#no i will not get over vienna because i could have died in vienna

[likefoolsinafable]

Taylor Swift, Vienna & Relatability

I keep seeing people say that "Taylor only narrowly avoided being the victim of a terrorist attack" in response to Vienna Swifties being upset at her saying nothing about the situation.

And it's driving me insane, because yes, she did. But so did we.

And it would've been worse for us. Because we, the crowd, were the target. The attack was planed to happen to the crowd outside the stadium and right in front of the doors. Do you get that? If it had happened, Taylor would have probably been the safest person in that stadium and if someone had died it would've been fans.

I was in Vienna for the concert. I made my way to Corneliusgasse (Vienna's "Cornelia Street") as people were playing music and trading bracelets. I only lasted there for an hour because even the crowd there was too much, because I was on edge as the day before we had gotten the news of the foiled terrorist attack and I spent the night crying my eyes out and having nightmares about what could have happened. Not just because my concert that I was looking forward to was cancelled (that was sad, of course, but I was lucky enough to go to other dates) but because I couldn't stop thinking about how I could have fucking died and my girlfriend could have fucking died. I was terrified of leaving my hotel bed that day and I even considered cancelling the rest of my trip and booking a new flight just to come home early and feel safe.

But I went out anyway and decided to check out Corneliusgasse and make some fun memories out of this absolutely horrible experience. And in that crowd, I could see that all other other Swifties were just as shaken up by the "holy shit we could have died today" feeling as I was. You know why? Because while I was there, someone had the brilliant idea to pop open a bottle of champagne and everyone who heard that screamed and ran away in a fit of panic. We thought it was a gun/bomb/what have you.

And the rest of the day, as I said before, I couldn't stand for too long inside a crowd, because all I could think about were exit strategies. I was scared whenever I saw a car drive by too fast, because I couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would be for any madman to swerve and run over a bunch of people. I second guessed every stranger on the street, because of how easy it would be for anyone to be dangerous.

I'm saying these things because this has not just been a cancelled concert, this has been a difficult ordeal. No, nothing technically happened to us, but that doesn't make it less difficult to go through. My mind has been in danger mode for a week, and I know I'm not the only one.

Obviously, I'm sure Taylor and the team has felt this too.

So, why is it that whenever Vienna swifties talk about hoping that Taylor would give the tiniest of shout out to us (it won't happen) we get told that we feel entitled to her feelings or that she has been through enough so she doesn't owe us anything?

We know what she must be going through because we're the ones going through it alongside her. You know who is not going through it? Non-Vienna swifties who keep telling us to shut up and "omg get over it 🙄" because they'd rather make up excuses ("security reasons", "lockdown", "she must be feeling way too sad") for their favorite artist acting in a shitty way rather than recognize that the way she is acting is shitty and callous and shows no care for her fans.

You cannot claim that my feelings don't matter and then go "Imagine how hard this must be for Taylor" IT IS JUST AS HARD ON ME AS IT IS ON TAYLOR, WE WENT THROUGH THE SAME THING. SHE IS NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN US.

Taylor Swift is an artist that has built her brand on relatability, but you cannot do that and then not expect a PR nightmare when you can't even put out the tiniest of statements when your concert is cancelled because of something as serious as a terrorist threat (and she should've put out a statement even if the concert had been cancelled because of rain by the way, it's just the thing to do). It just shows that you give the tiniest bit of a shit about the fans pouring money and time and emotions, and now even their safety, into you. It just shows an acknowledgement, a sense of respect, for the people who admire you and love you.

Yes, celebrities are often very detached from us normal people, but even if she doesn't feel any sense of genuine connection to the fans (which I don't want to believe) she should still have said something or acknowledged us in some way because she has built her brand on being relatable, not on being an aloof asshole who doesn't show care. Taylor Swift is the artist know for wearing her heart in her sleeve on her songs. It shouldn't be so much to ask that she act like a person when something so severe happened. It wouldn't hurt her image or put her in danger to even try to be a little bit genuine sometimes. Adele paused her show to put on the Olympics for a bit and everyone loved it. Taylor can survive the tiniest of statements showing love for the very fans who must be feeling the same as her.

No, I do not need her to validate my feelings, but it does make me wonder who I am a fan of and if it's worth it to be one.

[writing-whump]

Where's Sel

Seline stood in front of the hospital entrance, pulling her meager sweater closer to her body. The days were hot, but early mornings were getting colder as autumn approached.

Plus she didn't exactly prepare to stay the night at the hospital because her boyfriend had a sudden heart attack.

She needed to keep her head cool and get some things for them. Isaiah could use his clothes or at least familiar things that would bring him comfort. And she and Matt needed a phone charger and something to eat that wasn't just cheap automat coffee and biscuits.

Matthew drove them to the hospital in Isaiah's car, but the thought of having to drive herself through the tricky Vienna streets with each crossroad unique and complicated with over five different lines for four different vehicles made her want to cry.

She was just about to order a Bolt to their place when her phone died on her.

Her eyes were prickling and her throat closed up. Even from that. So much to her resistance.

Worst thing was that Isaiah could wake up any hour now and she might not make it back.

She swallowed back her discomfort at having to ask someone for help, approaching a young woman smoking at the entrance if she could make a quick call.

Dylan took it on fifth ring, groggy from sleep. "Huh? What do you want at this ungodly hour?"

Seline bit her tongue at his annoyed tone. "Hey. Sorry to wake you up...do you think you could do something for me?" Maybe that was not a good way to start.

"Like what? You know, you should really give me your apartment keys. We don't have any flour and when you just disappear on a trip out of nowhere-"

"We are not on a trip," she said sharply, her voice breaking at the end. She took a deep breath, sniffling.

Something about that noise made him more alert, she could hear shuffling as he straightened on the bed. "Wait. What's going on? Where are you?"

"At the hospital." She had to look up at the murky sky, fighting the new onslaught of tears.

"Sorry—what?!" He was definitly walking now, bare feet slapping against the floor. "Why would you- what did you- are you-...?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's a pack thing."

"So Matthew? Or Isaiah?"

"Could you not mention the names over the phone? Be discreet," she admonished. "Anyway, I need a charger and...I know you don't have the keys, but you are good at unlocking...with your shadow, right? Could you break in and take some things for Z, my charger and-"

"Good at unlocking," he growled, but she knew he was. When he came home late he tried to sneak in through the door with his shadow, which was a fine skill to be trained. Not that it ever worked on their mother, who never went to sleep before he was home. "Yes, of course. I can be there in a few." His voice softened. "Do you want anything else? Something to eat maybe?"

"No, it's fine. Could you also take a jacket for me, the jeans one I have in the entry hall..."

"Sure thing. I'll be right there." He hesitated. "So something with I.W.?"

She rolled her eyes at his failure with codes. "Bye, Dylan."

...

"You look horrible," Dylan said when he met up with her by the gates to the hospital. "And you owe me for the taxi."

Seline rolled her eyes, but she was still glad to see him. "Yeah, yeah. I get my phone charged, I'll pay you back."

Dylan offered her a backpack filled with stuff than changed his mind and swung it back around his shoulder. "Alright, you need a break. What if we took Isaiah's car, I know it's missing—that's why I thought there was a trip—and I'll drive you home? You could have a shower, some sleep and then you and Matt could switch."

"It's fine, D." She shook her head, reluctance and regret on her face immediately. Dylan hadn't lived with her for over two years, but he could still read his sister's mind, thanks.

"What about breakfast? There is a McDonald's around the corner. Some proper food and good coffee will get you back on your feet."

Not that Mcdonald was all that healthy, but it was greasy and heavy and he wanted that daunt look from his sister's face. Her skin was almost translucent in the morning light, like she was disappearing where she stood.

When she didn't say no immediately, he grabbed her around the shoulders, leading her down the sidewalk. "Come on. Breathe in some fresh air, eat, and you can go back to saving the world, kay?"

"I don't know..." but she wasn't protesting, even if she turned back to stare longingly at the hospital.

Dylan brought her inside quickly enough, ordering her her favorite wrap and a big coke and coffee for good measure. Seline added another wrap and fries to take with her for Matt, before allowing him to sit her down and wait for her order.

She was uncharacteristically quiete. Dylan didn't know her like this, lips pressed together, downcast eyes, unnerved and tired at the same time.

"It really is no big deal. I can drive you home in 15 minutes. If I get you back in 2 hours after a nap, nothing will happen. Matt would understand."

Matthew had a shadow for fuck's sake, he could take some difficulty. If he didn't, Dylan was glad to explain. Surely he wasn't wrong to be biased in Seline's favour in this.

Seline said nothing, eating obediently when he reminded her.

"Sel? You want me to call mom and dad?"

That had her finally looking up at him, frowning in confusion.

"I'm sure they would love to be here if it helped." Dylan didn't currently feel like he was managing much. Their mom would know what to do.

"Nah, it's fine." She took another tiny bite of the wrap, eyes going back to study the table like it had something written there. "I messaged her about this, but there is not much they can do."

"They have contacts with doctors-"

"In Slovakia and Germany, not in Austria. And this hospital is very good, used to wolves and everything. Austria medical quality. It's better he is here."

Dylan nibbled at his bottom lip in concern. Sitting across from her suddenly felt too far away. He got up, pushing the take out bag for Matt and the tray away to sit down next to her.

Back at home when he was younger, they used to be very touchy feely with each other. 6 years old between them meant he was basically her toy. She carried him around, snuggled with him, taught him, did whatever she wanted.

Until he hit puberty, his shadow got all itchy with unbearable energy and he found it emberassing to still hug is big sister. Witch or not, it felt too personal. And he liked to tease her about how much she still liked it, used to it all their life.

"You are always gonna be my little brother," she told him when he officially towered two heads over her.

They had their fair share of arguments and mouse-frog wars closely before she left. To be fair, he got into screaming matches with his parents at that time too, feeling stiffled and restrained by their protectivness and rules.

The gym helped. And boxing. And finding other pups to spar with and social life with his peers and playing around with girls and boys and whoever he met.

Once he got out of that heated hyped up phase, his sister was safely away. Offended by millions little things he apparently did wrong, neglected, overreacted for or scared her with, while getting used to his new strength. Maybe even showing it off too much.

Dylan was stronger than their parents. He was the only one in the family with a shadow. If he didn't want to do something no one could make him.

Except cutting him off money, yeah. Otherwise he was totally independent.

He had realized it a bit too late, all the things he did wrong. Some he was still finding out. But this, he could still do.

Shuffling closer, he bumped her shoulder gently. When she didn't react, but also didn't pull away, he slid closer. "Come here."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders was the most natural thing of his life. Weirdest one of the recent years, his tough persona, his silly pack jealousies.

But it felt right to his shadow.

Seline stiffened in his hold, which had fear stinging his chest...except he noticed that her chin was shaking and she was crying, right there at the greasy McDonald table.

He tightened his hold and she buried her face in his shoulder. Not making much noise.

Dylan wasn't sure if this was normal with the shock or if this was something more. The idea someone could have hurt her, made her like this had him flexing his jaw with anger.

But if holding her while she cried was what she needed right now, then that was what he was gonna do.

[didhewinkback]

the beholder

a something old blurb, re: vienna night 2

---

He could hear you before he could see you and not just because of the cold compress he had pressed to his eye.

He reckoned everyone backstage could hear you.

The way you were cursing up a storm, getting louder and more passionate as you went on. He caught the tail end of a “fucking unhinged cunts -” before you were stood there in the doorway, panting slightly, face twisted up in worry. 

“Baby, I’m okay -” he started to say, trying in vain to assure you before you make your way over to where he’s propped up on the medic table, your eyes darting all over his face as you gently reach a hand up to brush his hair away from his eyes. 

“Don’t placate me,” you say with a frown.  “It looked like it fucking hurt.”

He smiles in spite of himself. Leave it to you to instantly call him out on his bullshit. 

“It did,” he says with a grimace, the sharp pain replaying in his mind as he adjusts the compress. “‘S better now but it came out of nowhere ‘nd it was sharp. The medic doesn’t think anything got scratched but she wants to check again after about 15 minutes of ice.”

“I’m going to fucking kill them. What kind of selfish, entitled dipshits –” 

He’s unable to stop the snort that leaves his nose, always in awe of the way your anger leads to the most creatively worded insults. He’s not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch, but if there’s any benefit to this, it’s getting to be on the receiving end of the ferocity of your love. 

His chest warms at how protective you are, the knowledge that if you could, you’d move heaven and earth to make sure he’s safe. It’s new, this feeling of being cared for. It’s something you’ve done for him throughout your friendship but it’s deeper now with the level of intimacy you’ve nurtured over the last three years. The way you’re softly brushing back his strands of hair with your fingers, your other hand resting on his chest. Your love for him is palpable, he can feel it in the air, in your touch, in your gaze and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to cry. 

“Can I see it?” you ask softly, your hand drifting down to the compress, just resting over it. 

He shakes his head. “Doc said I gotta keep the ice on uninterrupted. But she did give me other tips for eye injuries that ’m going to need your help with.”

“Anything, H. You know that.” You look so sincere, so deadly serious that he has to school his face to match. 

“It’s a two person job, she said. Can be quite intense.” he says, the corners of his lips twitching up in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “She said ’m going to need lots and lots and lots…of sex.”

“You absolute fucking wanker.” 

“‘S what she said! Doctors orders and all that, it's supposed to really help with eye injuries -”

“Here I am genuinely scared and worried for you and you’re being an utter twat -”  

“Never expected you to be anti-medicine -”

“I’m going to flick you in the other eye at this point.”

“Heeey.” he says, giggling along with you. It’s a minute or two before your laughter dies down, your face falling when he grimaces. 

“Y’ don’t have to be worried about me, baby. ‘M fine.” he says, desperate to get that sad look off your face. “Could have been a lot worse.”

“I don’t like thinking about that.” you say quietly, and he can’t help but inhale sharply, your words hitting him straight in the chest. 

It’s already difficult enough to grapple with the dangerous elements of his job - if he thinks too much about it he’d never leave his house - but to know that you struggle with those same fears is enough to make his heart give way. 

You both exist in silence for a few moments, minds whirling. The ice starts to get at his hands, making his fingertips freeze and he slides his hand off the compress, only for it to be replaced immediately by yours. 

“Excuse me!! What part of uninterrupted means you can pull your hand away?” you scold.

“M’ hand’s cold.” he grumbles, sliding it around your waist to pull your closer, fingertips snaking  up the hem of your shirt, smirking when you sudder at the sensation of his icy hand on your skin but you don’t pull away, only stepping closer to him so he can pull you in even tighter. 

“I got it,” you say, softly, gently, firmly, as you adjust the pack on his eye. “I got it.”

He knows you mean more than the ice pack, knows you mean him. You’ve got him. How lucky is he. 

He uses his free hand to grab at your hand that’s been laying on his chest, rubbing soothing circles and pulls it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently before interlacing your fingers and laying them on his chest. Content to lie there and let himself be taken care of for once. 

You’ve got him. You always have.

---

i am 1000% not trying to dramatize or romanticize the object in the eye throw but i havent written anything in ages and this poured out of me i know i have requests waiting but it has been such a struggle !!!!! and i just really needed to get something out, this writer's block has kicked my ass. hope u like it and dont think this is too weird perhaps i will delete

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[scotianostra]

Scottish novelist and poet Naomi Mitchison was born in Edinburgh on November 1st in 1897.

Best known as a novelist and social commentator, but Naomi Mitchison also wrote and published poetry, much of which is rooted in her Scottish background.

Born to Louisa Kathleen Trotter and John Scott Haldane, a distinguished scientist based in Oxford, where Naomi Haldane grew up. The Scottish connection remained important throughout her childhood, and she spent many summers at Cloan in Perthshire, the Haldanes’ family home. Although her formal education was limited, she was steeped in an environment of scientific and creative enquiry which influenced her entire life.

Naomi married Dick Mitchison while he was on a short break from the Battlefields of Flanders in 1916, he was later injured in the war and it had a profound effect on the rest of his life and hers.

Both of them passionately wanted the post-war world to be a different and better place and were determined to do something about it, with explosive energy, Mitchison managed to write prolifically and variously; to work in the pioneer days at the North Kensington family planning clinic and for many other good causes. Her husband went into politics and she supported him and his socialist values wholeheartedly. He eventually went to the Lords and Naomi hated being called Lady Mitchison. The Mitchison house at Hammersmith was famous for its parties in happy or anxious times. The guest lists covered a wide spectrum from all walks of life, politicians, writers, lords, unknown proteges, refugees and strange lost foreigners from all over the world.

This generous style of hospitality continued at their Scottish home at Carradale in Argyll. The large house gathered in all kinds of waifs and strays among the famous and unreproached scroungers; and then the Mitchison grandchildren and great-grandchildren joined the mix. Naomi's wartime diary, Among You Taking Notes... , is a vivid description of that period, and of her own pivotal role in it.

She would go on to become a local councillor and member of the Highland Panel, which began the process of Highland regeneration, but in both roles she was frustrated by bureaucracy and apathy, you can imagine The Highlands in the 60's!

Mitchison was able to write anywhere, which helped because - as a compulsive traveller - she could get on with her writing on planes or in trains. She went to the US in the 1930s, because she was worried about tenant farmers rights; to Vienna in 1934 when the Nazi-era storm clouds gathered, and she smuggled letters from endangered people to Switzerland in her knickers. In 1952, she went to Moscow as a member of the Authors' World Peace Appeal. She went regularly to Africa, especially to Botswana, where she was made a sort of tribal mother to the Bakgatla people and helped them practically. Wherever she was in the world, she seemed to have an instinctive understanding of the country and people around her, a remarkable woman.

In later years, she was sometimes anxious and depressed - not for herself, but for the future. She often said that two wars in a lifetime were too many. She was totally opposed to nuclear weaponry and was fearful that science would destroy, rather than enrich, mankind.

In old age, she watched many of her generation die: but with great generosity of spirit she visited and comforted many of them to the end.

Naomi Mitchison spent the last years of her life at Carradale, where she died in January 1999 aged 101.

Kintyre

I wake when the wind changes. Beyond the dark Firth far, Where the waves clap and the tides rustle and the herring are, At the far side of the great Clyde the wind ranges. I wake as it changes.

If snow flew or mist blew East on the hills of Renfrew, Here, Arran sheltered, we might never know, Get no breath of sleet or hard snow, Until across the mountain ranges The wind backs and changes.

Clear starlight as sleep takes me, But a cloud creeps from the side. My dream no more ranges Through a universe at rest, But quick through the window wide, From Atlantic on the west Or from east beyond Clyde, Leaps anxious into my breast. I wake when the wind changes.

[archduchessofnowhere]

Ok for episode 4 I don't have anything funny to say so. Serious analysys/criticism I guess.

This episode covers Archduchess Sophie's death and noblesse obligue, you can clearly tell they did their research because they even have the real Viennese pediatrician who diagnosed her with typhus. Sophie's death is always portrayed in media as a sudden thing: out of nowhere the parents are recalled because the girl is sick, and ten seconds later she is death. It often just feels as if the writers wanted to quickly thick off the "daughter died" box on the Things That Happened To Sisi list. Sophie doesn't feel real, she's just an event we have to get over in order to reach to the child that truly matters, Rudolf.

In reality she was sick for weeks, and her parents suffered next to their child, unable to do anything to help her, while still having to attend to meetings, dinners, churchs and so on. Sophie's death was the opposite of sudden, they even thought she would recover after all and left her for a couple of days. Later, that she wasn't next to her child during her last days on Earth tormented Elisabeth.

Die Kaiserin is the first piece of media about Sisi that I've watched in which Sophie is indeed sick for weeks. The misdiagnosis by Dr. Seeburger is shown:

In Seeburger's defence, he had diagnosed the one year-old Gisela with teething, which made a bit more sense (why would a two going on three years old girl be teething?). The series however made the decision of removing the younger daughter from this event because their timeline is weird, so Seeburger does come off more arrogant than he probably was.

The series also showed Sophie's recovery, about ten days before her death:

The pediatrician from Vienna I mentioned before:

Two days before Sophie died the Imperial couple received a telegram informing them that the child was in a bad condition. The parents were getting ready to comeback to be with their daughter but then a medical report arrived which made them cancel their departure. Historian Martina Winkelhofer speculates the first message might have been from Sophie's nanny, who being the person closest to the girl would've noticed before the doctors that she wasn't recovering after all. While the series doesn't show this incident, this line makes me think that perhaps someone in the writing room did read Winkelhofer's biography:

I could point out every little thing they changed, and what I think it worked and what I think it didn't, but honestly I just think the biggest merit of this series is showing for once that Sophie wasn't a footnote in her parents lives, but a real person who was very loved, and greatly missed. I'm glad they did their research for this storyline.

[cazzyf1]

Quotes about Helmut Koinigg from the book 'Unsere Champions - Alles über Österreichs Jahrhundert- Rennfahrer 1900-2003'

"I helped him a few times in his somewhat chaotic career," remembers Helmut Marko. A nice guy, but a bit of a slob who had no organization - until he came to me with his contracts."

"He had a short, promising career, almost sky-storming: unfortunately an unfinished symphony. Helmut Koinigg was good," says Niki Lauda today. "But he died far too early to even know what would happen next."

Father Koinigg, a very well-off industrialist, was always against his only child racing - and never supported him.

Even from Lauda: “A consistent, intelligent guy who tried with all the difficulties you could possibly have to fight his way into Formula I - namely without any money. When he drove Formula Vee, he couldn't even pay the hotel bill at the Nürburgring...

What always impressed me about Koinigg was how unswervingly he pursued his path. In his premiere race in Aspern near Vienna, he continued to fight bravely with the ex-Lauda Mini even after the windshield had tipped out.

Helmut studied journalism and mechanical engineering at the Vienna University of Technology, where he was met by the two geniuses Dr. Get to know Fritz Indra and Ing. Heinz Lippitsch - and pass them on directly to Kurt Bergmann.

“Perhaps the nicest person I have ever met - but also the most difficult. Because he was so ambitious."

In 1974 he married his girlfriend, a stewardess: "Gaby has to earn the money that I spent on racing..." The 25-year-old is only half a year away from getting his doctorate. And all that's left to achieve perfect racing luck is Formula I.

I want to start over with Koinigg and rebuild everything from scratch. I'm taking Helmut because of his talent, his ability and his team spirit. If he didn't have these qualities, I wouldn't have signed him even with a lot of sponsorship money," Surtees tells me. Koinigg happily packs his two jersey bags for Canada and the USA

Koinigg is partying in Toronto, browsing for antiques, but most of us are flying to the Bahamas

Lauda has “the stupid feeling all day that something is happening,” and he pays particular attention. The track: even bumpier than last, with even worse vibrations. “They hit me like electric shocks,” admits Koinigg.

“It's a terrible feeling when the guard rails are staring you in the face, just 3 cm from the road,” Koinigg tells me quietly.

Five pilots are coming to the GPDA safety conference: Lauda. Koinigg, Hill, Hulme and Beltoise

On Saturday Helmut tried for two hours to call Gaby in Vienna but doesn't get through. The phone call doesn't work until Sunday morning. Helmut has breakfast with Huppert and Stommelen

The reconstruction shows: The two safety fences gave way during the impact. as if they were curtains. The bottom two of the three guide rails immediately collapsed because the pencil-thin bolts fell out. The car went under the third rail. Koinigg didn't have the slightest chance in a 2nd gear corner - whatever defect caused the Surtees to leave the road

Niki Lauda, ​​shaken, takes off his helmet after two pit stops and says to Montezemolo: Luca, it has become pointless for me to continue driving. His race director understands immediately

No part of the car that was broken wasn't also bent. But the inner carcass of the left rear tire was completely damaged and this defect was certainly not caused by contact with the guard rails. Sudden explosion? Or the infamous "slow puncture", a slow slip like the one that cost Jim Clark his life at Hockenheim in 1968? I don't think so," says Surtees today, "Helmut was a sensitive racing driver. He would certainly have felt that."

The most touching moment was years later when a particularly kind Ms. Magister spoke to me quietly in a pharmacy in Hietzing: “I am the mother of Helmut Koinigg. Gaby, Helmut's wife, was already married again: to an attaché at the French embassy in Vienna. And Surtees again had an Austrian pilot - Hans Binder. Only at Ferrari in Maranello does Helmut Koinigg's last photo hang unchanged.

The last photograph ever taken of Helmut Koinigg

[kellykswift]

Yesterday was a shock in so many ways. Not only were the shows we had all been waiting for so long cancelled, but also because we were suddenly confronted with the fact that there was a planned terrorist attack, where people could/ would have died while enjoying a concert. 💔😭

I am from Austria, and when the news dropped (around 10 am on 07.08.) that there was a suspected terrorist attack, I had a feeling that a cancellation might happen. Because the police and authorities usually do their job properly, this must have been a serious concern (they evacuated the town of the suspect until late afternoon). So I really wanna thank the authorities for acting quickly! 🖤

I am still very sad that we couldn’t go to the show as planned and that I might not be able to see Taylor ever in my home country. But I am also very grateful that this decision was made in order to keep everyone safe. Even if the danger had been minimized (they never wrote "eliminated" for a reason), there would still have been a weird atmosphere where people didnt feel safe. We wouldn’t have had the show Taylor was so proud of over the last 1.5 years. Taylor and her crew deserve better. She put her whole heart into that show and it makes me sick to my stomach that she probably feels very bad about the cancellation (please don’t).

Another thing I realized yesterday was the solidarity in the Swiftie community. As part of this small corner of the internet, we know how messy it can get within the fandom. But not yesterday. Swifties from different parts of the fandom comforted each other. Swifties from all over the world tried to organize friendship bracelet trades, and Swifties who have a ticket to the London show offered theirs for face value. I could go on and on and on about this….

I know a lot of people feel heartbroken right now, and I am one of them. But I also feel very proud at this moment to be part of this amazing community and fandom (especially my bubble here on Tumblr). Those terrorists might have taken the concerts from us, but they will never take what it means to be a Swiftie. We can get through this together. There might be another chance to see her (well, my dream would be that she adds another date for all those who had tickets in Vienna, maybe in Munich or another European city), and if not, I have made my peace with it because I ll still gonna have her music.

All I can do today is stream her songs and remind myself how many times Taylor's music has been a source of strength, comfort, and joy in my life. Her lyrics put me through moments of heartbreak, celebration, a coming out and everything in between. Since 2009, her music has been there for me, and I know it will continue to be there, especially today ( I can do it with a broken heart ).

Last but not least, I hope that everyone, including Taylor and her team, are safe, and please don’t be afraid of our beautiful country. I would rather mourn over a concert than someone losing their life.

Thanks so much to everyone who has reached out to me on here! It truly means a lot! 💜🫶

So my friends and I are doing a movie night on Saturday, wearing our costumes, watching the Eras Tour and move on from this. I am wearing a very specific bracelet today because thats what i am going to do today. @taylorswift @taylornation

[monotonous-minutia]

Le nozze di Figaro (Garsington, 2017) pt. 5

here we go! this is why I can only watch opera on the weekends anymore. it takes me all day.

Susanna's trying to block Figaro from watching the Count read the note

and we're in the garden!

she's so precious i just want to hug her

drama king

I honestly love her so much (but she STILL doesn't get her aria!)

Basilio is miffed the Count left him out of this one

this is the only part of the opera we should be mad at Figaro. any director who make him mean deserve legos in their shoes.

Figaro thinks he's so clever hiding in a barrel. Marcellina spots him instantly.

even when they think they're not, they're still perfect

she's so pretty this aria is so pretty this set is so pretty

Cherubino comes in whistling

surrounded by people who are mad at you...maybe could have made some better choices

she's smiling and enjoying his attention it's just so sad she's only getting it because he thinks she's Susanna :(

great disguise Figaro

each thinking they'll get the better of the other

once again marveling over their perfection

well signor conte?

he actually looks remorseful

I wanna believe it

my sweet child gets a happy ending <3

aww

them!!!

so pretty!

it's just so pretty!!

okay so anyway that's a wrap on my favorite production of this opera <3 <3 <3 I think I get a little too hung up on the ones that drive me crazy I forget to appreciate the ones I really love. This one's not as well-known as the Met or Vienna ones or some others and it doesn't have a bunch of big names but everything about it is just so great. The sets, the costumes, the use of the actual garden, the mixture of madcap and subtle humor in the blocking, the way it takes things seriously while still being able to laugh at itself, the amazing acting from the entire cast, the expressions, the voices, the singing!! I love it all so much and i treasure this production dearly. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a new Nozze or wanting to watch it for the first time.

[transparentkittenheart]

Bhaal's Reclamation // Astarion x fDurge

Warnings: Major act 3 durge spoilers, angst hurt/comfort, blood drinking (not what you think!), Astarion is mean to Shadowheart and she doesn't deserve it (they makeup off screen its okay), suicidal ideation if you squint, suffocation descriptions, the gang is hurt, did I mention angst?

Word count: 2k

A!N: this takes place right after defeating Orin, and Vienna is freed from her dark urges. In game your companions don't say enough about what happened to you and I wanted to expand on the idea that Durge might not feel like they know themself once the urges are gone. Enjoy. ❤💉❤

Bhaal wanted his life blood back for betraying him, and Vienna’s body had no choice but to deliver. Before she even knew what was happening, her legs buckled involuntarily sending her knees to the floor. She twisted herself into a painful and tight fetal position. Vienna’s mouth gaped wide open, gasping and gulping as much air as she possibly could. Breath had been taken from her and with each tight and choking inhale, life seemed to evade her further.

She recognized Astarion’s boots drifting in and out of her vision, but she didn't have the strength to focus on them.

“Vienna?” Astarions voice sounded like he was underwater. “What's happened?”

Something was mumbled farther away. Sounded vaguely like Shadowheart’s tone and cadence.

“She can’t breathe.” He responded urgently. “Shadowheart, what do I do? Tell me what to do.”

Vienna’s vision shifted in a blur as her head was pointed towards what must've been the ceiling. Her entire body shook, and she gasped and gripped at her collar. Her legs flailing, looking for something to grip onto, to get away from whatever invisible force was tormenting her.

Now looking up, Vienna could see Astarion's blurry face looking down on her. A bloody, bruised, and desperate man. She must be between his knees because her head remained still enough for him to attempt to bring a potion to her lips with shaking hands.

He whispered more to himself than to her, it seemed. “You're okay Vi. My sweet Vi. My Vienna.”

The potion barely slid down her tongue before she breathed in the liquid and began to violently choke.

Shadowheart must've been closer now. “Astarion are you trying to suffocate her?! For once in your fucking life, just think before you-”

“Shut up!”

Her sight was substituted by blindness, and pain was being replaced with tingling numb limbs, and her ears heard a dull ringing. The thought flitted in her mind that Astarion must have bitten her, finally draining her dry. Finally killing her.

………………………..

Vienna woke up confused, her body sat up in alarm. She was sweaty, her heart pounded in her chest, and her fists and teeth clenched with the anticipation of a fight as her eyes darted around her environment.

Her initial panic of not knowing where she quickly subsided. She was in Astarion’s tent, the familiar red fabric surrounded her, and all of their collective blankets and cushions kept her body softly cradled. She sunk back into them with heavy lids, breathing in appreciation.

Astarion’s voice broke her silence from outside. “Vienna died and you're saying she's fine?”

Hearing this Vienna checked herself once over in distress. She quickly made a mental tally and grasped at her body to make sure everything was there and nothing vital was spilling out of her. Her head hurt, but didn't seem to be bleeding. Neck, chest and stomach seemed fine and while her limbs were sore, they were still there and didn’t seem to be broken. Everything seemed fine, and let herself relax as she kept listening.

“I didn't say she was fine Astarion. I said she was stabilized. There's only one of me and it would be best if I focused my efforts elsewhere.”

“She still hasn't woken up…please check on her again.”

“Why do you think her resting is a bad thing? Right now I have to watch Gale to make sure he doesn't die, and then take us all with him…That includes your girlfriend by the way.”

He snapped “I hope you fucking rot!”

Astarion sulked towards his tent and gently lifted the flap open to let himself inside.

He looked tired in the dark. His face and clothing were a mess of dirt and blood. The bruising on his face and chest looked a bit like watercolor, blues mixing with darker blues, purples and reds. She thought it made him look alive, and life looked good on him.

For once, she had no thoughts of death, or blood, or viscera on his cold skin. Her thoughts were entirely her own, and with it came an icy isolation and dread. Her throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and she poorly stuffed down a choking sob.

“Vienna?” His eyes widened briefly and he carefully leaned towards her, like she was an injured bird, that any touch could break her further. “What hurts my dear?” She felt pathetic.

He pushed her hair back off her forehead, where it had stuck with sweat. The coolness of his fingers was a welcome feeling. She breathed, attempting poorly to regulate herself, searching her thoughts. She listened for violent whispers and scanned for dark images. Nothing came on its own, so she made herself stir up an old favorite. Astarion's body, bloody, still and dead eyed. Red guts spilling over the white of his skin and tainting what was once perfect snow. She mulled over the thought with an intense focus, trying to force some kind of reaction. Her once favorite fantasy became a distant morbid curiosity, no longer vivid, and not nearly as irresistible, or interesting. The appeal had been lost for her.

“Love, please tell me. Do you need water?”

“Somethings wrong,” was all she could manage to choke out without breaking down further.

Astarion leaned back with anxiety, searching her body for an injury he had initially overlooked.

“He's gone Astarion, Bhaal’s gone from me. He's abandoned me.” She was actively sobbing now. “He's left me.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she couldn't find the words and so motioned to her head. Flicking her wrist to indicate that what was supposed to be there had been swept away.

“Your compulsions?”

Vienna nodded.

“You had told me you hated them.”

She shot back “I do! I mean I did.”

He paused for a moment, pursing his mouth in contemplation, searching for something to say, but seemingly coming up short. He softly asked “Can I lay down with you?”

She nodded again and he carefully lifted their shared blankets up to allow himself in. Vienna then took it upon herself to gently shift her body against his. A pleasing chill washed over her aches.

She continued, her speech started as a whisper, but she quickly was overcome with emotion again. “He's taken part of me. I've been cast away. I'm not myself anymore Astarion! I-”

He stopped her before she could fall apart again. “Vienna, I realize this could sound…condescending, but that's not what I saw happen. I saw you cast him out. You rejected him. You basically said ‘if I can't be free of your control then I would rather die.’ and you meant it! If it were anyone but you my love, I would have thought they were absolutely insane. To say that against a god? Vi, you were really something to behold.”

“I really did die, didn't I?”

He swallowed thickly “You did.”

“How was I brought back?”

“Withers. He said something about needing you around for the fate of the world. Etcetera, etcetera.” He flipped his wrist dismissively. “Honestly I wasn't paying attention, I was preoccupied with tending to your corpse.” A bit of stuffed down rage trickled out into his tone.

Guilt hit her in the gut. “Astarion, I'm really sorry. That must've been scary.”

“Oh, you should be, and it was. Please, don't ask any more gods to kill you in the future. There can only be one undead member in this party and that spot has already been taken.” He stared off to an unspecified point in front of him, fatigued and dazed.

She lightly patted his chest, “Astarion.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to try something, or test something rather.”

“And what's that?”

She hesitated, a bit embarrassed for her confession. “I mean, for a while now I've been a bit jealous of you. Whenever you've fed on me I would always fantasize about doing the same to you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she hid her face in her hands.

“I wanted to see if I could do it now; if I can handle it without getting carried away.”

“And when you say ‘carried away’ you mean…?”

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth “Tearing you apart from the outside in?” She quickly added “I really think I can manage myself though. I have to know if he's really gone. Please?”

He paused for a bit, thinking of his response “...Vienna, there were many times where I fantasized about draining every last drop of you out of that pretty little neck of yours. More than once I almost did. You've trusted me when you really shouldn't have, and I trust you completely. I need to warn you though, it's not going to be any good. It's really only fair for you to have a turn though isn’t it?”

Viennas breath hitched and cold nervousness seeped in her limbs as he lifted himself up and leaned over her in a similar way to when he would feed on her, but this time with his neck over her mouth, his head above hers. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

He had picked the side opposite of his original puncture scars. A clean canvas with a lavender undertone. This part of him seemed to be made just for her.

Vienna waited to breakout in a cold sweat, to foam at the mouth, for something terrible to take hold of her. Instead there was a mental silence that disturbed her. She let out a shaky breath on Astarions collar, and her heart sent blood rushing past her ears.

He pressed chaste kisses on the side of her head and breathed her in, and she responded by pulling his chest onto hers, arms wrapped around him. He breathed a hiss through his teeth and became rigid as she pressed her teeth in.

Her teeth were sharp, but not at all like his. There was a bit of an awkward grind, not so much a needle point as much as a deep scrape.

As blood rose to the surface, she whined a bit with a mixture of surprise and disgust as she tasted him. Astarions blood was slightly cooler than lukewarm, thick and sticky. If she were to put it into words she might say his blood was stagnant and stale. She pulled off sooner than she thought she would want to. Another one of her fantasies was unapologetically crushed.

There was a pregnant pause as the two locked eyes, waiting for something to happen.

“Well?” He asked, getting his breath back. “How was it then?”

“Disappointing. I should have done this earlier.” She let out a laugh from deep in her gut. “Honestly, you taste terrible.”

He tutted, while nursing his neck. “I told you it wasn't going to be very good. No one can have it all, I'm afraid.” He teased her back. “Also, your form could use some work, you've got my gore all over the both of us.”

He pinched her side playfully and she shrieked with laughter at the ticklish sensation, pushing his hand away.

“My love, you look positively maniacal. Laughing like that, with me on your teeth.” He tutted and shook his head theatrically. “Honestly, you're still just as unhinged as you were on that beach.”

That was exactly what she needed to hear, somehow. She could've cried again but she didn't. Instead she leaned up, cupping his cheek and tenderly kissing him over and over and over again.

[tys-kitty]

I love chatting with you too, it's the highlight of my day!

I'm from the south of the UK (not London, thank stars, you could not pay me enough to live in London). What about you? What's your favourite part about your country? (Please don't feel you have to say if you don't want to!)

I naturally tend to a 4am-12 noon sleep schedule, so working nights is a godsend for me, school was hell.

My favourite scene has to be Luke's betrayal scene! The sheer emotion in all of them had me in tears, the betrayal and sorrow and anger! A special shout-out goes to the scene of young-Percy on the roof when he sees the pegasus, I related to that so hard. When classes used to get too much (a mix of tiredness (see the sleep schedule) and undiagnosed autism) I used to climb out the fire escape window onto the roof. I never saw any pegasi, but I did my fair share of daydreaming up there.

My favourite TSC gang has to be the TID gang. I read TID immediately after finishing TMI and I learned those characters by drawing similarities between them and their decendents (Learning Jem became Brother Zachariah broke me) and I just love them to pieces (it is deeply sad to me that Tessa, Jem and Will did not know about polyamory)

My favourite TSC book? Probably Queen of Air and Darkness. My copy has the official artwork in it and I fell in love with it (I don't know if you've seen it, but Ty and Jules on Livvy's pyre? I had to put the book down for an hour to cry)

I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna infodump about St. Valentines day, because the story behind it is my favourite (even if it is a bit morbid). St Valentine was a priest during the mid 200s, during the reign of Roman emperor Claudius II. Claudius, in true emperor fashion, wanted his armies to be the best. He believed his soldiers would be better if they had no distractions, if they were unmarried. St. Valentine, then still just a priest, used to marry soldiers and their wives in secret, at a time when marrying a soldier (as a priest) was illegal. We celebrate St. Valentines day on the 14th of Febuary because he was executed for his crime on this day in the year 270AD.

Sorry, infodump over.

My turn for a hard question. If you had to give Kit and Ty a theme song each, what would you pick and why?

-☀️

Don‘t tell anyone but it‘s one of my highlights as well 💕

Oh that‘s so cool! Stereotype alert but when I think about the UK I always picture this cute little country side with a cozy cottage. You‘re not a big fan of London, I take it? I was actually in London last Summer and I absolutely adored the city, even though I could never imagine living in a city that big. But I can‘t blame you because I‘m from Austria and I‘m not the biggest fan of Vienna as well. My favourite part about my country would have to be the mountains and lakes!

The Luke betrayal scene was one of my favorites as well! I don‘t know if you‘ve read the books but I loved the fact that Annabeth heard everything! (Also the visuals with the fireworks in the background? Stunning!) Also the hug and the way Percy smiled when Annabeth told him she would go to Disneyland?! (I DIED!) Maybe one day you will see a pegasi (let‘s not give up hope!)

The TMI gang is amazing as well! Tbh I wouldn’t want to choose between the TSC gangs because they are all so different and wholesome in their own way!

SHUT UP! That‘s so amazing! I wish my copy had the original drawings but it seems not everyone can be as cool as you are. My favourite TSC books would have to be Chain of Thorns or Lady Midnight! Queen of Air and Darkness could never be my favourite because that book broke me. I cried so much during the necromancy scene and the aftermath of Livvy‘s death. (And Julian losing his emotions?!?)

WHAT?! WHY DID NOBODY EVER TEACH ME THE HISTORY BEHIND VALENTINE‘S DAY?! I thought it was some cute story with lots of love and flowers. Thank you for ruining my illusion and teaching me something new, I guess😭

THAT‘S SUCH A HARD QUESTION! Like I don‘t really have a particular song for each of them but I have a number of couple songs:

- Say don‘t go (Taylor Swift)

- Into you (Julia Michaels)

- I miss you, I‘m sorry (Gracie Abrams)

- I know it won‘t work (Gracie Abrams)

What about you? (YES YOU ALSO HAVE TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION) And another super hard question for you: Who are your top 3 favourite TSC couples?

(Sorry it took me so long to reply idk why I took me so long to finish this)

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

THE VAMPIRE LOVERS (1970)

This one has a prologue.  A certain Count Hartog lays an ambush for a vampire lady who killed his sister.  He lures the vampire to his trap by taking her scarf, but she almost bites him to death.  However, her bosom presses against his crucifix necklace, and she is repulsed!  He hacks off her head.

We then jump to the 1790s in Styria, which was a part of Austria.  We’re at a party held by a “General” of some sort, and he is played by Peter Cushing!  His daughter is Laura.  A countess drops by, but then an ominous man appears and talks to her.  The countess must leave, but can she leave her daughter, Marcilla, behind?  The general agrees.  Laura befriends Marcilla, but Laura then starts to have nightmares and suffer from anemia, and she dies!  A doctor sees two puncture bites upon her bosom.  Because she was killed by a vampire, and the vampire is Marcilla!

We next jump over to Emma, a friend of the late Laura.  The countess reappears, and she finagles to have Marcilla stay with her, except now her name is Carmilla!  We then have a repeat of what happened at Laura’s house, except we spend more time with Emma.  She has a governess, a Mademoiselle Perrodot, who is trying to teach Emma German, but Emma is stupid.  She spends more and more time with Carmilla, and they have to take off their clothes for various reasons.  Emma’s father heads off to Vienna for business, and Perrodot is left in charge.  Emma begins to fall sick, like Laura, and Carmilla seduces Perrodot, who does nothing to help the poor Emma!  Eventually, the household staff grow concerned, and the lead butler fetches the doctor (the same one who attended to Laura).  They put a crucifix around Emma’s neck and decorate her room with garlic.  Carmilla tries to enter, and she does a funny double take at all the garlic before backing out.

Emma’s father has returned by this point and is waiting for the doctor to come back.  Unfortunately, Carmilla has killed him!  (She’s also killed some local women, as well.)  The father goes to look for the man, but he comes across the general from earlier, who is accompanied by Baron Hartog!  A young man is sent to check in on Emma, and the other men head toward the abandoned Karnstein estate to find the vampire, for reasons.  (Hartog explains that the entire family was vampires, and he spent a night digging them up and driving stakes into their hearts, but there was one he could not find.) 

At the house, Carmilla seduces the butler and gets him to remove all the anti-vampire stuff, and then she kills him.  She’s about to run off with Emma, killing Perrodot along the way, but the young man appears.  She’s going to kil him, but he holds aloft a dagger like a crucifix and drives her off.  She then casts “misty step” and disappears.  At the Karnstein estate, the other men find the tomb for Mircalla Karnstein, but it’s empty.  Inside the house, they see a painting of this Mircalla, and they realize that she is Marcilla and Carmilla!  They find her coffin buried under the floor and take it to the chapel.  They open it.  Mircalla is inside because I guess she materialized there?  Anyway, Peter Cushing drives a stake through her heart and then chops off her head.  The portrait of Mircalla transforms into a fanged skull, much like the painting from “The Picture of Dorian Gray” (1945).  Laura is avenged, Emma is safe, but the main vampire dude remains free to carry out his nefarious plans.

This was…really not good.  There is, naturlich, a strong element of homoeroticism in Mircalla’s interactions with the various women of the cast.  Mircalla tells Emma, “I want you to love me, for all your life,” but Emma is confused.  In any case, it’s impossible to tell if Mircalla is sincere, because she then seduces Perrodot.  So, instead of vampiric lesbianism being a commentary on, well, anything, it’s just there for titillation.  Cinema-wise, there are a few really strong images, such as where the shadow of Mircalla's hand reaches out toward a victim. The shot of Peter Cushing lowering Mircalla's head back into the coffin is actually beautiful, like a painting. The actors do what they can, and they certainly have screen presence, but the script is silly.  There were two sequels to this, but I don’t want to watch them.

[kiiyome-art]

Oh ho ho thank you for noticing! And for commenting, i appreciate your time :)

Anywho, did someone say "elaborate on the angst?" no. But of course i will anyway, dear viewers.

Here's some things the witness has done to torment via that specially have to do with Cayde;

☆ A nightmare of him AND sundance on the moon, that followed her around throughout the entirety of shadowkeep telling her that it was her fault they died. That fall shouldn't have killed her. She should've gotten there sooner. She should've killed the barons when she had the chance, when they were first hunting them down. She should've put a bullet between uldrens eyes back then too.

☆ Given her dreams where the witness posed as Cayde. (like how we saw the witness talking to us AS us at the end of shadowkeep). Promising that it isn't over, saying that there's another way. He can still live, if you really want him to, i can show you. As long as you devot yourself to the final shape, and my cause. It did this pretty much right up until final shape, constantly. And it got to the point where she couldn't even tell if she was having a real dream, or a witness infested one, and only way she does sleep is when literally getting knocked out from exhaustion.

☆ She had to fight fikrul as a nightmare again, which further reminded her of her failure to save him.

☆ Brought her more towards the darkness with stasis, through Eramis whispering more false promises about getting to be with him again to her. She would've fallen for it too because of her damaged mindset, if her fireteam didn't literally knock some sense back into her.

Thats not even mentioning the temptation all this gave her when she found out about the deep stone crypt or the sundial. Or how events on the leviathan affected her.

So... Yeah. Thats why Vienna doesn't even consider this could actually be him, given all the false images and voices of him that she's been put through.

The only reason she doesn't shoot him on sight was the fact that he mentioned crow, didn't immedietely try to gaslight her into believing anything specific, and his very "cayde-like" mannerisms and speech patterns. It all felt more like him, and gave her pause. And the fact that she could never resist shooting someone until she's chewed them out.

// PREV // PT 2 // PT 3 TBD //

Here’s the next part! Thank you for your patience, these take a lot out of my nonexistent energy, and I’m a slow artist to begin with so yea… not a good combo.

Thank you for all the love Pt 1 got, and I can’t wait to keep telling my funny little story :)

See you starside 💫

[the-hidden-pages]

Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT

I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.

Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.

Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!

You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.

He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.

At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.

You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.

A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.

And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.

You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.

While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.

While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.

You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.

Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.

You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.

And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.

You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.

In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.

The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.

While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.

Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.

For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.

Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.

Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.

Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.

One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.

He hugged you so tightly, that for once…

Your inner monologue ceased.

His own, however, raged on.

How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.

Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.

And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.

Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.

When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.

He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.

You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.

You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.

And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.

He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.

He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.

“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.

 Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.

You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”

 “I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.

You had spluttered out a laugh.

 Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”

 “I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”

“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.

He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.

“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”

 Silence falls over the room.

 Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?

 “You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”

“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“

“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”

You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.

  You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”

“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.

“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”

 If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.

“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.

 He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”

You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.

           He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.

           While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend.            And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.

           If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.

           He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…

           In her connection to himself.

           His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –

           You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.

           The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

           “I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”

           “I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.

           You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.

           “You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”

           You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?

           “Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”

           You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?

           Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.

           “I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”

           You freeze. “Doctor-“

           “Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”

           “Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“

           “You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”

           Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”

           He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”

           Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.

           “I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”

           Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”

           “Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.

           It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.

           You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.

           But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.

           You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.

           A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.

           “How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”

           He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“

           “Would you like to know what else was in there?”

           Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.

           “My dear, I don’t –“

           “I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”

           You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.

           Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.

           “I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”

           You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.

           Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.

           Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.

           And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.

           Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.

           But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.

           You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.

           When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.

           Fascinating indeed.

           He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.

           “Wait, my dear, I-“

           “Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”

           He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”

           You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”

           His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.

           “Don’t you dare.”

           You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.

           “Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”

           “I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.

           “Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”

           Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”

           He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.

           The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.

           “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”

           You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.

           “You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”

           For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.

           With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.

           He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.

           “Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.

           “Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.

           His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.

           “My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.

           “Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.

           He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.

           “Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.

           It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

           A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.

           “Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.

           “You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…

“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.

It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.

“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.

The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”

“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”

The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.

He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.

“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.

A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.

As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.

You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.

“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.

Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.

You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.

           “Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.

           You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.

           “Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”

           He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”

[chloelucia13]

Made of Ashes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Prompt: Faking your death wasn’t an easy thing to do, but SHIELD said that it had to be done. But you couldn’t stay out of the life you were born to have, even if it was risky. Even if it brought you face to face with the people who still believed that you were dead. Based off of “My Tears Ricochet” by Taylor Swift

Warnings: ANGST, a teensy bit of fluff, language, violence, gore, discussions of death (obviously)

Word Count: 5.1k 

A/N: We did it, boys, we’ve found another hyperfixation. Let’s see how long this lasts. Anyway, my tag lists and requests and DMs are always open! Hope you enjoy!

Death was never a foreign thing to you. It seemed to linger, its presence permeating every interaction and movement as if to remind you that you never know what could happen. 

Just because it wasn’t unfamiliar didn't mean that it wasn’t miserable, though. You’ve lost so many friends, family, and everything in-between and it never seemed to get any better.

You knew how painful it was, but you could never imagine the pain that you felt when you witnessed your own funeral. When you watched the people you love grieve over you while you were only feet from them but couldn’t comfort them.

You had watched their tears streak down their faces as they stared ahead at the closed casket, their cheeks glistening under the rays of sun that shone down on them. You watched their hands tremble as they showered individual roses onto the gleaming mahogany lid before returning to their seats with their heads bowed low. You watched the light sheen of sweat build on their skin that made them wonder if this heat was comparable to what you had felt.

They were told that you were caught in a building that Hydra had bombed, pinned underneath the falling debris as the flames rose as engulfed you. They were told that your body couldn’t be found, that it was most likely hidden under all of the rubble or turned to ash. They had to bury an empty casket.

The word had spread fast, and the wake that they’d planned on being a small gathering became flooded with familiar faces from around the galaxy. Basically everyone was there, eyes damp and hearts heavy.

In a car tucked away from the wake but still in view of it, you and Maria Hill watched their grieving in silence. “This is all for your safety,” she had explained to you, but the guilt of what she had to do was still lingering. You had nodded along to her word, but your mind was in another place. 

It was stuck in a whirlwind of panic, hurt, and confusion as you stared at the man who kept his distance from the crowd of Avengers, but his shoulders still shook with sobs as your casket was lowered into the ground. The man who gave you heaven and gave you hell. The man you swore you’d love until you died, even if you were already dead to him in his mind.

And to him, it was true.

You and Bucky had met when he was still the Winter Soldier, when he had dragged Steve from the water and dropped his limp body directly at your feet. You remember staring at him in a panic, unknowing of what he would do to you. He had stared you directly in the eye and gave you a nod before walking past you, leaving you with a seemingly-lifeless Steve.

That small, but meaningful, interaction had led you on a manhunt of sorts, devoting your free time to finding this “Bucky” that Steve spoke so fondly of.

After a couple of months, you came across a reported sighting of the Winter Soldier in Bucharest, though the man was not hostile. Immediately, you booked a flight there and, without telling another person, snuck off to find this supposed Winter Soldier.

You found him at a small market in the middle of town, your eyes locking with his as he lifted his gaze. The panic he felt from being seen was evident, but that panic seemed to melt away as a smile grew on your lips. He was still on alert, though, as you crossed the street and walked over to him. It was clear that he recognized you, but your gentle demeanor gave him a strange sense of comfort.

That first meeting had slowly built up to monthly visits that lasted for days at a time, the two of you nurturing a relationship that was kept hidden from the word, especially the Avengers.

The day that Bucky’s past life came rushing back, the two of you were on one of your monthly “dates,” as you’d jokingly called it.

The blue of his eyes had drawn you in for a moment too long, prompting a chuckle from him. You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, turning your face from his so he couldn’t detect the blush blooming on your cheeks. “What, I can’t admire the beautiful sight before me?” you defensively hummed in Romanian, crossing your arms over your chest as your examined the baskets of fruit in front of you.

“I never said that,” he teased, playfully bumping your shoulder with his before turning to the woman running the fruit stand and asking her a few questions.

The woman handed Bucky a bag of plums and you both thanked her before walking down the street. “Plums?”

He nodded, shrugging slightly. “I figured we could make something with them.”

“I think there’s still some phyllo dough in the fridge.” He nodded, but his attention was clearly elsewhere. You followed his line of sight and saw a man sitting in a newspaper hut staring worriedly at Bucky. You touched his right arm and the two of you exchanged a glance before making your way over to the man. The moment he noticed the two of you stepping towards him, he retreated back before running out of his hut.

Bucky pulled the newspaper the man was reading off of the surface it rested on and held it out in front of him.

“Winter Soldier Cautat Pentru Bombardmentul Din Vienna”

“Bucky,” you spoke slowly, forcing yourself to tear your eyes from the paper so you could look up at his visibly shaken face.

“We need to go,” he grumbled, placing the paper face down and gripping onto your forearm.

The two of you walked at a hurried pace down the street that led up to his apartment, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible despite the fact that you both were shivering with fear.

After climbing the multiple flights of stairs with no one in sight, the tension slowly began to dissolve from the naive belief that they may not have tracked him down yet. His grip had loosened on your arm, as well, signifying that the fear had began to die down in his mind as well. The two of you silently slipped inside and closed the door behind you, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you could see that the apartment was empty. That breath hitched in your throat, though, when a pair of heavy footsteps echoed through the stairwell just outside the door. 

You nodded towards the bathroom door and he quickly pulled you into the small room, closing the door and tucking your form behind him. The creaking front door swung open and shut, and a shadow passed across the crack of the bathroom door. You gripped tightly onto the arm of Bucky’s canvas jacket and he placed his hand over yours, giving you a gentle nod. He led the two of you out of the bathroom and into the open space of the studio apartment, keeping your eyes trained on the familiar figure standing at the fridge that made your stomach turn.

After speaking out to what was most likely a voice in his ear, he turned on his heel to face you two.

You could tell from the look of pure bewilderment on his face that he absolutely was not expecting you to be there. “Y/N?” Steve questioned.

You gave him an awkward smile and a wave. “Hi,” you hummed with a simple nod.

A wave of emotions crossed over his face and he let out a sigh. “We don’t have time to talk about this right now.”

After the chase that led you, Bucky, Steve, and King T’Challa in prison, and the prison break that took place afterward, Bucky had kept his distance from you. He became cold, calloused to you. You figured that it was due to the stress of being framed for a crime he didn’t commit and the man who did commit it trying to tap into the Winter Soldier, but that didn't mean that it didn’t hurt. You’d spent months working on a relationship with this man who you loved more than you’d care to admit, all for it to be gone within moments.

But it didn’t go away, even after everything was taken care of and Bucky had came back to you.

The bright smile on your face couldn’t be suppressed when Steve and Bucky had came into view, both of them clearly exhausted from everything that had occurred. That exhaustion was tucked away, though, when Steve saw you standing there, and he quickly headed over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. You took his affection gratefully, the two of you chatting with equally wide smiles.

After about a minute or two, Steve told you that he had something to do before quickly slipping out of the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. Bucky stood a good distance from you, avoiding your gaze and keeping his stance rigid. It was obvious that he was still hurting, but you figured that your presence could cheer him up.

“Bucky,” you sighed, hurrying over to him and reaching out for a hug.

He turned away from your embrace, keeping his eyes on the ground and his face emotionless. 

“Buck?” You dropped your arms to your sides, brows furrowing in confusion as you attempted to search his face. He gave no expression, and you gave up on his face, instead glancing at his robotic arm that was no longer there. “Oh my god, your arm.”

“It’s fine,” he huffed, stepping away to stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the landscape of Wakanda.

He was shutting you out, acting more rigid than he did when you two first met. Your lips pressed together as you walked over to the windows, keeping a few feet of distance between you two. “It’s beautiful here-”

“God, do you ever take a fucking hint?” 

You jumped from the tone of his voice, giving him a look of shock while his face, still, stayed flat. “What?”

“I don’t want you here. I want you to leave me alone.”

His words made your heart sink to your shoes, but there was a pestering itch in the back of your mind that made you push him further. “You don’t mean that.”

He stepped forward until you were backed up against the glass, placing an arm on each side of your body and caging you in. “Don’t I?” He let out a huff, eyes trained on yours which were brimming with tears. “You’ve ruined whatever chance I had at being normal. You found me, you led everyone to me, and you got me sucked back into all of this bullshit.”

You shook your head. “I just wanted to help.”

He scoffed. “You sure helped a lot.”

You blinked back the tears and clenched your jaw, giving him a look of spite. You averted your gaze for a moment, eyes catching on the small black cord that peeked out from his shirt. The cord that was so familiar because it was a necklace you’d gifted him. You let out a huff before shoving his arm out of your way and stomping away down the expansive hall.

On your way to your room that T’Challa had given you the key to earlier, you ran into Sam, who immediately noticed the anger and pain radiating off of you. “Whoa, whoa, cool it on the stomping there. You might just smash through the floor,” he teased and gripped your arm with a smile, but it fell when his eyes searched yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Go ask Bucky, because I sure as shit have no clue.”

Months after you’d left Bucky in Wakanda, your “funeral” had taken place, and it pained you that you were never able to resolve the issues that had divided you two. 

You tried your hardest to live your life as normal (well, as normally as you could while staying as underground as possible and basically living a completely different life than the one you previously had), but that plan had crumbled and turned to dust like half of the planet. You’d lost Hill and Fury, the  only people who knew that you were still alive and were actively working to keep you safe. At first, it was horrifying to know that no one would be watching your every move as you’d grown so used to it. But as time went on and you realized that you had to be somewhat present in society, you had finally felt the freedom that you’ve been held from for years.

You lived life under the new identity that Hill and Fury had previously given you (Sandra McMahan, 27, unemployed, living in Boston, Massachusetts), but you couldn’t give in to the normal life that was at your fingertips, so close yet so far away. Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into researching all of the people who turned to dust. It was clear that it was a result from something that the Avengers fought due to the multiple sightings of spacecrafts that were documented on Stark’s databases, but it proved to be much more devastating than you could’ve guessed.

All of your friends were either dead or missing, and you couldn’t help but feel the immense guilt from the thought that you could’ve saved them.

Five years had come and gone in a haze of misery and loneliness, each day blurring into the previous day and the next day. You tried your hardest to participate in a society that was struggling to cope with the devastating loss that had occurred, but most days you had failed to get out of bed.

You still vividly remember the day of the blip, when the billions of people who’d vanished into thin air had reappeared just as quickly and in the same exact state. You remember the amalgamation of cheers and cries as people were reunited with their loved ones, all while you watched them from your 10th floor window in your dingy little apartment.

All alone.

The databases were updated at that point, displaying who had come back. Of course, there were still a few people whose status never changed, and no matter how long you refreshed the page in hopes that it would switch from “missing” to a blank spot where that word once sat, it didn’t. Instead, it changed from “missing” to “deceased.”

Hill and Fury had tried to get back in contact with you, but you ignored their messages, instead choosing to look deeper into the reappearance of one man.

You’d watched Bucky from a distance, lingering in the shadows as you went along with all of daily activities. Going to the grocery stores, spending Wednesdays at an asian restaurant with a man you didn’t recognize, and attending this weekly therapy appointments. His routines were, well, routine, until the day that he and Sam traveled to the Raft to break out the man who nearly landed Bucky in that same prison. They’d escaped successfully, and their movements brought you to Madripoor, a place that instantly settled a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. 

The dress you wore in that dark and musty bar was itchy and the stares you earned from it made your skin crawl, but you bit your tongue and kept a straight face as you tucked yourself away into a dark corner. The doubt that itched in the back of your mind of how the three men would show kept growing stronger and stronger, only for it to shift into pure terror as Bucky and Sam walked in with that bastard. 

Bucky’s face was as still and hollow as it was the first day you met him, that hauntingly empty look that made your insides churn. But that churning was incomparable to the bile that bubbled in your chest as he attacked men at Zemo’s word, his actions harsh and merciless.

Silently, the three men were led into a back room by an armed man, and once the trio disappeared into the room, you overtook the man and disarmed him. You gripped the gun in your hands and stood just outside of the room, still lingering within earshot.

Zemo and who you assumed to be Selby discussed some sort of contract that had to do with the super soldier serum, of which he offered Bucky as payment for information on where to get the serum. The discussion was cut short by Sam’s phone ringing, which snowballed into a situation much bigger than they were expecting.

As Selby ordered for them to be killed, a gunshot rang through the air and Selby’s words were cut short. After attacking the guards that surrounded the room, the three men escaped out the back door, and you followed them. The road leading out from the bar proved just as treacherous as another spray of gunfire sounded from all around, and you all sprinted down the narrow street and into an attached back alley.

You shot down the two motorcyclists that had followed them in and stepped out of the shadows, gun trained on Zemo as your hands shook with fury. “Disarm him,” you spat, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Y/N?” Sam spoke, voice laced with shock.

“Power him down, Zemo,” you continued, ignoring the shocked looks from Sam and Bucky. “I will not hesitate to blow your fucking brains out!”

“Drop the gun” Bucky roared, making you jump. 

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice echoed, standing in the space next to you and aiming her gun at Zemo. “Drop it, Zemo.”

Zemo slowly lowered his gun to the ground and held his hands in the air, retreating back as the other two men walked forward. “Sharon?” Bucky spoke.

“You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait-” Sam pleaded.

The four of them bickered while you stepped back and lowered your gun to your side, trying to catch up with everything that was going on while also trying to comprehend why Bucky was with Zemo, why he acted like he was the Winter Soldier.

Sharon’s offer of refuge seemed to draw everyone in, but as they all began to walk, Bucky turned to you and gripped both of your biceps in his hands, forcing you to drop your weapon. He backed you up into the brick wall and tightened his jaw, the rough material scraping against your exposed back. “Bucky,” you cried out.

“Who are you?” he hissed, pulling you close to him before swiftly slamming you back against the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Y/N. Please.”

“Y/N is dead.” Sam appeared behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Who. The fuck. Are you.”

“Bucky, we don’t have time for this!” Sam snapped. “She’s coming with us, let’s go.”

You silently pleaded with Sam but he walked away, allowing Bucky to wrestle both of your arms behind your back and walk you to the car.

*** As Sharon and Sam and Zemo conversed, Bucky dragged you into the first room he saw and threw you inside, locking the door behind him.

You let out a hiss of pain as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, glancing dow nat the rug burn on your palms before looking up at Bucky. “Buck, come on, it’s me,” you begged, watched as he leaned against the wall that faced you.

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed, lips pursed tightly. “Who are you and why are you here? How did you find me?”

You spoke slowly, “Bucky, it’s Y/N Y/L/N. We met in Bucharest, we were... We were best friends, until...”

“What, until I went to Wakanda or until you died?”

“They made me fake my death, Buck, it wasn’t my choice. They made me hide away from everybody for what they said was my own safety. They said that I could be used by Hydra to get secrets about everyone, about you.” You let out a trembling sigh. “I’ve been hiding for seven fucking years. I’ve been alone for seven years.”

He looked away from you, gliding his tongue over his bottom row of teeth before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You cut your hair,” you spoke after a moment’s silence.

“You came back from the dead.”

“So did you.”

He shot a glare at you, standing up straight and walking over to sit in a chair on the other side of the room. Hesitantly, you rose to your feet and walked over to him, leaving about 10 feet of distance between you two. “How did you find me?”

“Stark’s databases. They said that you were getting court-mandated therapy in New York City, so I went there, and I guess I just followed you from there.”

“Why...” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Well, first of all, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because of my selfishness.” You sat in the chair adjacent to his. “And I figured that it would be best that I stayed away from you since you despised me.” 

He let out a sigh, mouth opening to defend himself. 

You shook your head. “Do you know how much that hurt me?” you cried out, lower lip quivering. “I-I thought that you cared about me, but you didn’t, did you?”

“I can say the same fucking thing about you!” he snapped. “When I came back from the blip, I saw you everywhere! I thought that you were haunting me, that my guilt was just making you appear, but it was actually you!”

“I didn’t want to do that, okay.” “What, you didn’t want to haunt me? You made me miserable!”

“That’s just what you said the last time I saw you.” You pushed yourself out of the chair and faced away from him, not wanting him to see you cry. “You were one of the only people I had. After you left, I wanted so badly to go see you. I could’ve gone anywhere, but the one place I wanted to be was with you. And then I had to hide away from the world, and I had no one. And I had to live with the fact that I would never be able to fix things between us.”

“You’ve really got some balls to say that shit.” He gripped your arm and spun you around to face him. “Fuck you, Y/N. Fuck you and everything you did.”

You yanked your arm from his grasp and stormed away. “I don’t think I’m the one to blame here, Bucky.”

You slammed the door shut behind you and walked past the room where the other three were gathered. “Hey, where are you going?” Sharon shouted.

“Outside,” you grumbled, walking out into the open courtyard in front of the house. 

Sobs bubbled in your chest and past your lips, collapsing onto the front steps with your head held in your hands. Your shoulders shook and though you tried to keep the noise to a minimum, you couldn’t hold back the hiccups of air that you tried to breathe in.

Heavy footsteps clicked on the pavement behind you a few minutes later, and you hastily swiped away the tear tracks that soaked your cheeks. “Sam, I’m fine. I’ll be in in a minute and you can interrogate me all you want,” you choked out, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Not Sam,” Bucky’s gruff voice rumbled behind you, his form settling beside you on the steps.

You pursed your lips, eyes trained on the concrete path ahead of you. “Why did you go to the wake?” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them.

“What?”

“I... I saw you at my wake. Why were you there? I thought I was dead to you.”

He shook his head. “You were never dead to me. You... God, you were the only thing keeping me going. You were all I had.”

You finally lifted your gaze to his face, locking eyes with him. “Then why’d you hurt me?”

A sigh left his lips. “After that chase in Bucharest, I... I guess I realized that you being with me wasn’t safe. And then when Zemo was able to get the Winter Soldier to come out...”

“So you hurt me to keep me from getting hurt.”

“Y/N-���

“What, am I wrong? God, when you push people away you really go for the heart.”

“It’s not like it was easy for me! When I saw how badly I hurt you, it felt like a part of me died inside.”

“But you still had every goddamn piece of me in your hands. Was that not enough for you?”

He stayed silent, searching your eyes for a moment before directing his gaze to his shoes. You scoffed and pushed yourself to your feet, turning on your heel to leave.

Bucky reached his left arm up, the cool metal curling gently around your wrist as he also stood up. In one fluid motion, he spun you around to face him and pressed his lips into yours. You froze in shock, but before you could even decide how to feel about his bold actions, he pulled away and searched your eyes. 

You let out a shuddering sigh, trying to gather your composure as quickly as possible. “Bucky, I would’ve died for you.”

“That was the last thing I wanted. It still is.” His cool fingers loosened their grip, delicately gliding along the back of your hand. “And when I found out that you died, I blamed myself. I told myself that if I hadn't hurt you, if I was with you, then you would’ve lived.”

“Bucky-”

“My therapist, she made me create a list of people that I need to make amends with. I-I’ve gotten through most of it, but there’s a few names that I still need to get through.” He dug in his back pocket, fishing out the small pocketbook and turning to the last page. “I wrote your name down. I-I knew that there was no way I could ever make amends with you, but I felt like I had an obligation to.”

You stared at your name scrawled out on the page in his messy handwriting. It was the only name on the page, placed right in the center. Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a shaky breath, unable to find the words to say.

“You don’t have to forgive me, and honestly I don’t expect you to, but I just needed-”

“Bucky.”

He closed his mouth, his sweet blue eyes following your movements as you closed the book in his hands and settled both of your hands on his cheeks. You could see the stress melting off of him as soon as he felt the warmth of your touch, his shoulders dropping slightly and a hint of a smile threatening to crack on his lips.

“Bucky Barnes, you are the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” you sighed, giving him a small smile. “And I know it’s because you’ve been hurt more times than you can count, but if I can take away some of that hurt, I’d do it a million times over and never regret it.” The tip of your nose brushed against his, and you heard his breath hitch in his throat. “I forgive you.”

With a gentle tilt of his head, his lips bumped against yours before quickly locking together. Your fingers drifted down his cheeks and his throat before clasping together behind his neck.

He stole a few more quick kisses before pulling away completely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before permitting a smile to rest on his face. You mirrored his smile and carded a hand through his hair. “Y’know,” you breathed, “I really dig this haircut.”

He arched a brow. “Really, I thought you liked the long hair.”

“I did like the long hair! It just... This is more you. Not the Winter Soldier, not HYDRA. You.”

You felt his arm pressed against your body as he tucked his book into his jacket pocket before both arms tenderly snaked around your waist and pulled you close to him. He pressed a chaste kiss, then two, then three onto your lips before letting out a small sigh.

“I’ve got clients coming in half an hour and I’d prefer not having people with targets on their heads making out on my front step,” Sharon shouted from the front door, giving both of you a pointed look before stepping back inside.

“I should leave,” you hummed, dropping your hands to your sides and beginning to wiggle yourself free of his grip.

“Y/N,” he breathed, fingers catching onto yours and weaving together. “Stay. Please. I... I just got you back, I don't want to lose you again.” Your eyes locked with his and he held the stare for a few moments before clearing his throat and shifting his gaze to the ground between you two. “Besides, I think Sam and Zemo might kill me if I don’t go back in there without you.”

You giggled. “Oh, that’s the reason you want me to go in there with you?”

“Yeah!” His voice was nearly drowned out by your laughs, but he persisted. “I swear to god, if looks could kill, I would’ve died before I could’ve even gotten out here to talk to you. Fucking Zemo even said something about ‘when you’ve got a woman like that, you should never take hurt them.’”

You grinned. “You think he’s wrong about that?”

He shook his head fervently. “No, no, not at all! I just... I guess I’m out of practice with this whole... talking thing.” He let out a breath and squeezed your hands. “I need to catch up on the seven years that I’ve spent without you, and there’s no better time to start than now.”

You bit down on your lower lip to suppress the smile that was close to splitting your face in two. “I don't know, Bucky, but that sure sounds like some good talking to me.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile finally began to settle on his lips. “Shut up.”

You pressed a final, sweet kiss to his lips before slipping from his grasp, giving yourself a moment to admire the purple light that caressed his skin. “Come on, let’s head inside before Sharon loses her shit.”

[cazzyf1]

Tribute to Niki Lauda: My favourite quotes/quotes I find interesting from interviews and articles about Niki Lauda 1/?

In honour of the third year without Niki, I've compiled this post full of my favourite quotes that I have found over the last couple of months. I, as like many others, miss Niki a lot, but I hope these amusing and interesting quotes from Niki offer some happiness in celebrating the amazing life Niki had and all the joy he gave to everyone around him.

I don't have the links on hand to the sites I found them on, but if you wanted a particular one I am sure I can track it down, please feel free to share any quotes or articles you have as I love reading new information about him. I would also love to hear your favourite quotes from this section as well! Reblog or comment some of them! 🥰

"Already I've been informed that Niki played up previous evening. Anges warns me 'Niki has a headache this morning, but it doesn't matter.' One of the team tells me in a less guarded tone that Niki drunk too much red wine last night at the $150-a-ticket ball (black-tie affair or not, Lauda none the less appeared wearing that Parmalat cap) then went on to disco. "We had to drag him back to his room at almost two this morning. It's most unlike him, he's normally in bed at nine.'... At 11:00am the little man arrives alone. Carrying a sports bag and wearing a sheepish grin that exposes those slightly buck teeth. "Morning," he says to everybody in general. One of the team saunters over, lifts Lauda's dark glasses and peers into those normally steely blue eyes. 'Not bad' he says, 'Not bad', and everybody laughs."

-

"Lauda is a very lonely man and not very happy, even though he appears to have all he wants. He does not appear to enjoy life."

-

"In addition to Lukas and Mathias, Lauda also fathered an illegitimate son. He was born in the same year as Mathias. In his book, "Let's talk about money" which was published in 2015 he wrote: 'He was born in 1981. I regret that I couldn't be a full father to him."

-

"Are you currently single or is there a new love?

Marlene is unbeatable as a type, nothing has changed in our relationship. We made up our own rules. Our divorce was hyped by the media five years late. Then a wave came up. She is the one who walks with me today. I got them after three months in Wr. Neustadt because I wanted to know what it was like to be married. And one day we said, now let's just get divorced. I know that nobody will probably understand that, but nothing has changed."

-

"Proflie: Does this closeness to death also affect sexual behaviour?

Lauda: Of course. If you have the feeling it could be over tomorrow, you deal with it differently. And the women in the Formula 1 circus were relatively flexible."

-

"Focus: Your children Lukas, 17, and Mathias, 15, live in Barcelona. Do you have a say in education?

Lauda: Raising children is just one of Marlene's numerous strengths. Recently I wanted to explain to my boys that a condom if and how it works. Then they both pulled a rubber band out of their pockets and said, "Here, dad." I was surprised at how well organised they are.

Focus: You may have heard that from Lauda Air, condoms are distributed on flights to Bangkok

Lauda: That can be. My older son Lukas joked that he wanted to experience something "dirty". Since I'm with him in a striptease bar in Vienna. When they found out that Lauda's son was there, the table was already removed and a girl began to dance and undress in front of him. I felt a little funny because I thought, poor Bua, what he has to put up with. But he did it perfectly. When the girl stood stark naked in front of him, he took off his shirt and put it on her. This has definitely not happened before.

Focus: You look at life with an analytical dryness. Are you a man without tears?

Lauda: I cry a lot, most recently with the movie "Phenomenon". The scene where John Travola, poor bastard, was laying in bed saying "Goodbye, honey" to her and then he died.

Focus: Your marrige to Marlene was divorced in 1991. Now we could read everywhere that you had returned to her...

Lauda: I neither turned away from her nor towards her. Our basis has always been right, they understand me and I understand them. Point. We don't have any friction because we don't keep telling ourselves you have to be different because that's how I want it.

Focus: You are often seen alongside beautiful women. Don't you have break on women?

Lauda: Well, a relationship with a woman isn't bad, it's more pleasant, very good, very important. I'd rather be with someone than alone. That's why I dont' have a bad relationship with Marlene. What most people don't understand is that it's that simple. They always just think, something can't be right, it can't be, because they're interpreting their own problems into other life.

Focus: What makes you so attractive to women?

Lauda: I can't judge that. I think my strength is that I don't hang around for long and I don't play shows or drama for women. Why should I change when I meet a woman? Because she would say I should take off my kappl and then I sit in front of her without a kappl. After three years she would think, please, what kind of dog did I raise: it sits 'down' cap on, cap off. Even today, years later, ex-partners still tell me "It was great with you." I'll tell you why, because the next one s such a jerk who gets on her nerves from morning to night because he tells her what they do and how she should be."

-

"But Lauda wasn't just about the money. During the civil war in Rwanda, he personally piloted two aid fights to the crisis area in 1994 and 1996. Undaunted and at his own expense, he piloted a Lauda air machine packed with relief supplies such as medicine and food for the refugees cared for by Caritas. In 1994, Lauda then flew directly to Kigali, the capital of Rwanda. As an entrepreneur, Lauda, who was more concerned with his own advantage, justified his aid campaign with the words: "When you see these pictures, you know that it's about the poorest in the world. You have almost no chance of surviving yourself, you have to help them.

Many years later he admitted that his second wife Birgit Wetzinger, whom Layda met in 2004 when she worked as a flight attendant at his airline Niki, had further developed his social conscience: 'As far as social commitment is concerned, Brigit really opened my eyes. You could say she managed to awaked my social conscience.'

-

"He has not only learned to let his soul dangle, but also 'that it's not so bad if iI'm thrown off my path every now and then, which I've followed with great stubbornness and egocentricity."

-

"Is it true that some drivers used to be really wild dogs, as they say?

Lauda's answer: I could tell you the truth because it had already been said before. Of course, due to the willingness to take risks, to which we have fundamentally adjusted, we lived our lives, in which we did not always take everything so precisely, and one did not necessarily want to involve the fixed partners.

-

"F1 legend Niki Lauda even urged the Dutchamn to go to a 'psychatrist' to temper his aggression.

"If I go, then we might as well go together" Verstappen said."

-

"In an interview with 'side view' Brigit Lauda revealed how happy she is with her husband. The former racing driver gave her a very special present for her first wedding anniversary on August 25th. "He gave me a ring in the shape of a 'infinity' sign" revealed the former stewardess "as a sign of the infinity of our love". The couple met at work: Brigit was the flight attendant at Lauda's airline. Niki Lauda was already sure after two years. "She is the woman of my life" he proudly told the same magazine at the time."

-

"With twins you are constantly chasing after two who are running in opposite directions" he bravely completes his childcare service. "We play on the iPad, watch the children's favourite DVD, 'Baby Einstein' and sometimes we go to feed the ducks in the Potzleindofer Schlosspark."

-

"Instead of organ music, Niki Lauda;s favouire music was played, including Tougher than the rest by Bruce Springsteen."

Austria: Were there a few tears?

Lauda: No, but it was a very emotional moment. Above all, it was important that my second eldest son, Matthias was Mia's godfather and that he also wanted that. And that's exactly how it was with my Lukas, who was Max's godfather. That was a reunion for me and they both wanted it that way. "

-

"The marriage anniversary was celebrated in Lauda's regular restaurant, the Viennese Do&co on Stephansplaz. "It was so romantic!" enthuses the Formula 1 legend with unusual emotion. At the sight of the sunset, "emotions really went through." He thanked his Brigit for the now eight year love and loyalty and above all for "the greatest gift of all." his two twins Max and Mia. "The children are really my everything. There really isn't anything bigger or more beautiful."

-

"We recommend getting married" the tough airliner enthuses surprisingly sweetly about his marriage to Birgit a year and a half ago. No wonder, since the former fly Niki stewardess entered his life, he hasn't stopped smiling. "It's very good for him, through her, he became more human, less egotistical and learned to enjoy life." Lukas has long since taken to his young stepmother's heart."

-

Austria: What attracts you to jet into space?

Lauda: I always wanted to fly into space. It's a dream of mine to see the world from up there. But I want to do it as a pilot; if so, then I would like to be in control myself. The additional appeal of the thing is to fly such a space shuttle. If the story comes about, it will be a huge rush.

-

Where your parents religious?

"Catholic."

When did you stop beliveing?

"Never!"

Do you still believe?

"Sure. I think there's something up there, but I don't think I have to go to Church every Sunday."

Do you believe in Jesus?

" I think 99 percent of what you do with your life is up to you. You can achieve anything, but wether it actually works or not depends on something we can't explain."

And then Niki begins a monologue:

"There is someone watching over me, doing something for me, and I have to accept that."

Years ago, Niki tells me, he left the church to save on church taxes. But recently he rejoined as a father of two children and even had his children baptized. And yes, of course: today he pays church taxes again. Today, he proudly explains to me, "I'm a Roman Catholic!"

As everyone knows, Catholics believe in heven and hell. So I ask him: is there car racing in heaven?

"No, unfortunately not."

Why not?

"I don't think racing drivers go to heaven, they behave too badly for that. They go to hell. There are a lot of car races there."

Why shouldn't racers go to heaven?

"You are inherently self-centered."

Are you egocentric?

"Yes! Yes! If you drive at the limit and want to win, you have to be self-centered. Otherwise you'll never make it."

So no racers in heaven?

Almost. With one exception: Senna (Ayrton Senna, anotber three-time Formula One Champion who died at the 1994 San Marion Grand Prix) who, "read the Bible" before racers, is now in heaven.

Does he race cars up in the sky?

"Maybe. But if he does, then he drives all alone..."

Maybe against the angels?

"Right! Could be."

And all other drivers end up in hell. Do you race there?

"Always!"

Against who?

"Against each other. They really have fun in hell."

Will you become world champion in hell?

"I hope. I'll fight the devil too!"

Do you think you can win there?

"I hope. I won earlier, why not in hell. Maybe I have to try harder and go even faster."

-

EJ: You just mentioned James and some of his activities outside the cockpit. He was a womaniser, but you weren't a bum yourself either. It was common knowledge that after marriage, you had more than enough wives.

NL: My marriage was never over. Are you crazy? In the beginning it was my wife. She was always there and supported me through think and thin. Sometimes I have no idea what I was doing without her.

EJ: Your son never became a world champion.

NL: INdeed, there are no guarantees. My son Mathias never really wanted to race when he was eighteen. Why? Because he grew up with Marlene. Marlene is the opposite of any logical, normal racing mum. She had a huge heart. She is afraid of pretty much everything in the world and she has given my children a good heart but no logic.

-

He often vomited before the races. All the tension hit him in the stomach. I used to watch him and when he went back to the bathroom I would follow him and pee next to him and ask, "How are you today James?"

-

Lauda's appearance in the prince's box in 1975 is legendary. The racing driver, who was still rather shy at the time, took the hand of Princess Grace Kelly when the trophy was handed over - and kissed her against all court rules!

Niki: The whirlwind that followed was unbelievable, but the princess just smiled. I only touched the back of her hand lightly!

-

It's a catchy tune that's hard to get rid of: The Ballermann hit 'Mama Laudaaaa' creates a good atmosphere not only in Mallorca, but also at various tent festivals and other celebrations.

The German newspaper BILD asked Formula 1 legend Niki Lauda what he thought of the song,

"Yes, I've heard that, I was very surprised, but I find it funny. I've often been asked about it, you can smile about it."

Lauda also has a message for the musician duo behind the hit: "Keep singing with Mama Lauda!"

-

LL: James Hunt is portrayed in the film as a womanizer, you more as a focused analyst. What role do women play in Formula 1?

NL: unfortunately none today! In principle, the drivers are all married and come to the races with children and dogs because the danger is no longer there. Marlene went to two races with me, then I had an accident and she never wanted to come with me again. So we drivers were left alone in the races - thank God, because that took away the stress of whether I should accelerate or not. Of course, all the other women who wanted to catch one of us lunatics were there. To be honest, I wouldn't want to miss the time of Woodstock and the 1970s in Formula 1!

LL: From the wives to the kids: How are you with the twins Mia and Max?

NL: Pure madness! At first there were discussions about changing diapers and I said I don't do that. And I actually never had to do it, the need was never there. But I always comforted Birgit: "Wait, my time is coming!" Now they are four years old and my time has come. Around 6 or 7:30 in the morning, the two of them come marching up and "bang!" They're in bed with me. A big rush! What they performing. And these fun discussions!

-

"Brigit is my heroine. That this woman came and donated a kidney to me is unique." A statement of love from Niki Lauda, who died exactly one year ago. Since then, hardly anything has been heard from the 41-year-old widow who continues to live in Vienna with the twins, Mia and Max, 10.

"It was love at first sight," said Niki at the time about getting to know the two. She was "unnerved at the moment because he was staring at me like that and staring at my cowboy boots the whole time." But she soon raved about his demure humor and his extraordinary personality "with rough edges."

If you had asked Niki Lauda in front of Brigit if he could imagine marrying again, and becoming a father again, he would definitely have said no. He was considered rather as someone who quickly succumbed to female charm. "Since he was with her, his priorities have changed," says business friend Hannes Jagerhofer. Since he was in a relationship with the ex-stewardess- whom he met on a flight from Vienna to Ibiza in 2004 - he has learned to enjoy life more.

"When I met Niki," Jagerhofer said an interview with WOMAN in 2024, "he walked non-stop about the children. After a certain time he was always in a hurry to get home to put them to bed."

-

It was logical that at some point he had to feel invincible. A few years ago, he demanded a little more respect from my fellow reporter. The justification was typical Lauda:

"After all, I'm something of a divine apparition."

Mercedes sports director Toto Wolff was next to it with a knee injury. His crutch almost fell off his chair.

Recently Niki has softened. Allowed more feelings. His twins Max and Mia softned him. His whatsapp profile picture: the grinning son. Lauda came out as a loving family man. But the body wanted less and less. The lugs: sick from the corrosive fumes back then in the Ferrari. The Lauda cough, his trademark.

When I wished him a Merry Christmas on the phone in 2018, his voice was weak and cracked. The fighter inside showed the first signs of weakening. It was the last time I spoke to Lauda. On the 70th birthday in February 2019, son Max answered his cell phone. "Dad can't right now." I sent greetings.

-

When Lauda was sitting in front of the French motorhome. I happened to walk past. He saw me, jumped up briefly - and gave me the middle finger.

-

I plucked up all my courage and asked the innkeeper if I could speak to 'Mr Lauda' for a moment. He hurled at me, 'Naa, nobody can get in here.' My heart slipped into my pants and from there straight into the asphalt. Failed, right into the first race.

But Niki saw me come to the door. "So, so you want to talk to me." he said, "But first you have to tell me a Lauda joke and then I'll decide." My brain went though the Lauda jokes that I knew in a split second. Most angry.

Then it shot out of me, "Why can you never marry Lisa (read:Leisa) Minelli?"

"Why not?"

"Becuase her name would be Lisa Lauda!"

Niki bursts out laughing - then he took me to his table. Since then I've been a Lauda fan and of course a fan of Lisa Minelli.

-

Would you like to tell people who don't know you that well a little bit about your husband and father Niki Lauda? There's a lot there.

Lauda: My new family, Brigit and the children are the best thing that could have happened to me. You made me a different person. It's an unbelievable feeling when my two, Max and Misa, come to my bed on Sunday morning and do gymnastics on top of me. Then we go to have breakfast where my grandfather used to have breakfast.

What's up for Christmas?

Lauda: We bring up the children as they should. You should learn to respect. THere is only one gift for a birthday present or Christmas. In the meantime. Max is looking at the price, which Mia has chosen...funny. Pampering them with presents is the worst thing you can do to children, at least I think so.

What changes have you made in your new family

Lauda: Brigit and the children have made me much, much easier. Blinders down, farsighted, less selfish. I'm not that focused on myself anymore. I try to create an attitude to life around me which everyone feels comfortable.

What do your circle of friends say about this?

Niki Lauda, the supervisor in Mercedes Formular 1 family, orders a cappuccino and a glass of water.

Lauda: They are surprised. Speaking of friends: I am very careful with the word friend. Basically, I like having people I work with sit down in the evenings, but I'm not one to talk about 'friends' that easily.

But you have...

Lauda: Stop, stop. Brigit, yes. Brigit is my friend. I can talk to her about anything, anything. There are no secrets. Complete trust.

There is no better compliment from his mouth. What did you think when Brigit told you she was pregnant?

Lauda: It was always my wish. When I heard that there were two of them, a boy or girl. If couldn't have been better.

Were you present at the birth?

Lauda: No, I'll tell you why not. I don't want to be an additional distraction at birth like this. I know of cases where the nurse pressed the newborn baby into the hands of the father sitting there. He was in tears, so happy and suddenly this baby stopped breathing. It took a while for the nurse to notice and take her to the intensive care unit. Events like this are my argument not to make yourself so important. This is my very personal attitude. But I don't cities anyone who wants to be there either.

Has world-famous muli-millioniare Niki Lauda ever changed diapers?

Lauda: As a result of today's life and there associated emancipation of women, I have constant discussions. Why should it be different with us than in other families? I'm not saying I'm old-fashioned, but that's up to the woman. Of course, when the hat was on fire I also changed diapers, but I'm not a diaper changer... I think women are generally better at dealing with babies.

Pure Niki Lauda. He speaks as he thinks. Straight. Don't get bogged down. Think. To say. Ticked off.

I accidentally didn't screenshot this question

Lauda: Always. That's logical. My wife is opening a gallery. She is studying art history, she has two children and me. She wants to do it and can do it, but gets upset because she as too much to do. I said to her, "You made all the decisions to do it this way. I could never to what you do. You are a miracle."

And then it was good again?

Lauda: of course. Because we give each other the freedom and respect to develop as we wish. But when two people nag each other to the core, the marriage fails.

Maybe yes. Niki Lauda speaks more privately than ever. A question arises that you don't want to ask Lauda - out of respect. What touches you deep down in your heart?

Lauda: I can tell you. Just recently the death of Angle Nieto made me cry. He was 13 times motorcycle world champion, we were like brothers. A woman crashed into the back of his quad in Ibiza, fractured a skull, seven days in a coma, dead. His sons made a video of his ashes being dumped into the sea in an urn off Ibiza... flowers all over the water... that's where I was torn...

Niki Lauda shows me the video, poignant. Robbie Williams sings 'Angles' The eyes of to-the-point-not-a-word-too-much analsys next to me blur.

Lauda: The other day Mia suddenly said to me on the phone: 'Dad I heard the song on the radio where your friend died.' That pushes my tears out. Basically. I'm an insanely sensitive guy.'

-

His two adult sons Mathias and Lukas from Niki's ex wife Marlene also talk about the time with their father. And chooses harsh words:

Lukas Lauda: As a family man, Niki was a disaster. He was always on the go. That's why I have more of a brotherly relationship with him, not a father-son relationship. As a family man, he was useless.

-

Too bad. Why isn't there a woman in the race today?

Lauda: Because too few make the effort to drive go-karts as girls and fight their way to the top through the various racing series. This is a pity! For a woman nowadays, it would no longer be a problem to go racing. The cars all have power steering, so it's no longer just physical strength that counts. I wish that women would finally ride with us!

Would I be too old if I discovered my passion for racing tomorrow?

Lauda: How old are you, if I may ask?

I'm turning 22 now.

Lauda: Already too old!

-

Who was most popular with women?

Marko: We are both married. So it's okay.

Again - who was most popular?

Marko (laughs): We only counted the victories, not the women.

Lauda: We didn't have any competition for women. We always looked at each other with awe.

Marko:.. and exchanged experiences. In every sense.

Did you also exchange wives:

Lauda: I can't remember that, you, Helmut?

Marko: Let's just leave these good answers as they are.

What are your biggest character differences?

Lauda: Helmut is a grumpy bear. And I'm always lauging.

-

"It's much easier to have a so-called marriage with Toto than sometimes with wives" analyzed Lauda, "The women with their emancipation have become such a challenge that they become so difficult that I have to defend myself every day." adds Niki.

In the OSTERREICH-Talk, Lauda makes it clear: "It's logical that it's often easier between Toto than me with a wide, Toto said that too" REferring to his dream marriage with Brigit, Niki makes it clear, "We are incredibly harmonious. There's zero discussion there. But first you have to find someone like Brigit."

-

Then Lauda concrete: "The best example, 1984, Portuguese Grand Prix, decisive for the World Champion between Prost and myself. My fitness guru Willi Dungl said to me because he already knew what I was after. "You, there's a blonde Italian girl running around down there, she's always looking for you." I went right over and asked how she was doing. I then took her to dinner on Friday because I am a polite person. Then she asked me if she could have dinner with me again on Saturday. So I told her she couldn't have dinner with me, but she could come to my room from eight to ten?"

Why did Lauda only have two hours?

The ex-champion "I said I had to sleep at ten because I want to be the world champion the next day. She said okay, come into the room and left at ten minutes to ten. I slept like a god."

And what about sex in Formula 1 today?

Lauda: Formula 1 has become more of a family sport. Now the woman and children are coming along because less or nothing happens. Morale is maybe better today..."

-

Niki Lauda has gone into himself again: The ex-racer driver, who was loudly upset in the Austrian media about the participation of a male couple in the ORF dance show "Dancing Stars" has now apologized for his anti-gay statments.

The 61 year old wrote on his company Flyniki's facebook page on Wednesday, "I (...) would like to apologise to all the people who felt hurt by my choice of words, (...) Throughout my life I have not had any prejudice against homosexuals."

-

BILD: What if your son were homosexual?

Lauda: I wouldn't mind at all.

-

I was able to experience so many things with you, for which I am infinitely grateful - whether it was the countless hours in the cockpit around the world or our dinner together at the Plachutta in Grinzing, always at the same table with the same seating arrangement. Yeah, I'm going to damn miss all of that. Although you always claimed you had no friends, I have to tell you now: the kind of friendship you gave someone was unique. In a world where everyone is looking for their own advantage, you have given more than anymore could ever give back.

When you stood up for someone, fears of any consequence were foreign to you. You just did it - without a thought to what you get out of it. And believe me, my dear Niki, that's something that sets you apart from so many people.

But you were also - as already mentioned, merciless in your assessment of things that affected me both privately and professionally. The bottom line is that you were someone who spoke his mind. No ifs or buts. You and our conversations have also contributed a lot to the fact that I am now married and can call myself the happy father of two children.

-

Lauda: True, but I now have one from another institute. At that time I was in Hong Kong on a stopover between two Grand Prix and had dinner in a Japanese restaurant. I wanted to pay with plastic money, but then the waiter came, slapped my credit card in front of me and just said: "Call your bank!" I didn't know what she meant everyone laughed, but I didn't have another credit card with me. And so everyone I wanted to invite scraped together the money and I got out of this thing. The next day I call my bank and they tell me that according to their system it is completely normal that it cannot be me if I brought a sweater and jeans for 300 euros in the morning and then brought them again in the evening wants to pay by credit card. One can.

-

Lauda: I no longer get angry at those who never answer the phone. Friends always answer the phone. And there are people who are my friends. Brigit, for example, is my friend. She would never dare not answer the phone.

-

Lauda: Don't you ever want to get married?

Jagerhofer: Yes, I'll do that now anyway.

Lauda: When? Just make sure it's not a Grand Prix.

Jagerhofer: That's what Niki jokes about. We've already talked about it. I wanted to keep my girlfriends pregnancy a secret, but when I gave an interview to the ORF "Seitnblicken" Niki bursts in, "Ask him why there's a pram under the Christmas tree this year!"

According to tradition, you want the woman to take the man's name?

Both: Logical!

Lauda: This is Mrs. Lauda, and these are the Lauda children. There's no discussion at all.

How do you raise your children?

Lauda: I have an absolute cell phone ban. The children are only allowed to look at photos. There's no iPad either. But they must know how to hold the cutlery, be able to eat normally, have decent manners. Thank God my parents gave me this basic behaviour, so I'm not insecure anywhere. If I were suddenly invited to the Queen's I would have no problem holding a knife and fork properly there.

You, Herr Lauda, are said to have become more human since you married Birgit.

Lauda: When I met Brigit, two complete opposite collided. On one hand I was with my character, which was the way it was, and with my egoism shaped by racing and wanting to survive. I didn't know anything else. Then she came, with her youth, with her different views, and I have to be honest, today I am the opposite of what I was then. I'm happy and I hope my family is too.

What role does age difference play?

Lauda: She's 30 years younger, but it's not about age. It's really about her personality, I have to say that to be fair. She donated her kidney to me after eight months, she's a very strong woman, and she just showed me that I don't have to take life so seriously.

-

Lauda also enjoyed going in and out of strangers' garages. Mercedes man Lauda in front of a stripped Ferrari, that's a bit like Donald Trump showing up unannounced in the Kremlin. Anyone else would have failed at the bouncer. Nobody dared to stop the man with the cap. Niki Lauda was institution.

-

If anyone expects a friend from me, it is Brigit. This is my wide, with whom I raise my children and with whom I logically communicate about everything with. Even if I have a cold, I have to discuss it with her. Then she might say, "If you're sick, I'll make you some tea."

Speakign of tea: who pays for coffee today?

Of course I'll pay, that's logical. You are a woman.

-

Playboy: How wild were you?

Lauda: I've experienced a lot with James. I lived in London for a while when I started my racing career. He was my neighbour. So we let it rip. But he always took it to excess. I remember years later he was at my birthday party in Vienna and the next day there were test drives in France. At three o'clock in the morning I went home and said to James, "Don't tell stories, you'll be at the airport at seven o'clock in the morning." He wanted to fly with me...

Playboy: Did he come...?

Lauda: Yes but how. Half drunk. He looked like he just left out of the last bar. He had a young girl with him and held a portable radio to his ear. I put him on the plane and flew down. The test drives begin at ten o'clock sharp. After three laps I have an engine failure and thought: thank god, now I have four hours to rest. So I was sitting in the pits and suddenly I heard: Accident! We drove straight down to the track and then I saw Hunt's Mclaren. But it didn't look like an accident, no tire tracks, nothing. I went to his car and asked what's going on? And he said: "Niki, I was so tired. I had to stop here." That was James.

Playboy: After your first marriage ended in dirove in 1991, you didn't want to remarry. In 2008 you did it after all. Are men made for monogamy?

Lauda: If you ask me now: yes, before: no

Playboy: Does that mean men over 63 are made for monogamy?

Lauda: This has nothing to do with age, but with finding the right partner, and the woman with whom you have a common ground, but who still gives you enough freedom. That's the most important thing in a marriage. Of course, it's not easy. For example, I have a pronounced egoism, and I just can't shake it off. Although, a few friends who know me from before say to Brigit that I have never been like I am today. When she hears from the past, she doesn't believe it at all.

Playboy: What kinds of stories does she hear?

Lauda: What a self-centered person I was, who only gave a shit about himself and didn't make any compromises for anyone. that's all right.

-

"Is there any chance I can try a racing car one day?" And without even looking up from your newspaper said, "Fuck you guys, there's no way." And that pissed us off so much I decided to arrange it myself.

Their father laughs. "I was surprised that they did - but on the other hand I thought "Shit is not bad. I would have done the same thing." The real problem is Marlene"

Although Lauda claims to have felt little fear in racing days - "After the Nurburgring, I had some difficulties, but it too me one practise and it was fixed again." he is, to his own amusement, plainly intimidated by his ex-wife.

"Marlene hates racing like you would not believe." he says, "I married he and three months I nearly killed myself. So whenever I raced afterwards she said, "Do whatever you want , but I don't want to know." She feels it in her stomach - when I drive with her in the car and go quickly around a corner, she screams. If she finds out the boys were helping Mathias, she will kill us."

-

Krone: You rejoined the Catholic church for Max and Mia. Do you pray with them too?

Lauda: No, there is no prayer. But I read them stories. We spent hours building lego towers. I have a lot of patience, I really have to give myself credit with that. We love to go out in the garden and swing. Dive right and left for half an hour, it is really exhausting.

Krone: You are not know as a man of great feelings. Can you describe father feelings?

Lauda: Father feelings are the rush when I pick up the twins from kindergarten. As soon as they sit in the back of my car, they said in unison: "Dad, please drive in the snow!" (laughs) "Then of course I step on the gas , and then the kids laugh until we get back.

Krone: Is Niki Lauda sometimes strict?

Lauda: Brigit is strict. I'm the calm one. THis contrast works very well. Especially when Max just says, "No" when we want anything from him. Brigit then gets loud, while I have completely different principle. I calmy count to three, then the problem is solved.

Krone: Is it true that another sibling is planned for Max and Mia?

Lauda: The question comes up every month. That's just the way it is with woman. It would be illogical if you ask me. Because Brigit and I can observe and experience all developments in two gender forms with these two great children. Why do we have to triple that now? For me, it's so perfect. But women also have a say in that.

Krone: What would Niki say if a child told him at some point that he was gay?

Lauda: As far as I am concerned, all my children can be gay and lesbian. I have no problem with that at all. I would even support it. My children can be anything they want.

-

in his private life, too, he devoted his entire life to motorsport. "In reality, he only has feelings for his car and nothing else." summed up his former partner Mariella von Reininghaus, from whom he separated in 1975. A year later he married Marlene Knaus whom he had two children with. But the Viennese never had much time for his family, who lived alternately in Salzburg and Ibiza. When asked about this, Lauda once said in the Bunte: "We don't have a marriage in the classic style. We see each other four or five times a month and we're doing quite well with it."

-

Niki makes sure that his children, Mia and max aren't exposed to the public to the scrutiny so that they can live a normal life like any other children of their age. At times when the family was caught by the Paparazzi out in the open, father Niki made sure that the faces of his children were blurred and undiscernible.

-

Reversing roles in "Frustuck bet mir" Niki Lauda, known for being pragmatic, asked his alter-ego Daniel Bruhl questions of his own in today's O3, "Frustuck bei mit" He was particularly interested in the private plans of the acting star. "Well what about foam? Wedding, children?" And Bruhl, who has been in a relationship with therapist Felicitas Rombold for two years, put in a nutshell, "Yes, we will get married. We're still waiting for Felicitas doctoral thesis and until the turbulent times around 'Rush' have subsided for me, But it's very clear what we both want. She is my wife."

The 64-year old Formula 1 legend also gave private insight to. Lauda's wife Brigit is studying art history in her fifth semester, when she's at university, he looks after the children alone at home. "The last time I was supposed to make spaghetti, but I only found the sauce, there wasn't any pasta. But it was relatively easy to solve - the children simply got cornflakes again, like for breakfast. When Brigit came home, I was exhausted, but the children went to bed full and clean." In addition, the three-time Formula 1 champion, who still likes to compete with others, ran a private competition at home: counted which side Max and Mia slip into bed more often in the morning. "It's actually 1-0 for me every day - because they always come to me, Mia-mouse understood who I am, namely master of the house, and since then she's always stuck with me." he says with a laugh. And Lauda, who has always known to have read only one book in his life, namely "The seagull Johnathan" is currently expanding his reading:"I read Max and Mia Snow White every other evening. That has to be."

-

"My children, Max and Mia have just turned 6 and for their birthday they had a go-kart from a friend. I almost screamed 'Idiot!' and they wanted to drive immediately. My wife keeps saying they don't have my genes. Honestly, I have no idea if either of them will be a good driver someday, and I certainly don't want to push to find out."

-

Would you like one of your twins to become a racer?

"I hope not, but it is too early to tell. My daughter however, is a reckless one. She is exactly like me, right now, here in Vienna, it is the first time that I am alone with the children, because my wife is in New York. Immediately after this interview I run home because the baby sitter is leaving and I can't wait to be with them. It's a great experience. Brigit said I would never make it but everything goes on well."

You always seem very cold, controlled and pragmatic. Is this also the case in private life?

"I'm emotional, but I don't show it. I try to protect myself. I'm always in the spotlight so I hide. I'm easy to tears when I watch dull movies: I don't know why, but I feel like crying. "

-

You had twins with your wife Brigit eight years ago. They recently took part in a Formula 1 race for the first time. Why have you waited so long?

Because I am fundamentally opposed to children coming to car races. But my wife convinced me because there was a nice hotel in Austria with a lake and horses.

Are you a fan of a racer?

Max likes Hamilton, Mia Bottas. Perfectly divided.

-

Madonna: How difficult is it for you to give presents to your father?

Mathias Lauda: That is really very difficult. He has no hobbies, he is either sleeping or working. But we thought long and hard and found something.

Lukas Lauda: But it remains a surprise.

Madonna: Can you already reveal how the celebrations will take place?

Lukas Lauda: We're looking forward to a party in Ibiza with a smaller group, with friends and the whole family. But it's nothing pompous. He always wanted everything to be modest. In Barcelona we don't even notice the hype about him.

Mathias Lauda: Ibiza is ideal for us because we live in Barcelona and our mother and family live in Ibiza. We'll have dinner, drink a lot and go out.

Madonna: How close is the contract - despite the distance?

Lukas Lauda: We don't see much of the father, but we're used to that. It's always fun when we're together.

Mathias Lauda: We lived in Salzburg until I was about 15 and father in Vienna. Most of the time we only saw each other on weekends. Now Lukas and I have our center in Barcelona. We actually only wanted to move to the city for a short time and stayed! But we manage to see our father once a month.

Madonna: How is Niki Lauda as a father?

Lukas Lauda: There is a lot of laughter, but also a lot of criticism - in a positive sense. He's a good father, but he's certainly not a model father. That also had advantages. We don't have a typical father-son relationship as a result. We are more like brothers and friends.

Mathias Lauda: That's right, we can talk about anything.

-

Naida: Mr Lauda, congratulations on the wedding. Why did you want to keep the registry office secret?

Niki Lauda: So the wedding after all! Look, it's very simple. I understand that I'm always in the shop window with my red cap. THat's part of it and also helps me in business. But I am not the Boris Becker who has been in the media with his relationship for years. That's his way! My way s very different. Already at the beginning of my career at Ferrari I learnt how to draw boundaries. There is a partition that protects me and people around me. I need a territory that is only mine. The fun stops at my deepest feelings.

Nadia: But a wedding is also a public commitment to each other...

Lauda: Yes, of course, there is a marriage certification and an official act. I stand by Bridit so much that I wanted to go to the reisty office. I wanted to show her she is the woman for me.

Nadia: Sounds almost romantic...

Lauda: So I'm really not romantic

Nadia: How did you ask for Brigit's hand?

Lauda: In ibiza in a pizzeria, about two months ago

Naida: And when exactly did you get married?

Lauda: It was on Augst 25th at half past three in the afternoon in Viennese registry office. The registry organized it and we went in very inconspiciously.

Naida: With the red cap and jeans?

Lauda: Exactly

Naida: Were your family and close friends informed?

Lauda: Marlene and the boys already kenw it, it went according to plan. I didn't tell friends, every single person would have been a source of risk.

-

But they have a ball as friends. "I went to visit him (at his home) in Ibiza", recalls Lewis, "He would often invite me, we'd fly on his plane and I'd always get him to tell me stories. He had so many great stories. If you watch Rush he's portrayed as the serious, dedicated guy in contrast to James Hunt. But that was only one side of him. He loved the ladies too."

-

Niki is very proud of his skills with dogs. He even confided in me once that he thought he was a dog whisperer.

"What does that mean?"

"I understand dogs, and dogs understand me."

"For example?"

"They follow me even in difficult situations because I empathize."

"What would that look like?"

"Felix, for example, got his tail stuck in the trunk of the car and..."

"...hold on. Did he close the trunk himself?"

"No, I closed it, but only very gently..."

"which means the big dog whisperer pinched the dog's tail."

"Just a little, and Felix squeaked just a little. Something like this (Lauda squeaks very softly), but after that, he never jumped into the car again. Not for anything. He lay down on the floor, turned his back, and showed with every move he made: I am not going to jump in to that."

"And how did you cope with this incredible situation?"

"I offered him another car. He didn't want to go in there either. But I talked to him for so long and kept giving him treats until he finally jumped in. Now he's going it again, thank god. And Shivas will jump in anytime."

"Did you pinch his tail as well?"

(Annoyed) "NO."

"All right, all right."

-

Thank you for reading if you got this far! I hope you enjoyed the read and learned a lot more about Niki! Please don't ask how long this took me 😂

[ramenwithbroccoli]

He:

he took part in the November Uprising of 1830, fought in major battles and survived

traveled to England but the ship got wrecked near the shores of Norway. he survived and got to England anyway

went to Spain where he fought in civil war, traveled to Portugal and Morocco, ending up in France

became a doctor of medicine and surgery

went back to Poland (illegaly) to see his family, but got sent back to France by prussians

visited Denmark, Sweden and England. then went back to Poland (illegaly) to see his family (again), got put in prison for a while and then they sent him back to France (again)

when finally getting back to Poland, started his writing career with memoirs of his travels ("wspomnienia z podróży po Danii, Norwegii, Anglii, Portugalii, Hiszpanii i panstwie marokańskim" [1884]). however it wasn't long since he was accused of plagiarism

a man asked him to help publish his book ("Najnowsza podróż po Danii, Norwegii i Szwecji") but not thinking much, Tripplin signed the work with his own name. however he didn't have ill intentions and passed all the money to the actual author

he wrote first polish novels that could be classified as science fiction: "Maskarada w obłokach, czyli podróż nadpowietrzna nad Morze Północne" ('masquerade in the clouds, or aerial travel over the North Sea' ) published in 1856 [7 years before Verne's "five weeks in a baloon"!] and "Podróż po księżycu odbyta przez Serafina Bolińskiego" (the travel to the moon taken by Serafin Boliński) published in 1858 [7 years before Verne's "from the earth to the moon" was published]

he then travelled and lived for a bit in Vienna, Constantinopole, Greece, Jerusalem, Egypt, Algier, back to France, Italy where he fought for its independence for a bit, and then back to Jerusalem

when trying to return to Poland he got put in austrian prison and diagnosed woth tuberculosis. that got him a permit to return to the country but he had problems on the russian border, because he was dead. everyone knew he was dead and he even had a grave

as it turns out, when in Jerusalem, his student stole his belongings and documents, fled to Italy, spent a while there and then died, penniless, due to morphine addiction. he got buried as dr Tripplin while the actual Teodor never got his money or documents back

after finally reaching Warsaw in 1877, he wrote "wspomnienia z ostatnich podróży" (memories from the last travels) and died in 1881,at the age of 69

sometimes all you need in life is a fucked up little soldier-doctor-author-scifi pioneer-traveler from 1812