#world war 2 tw

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I found one of the phones designed by post World War 2 German scientists that was made to talk to the dead. I had a really bad feeling, I wouldn't like what would happen after if I answered the ringing.

[theygender]

TLT fans: did you guys know about the real Wake? I hadn't heard about her until we covered World War II in my world civ class this semester

Nancy Grace Augusta Wake (1912-2011) was a covert operative who was at the top of the Nazi's most wanted list in WW2, nicknamed "The White Mouse" for her ability to repeatedly evade capture. She was born in New Zealand with Māori heritage, grew up in Australia, and joined the Resistance after traveling to Europe and witnessing the harsh treatment of Jews in Vienna by the Nazis

Wake worked in the Pat O'Leary Line escape network until her Resistance organization was compromised by the Germans in 1942. After that she fled on foot across the Pyrenees—with several close calls that she escaped by flirting with German soldiers—and made her way to England to join the Special Operations Executive. She was part of a three person team codenamed "Freelance" which parachuted into occupied France. During this operation she got stuck in a tree after her parachute became tangled in its branches. The local Resistance leader who found her reportedly said “I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year" to which she replied "Cut out that French bullshit and get me out of this tree"

While working in the Freelance operation Wake once biked 500 km (310 mi) without stopping in the span of 72 hours across Nazi territory to retrieve a new radio and codes after her team's were destroyed in a Gestapo raid. Without this feat, Freelance would not have been able to communicate with London and there would have been no more supply drops to support their Resistance organization. During the war she was also part of a raid which destroyed the Gestapo headquarters in Montluçon, in which she reportedly killed a Nazi sentry with her bare hands to prevent him from raising an alarm

Wake's fellow operatives described her as "a real Australian bombshell. Tremendous vitality, flashing eyes. Everything she did, she did well. She was an excellent shot, excelled at fieldcraft and put the men to shame by her cheerful spirit and strength of character." "She is the most feminine woman I know until the fighting starts. Then she is like five men." "We both came to the conclusion that she was 10 times the man I would ever be"

By the time of her death in 2011, Wake had been awarded the George Medal by Britain; the Medal of Freedom by the United States; the Médaille de la Résistance, the Croix de Guerre (x3), and the Légion d’Honneur by France; and the Badge in Gold by New Zealand. Due to a complicated relationship with Australia, she originally refused to accept any awards from the Australian government, saying that they could "stick their medals where the monkey stuck his nuts." In 2004, however, she accepted the honor of Companion of the Order of Australia as well

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 4)

It was the familiar voice that caught him at first, and then the familiar face. He was looking over at a man coming his way, two soldiers that he used to know. He knew him Dum-Dum, from the 107th and then he became a Howling Commandos alongside him and Steve. Seeing that actually shocked him, his entire body froze as they got closer and closer, his breathing caught and he stood straight. He made sure that his face stayed the same, the angry expression. And that seemed to catch his attention, making him almost wary. He seemed laid back, but he was on guard.

“Get back in line, sir. I’d rather not tell you again,” Dugan twitched his gun subtly, as if gesturing that he’d use force if necessary, but he just eyed him, carefully keeping his gaze firmly focused on him. He looked up to his mask a few times, occasionally questioning it.

“Can I check on the old man first?” he asked calmly, gesturing over his shoulder at the scared senior who was frantically glancing between them and looking away to somewhere on his left. James realized after taking a quick glance, that there was an old woman and a younger one with a child there, frantically staring back at the man. It must’ve been his family, the ones he was trying to get to when the jackass soldier saw him move.

“Yeah, make it fast,” the big, red-headed soldier casually waved him off, raising a brow after probably noting down his accent. James didn’t bother hiding that he was American. And that was probably a bad move, because they may ask him questions, they as in any soldier than happened to catch him talking bilingually.

Either way, he swiftly turned and stepped towards the old man, eyeing him carefully.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he? ” he also didn’t bother with cooing the man. He was sure that most of the men here fought in a war, served and lied down their lives, and he knew that being coddled wouldn’t be something they wanted, so his tone was somewhat flat and blunt. And the smile and little laugh he received confirmed what he’d thought.

“I’m fine, boy. I’m fine, thank you, ” he said with a deep, rough and gassy voice. He patted his arm and shoulder a few times, as if to show that he was okay and took a glance to the side, at his family. James did too, eyeing them before turning back to the old man. He seemed calmer, breathing having slowed from its pant. He must’ve been scared from watching what had unfolded in front of him. The soldier that James put on the ground. He must’ve thought that he’d get into trouble for saving him.

He patted the old mans’ shoulder before turning back around, glancing towards Dugan and eyeing him and the other soldier edgily. Luckily, his past self was nowhere in sight, so maybe he was checking around the corner with a few other soldiers. He wasn’t sure on how he’d react to seeing himself and he didn’t particularly want to find out.

“You’re American,” Dugan inevitably pointed out, just a simple statement that James inwardly cursed at. He wanted to avoid all this together, but if he remembered correctly, the man would keep talking until he had an answer for something. If James stayed quiet, there’d be a question after a question, after a question.

“I am,” he replied flatly, staying perfectly still in place with the two soldiers watching him. The one he floored was now standing further back, behind the, soon to be, Howling Commando.

“Where from?” another question came.

“New York,” he didn’t want to give away exactly where. They’d more than likely drag the James from this time into the conversation. There’d be more questions and paragraph upon paragraph of stories of the man or he’d appear at their request and that’d be a bad move. And he could say he was from anywhere else in New York. If his mask came off, there’d be more problems. Though saying that he was originally from Brooklyn, but moved at a very young age, it’d give him a chance to pass himself off as a relative or something if he was caught out.

… None of this sounded sensible or logical at this point, but what did? He was seventy years into the past with a younger version of himself running around. He was currently standing in front of two men he knew and was wearing old clothes that covered an immensely high-tech arm. What made sense anymore…

“Where in New York? The accents familiar,” accent? He’d admit that his Brooklyn twang surfaced every now and again, but it wasn’t that strong to recognize it or even hear it. And if it was, then his idea on saying that he’d moved at a young age was screwed.

“Originally, Brooklyn,” he added and inwardly winced at the realization-widening of their eyes, as if they just registered the place he said. He didn’t like seeing the flash of fondness over the name. They clearly knew something from the one word.

“Our Sergeant’s from Brooklyn,” the red-headed man smiled widely, dropping his firm hold on his weapon and letting it hang there, an arm resting over the top. His guard was lowered too, not seeming so dangerous anymore. He had a carefree smile as the guy he floored lowered his own weapon a few inches, apparently picking up that there wasn’t any danger or threat, even if James dropped the guy on his ass. They were calm, as well as James. He was gradually finding it easier to handle this situation now that he didn’t have guns aimed at him. “Heard of Bucky? James Buchanan Barnes maybe?”

… If he only knew...

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he eased out the lie, his posture beginning to relax as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned slightly onto one leg. It was glad that the conversation and atmosphere seemed to ease up, because the crowd around them seemed to calm as well. There was more chattering and whispers and less crying and whimpering. The almost comfortable chat between James, the man that saved the town, and these soldiers was calming everyone in the vicinity. A domino effect.

“Huh, well you should meet him. He’s always talkin’ about Brooklyn, maybe meeting another guy from home would bring a smile to his sorry sack ofa face,” he was going to ignore that comment. If he remembered correctly, he got homesick if he was gone for too long. Leaving his family, Steve, the women and friends. He’d easily miss home, but keep it to himself so he would piss anyone off.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, instantly regretting it. He’d basically just agreed to maybe meeting his past self… “But I can’t remember a lot. I left Brooklyn when I was young,” he added, trying to seem put off about it, to maybe get them to reconsider. This obviously didn’t happen.

“S’aright, he’ll tell you what you’ve missed,” his smile just grew and he took long strides towards him, his hand reaching out and slamming down on his shoulder-blade, thankfully it was the right side, though not so thankful from how hard the contact was. He actually felt the faint hot sting on the skin under the shirt. His heart began to hammer in his chest when he was steered away from the crowds and towards more soldiers gathering at the entrance to the town. There were tents being set up, far apart with military vans parking up, scattered around the grass and nearby trees. They were going to camp out for the day, maybe two depending on if they were called out to another town. “So, what’s your name?” this was a question he was asking himself. He’d gone through names the day before, but he wasn’t too sure on which he should pick. There were so many he could choose from. He’d even thought of picking a name close to James, just in case he was found out. And then, as he’d said before, he’d be able to pass himself off as a brother or something. So Jamie was the closest name he’d thought of. And so...

“Jamie,” he muttered more than said, his voice quiet as they headed between a few soldiers just inside the town. For the most part, they were ignored, but there were eyes on him, watching him and questioning him, and the mask. It seemed to attract attention, but he was sure that taking the mask off would attract even more unwanted eyes. A few just said ‘hey’ to Dugan, completely bypassing him.

“You got a nickname, Jay?” the voiced boomed right into his ear as they squeezed passed a few more soldiers crowding around two tents. They were stepping around the field just inside of the town, passing by another barn, a more used and rotting one than the one he’d used to stash the bodies behind.

“I guess I do now,” he wasn’t going to say anything about the ones he currently had, or used to have. He didn’t like Winter, courtesy of Brock Rumlow. He was definitely keeping Bucky to himself. Terminator and Robocop would pass their heads, being references to future movies, according to Hawkeye. He really didn’t get them either. Barton kept calling him the two names on the way to the German airport. Even Ant-man joined him, though a lot more wary and hesitant than the archer.

He really couldn’t think of any other… So, Jay it was, he assumed.

----------

It was like he was staring into a mirror, a younger mirror. James wasn’t that much older, maybe five years at least, if he considered every time he was dragged out of Cryo and the months he’d spent hiding after DC. But ‘ Bucky ’ definitely looked far younger with short hair and those baggy, mud-green trousers and long-sleeved, green shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to about mid-forearm. He did look really young. Now James looked older. So… either he could risk pulling off the older twin, which there was a less chance that they’d believe him, or he could pull off the ‘older brother by a couple of years’ thing. Because James was actually older at this point, and he had thicker stubble than this James, and it was apparently proven that stubble makes you look older. Or that was what he remembered from watching TV adverts.

It’d also make an easier story to say that he grew up in an orphanage. It’d give the impression that Bucky’s parents gave him away and that was why he knew nothing of an older brother, and make it seem like it was vice versa. The only problem would be that their parents were still alive, and Bucky could easily return home and asked them. Though… he didn’t remember returning to his house or his parents between now and when he fell from the train. So maybe this would be the easiest story he could roll with in this situation.

He just needed to act oddly with Bucky, glance at him a few too many times and eventually remove his mask. But he needed the right timing for that. It was all he could really do at this point. He couldn’t leave now, not with Dugan on his shoulder and soldiers surrounding them.

And honestly, he was sure he’d do more than his fair share of staring. So acting this out wouldn’t be too hard. It was just the question of the James of the past believing him. And he recalled being a stubborn basterd back then.

“Serge, got a present for you,” Dugan beamed as they got closer to his… uh… as they got closer to Bucky . The man looked up from where he was sitting on the bumper of one of the trucks, messing with his gun. There was an instant crooked smirk curling his lips and he moved to stand, glancing over him instantly with curious eyes. And much like most of the other soldiers, he paused on his mask, eyeing it for a few seconds before laughing a little.

“A guy wearing a mask?” his voice was almost exactly like his own, minus the roughness from years of lack of speaking and minus the flatness and general exhaustion.

“Not just any guy wearing a mask. A guy wearing a mask who’s from Brooklyn,” as soon as Dugan said it, Bucky’s face snapped to him. He could barely catch the emotions rolling over him because of how many there were. Happiness, relief, warmth, hope, delight. There were a few more, but they seemed to pass by frequently.

“You are? Seriously?” James really couldn’t get over how happy he seemed from just hearing this. Was he always this cheerful?

“Yeah,” his lips twitched under his mask. His past self was talking directly to him, and he was lot more nervous than he thought he’d be. On the inside anyway. On the outside, he was calm, composed, all trained to not match his actual feelings if his inner feelings were compromised. “I… moved away when I was younger. Started travelling around,” It wasn’t technically a lie. He didn’t ‘move’ as such, he was taken. But he did travel, for his missions. He went everywhere, from Europe, to Norway, to Africa, to London, to-... He was pretty sure he’d been almost everywhere.

“So, I take it, you don’t know that there’s a shit-ton of new deli’s and bars everywhere?” Bucky got closer, a fond smile on his face as he stepped up to him. He still glanced at the mask, but said nothing, his attention on the shared Brooklyn experience instead of the odd fashion sense.

“Is Brooklyn just a Deli and bar city now?” he raised a brow with his sarcasm, hearing the other man bark out a laugh. He understood the joke just fine and he was glad that he took his dry-humour in. Truthfully, James couldn’t remember the last time he actually cracked a joke, dry ones included.

“I’d be surprised if my house is still there when I get back,” his humour was just as dry and flat as his own. So, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought to get closer to his past self.

[hydravns]

TOM WLASCHIHA as ALBRECHT WOLFRAM in RESISTANCE (2011) Dir. Amit Gupta

[revacholian-girl-utena]

This system does not require faith — only accordance.

Alt text: Screenshots from Revolutionary Girl Utena with overlaid text. 1: Dios on a white horse, standing up high on a broken bridge. Text: An innocence is infallible.

2: Dios and young Utena looking at young Anthy, suspended in the air on the swords of hate. Text: The decisions made by one are not decisions.

3: Anthy's silhouette against a pink background, pierced by many blades, hair flying. Text: They are inevitabilities —

4: Touga looking out the tower window at the stars. His shirt is open and he holds a potted cactus. Text: what would have happened anyway,

5: An apple with a slice cut out, pierced by many forks. Text: only accelerated.

6: B-ko the shadow girl in Prince costume, taking a heroic stance. Text: An Innocence is a continuous, compressed event, a sacred human being.

7: Akio, dressed as End of the World, holds Utena, dressed as a rose bride. Text: It is an honor and a glory to live when one is in office.

8: Closeup on young Utena and Dios's feet, standing at the edge of a sheer drop. Text: YOU — Is one in office now?

9: A dark, empty stage with a rose design on the lowered curtain. Text: No.

10: Young Utena standing alone under a spotlight. She is staring at the spot where young Anthy disappeared. There are cracks in the wall resembling the shape of the swords coming out of Anthy's body. Text: We are alone.

[ifwebefriends]

My Child Lebensborn review/thoughts/rambles

So the other day, I played a game called My Child Lebensborn and I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it. It’s kinda intense with its themes and story (TW below) so if you’re in a good headspace right now, I really think that you should play it or watch a let’s play on YouTube. It’s like 4-5 hours long. The game is on most consoles as well as android and iOS. It costs $3 and a part of that goes to the Children Born of War Project so while I’m usually pro-piracy, this is one game that I really think you should not pirate. I played the iOS version which you can download here.

The game is described as a “dark tamagotchi” where you play a struggling single parent in 1951-1952 Norway and care for your young adoptive child (either the male Klaus or female Karin, you choose). Klaus/Karin is a “Lebensborn,” an Aryan child born out of wedlock of a German soldier and a Norwegian woman during the occupation of Norway in WWII. You have to balance caring for the child both mentally and physically, work, investigating the child’s origins, and keeping up with local news. A lot happens to the child over the course of the game that you can’t do anything to prevent, you can only impact how the child sees the situation and how they may react to it. It’s a really good and educational game about an aspect of war that I wasn’t really familiar with until now and while it’s not really the most “fun,” it’s a very fulfilling and engaging experience.

The story is basically entirely told through text and mostly happens to the child outside of the home so most of the disturbing stuff happens off-screen but it’s still heavily referred to and feels like a punch to the gut.

If you have a hard stomach and think you can handle it, stop reading this post now and go play it as I’m about to give trigger warnings that could spoil the game and then go into my personal thoughts about it.

Trigger warning for: references to war, bullying, assault, poverty, abandonment, references to Nazism, attempted murder, being forcibly tied up, being urinated on, ethnic discrimination, cruel family members, cruel teachers, and child sexual assault.

Direct Spoilers below

So I don’t think I ever want kids IRL but the way that Karin had MY WHOLE HEART and I wanted to be the best parent ever for her 🥺 like that is my DAUGHTER and you WILL NOT TOUCH HER

Karin baby you deserved so much better I’m sorry I could only do so much for you 🥺🥺🥺

AHHH I DIDN’T BUY THE FOX TOY IN TIME IT WAS GONE BEFORE I HAD THE MONEY FOR IT FUCK

I wish I had chewed out the grandparents more during that visit with them fuck them

The bullying was so fucking cruel like what the hell that’s a child who didn’t ask to be born under these circumstances have some compassion!!!!!!

The way that I clocked almost IMMEDIATELY that Karin was sexually assaulted since she didn’t want to be touched (I don’t know where I learned the warning signs but I did)

I wish there was an option to fucking murder Mr. Solheim

I choose to believe that Karin and the parent ended up somewhere good where people were more tolerant, I have to believe that

I chose to investigate the parents as much as possible, be as honest with Karin as I could, and tried to keep some hope and cautious optimism alive in Karin while still being sensitive to her feelings and not forcing her when she didn’t feel like doing something and I was very satisfied with how things turned out, she trusted me fully by the end

I wish that Karin was more trusting of others by the end but I don’t know how much control I had over that

Here are my chapter complete endcards to further describe the choices I made:

Image ID in ALT Text

[jokerislandgirl32]

Remembering the Fallen and Those Who Serve

I wish I had something better to say than this…I have a history degree for goodness sakes, much of my study being in this era of history. But I can’t formulate more than this:

Today is the 80th anniversary of D Day, it was on this day that so many brave soldiers sacrificed their lives in the name of freedom and justice. The number of veterans still alive who witnessed the horrors of this day are dwindling. Many of these soldiers still struggle with the memories of this fateful day and the War in general. If you have the opportunity to meet any of these remarkable soldiers, please thank them for their service. I may never meet one, but I am ever grateful for their sacrifice.

And if you meet any veterans or service members, thank them for their service as well.

Image Link

[agir1ukn0w]

can we talk about how The Zone of Interest is a movie that's really about everything you can't see? can we talk about how the families of German high command officers lived perfectly normal lives behind thick concrete walls that they hoped would become overgrown with vines and flowers so they wouldn't have to be constantly reminded of what was behind it? can we talk about how these men committed unspeakable acts of genocide behind these walls, then came home and went about their day as if everything was right in the world? as if hundreds of human beings weren't being worked/gassed to death and their bodies burned in crematoriums every single day, practically in their backyards? can we talk about how excellently important this film is for Americans today with everything that's happening in the world? can we talk about how the families of those SS officers are just like the Israeli people who colonize the Gaza strip and treat the people who live there like they're inhuman? and can we talk about how their Jewish predecessors, who were hated and hunted and massacred by the millions for generations, are SCREAMING from beyond the grave?

[waywardsou2]

Whumptober 2024 - "Don't move, you'll be ok"

Summary: An AU where Steve goes and finds Bucky. The results are no less heart breaking

Word Count: 1.9k+

Tags: Dismemberment, trauma, alternate universe, blood, hospital, memories, gore

Steve felt like everything inside of him had been sucked out. That his whole body had been dragged under the speeding train.

He knew it hadn't. He could still feel the cold metal underneath his gloves. He could still feel the harsh winds on his face. He could feel the solid metal underneath his feet.

But it doesn't mean anything, because his entire world, the person he had held closest to his heart had just been ripped away from him.

He heard rather than saw, the wind whipping the snow in his face and it was making his eyes water. Instead he heard the cry of fear as the bar Bucky had been holding onto gave way.

He felt the way his heart sank as Bucky fell away from him.

This couldn't be happening.

The part of his brain that wanted to sink to his knees was pushed away, buried as his logical brain took over knowing he needed to complete the mission. He pulled himself back inside the car, refusing to process what had just happened.

He made his way to the front of the car where Arnim Zola had been cornered by Gabe, a gun trained on him and the driver. They were taking the two of them to the meeting point where Colonel Philips and the rest of the 107th would be waiting for them.

After they get back to the camp Steve rushes to Colonel Philips leaving the Howling Commandos by their truck

"Good job out there Rogers, I had my doubts but your team pulled through" The Colonel looked around briefly. "I don't see Sargent Barnes"

"Sir, Bucky fell. We need to go look for him. It's about six miles down from here. I need to take my team to look for him"

"Rogers, we just bagged Zola I can't allow-"

"If he's alive do we really want him in enemy hands?" Steve was trying to play into the Colonel's reasoning and hoped that the idea that Bucky could give away critical intelligence would be enough to convince him. He knew Bucky would never, but Colonel Philips didn't.

The Colonel paused and sighed deeply. Looking like he wanted to say no, but there was an uncharacteristic softness around his eyes when he looked at Steve

"You and the rest of your team take the winter tank. You get an hour, get down there and get back. With or without Barnes"

Steve almost felt like crying, all of his buried feelings coming back in a sudden overwhelming surge. He had to move now, he couldn't stand the thought of Bucky, laying in the snow in whatever condition he was in. Alive or dead he was going to bring him home. Back to his mother and back to Becca.

He went back to the truck where the rest of his Howling Commandos were waiting. They were all staring at their boots forlornly. Gabe had told them about Bucky.

Marching past them at high speed towards where the tanks were stationed he called to them "Follow me"

Instantly they marched into the step with him, their guns now slung over their backs from where they were resting on the hood of the car.

Dugan's hands where curled into fists

"Where are we headed Captain?"

"Back, were going to find Bucky"

The group rushed to the tank and took off, heading back out of the camp and down the mountain. Heading for the ravine where Bucky fell.

As they were going Falsworth calculated the approximate search distance from where Bucky fell to where he could have landed. Calculating in wind, landing place and slope, potential debris intervention and if he was alive how far he realistically would have been able to travel on his own.

That gave them a 2.4 square miles for a search radius

They made their way back to the ravine and Steve's heart sped up, knowing that soon he would have an answer to his bruning question.

Would he be fine Bucky warm or cold?

They stopped the tank and walked the last 3 miles to reach the edge of the radius and spread out. Walking in a line down the ravine. One person on either side of a small half frozen lake. Steve took point, walking several paces ahead of the rest. Though he walked slow, his head constantly on a swivel, there was steadfast determination in each step.

He walked, his face searching the snow and the trees that dotted the ravine. He didn't care that his teeth were chattering and he couldn't feel his nose or his fingers. He had to keep looking until his hour was up.

He walked until he heard Dugan call out. He was crouched near the edge of the edge of the forest.

Steve sprinted, his leg carrying him across the ravine in 7 seconds flat.

The others joined him quickly and here they all saw what Dugan had found.

Bucky was lying on his back. Blood covering his face, a bruise on his eye and a bad gash on the right side of his head. He had blood in his teeth, the white turned stained with the fluid. His breathing was disjointed, full of spluttering and coughing. He didn't take a full breath in, the only indication he was actually breathing was the way his chest jumped. His exposed skin was slowly turning purple and blue. His lips, nose and holes in his gloves indicating as such.

But as Steve let his eyes rake over Bucky's body he realised why Jim had been looking away.

The arm of his vest had been torn away and it was ripped and fraying. The place where his arm should have been was pouring blood, what should have been his bone was stained red. It was snapped, fractured as it stuck out of him and the blood was everywhere.

His arm was laying a few feet away in the tree line. Steve followed the trail of blood connecting the two and he felt like collapsing

There was too much of it, and it just kept coming. He didn't understand how there was so much. The way it stained the dead twigs and snow underneath him. The way it pooled and ran like a river of death. It's warm and sticky texture melting away the snow and carving a trail down the slope to the frozen water below.

A younger Steve would have vomited at the sight of all the blood, his stomach felt queasy but he held up and instead he bent down scooping Bucky up in his arms.

Bucky groaned and cried out in pain. He hoped to God it wasn't irreparable back injury

"Don't move. You'll be ok" Steve said desperately looking down at Bucky in his arms.

It was strange. Bucky had always been the one to carry him. He had always been bigger. Stronger. But he somehow seemed too small in Steve's hands.

Without hesitating the group went back to the tank. Steve holding Bucky as close to his chest as possible. He had peeled back the top of his suit. Taking off his undershirt as he walked with Bucky in one hand. Taking the shirt and using it to stanch the bleeding until they could get back to the supplies in the tank.

Bucky's eyes were open but he couldn't see anything. He could feel movement and something holding onto him. But none of it was making sense inside of his head. The moving sky and the lack of cold snow under him. The muffled voice he knew were shouting but still couldn't hear were filling his ears amongst the ringing inside his head.

His head ached, his back aches, his arm felt like it was on fire and his face felt swollen.

It was all he could feel. His own body was so alive with pain of all kinds in all places. He wanted to cry out but couldn't manage more than a choked gurgle.

He felt whatever was gripping him tightly grip even tighter. Then he was being raised, his eyes seeing the sky come closer. And then it sunk away and he was taken into darkness, a small yellow light being the only source for him to see. Everything was fuzzy and the dim light made it hard for him to focus on anything.

He felt fear, immeasurable fear but all he could do was lay there. He thought of something else, searching his aching head for anything that wasn't the feelings coursing through him.

He thought of Steve. His short straw coloured hair and the way he always made sure to brush it flat and slick it still with gel in the mornings. A habit he's had since childhood.

Or the way he was before the serum, the small scrawny boy he had protected all throughout school. The boy who was too stupid to run away from a fight even though he never won.

He thought about how Steve was always sick. Catching whatever was going around at the time.

He thought about the time he had gotten sick and how Steve had refused to leave his side. The way Bucky would cough and Steve would hand him a glass of water or rush to get him food. The way Steve would sit and read him the Hobbit over and over again because he couldn't sit up long enough to actually get through a page.

He thought of Steve until everything went dark and everything disappeared.

Steve waited, he waited for a whole week by Bucky's side. They had gotten back to the camp and the field Doctors had spared as many men as they could to staunch the blood. Realising they didn't have the proper materials they needed to properly cauterize a wound of this size they took him in one of the medic cars and to the closest Austrian hospital. Steve of course was with them the whole way. The only time he wasn't allowed in was during surgery where they cauterised the wound. Howard had seen what had happened and had rushed off to a lab he owned in Austria and began working on...something.

Steve applauded Howard's brilliance but he had no clue how Howard would A) have have any machine that would help and B) create a machine that would save Bucky's life in time.

So Steve waited. Watching as the hands ticked by on the clock until a nurse came and addressed him. She told him that they were able to stop the bleeding and create a makeshift patch until Mr Stark got here.

He was stable, but he wouldn't wake up for a while.

Steve nodded and thanked her.

She lead him to the room Bucky was resting in. He was laying out on the white linens his face was just as white. They had him connected to an IV drip and a blood bag.

Steve reached and touched it tenderly. He didn't know why his hand stretched for the plastic. Possibly the check if it was real, he needed to know that Bucky would survive. That Bucky wouldn't just slip away and this would all be some horrible dream.

If it was a dream Bucky might still be alive and healthy. But he didn't think so. He'd had nightmares worse than this and had woken up once the worst was over.

'Maybe the worst wasn't over yet' he thought to himself

He mentally slapped himself trying to whisk the thoughts away with the fact that Bucky was right here. He was breathing and he would be ok.

He hoped

Ok guys I am turning this into a full AU but I'm only gonna start after promptober is over. You're gonna have to bear with me for a little while longer.

[gemsofgreece]

Famous Greeks who fought in the Greek resistance against the Axis Powers in WWII

Odysseus Elytis (middle): The nobelist poet served as a second lieutenant in the Greek frontline. After a few months he contracted a severe case of typhus, so he had to be hospitalized. He recovered and a lot of his future poetic work was inspired by the war.

Nikephoros Vrettakos (standing on the right in the first picture): The poet and author fought in the frontline in 1940 and almost got killed in Klisura. After his regiment was dissolved, he joined EAM / ELAS (Greek People's Liberation Army) and continued fighting until 1944.

Nikos Kavvadias (seated): Well known for his poetry inspired by his adventures in the sea, the sailor rarely wrote prose, but when he did, it was usually inspired by his days in land fighting in the war.

Many other poets also fought in the war. Ángelos Sikelianós volunteered to join the army, but he was rejected because he was 56 years old at the time.

Rebetiko and Laiko musicians and composers Markos Vamvakaris and Vassilis Tsitsanis also went to war. Tsitsanis entrusted his buzuki instrument with his mother and promised to return to take it back.

Painter Yannis Tsaruhis also fought in the Albanian frontline (Italy invaded Albania and then marched from Albania into Greece, Greece halted them there and then counterattacked, pushing the Italian forces back, which is why a lot of the war during 1940-1941 took place in the Albanian mountains). Tsaruhis heard that a soldier had a vision of Virgin Mary. He immediatedly made this religious icon, using a kipper can as a canvas and he named it "Η Παναγιά της Νίκης" (i panayá tis níkis, the Blessed Virgin of Victory). The paint had not even dried before a rumour was spread in the camp that the icon was supposedly miraculous.

Comedian Dinos Iliópulos, was a Greek of Alexandria, born and raised in Egypt. He completed his millitary service in Greece, even though he was an expat , so it was entirely optional for him. He had returned to his home in Egypt for just one day after finishing his service, when he heard of the bad news. He left immediately, returned to Greece and joined the army.

Lambros Konstandaras (centered in the left picture): the great actor volunteered to join the army and fought in the frontline. At some point he was severely injured in the head and the hip. He was rescued by the aforementioned poet Odysseus Elytis! After his recovery, he insisted on returning to the battlefield, but he was prevented from doing this. He was suffering from his wounds for the rest of his life, although his vibrant charisma and talent in cinema and theatre never allowed anyone to see this.

Kostas Hatzichristos (right picture): the hysterical comedian originally dreamed of a military profession, so when the war broke out, he joined the army and fought passionately. However, his days in the army were crazy. He was in the northern front and soon his legs developed frostbite. At some point he was sent to serve in a military hospital. Next to it was a cafe owned by an Albanian man and his sister Orhana. Hatzichristos, a notorious womanizer, fancied Orhana and provided supplies to her constantly and made her other favours as well. At some point Orhana disappeared. Hatzichristos found out she was collaborating with the Italians and was giving them all the supplies he was providing her! He became the target of a lot of mockery in the Greek camp. He was moved to regiments on the rear and then he had a lieutenant who just did.not.like.him and bullied him constantly. Once, Hatzichristos stumbled upon Italian soldiers trying to flee during his patrol. The lieutenant screamed at him to shoot them but Hatzichristos saw how young they were and how they were begging for mercy by crying out “Fratello, fratello” (brother in Italian) and felt sorry for them. He did not obey the lieutenant's order. The lieutenant was furious. Hatzichristos fetched them in front of him and said: "You kill them, since you are the tough guy". Hatzichristos always had a way to deliver lines and the lieutenant broke in laughter. He was so amused that he agreed to spare the lives of the Italians. He knew that an Italian regiment would pass from that point in a few hours, so they tied the two Italians in a tree, placed a little canned food next to them and left them there to be found by their own people once they passed.

Famous movie and theatre actor Dionysis Papayannópulos participated in important battles in extreme conditions in the mountains. He said that the battles lasted so long that when they ran out of bullets, they would keep fighting with sticks and stones. During the Axis occupation of Greece, Papayannópulos resumed his job as an actor in the theatre. One night, Max Merten, the Kriegsverwaltungsrat of the occupational forces in Thessaloniki, attempted to meet Papayannopulos at his dressing room in order to congratulate him on his performance. The actor refused to open the door and receive him. Merten was responsible for the deportation of the 50,000 Jews of Thessaloniki.

The great theatre actor Manos Katrakis (center) fought in the frontline and saw his commander commit suicide before his eyes when they were caught and disarmed by the enemy.

Sources:

Eleftheros Typos, through Lavart

thessalonikiartsandculture.gr

OK!

Spartorama

[alligatorpie1945]

“I am the harvest of man's stupidity. I am the fruit of the holocaust. I prayed like you to survive, but look at me now.

It is over for us who are dead, but you must struggle, and will I carry the memories all your life.

People back home will wonder why you can't forget."

-Eugene Sledge With the Old Breed

[troythecatfish]

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

-fae

[shadowreader23]

Time Travel Barnes? (Part 3)

The only words that could describe his current mood and position, was pouting, maybe sulking. Because this was, indeed, 1943 and he was in Normandy. Almost exactly where Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was stationed at the damn time. So yes, the sulking in private was necessary to him. The world seemed to be working against him, rather than with him. There was a higher than fifty percent chance that he would run into himself and he didn't want that. He wanted fewer issues and the world seemed to want to give him more on top of all of the issues he already had.

James was sitting on the worn carpet, his knees held up to his chest while he was huddled between the coffee table with his back against the sofa. He wasn’t able to sleep and he wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t sleep through the rest of the hours of the extremely early morning. He planned that early in the morning, maybe seven or eight, he’d start disposing of the German soldiers he’d taken out while the townspeople would mourn and/or bury their loss. He wouldn’t do it himself unless he was asked, it was too personal and private for James to do it. It wasn’t his right. And it wouldn’t feel right. If he was asked, then he would help. But the German soldiers, the Nazi were his priority.

He was tempted to start now, to go outside and begin piling the bodies, readying them for a ditch or a fire. At least then he could disappear tomorrow and narrow the chances of running into his past self. He was sure that a team was already heading their way, having probably already gotten the call of an invasion of the town. He’d rather not risk a meeting if it was the Sergeant or someone who knew him. He could be mistaken for him or he’d be noticed and the man would be called out. It was an incredibly slim chance, but a chance he’d rather not risk.

The soldier took in a deep breath and let it out as a quiet sigh. He was tired, he really was, but everything that had happened and what he knew was to come from memory. It was all getting to him and forcing his guard to heighten and solidify. His attention was drawn to every little thing and he was sure that sleep wouldn’t come to him. It’d be impossible at this point.

After that hot bath, James had got dressed and walked into the living room, meeting the old man there, Alaric, pronounced as Al-ar-ic. Hannah was the woman, she was very kind and wary of him.He was surprised that they both weren’t, but he was sure, from what he’d gathered of the old man, that he was formerly a soldier himself, maybe having seen too much in his time and wasn’t too afraid because of what his eyes had witnessed before. Someone killing another person must’ve have been a new thing to see.

With another deep sigh, James pushed himself from the floor, trying to be as quiet as he could while climbing up onto the sofa. Screw it, he wanted to at least try to rest. He had maybe two or three hours before he planned to go outside to start piling bodies, and it wasn’t even that bright out. So, thinking that resting on the sofa for those hours would rejuvenate him enough to work for a good few hours the next day, regardless of the super-serums’ limitless energy.

He slipped under the extra blanket and dropped his head on the overly fluffy pillow, half of his uncovered face disappearing into it. He was too comfortable, it was too easy to physically relax into it. James wouldn’t fall asleep, but he would be able to rest his eyes and body for the next few hours. He'd just be aware of everything around him and if something happened. He'd only seem as if he were asleep, to the couple and whoever else showed up.

----------

Which was almost impossible since his senses picked up every little creak of wood, every little drip from the faucet in the kitchen and every little noise the bugs and birds made from outside. The cricket sounds and the chirping, the creaking of the house and trees swaying, the barn doors opening and closing with the light breeze. Most of it was somewhat calming, but it got annoying pretty fast when all he wanted to do was relax, so he wouldn’t be overly irritated and edgy by the time he was outside, cleaning up bodies.

He already knew that he frightened the townspeople by just being there. They were wary of him because he was able to take out every Nazi man that was there in one night. They hadn’t even seen him and they were afraid. He was damn lucky with this couple.

It was nearly dawn, the light beginning to spread and slip into the room. It was a dim blue, changing the hue around him. It made it seem like a summer morning, a sun-following, a sun that you’d get out of bed for.

James let an irked sigh leaving his lips and seep into the pillow, his face almost buried completely in it. He was physically comfortable, but his mind definitely wasn’t. Already having gauged his mood, he would make sure he’d avoid verbal and physical contact with anyone and everyone. He’d stick to himself and keep quiet as he’d clean up the bodies.

The soldier released another huff and pushed himself to sit up, letting his legs drop over the edge to press down on the carpet. He glanced around and reached for the extra clothes on the coffee table. He quickly and quietly slipped out of the garments he’d worn the day before and jumped into a pair of really dark green combat trousers and a faded grey long-sleeve. There were gloves there too, which made him very thankful to the old man. He seemed to be aware of James’ need for discretion without the solder having to say anything. He’d really need to thank the man for the long-sleeve and gloves. He wouldn’t need the scarf placed next to the gloves, he had his balaclava, though he was sure it was there if he wanted to use it.

He easily dressed, slipping into the clothes. He tucked the bottoms of the trousers into his mid-calf-high combat boots, tying the laces tight afterwards. James stood and tucked the hem of his slightly large shirt into the waist of his trousers, belting the pants up before looking at himself. He then grabbed the gloves and slid them over his hands, concealing the metal first. Then the end of the sleeve was tucked into it. He’d done the same with the other, to make it seem less suspicious, even if it didn’t. James wouldn’t admit that he was paranoid, but he assumed that it was him being just that in this time. It was only the war that was the threat. He wasn’t being watched of surveyed by anyone as of yet. HYDRA was still hidden until next year. They were outted after the 107th was captured.

The soldier looked himself over for the second time and lightly shook his head, shrugging himself off before he stepped around the furniture and made his way towards the front door. He’d made sure that, after his bath the day before, he’d tossed the other German soldier outside, the one he’d raided, and that was what he was met with after opening the door and stepping out into the cool morning air. He’d almost scoffed after just staring for a few seconds.

James reached up to his neck and grabbed at the hem of his balaclava, raising it up until it covered a majority of his face, from the rig of his nose and cheeks down. The only skin that was showing at this point was a sliver of skin under his eyes and his forehead and temples, though they were almost completely covered by his ‘still’ long hair. He wondered if Hannah had a band he could borrow, but he’d dropped the thought as it came. They’d given him so much as it was, even a hairband would be too much in his eyes, at this point.

He subconsciously reached for one side of his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he made to step around the now dead body, reaching down to grab at his wrists and began dragging him towards the barn. He’d noticed the empty field behind it, no plants or flush fields, just dead grass and mountains of dirt where he could burn each body. He’d take them further from the town though, in case the closer part of the field would be used to bury the loss of the town.

The soldier easily switch around and lifted the body with his metal arm, now having the limp Nazi over his shoulder. It’d be a decent workout, considering that there were bodies upon bodies that he’d left lying in alleys. So many of them and he’d be lugging them around the streets until he reached the field. James would pile them up first, hide them behind the barn just in case. If there were kids running around, he’d rather not leave corpses lying around in broad daylight. He’d scare more people and he really didn’t want that.

James walked around the large shed slash barn, striding all the way around to the back to where he’d deposit the body and leave to collect more. One right after another, and then another, and then another. He did this over and over until the light of the sun was shining over the streets of this little town, lighting everything up with a warm breeze and glow. It was way passed down, maybe passed nine or ten in the morning? And looking around almost confirmed it when he’d seen a few people walking around, hesitant, worried, and scared.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he continued, trying to seem as harmless and as to himself as possible as he picked up bodies, two at a time and took them to the back of the barn. And he’d continued to do this unless he was asked to stop. Which happened at least three times in an hour...

… To be thanked.

He’d had no clue as to what to say or do at the time. The first few times, he’d just stayed characteristically silent as they instantly reached for his flesh hand and shook it rapidly. It had shocked him, stunned him and he’d fought off the instinctive urge to step back or guard himself. Instead, he’d let them thank him in their language, seeming scared yet so grateful to him for what he’d done.

A few actually followed him around, a handful watching him as he grabbed bodies and took them to the barn, dropping them behind it and out of view. It was odd, but he’d easily ignored it. Though that was until Hannah cautiously made her way towards him as he took a minute break outside of the house. Alaric had even joined her and was giving him a tired smile, to which he returned with a subtle, single nod.

“Drink,” Hannah offered, holding out the cup of juice with one hand and a sandwich in the other. He’d just noticed, but she had a subtle smile on her lips too. James gave her a slightly wider one and reached out.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly and genuinely in their tongue. He hadn’t actually thought of food, hadn’t crossed his mind that he’d be hungry until later in the afternoon and he’d hoped that it would be about the time he’d attempt to leave maybe. He still planned on disappearing, hopefully, before USA troops arrived. “I can’t thank you enough,” he added, slightly quieter than before as he examined the food and drink and took the first bite.

“I think you have it backwards,” she beamed fondly at him, her eyes slightly brighter than before as she watched him. “It’s us who can’t ‘thank you’ enough,” he could practically feel the warmth coming off of her now. He was thinking that maybe her initial shock had worn off and now that she was composed, she saw him differently, much like how everyone else in this town seemed to. It was odd. James really hadn’t expected this reaction from them. He’d figured that’d they’d be terrified, wouldn’t even think of being near him, being close or even thanking him with such enthusiasm. It was a change, and one he was very grateful for. It lifted his mood to know that he wasn’t feared for what he’d done. It brought back some life to his own and he could feel a slight spark light in the pit of his stomach. What that was, he had no clue, but he didn’t dislike it.

----------

James was walking back around to the front of the barn when he saw it, the mass of men across the cornfield and striding and driving along the road that led into the town, the one he’d crossed to get in the day before. They were earlier than expected if he was right thought they were. And by the size, he’d be surprised if his past self ‘wasn’t’ apart of that lengthy troop.

The soldier let a shaky huff leave his throat and pass through his lips, catching and heating up the area of his balaclava that was against his mouth. He quickly trotted off towards the house he’d been staying in, easily catching sight of Hannah on the door, chatting with a few other women, most scared and holding tight to a baby and two kids cuddling their legs. The children eyed him warily, thought one stared in awe as he came closer, catching their attention and smiles. It was still odd seeing no fear in the adults. Though he wasn’t complaining.

“US troops are heading this way, can you spread the word and gather everyone?” he rushed out with clear words in their tongue, glancing between each of the women to see the sudden snap of attention and there were rushed nods and words strewn around. They quickly did as he asked, separating off into different directions and stopping a few people as they ran around. He watched them speak to the ones in his sight and they intern glanced at him with concern and they ran off to spread more of his words.

It had only taken a few minutes for the word to get far enough around. The ones that hadn’t heard had followed the growing crowd to the centre of the town, slightly closer to the road that led in and out. And in the distance, the large mass of armed men could be seen heading their way. James had joined the crowd, sticking closer to Alaric and Hannah as if instinctively labelling them carers for housing him. Needed protecting, and so did this entire town...

When did ‘I need to leave before the US arrive’ turn into ‘I’m keeping this town safe, under my protection’? Somehow, that was what had happened and now he was standing there, in the group of people while waiting for the troops to arrive.

By the time the military had swarmed at the entrance to the town, the entirety of the people had gathered restlessly, only letting enough room for maybe half of the company to assemble and force their way in. The intimidation worked on almost everyone, men telling people to move back and spread out by physically moving them towards the walls of houses. James felt a rush of anger at seeing them being manhandled.

“I said, over there!” an American ordered harshly at an old man only a few feet away, and that was what made him snap. Even with Hannah and Alaric calling to him, he stomped forward and reached out with his metal hand just as the soldier was about to use the butt of his gun as the weapon. He’d grabbed it and swiftly got in the way, between the two and he scowled, using enough strength to make it so the man couldn’t move his weapon. “Get back in line!” he hissed in his face and James shoved him back with a faint growl, gritting his teeth. It was as if he was moving on instinct to protect the man. They shifted further back on the former Winter Soldiers’ strength, James putting enough force into moving them away from everyone until the soldier was trying to move James back. He’d laugh if he could, what with how weak it felt in comparison.

But then he flipped the gun quickly, using the head of it as a weapon and roughly whipped the man in the face with it, shocking him with the pain and hearing the high ‘thwack’ of it while he staggered back, still holding onto the gun, but James only need to push the weapon forward in his grip, the man stumbling and then falling back onto his ass. James glared down at him, eyes dark and threatening, intimidating and the look only darkened further at the fear that seemed to grow.  

“You aim guns at threats. Does he look like a threat to you,” he’d hissed out in a deep, rough tone, glaring daggers into the shock and fear that spread across the man’s’ features. “Answer!” his voice deepened and the man actually jerked in fear.

“Put the gun down and get back in line, sir,” James only glanced up and he was double taking, his eyes widening for a split second at the familiar face.

[hydravns]

TOM WLASCHIHA as HAGEN FORSTER in DAS BOOT (2018) Dir. Tony Saint & Johannes W. Betz

01x02: Geheime Missionen

[connectionterminated13]

Tiny's little William lore is that when he was like 10 him and his sister were playing and she nearly drowned to death in the river and then caught pneumonia and had a slow and painful death and William could do nothing but watch as someone he cared so much for died in front of him. And then shortly after His father ended himself out of guilt for failing in his eyes all 3 of his children.