Engelchen und Teufelchen: “Magda calls out ‘angel’, but who should come round the corner but the old black devil himself, club foot and all.” (Ernst Hanfstaengl)

silly-crimes:

Lightbringer

As they are standing waiting for their forged reconciliation-photograph to be taken a beam of light climbs over her husband’s pale cheek, his taut shirt collar and scrawny neck, making him squint and causing Magda’s mind to dig up images of rosy lost summers: white shirts and white teeth, boyishly charming smiles and all those daybreaks she has spent fondly admiring that milky skin with its delicate bones jutting out in his unawareness, her own china doll, just like she had wished for as a little girl. 

It seems centuries ago she had found solace and fervour in those dark eyes, he has avoided her gaze all afternoon, head turned away in what she can only perceive as shame but once she catches his eyes with her own she is faced with a hard, piercing look filled with viciousness, only seeming to grow darker as he stares at her, all beatific glimmer long gone and briefly the question if it is her fault comes to her, if she has plucked, peeled and teared at him until his frail wings crumbled and his gloriole too, getting carried away in broken pieces with the wind like children blowing on dandelions in late spring. 

She feels a sharp wave of nausea at this twisted, traitorous moment of soft sentimentality and is forced to swallow hard, frantically searching for that usual gelid contempt and finds it in looking at his unfit leg, knowing full well what he hides underneath the protective fabric of that tailored suit, the shade of his skin only appearing sickly now as she concentrates on all those cruel words he has spoken to her (his old, mild voice so very distant now) and how shamelessly he has spit on their precious vows but is is only when a firm hand settles on her shoulder that she feels herself calm down – the hand of their führer, their cause, their adhesive, standing behind them like a protective shadow and as she draws her eyes away from Joseph it dawns on her that once Lucifer too was an angel.  

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you’re useless

deutsche-tapferkeit:

The venom in his voice hurt almost more than the sharp slap across her delicate face did.  Hearing him pronounce those words felt like a death sentence, like her entire world collapsing around her in a matter of seconds.

You’re useless

Her body was ravaged and weakened.  The third time in as many years.  The third time the pains had torn through her and the blood had darkened and splattered the bedsheets.  The third time that he had been forced to call a doctor in the middle of the night. The third time she had been forced to face him afterwards, seeing the stress, disappointment, and growing frustration in his eyes each and every time.  The third time that she had failed in her most sacred task.

She bit her lip as she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, his palm connecting for a second time with her jaw.

How could she go through this yet again?  She knew already how it would play out, once more fruitless and only serving to destroy her even more.  She would be broken bit by bit until there was nothing more to give, no more hope left, until she could no longer hope to recover, let alone be able to create the future for her beloved Volk.

Utterly, totally useless

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