#I still can't find my Berlin photos

[morethanaloveinterest]

A Far Out Look at Gaby Teller's Costumes in the Man from U.N.C.L.E.

The fashion in this movie is amazing, let's talk about specifically what Gaby is wearing and what it tells us about her character.

We meet Gaby working as a mechanic in East Berlin. So obviously the this the least put-together we ever see her. I couldn't get a good picture of her jumpsuit but it seems pretty standard. The scarf in her hair is rather fashionable, hinting at what is to come.

Female representation: 10/10 It looks mostly like what a real mechanic would wear, with nothing to emphasize that she is a female mechanic (other than her nice scarf).

Practicality: 10/10 Presumably the most practical thing we see anyone wear in this movie

This is one of the dresses she tries on while getting under cover. I wish we had gotten more of a montage of her different outfits but this one is pretty fun. It is a vast improvement over the one Solo had her wear first. The orange coordinates with what she wears in the climax, which is fun. And perhaps a nod to the fact that she is playing a part here as much as she will be then.

The dresses she wears going forward are all of the same style, chosen to be both 60s and modern. Watch this video by Cinema Cities for more on the choices made for the costuming. As is discussed there, the choices for Gaby are young and fresh, with bright colors. Geometric patterns, mod shape, an emphasis on legs instead of the hourglass. She stands out from the other leading lady, whose costuming is very complex - doing the most with her hair, make-up, accessories. Gaby, on the other hand, tends to wear earrings and a ring or a bracelet.

Female representation: 10/10 She looks fantastic, even for this short scene in the boutique, and is a spy being outfitted to go undercover. This scene establishes what her style is without deciding to ogle her at any point.

Practicality: 9/10 Compared to the jumpsuit, it's obviously less practical but it's pretty great in general.

Now undercover in Rome, Gaby wears a white dress with an overcoat that we also see worn with the other dresses. Both are very stylish and fit the silhouette that was popular in the 60s. As far as being fully white goes, that makes sense for a scene in which she is out for a walk with her assigned fiancé, making sure that their cover is convincing (even when they are mugged). White emphasizes her status as a pawn in the game right now (as does the shape of the outfit), as well as implying a woman in need of rescue. It is effective way to trick both their marks and her fellow spies into considering her to be helpless.

Female representation: 10/10 Still fantastic, gonna break my rating system. She looks good but is not eye-candy despite her role in the film.

Practicality: 9/10 The coat doesn't seem especially warm but the ensemble is certainly practical for what she is doing.

She wears this dress to the races, including a large hat, to meet with Uncle Rudi as well as Alexander Vinciguerra. It is her first job as a spy and this dress reflects that. Instead of pure white, most of it is green, a color generally associated with duplicity (like a snake). The scene includes Gaby doing quite a bit of angling to move the mission forward, which involves playing up what Solo and Kuryakin believe she is there to do as well as her own agenda, so while she isn't exactly a double agent, she is certainly deep in the plot.

Female representation: 10/10 These are all great, what can I say?

Practicality: 9/10 As above, perhaps not as useful as her jumpsuit, especially considering she does work on a car in this scene. But it certainly serves her purposes.

I couldn't find a photo, but I couldn't leave out her charming pajamas. She wears these in two scenes with Illya Kuryakin, when they are hanging out in their hotel room. The first night, she insists he dance with her and the second night she appears to betray him. So the outfit itself is mostly grey, since we can't be sure what her motivation is (until later in the movie). Plus they look like great pajamas, especially for being undercover and having to share a room with a stranger.

Female representation: 10/10 Some of the best pajamas I've seen a lady wear on film, especially for a spy movie.

Practicality: 10/10 They seem to be very practical, especially for wrestling.

And here is the showstopper. Gaby wears this for the climax of the film, through a lot of twists and turns. It is the same silhouette as the others, though the neckline is a bit more formal. Following the theme of the last dress, she started in white and now appears to have added a lot of cover on top of the white. The pattern is also reminiscent of camouflage. This makes sense because now is when her status as an agent all along is revealed, as she appears to betray first Kuryakin and Solo and then deceives the Vinciguerras along with her father. Again, she has minimal accessories in contrast to Victoria and she sets herself apart from everyone else in this outfit as she does so in the movie as well.

Female representation: 10/10 For a double-agent and/or damsel in distress, she is very well dressed indeed

Practicality: 9/10 It works well enough but I'm sure she wishes she had something else to wear when they are going off road through the rain.

The final shot, where the team is now put all together. The show features just the gentlemen and it's great to have her be at the center (the lack of a sequel is devastating). She is back to wearing a white dress, now that her true role in the story has been revealed and she made a significant contribution to the cause in the process.

Female representation: 10/10 Again, it is fantastic, especially for the female member of the spy team

Practicality: 9/10 Same as the others, I daresay

Want to hear more of my thoughts about female characters and fashion? Check out my other costume reviews or my YouTube channel (episode on Gaby out now!)

[poetrex]

Photographs Don't Show That Anymore

[F]Sunlight was more [Fmaj7]golden in the [Bb]Eighties; The [C7]film & photo[C]graphs, they do not [Am7]lie.[F] [A7]Things, they were more [Dbdim]orange, &[A7] kinda [D]grainy— & we [A7]rode our bikes out [A9]late until [C]The moon rose over [C7]Shanty Hill, [F]Streetlamps filled the [Fmaj7]night with much more [Bb]mystery. We [C7]drank in parks and [C]smoked inside the [Am7]bar.[F] Oh, I'm [A7]livin' that Late [Dbdim]nineteen-hun[A7]dreds his[D]tory, When [A7]phones hung on our [A9]walls from cords We [C]tied in knots [C7]when we got bored. [F]But kids these days, they [Fmaj7]don't know how to [Bb]do that. I [C7]can't say I re[C]member how my[Am7]self.[F] [A7]Sunlight was more [Dbdim]gol[A7]den—but [D]you knew that. I [A7]let the tires [A9]run out of air, I [C]put my dreams up [C7]on the shelf. [F]But somewhere, [Dm]deep down, I've still got it [F]in [Am]me: The [F]willow tree; the [A]streetlamp; and [Dm]the dark. [F]And somewhere out there, [A7]always [Dm]one more [Bb]mystery. The [A7]Berlin Wall was [Dbdim]not so [A7]far As [C]midnight on the [C7]VCR. [F]And not all of our [Fmaj7]cars came with a [Bb]seatbelt. Yea, [C7]we rolled down the [C]windows with a [Am7]crank.[F] [A7]Rewound our [Dbdim]cassette tapes[A7] with [D]a pencil. [A7]Dialed random [A9]numbers, Got [C]the cops called on a [C7]prank. [F]And kids these days, I [Fmaj7]don't know how they [Bb]do it. It's [C7]not that I'm too [C]old to learn new [Am7]tricks.[F] And [A7]if this is the [Dbdim]Future, I'm [A7]in[D]to it— But [A7]every now and [Dbdim]then I need [A7]my [A7]Late 1900s fix.[Dm] [F]‘Cause when I was a [Dm]boy, my momma [F]told [Am]me, As she [F]brushed a lock of [A]hair from out my [Dm]face: [F]The years fly by, but [A7]only these [Dm]moments [Bb]hold me. Then she [A7]tucked me into [Dbdim]bed [C]As she sang Chantilly [C7]Lace. & she said, [F]Sunlight in the [Fmaj7]Sixties [F]was more [Bb]golden When we [C7]thought those Cuban [C]Missiles'r gonna [Am7]fly.[F] [F]When you get the chance [A]to make your memories, [Bb]hold em; When [A7]Paul McCartney beamed on [Dbdim]Channel 3, [C]We screamed until we [C7]died. [F]Yea, sunlight in the [Fmaj7]Sixties [F]was more [Bb]golden, [A7]But the future always [Dbdim]finds you [A7]far too [Dm]soon. Your [F]momma’s much too [A7]young to feel this [Dm]old, and[Bb] [A7]I can’t believe [Dbdim]we argued over [C]Elvis & Pat [C7]Boone! 'Cause [F]we're all much too [Dm]young to feel this [F]old, and[Am] [F]Nothing is the [A]way it was [Dm]before, [F]And somewhere out there, [A7]sunlight still [Dm]is golden[Bb] [A7]But the photographs… They don't show that any[Dm]more.[F][Bb][A7][Dm] (They’re bad at! bad at! they scatter the glamour the gloom!) No, they don’t show that anymore. (They’re bad at! bad at! that data! the digital boom!) They don’t show that anymore! (They’re bad at! bad at! that glittery goldeny hue!) They don’t show that anymore.

[endlich-allein]

Day 10 — Favorite Live Photo

Ah I love the questions about the photos! I love live pictures, it's one of my great passion in life ! I can't thank enough the professional or amateur photographers for the wonderful pictures they give us of Rammstein ! Thank you !

Some time ago, I already told you about my favorite picture of Till of all time. Well, he has a lot of pictures of Till that I like, on the last tour for example, I was completely obsessed with this photo :

Credit to @ plan.ahoi (Olympiastadion Berlin, 05-06-2022)

I used it as a wallpaper for a while. I can't really explain why I like it... the arms maybe, I think I am an arm fetish... And I love black and white photos, I find that it gives something unique to a photo, especially tour photos, where sometimes it seems like all the photos look the same (because the shows are all more or less the same in terms of light and colours).

Anyway, this challenge is about the whole band, so I'm going to talk about my pictures of the guys on stage ! As you may have guessed, I am unable to choose just one so here is a small selection of photos I like to see.

First of all, what I like is when photographers capture moments of interraction between guys. How do you know a band is still alive ? When they are performing. How do you know a band is alive and well ? When they are having fun and enjoying themselves doing what they love. But there aren't many of those, I think it's easier to film than to photograph. And I feel that the bigger their scene, the more the guys feel the need to create interactions. But I like their moments of fun, of tenderness, when they reassure each other, I like to know that these moments exist. I was lucky enough to capture one of these moments myself last year. As I write these words, there are three pictures that come to mind instantly, here they are (attention spoilers of day 30) :

Credit to Alex Mitram (Zenith de Lille, 09-02-2005)

Credit to Jens Koch (Ullevaal Stadion, Oslo, 18-08-2019)

Credit to @ bird_secret_domain (Merkur Spiel Arena, Leipzig, 18/19-06-2022)

I also really like the panoramic photos of the stage. In particular the monumental stage of the 2019-2022 tour. But I must admit that the second and smaller stages are also very photogenic, and I'll give you two photos that really impressed me :

Credit to Anthony Alan (San Antonio, 17-09-2022)

I also like the photos taken from the stage where you can see the audience. I find it really impressive. I don't know how the guys manage to get up on stage with all those people. I couldn't do it. But, it's a great view :

Credit to Jens Koch (Olympiastadion, Berlin, 22-06-2019)

Credit to Jens Koch (Olympiastadion, Berlin, 04-06-2022)

And finally, my favourite photos of the band on stage are the ones where all six of them are lined up, facing us, facing their audience. I like these photos because it shows their unity, a unity of the band, not in the face of hardship, but in the face of success. A success that could have torn the group apart. What are they thinking when they stand like this ? Are they enjoying the moment ? Do they realise how far they have come since Till had to record his voice under a blanket so as not to disturb the neighbours ? Anyway, I really like these pictures !

Credit to Olaf Heine (O2 World, Berlin, 26-11-2011)

Credit to Olaf Heine (RockOut Fest, Chile, 03-09-2016)

Credit to Jens Koch (Bjerge Sydstrand, 24-07-2022)

[bromcommie]

Hiiii, I’m here with some ask game things!

🦴🌸 pretty please!

Hiii, tysm for the ask! <3 🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  Oh god, this is such a fun and insanely difficult question. I truly apologize in advance for how long this is about to get because I'm blanking and also can't pick a single thing to save my life. I feel like I'm still in the beginning of trying to figure style out so inspirations keep changing, but right off the bat Richard Siken was a big one that's recently made a comeback. Pretty revelatory to little me at 15 and still very much an influence many, many years later, especially when it comes to poetry. There's just something to how he weaves his wording from tender to violent + that dream-like, stream of consciousness structure, striking visuals about relatively mundane things and a consistent thread of hope and wonder despite the darkness throughout that I find just lovely. Kurt Vonnegut is also a big nostalgic classic from those formative years. Still very much love the tongue-in-cheek humor and the roundabout storytelling of an eccentric old uncle used to address very real and often grim topics in a very human, grounded way. Just about anything that deals with non-linear time, dreams and memory, too. Everything by Tarkovsky, even though I feel like an absolute asshole bringing his genius up while talking about my writing hobby, let alone my silly little fics, but listen, I was a film major. What can you do. Forever enamored with that man's work.

(Dialing it back a little: I'm also rewatching Russian Doll which does memories and trauma reconciliation and the surreal really well while also juggling humor. It's still somewhat painful, but at least it's also very fresh and funny and very full of life. Would love to be able to write a script with that combo one day.)

In terms of some of the general stuff that extends to fanfic-inspiring as well, I'll always have a soft spot for Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay for many, many reasons. It's beautiful, it's sharp, it's creative! It's a (very) sprawling love letter to the Golden Age of comics and the very ongoingly relevant origins of Captain America! To New York in the 30s-50s! To youth and ideas and intersecting identities and illusions of escape and found family! To coming of age and hope and grief in the face of a rapidly complicating world! To meticulous, meticulous historical research! Michael Chabon, I'm in your goddamn walls. Throw in some basic staples of the WWII mini-series genre, + Babylon Berlin and Chernobyl and a bunch of MKUltra paranoia thrillers for fun times with WS-centered darker undertones and political elements re: the '30s and Cold War era, and there you have it. So that is... way too many things off the top of my head and none of them are necessarily all that reflected in my writing yet, however! They do inspire me. 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

yes I do! They’re dumbasses in two completely different ways (can you tell?) and the absolute bane of my existence. And I would die for them, I really would.

wish I had some better photos but I cleared out my phone recently :(

[jgroffdaily]

Jonathan said he was first alerted to Merrily We Roll Along through the Lonny Price documentary 'The Best Worst Thing That Had Ever Happened'.

Jonathan was asked to join the cast on 23 January 2022. Jim Carnahan was one of the members of his quarantine film club, and Jim told Jonathan he was in consideration for the revival and did he know the show. Jonathan then watched Maria Friedman's London production on YouTube and he "immediately said yes".

He shares a dressing room with Daniel Radcliffe and Reg Rogers and wants to do another show immediately after each performance. He said the show is so much fun, the group believes in the show so much, and they feel lucky and honoured to be in the show.

Jonathan, Lindsay and Daniel all made their Broadway debuts in 2008.

Jonathan met Stephen Sondheim once in 2010 while performing in Deathtrap. He went to the first performance of Into the Woods at Regents Park and met Steven while waiting for the cast to come out. "He was so warm and nice and I was completely starstruck. He had come to see Spring Awakening but I hadn't met him then and he came to see Hamilton.'

An audience member at Merrily the day before had told Jonathan at the stage door he was at an off-Broadway performance of 'A Strange Loop' on the same day as Sondheim, but they didn't meet.

Jonathan said the rehearsal process was extraordinary. Everyone felt lucky and honoured to be diving into the material, and the creative team, who had worked on it 10 years ago, knew it so well. He learned a lot from Maria Friedman about Sondheim, the show, and his lyrics, and he says everyone was 'elevated' by her knowledge and experience. Maria says Sondheim is still the smartest person in the room.

Jonathan says doing the show is like "going to psychotherapy and is endlessly fascinating, endlessly challenging, and I have never felt so alive, moment to moment, in a piece before." "I can't wait to get there every day and learn something new."

The Singing Forest with Olympia Dukakis in 2009 was rehearsed at the New York Theatre Workshop.

Acting influences include Olympia and Michael Mayer (a lifelong friend, guide and shaper). He says he takes acting experiences to grow and change, more than anything else. All he ever wanted coming from Pennsylvania was to be a part of the New York theatre community, and that is his biggest influence. He is still watching as many shows as possible. On his days off during rehearsals for Merrily he saw A Man of No Importance, Leopoldstadt and Topdog/Underdog. He still loves getting on his bike and watching great actors (and says this is why he will always live in New York).

Theatre is still his biggest, deepest love and ignites a "deep, primal passion and I love acting. I do enjoy the intimacy... and theatre aligns with my natural personality [to do the same thing every day]." He finds film and television more difficult as the work changes every day, but keeps him sharp and thinking.

He says he in his happiest state right now doing Merrily and knowing he will do a Broadway run. But theatre and television is helpful for his growth as an actor to work in different locations, be involved in the culture of different countries such as Berlin, learning different skills, and working with different directors and actors.

Host Michael Portantiere said he recently sent Jonathan a photo of Jonathan's billboard for Knock at the Cabin on the back on the Wintergarden Theater where Sutton Foster is now performing in The Music Man. Asked if he could do one show with Sutton Foster, he would want to be in an original musical and watch her work.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (Year 4, first week!)

How shall I open 2024 [since 'The Zone of Interest' is not streaming yet]?

It has to be something special; A re-watch of René Laloux's psychedelic allegory Fantastic Planet?

Mysterious mythology, straight out of the pages of The Voynich manuscript [and which directly inspired the Codex Seraphinianus, another unfathomable world-building vision]. The suffering humans, used as pets by the giant blue "Draags", spiritually advanced, and still cruel to their tiny Oms ("hommes"). Excellent!'

Edit on 1/21/24: I found the SQEALER clip I used to love so much 20 years ago!

🍿  

"This is where we ended up".

Re-watching one of my favorite 2023 stories, the miraculous, fateful Past Lives. A loss of first love, innocence. With a moody, excellent score. Greta Lee is such a babe, and producer Christine Vachon, wow. (Photo Above).

10/10. I can't wait for Celine Song's upcoming second feature, 'The materialists'.

(*Woman Director)

🍿  

2 more by Danish director Nicolaj Arcel:

🍿 The promised land, called 'Bastarden' in Danish, an epic historical drama, the latest script from Anders Thomas Jensen. Mads Mikkelsen is phenomenal as he plays a similar personality to the one he did in 'Riders of Justice'; laconic, broken and impatiently resolute - but 300 years earlier. A brutal 'western' fought in Jutland's vast emptiness. I didn't know about the history of the Swedish Romanis. Savage and sentimental! 9/10.

🍿[For the first time in my life, I listened to Margrethe II, the Danish Queen, give her New Year's speech (in which she also abdicated her throne). I loved it; So humane, so down-to-earth.]

What I didn't love is Nicolaj Arcel's earlier A royal affair, a dull and conventional costume drama about an earlier queen. It was beautifully filmed, it had Mads Mikkelsen dancing in it, and a mad king who suffered from excessive onanism. But these are all the positives I could find. 2/10.

Apparently, the predictably-told story is based on interesting chapter from 18 century Danish history.

🍿  

"Garbo Talks!" and the first thing she said was "Gimme a whisky, ginger ale on the side, and don't be stingy, baby!". In Anna Christie, her first 'Talkie', she played a "woman with a past". M'eh.

🍿  

Hundreds of beavers, a bizarro freezing-cold Wisconsin indie, due to open on January 26. A drunk fur-trapper in the 19 century is tasked with killing scores of beavers so that a tobacco-spitting fur merchant will grant him his daughter's hand in marriage. Weird, wordless, black-and-white, live action Road Runner / Looney Tunes / Max Fleischer cartoons-style mayhem. The credits starts at 33:00. The whole thing is too weird. Reminds me of the book 'Millions of cats' [which incidentally was released to the public domain on the exact same day I thought of it!].

5/10 from me, mostly for innovation.

🍿  

"When the child was a child it walked with its arms swinging, wanted the brook to be a river, the river to be a torrent, and this puddle to be the sea. When the child was a child, it didn’t know that it was a child, to it, everything had a soul, and all souls were one."

First watch: Wim Wenders' poetic art house fantasy Wings of desire. I know it's considered an 'Angle-on-earth' spiritual masterpiece, and I imagine that younger-me would have find it uplifting. 1987 Berlin looked grim and lonely indeed. 4/10.

🍿  

Re-watch: The tense Emily The Criminal. A despairing Neo-realist indictment that pivots into a white-knuckled crime thriller. Without a single note of preachy commentary, it exposes millennials prospects like a de Sica. I don't recall any recent movie that described Arab-American sub-culture so guilelessly. 8/10.

🍿  

The private life of a cat, another short from experimental LA filmmaker Maya Deren. Basically it's a 'Cat Video' from 1946 (which begs the question 'What caused the first person to say, Let's make a movie about the cat because she's so cute?')

(*Woman Director)

🍿  

3 silent film classics:

🍿Buster Keaton's amusing Neighbors, a 1920 two-reel'er, a riff on Romeo and Juliet.

🍿 20 minutes of love (1914) is Charlie Chaplin's first landmark film as director. Simple slapstick, in what looks like Fairmont Park in Riverside, CA.

🍿 Should Married Men Go Home, the first pairing of Laurel & Hardy, my least favorite of the famous old silent film comedians.

🍿  

Early middling shorts by 2 Canadian directors:

🍿 (From a Letterbox list of 'Early Short Films That Launched Major Directors', which I'm going to tear through one day.)

"Well, you picked a great time to be trans!..."

We Forgot to Break Up has an unusual proposition (A former rock musician reintroducing himself to his ex-bandmates for the first time since abandoning the band and coming out as a trans man), but there's not much more there besides that outline.

(*Woman Director)

🍿 Void, The first film-school-style short by Emma Seligman (who followed it up with the much better 'Shiva baby'). A young woman likes to masturbate, smoke weed and fantasize about a boy. But then who doesn't?

(*Woman Director)

🍿  

A YouTuber named “Ryan Randomness” built a rail car and traveled on abandoned train tracks in the deserts of Southern California. Extremely enjoyable! It made me sad that I didn’t hike more during the years that I lived there.

🍿  

Throw-back to the "Art project”:  

Millions of Cats Adora.

Exploring Southern California With Adora.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Let’s chat about Anhalter Bahnhof, a former train station in the Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg neighborhood of Berlin. My hotel was adjacent to this weird ruin when I visited on 2014, and I am basing the old bombed-out train station in “Voices Carry” on it, though with certain liberties taken. What you see above is all that remains today. During WWII, tens of thousands of Jews were deported via trains from Anhalter Bahnhof. It was bombed during the war, and subsequent attempts to restore it faltered during the Cold War before the majority of the structure was ultimately demolished, leaving this piece standing as a strange testimony to Berlin’s physical history. It’s difficult to get this sense from the photo that I retrieved from Wikipedia, but it feels like this structure looms over the street when you walk past it. My American classmates and I crossed the street in front of it 6-7 times a day for a week, and it became a major topic of conversation over dinner as we gradually learned the history of the station. It disturbed us that the structure still stood, knowing that tens of thousands of Jews crossed through its arches and never returned. But we also didn’t think it should just be torn down. Maybe it should remain as a testament to the past. We didn’t know the right answer. And I think that sums up one of the strangest aspects of Berlin. I’m reading a book right now called Stasiland. In it, the author describes how Germans were undecided on what to do when they unearthed Hitler’s bunker in Berlin. If they destroyed it, were they erasing history? If they allowed it to remain, would it become some kind of dark memorial to that man? By the time I visited in 2014, the site of the bunker was a parking lot, where, as our German tour guide informed us with a sort of very, very dry humor, many Berliners brought their dogs to shit.

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Nathan Drake x Male Reader

(Find the pervious two parts in my masterlist)

From your sitting, you could see the night sky veiling the bustling city of Berlin. A luxurious penthouse with ample room to vacate people. The hours crept by behind your laptop. Steady and slowly, the night sky went dark, and the moon illuminated the long slab of granite from the table. An extravagant piece of furniture that could accommodate a tenfold of people at once. So could the rest of the penthouse.

The table lay covered in maps, layers upon layers of different eras. Folders lay left and right. The tapping of your fingers on the keyboard killed the everlasting silence hanging in the place. "Are you trying to sneak in, or are you waiting for me to offer you a drink?" You call out casually. Pushing the folder beside you to a close.

"How the hell did you know?" The voice coming from the other side of the room. With a slight turn of your head, adjusting your eyes to the darkness, you notice Nathan in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "I came in from the roof, dangled myself in through the window." Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "Couldn't have tripped an alarm."

"You didn't. I was expecting you. One of your aliases came up on one of the passenger lists earlier today." Leaning back against the chair, folding your arms. "I'm surprised you can still get away with it."

"I'm not as wanted as you are." Fishing out his phone, Nathan shows an article with a blurred image of you. Underneath the picture was a hefty sum printed in fat digits. The reward for the golden tip.

"Flattering."

"So, you've been expecting me?" Eying the room from his position. He was clearly hesitant to take the first step into the room as he put his phone away. "What and where's the welcoming committee? Bombs? Lasers? Tasers? Electrified net…?"

"Oh yeah…" Pointing out one of the two slabs of stone in front of him. "Please step on the one marked 'X.'"

"Funny." He chuckles and leans slightly forward, checking the ceiling anyway. "I can't see the anvil hanging." With the slightest feelings of mistrust, Nathan pushes himself into the room. A sense of relief washes over him as everything stays quiet. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he makes his way through the room, kicking the dirt a little. Wondering and pondering around. "So… you've been following me all this time?"

"Yes and no. Computer does most of the work." Ticking the screen of your laptop and turn in your seat, keeping an eye on Nathan. He wasn't to be trusted. Before you know it, he could probably snatch an entire map under your very eyes.

"You're saying-…" He lingers on his words, slowly walking past the large table. Eyeing the papers you had laid before you. "-...I never had the element of surprise?" With that charming smile of his, he puts a certain weight behind his question. That playful glint. Slowly continuing his stroll in your direction.

"I don't know what you had in mind." You say, and trace his every finger along with your paperwork. Watch him push aside photos. Read little notes. "But no, not since you bought your flying ticket." From the look on his face, you can tell he's trying to piece together your possible target. Scanning back and forth between maps and overlays. Trying to figure it out like a jigsaw puzzle. Piece by piece. "You're… getting sloppy, Nathan."

You can tell he's holding back a remark. Only that little smile showing. Sucking on his lips. Pushing the chair aside beside you, Nathan seating himself onto the table. Planting his ass directly on your work. He lets his legs dangle over the edge. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward, leveling with you on eyesight. "Something got you distracted…?" You go again.

"Who knows…" He grins, as if he did it on purpose, the ring hanging on this small cord slips from under his shirt. Dangling in front of you. Like a hypnotizing charm. "We were off to such a great start." From the corner of your eyes, you watch his hands reach for your laptop. You let him. With a push of his finger, he slowly pushes the laptop to a close. "I forgot where we left…"

"Probably the itch between your buttcheeks…" With your finger, you hook into the cord and pull him ever so slightly closer. Almost to the point of falling off the table. A pervy smile grows on his face as you lean in. Closing the distance and connecting your lips. It's been a while since you tasted his lips again. Felt his embrace. A feeling of longing and wanting flowed through the kiss. It's a tender start. Humming into it. Savoring it. Nathan's one hand reached to hold you, touch you, but has to keep himself from falling. Deepening the kiss in response.

"Expecting company…?" You murmur as you rise to your feet. Only leaving his lips for a second. "I can see the holster under your jacket." Nathan's legs are already spread wide open, welcoming you. You fill that space by stepping in. Drawn into it.

"Security reasons." Kissing you back fiercely. Nathan's arms wrap around you. His legs curl around your back. Locking you into his embrace as you lower yourself onto the table. "I'm also packing heavier equipment." He teases. Feeling his hands caress your sides. Feel you up. And your pockets. You keep eye contact all the while. Both knowing what you're doing.

So does Nathan. He's still a thief, after all. You try to stop him, regardless of the heat of the moment. You push him further onto the table. Pulling one arm free from your pockets. Locking his wrist on the table.

"Playing a dangerous game… Nate." And find his lips again. But work your way along his smooth face. Caress his jawline. Kiss his neck. Sucking the skin. Nathan's moans were a delight echoing in your ear. You can already feel him rub against you. Hard and wanting. "Why are you here, Nathan?" You reach inside his jacket and into one of his holsters. He doesn't stop you, he just smiles a little as he enjoys the moment. Feeling your hand brush over his pec. Those firm muscles teasing you. "Fully loaded… and a round in the chamber?"

"There's more." You notice a teasing play of fingers curling around your wrist. But are captivated by Nathan's charm. Lusting eyes gazing deeply into yours. "Feel free to… strip me of my holster." His jacket lay open, showing the brown leather double holster. The other gun still present.

"Don't try…" And smash his wrist back into the table. His fingers were trying to pry loose the steel sports watch on your wrist. The watch you took from Nathan. A shot of pain winced through his face. You detect a small hint of irritation. But you make yourself clear. "That stays with me now." And let go slowly. Nathan accepting. His arms reach around your neck. Wanting to pull you closer.

"Of all the places…" He asked almost to the point of being breathless in the kiss. "w-why… Berlin?"

"I'd show you why… If you wouldn't be all over it." And throw yourself back into the kiss, pushing aside the valuable papers and maps. Nathan follows you, struggling to discard his jacket. And you sure as not going to help him. You just feel him up. Enjoy him again. Climbing on the table. "You rather be in a warm, humid and stinking swamp hacking your way through vines while sweating like a pig? Sleep in tents… Live off rations…"

"I don't mind getting sweaty." Nathan's hand glides around the nape of your neck. Stroking the little hairs, admiring you. Accepting whatever happened next. Picking on your shirt, urging you to peel it from your body. This smirk growing on his face. "I fucking missed this…"

A sharp ring of the doorbell kills the mood entirely. Both of you shoot glances back and forth between the hall and each other. "What the fuck did you do, Nathan?!" Jumping onto your feet and take a second to assess the situation. Weigh your options.

Both breathing fast and heavily, it's the only thing you hear. Nathan is still on his back. Both on edge. Sharp as can be. Hyperfocused. Watching each other. Mistrusting each move of a muscle. Following each other's line of sight. "You ratted me out?!"

"I didn't do anything!" He hushed in a lowered voice. "I swear!" Trying to find his footing, but you don't let him. You both see the gun beside him. The distance is to your disadvantage. Nathan's position is his. You both pounce on it like a wild animals. Hands and fingers collide. But a foot to your stomach kicks both the air and the respect for Nathan out of you. A kick violent enough to make you lose your footing and crash into the chair behind you. Which sends you to the floor.

"Don't…!" Nathan's words fall short as the doorbell goes again. Voices come from the door that you can't make out exactly. Neither can Nathan as you both stare in the direction. Nathan jumps to his feet as well as you scramble to your feet. A wipe with the back of your hand along your nose affirms there was no blood. The thought spiked through your mind as Nathan's expression turned gravely. Staring at you with big eyes. "I'm sorry." Holding out a hand to you. "It-… It wasn't... I didn't mean to."

"You made a big mistake…" You hiss through your clenched teeth and ignore his helping hand. With the help of the fallen chair, you rush back onto your feet. Dusting yourself down and pushing the folds from your clothing. Nathan takes a step back as he notices your balled fist. Perhaps in time. Who knows. But you fight the urge to hit him. "I'll handle whoever's at the door. You lay low. Or I swear…" Showing him a balled fist. "I'll ask this once. Gimme… a… gun."

"No…" Nathan responds outright. Sheathing it in his holster and straightens his jacket. "I… can't let you take that risk. We don't know-..."

"Whatever happens next… is on you." You mouth furiously at him. "You know who's behind that fucking door…" And storm off towards the door. "...-you let them here in the first place, Nathan." The exchange may have lasted only seconds in total, but you can't keep whoever is out there waiting. The sound and discussion only added to the confusion. "Denying me a gun is a final piece that adds to my suspicion."

Turning the corner into the hallway, you're conflicted in either announcing your arrival or waiting. Indecision strikes you once again. Nailed to the floor. Death loomed everywhere. Nathan could shoot you in the back if he wanted you. Club you in the head. The person on the other side of that door could deliver the same fates. You swallow and mentally push yourself to open the door. "G-Goodevening." Your voice cracks a little as you open the door. "So s-sorry to keep you waiting." Stutters and the like not helping you.

Two German Police Officers stare at you with stale, cold, and hard faces. Both are older of age. A size larger than you. Instinctually you swallow from nervousness and being overwhelmed. They seem taken aback for a moment by your language. Taking a second to adjust.

"Ehm… Gutevening." The one older men spoke with a thick heavy accent. Trying to find the right words and tone. "Whe got a call from conzcering neighbors about movement… on zhe roof. Your roof. Somethzing about a man. Are you aware of dis?"

"I'm… not aware. No." You try to shake it off and cut short the conversation. "But all is fine here." Giving him a thumbs up and a fake smile. A slight unease crept in as they just stood there. Both look past you into the hallway and further on. "Nothing to worry about here."

"Are you… living here alone?" The second man's chest radio clicked and buzzed, relaying a message. It's German and spoken so incredibly quick and in an accent that understanding it was far more complicated than imagined. The policeman replied with a short answer as he checked his watch and returned his attention to you.

What was it about? The thought lingered in your head. Was it about you?

"Yes." You answer short and direct. The man's gaze was stark and penetrating. It's as if he's looking right through your lies. "Yes, I am." It takes both of them a few seconds to get the right words. But it adds to the nerve-wracking sensation and paranoia that was slowly taking over. Your heart is pounding heavier and heavier in your chest. Blood racing. Hands clammy.

"We heard zome noise when we were waiting ghere." The first policeman said, looking at you strangely. That stern gaze locking you on the spot. "Have you been on zhe roof?"

"No. I don't see a reason to. I heard nothing."

"Zhould we… come in and help you check. Just to make sure?" The second policeman offered kindly. "It's a big… place after all."

"No, thank you. That won't be necessary." Flashing him a fake smile, again, you show intentions of closing the door. "Do you mind…?"

"Is everythzing alright, sir?" The second policeman steps in, placing a hand on the door. Holding you from closing it. His eyes narrow, trying to focus on you. But the rather low light conditions don't seem to help. The other policeman takes his torch from his belt, shining it down the hall. You find yourself blinded for a second before you point it beside you. "You look… tense.

"Nervous." The other man adds with a thick accent.

"It's nothing." You chuckle politely. "I-I… wasn't expecting police. I've had a rough day."

"If you hear anythzing, or komes up…" The first policeman fishes into the lining of his vest. Revealing a small card with his name and number. "-... don't hezitate to call uz."

"We patrol zhe area ghere." And nods to you taking his hand off the door. "We're only minutez away." The sentence is meant to give you a sense of security. But it works completely opposite. The thought of the police in striking distance all the time is unsettling, to say the least.

"Thank you." With a slightly shaking hand, you accept the card. Pushing into your pocket. "And a goot night." Wanting to slam the door close. But you know you can't. The two men stare and watch you with this penetrating gaze. As if they're waiting for an on-the-spot confession. Or expect a sound coming from within the house.

"And wizh who… did we… have the pleasure of talking?" The way he voiced the question was slow, but overly intimidating. The accent not helping him.

"Nathan." You said fluently without any hesitation in your voice. And without a second thought. "I'm Nathan Drake."

"Alright, Mister Drake." The first policeman nodded and locked his thumbs in his belt. "Could you spell out your last name?" He watched his other colleague whipping out a booklet and pen.

But both clattered to the floor. Their faces contort with pain. Both men jolted on their spot. Spasms rocked their bodies as you spotted Nathan behind them. Unable to control their muscles. Pressing something to the back of their necks. In reflex, they try to reach for it, but the voltage is way too high, and a second later, their conscious slips and muscles give in. Crashing to their knees and head face-first into the floor. Nathan stood proud behind them, dual-wielding your modified tasers. "That wasn't very clever, (Y/N)..."

"This is…?!" You hiss and run a hand through your hair. Passing back and forth the hallway. Nathan meanwhile checked their pulses. A thousand thoughts and more race through your mind. The one more conflicting than the other.

"They're alive." He smiled while glancing at you. "Lend a hand, will ya?" Pulling on the arm of one of the officers. Dragging the body along the floor into the penthouse.

"What are you doing?" Stopping him. "They'll wake up... in here. I definitely don't want that." Nathan blatantly drops the body he's trying to drag. Propping his arms to his sides. Beginning to get annoyed too.

"You want to throw them out of the building or what?"

"I wanted to let them leave! Which they were about to do!"

"You used my name! They were gonna check it... and then come back here!"

"Still the better outcome." You shoot back. "Their station expects a response within the next few minutes, which they don't get because of your stupidity." Kicking one of the tasers across the hallway. "You guess what happens next!"

"You don't have to lecture me! Cause this isn't ALL… my fault, (Y/N)!"

"If you just used the door, none of this would have happened!" And turn your back on him and walk away. A drink. A strong drink is what you needed right now. You were fuming. Hot with anger and rage.

"Would you just let me-…" Nathan called out, hearing his footsteps follow you. Not finishing his sentence. "...-how about working on a solution?" A hand takes hold of your shoulder. Nathan's firm grasp. Pulling you. "There are pl-..."

A dull thud cracked through the room. A burning sensation and stinging pain pulsed through your hand. Nathan looked at you bewildered. His hand reached for the side of his face. The very spot you just landed a blow against.

It hurt Nathan for sure. A balled fist. Right to the side of his face. It happened in the heat of the moment. Clouded by anger and rage.

The pain in your hand grew. The knuckles turned red, and your fingers began to feel numb. That entire punch had reverberated through your body. You were shaking on your feet. Cradling one hand with the other. You stare at each other. You point out your suitcase, but the words stoke in your throat. "That's… That's what y-y-y-…."

You saw it coming, but also not. A cracking blow connected to the side of your head. The world spun on its axle, as a haze of colors blurred your vision. Your brain short-circuited for a brief second. It sends you stumbling on your footing. Trying to blink away the blur and dizziness, you stumble left and right. Nathan's blow hit fast and hard. You felt it through your entire body. For what it's worth, the anger had subsided. It cleared your head. But the pain was something else. The headache. Your jaw. "W-We're… even n-now." Nathan breathed out. "Fuckin' hell." Rubbing his cheek and gives himself a breather by leaning against the back of a couch. "This… escalated way… quickly."

"You fucking… suck..." And cough a little finding your balance against the table. A few meters opposite Nathan. Allowing for a moment of self-reflection. You both come to your senses. "I don't have time… for this..." Trying to shake the growing headache, you head towards your laptop and stuff.

"Hold up…." Following you after testing his balance the first few steps. "You're bleeding."

With big sweeps of your arm across the table, you collect as many papers as you possibly can into one large pile. To add to your growing frustration, important ones will fold, crease, and might lose crucial details. But you have to live with it for now. Stuffing it quickly into the folder, you continue on the large maps, folding them in on themselves.

Nathan was right. Drops of blood fell onto the paper. Forming large stains, seeping onto the underlying ones.

"Stop…" Nathan's hand smashes into yours, pulling it from the papers and documents. His other hand forces you away from the table, pressing a white napkin to your nose. "Talk to me…" Forcing eye contact up close. Wiping the blood from your nostrils with the touch of a lover's stroke. "What's the plan?"

"There isn't, Nathan. This is all I have." Pointing out the suitcase lying open, contents messy and partially spilled across various chairs. Partly because he had dug around and found the tasers, he used. "I need to gather my stuff as quickly as I can and get out of here."

"Wait…(Y/N)." Cradling the side of your face on the inside of his hand. Thumb stroking your cheek. Trying to control you. "Isn't that… a-… a… bit overreacting?"

"No, Nathan. They know my face. Your name. Europe isn't safe anymore."

"What? No… I don't follow." He looked at you confused. "You think they'll connect us?"

"I rather not find out. I can't travel by plane, train or boat. Not to mention cross a border like any normal person would. I have no time to lose. Thanks to you..."

"What kind of guilt trip are you dragging me-..."

"You changed everything, Nathan!" Tears welled in the corner of your eyes. "Always and everywhere! For years I saw you as my nemesis. A healthy competitor."

"We… still have that rivalry." He stuttered a little, taken aback by your show of emotions.

"Yes… And I'm thankful you saved me on that little gold treasure hunt. Spared me. Even shared with me. Yet you continued to hunt… less treasures… and more me… like an animal."

"C'mon. You and I got something. Like we always did, like the old days, you know, part the game-..."

"THIS ISN'T A GAME!" You yelled at him with all the bottled-up frustration finding its release. "You destroyed everything… I had Nathan! You and I were rivals and petty fugitives to the law. Treasure hunters. Mere annoyances to the system. But you changed my life forever! Because of you… I became a criminal, a tax evader, a smuggler, and a world… wide… criminal! You are the reason I have a bounty on my head!" Nathan took it all in. Watching you. You imagine him picking his next words wisely. But you know Nathan better than anyone by now. "Yet here I am… Here we are…"

"We changed." He whispered, slowly easing his lips from the kiss. "The thrill of the chase… The hunt. It has changed us. Who we are. Who we trust. And how we see the world."

"That's it?!" You try to step away, back out of this idiotic reasoning.

"Wait…" Nathan didn't allow you. A serious and concerned look crept into his expression. "I'm working my way to an apology." Pulling you back in. "I need you… t-to listen to me."

"Nathan… I-...." Your anger was sealed and locked by his lips again.

"Whatever changed, for the good or the better. I'm sorry for what I did. And what I might do in the future. I'm far from perfect. But I'm just as lost as you are. We're always on the run. If it's not from the law, then it's from ourselves or each other. Pushed by our feelings."

"I'm not lost." Trying to blink away the tears. "I… d-don't know what you're trying to get at."

"You keep telling yourself that. It's instinctual. It's a habit by now. Each treasure map I look at, each clue and trail I follow, each puzzle I solve. I keep finding myself… tracing back to you. We always find each other."

"What are you trying to say, Nathan?"

"I live out of a backpack I left out on the roof. Just like you. I have nothing left." Cradling your face with both his hands. Tears welling in the corner of his eyes. "I know what you feel." Slowly letting his forehead rest against yours. "I want your trust. I need it." His voice cracked, trying to contain his emotions. "I need you… to trust me." Reinforcing his words with a kiss. Deep and lingering. Holding you. "Please… I know it's hard after all I've done. And that it feels like starting all over again. That there's no light at the end of the tunnel. But I know a way out. Away from here. From…our… past. Our… way out."

"If I do… If we do… Is that even possible?"

"If you take this step, I promise you… you won't regret it." Pressing his lips to you. "Please… (Y/N)." He begs you, glancing over his shoulder. Time is ticking. And you know it all too well. "I will set right the wrong I did. I promise… whatever comes next. Whatever you choose. I'll be the best version of myself... for you..."

"W-Where would we… g-go if we run?”

"I'll think of something." Nathan smiled thinly, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. A sparkle of hope filled his eyes. "Far away from here. We get a car… somewhere. And just drive. There are enough mysteries around the world for us… to discover and unearth. I want to do that… with you. Instead of against you."

"Is that… why you're here?"

"I'll take a bullet for you, (Y/N)." He kissed you and pulled you in for a tight hug. It almost felt like a goodbye regardless of what he offered. As if he came to peace with whatever decision you'd make.

"If you don't want to… take this…" A trembling hand passes you one of his guns. Folding your fingers onto the grip. Turning the gun in your hand against his own. The cold steel weighed heavily in your hands as the barrel poked into his stomach.

"Shoot me… Make it look the way you want. You decide what happens next…" A tear rolled down his cheek as he gazed lovingly at you. "Thank you for listening to me." As the tear continued to roll, it caught the crease of his lips—a tender smile growing. "I know I'm insufferable."

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

[howldean]

I get that you’re a kid but you need to stop casually weaponizing the mass murder of my grandparents entire family, including their baby siblings. Using casual Shoah and Nazi references to try and score rhetorical points on the internet is what’s known as soft Holocaust denial. You take our horrific trauma and you belittle it, you demean it, you belittle and demean and deny your own soul in despicably waving around the horrors we experienced in order to what? Make yourself feel important online? Cut it out, now. Find better ways of arguing that don’t involve making yourself complicit in evil. Which is what minimizing Shoah trauma inherently is.

(heads up that there is a photo of a book burning further down on this post)

hey, thanks for this ask. above all else, i'm always interested in learning and doing better, and like you said i get that i am still a kid. i am not immune to speaking out of turn or being undereducated just because i'm heavily intersectionalized. so for context, the account covid2049 was spewing typical trans exclusionary rhetoric, bullshit, and excused on a post of mine about trans happiness. if you pull up this account and scroll through even a few posts you can see that they are EXTREMELY transphobic and xenophobic, seemingly identifying as a radical feminist and exhibiting a lot of the behaviors and beliefs of a neo-nazi. i responded to their comment about 'trans theory' being bullshit by saying that we have a nazi on our hands, and then expanding on that by referencing book burnings, and transgender science. documentation of the trans experience has existed for centuries, they were just obtuse and ignorant.

you can read about trans experience in nazi germany here (the museum of jewish heritage) and magnus hirschfeld's institute for sexual research in berlin - the first trans clinic on record which provided hrt, surgeries for trans women, queer sex education, housed a massive queer/trans library, and more - which was stormed by nazis, and over 20,000 of their books were burned here (scientific american)

looking at my replies, i likely could have worded things better, but i'll admit that i can't really understand how drawing the textual experiences of queer and trans people in nazi germany is trying to "make [myself] feel important online" AGAIN i cannot stress enough that i'm entirely open to hearing feedback and additional input, and i also respect if you don't feel inclined to educate me, it's not your responsibility to.

but i'm failing to see what's wrong with calling nazism what it is

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Backstage guests in Till and Flake's dressingroom

From Flake's book 'Heute hat die Welt Geburtstag', pages 96-98, 254-256. It turned out a bit long, but I felt it belonged together so.. 😊

"Ich (...) wanke zurück in die Garderobe. Ich würde mich gerne kurz auf das Sofa setzen und mich ausruhen, aber da ist auf einmal voller Menschen. Keine Ahnung, wo die jetzt hergekommen sind. Till hat es irgendwie geschafft, sich fertig umzuziehen. Gerade verteilt er großzügig Sekt und Wodka. Auf dem Sofa sitzen aufgeregt schreiende Frauen, die ihre Zigaretten herausholen und ungeniert anfangen zu rauchen. 'Hello, let's fuck!, rufe ich als Begrüßung und um die Stimmung noch etwas mehr aufzulockern. Niemand nimmt Notiz von mir. Sie halten mich wahrscheinlich für einen minderbemittelten Hilfsarbeiterm der sich nicht mal in der Landessprache verständigen kann. In dem Punkt haben sie ja auch recht. Natürlich haben die Gäste nichts gegen mich, sie konzentrieren sich eben auf Till. Ich suche meine Glitzerjacke. Vorhin hing sie noch über meinen Stuhl. Aber da sitzt jemand, und er hat sie hinter den Schrank geschmissen. Ich versuche, sie mir wiederzuholen. Dabei schlängele ich mich zwischen den Leuten durch, kann mich aber schlecht verständlich machen, weil Till die Musik jetzt richtig laut aufgedreht hat. Dann fängt er zu tanzen an. Ab und zu geht die Tür auf, denn die Crewmitglieder wollen sehen, was für Frauen bei uns sitzen. Ich habe meine Jacke fast erreicht, als ein riesiger Mann, der mindestens wie ein Türsteher aussieht, mich aus Versehen umschubst, weil er Till gestenreich eine offensichtlich sehr lustige Geschichte in gebrochenem Englisch erzählt. Till lacht laut auf und schenkt ununterbrochen Wodka ein. Ich erwische meine Jacke und beschließe, zu Tom ins Sackhausbüro zu gehen.

(...)

Ich sause zurück in die Garderobe. Dort ist inzwischen die Stimmung richtig ausgelassen. Die Frauen lachen und kreischen, ohne dass ich einen Grund dafür erkennen kann. Alle versuchen anscheinend erfolgreich in der kurzen Zeit, die ihnen noch bis Konzert bleibt, so viel Sekt und Schnaps zu trinken, wie sie können. Till erklärt ihnen, dass sie sich den Wodka in Wasserflaschen umfüllen sollen, weil sie diese mit ins Konzert nehmen können. Also werden meine Wasserflaschen, die ich mire liebevoll warmgestellt habe, kurzerhand in die Wasserschüssel mit dem Eis entleert. Das macht nichts, denn ich will ja vor dem Konzert nichts mehr trinken. Durst habe ich allerdings. Ich gehe lieber noch mal pinkeln, damit das Wasser wirklich meinen Körper verlässt. Das Klo ist aber besetzt, und ein paar Grazien stehen davor, weil sie sich schminken wollen oder was weiß ich noch alles. Jedenfalls sind die Türen verriegelt, und höre ich nur Kichern und Schniefen. Zurück in die Garderobe. Jetzt machen alle ein beziehungsweise ganz viele Fotos mit Til. Damit jeder mit drauf ist, soll ich die Fotos machen. Selfiestangen sollte man haben.

(...)

Da kommt Tom mit unserem Sicherheitsmann in die Garderobe, um die Leute auf ihre Plätze i  der Halle zu bringen. Ein unheimliches Gewüsel entsteht. Die Gäste lassen ihre Jacken und Taschen bei uns liegen, so dass es aussieht wie in einer Garderobe. Na ja, es ist ja auch eine. Dann sind alle weg. Till trinkt versonnen einen Schluck Sekt, und wir schweigen einträchtig.

(...after the show..)

Mit meinem Handtuch um die Hüften tapse ich wieder in die Garderobe. Dort sind neben den Leuten, die vor dem Konzert schon da waren, noch etliche neue Gäste eingetrudelt. Warum kann ich mich des Eindrucks nicht erwehren, dass sich bei uns in der Garderobe eher die kriminelle Prominenz einer Stadt versammelt? Sind das die Einzigen, die auf unsere Musik stehen? Machen wir etwa Musik für kriminelle Elemente? So hieß das in der DDR. Oder liegt es daran, dass die Leute, die Drogen und Frauen mitbringen, viel leichter in den Backstage-Bereich kommen als die, die mit und über Bücher und soziale Hilfsprojekte reden wollen.

(...)

Bei dem Getümmel achtet sowieso niemand auf mich, und so kann ich mich in Ruhe anziehen. Jetzt bekomme ich langsam Hunger. Ein paas Nüsse sind noch da. In die Nussschale hat schon jemand reingeascht, falls es dieses Wort gibt. Die meisten unserer Gäste, besonders die, die schon vorher hier drin waren, sind sehr betrunken und schreien durcheinander, die anderen kucken recht ratlos, so, als ob sie überlegen, was sie hier in der Garderobe wollen. Einige Frauen könnten sich wegen Till hierherverirrt haben, aber er kann sich jetzt nicht um sie kümmern. So versuchen sie durch lautes Lachen und Quieken auf sich aufmerksam zu machen, Andere versuchen, still ihre körperliche Vorzüge zur Schau zu stellen. Um ihr Aussehen zu überprüfen, rennen sie immer wieder ins Bad. Als ich auch noch mal ins Bad gehe, um mir die Haare zu kämmen, riechen meine frisch gewaschenen Sachen schon wieder nach Zigarettenrauch. So mache ich mir doch noch einige Spritzer Parfüm auf die Sachen. Zurück in der Umkleide, kann ich jetzt ebenso gut auch eine Zigarette rauchen. Ich habe mich kaum hingesetzt und suche gerade mein Feuerzeug, als eine Frau kommt und mich fragt, ob sie den Stuhl haben kann. Ich habe keine große Lust, mit ihr darüber zu diskutieren, wer jetzt aif dem Stuhl sitzen kann, und stehe langsam auf. Sie fragt mich noch aus Höflichkeit, wo ich denn herkomme und ob ich die Musik von Rammstein auch so gut finde. Wahrheitsgemäß antworte ich dass ich aus Berlin komme und die Musik von Rammstein auch so gut finde. Da hat sie sich schon längst abgewandt und unterhält sich wieder mit ihrer freundin."

"I (...) stumble back into the cloakroom. I would like to sit down briefly on the sofa and rest, but suddenly it is full of people. I don't know where they came from. Till somehow managed to get dressed. At the moment he is generously distributing champagne and vodka. Excited women are sitting on the sofa, screaming, getting out their cigarettes and unabashedly starting to smoke. 'Hello, let's fuck!' I yell as a greeting and to loosen up the mood a little more. Nobody takes any notice of me. They probably think I am a less well-off unskilled worker who cannot even communicate in the local language. They're right on that last point. Of course, the guests have nothing against me, they just concentrate on Till. I'm looking for my glitter jacket. Earlier it was hanging over my chair. But someone is sitting there and he's thrown it behind the closet. I'm trying to get it back. I meander through the people, but I can't make myself understood because Till has turned up the music really loud. Then he starts dancing. Every now and then the door opens because the crew members want to see what kind of women are sitting with us. I've almost reached my jacket when a huge man who looks like a bouncer accidentally pushes me over because he is telling Till a very funny story in broken English with big gestures. Till laughs out loud and pours vodka all the time. I get my jacket and decide to go to Tom in the office.

(...)

I rush back to the cloakroom. The mood there has in the meantime become really exuberant. The women laugh and scream without my being able to see why. In the short time they have until the concert, everyone is apparently successfully trying to drink as much champagne and schnapps as they can. Till explains to them that they should pour the vodka into water bottles because they can take those to the concert. So my water bottles, which I have lovingly kept warm, are unceremoniously emptied into the ice water bowl. It doesn't matter, because I don't want to drink anything before the concert. I am thirsty though. I prefer to pee again so that the water really leaves my body. The toilet is occupied, however, and a few graces are standing in front of it because they want to put on make-up or i don't know what else. Anyway, the doors are locked and all I hear is giggling and sniffing. Back to the cloakroom. Now everyone is taking one, or well several, photos with Til. So that everyone is on it, they want me to take the photos. One should have selfie sticks.

(...)

Tom and our security guard come into the cloakroom to take the people to their seats in the hall. An eerie mess emerges. The guests leave their jackets and bags with us so that it looks like a cloakroom. Well, it is one anyway. Then everyone is gone. Till pensively drinks a sip of champagne and we are quiet together.

(... after the show...)

With my towel around my waist, I paddle back into the cloakroom. In addition to the people who were there before the concert, a number of new guests arrived. Why can't I avoid the impression that our cloakroom is a meetingpoint of a city's criminal vips? Are these the only ones who like our music? Are we making music for criminal elements? That was what it was called in the GDR. Or is it because the people who bring drugs and women with them get into the backstage area much more easily than those who want to talk us about books and social aid projects.

(...)

In the turmoil, nobody pays attention to me anyway, so I can get dressed in peace. Now I'm getting hungry. A few nuts are still there. Somebody has already ashed into the nutbowll, if that word exists. Most of our guests, especially those who have been in here before, are very drunk and screaming, the others look quite perplexed, as if they are wondering what they are doing in the cloakroom. Some women might have got lost here because of Till, but he can't take care of them now. They try to draw attention to themselves by laughing loudly and squeaking, others try to quietly show off their physical assets. They keep running to the bathroom to check their looks. When I go to the bathroom again to comb my hair, my freshly washed clothes smell of cigarette smoke again. So I put a few more splashes of perfume on my things. Back in the cloakroom, I might as well smoke a cigarette now. I've barely sat down looking for my lighter when a woman comes and asks me if she can have the chair. I don't feel like arguing with her about who can sit in the chair, and I slowly get up. Out of politeness, she asks me where I'm from and whether I think Rammstein's music is really good. Truthfully, I answer that I come from Berlin and that I also think Rammstein's music is really good. She has already turned away and is talking to her friend again."

(To reassure you: later on Flake does meet some fans who recognize him and want him to listen to CD's of their band, so it's not all anonimity for Flake backstage 😉)

-----

Okay I have a request for whoever reads this: if you get to go backstage at a future gig...could you please let Flake have his own chair to himself? Pretty please? 😊 Thank you 😙

Other quotes from Flake’s book

[seriouslyobsessed]

Fanfiction Recommendations

Miscellaneous

Captain Swan

•Patience By Kymbersmith90

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495043/chapters/25786953

Any minute all the pain will stop.

Canon Divergence from 2x06 Tallahassee. What happens when Emma and Hook end up alone in the Enchanted Forest, and at the mercy of Cora?

Delena

•Remember By JCapasso

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056961/chapters/60689119

What if it really was Elena on the porch that night? If she had kissed Damon back? Can they figure out why her emotions are so jumbled up before it's too late?

Reylo

•Prepare My Ship By BensLostTookaCat (VillainTheBlank)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275541/chapters/53197069

Rey is doing some HoloNet "image maintenance"--searching for herself online and trying to curate it--and gets more than she bargained for.

The seeming anonymity of the HoloNet means that people think they can say whatever they like, however cruel or disgusting, about anyone. While Rey is mostly successful at ignoring the barbs thrown at her, she is shocked to find herself rising to the defense of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, the one man she could almost believe she hates.

"The Thirst Order" is a site and forum run by one MATT4ORDER that serves up a daily dose of the Last Jedi, whether she likes it or not. MATT also goes over the top to defend her against HoloNet rancors, to Rey's embarrassed delight. She discovers just how big a fan he is, however, when he begins cooking up a crackpot conspiracy theory that Rey, the Last Jedi, and Kylo Ren, the Jedi Killer, are 'together'--and has the photos to prove it.

•Oratorio Veritatis By diesirate

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34907326/chapters/86922001

Berlin, East Germany. 1984. Stasi officer Annegret Janssen is given a new surveillance assignment. Her target: the playwright Benjamin Solo, once the darling of the government for his staunchly Communist dramas. But with the Ministry of Culture growing suspicious of Solo's recent activities, Janssen and her partner Finn Strommann are ordered to bug Solo's apartment and listen in. To everything.

Berlin, Germany. 1996. Long after the fall of the Berlin Wall, Benjamin Solo discovers the truth.

•The Stalemate By Megastressedout584

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075305/chapters/29911434

Spoilers for The Last Jedi!

Facing a stalemate, two enemies become reluctant friends, catching the attention of a perceptive General Leia. Seeing an opportunity to take Luke's advice, Leia decides that all of Ben Solo isn't lost to Kylo Ren. Rey, the only person to ever form such a connection with her son, may be the key to saving the rebellion after all.

Benvi

•no amount of freedom gets you clean (i still got you all over me) By peterpan_in_neverland

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33882967

Devi rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Ben?” she asks, standing up and leaning against the door. “And, no, I will not be giving up on being valedictorian early.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, you can just give up on time, then,” he says. “Actually, I’m here because I wanted to take you to get coffee, and to try to find a time to renegotiate our pact for college. I don’t think young republicans really applies anymore.”

Devi looks back at Keerthi, who mouths do it and makes a shoo motion with her hands.

“Fine,” Devi says, grabbing her jacket and keys. “But if you murder me, I’m going to be sorely disappointed in you.”

“I’m not gonna murder you, David,” he says, following her out. “Though, if you died in my presence, you would die happy.”

She rolls her eyes. “In your dreams, Gross.”

--

OR; Ben and Devi were best friends before they were enemies, and they made a lot of promises

Rollisi

•More Than We Thought By electrictoes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31864915/chapters/78896044

The first time wasn’t exactly planned. Not that the second or third time were planned either, but the first; that surprised her as much as it did him.

AKA, Rollins and Carisi first hook up in 2014; after that, they can't seem to stop.

Doctor Who

•An Ending By CheerfullyCynical

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33685105/chapters/83716108

Run.

She hadn’t known where that thought came from, but it echoed inside of her, pinching neurons together. Still, she did nothing. It felt like too much effort.

Besides, she needed to be here. She was meant to be here.

“Remember,” The man, someone she cared for, said, “this is for the greater good.”

Bellarke

•Parents in parenthesis By Ideasofmarch

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449690

In which Bellamy and Clarke skip the animosity faze and start straight at co-leaders - and parents, somehow - and things turn out a lot better for almost everyone involved.

or.

The ark's coming down and the council wants to combine camps. The price? Bellamy's head on a stake.

And that's one price Clarke just isn't willing to pay.

Threegulls

•Lost By JCapasso

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628447/chapters/67596859

When Nathan loses both Audrey and Duke to the barn, he realizes how much he still cared about Duke too even after their breakup so long ago. When Duke gets back and they find Audrey, can the three of them find their way together?

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Roach's stealth skills are put to the test as he sneaks past an alleged Augustus base to capture him and gather intel about the recent EMP based attacks. Will Roach be able to impress Captain Price?

Previous Chapter : Soap - Experiment 001

Chapter 9 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"A SurPRICE Visit"

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141

400 meters outside Augustus' Mountain Base

Germany

The winds were picking up when they landed and Roach flew about a few more meters away from Price.

"This EMP blast is messing with my signals. Captain, can you find Roach?" Ghost spoke over comms, his voice crumbled over the static.

"He landed not too far from me. Come on boy, let's get a head on." Price replied to Ghost as he helped Gary get up and untangle himself from his mess. Gary nodded and followed his Captain into the edge of the mountain.

"There it is. Augustus' base." he mused as Gary scoped through his supressed silencer. Trucks were leaving the area filled with armed hostiles.

"Ghost, you see this? They're leaving the hive." Price informed the recon man.

"Aye, sir. Looks like they're headed to Alex's direction. If we time this right you'll have less people inside there." he replied. Gary wondered why they were leaving. It didn't make sense to back-up an already reclaimed base back at Alex's.

"Let's go Roach. I'll take the one on the left tower, you take the one on the right. I'm currently spotting four Tangos by the gate. Fire when ready." Price instructed. Roach took a deep breath to steady his sights, quickly pulling the trigger once the crosshairs aligned with their heads.

"Good kill. Your sniper skills are improving, Sargeant." Price mused as he signaled them to move forward. For a Captain who's left him a solid first impression as a strict angryman, Roach didn't expect the kind words from him. It almost felt overwhelming.

"You go ahead and take what's important inside that guardhouse. I'll cover you from this position." he commanded and Gary sprung safely into action, switching to his suppressed pistol and into the guardhouse.

It was simple, a few cameras, some photos of people who they let in and a few map layouts. Gary quickly snapped all of them for Ghost to see. Roach also grabbed the radio and placed it near his ear. Gary set his sights on an AK-47 lying on the ground.

"Roach, be careful when using unsuppressed weapons. It might reveal our existence." Price muttered to which he nodded. It just made sense.

"Jäeger, kopierst du?" the radio muttered. Roach's German wasn't on point and any non-reply from the other end would result in an investigation.

"Ja, alles klar." he replied, trying to replicate the accent. There was no more reply on the other side which meant Gary actually nailed his reply.

"Captain, behind that door is heavily guarded. I suggest a reroute to the back door just a few meters east of your position. This isn't Augustus' base, it's a remote research facility studying plant life by the border and he seemed to take it over." Ghost informed after gathering the photos, Gary waited on the edge of the wall covering his Captain's six. The duo proceeded as suggested and climbed over an unguarded fence.

"We're at a greenhouse. Labeled 6." Price whispered.

"Do you see any cameras?" Ghost asked.

"Yeah. Looking at the plants." he muttered.

"Circle around it and find cover behind the safehouse labeled 5. If my German is correct, the central area should have 2 scientists on their way in there." Ghost informed.

"Right on schedule." Price nodded to Roach as they both knocked them down quietly and non-lethally as they were civilians. Gary quickly slung his weapon and hid it behind the huge white lab coat the both of them now wore.

"Keep your weapons hidden, until I say so. Okay?" Price said as he pulled the bodies somewhere hidden. Gary nodded as they confidently waltzed inside the base, using their fake ids pinned on their coats for entry.

Gary watched a lot of sci-fi fics and most of them depicted labs as white walled, glass-divided rooms with hundreds of scientists working on some random machineries. Except here, it's plants. It seemed normal as if they infiltrated the wrong base. Price seemed to worry too, his steps were further apart and he seemed to be in a hurry. They were losing hope on a lead, until one armed guard, different from those outside started climbing up the stairs.

"Finally. Some good news." Price muttered as they made their way up the stairs.

"Authorized personnel only." an armed guard stood by the steps blocking the duos way. It was too crowded and too risky to engage him and press through and they both needed a new plan.

"Es tut mir leid." Gary replied as he pulled Price to the restrooms.

"It's no use. We can't go guns ablazing right here." he noted to his Captain.

"Bollocks." he cursed.

"We need a diversion." He added.

"Way ahead of you, Sir." Gary smirked and showed him his c4 trigger, pushed it and an explosion followed.

"Nice. By the guard house?" Price asked while they waited for reinforcements to assist the blast.

"Yeah."

"Quick thinking lad. I like that."

Several armed men came rushing down the stairs, yelling in a different language, all going to the exit. They stomped to the stairs and carefully breached the second floor of the building, shooting armed tangos using suppressed weapons. They had to act fast and stomp on their comms as soon as they're down so that the others outside will not fall back.

Ten guards were left behind to protect the second floor, and with the help of stealth, Gary and Price took them out smoothly. All that's left are the intel waiting to be harvested.

Gary snapped all possible evidence, every nook and cranny was investigated while Price tapped his heavy fingers on the keyboard.

"Looks like they're going large. They're planting something by the major cities cell towers. Here's one in Berlin." he muttered, printing a copy of the blueprints.

"Price! R-ch" Ghost's static crackled across their comms.

"Th- found- guards!

Get. Out. There. NOW." he added.

"Kill every civilian in there. That will let our little friends out of the shadows. I know they're after us…" a menacing voice said over Roach's stolen receiver.

"Shite. They're killing civvies." Gary said, worried.

"I'm sorry Roach. But we can't save them. It's a trap. Now protect that camera and let's get the fuck out of here." Price consoled as they continued pressing on toward the exit.

Screaming people followed by gunshots echoed across the white halls of the research facility, Gary didn't want to look back, Gary didn't want to hear any more screaming but it was all around him. Whoever commanded this act to be done must be eradicated from this world.

LOCAL MILITIA SETTLEMENT

Alex greeted the duo as soon as they stepped inside the village. It felt lively as everyone was celebrating their victory.

"Captain." Alex nodded and Price returned the gesture with a handshake.

"This is Blitz. Their leader." he added, introducing the man to Price.

"Thank you for helping us." Price acknowledged.

"No. Thank you for helping us. You have good men fighting for a good cause." he remarked, nodding at Alex and Gary. Gary also got acquainted with the leader, exchanged a few words and got offered soup.

"Tough day, huh?" Alex nudged over Gary, who's still sad about the situation earlier.

"You and me, both." Gary muttered as Alex patted his shoulder.

"We'll get him soon enough, Roach. Justice will be served." Alex consoled as Gary took a deep sigh.

"They're planting EMP bombs on major cell towers. Maybe incorporating it with them to perform large scale blasts." Gary pondered, taking a sip off the delicious soup.

"Yeah. That's our go signal. It's now a terror activity. Imagine a day without communication. International trade would crumble." Alex explained to which Gary nodded in agreement.

"Global cripple. People's minds get hurt, Economy gets hurt and we aren't focused enough to defend ourselves."

"That's what he's up to." Gary finished.

"And we have to stop it. Whatever It Takes." Alex looked at Gary with determination, that kind of pep talk that makes him a little less sad.

"Yeah." Gary agreed.

~

Another briefing, but this time, it was going somewhere. Operation Burn, the task is to eliminate Nero and all his allies, if possible. Funny enough, the real Nero burned everyone else. Whoever thought of this name was smart enough to connect the dots.

There's another person added to the team, the redhead leather jacket agent, Alexandra Ryder. An interpol agent tasked to destroy all traces of said EMP machinery. She looks tough, acts tough and basically is tough. France seemed to be going along well with her. That's a bonus for alliances such as these.

"So, I heard Price noted your sniper improvement." Ghost nudged.

"Yeah. Thanks Simon. Your training sucks but it helped a lot." Gary complimented.

"Tried talking to France and the new girl today." Ghost reported. Gary turned to him, clearly interested about his story.

"It was actually good. They're both intimidated by the mask and that's why they can't initiate conversation with me. But the talk went pretty well so I guess you needed to update your scoreboard or something." He muttered.

Gary chuckled. "That's one step towards her."

"I'll let the Interpol handle Berlin. Since it involves just the weapon, as for other news. I think it's time to transfer our two hostages back to the USA." Gary quickly turned his head back to the screen. No. It can't be. He had to stop this decision.

"With all due respect sir. I do not agree with this!" Gary stood up and all eyes were on him. He's still concerned about the welfare of the two plus he didn't want Maxine to leave. Not yet.

"I've read the report on their case sir. And it's not that I don't trust the system there but what if there's still another one in there with ties to Nero. He was able to slip by under our noses once or more times than that but let's consider the possibilities here." Gary explained as he looked around. Alex seemed to agree with him.

Shepherd let out a soft sigh.

"We'll discuss this possibility Sgt. Sanderson. You can sit down now." he said and resumed briefing.

"Brave move you did there, soldier." Ghost remarked as Gary let out a sigh. He wasn't sure on he's really concerned, the IP Address being extracted from Samantha or Maxine's smile that he will be missing if she left.

Next Chapter : The Heart Knows what the Brain doesn't

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @enderio @beemybee @ricinbach

[angelmavmurdock]

Hey guys! I haven’t been active in a while but I’m back with a new series! This is the description and the first chapter! Enjoy! 🦋💓

-

Collette Bright (preferably known as Cole) is a trained sports therapist but hasn't enjoyed her job at all, so...she quit. But on a frantic hunt for a new job, she comes across an opening for Tom Holland's new assistant. She applies and gets it. Now, on a private plane to Berlin, who knows what this new life will bring her, success, love...or heartbreak?

-

My phone's ringtone pierced through my ears as a call came in from beside me. I groaned, reaching over to my bedside table and blindly attempting to grab my phone. Instead of picking it up, I swiped it off and onto the ground. I cursed in frustration and hung of the side of my bed, looking for the glow of my phone. Finally, I manage to find it and pick it up just in time.

"Hello?" I sigh into the phone as I sit back on my bed. I don't even know what time it is.

"Miss Bright?" A woman spoke through the phone softly.

"Yes? Who's speaking?"

"This is Tom Holland's publicist, I was told to contact you to inform you that you got the job of his assistant!" She spoke excitedly into the phone.

I sharply sat up in my bed and switched my light on next to me.

"I- I got the job?" I repeated quietly, in shock of what she just said.

"Yes! Well done, sweetie. You will need to come to Berlin right away, though I will let you know about that tomorrow."

"Will I need to buy a plane ticket or-"

"Oh no, hunny! Don't be silly, we'll get you a private plane to come over in! If you are planning on taking a significant other or a friend or even a pet, please let me know so I can sort it all out." She explained kindly.

"Great, I'll let you know tomorrow. Thank you so much!" I beamed through the phone.

"No problem. I'll call you around midday tomorrow - your time - and let you know the details, alright?"

"Perfect."

"Good stuff, I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

"Bye, thank you!"

Three beeps ended the call and I finally saw the time: 04:34am.

I was going to work for Tom Holland.

I'm getting a private plane.

I'm moving.

Holy shit.

***

"Wait what?! You're working for Tom fucking Holland now?" Oona asked, dumbfounded.

I nodded, bringing my phone and breakfast over to our table and sat down opposite her. She was dressed for her fancy fashion job and was scrolling through her phone to kill time.

"I can't believe this. Why didn't you tell me you applied?" She questioned, sitting her phone down and looking at me with her enchanting green eyes.

Oona was the type of girl you wanted to be. Long blonde hair, big green eyes, perfect skin, amazing fashion sense, a great body, an extremely attractive boyfriend, a cool job and money. She had it all. Why she still lives with me is beyond me. I couldn't even tell you how we became friends. It just...happened. But since whenever that was, I've always been the ugly one. I'm not actually ugly...I just look ugly next to her.

"I didn't think I was going to get it! It just sort of happened." I shrugged.

"I can't believe you're moving out." She pouted her plump, pink lips.

I rolled my eyes, "It means your boyfriend can come over and you can make as much noise as you like."

She scoffed a laugh and kicked me under the table.

"What! I still don't know why you aren't living with him yet." I giggled.

She sighed, "I don't know."

"Well he's hot and he treats you good. Unlike other." I widened my eyes.

"Shut up, you haven't even been in a relationship, Cole." She retorted, standing up and clicking in her heels to grab her bag.

"Wow, I've never heard that one before!" I laughed.

She shook her head with a smile, "I hate you." She said before striding to the door of our apartment.

"Bye!" I called.

"Bye!" She shouted back before closing the door.

I went onto my phone and began scrolling though on instagram. A post by Tom came up.

tomholland2013: {shirtless photo}

Workin' hard or hardly workin'?

Oh wow.

I signed for this job 2 months ago and forgot how gorgeous he was. Oh man. I liked the picture and skimmed through the comments. Jake Gyllenhaal, Zendaya and his brother had all commented. I forget how famous he actually is. I mean he's a year older than me and he has nearly 40 million followers and is extremely successful. I continued with my scrolling through insta and tried to forget that shirtless photo that was probably now engrained in my head.

He's my new boss.

My boss.

Shirtless.

I find my new boss hot.

Shirtless.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I went back onto the photo and admired it.

This is creepy, stop Cole.

But I couldn't stop. He had gotten so much fitter for his new movie Uncharted and he looked amazing. He was my new boss...

I slowly started to zoom up on a certain area but the notification I got stopped me in my tracks.

tomholland2013 started following you.

What the fuck...

Does he know who I am? He must if he hired me. But he didn't really hire me, his team did. Oh god does he know I was stalking him?

A million thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds before they were cleared by more notifications.

tomholland2013 liked your post.

tomholland2013 liked your post.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! This can't be happening...

tomholland2013 wants to send you a message.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I gulped and went to my DM requests. I slowly clicked on his and it popped up on my screen.

tomholland2013: Hey, you're my new assistant aren't you? If not then I've just made a fool of myself 😅

[bopinion]

Book of the month / 2020 / 11 November / Movie Edition

I love books. Even though I hardly read any. Because my library is more like a collection of tomes, coffee-table books, limited editions... in short: books in which not "only" the content counts, but also the editorial performance, the presentation, the curating of the topic - the book as a total work of art itself.

Billy Wilder's "Some like it hot"

Alison Castle, Dan Auiler

Movie documentary / 2001 / Taschen publishing house

Samuel Wilder was born in Austria-Hungary in 1906. Via Krakow, Vienna, Berlin and Paris, he finally emigrated to the USA in 1934, where he became immortal as Billy Wilder. The director, screenwriter and producer succeeded in writing film history in both drama and comedy. His work includes films such as "Woman without Conscience", "Twilight Boulevard" and "Witness for the Prosecution", but also "The Apartment", "One, Two, Three" and "The Girl Irma la Douce". Wilder's movies were style-forming work, his oeuvre of timeless relevance. He was nominated for an Academy Award 21 times, 6 times he took the Oscar home with him.

In 1959 a sensation came into the cinemas. Marilyn Monroe proved that she really can act - and sing. Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon skillfully took the mickey out of themselves - and set the travesty standard for eternity. And Wilder didn't need color to create dazzling colorfulness - and created the funniest movie ever (according to the American Film Institute). "Some like it hot" was a pop cultural phenomenon. And his favorite movie because "it contains the fewest mistakes".

One could almost call Wilder the expert for the iconic in film. Marylin Monroe, for example, would certainly not be considered the sex symbol of the 20th century without the scene from "The seven Year Itch" in which a subway shaft blows up her white dress. "Some like it hot" also boasts numerous cinematographic references: "Friends of the Italian Opera" became a winking synonym for the Italian-American mafia, the surreptitious advertising for Shell with the iconic shell was not yet subject to commercial declaration, the puns with the film title are countless, and Monroe's song "I wanna be loved by you" became an evergreen. And only the abundance of quotations from this film: "Water polo? Isn't that terribly dangerous?", "Don't fight it!", "I used to sell kisses for the milk fund", "Mice?!", "If my mother could only see me now.", "It's not how long you wait, it's who you're waiting for!" and of course the unforgettable final phrase "Nobody's perfect!".

Mainly "Some like it hot" is a wonderfully amusing film. During the Prohibition and Roaring Twenties, two musicians (Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon) from Chicago escaped from the Mafia by dressing up as women and travelling to Florida with a ladies orchestra (with Marylin Monroe). There, between the different roles, various misunderstandable love affairs occur. But the film is ingenious above all because of the comedy of the acting. Thus Jack Lemmon celebrated his final breakthrough as a comedic actor with depth with his roles of Jerry and Daphne. And also the supporting roles are brilliantly cast, especially Joe E. Brown as Osgood Fielding III is great. As I write this, I can't stop grinning. It's about time I show this masterpiece to the kids. I'm sure the Digital Natives will enjoy this humor too :-)

Of course there must be book material for such an epochal film. Without doubt, the standard work on "Some like it hot" comes, as so often, from Taschen. And it was a premiere for the publisher and me: Taschen's first film monograph. My first book from Taschen. My first book that didn't fit into a plastic bag (yes, back then there were still plastic bags - we didn't know any better). And this book literally has it all.

In collaboration with Wilder himself (at the last minute, so to speak, he died shortly afterwards), a scientific catalog raisonné was created: Interviews with Billy Wilder, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon, among others. Excerpts from the first draft of the screenplay. Photo documentation of the shooting (in color!). Original advertising material and countless accompanying objects. Annotated and illustrated Billy Wilder filmography. Above all, of course, the complete screenplay with stills of every scene. Reading is incredibly fun, head cinema at its best. My (even bigger) original edition in yellow velour still contains - the current one unfortunately no longer, but therefore with a DVD - a facsimile of the script by Marylin Monroe including her handwritten notes as well as a bookmark with "Portrait" by Billy Wilder.

"Bibliophilic eight-pounder" (Der Spiegel), "A Book as Declaration of Love" (Film Dienst), "A Wilder gift you couldn't find for film fans" (USA Today) etc. My summary is simply "A feast of humor for the eyes and the mind". So: first watch the movie and in the days after with a good cup of tea browse through this beautiful book and never stop smiling. Enjoy!

P.S.: The inscription on Billy Wilder's gravestone in Los Angeles reads "I'm a writer. But then nobody's perfect."

And here the trailer for "Some like it hot":

https://youtu.be/rI_lUHOCcbc

[hellyeahmaxschlichter]

So... here we are, 3 months after the last concert.

I actually wanted to write something right after the concert, but I was busy having those weird "consensual breakup" feelings. You know, when you're kinda happy but also want to cry out your eyes for a week straight? Yeah, sucks. Also the photos of Jo and Fabi crying on stage didn't help

So, where do I start? I kind of lost my mind at buying tickets for the tour - Köln, Berlin, Bremen, Hannover, Würzburg, Leipzig, Hamburg, Osnabrück, Düsseldorf and Muc. I had a great time on tour:

I saw my friends almost every weekend, danced, jumped, cried, screamed sang along to all the songs as always. Also I became the incredible HULK many nights, carrying my friends Mandy or Alex on my shoulders for "Am Meer". Some nights standing on both feet, some kneeling because I couldn't get up - which made me get funny but also concerned looks by Fabi. He even asked me what the hell I was even trying to do. Talking about Fabi, somehow I managed to always get spat on by him, even more than the past tours. DISGUSTING! Next time we meet, make sure to protect yourself boy, because I'm going to spit back! As always I was very concerned about Jo's will to stay alive because of his crowdsurfing and general energy on stage - knocking over the amplifiers and shit.

The hardest but also loveliest moment of every evening was of course talking to the boys after the show, joking around, hugging them, almost giving them a cold because I was ill in Berlin and also the fucking people working for the location thought it was a great idea to throw us all (including the band) out just 30 minutes after the show had ended, and buying a week worth of socks (45€ for 6 pairs wtf, I must be rich), and saying: "See y'all tomorrow/next week!" to the boys, the merch people, Agnes, Kopfecho (omg Amy is the cutest, most badass, Pfeffi loving woman!) and also my friends.

Also I spend the night after Köln at the local police station because some idiot needed to break into my friend's car to steal their make up and some clothing AND I got ill again.

All in all, this tour was the most intense experience in my life as a fan, emotionally. Wait no, the most intense experience was seeing my face on the big screen of a cinema.

So let's talk about MUC.. weeks before, while still on tour, I was constantly reminded of the upcoming break by my colleagues since they kept asking about my next concert trip and what I'm going to do with the time and money I'm saving when the last concert is over. But holy shit, I was never able to be ready for THE last show. It was all fun, taking a train to Munich again, meeting up with my friends, BUT AS SOON AS THE INTRO STARTED I WAS CRYING

But I'm forgetting about something here. Weeks before I decided that the one and only Agnes deserved as much, if not even more, love than the boys. Yeah, she had to get used to us and we had to get used to her... but she's always looking out for us and the boys - a real Tour-Mum. And so we decided that we would get her a little Oscar statue with "DIE GEFÄHRLICHSTE TOURMANAGERIN DER GALAXIE" engraved. I will never forget how in Osnabrück, Fabi had to STOP the show because some douchbag kept jumping into our backs with full force just for fun. He saw that we were getting hurt, he saw the look on the douchbags face while jumping into us over and over again and boy, Fabi was pissed. As I said, he stopped the song (I think it was "Richtig Scheiße"?) TWICE to tell him to be careful with us, having fun is what we are all here for, yada yada and in the end told him he could stay at the side of the club and if he sees him jumping into "the girls" again he will make sure he's been escorted outside. Fabi earned nothing but love from all of us, we could finally continue the show AND enjoy it. Protective Fabi for president! But for the last 2 songs the guy was invited back in to dance and have fun, but THAT'S WHEN IT WAS AGNES' TIME TO SHINE! She came to the barrier with the most evil look EVER, holy, even I was afraid of her.. and she stared at the douch for the entire 2 songs.

So yeah, back to topic, a few friends and I agreed on the little Ocsar statue and gave it to her before the show. I wasn't there for the cake and shit, but she had a few minutes to came back out to meet me. Literally crying again just thinking about her crying... She's literally the cutest, loveliest woman it the world. I don't know what KP ever did without her. She is exactly what they needed (fuel to the fire, since she described it like that in the movie)

So, the doors opened, the supporting acts had their time, I didn't really know what to think of them.. but yeah, as I said, the fucking intro started and I was a crying mess. The END had started and I wanted it to stop.

My friends and I were standing to the left side of the stage, we danced, we sang, we jumped, we hugged and OF COURSE I had Mandy, my oldest KP friend (12 years / we met at our first concert), on my shoulders for "Am Meer"

Thanks to Maria and Janine for the photos

So, the last songs - "Springt hoch" and "Ich kann auch ohne dich" - came around and I was still not ready for that. We gave everything, even more than ever before for "Springt hoch" and lost everything for "Ich kann auch ohne dich". We cried even more than before, were one big ball of hugs and ended the song with telling each other how much we love each other and how happy we are to know each other.

And then I saw Fabi crying and lost it all again. But holy shit, I was not ready for this hug!

But what can I say except for:

NICHTS IST FÜR IMMER, AUßER IHR UND WIR!

I can't believe I have spend the last 12 years of my life with you. I could write my very own book with just stories about this time.

Thank you Jo and Mäx for this book you started writing back in Dillingen, when your band had no drummer and decided to ask the little brother to do it until you find a real drummer. Thank you Fabi for becoming this real drummer.

Thank you boys.