eulalia1818

[eulalia1818]

[eulalia1818]

[eulalia1818]

[eulalia1818]

Unknown ,  Laundry - Carin Bengts , 2014.

Swedish, b.1946  -

Oil on canvas, 120 x 150 cm.

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the hill me and the mutuals are dying on

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This is actually disgustingly accurate. My mind feels exactly like how this looks.

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the winter soldier ⭐️

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★ "Our Coney Island Hero"

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stumbled across this amazing thread a while back, wouldn’t let me go…

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Things I love about this

1. Bucky sees Alpine as a partner and speaks to her as such

2. Steve knows this and does not question it, also doesn't question Al's attack capabilities

3. These men are over 100 years old and still very ridiculous

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I’ve been tinkering with this one for a while, and it’s rough, but I wanted to get it posted for Bucky’s birthday. 🎂 It’s probably too angsty for a birthday posting, but angst IS in my username. 😁

[eulalia1818]

Jupiter was supposed to be a star

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Summary

What if the bloodline of Red Skull didn't end with him? What if Hydra and the Winter Soldier program weren't created to destroy, but to preserve? What if, before all the super-soldiers, there was a her? What if?

~

First chapter - In the beginning was the Word

In the beginning was the Word, and her first word was, as it is for many, "Mama". It was an early day in the spring of 1937, and the little girl, with a cry that startled even the sparrows resting on the window ledge, claimed her right to name the world and begin shaping her place within it. Her voice was surprisingly firm for a creature so small, as if some hidden strength inside her refused to be stifled.

March in the outskirts of Berlin is cold, damp with the stubborn remnants of winter, but the girl's boundless energy made her seem impervious. She kicked her legs, small as matchsticks, and pushed away the swaddling clothes that sought to contain her. The nursemaid, flustered, tried to tuck the blankets back around her, but the child flailed with such insistence that even the woman, stoic and accustomed to unruly infants, gave up and let her win this one battle.

In the parlor, the girl’s mother sat on a chaise longue, stiff-backed and elegant, with glossy black hair pinned into an intricate bun that seemed more suited to a ball than a quiet afternoon at home. Her sharp, dark eyes flicked toward the sudden cry, drawn like a hawk’s to the sound of a mouse in the grass. "Oh mein Gott, Johann! Come here, quickly. She’s spoken." There was something like surprise in her voice, almost wonder, as if she hadn’t quite expected this tiny creature to be capable of such a human act.

Johann, tall and severe with a face carved from marble, stepped out of his study. He bore the air of a man perpetually preoccupied with matters far more significant than a child’s chatter. Adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit, he strode into the room and glanced down at the girl with a look that suggested he was inspecting a piece of furniture rather than his own flesh and blood.

"I don’t see what the fuss is about," he muttered, his voice clipped and formal. "All children her age begin speaking. It’s nothing extraordinary. It was about time for Klara to say something as well." His  eyes, devoid of warmth, lingered on the girl for a moment longer than usual, as if searching for some hidden meaning in her existence. Finding none, he turned on his heel and disappeared once again behind the heavy mahogany door of his study, the faint smell of cigars and leather trailing in his wake.

The mother’s gaze lingered on the child longer than her husband’s had. There was a peculiar intensity in her look—not affection exactly, but curiosity, as if she were trying to decipher a puzzle. The child’s round face, framed by a soft fuzz of brown hair, mirrored hers in its structure, a fact that seemed to unsettle her rather than bring comfort. With a sigh that seemed to rise from the deepest part of her chest, she handed the baby to the nursemaid and said, almost to herself, "If we were to disappear tomorrow, he wouldn’t notice for months."

And then, just like that, she turned away, retreating into the quiet shadows of the apartment, leaving the child to be carried back to the nursery.

But fate, ever capricious, had more cruelty in store. As March melted into April and the damp chill of spring clung stubbornly to the city, illness crept into the household. First, it was the second son, pale and feverish, his once vibrant face drained of its boyish vitality. The mother followed soon after, struck by the same ruthless bout of pneumonia. Both succumbed in silence, their deaths marked not by wailing or mourning but by a suffocating absence, like the heavy silence that settles after a storm.

The father did not weep. He stood at the graveside with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the freshly turned earth. The elder son, shipped off to a military boarding school days after the funeral, left without protest, his young face already hardened into the stoic mask of a soldier.

And so, the household fell into an eerie stillness. Johann retreated deeper into his work, erecting a fortress of ledgers and documents to shield himself from the presence of his surviving daughter. Klara, too young to understand even concept of Life, toddled through the echoing halls of the apartment, her small footsteps swallowed by the cavernous silence. The nursemaids cared for her needs with clinical precision, but there was no warmth in their touch, no lullabies to soothe her to sleep. She was fed, bathed, clothed, but never held—not the way her mother might have held her, if fate had been kinder.

In those early years, the girl learned to live in the spaces between things: between the shadows of the furniture, between the footsteps of the servants, between the fleeting glances her father cast in her direction. And though she did not yet have the words to name it, she felt the weight of being unseen, of existing only in the periphery of others’ lives.

~

If you want to read the rest follow me here and on Wattpad @SaturnsSea (Soon also on Archive) . If you have question abt the plot or characters drop a comment. See you soon

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Yeah now we've entered the back pain stage

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In an other universe I hope to meet you

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