naieve

Maybe I can’t tell you that I love you; or that your arms feel like home when I’m stumbling in the dark; or that 4am isn’t as lonely by your side.
But I sure as hell can tell you that I would start fires at the bottom of the ocean if you asked me to. I would realign constellations, bleed until my veins no longer held a single trace of anything else but you. I’d scream until my throat dried out, and then scream some more if it meant that you would hear anything I had to tell you.
All of me is for all of you. Wholeheartedly and completely.

i just love drarry a lot

like for draco its almost easy. easy to see how someone could fall in love with the Boy Who Lived. but he doesn’t. he falls in love with Harry Potter who is kind and sometimes arrogant. he’s got a temper and he’s also so loyal and loving and Good. draco has had these Feelings™ for so long for Harry. just longing. wanting to be his friend,then determination and rage. if not his friend, then his enemy. but mostly just wanting his attention. like SEE ME. bc everyone else is so impressed with the mask he puts on, was taught to wear. but not harry. Harry makes him feel angry and ashamed and embarrassed, lights him up like nothing else can.  and when the war happens and everything goes dark and horrible, Harry is still the light, the hope. even for him, a coward who made bad choices. and afterwards, he sees how…different and broken harry is. but also how amazing. bc this boy, now a man, has been through SHIT. shit like abuse and neglect, depression and grieving, rage and fear. he’s faced DEATH. not just the death of the people he’s loved, friends and family, but his own death. looked it in the face, accepted it, for the whole world. and instead of being cold and bitter (he can sometimes be) he’s still kind. he’s still kind of naieve. he still tries to be friendly and cares for others. he’s still trying to live, to make the best of a second chance. 

for Harry it should be harder to fall in love with Draco Malfoy. bc he’s seen how cruel and arrogant and horrible he can be. he’s seen him as a coward and a near killer. he’s seen malfoy at his worst. and maybe it used to disgust him but, now it doesn’t. bc as time goes on, he also sees the good. the boy who sucked so hard at being a death eater. who couldn’t kill, who loved his mother and father so much he looked evil in the face and held himself out for it to save them. draco has ALWAYS gotten to him.  even later when they’re no longer bound by hate, draco shoves all his emotions to the surface. instead of pitying him, instead of acting like he’s a hero,he acts normal around him. like he’s just harry. like he’s a normal boy.  draco makes him feel and think and be alive.  draco challenges him, makes sure he’s never too arrogant, makes it so he’s never too serious. pushes him to be better, never lets harry think he’s exhausted his use as the hero of the wizarding world. 

it should be impossible for them to fall in love and stay in love but somehow its actually easy. not their relationship itself, because it can be hard sometimes like any relationship is. they fight, they know each other’s weak spots, they have their own faults, their insecurities but they also make each other laugh. they’ve come through a war, and they heal together. they talk about all the pain, the fear and sorrow. they share meals and learn each other’s quirks and habits. the aloofness that draco sometimes wears as a shield, the sharp things he says when he’s feeling vulnerable and harry learns how to disarm it, to make it all okay. draco see’s how sometimes being in public, being in small spaces, affect harry and he learns to help him out of the situation. he learns how to handle his temper, his anxiety and depression. they learn each other’s triggers and work together to make it be as okay as it can be. they both went through hell, through death and fire, evil and sorrow and came out alive and better. 

my mum thinks I’m angry about the leave vote just because it’s not what I wanted and to “not worry, it’ll be fine - look how much freedom and control we’re going to get!”

but she seriously doesnt get it

like not at all

I’m angry because her generation, the generation who had it all in the post-war boom, who have travelled freely all over Europe, who got free education and low house prices have ruined it all for us, then blamed it on a European Union which has brought peace and stability to our world. 

I want to go to university in Scotland and spend a year abroad, hopefully in Germany or Austria. Scotland are now wanting to leave the UK having voted to remain in the EU and now being pulled out of it by arrogant English twats, and the chances that the ERASMUS scheme will remain when we leave are literally 0.  All my dreams for the next 5 years are directly put into doubt because of a decision my parents made and that I voted against.

I’m angry on behalf of my friends, some of whom are only a few months younger than me, who couldn’t vote in the referendum which will change their lives completely - including friends who were hoping to study in Europe who may see that chance taken away. 

I hate that they think I’m stupid and naieve. I’m a history student so my mum thought quoting Churchill at me would win me over. It didn’t. Churchill was an amazing man, who lived in a pre-globalised world where the rest of Europe had devastated by two world wars and was still piecing itself back together. In our world of globalisation, of interdependence and integration, this was the last thing we needed. I can see events of the early 20th century quite easily repeating themselves again and that idea terrifies me.

I’m angry because my future has been decided on racism and lies. This is not the world I thought I lived in. 

Manifest. Chapter 6

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6:

The room had felt small, this much I could remember. Bodies stood far too close together for my liking, even if they were feet away from me. The red walls, and shiny black floor could be mistaken for elegant to a stranger, but even then I’d known better than to be that naieve. Blood stained the walls… the floors and it seeped into the very foundation of the red room. Hydra’s connection to the KGB had been a fruitful relationship and had resulted in numerous programs. Each program churned out assassin after assassin, but that wasn’t something I wanted to be. I didn’t ask to be stuffed into a tight black uniform and forced to stand in this hellish training room. I didn’t ask to call this place my home and I certainly didn’t ask to be brought up in this chaos, but none of that mattered.

My wants when ignored as sweat clung to every inch of my neck and forehead, my breathing ragged as I stand perfectly still. Every time I was in this room I felt on edge. My eyes would always survey the room in caution my hands, balling into tight fists as I await whatever was going to happen next. Each time I did this I made sure to watch the take man standing across from me. I’d had the same trainer since I turned fourteen years old and he’d only grown more vicious in time. He’s a year older than me, his black hair slicked back as his dark brown eyes glare into my soul. The red room was loud around me, almost too loud for me to think, let alone concentrate. I’d been spending the last three hours sparing, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to doubt my abilities. I needed a break… I needed a moment to think and recharge, but my trainer wouldn’t let up… no, he intended to break me.

The man across from me takes a step forward, knowing full well that I won’t be able to stop him as he knocks into me with everything that he has. I try to push him back, to punch, or kick but he has other plans for me. Instead he forces me back, his hands quick to shove me to the ground. My elbow slams against the hard mat beneath me, the surface harder than stone. Upon impact my eyes close and I wince at the pain that shoots up my arm. The moment I wince I feel his eyes narrow, I’d been taught that pain shouldn’t stop me. I’d been taught that showing any emotion was weakness… something Hydra couldn’t afford. The Hydra mentor rolls his eyes when I don’t immediately get up after he’s knocked me to the ground.

“Get up and try again Pierce.”

He spits the words at me without apology and his eyes narrow when I don’t move from my place on the floor. Every piece of my arm ached horribly and every fiber of my being was ready to give up. I didn’t want to do this and a part of me knew that I shouldn’t have to. My silence wills him to speak again and this time his words come out like a poisonous toxin meant to kill me on impact.

“Get up and try again…”

He prounces the word carefully, each syllable carefully crafted.

“… In the real world, when you’re out there in combat, you’re going to be fighting someone who’s going to hit you a hell of a lot harder than I am. So put on your big girl panties and fight back. Now.”

I mentally roll my eyes as I study him from my position on the ground. He was right, but that didn’t motivate me in the way that I knew he hoped it would. Instead I feel my brows furrow and a shaky breath fall from my lips. I’d been training with Hydra since I was seven years old, but when I turned 17 they suddenly felt the need to up their antics and put me through hell. Now it was eight hour trainings every single day on top of working my position within the Hydra ranks. Perhaps they thought I could handle it because I was Alexander Pierce’s daughter, but the truth was genetics had nothing to do with my talent. No, the torture I dished out was all seared into my soul and meshed into my every action.  

A groan brushes past my lips as my bruised and swollen hands rake across the cool cement of the floor. My lips tremble as my eyes narrow and I attempt to push myself up off of the hard ground I’d landed on. My arms shake as I try with everything I have to get myself up off of the ground. I take my place on the mat and put my fists up readying for whatever was going to happen next. No words are said as my trainer and I look at each other. The man in front of me stands, his face annoyed. He offers me a mean glare as he stares back at me. It’s almost as if he believes that the ass whooping he served me was something I wanted. His smirk grows, a gesture that makes his face look older than it is… His time in Hydra wore on his face like a stain on a white t-shirt. He watches me closely as he prepares his body for a fight. But while he looks focused, I look at him in a haze. He takes a step forward, his fists ready, but before I have the chance to dodge him or block him, his knuckles jab me in the ribs knocking me back to the ground.

His ability to knock me over without any success on my end pisses him off and I can see it in his eyes. A frustrated sigh pushes past his lips as he turns from me and looks to the wall behind him his eyes finding the men watching us train. They stand along the wall and watch on with critical expressions. There are five men in total, but it’s the fifth man who stands out to me. Everyone else looked cold, their bodies like stone as they watch on happy in the mist of the chaos. But the man who catches my attention doesn’t look like them, he’s not happy with the chaos in fact there aren’t any emotions on his face. My trainer backs up when he realizes that I no longer care if he hits me again and when he does my eyes follow him. He walks to one of the other members and begins whispering something I cannot hear. A sigh of defeat brushes past my lips and my jaw clenches as I watch the person he is speaking with chuckle and turn to the man next to him. My stomach turns when my gaze meets the man, the man with the pale blue eyes who stares back at me the moment the man in the middle mouths my name. The man seems oddly out of place… as if he’s someone out of his own time. My eyes narrow as he looks back at me in confusion, his hair hanging in his face when he shakes his head ‘yes’. He’s wearing a long sleeved leather jacket that fits along his body tightly, but what really captures my attention is the way his knuckles catch the light. It’s only a hint of silver that tucks out from under his black leather sleeve, but it’s enough to catch my attention. Upon realizing where my gaze was the man moves his hand behind his back, clasping both of his hands together as he watches me like a hawk. He mutters something back to my trainer and the man in the middle, his gaze dangerous.

I didn’t know this man, but I knew I’d seen him before… I’d seen him when I was a little girl. I’d heard about him from my father, in the bedtime stories he’d let horror me. My brow furrows at the thought, my brain instantly aware that there is no possible way that, that could be true… the man’s face hadn’t changed in the years that had passed… no he looked the same, except now there was more pain in his eyes. I could see pain in his soul and anger etched into what little view of his face I am offered. His chest heaves up and down as he breathes a deep sigh. It’s when he does that this I realize what I am looking at is a ghost… an apparition of something Hydra had weaved into its past. He appeared now like a manifestation mocking my existence. I had thought he was just a ghost story invented by my father to torture me at night. At the thought my brows furrow and he knows that I’m connecting the dots and as I do a smirk falls on his lips… a cruel smirk that isn’t his… it’s a Hydra made smirk. One that only an assassin like the Winter Soldier could possess.

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This song is overplayed but I still LOVE it.

His accent when he says words like “fond” is hella attractive.