eyes, smiling beneath his mask at the sound of your voice.

“Nice to see you again, stranger.” That reminds you; he still doesn’t know your name.

“It’s Y/N.” You stand beside him, looking at the section of records he’s browsing through. All of them are more modern picks, released within the last 5 years. “What are you looking for today?”

He hums throughtfully. “Not sure. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, but if you know anything…”

“Maybe.” You look through the records for something interesting before pulling out one from Toni Braxton, Spell My Name. “Have you heard this one?” Jaehyun looks up to see what you’ve picked, then shakes his head no. You pass it to him and he looks over the cover, then turns it over to read the tracklist. “I like it. Might wanna save it for when you wanna get in your feelings, though.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Also, if you like more indie rock stuff, this is pretty good too.” You hold up a vinyl of The Driver Era’s album, X.

Jaehyun’s eyes light up at that suggestion. “Ah, I’ve wanted to get into this group but it keeps slipping my mind.” He takes that record too.

“What about you? Show me something you like.” Jaehyun nods and walks further into the aisles, and you follow. You notice he’s heading for the section of older albums. “Oh, the oldies, I see. A man of refined taste,” you say, laughing to yourself.

“This one’s the best.” Jaehyun points to one album that’s displayed on the shop wall along with a collection of other records—Chet Baker Sings. Below each album is a rack stacked with copies of the vinyls, and you pull one out to look at it more closely.

“Jazz, huh? I’m not too familiar with this artist, but I’ll trust your judgement; you’re the singer here, after all.”

You and Jaehyun go around the store looking at a few more things before buying your chosen albums. You end up getting more than you expected, but Jaehyun offers to pay—which you’re flustered and surprised by. The cashier giggles at your reluctance to accept, but you end up allowing him to pay for half.

“Well...that was fun!” You let out a breath after you’ve both left the store, lingering around the front of it.

Jaehyun nods his agreement, then hesitates before saying, “Would you like to stay in touch?”

You raise your eyebrows at that, the corner of your mouth lifting in something of a smirk. “I have a boyfriend, so if you’re looking for a romantic prospect…”

Jaehyun shakes his head, his cheeks coloring pink. “No, not like that! I just thought it’d be nice to get to know each other, you know, since we like the same music and all…”

“If you insist!” You tell him your number so he can put it into his phone. He texts you to make sure he’s got the right number, and so you can add his number to your own phone. “So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?”

He grins, and you can imagine how his dimples must appear under the mask. “Of course.”

You and Jaehyun get closer over the next few weeks, though he still doesn’t know you’re Taeyong’s girlfriend, and Taeyong remains equally clueless about your developing friendship with his groupmate. You’ve scarcely seen Taeyong’s face within that same timeframe, other than a few video calls—and one night when he showed up at your place tipsy and managed to talk his way into your bed.

You haven’t directly lied about anything, but you also haven’t felt the need to tell Jaehyun who you really are—not if Taeyong seems to think it doesn’t matter. Besides, you still want Taeyong to say it for himself.

You don’t consider yourself as cheating on him and have no intentions of doing so, but you like being around someone who doesn’t seem to be embarrassed or hesitant about going places with you.

One day when you’re hanging out with Jaehyun, he brings up an idea that makes your eyebrows rise. “Wouldn’t it be cool if you met the rest of the guys? What would you think of that?” he proposes.

This suggestion gets the gears in your head turning. Taeyong would inevitably be there, which would be an easy gateway for him to introduce you as his girlfriend. He’d have no other choice—not with you right in front of his face. Plus, you are curious about getting to know the other members, not knowing much about them other than Taeyong’s anecdotes and the few tidbits Jaehyun has mentioned in passing.

“Really? I don’t know, you're all pretty busy, so it’ll be hard to gather in one place…” You’re hoping your reverse psychology works so he’ll take the bait and come up with a solution to this apparent “dilemma.” Thankfully, he does.

“Well, you don’t have to meet all of them at once,” he suggests. “But if you want, you could come visit after practice or something…”

“I’d like that. Yes, I could do that. If that’s okay with you guys.”

Jaehyun grins, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, I think that would be fun.”

The day of your visit with NCT 127 comes up on you before you know it, and you’re more nervous than you can remember being in a while. You have no clue how Taeyong will react, but you can only hope things don’t go completely left. In your mind, this is the only option left for the both of you, since he refuses to take the initiative himself.

What you do know, though, is that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You can’t go wrong with bringing food to a bunch of hungry men who’ve just finished dance practice.

In the practice room, the boys hang out huddled together in little groups, taking a break from practicing for their upcoming comeback. They usually would’ve called out for food at this point, but Jaehyun has already let them know he has a friend coming who’s bringing something to eat. The other 8 boys wait somewhat impatiently for your arrival, as Jaehyun left earlier to let you into the SM building.

“I wonder who’s this friend Jaehyun’s bringing,” Doyoung says. “He’s really excited about it. She must be quite special.”

“For real! Whenever he mentions her he gets the same smile he always does whenever he meets another girl he thinks is gonna be The One,” Haechan says sarcastically. “Let’s see how long it takes before he fucks it up this time.”

“Aw, that’s messed up,” Mark says, though he has to stifle a snort of laughter.

The boys cheer when Jaehyun finally comes back to the room with you and the food in tow. You try to calm your racing heart as you face the room full of men, including your boyfriend—who’s just caught sight of you.

Taeyong’s eyes are confused, panicked, and pitiful as he looks at you. He tries to keep his demeanor indifferent so the other members won’t notice anything suspicious, but he doesn’t believe he’s doing a very good job of hiding the cracks. His chest tightens with anxiety as he observes you and Jaehyun standing next to each other.

How do you even know each other? Why did you never mention it? Does Jaehyun know? Perhaps most importantly of all, what should Taeyong do? He loves you—at least he believes he does, though you haven’t seemed very convinced of it lately. He doesn’t know how to admit it out loud to anyone else, though, and now it seems even more complicated than before.

Taeyong hangs back a bit as the others introduce themselves to you individually. Johnny and Jaehyun give him slightly odd looks, wondering about the reason behind his tense expression.

There’s nowhere left to hide when Taeyong is the only one left who hasn’t introduced himself.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to introduce you as his girlfriend, though to the rest of the men it only looks like you’re waiting for him to acknowledge your presence with a greeting. There’s an undeniable tension in the room as you and Taeyong practically stare each other down, though no one is quite bold enough to directly address it.

His stomach is nothing but a collection of knots now. He thinks about just saying it, but a vice-like sense of fear has him pinned. He thinks he can feel a headache building behind his temples.

Finally, Taeyong cracks a strained smile and holds his hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Taeyong, leader of NCT 127.”

Your heart and stomach drop to your feet, and your hands tremble a little. Your face falters, though you try to disguise it, your mouth drawing into a tight, closed grin. In that moment, you make your decision. You take Taeyong’s hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary. He winces, the back of his neck burning. “It’s nice to meet you, Taeyong.”

When your hand leaves his, Taeyong feels as if a huge dark cloud has just crossed over him. His stomach twists with dread as he watches you turn to Jaehyun without a second glance, talking to the younger man casually about the food you’ve brought. Something about the gesture feels undeniably final, and he knows you’ve just slipped out of his life.

#nct 127 #taeyong fic #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fic #ambw fic #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines #kpop ambw #ambw #lee taeyong #superm scenarios #superm imagines #nct scenarios #nct imagines #superm fic #nct fic

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luminarai · 4 years

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I’ve been thinking about the old guard and music. Obviously we have a little insight into Nile’s taste in music but what about the other ones? And how does immortality affect their relationship with music?

- Joe definitely has the broadest taste in music. He actively seeks out culture and music wherever they go and although he gravitates towards a strong vocal or powerful lyrics is willing to give anything a listen. Will ask you for your favourites and actually listen to them. Has Thoughts and Feelings about the intrinsic link between music and humanity. Plays several instruments too and can carry a tune. Great dancer. Has accidentally inspired several songs through the years. I think he and Nile would bond over modern music and he’d be so thrilled to have someone who has an different perspective and insight into music and how it’s part of culture today. She teaches him to make and share playlists and it makes his entire year. Specifically he makes Nile a playlist of things he thinks she’d like and although it’s full of stuff that she’s never heard (like Belgian hip-hop and Algerian raï) she’s surprised at how much she loves all of it. He also makes Nicky the longest, most romantic sex jams playlist known to mankind because of course he does

- Nicky appreciates music but doesn’t seek it out as actively as Joe. Rarely sings but has a lovely voice. If you ask him about it he’ll shrug and go on a deep dive about liturgical music and the importance of singing in the Catholic Church. He mostly gravitates towards instrumentals or songs with interesting rhythms but a beautifully arranged choral composition can definitely still make him misty eyed. Finds out he really likes podcasts after Nile joins the group and the two of them will listen to that when they go on long drives. Once or twice a century he’ll get weirdly into an extremely niche genre - when they were working in Berlin in the late 80s there was a whole Thing about underground techno. Although he’s learned several classical dances over the years he enjoys how modern music and dancing is a lot more about natural rhythms and instinct. Is a bit self conscious about dancing but surprisingly good at it once you get a few shots in him and Joe with him on the dance floor

- while Booker is more interested in literature as a rule he does like music and in particular melodramatic, emotional ballads. He tries not to be a French stereotype but songs in his native language hit different for him. Once snuck out to see Édith Piaf live in Paris in the late 1940s and the only person who knows about it is Joe and only because he was also at the show. Will get pissy about the others joking about how his favourite singer must be Celine Dion but does actually love her and will vehemently defend her talent. Has an actual, secret iPod stashed away somewhere with an eclectic mix of 80s power ballads, pop divas, 00s emo music, musicals, and recordings of the traditional songs he grew up with. Also has boxes of LP’s in different safe houses and happily teaches Nile how to play them. Actually watches music videos. Has a pleasant mellow, low singing voice but very rarely dances anymore

- Andy doesn’t really care about music - it’s not that she dislikes it but she’s seen so many styles and genres and artists come and go that not much stands out to her or, more specifically, is worth remembering the specifics of. She’s fine with mostly whatever. Is a good dancer but cannot sing to save her life although she has the breath control and vocal projection of an opera singer. Something about shouting across battlefields while engaged with multiple opponents for several millennia apparently does that to you. Does however know approximately 8 billion more or less filthy drinking songs. Takes great relish in teaching Nile all of them. Is not allowed the aux cord anymore because she will literally put on anything and there’s only so much traditional Balkan folk music mixed with nintendocore mixed with Finnish heavy metal mixed with fucking Raffi that a group of immortals can take without suffering a collective nervous breakdown. She only does it to fuck with them about 50 percent of the time

#the old guard #tog #headcanon #nile freeman #joe al-kaysani #nicky di genova #sebastian le livre #booker #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #these assholes have so many names tho #long post #feel free to add your takes too! xoxo your local music nerd #the idea of the tog fam bonding with their newest member over music just gets me *heart eyes*

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guigz1-coldwar · 2 years

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"England's Jewel": New chapter for "The City of Angels: Under the Skin" is out!

Chapter Summary: After hearing the news from commissioner Sims, Bell reviews the files he sends her about Maxis & Miss Park before going to visit the latter at the Paramount Studios, Hollywood's heart...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart, @chrystallenex ------------------------------------------------------------------------

What a day...what a day...I didn't even go out of my own apartment that it was already looking promising & filled with surprises, to be honest. At first, the commissioner gave me the great news about the files I asked him yesterday, the first time since we know each other that he went pretty fast on this, the longest time he took him was almost a week but with him, I know that he was keeping his promises of giving me what I need even if his job is on the line, helping someone like me is risky but always worth it if I'm bringing the results. The other main thing...was this letter from Miss Park...saying so good from me and...proposing me to join her to talk more about this case to the Paramount Studios.

It was a chance for me to talk with her, even if I was still troubled by the love feelings towards her and the need for me to control myself when she's around me so I decided to take it. However, I think I had something else to do before going to her, the files that Sims sent me were needed to be checked. There's much to learn about Maxis' situation but also about knowing more of Miss Park and her past, causing me to take back my usual morning routine...shower, breakfast, and then, I was out of my apartment to cross the street and get to my office.

Sims was right about giving me the files so fast, they were disposed of on the ground just in the front of the door, having surely been given below the door as I always locked down my office. Two files, both with notes telling me which file was on Maxis, the other on Miss Park, the handwritten from Sims with another note saying to me about taking care of myself & not getting killed like always...like always. I posed the files on my desk, took off my jacket, and certainly begin my work to know more about the two...surely gonna take half a day to analyze everything.

My first goal was to get through Maxis' records, trying to know more about this german woman more closely. Full name's Samantha Maxis, her date of birth is actually unknown but must be in her late 20's-early 30's, born in the German Empire, unknown family, said to have fleed Germany in 1940 after an unexplained event near Munich, joined first London before moving to the US, first living on the East Coast in New York and then moving here in Los Angeles 2 years ago after again, an unexplained event...her life is here was pretty simple, she was seeming calm & pretty nice from what the police was saying on her, just a story about a redlight but nothing else until her disappearance a few days ago...there's also something about her...her left cheek showing three scars...nothing was mentioned that from her...maybe one of those unknown events...took an hour at least to work on her file...time for miss Park.

Well, her file was seeming longer than Maxis' one but that's what intrigued me about her, I was having a deep feeling of knowing more about the woman that I have had in my head since I meet her...okay, let's begin. Full name's Helen A. Park, born in Reading, England in 1922...oh, like my own...except that I was born in Chicago, very different. Her family was coming from the middle society, all having links to the military. It is said that she got a short service...into the MI6?...she never mentioned this to me...happened between 1940 and 1944 but she wasn't doing anything important...okay, sounds very...intriguing to say. She left that service that year before starting to be an actress, becoming a little famous in England before it grow big in Hollywood who did its magic on her and now, here we are...a famous British actress who's linked to a criminal case...very, very intriguing.

When I closed down Miss Park's records file, two hours passed after I was taking notes of everything that was said in the official police records and sometimes, trying to have a break by understanding this mess of a case on a dashboard with everything on it...hmm...I wonder how this MI6 story found itself in that file, it's not something that's spoken loudly around. Maybe I should ask Sims this the next time I got the chance to talk to him. Once I was done with all of this part, I realized that the afternoon was almost ending...shit, I need to go to the Paramount Studios, miss Park's proposition.

I quickly put my jacket on, took my working tools before leaving my office to join my car and then, the L.A.traffic, going to drive through the town to reach the movie studios. During my drive, I needed to think about something and that something was about how I was going to enter the movies studios. Did miss Park talk about me going to pay her a visit? Did she not? Well, it's a bit risky of me to go at the front entrance but I wasn't seeing myself sneaking my way inside...fuck me, I'm gonna go in there straight, I'm gonna think of a lie that can help me to get in, pretty sure that it can work.

"It's gonna work," I muttered to myself at the moment the front entrance of the studios was in my sight, seeing from afar the guard post in front of it between the two gates. "It will work," I added as I was pulling off slowly with my car at the gates, stopping it in front of one of them. My eyes were looking around before seeing a guard coming from the post.

"Hello," The guard started, his voice muffled as he was knocking at my window that I soon open right after he was done. "Do you have an authorization?" He asked me, his left arm moving over the roof of my car.

"I'm here to see Miss Helen Park," I replied to him.

"Are you a fan of her?" He demanded in a little laugh.

"No, I'm working for her," I responded, my hands drifting to my right as I took one of my random work files with me about the case and quickly show it to him, not really letting to see what was written on it. "You heard of that boxer manager who hanged himself?" I wondered, staying to the 'official' version of what the newspapers said about the case.

"Yes, Joe Dunn...the guy that was supposed to support Maxis' girl for that match, bets are all going crazy for it," He told me, acknowledging that this event was pretty big... a lot of money to say...interesting. "Even if the guy put a rope around his neck, everyone wants to see that fight," He added.

"Good to know," I whispered with a little nod.

"So...what's the link with Helen Park?" He finally asked me this, curious. "The guy was her lover or something like that?"

"No...it's way complicated but he was a friend of hers & vice-versa," I briefly mentioned, not saying too much on this, adding to this a gesture with my hands to explain myself. "I'm actually working for..." I stopped myself to take a breath. "Well, you know Russell Adler?"

"Yes, he's basically the guy in charge of Helen Park," He revealed to me, proving that Adler can be controlling each action that miss Park does...bad for him he couldn't control her last night.

"Well, I'm working for him, he ordered me to act as a bodyguard for miss Park, he told me that she didn't want anyone near her but you know, security first," I gave up the lie I was thinking along the drive to her...I wasn't lying about working for Adler on that case but the lie is that I was saying to really work with Adler in his group...hope it will work. "I'm not sure that he will be happy to know that she was left without anyone to watch her & bring her back," I assumed to him with a shrug and a smirk, looking threatening in my tone.

"Uhm...you're right,' He murmured, his right hand passing through his forehead before he steps behind him, turning around towards the guard post. "John, you can open the gate, she's with Adler," He announced, giving me the fact that Adler is very well known from the employees here...good to know that. "Have a good day, ma'am,"

"Thank you," I nodded at him, waving at me before the gate in front of my car was starting to open and once they were fully opened, I could enter the famous Paramount Studios...Hollywood's heart to say, the very place the movies of cinemas are made...

I had never actually been there in all of the cases I did in the past, even if it was to visit it like a tourist, I didn't have time to play that role because of my work but today is a bit different, I finally got to visit that place four years after I arrived here, going now for the city's main culture: movies. I parked my car on the nearest parking place I could find before continuing my way deeper into the movie studios, now searching for the precise Studio 13 that miss Park wrote in that letter, her letter that I kept with me in my jacket since I left my apartment.

As I was walking between the sorts of hangars on the main road, I was thinking to enter a world I have never got the chance to visit, seeing an East Coast decor in a hangar and in another one, a western decor...everything can be created in that world, sounds very...full of dreams...that can resume the country, the whole city can be a dream that sometimes doesn't look very good, I know that well. Finally, I found the famous studio 13 and by looking at it, it was the busiest working one with more people than the other hangars...'The English Jewel'...that was written on some furniture around...interesting.

No one minded me when I entered the hangar, all busy doing their things before discovering the interior...the movie decor was looking like a jungle...a sort of temple ruins and by a closer look, I think it wasn't the moment for anyone to make a noise, there were like a scene getting filmed here. By looking closely at the scene, I wasn't able to find Miss Park, just seeing two actors fighting...badly...shit, have to ask for someone where's miss Park, don't want to watch this 'fight' too long. There was a woman standing afar from the group near the scene...gonna ask her...

"Excuse me?" I announced myself in a low voice, the woman directly turning her head at me away from the scene. "Do you know where's Miss Park?"

"Miss Park?" I nodded at her. "She finished her scenes for today, she's in her room before she leaves," She replied to me, soon leaning on her right side to show me a direction. "It's this way, you will see her door," She pointed out behind me, towards access apart from the movie decor.

"Thank you," I said with a smile, preparing to leave.

"Excuse me but you're not from here, right?" The woman stopped me by asking that question...sure that a woman dressed differently from the movie crew and asking questions isn't common.

"I'm...miss Park assistant, I was hired by mister Russell Adler to keep an eye on her," I gave out a second different lie from my first one, hoping this one will work.

"Oh, I see, I'm sorry," She apologized, showing me again the direction I need to take.

"It's okay, I'm leaving you, thank you again," I nodded at her with a small smile before turning to walk away in the direction she pointed at me...damn, really everyone is knowing Adler here, it's surely the best excuse to use to get past through some of the big problems I'm facing...good. Walking away from that scene to get closer to miss Park, what a day, what a day. Okay, deep breath & better self-control, I'm gonna need it now as I was arriving exactly at miss Park's room, her door with her name on it...deep breath, deep breath, self-control..."Here we go," I muttered to myself before I knocked over on the door two times.

"Yes?" I heard a muffled voice behind the door...hers...

"It's...miss Bell, the detective," I declared, my left hand getting positioned over the door handle, ready to open it. "You told me to meet you here for further talks so...here I am," I added, wanting to remind her in case she forgot.

"You can come in," She told me, prompting me to take a breath and then, open the door...the first thing I saw was...her, sitting down on a chair in front of a mirror whose I was able to see myself in it...and her too. "Miss Blackwell, it's so nice to you," She said, her voice meaning it as a smile appeared on her face...self-control, here you go.

"I can say the same for you," I exclaimed, closing the door behind me, my eyelids almost going wide at hearing myself. "I was a bit surprised this morning, I thought that you coming to my place was a dream," I turned back around to face her, her hands at her face as she was holding something to clean her face.

"And as you now believe, it wasn't, right?" She guessed, her knowing well that it wasn't a dream, just affirming it to me.

"I didn't expect your lips on the letter," I said, taking out the letter off my jacket before moving towards her, my right hand holding the letter and showing it to me. "Let me guess...you used a Russian red lipstick?" I presumed.

"Yeah, I love this one...you're very good on this," She affirmed, sounding amazed that I managed to recognize the lipstick she used on it...I don't even remember how I guessed it out, I couldn't have found it like that. I put down the letter on the table in front of her. "Oh, you can keep it, it's my gift for you," She proposed and the blush came back, a little this time.

"If you wish," I whispered, moving back to take the letter back with me before going to lean on the wall next to her, keeping my eyes on her. "So...the English Jewel...that's the movie you're doing?" I demanded, my curiosity having been on this name at the moment I first saw it.

"Yes and honestly, I would have preferred to not be in it, it's Adler who forced me to take the role," She sighed, putting down her thing on the table to look at herself in the mirror. "Playing a damsel in distress before being saved by the adventurer, that's not my favorite thing," She added.

"Why?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Because of the forced romance, the actor who plays the hero is...how should I say?" She started, her eyes slightly going up to think, followed by her right index finger.

"An asshole?" I proposed

"I would have a say...a wanker but yes, an asshole," She agreed on this...not sure that this movie is really great for her by that fact. "He's a guy who's in love for me, Adler got him to play the hero so he can be closer to me...even today, he wanted me to train with him for our final kiss...what an idiot," She mumbled before shaking her head, seeing her hair moves in a beautiful gesture. "Boys aren't really my type," She added, suddenly feeling a big surprise in me...okay..."Sometimes, I prefer the company of a woman,"

"Me too," I said without realizing it, directly turning my head away from her, the blush getting a bit... redder...shit, why did I say that?..."Uhm...yeah..." I tried to say, moving to scratch the back of my head with my right hand.

"I understand, don't worry," She assured me, not sure if it's something to help me in here now.

"Well, that movie is right about one thing if that's the case," I went on telling this like that...I don't even know if I was really saying this to her now. "If that's the case, you must be the English Jewel," I announced in a proud tone in my voice before my hand decide to meet my face...oh shit, did I really say that?...

"Thank you, miss Blackwell, I'm very glad of this coming from you,' She affirmed...not helping my self-control now, I'm holding on but if I can't hold it, I'm gonna end up kissing her right now...keep calm, "Oh...I was thinking of this, I know that I propose you talk more about me & that case and...well, I have to wait for...Adler to come get me by one of his guards,"

"And?" I murmured.

"Well, I don't want to get picked up by any one of them...why don't you allow me to come with you to drive me away from here?" She proposed to me with her gentle voice, my eyes going wide at hearing this...going to my apartment, leaving me a proposition to have a talk with her & now, this?...what's that day? I'm dreaming, right? "So, what do you think?" She demanded, having turned her body towards me on her chair.

"Sounds great, that could help us...me about the case," I answered, giving my approval to drive her away from those movie studios instead of Adler's men doing it.

"Good, I'll grab my things, I hope that you're a good driver like you're a beautiful woman, miss Blackwell," She smiled at me as she was going up from her chair, making me blush again before she walked away, turning her back at me towards a little dressing, leaving me a few moments in my thoughts...oh damn...what's that day?...

Is she doing this on purpose because if she is....damn...that case is very...interesting to say...

#call of duty cold war #black ops cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war #cod cw #cod bocw #call of duty #cod #fem!bell #helen park #1940s au

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1962dude420-blog · 3 years

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Today we remember the passing of Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton who Died: July 25, 1984 in Los Angeles, California

Willie Mae Thornton (December 11, 1926 – July 25, 1984), better known as Big Mama Thornton, was an American rhythm-and-blues singer and songwriter. She was the first to record Leiber and Stoller's "Hound Dog", in 1952,which became her biggest hit, staying seven weeks at number one on the Billboard R&B chart in 1953 and selling almost two million copies. Thornton's other recordings included the original version of "Ball and Chain", which she wrote.

Her recording of Hound Dog, written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller in 1952, and later recorded by Elvis Presley, reached Number 1 on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart. According to Maureen Mahon, a music professor at New York University, "the song is seen as an important beginning of rock-and-roll, especially in its use of the guitar as the key instrument".

Thornton's birth certificate states that she was born in Ariton, Alabama, but in an interview with Chris Strachwitz, she claimed Montgomery, Alabama, as her birthplace, probably because Montgomery was better known than Ariton. She was introduced to music in a Baptist church, where her father was a minister and her mother a singer. She and her six siblings began to sing at early ages. Her mother died young, and Willie Mae left school and got a job washing and cleaning spittoons in a local tavern. In 1940 she left home and, with the help of Diamond Teeth Mary, joined Sammy Green's Hot Harlem Revue and was soon billed as the "New Bessie Smith". Her musical education started in the church but continued through her observation of the rhythm-and-blues singers Bessie Smith and Memphis Minnie, whom she deeply admired.

Thornton's career began to take off when she moved to Houston in 1948. "A new kind of popular blues was coming out of the clubs in Texas and Los Angeles, full of brass horns, jumpy rhythms, and wisecracking lyrics." In 1951 she signed a recording contract with Peacock Records and performed at the Apollo Theater in 1952. Also in 1952, while working with another Peacock artist Johnny Otis, she recorded "Hound Dog", the first record produced by its writers Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. The pair were present at the recording, with Leiber demonstrating the song in the vocal style they had envisioned; "We wanted her to growl it," Stoller said, which she did. Otis played drums, after the original drummer was unable to play an adequate part. The record sold more than half a million copies, and went to number one on the R&B chart, helping to bring in the dawn of rock 'n' roll. Although the record made Thornton a star, she saw little of the profits.

On Christmas Day 1954 in a theatre in Houston, Texas, she witnessed fellow performer Johnny Ace, also signed to Duke and Peacock record labels, accidentally shoot and kill himself while playing with a .22 pistol. Thornton continued to record for Peacock until 1957 and performed in R&B package tours with Junior Parker and Esther Phillips.

Thornton's success with "Hound Dog" was followed three years later by Elvis Presley recording his hit version of the song. His recording at first annoyed Leiber who wrote, "I have no idea what that rabbit business is all about. The song is not about a dog, it's about a man, a freeloading gigolo." But Elvis' version sold ten million copies, so today few fans know that "Hound Dog" began as "an anthem of black female power." Similarly, Thornton originally recorded her song "Ball 'n' Chain" for Bay-Tone Records in the early 1960s, "and though the label chose not to release the song... they did hold on to the copyright"—which meant that Thornton missed out on the publishing royalties when Janis Joplin recorded the song later in the decade. However, in a 1972 interview, Thornton acknowledged giving Joplin permission to record the song and receiving royalty payments from its sales.

As her career began to fade in the late 1950s and early 1960s, she left Houston and relocated to the San Francisco Bay area, "playing clubs in San Francisco and L.A. and recording for a succession of labels", notably the Berkeley-based Arhoolie Records. In 1965, she toured with the American Folk Blues Festival in Europe, where her success was notable "because very few female blues singers at that time had ever enjoyed success across the Atlantic." While in England that year, she recorded her first album for Arhoolie, Big Mama Thornton – In Europe. It featured backing by blues veterans Buddy Guy (guitar), Fred Below (drums), Eddie Boyd (keyboards), Jimmy Lee Robinson (bass), and Walter "Shakey" Horton (harmonica), except for three songs on which Fred McDowell provided acoustic slide guitar.

In 1966, Thornton recorded her second album for Arhoolie, Big Mama Thornton with the Muddy Waters Blues Band – 1966, with Muddy Waters (guitar), Sammy Lawhorn (guitar), James Cotton (harmonica), Otis Spann (piano), Luther Johnson (bass guitar), and Francis Clay (drums). She performed at the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1966 and 1968. Her last album for Arhoolie, Ball n' Chain, was released in 1968. It was made up of tracks from her two previous albums, plus her composition "Ball and Chain" and the standard "Wade in the Water". A small combo, including her frequent guitarist Edward "Bee" Houston, provided backup for the two songs. Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company's performance of "Ball 'n' Chain" at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 and the release of the song on their number one album Cheap Thrills renewed interest in Thornton's career.

By 1969, Thornton had signed with Mercury Records, which released her most successful album, Stronger Than Dirt, which reached number 198 in the Billboard Top 200 record chart. Thornton had now signed a contract with Pentagram Records and could finally fulfill one of her biggest dreams. A blues woman and the daughter of a preacher, Thornton loved the blues and what she called the "good singing" of gospel artists like the Dixie Hummingbirds and Mahalia Jackson. She had always wanted to record a gospel record, and with the album Saved (PE 10005), she achieved that longtime goal. The album includes the gospel classics "Oh, Happy Day," "Down By The Riverside," "Glory, Glory Hallelujah," "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands," "Lord Save Me," "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," "One More River" and "Go Down Moses".

By then, the American blues revival had come to an end. While the original blues acts like Thornton mostly played smaller venues, younger people played their versions of blues in massive arenas for big money. Since the blues had seeped into other genres of music, the blues musician no longer needed impoverishment or geography for substantiation; the style was enough. While at home the offers became fewer and smaller, things changed for good in 1972, when Thornton was asked to rejoin the American Folk Blues Festival tour. She thought of Europe as a good place for herself, and, with the lack of engagements in the United States, she agreed happily. The tour, beginning on March 2, took Thornton to Germany, France, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, the Netherlands, Denmark, Norway, Finland, and Sweden, where it ended on March 27 in Stockholm. With her on the bill were Eddie Boyd, Big Joe Williams, Robert Pete Williams, T- Bone Walker, Paul Lenart, Hartley Severns, Edward Taylor and Vinton Johnson. As in 1965, they garnered recognition and respect from other musicians who wanted to see them.

In the 1970s, years of heavy drinking began to damage Thornton's health. She was in a serious auto accident but recovered to perform at the 1973 Newport Jazz Festival with Muddy Waters, B.B. King, and Eddie "Cleanhead" Vinson (a recording of this performance, The Blues—A Real Summit Meeting, was released by Buddha Records). Thornton's last albums were Jail and Sassy Mama for Vanguard Records in 1975. Other songs from the recording session were released in 2000 on Big Mama Swings. Jail captured her performances during mid-1970s concerts at two prisons in the northwestern United States. She was backed by a blues ensemble that featured sustained jams by George "Harmonica" Smith and included the guitarists Doug MacLeod, Bee Houston and Steve Wachsman; the drummer Todd Nelson; the saxophonist Bill Potter; the bassist Bruce Sieverson; and the pianist J. D. Nicholson. She toured extensively through the United States and Canada, played at the Juneteenth Blues Fest in Houston and shared the bill with John Lee Hooker. She performed at the San Francisco Blues Festival in 1979 and the Newport Jazz Festival in 1980. In the early 1970s, Thornton's sexual proclivities became a question among blues fans. Big Mama also performed in the "Blues Is a Woman" concert that year, alongside classic blues legend Sippie Wallace, sporting a man's three-piece suit, straw hat, and gold watch. She sat at center stage and played pieces she wanted to play, which were not on the program. Thornton took part in the Tribal Stomp at Monterey Fairgrounds, the Third Annual Sacramento Blues Festival, and the Los Angeles Bicentennial Blues with BB King and Muddy Waters. She was a guest on an ABC-TV special hosted by actor Hal Holbrook and was joined by Aretha Franklin and toured through the club scene. She was also part of the award-winning PBS television special Three Generations of the blues with Sippie Wallace and Jeannie Cheatham.

Thornton was found dead at age 57 by medical personnel in a Los Angeles boarding house on July 25, 1984. She died of heart and liver disorders due to her longstanding alcohol abuse.

#July 25 #1984 #R.I.P.#Big Mama Thornton

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greatworldwar2 · 3 years

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• Hanna Reitsch

Hanna Reitsch was a German aviator and test pilot. Along with Melitta von Stauffenberg, she flight tested many of Germany's new aircraft during World War II and received many honors. She set more than 40 flight altitude records and women's endurance records in gliding and unpowered flight, before and after World War II.

Reitsch was born in Hirschberg, Silesia (today Jelenia Góra in Poland) on March 29th, 1912 to an upper-middle-class family. She was daughter of Dr. Wilhelm Willy Reitsch, who was ophthalmology clinic manager, and his wife Emy Helff-Hibler von Alpenheim, who was a member of the Catholic Austrian nobility. Hanna grew up with two siblings, her brother Kurt, a Frigate captain, and her younger sister Heidi. She began flight training in 1932 at the School of Gliding in Grunau. While a medical student in Berlin she enrolled in a German Air Mail amateur flying school for powered aircraft at Staaken, in a Klemm Kl 25. In 1933, Reitsch left medical school at the University of Kiel to become, at the invitation of Wolf Hirth, a full-time glider pilot/instructor at Hornberg in Baden-Württemberg. Reitsch contracted with the Ufa Film Company as a stunt pilot and set an unofficial endurance record for women of eleven hours and twenty minutes. In January 1934, she joined a South America expedition to study thermal conditions, along with Wolf Hirth, Peter Riedel and Heini Dittmar. While in Argentina, she became the first woman to earn the Silver C Badge, the 25th to do so among world glider pilots. In June 1934, Reitsch became a member of the Deutsche Forschungsanstalt für Segelflug (DFS) and became a test pilot in 1935. Reitsch enrolled in the Civil Airways Training School in Stettin, where she flew a twin-engine on a cross country flight and aerobatics in a Focke-Wulf Fw 44. At the DFS she test flew transport and troop-carrying gliders, including the DFS 230 used at the Battle of Fort Eben-Emael.

In September 1937, Reitsch was posted to the Luftwaffe testing centre at Rechlin-Lärz Airfield by Ernst Udet. Her flying skill, desire for publicity, and photogenic qualities made her a star of Nazi propaganda. Physically she was petite in stature, very slender with blonde hair, blue eyes and a "ready smile". She appeared in Nazi propaganda throughout the late 1930s and early 1940s. Reitsch was the first female helicopter pilot and one of the few pilots to fly the Focke-Achgelis Fa 61, the first fully controllable helicopter, for which she received the Military Flying Medal. In 1938, during the three weeks of the International Automobile Exhibition in Berlin, she made daily flights of the Fa 61 helicopter inside the Deutschlandhalle. In September 1938, Reitsch flew the DFS Habicht in the Cleveland National Air Races. Reitsch was a test pilot on the Junkers Ju 87 Stuka dive bomber and Dornier Do 17 light/fast bomber projects, for which she received the Iron Cross, Second Class, from Hitler on March 28th, 1941. Reitsch was asked to fly many of Germany's latest designs, among them the rocket-propelled Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet in 1942. A crash landing on her fifth Me 163 flight badly injured Reitsch; she spent five months in a hospital recovering. Reitsch received the Iron Cross First Class following the accident, one of only three women to do so.

In February 1943 after news of the defeat in the Battle of Stalingrad she accepted an invitation from Generaloberst Robert Ritter von Greim to visit the Eastern Front. She spent three weeks visiting Luftwaffe units, flying a Fieseler Fi 156 Storch. On February 28th, 1944, she presented the idea of Operation Suicide to Hitler at Berchtesgaden, which "would require men who were ready to sacrifice themselves in the conviction that only by this means could their country be saved." Although Hitler "did not consider the war situation sufficiently serious to warrant them...and...this was not the right psychological moment", he gave his approval. The project was assigned to Gen. Günther Korten. There were about seventy volunteers who enrolled in the Suicide Group as pilots for the human glider-bomb. By April 1944, Reitsch and Heinz Kensche finished tests of the Me 328, carried aloft by a Dornier Do 217. By then, she was approached by SS-Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny, a founding member of the SS-Selbstopferkommando Leonidas (Leonidas Squadron). They adapted the V-1 flying bomb into the Fieseler Fi 103R Reichenberg including a two-seater and a single-seater with and without the mechanisms to land. The plan was never implemented operationally, "the decisive moment had been missed."

In her autobiography Fliegen, mein Leben Reitsch recalled that after two initial crashes with the Fi 103R she and Heinz Kensche took over tests of the prototype Fi 103R. She made several successful test flights before training the instructors. "Though an average pilot could fly the V1 without difficulty once it was in the air, to land it called for exceptional skill, in that it had a very high landing speed and, moreover, in training it was the glider model, without engine, that was usually employed." In October 1944, Reitsch claims she was shown a booklet by Peter Riedel which he'd obtained while in the German Embassy in Stockholm, concerning the gas chambers. She further claims that while believing it to be enemy propaganda, she agreed to inform Heinrich Himmler about it. Upon doing so, Himmler is said to have asked whether she believed it, and she replied, "No, of course not. But you must do something to counter it. You can't let them shoulder this onto Germany." "You are right," Himmler replied. During the last days of the war, Hitler dismissed Hermann Göring as head of the Luftwaffe and appointed Reitsch's lover, von Greim, to replace him. Von Greim and Reitsch flew from Gatow Airport into embattled Berlin to meet Hitler in the Führerbunker, arriving on April 26th, as the Red Army troops were already in the central area of Berlin. Reitsch and von Greim had flown from Rechlin–Lärz Airfield to Gatow Airfield in a Focke Wulf 190, escorted by twelve other Fw 190s from Jagdgeschwader 26 under the command of Hauptmann Hans Dortenmann. In Berlin, Reitsch landed a Fi 156 Storch on an improvised airstrip in the Tiergarten near the Brandenburg Gate. Hitler gave Reitsch two capsules of poison for herself and von Greim. She accepted the capsule.

During the evening of April 28th, Reitsch flew von Greim out of Berlin in an Arado Ar 96 from the same improvised airstrip. This was the last plane out of Berlin. Von Greim was ordered to get the Luftwaffe to attack the Soviet forces that had just reached Potsdamer Platz and to make sure Heinrich Himmler was punished for his treachery in making unauthorised contact with the Western Allies so as to surrender. Troops of the Soviet 3rd Shock Army, which was fighting its way through the Tiergarten from the north, tried to shoot the plane down fearing that Hitler was escaping in it, but it took off successfully. Reitsch was soon captured along with von Greim and the two were interviewed together by U.S. military intelligence officers. When asked about being ordered to leave the Führerbunker on April 28th, 1945, Reitsch and von Greim reportedly repeated the same answer: "It was the blackest day when we could not die at our Führer's side." Reitsch also said: "We should all kneel down in reverence and prayer before the altar of the Fatherland." When the interviewers asked what she meant by "Altar of the Fatherland" she answered, "Why, the Führer's bunker in Berlin ..." She was held for eighteen months. Von Greim killed himself on May 24th, 1945. Evacuated from Silesia ahead of the Soviet troops, Reitsch's family took refuge in Salzburg. During the night of May 3rd, 1945, after hearing a rumour that all refugees were to be taken back to their original homes in the Soviet occupation zone, Reitsch's father shot and killed her mother and sister and her sister's three children before killing himself.

After her release Reitsch settled in Frankfurt am Main. After the war, German citizens were barred from flying powered aircraft, but within a few years gliding was allowed, which she took up again. In 1952, Reitsch won a bronze medal in the World Gliding Championships in Spain; she was the first woman to compete. In 1955 she became German champion. She continued to break records, including the women's altitude record (6,848 m (22,467 ft)) in 1957 and her first diamond of the Gold-C badge. During the mid-1950s, Reitsch was interviewed on film and talked about her wartime flight tests of the Fa 61, Me 262 and Me 163. In 1959, Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru invited Reitsch, who spoke fluent English, to start a gliding centre, and she flew with him over New Delhi. In 1961, United States President John F. Kennedy invited her to the White House. From 1962 to 1966, she lived in Ghana. The then Ghanaian President, Kwame Nkrumah invited Reitsch to Ghana after reading of her work in India. At Afienya she founded the first black African national gliding school, working closely with the government and the armed forces. The West German government supported her as technical adviser. Reitsch's attitudes to race underwent a change. "Earlier in my life, it would never have occurred to me to treat a black person as a friend or partner ..." She now experienced guilt at her earlier "presumptuousness and arrogance". She became close to Nkrumah. The details of their relationship are now unclear due to the destruction of documents, but some surviving letters are intimate in tone. In Ghana, some Africans were disturbed by the prominence of a person with Reitsch's past, but Shirley Graham Du Bois, a noted African-American writer who had emigrated to Ghana and was friendly towards Reitsch, agreed with Nkrumah that Reitsch was extremely naive politically. Throughout the 1970s, Reitsch broke gliding records in many categories, including the "Women's Out and Return World Record" twice, once in 1976 (715 km (444 mi)) and again, in 1979 (802 km (498 mi)), flying along the Appalachian Ridges in the United States. During this time, she also finished first in the women's section of the first world helicopter championships. Reitsch was interviewed and photographed several times in the 1970s, towards the end of her life, by Jewish-American photo-journalist Ron Laytner.

Reitsch died of a heart attack in Frankfurt at the age of 67, on August 24th, 1979. She had never married. She is buried in the Reitsch family grave in Salzburger Kommunalfriedhof. Former British test pilot and Royal Navy officer Eric Brown said he received a letter from Reitsch in early August 1979 in which she said, "It began in the bunker, there it shall end." Within weeks she was dead. Brown speculated that Reitsch had taken the cyanide capsule Hitler had given her in the bunker, and that she had taken it as part of a suicide pact with Greim. No autopsy was performed, or at least no such report is available.

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