#two months before the berlin wall goes up

[richo1915]

[gaysindistress]

Day three of halloweek Oct 26: Heads will roll - winter soldier x black! reader

🚩As all of these will be dark/horror mood boards & blurbs, it goes without saying that there will be dark and/or horror themes. I will add specific warnings if there is anything that may be especially triggering however please keep in mind that dark and/or horror themes will be present regardless.🚩

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

He’s been following me for months now.

It started in Berlin after I got home from clubbing with my co worker and her friends.

When I moved to Hamburg a few weeks after, I noticed a shadowy figure following me again.

I thought I’d be safe in Kraków and then Oslo but he was there too. Things were fine in Bucharest, long enough for me to feel like he’d finally left me alone, but then he showed up.

The music pounds in my chest so much so that I can’t feel the difference between my heartbeat and it. Two of my friends, Sofia and Maddie, are on either side of me, bouncing along with me. I can feel eyes on me but it’s not from anyone around me. My head falls against Sofia’s shoulder as I survey the crowded room.

That’s when I see him by the back exit. He’s in the same black tactical suit as usual with his face covered with a mask but the goggles are gone. Now I can see his unyielding eyes as they bore into me.

One of my friends asks if I want to get a drink and I vaguely remember saying “sure”. My focus is entirely on him as he steps back into the shadows.

“Follow him,” a voice orders me and I obey. I slip away from my friends and they don’t even notice. I gently push my way through the crowd and find my way to where I last saw him. As I pat down the wall, feeling for the door handle, a cold hand grips my bicep and pulls me into the shadows.

He has my back pinned against his chest and that cold metal hand is clasped over my mouth. He doesn’t say a word as he drags me out of the club and into the alley. There’s a sharp pain on the side of my neck and the last thing I see before the world fades black is him taking his mask completely off. Behind it is the stunning face of my captor.

[bzedan]

[ID: An digital illustration evocative of the singing flowers in Disney's Alice In Wonderland, with airbrush shaded backgrounds but coloured line cell-shading for the main figure. The flower is a California Poppy with the face of Garfield. In pink tilted letters in the upper left corner is "March" over a turquoise hand-drawn looking font with "2024." End ID.]

Finally got an over-three-hour playlist, bits of spring means ups and downs and sad wet cat feelings along with the manic joy of the days getting longer. I've mentioned this before but every time I hear All Saints' "Love Lasts Forever" part of me thinks it is the theme song to *Highlander*. Bless my brain where there's some pop girl version of *Highlander*. Can you imagine?!

Related media to some of the songs:

The very awesome Cola Boyy died this month at 34, which is not enough years but I'm glad we were given what we did. His disco pop is a joy and his cover of 'To Be Rich Should Be a Crime' is the version that lives in my head. Here's a mini-doc over on Vimeo that came out with that single.

I stumbled across Tele Novella this month and they hit a lot of sound boxes for me. "Eggs in one Basket" has an appropriately weird video. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTB-uwAd0v8)

I'd heard "Pump Up the Volume," of which Colorbox was part (primary part, for this song) before because I'm a person living in the world the years I have, but somehow hadn't encountered "The Moon Is Blue"?! One of those bands for whom things went right then fell apart. Wolfgang Tillmans did an exhibition collecting their work in a "playback room" exhibition.

I remain fond of younger folks reinterpreting the imagery and sound from my high school years and Lauran Hibberd hits that. See 2nd prettiest girl as an example.

Anyway here's a link to March's playlist on Spotify, with the track list below the cut. 

And embedded if you dig that:

'Don't Let the Green Grass Fool You' - Wilson Pickett

'King's Crossing' - Elliott Smith

'Hearts and Flowers' - Jennifer Lopez

'Cloudy Day' - Tones And I

'99 Luftballons' - Stereoact

'Waters of March' - Art Garfunkel

'Pop Goes The World' - Men Without Hats

'Mother Nature' - MGMT

'The Moon Is Blue' - Colourbox

'Ask The Community' - Timber Timbre

'Good Times' - Eric Burdon & the Animals

'So Much (For) Stardust' - Fall Out Boy

'Masquerade - Re-Recorded' - Berlin

'Era Primavera' - Chicano Batman

'wavering grass' - demon gummies

'All Night Long (All Night)' - Lionel Richie

'Love Lasts Forever' - All Saints

'Rhythm Of The Night' - DeBarge

'Only You Can' - Fox

'Can't Get Enough' - Jennifer Lopez

'That Time' - Regina Spektor

'Daniel' - Bat For Lashes

'Calling All Kids' - Arthur Russell

'Talkin' Like You (Two Tall Mountains)' - Connie Converse

'Psychic Vampire' - Tristen

'And When I Die' - Peter, Paul and Mary

'Dancing with Tears in My Eyes' - Ultravox

'Alien Boy' - Oliver Tree

'Baby Blue Sedan' - Modest Mouse

'Bulletproof' - La Roux

'Help I'm Alive' - Metric

'Eggs in one Basket' - Tele Novella

'Perfect (Exceeder)' - David Guetta

'Bullet With Butterfly Wings - Remastered 2012' - The Smashing Pumpkins

'Right Time of Night' - Urban Heat

'Paper Crown' - Tele Novella

'Balloon Man' - Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians

'The Rubberband Man' - The Spinners

'It Won't Be Long' - Tele Novella

'Hurdy Gurdy Man' - Donovan

'Aladdin' - Future Islands

'Beautiful People' - The Books

'Don't Touch My Bikini' - The Halo Benders

'Toy Boy' - MIKA

'Keep It Rolling' - Bloc Party

'Don't You Evah' - Spoon

'Paper Thin Walls' - Modest Mouse

'Peach Sky' - Bat For Lashes

'Heathens' - AURORA

'Dancing Barefoot' - Patti Smith

'To Be Rich Should Be a Crime' - Cola Boyy

'Bugs' - O'Death

'pretty good for a bad day' - Lauran Hibberd

'Synthetica' - Metric

'Hermit the Frog' - MARINA

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells (Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Second Intel | Quiet

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman

Words: 1,019

A/N: I’m bad at drabbles

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

The streets are quiet. The city of Berlin seems to have become more grey than before in the past couple of months. Since it happened. The television in the safehouse sparking and showing chaos.

Now, it’s just quiet. And grey. Grey walls. Grey skies. Grey buildings. And grey corpses. Their skin a pitiful color to match everything else. Outside of groans and growls and gnashing of teeth in the streets and some within the many buildings of this city—it’s hushed. Dead.

Just like the line to Washington is. Still.

Ever since March, it seems the fate of the world will keep staying at the edge of a cliff. How far shall it tip now? The universe seems to wants to know, a curious thing.

You rather not know.

You rather not know a lot of thing’s, but here you are. A piece of a puzzle that doesn’t fit within the safehouse—that also was grey and dull and the constant fluorescent lighting didn’t help either. You didn’t think this place could become more life sucking(Lazar you’re sure, would’ve challenged you on that. If he was here.) until now that winter is around the corner.

You do know that Adler wants to know. A lot. Waiting by the phone as if it would suddenly ring when they weren’t organizing supplies or observing the corpses and where they are and which buildings they haven’t salvaged yet. As if he was a guard. A guard to a dead line.

You try to stay out of his way when he’s like that. You’ve been doing that ever since the reveal. The gurney. The needles. The truth.

You can’t stop the needed interactions in order for them as a group to survive and make it. Until they get through to Washington. His updates to you about supplies that he works with Park. The planned routes to guide the zombies as far away from the safehouse as possible. As recluse as it is already in between the office buildings around them.

Adler’s eyes still hiding behind his shades as he would look at you. It took a long time for you to even to look at his face again and not keep your head bowed and hands tight and trembling in your jacket pockets. You are still thankful his shades covers his eyes most of the time, at least in the safehouse and not when he goes on watch. You do not think you could meet his eyes yet. Not fully.

The safehouse can be quiet too. But it’s more of a muffled sort of quiet. With Sims’ generators for power. He would share his Walkman to the others too. Just for sanity’s sake. Park scratching along the papers, keeping track of what they have and what they need. Mason cleans the weapons, or takes them apart. Over and over again in a calming pattern that is therapeutic to hear and must be for him.

You think Mason’s thoughts must be loud too. No one wants to mention Alaska.

No one mentions Hudson either. For anyone.

Woods is loud. Always has and always will be. Even with the world at it’s end. You asked him how he could still be the same, when the shit show started, when they were still trying to save civilians and the safehouse had more people. (“Civilians aren’t meant for this kind of life. We can help them more if we can find a way to Solovetsky and not make this worse.” Woods and Mason got angry at Adler at that. You kept silent as you stood behind your two shields. Even when you felt Adler’s probing stare on you.)

“The world has always been into fucked up shit,” he said to you, as the both of you stood watch on the roof, guns in their hands and Woods eyes on the horizon before he snorted and looked over at your curious expression. “The only difference is the dead doesn’t really like to stop moving after all. Outside a classic headshot. Takes postmortem jitters to a whole new fucking level. We’re practically in a shitty George Romero movie.” At your questioning look, Woods almost looked offended. Affronted even when you said you don’t know what that means. “What? You’ve gotta be shitting me. Well,” he put a hand to your head, ruffling and messing up your beanie turned ski mask and laughing as you lightly slapped his hands away and looking miffed as you tried to fix it and your hair under it, “when this shit show is over, I’ll show you his movies. If. . . you’re not too traumatized by this.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his uncomfortable change of tone, if he crossed a line. You only looked at him, hope rising in your chest. When someone says when instead of if is a desire indeed.

“Really?”

He took note of your climbing smile with a roguish grin, his arm falling on your shoulders in the way he’s always done in familiar camaraderie.

“Of course, chimes. Gotta warn ya though, George Romero is a sick fuck with the kinds of movies he does.”

“With the things we’ve seen,” you say, looking away with a humorless smile and taking note of just how warm Woods is. Woods staring at your somber expression. “I think I can handle it.”

It was silent for a moment before Woods put the hand connected to the arm around you to your head. But instead of ruffling it, he just…had it there. You can feel the warmth of his hand here too. Even through your beanie.

You looked up at him. Finding his expression a strange mix of pride yet. . . sad.

“You bet your fuckin ass you can. Out of everyone here, you can handle any kind of bullshit thrown your way. Seen it firsthand.”

You huffed out your nose, smiling and looking at him through your lashes before he slightly coughed and released you to continue their dutiful watch. Or they’ll get yelled at. Most specifically him.

Woods is loud. Berlin is quiet.

But the one man army could be soft too.

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

A/N: I clearly have no self control whatsoever 💀 Drabbles are supposed to be like 100-800 at the most and here I am already cheating. I need to calm down.

Again, stuff will be revealed slowly. There’s gonna be jumping back and forth. Also. I like Soft!Woods. Like a lot.

Tell me if you wish to be tagged or preferred not to be tagged.

Tag List: @smokeywhalee @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl

[herrlindemann]

Bravo Magazine - 17 October 1996

Thundering metal sound, hard-hitting lyrics and a spectacular pyro show: Rammstein, the new cult band from East Berlin, sets the stage on fire at every show. BRAVO witnessed the explosive fire spell — and witnessed a dangerous backstage glitch.

Heavy hammers bang on iron plates, circular saws screech deafeningly. Trains rattle over sleepers and helicopters rattle through the air — like an inferno, wild machine sound breaks out over the approximately 5,000 fans in Berlin's "Arena" at the start. Exactly 14 (!) minutes the sound chaos thunders monotonously through the hall, then drummer Christoph Schneider storms onto the stage and begins to fight against the machine groove with hard staccato beats. Seconds later, in the poisonous yellow light of the headlights, the two guitarists Richard Z. Kruspe and Paul Landers sprint to the stage ramp in silver space costumes. Behind them, bassist Oliver Riedel alias Lars Riedel and keyboardist Flake Lorenz. Frontman Till Lindemann appears last. A sight to fear: In his floor-length, 65-kilogram steel coat, the gigantic rocker strides to the microphone. His face is rigid, he hides his eyes behind metal goggles. The "machine man" roars in a dark voice: "Rammstein, ein Flammenmeer. Rammstein, die Sonne scheint. Rammstein, Mütter schreien. Rammstein, kein Entrinnen….”

In the middle of the song, a huge, three-meter-long jet of flame suddenly shoots out from under the drum pedestal and hits the Rammstein singer from behind. In no time Till is on fire. The crowd screams in horror as he staggers to the stage ramp, burning. Flames licked up Till's arms and back for two minutes until he disappeared behind the amplifiers to extinguish at the final chords of the song...

The pyro show by the East Berlin industrial rock band Rammstein starts with these spectacular scenes. Rammstein has been in the charts for months with their album of the same name and is regarded as a new cult band in the heavy scene. All 14 songs are accompanied by "hot" effects during the 80-minute performance. During “Bestrafe Mich”, shellac powder explodes in dozens of shells with blinding green searing flashes. During ”Fleisch” Till jumps from a height of 2.50 meters from a box center. A glistening shower of sparks sprays from nozzles under his steel shoes. Even more sparks fly during “Laichzeit”. Magnesium sparks spray from Till's steel fingers while he lets his arms circle like a savage. In the finale "Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen" the "Fire Devil" pulls glaring bursts of fire across the entire stage as if from a flamethrower. Flames blaze up from the iron dragon heads on the sides of the stage, from the drum platform and from the floor, melting the blocks of ice that are piled up on a porch as a cooling barrier to the audience. Two long "fire witches" in skin-tight rubber clothes try in the middle of the fire chaos to seduce the singer with all the rules of the art - with success: Suddenly Till grabs her.

The rubber tears - and one of the two dancers stands there, "bottomless". She waves her well-formed rear end extensively in front of the fans before she and her colleague suddenly ignite distress flares. With two quick steps, the girls are at the front of the ledge, lowering the torches, setting in motion the hottest effect of the evening. Flames rush from either side of the stage toward the center, where they coalesce in a blazing wall of fire, behind which the band's thunderous final chord suddenly falls silent. For seconds, crackling flames hit the ceiling. Everything seems to be on fire. But as suddenly as the fire started, it goes out again. What remains is an empty, soot-blackened stage and an acrid smell of sulphur. “I have a state license as a pyrotechnician and prepare all the fire tricks myself," explains Till after the show. “I know the dangers of playing with fire!” Apparently not well enough, because during the rehearsals shortly before the show in Berlin there was a dangerous breakdown: Till had smeared too much fire paste on the steel jacket. Suddenly the flames shot up the whole back of the coat, even catching the stand-up collar. Till was on fire! At the last moment, two roadies managed to smother the flames with the fire extinguisher. Till "It was really close, I couldn't breathe anymore, but that's the professional risk..."

[1d-discourseoftheday]

💙 Tues 5 Jan ‘21 💚

Is today's biggest story really a pair of socks I mean WHY NOT am I right, that may as well happen! With impeccable timing, as the fandom and the world went bananas about Ho-livia WildStyle (a drag queen name for the ages right there), the first of the limited edition TPWK socks that people ordered basically on blind faith (you fully couldn't tell what they were going to look like at all on the website, and now we know why lmao) have arrived with a bang: they seemed to come with either blue or pink hearts, but in fact it turns out you get one of two color combos, either pink and white or, uh: BLUE AND GREEN HEARTS. I'm not one to carry on about like jeans and a green shirt or what have you but this is a CHOICE, and if the antis don't have performative burnings of their evil larrie merch honestly WHAT is the POINT; the resale market of the limited edition socks is already booming though so there's always that option, if either side can bear to conduct business across the divide. My question is, did they really time it to play out this precisely on purpose? Unlikely tbh, but if that's a thing they're capable of I have some THOUGHTS about the way other Harry merch takes like 4 months to arrive...

Larrie socks aside however, the real discourse continues to be about you-know-what, with the players out there fanning the flames wildly. There's too much nonsense to bother with it all (the quoted sources in the articles directly contradicting each other's stories also makes it difficult) so let's just... *spins wheel*....okay I landed on 'tabloids say Harry's wedding speech talked about his girlfriend Olivia' here goes. Sjksdfjks WHY would you be talking about your girlfriend of three weeks in a speech for your close friends' wedding, OMG, how uncomfortable and inappropriate is that?? Imagine if any of this were real, that Harry ('I'd take my time and make sure a thing was serious before telling people about it', end quote, I mean that's ALSO a stunt quote (oh the layers) but just pointing out that it's contradictory) starts dating his co-worker who just got out of a huge relationship and is also a famous person with presumably an interest in privacy, and immediately the two of you get to work setting up a big reveal to happen right away (even in a weird fantasy world where any of this is real the possibility that JEFF AZOFF'S WEDDING had the paps present for any other reason than to do EXACTLY what they were told is flat impossible- what pap or celeb outlet can afford to be on Jeff's bad list?!) and then he casually writes her into his speech (a guy who's so anxious and shy about public speaking and what to say that he begs people to write speeches for him and practices endlessly) uh huh, sure Jan. There are so many things about this that are ludicrous, but more to the point, none of the things they're saying hold up to scrutiny any better than this. There just isn't any point in taking them that seriously though; Harry is a closeted artist and, just like the many queer artists that came before him who he repeatedly reminds us are his icons, he both lets us know all day every day in a million ways that he's queer, and also plays the industry game and winkingly gives the press their Straight Guy Harry fodder. You don't have to like it, or indeed anything at all in this world, but people do need to accept that whether they like it or not is neither the point nor anyone (including Harry)'s responsibility to respond to or do anything about.

Like I said I can't cover every detail but! I always have a little space for the absurd: today, our best entrant is the possibility that the whole wedding we saw was a sham– fans ask, was this public spectacle Jeff and Glenne's actual wedding? Listen if anyone would be up for it it would be this crew, and if they did stage it I'm sure they had a good laugh! Suspicion has been cast on Glenne's dress (allegedly an untailored 2018 off the rack number), the small guest list (wouldn't they just wait and have a huge event?), and the fact that they invited paps there at all. It would make the no explanation robe pics EVEN FUNNIER though if you imagine that was for our benefit but left totally unadressed (undressed). ANYWAY Don't Worry Darling filming is back in business and Harry was papped some more today, out for a casual not at all pap walk hike with a work associate and multiple items of his own merch (including an unreleased hoodie design.) On the topic of DWD, sometimes a different perspective can be interesting-- for example considering whether Harry is the point of all this at all? Or is he but a bit player in the real DWD publicity drama, an elaborate and very public dramatic reconciliation between Olivia and her ex husband? Either way, he's neither a clueless dupe, a helpless pawn, or anyone's 'boy toy', so please: can we rein in the hand wringing and pointless Olivia bashing a bit?

Let's talk about something else shall we? For example! Liam's setlist, just released for the upcoming LP Show Act 4. Look at that song selection! Fireproof! Strong!! Through The Dark!! More exciting 1D faves! Plus Slow and Home With You off his EP, NICE, singles and more, it looks awesome. The Hugo Man fragrance relaunch is less exciting, featuring the dopiest possible articles full of chat about his skin care routine (oh shucks I'm just  manly man, I don't have one at all... *names two products and refers to 'multiple moisturizers'*), trademark accidental candor (“I’m quite tired!”), and of course trying to describe a fragrance, always an entertaining gymnastics (“every time I spray it, it kind of takes me back to being on that rooftop in Berlin”), but also there are manly new pics of Lia.

A new song Niall co-wrote is coming out! The JC Stewart song, Break My Heart, will be out this Fri! Charlie Lightening posted pics from a year ago on the Walls music video set, featuring an intent Louis in the sun (and fashion voter underrated excellent Looks), and Louis commented on Dave Allen's post (“top man!”)-- the famous boxer is offering to help friends through lockdown by facetiming 3or 4 people a day for home workouts, damn, and also aww. That shitty Doncaster secondary school turned out some really sweet dudes, against all odds tbh. With Los Angeles experiencing some of the worst COVID surges we've seen since the beginning of the pandemic, Grammys organizers have elected to postpone the (already limited) ceremony. Originally scheduled for Jan 31 it is now TBA, tentatively for March. Harry's stalker, who menaced him in and near his London home in 2019, is being charged with violating his restraining order by attempting to contact Harry via social media, Global Fund for Women thanked Harry for donating, and HLDaily and other accounts were suspended for posting pap pics, always a risk, but one trick potato Jeff is on the job; HSD is back up and running, cause they can't have a proper stunt season without their most faithful mouthpieces. Niall continues to vote for himself on twitter threads about what to listen to in the New Year.

[antiherocorner]

Huh... Alright, I'm doing... I think I'm doing it...

This is my very first fanfic ever... I'm still learning... This is a part 1 thing... I'm currently in the middle of a university exam period, so I couldn't finish the whole story yet, but I will as soon as I can, but I don't want to wait anymore... My English is okay-ish... It's not my native language, so there maybe some grammatical mistakes, I hope it's still readable... I tried my best... Just bear with me, I'll try to learn and improve... I'm very nervous...

Facts about the story: there is no age mentioning, Reader is around 25-26, I made Daniel younger in my head, 34-36 (single, no wife, no kids, let's respect the real Brühl family), Reader is female, I am Hungarian as well (possible Hungarian language in the future), I'm studying Russian (possible Russian language in the future), and I just started learning German, I used translater (sorry if I messed it up but, I really tried, please tell me if it's horrible), and one more thing... I have never met Daniel, nor I went to Berlin (yet, I really want to, and planning)... All of this are imagination, dreaming, and a little searching...

Warnings: none?... i think?... Apart from the horrible language uses and horrible jokes... Maybe swearing.

(Bad) Summary: a Hungarian girl goes to Berlin with a Russian friend of hers, as tourists. They always wanted to visit the city (not because Reader has a crush on the one and only Daniel Brühl, and wants to go to his tapas bar...of course). When the Reader goes back alone to the bar, Daniel is there too... The big meeting, adventures, fun, love, shitty romcom vibes ahead... (i hope the story is better than the summary...)

And now, after this awkward rambling, I present to you:

-----------------------------------

With Love from Berlin

Part 1

You couldn’t believe it. Finally, after months of preparation, you and your best friend were finally here, in the heart of Germany, Berlin. It was very different from what you were used to. Coming from a small city from Hungary, this was way bigger than your imagination. All kinds of people from different cultures merged into one. Museums, cafes, bars, restaurants, you didn’t even know where to begin. You took a deep breath in your hotel room. Your friend insisted on getting different rooms, in case she or you find someone to have a good time, if you know what I mean. Well, rather your friend, than you. You wanted to come here after many years, and you were finally here, so you want to experience as much of this city as you possibly could, you’re not gonna waste your time on a random (or more, glancing at your friend) man. 

You arrived at the hotel around 1.00pm, so you decided to go get some lunch somewhere close. You were a little bit tired of the long hours on the train. Just around a corner from where you were staying there was a tapas bar. Bar Raval. Your friend wasn’t really into movies that much, or actors in particular, but you knew that place, although you have never been there. You didn’t think about yourself as a “fangirl”, but you really admired the work of Daniel Brühl. You knew there was little to no chance that you could get even a tiny glance of him, but in over all: you would be happy just to say that you were in his bar. Your friend liked Spanish cuisine, so it didn’t take much to convince her to eat there. 

A Hungarian and a Russian woman walked into a Spanish restaurant in Germany, Berlin. Sounded comical. The place looked very friendly and funky. There were some people, not really a crowd. You decided to sit in the corner, with your back to the wall, so you can observe your surroundings. Your friend sits down opposite you. A waiter comes up to you:

- Willkommen! Was möchten Sie gerne? - he asked, looking between the two of you.

- Oh, sorry, we don’t really speak German. - you said with quite a thick Hungarian accent, because you got nervous due the potential language barrier.

- I see, It’s okay. We usually have all kinds of tourist here, so you’re good. What can I get for you two? - he asked with a welcoming smile.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to eat, you weren’t familiar with Spanish food at all, so you just trusted your friend to order something. She ordered something with pasta, and another thing with pasta. You had no idea what she just said. And some juice. She smiled at the waiter who scribbled down your order, and of he went. You looked around while you were waiting.

- It’s nice isn’t it?

- Yeah, it is. Quite bohemian. I would have guessed you would want to go to a traditional German restaurant. Why are we here? - smiled your friend knowingly.

- Well… You know…

- Is this the place of your man?

- What?! Shut up… - blushing - I just like his movies, that’s all… Anyway, I just liked the pictures of this place…

- ...and him…

- ...AND I wanted to check it out myself, ok?

- Ok-Ok...

You smiled at each other. You were best friends for years now, you could communicate without much of words. The waiter arrived with your plates. The food was good. In fact, more than good. In general, you prefer other cuisines, but you really liked this Spanish place. In Berlin. Odd, in the best way. After the lunch you went back to the hotel. Your friend wanted to go to a small club in the evening, so you decided to just chill throughout the afternoon. 

The traveling took the better of you, as you didn’t just not feel fresh after your nap, but you actually felt like shit. Your friend on the other hand really wanted to get going. So you assured her and yourself that it’s fine if you didn’t go to a club. She was a strong woman, and the club which she picked was just a couple of blocks away, so she decided, after she made sure that it is truly okay, to leave you behind in your room. You have never been a party-animal anyway, and you really just wanted to plan for tomorrow. There were so many things you wanted to watch in the city. After a few hours of planning and searching, you eventually fall asleep on the couch.

In the morning, luckily, you felt much better, more of yourself than in the previous afternoon. You took a shower, get dressed (purple converse, dark skinny jeans, blue tank-top and a blue/black checked shirt...nothing can go wrong dressing like this, you thought), grabbed your camo, ex-military little gym bag, locked your room’s door, and went to knock on your friend’s door. It took a few minutes, some groans, and other small noises, when she finally flung the door open. The sight was hideous.

- The hell happened to you? - you really tried not to laugh.

- Laugh, as you like… I had a good time. Drank more vodka that I could handle though…

- Are you alone or…?

- I am… Calm down, I didn’t get lied… Although I tried… But I didn’t!!! - she said quickly after she saw the frown on your face. - But I feel very shitty… My hangover is killing me, I didn’t give out anything yet… But I might throw up at any minute now…

- How can I help you? Stay with you? Bring you something from that little shop we saw yesterday?

- Some water would be nice… But I don’t want you to see me like this… And I will be fine, i’m just gonna rest today… You can go on on your sightseeing trip.

- Are you sure? I’m gladly staying with you…

- No, no! You wanted to come so badly, I don’t want to take a day away from you. I will be alright.

- You promise?

- I do. Please, just go. - she smiled at you.

- Alright. I’ll go grab you some water, and… I don’t know, go for a walk or something. Get breakfast.

- For the mentioning of food, your friend’s face went green and particularly jumped into her bathroom.

- I’m coming back in a minute or two! - you shouted after her, than closed her hotel room’s door.

You went down to get some water, some bread and some crackers which would be easy on her stomach, yet she still would be able to eat something throughout the day. You knocked on her door, which opened just slightly, an arm came out to take the bag from your hand, a small, weak “Спасибо” and just like that the door was closed again. You giggled to her door before you headed down to the street.

You honestly didn’t really want to explore many things without her, so you tried to keep your excitement low. You decided to go back to that bar where you ate your lunch yesterday. You liked it a lot, and it wasn’t a new place to discover, which meant that your friend wasn’t missing out on anything. You went to the bar. It was still early morning, not many people were there. A few old people, some of them are couples. The younger generation (yours) was probably still sleeping. Besides, the place was more like a lunch/dinner kind of place anyway. The waiter looked up and recognised you.

- Good morning! Alone this time?

- Good morning to you too! Yes, my friend had a wild party last night, and she is standing at the gates of Hell right now.

- That sounds bad. - he laughed.

- It is, she looked scary… - that made him chuckle.

- So what can i do for you today?

- I would like just a cappuccino, please.

- Alright, just sit down, I’m on it.

- Thank you!

You sat down at the exact place where you did yesterday, next to the window, with your back to the wall. You put down your bag, and looked around. With less people, the place looked cozier. You really did like it a lot. Eventually, your cappucino arrived. You thanked it, and tasted it. It was delicious. You were one of those people who liked to read next to a fresh coffee, and you always had a book around you. You took it out from your handy-dandy bag and started reading it, holding it a little up in your hands, leaned back on your chair. You were reading one of your favourite books (Pushkin - Anyegin), while sipping a good morning cappuccino, in a nice place. You just relaxed to the small sounds of the bar and sounds of the city, which infiltrated through the door and windows.

- Eine interessante Wahl von Buch am Morgen. Interessanter als eine Zeitung, das ist sicher...

No. Just...no. You were hallucinating. You felt like everything was frozen around you. From out of 2.8 millions of people (roughly), you would recognize this voice. His voice. You physically could not look up.

- Omm.. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you just said… - you said with the weakest voice and in the thickest accent ever, in your whole damn life. You hoped that if you make this man say another thing you fall back to reality.

- Oh, my bad - he giggled - I just said that it is an interesting choice of read in the morning, it sure is more interesting than a newspaper.

Shit, this was the reality. 

You dared to look up, and your eyes met the most chocolaty eyes ever on this whole planet, but at least in the whole of Berlin. The owner of those eyes was leaning on the chair opposite you.

- Hello. I’m the owner of this Bar, I’m Daniel. - he offered his hand to you.

- Hi, I kno...i mean I’m (Y/N), I’m the costumer…? - you finished with a questioning voice and all you wanted was for the ground to open, swallow you, and with that wipe you out of this universe. You shook his hand, without looking at him directly. His hands were warm and secure. After he released you, you closed your eyes, already feeling the burning sensation in your face. You heard a deep chuckle.

- Yeah, I guessed that. You’re not from Germany and you aren't British either, aren’t you?

You opened your (Y/E/C) eyes only to meet his curious ones.

- No, I’m not. I’m just a tourist here, I’m from Hungary.

- Oh, I’ve been there. It’s a lovely country. Would you mind if I sit down? - gesturing to the empty chair opposite from you.

- Yes… I mean no… - you took a deep breath - If you would like to you can sit with me. - This is just going great...

You earned another deep chuckle from the man in front of you, while he sat down.

- So… What are you doing here alone, in Berlin?

- I’m not alone.

- Oh… Anniversary? - for a moment you thought you saw something in his eyes. Sadness?

- Not that either. I don’t have anyone to celebrate such things. I came here with my friend, but she got wasted last night, and probably at the moment she is agonizing in her bathroom above the toilet.

- Hm… that’s not nice. - curiosity was coming back to his face.

The two of you stayed in silence. It wasn’t really uncomfortable, you were just terribly shy, and couldn’t stop blushing. You even tried to hide some of your face by leaning on one of your palms, and sipping your coffee.

This is aweful. Daniel f*ing Brühl is sitting opposite me, and I can’t even look at him. He must be thinking I’m one of those fangirls who just can’t keep it together before their idols. Which is true, but he shouldn’t have to know that…

But he wasn’t thinking that. Quite the opposite actually. You were so out of place in his bar, he had to approach you. There was something in you which made him intrigued. While you were trying to hide, which he found a little bit cute and entertaining, he tried to study you as well. There was something in you. He felt like he wanted to know your story.

- So what’s the plan for today?

...........

[theyanderespecialist]

MY Winters: Various Yandere Resident Evil 8 X OC Female Ethan (Story Teaser/First Chapter)

Marie Winters, she will do anything for family even make deals with people in obsessive love with her. Anything to get her daughter back.

[Side Note this starts right when Heisenberg catches you this was originally going to be a mini series in the horror and slasher one shot series but it became a story so please enjoy

WARNING This has a LOT MORE SEX And Sexual tension in it!]

Wattpad: 

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/270098192-my-winters-various-yandere-resident-evil-8-x-oc

Quotev: 

https://www.quotev.com/story/13860317/MY-Winters-Various-Yandere-Resident-Evil-8-X-OC-Female-Ethan

Heisenberg's Deal

This was going to be a mini series and now it is a full fledged story elsewhere and this will just be the first chapter posted here as a teaser. Stay sexy and please enjoy!]

(no one's pov)

"Fucking creatures.. fucking people, I said don't go back and what does she do? She goes back. Why won't people listen? Why?" Marie muttered to herself, angry but also saddened she failed those people. "..Rose... I'm coming for you.. I promise I won't ever let you out of my sight again.." Marie muttered as she went into the mine, wrapping her hand around a lever..and pulling as she stopped and realized it was too heavy for one hand as she had to wrap two of them, still nothing.

"....you're fucking- god damn it, how am I still alive?" She mutter as she was about to put all her weight in, as she jumped causing it to go down a bit as she groaned before she felt eyes on her.

(wow Marie is..Jesus Christ. Yeah let's hope he didn't see that, I mean Christ embarrassing)

(XD Yup)

"Well well look at you." She hears someone say and she jumps up.

She didn't know what to say, she just stared as he walked out of the shadows.

"I didn't think anyone was left, you must be pretty tough huh?" He asked tossing a cigarette to the ground as metal floated around him.

"Wh-Who are you?" She asked.

(Oh what's that? French? Forigen, exotic woman fetish xD jk

(No wait (SNIFFF SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF SNNNNNNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF) I smell the accent fetish in this man XD He love the french ladies~~~)

He paused then smiled. "Your not a local, Mother Miranda is going love you." He says and knocks her out.

She fell, nearly hitting the ground if he didn't stop her, using the metal to act as handcuffs as he carried her out to the meeting, placing her on the ground as others looked at her.

"Well now..what do we have here?" "Found her in the mines." "Oh my, Marie Winters I see..the question is..what do we do with her." Mother Miranda spoke, but she already had plans.

"Oh give her to me mother..my daughters and I so do love to entertain foreigners.." a woman spoke looking at the girl as a doll checked her out as she let out a groan.

"j'ai mal à la tête.." (my head hurts

He shudder at that.

“She’s awake!!!” The doll cheers

This creature hobbled its way over to her, dripping some mucus on her dress, but was quickly pushed aside. "She's awake she's awake~! And I saw under her skirt--" "both of you shut the fuck up!" The man said

“Silence!” Mother Miranda says. “Since Heisenberg captured her he will decide her fate.”

"wh-what's happening? qui est Heisenberg?" She asked scared, now realizing she had no way to shoot or stab anything handcuffed like this.(Who is Heisenberg?)

Heisenberg stood up and picked up Marie over his shoulder. “See you al later.” He says

"where are you going?" Lady Dimitrescu asked as .other Miranda even looked confused. She was expecting him to try and kill her as a show and then have Marie escape only to then run into more danger and somehow survive that..but he just walked out on them.

(Meanwhile.)

"Let me go! Why won't you when answer me?! What are you going to do to me?!" She asked some anger, but once again, the main emotion was something else, this time, fear

“Pipe down.” He says. “We are almost there.”

"where?!" She asked as he didn't answer as she saw..was it a junk yard? No..the building behind was far to big to be a junk yard. He walked in as she still tried to get out as he stopped only just realizing she was moving.

"If you're going to kill me then just kill me! Otherwise let me get my daughter!"

(Oh you know if she doesn't virgin and the mold changes her body to regenerate..then she may constantly be a virgin, in the sense of a hymen, but she's not a virgin in the true sense Because say it with me Hymens do not mean virgin. To me virginity is the first CONSENSUAL sexual penetration. )

(Amen! Even if the hymen tears it does not mean you had your first time! )

“I will let you do that. After I make you mine that is.” He says and carries her to a bedroom.

Well...it was a bedroom, it was the cleanest one...meaning it had been dusted in the last week and the sheets were washed..2 weeks ago.

"Wh-What the fuck does that mean?!" She snapped.

“I think you know dear.” He says

She looked confused before it sunk in when he placed her down, putting the hammer down, making sure she would see it, as a deterrent for running.

"W-Wait no no no no no, no that- I'm just here for my daughter." She said looking up at him scared.

(Heisenberg pov) (Yas Metal daddy

"God I am not going force you." I say sitting next to her and taking my work boots off. "I am going make you a deal and tell you what is going on."

She looked at me. "Y-Your not going force me?" She asks.

"Hell no!" I say. "I may be a shit man but I DO NOT Rape."

She seemed to relax a bit and I take off my hat and push back my hair.

(Okay can I be real for a minutes yeah Heisenberg is not the best guy and will kill someone in his way but I do not see him even as a yandere the type to rape or even force a kiss most of the time. Yeah if he looses his temper he may swat at you hard with his hammer but if it was someone he truly loved I think he would regret it terribly. So he is most likely going to manipulate Marie into sex but he will hold up his end of the deal.)

(Yup definitely, to him it's a show, but it's no fun if the other person isn't enjoying it. And yeah one hit from that hammer and broken ribs)

((Yeah he of course regret it but he still got his issues but he will be the one to nurse you back to health and I also see him the type to work on his anger issues like the next time he gets angry again he punches the wall instead and storms out taking it out on anything else but his darling. like he learned his lesson and now he is trying this guy is one of the better yanderes to have really)

"look, I've been stuck with that bitch Miranda for almost a damn Century. You have any idea how HUMILIATING and DEGRADING it is to be treated like a servant- but I knew, I knew something was up, I'll make you a deal...you act like..let's say a caretaker of this factory, and..in about let's say 1 month we'll see how we are doing. There's a ritual taking place, 6 months from now that involves Rose. You take care of this place..and I'll let you leave and even help you on the way. Deal?" She looked at me.

"O-Okay..."

“Just so you don’t run off we will sleep in the same bed. Don’t worry clothes on you under the covers me on top of them, pillows acting like the Berlin Wall.” I tell her and she nods.

I start to show her around and have one month for her to fall in love with me. Or I am fucked.

[guigz1-coldwar]

"Overlord: Cold War" : a new dark COD fic is out!

A fic inspired by the 2018 movie 'Overlord' with a part of the COD characters along with some OCs from the COD fandom.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

1984, in an alternate universe where Adler's kidnapping never occurred.

In the middle of the war against Perseus, the West secret services discover a strategic position used by Perseus in a village near the capital of Verdansk, Kastovia that needs to be destroyed to gain a big advantage against Perseus. Russell Adler, the man tasked to bring that objective is asking to Zasha Smirnov, once known as 'Bell' to come with him on the mission despite the differences and things that happened between them.

But no one knows is that everything could be a lie and what they could see in Verdansk...could change a lot of things...

To read it on AO3, click here!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

3rd June 1984

Zasha Smirnov once know as 'Bell', MI6

Century House, London, United Kingdom

Looking through the windows of my office and the weather was basically resuming my mood today: heavy rain and even thunder on the horizon. It was something that has been happening for days and to say, almost weeks but this weather was not only reflecting about how I was now but how I was for years. Staying up to look outside wasn't going to help me so I decided to get myself back on my chair to work but...that mood was staying inside of me.

The first thing I saw when I sat up was the wide opened file about Yiri, the accident that we had together two years ago, and...the investigations from the MI6 about its circumstances. It was officially closed a few days after that incident because of a lack of evidence but me, I kept it opened, impossible for me to get over it what happened that day, it went fast, still feeling to this day the pain inside my chest when the doctor told me, her words still echoing inside my head.

My eyes were looking across the file until they went on her picture, the only picture that the MI6 was having of her: dressed in a KGB uniform in the first years she entered it with behind a dark grey wall, keeping a normal face for the photo and next to the picture, there was something I never wanted to hear and see before but now, it was the main thing that I was seeing when that file was opened: [Status: Deceased] in red.

It was at this moment that I put my hands to cover my ears as her voice was coming to echoes inside my head, that voice that I have been hearing each week since she wasn't here with me anymore. A knot in my chest was forming each time and it was torture to me, more than the CIA did to me.

"Zasha, save me," The voice said to me, sounding sad and pleading as my hands were trying to cover my ears, my fingers roaming on the sides of my head. "Zasha, don't let me down," The voice asked for me, making me close my eyes, perceiving a little scene, seeing myself in front of the car she was in when the accident, and running to save her.

"Yiri, please stop," I pleaded to the voice to stop it, my voice breaking down, and my hands starting to move away from my ears to join them on my face. "Just stop it!" I ordered to her but she was insisting, keeping to say the same things over & over again.

"Zasha," It continued to despite my pleas, hearing it louder than the others demands she was saying as I was slowly starting to break down in tears, my tears going to assemble inside my eyes before crying down but then...

"Zasha!" I almost jump scared from my chair when I heard in front of me, someone slamming their hands on my desk to get my attention, making my hands go away from my eyes to see who was the one who did this, "Zasha, are you here?" This was Grigoriev herself, sounding worried at me and feeling sorry to have to do this to get me back like that on her face.

"Yeah, I'm here, I think," I replied to her in a low voice, closing Yirina's file on my desk and pulling it aside but Grigoriev's eyes were on it.

"Seeing that file again & again isn't going to help you, you know that?" She told me in a clear voice, removing her hands from my desk as I was trying to lean comfy in my chair. "You need to stop torturing yourself with it," She advised me but no, I couldn't follow it.

"I can't forget her, it's impossible," I explained, both hands passing on my face, wanting to clean up any tears that came out in the case of it.

"It's been 2 years now, just stop doing this, people are worried," She reminded me of it but it was like almost every week of my life that she tried to tell me that, and I, unable to actually comply with her demand. "I know that's hard but please, stop," She demanded.

"I'll try," I muttered, biting a part of my lips by looking at her who rolled her eyes around.

"You said that last week," She mumbled before crossing her arms to walk away from the desk in the direction of the door. "Zasha, I did also had things I needed to get over and it was hard, I know that you will move over but I don't know that it will really happen," She commented, having her hands posed on the door handle.

"I don't know, I'll try my best," I exclaimed to her before putting my arms on the chair armrests. "Were you coming in to make me stop think about it or something else?" I asked her curiously, thinking that the first option was the obvious one.

"There's someone who wants to talk with you," She responded, turning her head around to look at me. "Goes by Adler, a guy wearing sunglasses and an orange leather jacket said that he was from the CIA," She revealed to me as my eyes went wide at this.

She was basically telling me that Russell Adler himself was maybe behind that door, wanting to talk to me. It was for 3 years that I didn't talk with him, not long after I killed Perseus himself when the CIA pulled out to let the MI6 deal alone with the Nova-6 threat in London, and now, he was here. I thought that I forgot him and him too after what he did to me but no if it wasn't enough for him to give me a bad day.

"Do I let him in?" Grigoriev asked me, her hands on the handle and waiting for my answer.

"Yes," I simply answered like that, not even taking a second to think about if I really wanted to talk to him and she nodded at me, a small grin on her face before she opened the door of my office, leaving it.

"You can come in," I heard her voice through the door, talking to him and after a few seconds of waiting, he appeared at my sight, slightly opening the door, dressed up in the same clothes he wore when he was welcoming me in West-Berlin.

"Wow, didn't know that you got your own office," This...this was the first thing he said to me when he was inside the room after checking it up with his eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Seriously?" I mumbled at him, looking at him with a deadly glare. "It's been 3 years and the first thing you said is talking about my office?" I demanded at him, sounding very serious in my voice, my left hand clenching on the rest. "If it's only for that, you can get the fuck off my office," I told him, pointing at the door.

"Kid, I ain't here for that," He gestured to me that he didn't mean it with his hands. "I came here to talk about things," He explained, his right hand pointing at one of the chairs in front of my desk and I nodded, letting him sit on it.

"What sort of things?" I asked him, not really sure that it was a good idea to have him here in front of me.

"How've you been since the last time we talked?" He demanded at me, getting his hands on his lap.

"You're not aware? Not so fucking great!" I responded to him, mixed between getting myself angry, my brain wanted me to jump over that desk and punch his teeth at everything he has done to me in the past. "I'm even worse than when you put your hands on me," I stated.

"That bad?" He raised an eyebrow, looking confused.

"Oh yeah, that's right that you completely forget things that happened," I said, wanting to make him remember one of the big things that occurred. "When Lazar got killed in Westminster to stop my own brother to unleash Nova-6, you didn't come at all at his funeral!" I reminded of that, tapping my fingers on the desk, that thing having been marked by a lot of people. "Mason, Woods, Sims & even Hudson attend his funeral with Park, me & Portnova, and you, you didn't come," I added

"I'm sorry, Zasha," He sniffed, looking away from me, trying to figure out if it was about shame or denial. "I couldn't attend it, okay?" He defended himself.

"Sure you do, sure you do," I stuttered, putting the palms of my hands against the desk.

"And what about your wife, Portnova?" He questioned me about it as he saw a framed picture of me and her on my desk, one of the few remaining that I've got from her that was taken a few days before the accident.

"She's dead," I snorted, passing my right hand below my nose. "A drunk driver ran into the car she was in, I saved her and rushed her to the nearest hospital but it was too late," I continued as he was looking a bit disturbed and sad to learn about it, the first time that I saw him like that, to be honest.

"Shit...I...I'm sorry, kid," He apologized again to me, scratching the back of his head as for a few seconds, the only sound inside the office was the rain tapping against the windows. "Uhm...how's Park, by the way?"

"I don't know, it's been almost 2 months that she disappeared, no one having found her," I replied to him. Park was asked for a mission by the MI6 but she didn't come back from it and now, half of the MI6 was looking for her in the Soviet Union. "It said that she was tasked to establish contacts with the resistance in Kastovia," I added as the former Soviet republic was now in a civil war with the Perseus forces who took control of its capital.

"What I thought," He whispered to himself, making me look at him.

"What YOU thought?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Listen, I didn't come for only talking about things but also because I need your help for a mission," He revealed to me, moving his hand inside his jacket to take out something of it, discovering a little file with a name on it. "I know that things happened between us but I need you," He insisted, putting the file on my desk to look at it.

"Overlord?" I saw the name of the file, seemingly the name of something that the CIA was going to do.

"We managed to find the main communications center that Perseus is using in Verdansk to help its forces to talk between each other, it's hidden in a church of a village around Verdansk," Adler explained to me as I was checking the file closely. "If we destroy it, we can deal a big blow to Perseus," He added.

"And why do you need me?" I demanded.

"Look at the last page," He ordered, causing me to go at the last page of the file...to discover a picture of Park herself...wearing a Perseus uniform and talking to another Perseus member as she was looking followed by the CIA. "We might believe that Park has changed sides and is helping Perseus," He told me, knowing well that my eyes were on that disturbing picture.

"That's...that's impossible, it can't be true," I protested to him, putting the file back on the desk. "She hates Perseus, she can't be with them," I added.

"I know but it's been 2 months that no one saw her and seeing her in that uniform is making us fear the worst," He claimed, putting his right hand on his forehead. "That's why I need you in that mission: we either had to capture Park...or to terminate her along with the communications center," He continued before he got up from his seat. "I'm asking you to come with me despite the things that happened between us, you're the only person in the MI6 that can manage to save her,"

"I'm not the only one that can save her but...." I stopped myself, my hands crossing on top of the file of 'Operation Overlord', impossible to think that Park could have switched sides like that and that I wasn't the only one in here to save her. "Okay, I'm in,"

"I forgot to say that the detail about Park's can't be revealed to anyone, it's staying between you & me, strict orders from Hudson," He instructed, taking out of his jacket a little pack of cigarettes and taking one from it and putting it between his lips. "No one needs to learn about Park," He lighted up his cigarette as I got up from my seat to get in front of my desk.

"And why that? I know that it's strict orders but why?" I asked him, moving to lean against my desk

"Are you sure that you want to have everyone knows that one of the best MI6 agents is working with Perseus?" He asked me back, turning his head around to look at me as he put his lighter back in his pocket. "I know that Park isn't liking me but her reputation cannot be damaged, that's why that objective of finding her is only between you & me," He affirmed that to me, and for a first, he was like sounding right in his words, not lying as Park got a good reputation in here, telling it could harm her.

"Fine, I'll keep my mouth shut," I complied with him on it.

"Good, I'm asking you to take with you someone that you can trust in the MI6," He ordered to me as he starts to walk at the door of my office to leave it. "I'm waiting for you at the airport in one hour, we need to leave London to get to Turkey the next morning," He said to me before he put his hands on the door handle, me staying on my desk as my eyes were on the file he gave me, seeing that name...Overlord...

"I'll make sure that we're going to do it,"

------------------------------------------------

Yirina Grigoriev

I was silently crossing through some of my files on my desk, mostly talking about some MI6 operations against the Perseus Collective and enjoying a small cup of coffee in my hands when I heard the door of Zasha's office getting opened, seeing this Russell Adler coming out of their office, opening the door by himself as he was looking inside of it.

"I'll make sure that we're going to do it," The man said inside the office before he let his hands off the door handle, a cigarette between his lips, and then, starting to walk away from the room, not before actually exchanging a glare with me, looking rather suspicious and not the very nice guy type.

That man was very curious and strange as I remember how he presented himself to me and what he wanted to do and I was still having this impression when he turned his head around to look away back in front of him to leave the room as I moved my head to see Zasha coming out of the room and leaning against the door frame of his office, looking rather normal and trying to stay normal.

"Is...everything alright?" I asked them, putting my cup on the desk.

"Nope, not at all," They replied to me, showing to me in their hands, a file they were holding. "He wants me to come in Turkey to put myself back to the field," They revealed, moving away from the door to get next to my office, keeping the file in their hands. "The CIA is planning to destroy a Perseus communications center in Verdansk,"

"Right in the Kastovian Civil War? That's looking interesting," I proclaimed to that, my face looking now curious to know more.

"That's what I want to thought, he demanded that I bring someone with me," They said before they got their eyes on me. "Do you want to come with me?" They questioned me in a clear voice, and like that, I thought that it's been a long time that the MI6 didn't bring me to the field and that I was alone for weeks at my place.

"Yes, I...it's been some times that I'm alone, thinking that she will come back," I pointed out at one of the framed pictures on my desk, seeing her...Park. "Been 2 months that she disappeared like that as we got together like few weeks before she left," I added as she left me alone only after 2 months together.

"Maybe that you can try to get your thoughts away for the time been?" Zasha suggested to me, the first time that our roles were swapped, they as trying to make me change my mind. "As you said, people need to move on," They said, crossing their arms before looking away at the door that the man didn't close to leave the place. "I know that you got some run-ups with Perseus but are you willing to come with me to Verdansk?" They repeated to me, wanting to make sure that I was okay with actually joining them. "I'll tell you the main part of that if you come," They continued, now waiting for a response, and then, I got up from my seat, taking the jacket on my chair and offering my hand for a shaking...

"Count me in, Zasha!"

[wonder-womans-ex]

Curtain Call

Act one, scene one

Sirius finds him with his head in his hands, back against the brick wall of the information and technology building. He stops for a moment, wondering if he should go over there—ask what’s wrong, or offer assistance—then decides against it. 

He is Sirius Black, and Sirius Black does not help other people. 

Not anymore. 

So he continues on with his day. He walks past the crying boy into the theatre building, pausing by the bulletin board to pull a phone number slip from the bottom of a flyer that advertises free physics tutoring. It tears off at the area code. 

Great—just what this day needs. 

It gets significantly worse when he pushes through the stage door and bumps into Danya, who’s lurking behind the wings, black Abbey Road shirt blending in with the curtains. She smiles at him brightly. 

“Hi, Sirius,” she says. “I was just leaving. I could wait up, if you want—fancy getting lunch together?” 

There is exactly one good thing about Danya Lent, and that is the fact that she doesn’t giggle, or tuck her hair behind her ear, or look up at him through her eyelashes. She talks to him like he’s a regular person, not some sort of movie star. She’s not just attracted to his looks—she genuinely likes him. 

But Sirius just broke up with Remus. He’s not looking for a relationship. And Danya isn’t the kind of person he’d be interested in dating, anyway. She reminds him too much of James. 

“Sorry, Dan,” Sirius tells her, glancing towards where Professor Fischer is sitting at the piano centre stage. “I’ll probably be here for a while; I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

Make that two good things about her—she can take a hint. Danya just nods and grins. “All right. I’ll see you around, I guess!” 

And then she’s gone.

Sirius clears his throat before approaching the professor, startling the older man out of whatever trance he’s in. Fischer’s eyebrows shoot up comically when he sees Sirius, and he pats the spot next to him invitingly. 

Sirius steps forward, sliding onto the piano bench. He absentmindedly plucks a note—D#, he thinks, but it’s been years since he quit piano lessons—and waits. 

“I was quite impressed by your performance yesterday,” Fischer says, and Sirius’s heart sinks. Professor Fischer throws around words of praise like they’re buy-one-get-two-free, and ‘quite impressed’ does not fall high on the sliding scale of compliments. 

“Thank you, sir,” he says anyway, because he knows better than to say anything else. 

But apparently the professor isn’t done yet. “I had been wondering,” he begins, fingers dancing over the keys, yet never making a sound, “Whether you’d given any thought to that course I suggested.”

“What, the creative writing one?” Sirius’s voice, though he tries hard for it not to, gives away his surprise. He’d assumed that Fischer had been recommending the free creative writing seminar to everyone in his class, not him specifically. He’s never had a way with words—not ones that weren’t already scripted out for him, at least. 

“Yes, that one. It’s not like most of the courses we offer here—it’s led entirely by alumni of the university, and most of them are very good writers. I think it would be good for you.”

Now Sirius is intrigued. “In what way?”

“You’e an incredible actor, Mr. Black, but what you struggle with is finding the purpose behind the words.”

(Sirius thinks he has purpose down to a science, but he’s not about to say that to Professor Fischer.)

“Oh, sure, you know what the characters are feeling and why. You have a way with the people you play. But what you lack is the concept of an author.

“I’ve had an eye on you for a while, and what I’ve found is this: if Eloise is walking down the street, you know why she is walking down the street. But you do not know why the person writing the script made the conscious choice to have her walk down the street. You get so caught up in the fiction that you forget it is based in fact. Do you understand this?”

Professor Fischer’s accent gets more pronounced the more passionate he is, and right now he sounds as if he would be right at home on the streets of Berlin. Sirius nods slowly. 

“I think I get it,” he says. “I need to know what goes into the making of a story before I can make the story come alive.”

For this he gets a smile. “Four o’clock on Wednesdays in the Rogers lecture room. You’ll be there?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” 

***

And, sure enough, Wednesday afternoon finds Sirius standing in the middle of a hallway, wondering where the hell the Rogers lecture room is. He checks his watch—4 minutes to go. He’s glad he got there early, but at this rate, it won’t make much of a difference. 

He contemplates just leaving. He didn’t sign up for the class or anything (wait, was he supposed to?) and it’s not like there would be roll call or anything anyway. But he trusts Professor Fischer, and at least this seminar is something to do that isn’t scrolling through his old texts with Remus and crying. 

When someone bumps into him, he turns around. It’s a girl with shoulder-length auburn hair and a lip ring. Her eyes are green—piercingly so—and he opens his mouth and closes it again a few times trying to remember what he was going to say. 

At first, he thinks oh, fuck, we’re back to being flusted around pretty girls. Wonderful. But then he realizes that while she’s attractive, sure, from an objective point of view, he’s not really attracted to her. 

He’s actually a little bit scared of her. No, scratch that, very scared of her. Maybe it has something to do with the vicious glare she’s sending him. 

“Um,” he says, finally. “Sorry. Do you by any chance know where the Rogers lecture room is?”

She purses her lips and nods, striding past him further down the hall. After a moment, he follows her to the elevator and waits as she jabs aggressively at the up button. There’s a long, awkward silence while the elevator gets to their floor, broken only by the loud ding when it arrives. 

The ride up between floors is even more painful, if that’s possible. Sirius tries to occupy himself by looking at the ceiling, which is mirrored, so he looks at the wall instead. It’s patterned like a booth in some sort of high-class restaurant—greenish, with vaguely paisley-shaped blotches here and there. 

Finally, they arrive at a hallway identical to the one they came from. The walls are the same off-white; the floors have the same grey carpeting. If he didn’t know better, Sirius would say they hadn’t moved at all. 

The girl walks out, the soles of her pink high-tops squeaking until she’s out of the elevator and into the hall. She turns around. 

“Well, come on, then,” she tells him, voice not at all how he had expected. It’s the first time he’s heard her speak, and he’s surprised at the eastern accent. Nova Scotia, he guesses, or New Bruinswick. He nods wordlessly. 

He finds himself being led into a small lecture room—smaller than any he’s ever been in, anyway—with fifteen or so other students milling around, chatting and laughing. On the whiteboard at the front of the room, someone’s written Glendale A.L.L. Creative Writing Seminar. 

Looking left, then right, and finding that his red-haired saviour has vanished into the crowd, he sits down at the very back of the room. He has around thirty seconds of awkwardly waiting for something to happen before there’s a shout of “Sit down and shut up!” from somewhere near the front. 

When the smoke clears—or, if he abandons the metaphors, everyone else has chosen a seat and he can actually see who’s speaking—it turns out the person addressing the room is the same girl who led him there. She’s smiling, now, unlike when she was with him, and her hands are outstretched in front of her. 

“Hi, everyone! Welcome to the A.L.L., or Alumni-Led Lectures, creative writing seminar—free, because we know you’re university students and you therefore have no money.” This gets a ripple of laughter from the seated students, and her shoulders rise a little more. Sirius knows why; positive audience feedback does the same thing to him. “I’m Lily Evans, and I graduated from University of Glenrow last year with a bachelor’s in Engligh lit. I’m going to be your main instructor for the next few months. Here with me to help me out, because I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own, is my good friend John Lupin.”

A boy, tall and lanky, peels himself away from the wall and goes to stand beside her. She says something else, but Sirius doesn’t hear it, because his eyes are fixed on her companion and his ears are ringing. 

Whatever Lily says, that boy’s name isn’t John. 

It’s Remus. 

And he broke up with Sirius two weeks ago. 

[writingmyanxietyaway]

Doctor Love | Berlin

Requested by anon:  So okay okay, I had this idea a few days ago, and since your requests are open I'm gonna slide in real quick :)is it okay if I request a little scenario where like, u know when Berlino does that dumb thing of self sacrificing becuz he's gonna die anyway? What if his girlfriend/reader has been searching for a cure for his illness and before he can get himself killed she goes in the bank and tells him and somehow they manage to escape from the bank? No pressure if the idea doesn't appeal u! Ily!!

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: spoilers of season 2! maybe swearing, mentions of violence, guns, the whole shabang

Note: not my gif! Okay, so I’m in love with this request!! It took me a little longer to write, because I wanted to get it perfect. Let me just say I’m not a doctor, so I have no idea if there is a cure for the illness he has, but Imma try! Hope you like it darling! Thanks for the request and love you too! xx

------------

‘I’m sick. I have an illness called Helmer’s myopathy. It’s a muscle degenerative disease, which means that my muscles get weaker and weaker until my heart muscles can’t keep up anymore. If I’m lucky I have four months left,’ he told you like it was nothing; like it was answer to a question on a pubquiz. He held your hands in his, knowing it would break your heart and dreams of a future with him.

‘Andrés..’ you whispered, ‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ He sighed and gently shook his head.

‘It’s uncurable, princess. I have medicine that I have to take every few hours that make it somewhat acceptable, but I wanted you to know.’

You visibly broke down. Even though you were always someone who never wanted to show any emotion besides happiness and anger, but this was different shit. Your hands were shaking, body trembing as you tried to understand that everything you had imagined yourself doing with Andrés would be nothing more than a dream. It simply didn’t make sence. Being together with Andrés for more than six months, you’d hoped he would be more open towards you and share what was going on with him. You felt your throat closing up, eyes filling with tears.

This illness was just the cherry on top for him. The man had done terrible things in his life and could mark off just about any sin in the Bible. Stealing, robbing, charming women. Karma was getting her way back to him and all he could do was accept his fate. It came across as cold to you. All this time you planned this whole life for you two together, but he knew that would never come true.

‘No! This is cruel! You let me believe we would be together for the rest of our lives, hell, you told me you wanted to marry me when you got out! You knew even if you made it out alive, you wouldn’t live longer than summer. You’ve done some terrible things in your life Andrés, but this..’ you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. ‘This is just rude.’

The sadness you felt quickly turned into anger as you kept yelling at him, hitting him in the chest. He knew better than to interrupt you and tell you that everything would be okay, because he just now realized it wouldn’t be okay. He would die and leave you behind. Period.

‘I knew you were a self-centred bastard! You always play these mind games and somehow make everyone get on their knees for you! Is that all I am to you, huh?! Some game to find how far you can go? Because let me tell you Andrés, this game is finished. Game. Over,’ you hissed. You threw your hands up in the air and stormed out.

That was more than four weeks ago. In the meantime you had spoken again and this time the anger had disappeared and just cried. That was all you could do. You had accepted that you would most likely be a widdow before summer and that broke your heart, but you also wanted to fight. Andrés told you there was no cure to his illness, but there was hope burning inside you and you did everything in your power to still find that cure. Whether it meant getting no sleep for the next few weeks or not.

Andrés would soon be leaving for the big robbery and you had spent every second of the day being with him and holding him close. The times where you would have rough sex the entire day were over; it was now making love. He was gentle to you, making you breakfast in bed even though he could easily ask one of the maids to do it and even buying you nice dresses in colours that matched your eyes.

Without him knowing, you contacted one of your best friends who worked at the lab of a university and asked him if he could do more research on medicine for muscle-related illnesses. He said he had some information that he wanted to share with you, but that meant you had to visit him.

‘Babe, I’m gonna have to run to Macy really quickly. Think you’ll be okay?’ you asked. Macy was your sister and seven months pregnant, so it often happened that you visited her to help her with something. That way he wouldn’t suspect a thing. You had no idea how he did it, but he always seemed to know what you were up to.

‘Of course, princess. Give her a kiss for me, okay?’ he winked, giving you a kiss on the lips. You lightly slapped his chest.

‘Be back for dinner,’ you told him. Out of the blue, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you against him. He leaned down and you could feel his breath on your neck. Shivers send down your spine.

‘Your ass looks great in those jeans,’ he whispered, placing a light kiss on your neck and slapping you on the bottom. You giggled and pushed yourself away from him.

‘Bye!’ you called, waving him goodbye and walking out the door. You soon arrived at the university and was met by your friend who was waiting for you outside. You greeted each other with a hug and quickly got to work. He told you about the compositions of the different medications and what effect they had on what part of the muscle.

‘Isn’t there any way we could find a way to make this medicine last longer? This is the medication he uses now to keep it under control for a few hours,’ you gave him a syringe filled with the medicine and he studied it. He took the bottle from you and studied it contents.

‘There are some elements of this medicine that also appear in this,’ he pointed to a beaker filled with a milky white liquid. ‘I should be able to find a connection that makes this last longer.’

‘Is there anything I can do? I feel so hopeless not being able to do anything,’ you mumbled.

‘You did a great job already by giving me this. Is it okay if I keep the syringe? I need something that we know works, even if it isn’t permanent,’ he said. You nodded and waved your hand.

‘Of course. Anything to help find a cure. Thank you for doing this. I can’t even explain how much this means to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t at least tried,’ you told him. He turned to look at you and gave you a hug. 

‘That’s what I’m here for. If I find anything, I’ll let you know, okay?’

-

It was the fifth day of the heist. Andrés had been gone for almost three weeks now, being busy with training and all. He obviously knew about the plan already, but being the passionate man he is, wanted to go over every single detail again. He couldn’t afford making any mistakes. The goodbye was hard. You cried loudly as he held you close, whispering little reasuring words in your ear. You were thankful for Sergio. He kept you updated on everything that was going on, but didn’t tell you any details or steps of the plan. You didn’t want to either; it was scary enough without knowing how everything went down in there.

It was now wednesday and you were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t heard from Sergio in two days and it started to worry you. The news wasn’t exactly uplifting too. Andrés’ face was displayed all over every tv channel, name heard on every radio station and seen on every wall in Spain. Your heart fell even lower when the news announced he was sick. The smug inspector worked on you nerves as she spoke about him like he was an animal. Sure, the man had done things that broke the law, but he never killed anyone nor hurt any woman.

‘Fuck,’ you cursed under your breath. Suddenly your phone rang and the called ID showed Alex, your friend at the lab. Your heartbeat increased and you were anxious about what he was about to say. You picked up the phone and heard his loud voice. A tearful smile made it’s way on your face as you heard him say those three words you so desperately longed to hear.

‘I have it! I have the cure!’ he yelled. You jumped up and raced towards the university where he was already waiting on you. The hug you shared was one filled with hapiness.

‘Okay, he needs to inject this like he did with the other medicine. This is enough to last until november. I have some of it still in the lab so I produce more and work more on the duration of it. I can’t promise it will work for the rest of his life, but for now it’ll do,’ he spoke. You said goodbye and rushed to Sergio’s hide-out. The medicine you held in your hands would give him at least eight more months and until then Alex had a better cure. You burst through the doors and Sergio jumped up. You could see the whole that had been dug in the floor. You turned to Sergio and burst into tears of joy.

‘He’s not leaving us, Sergio. He’s staying. With you, with me. He’s staying,’ you rushed. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and the rush of adrenaline was so high, you thought you’d pass out. Your words seemed to land as he slowly moved towards you. His gaze fell on the little box you were holding and his eyes flickered from the black object to the hole in the floor and tears welled in his eyes.

‘I have to get it to him, Sergio. He needs to know there is something out here for him. You and I both you the man is up to something. Let me go in there, please!’ you pleaded. He quickly snapped out his trance and gave you a red suit and black boots to finish the look.

‘When you get to the indside, wait inside the vault. No one knows you’re getting in and that way you won’t get attacked. Take this with you,’ he pushed a fake gun in your hands and you placed it in the holster on your thigh. ‘Goodluck.’

When you were about to enter, you heard a lot of noise coming from the computer. The police had broken in. He nodded to you and you ran as quickly as you could through the tunnel. When you entered the vault, you were met by two people. A young man with dark hair and a woman with blonde curls. They looked suprised to see you and the man pointed a gun at you.

‘Serg- El Professor send me. I’m Berlin’s girl,’ you quickly said, stumbling over your words. Sure, you were carrying a gun with you, but it was a fake. Having a real gun pointed at you made you nearly shit your pants. When the girl pointed out I was carrying a gun and came through the only way out, he lowered the gun and craweled through the tunnel. It wasn’t hard to find Berlin as he came running in the direction of where you were coming from. You caught the stares of the other people who nodded at you and went on with their duties.

‘Berlin, babe!’ you called, making him freeze.

‘What are you doing here, princess? It’s not safe for you. They’ll come running through those halls any minute now,’ he sternly said, turning around and grabbing you firmly by the arm. ‘Leave, now!’

‘No, I’m not leaving. I came here to tell you I found a cure,’ you breathed and everyone around you froze. ‘You didn’t know, but I’ve been doing research for a medicine and I’ve found it. The first dose should work ‘till November. After that I’ll have a much stronger and longer working dose.’

‘Princess, I told you to leave,’ he said more firmly this time. You didn’t move.

‘Like I said, I’m not leaving. Not without you anyway. You promised me a life that I could only dream of and now we can have it. I love you with all my heart. I can’t loose you. Not now, not ever.’ Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged the man you loved so much to trust you and come with you.

‘Leave, now. Helsinki, take her with you,’ he ordered the bulky man behind you, but he didn’t move.

‘Love is a passionate thing, Berlin. I don’t know this woman, but she found a cure for your uncurable disease. That’s literally doing the impossible. You have five seconds to decide to leave with this woman or I’ll take you with me. Don’t look away when you have everything in front of you,’ he spoke. He turned his attention to you and you gave him a grateful smile. He smiled back and nodded.

‘Will you please come with me? If you don’t come with me, I’ll stay with you. I either die with you or leave with you, you decide,’ you stated. He looked at the box you held in your hand and realized how much he loved you. Moving towards you, he passionately smashed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t filled with lust, but relief and gratefulness.

‘As soon as we walk out those doors, I’m marrying you. No exceptions,’ he mumbled against your lips. You nodded and held him closer.

‘That was the plan.’

You heard the policemen run behind you and Helsinki was quick to throw a grenade. Berlin pushed you all inside and bowed your head in his chest. Once the grenade had exploded, you all rushed back and blew up the tunnel. You joined Sergio and Helsinki in the back of the truck, leaning against Andrés.

‘There are no words to explain how much I love you, princess. No words.’

The two of you left to Cuba, where you got married soon after you arrived. The wedding was on the beach, your white dress flowing around you while you stared at the man you could finally call your husband. Only a month after the wedding you surprised Andrés by telling you were pregnant.

‘You are my heart, my soul and my everything. Thank you for being my wife and everything I’ve ever wished for.’

.. .. .. .. .. 

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk​ - @michaellangdonenthusiast​ - @hamiltonsofcrap​

[xbustian]

                CHARACTER PARALLELS    

    Crowley  (  Good Omens   )   ,    Kaz  Brekker   (   Six  of  Crows   )   ,   Faith  Lehane  (  Buffy   )   ,    Roy  Kent  (  Ted Lasso  )    ,   Thomas  Shelby  (   Peaky Blinders   )   ,    Berlin   (   Money Heist  )   ,    Annalise  Keating   (   HTGAWM   )

TIDBITS:

Age   :   20   (  Jan 13   )    

Born    :   Limerick

Father   :   TBD

Mother   :    Azra

Step--Mother    :    TBD

Half-Brother   :   Rodolphus 

SECOND-PERSON HISTORY BITS:

You were born into royalty           the bastard son of a whore, but a Lestrange prince nonetheless, second only to your older half-brother, Rodolphus. Despite the dimpled smile and chubby cheeks, you were nothing but a spare. A safety net. A necessary mistake as your birth mother was sent away with a dark threat lingering over her. Should anyone ask: you were the product of a perfect marriage. You would call the woman who despised you, despised what you reminded her of, MOTHER. 

Despite the circumstances, your father looked upon you with proud features. His chest stuck out and he held his head high as he appraised his two sons like a diamond he would consider buying. But when you burrowed deep within the sheets of your bed, or played those childish games with whatever nanny your mother hired that week, your father was busy appraising other avenues. You didn’t realize this when you were younger, but your father controlled an impressive legacy. He was the captain of a rich and beautiful figurative ship, compared only to the Flying Dutchman. 

He produced fear like a billionaire entrepreneur.

It took a long time for you to realize what exactly your role in the family was. The cavalry, they called you. The warrior who would ride in and save whoever was lost or in danger. You see, as you grew older, and your temper began to surface, your proud parents no longer viewed you as a simple back-up plan. No, you were so much more than that. You were to act as a confidant to your brother          an easy enough task, you thought ignorantly, seeing as you had already taken up the mantle. But the cavalry was a heavy crown to rest upon your head, and you began to feel the weight the more your parents discussed your future. Because even at eleven,  or  thirteen,  or  fifteen,  you could see their definition of  cavalry  change. It adapted the more they viewed your growth. You were too smart, too tough to be thrown in the background. You were made to stand up front with the rest.

You began to feel separated from yourself. People would discuss you, in front of you, and you would think they were bragging about some stranger you never met. You even found yourself thinking, God, this bastard sounds like a total fucking tool. Though you couldn’t exactly blame them. It was your fault, too. Your mind was too curious, too far reaching to listen and merely agree. You read Machiavelli’s The Prince and found power to be something earned rather than inherited.  Were you truly a Lestrange man if you sat back and let royalty wash over you? Or were you nothing but a figurehead without the brains to control them?

While most settled for flattery when it came to life, you settled for fear, because it was always safer than love. To care about someone was to owe them something in return, and you refused to owe anyone. Not your father, not your mother, and certainly not your brother (or so you liked to think). You were a machine: alone and angry, pulling at strings to unravel whatever bullshit people would throw your way. You acted like a proletariat sometimes, wishing your life wasn’t so luxurious and stiff. You wished your parents weren’t so perfect because then you would have a reason to slouch. It was all incredibly moronic. The crown was getting much too heavy and soon, you were drowning.

But then she gave you air to breathe. Harper Macmillan: the exception to every one of your rules. 

You never told her this, but the first time you noticed her was when you were fourteen years old. Sure, you watched her as she was placed in Hufflepuff, mentally noting how cute you thought she was - but it wasn’t until three months into your Charms lesson that she truly embedded herself within the recesses of your mind. Finally succeeding with her charm, she let out a contagious laugh and you couldn’t help but compare the shine of her smile to the stars above.

Harper was as tantalizing as she was beautiful, and you despised the way her surname left a bitter taste in your mouth. The Macmillan family were blood traitors and you could remember every shallow and disgusting thing your parents and their friends have said about them. They are trash, and we would rather them lay dead on the floor than have them so much as look our way, his parents snapped.  

So you were fourteen and you ignored her. You were fifteen and you ignored her. You were sixteen and you ignored her. You were seventeen and your palms began to bleed because Thomas Peak, the stupid mudblood, asked her out. You clenched your fists so hard you barely noticed the way your fingernails dug into your skin. You couldn’t remember feeling so angry. So murderous. 

Your jealousy continued to brew as you noticed how she and her blood traitor friends rarely ever parted. How come she could associate herself with someone so low, and you couldn’t? You complain to yourself, but you know, deep down, that you are held to a much higher standard. But still, the curiosity got the better of you, and when you were seventeen you approached her friend with a question about class, subtly looking over at Harper before saying hello. You pretended not to care. You pretended to acknowledge her with such little interest that you might as well have been speaking to a wall. And when she said hi back? You shrugged. Uncaring. But your heart practically ripped itself out of your chest right then and there, forcing you to rush off the moment her friend finished her answer.

One word. Just one fucking word. Harper Macmillan uttered one word to you and you were convinced she belonged to you. Like a possession. Like the gems your mother would polish, or the money your father would practically swim in. She was yours. Eventually you could look at nothing else, your eyes always washing over her lithe form whenever she walked into a room. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you felt no desire to torture yourself by staying away. People swarmed you, treated you like a god, and yet you kept looking only at her. 

And one day  …   she looked back.

No one knew of your relationship - or so you told yourself. You were smart enough to know when to be careful, smart enough to never mention her name. And sure, your anger got the better of you from time to time, resulting in a bloodied mess of any stupid fool who thought it smart to flirt with your girl - the same girl who appeared single to anyone curious enough to look. 

It was your own fault, and you bloody knew it too.

Feeling this way was changing you and you didn’t like it. You felt more open to discussion, often keeping an eye out for Rodolphus simply to ask how he was doing. While a part of you always cared, despite your objections to the matter, you were never so open about it - once having been caught like a deer in headlights when claiming you were proud. A simple scoff and chuckle later and the matter was resolved. You were joking, of course. But you knew, deep down, if you didn’t get control of the matter, you wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer. Over the years, the blonde was slowly erasing what your parents so forcefully cast upon you: your inability to be a human fucking being.

To make matters worse, or better depending on who you asked, you have been secretly in contact with your birth mother. Having given up on ever knowing her, it was a surprise when an owl flew your way, dropping off a letter from the woman you thought was long gone. She never forgot about you - and unlike your other family members, she took a keen interest in your interests. She wanted to know everything about you. Naturally you kept out a lot, inwardly terrified she would be as disgusted with you as you were of yourself. But just like Harper, she was your connection to something safer. Something happier. And the greedy bastard in you won’t let her go. 

Your family can never know. 

PERSONALITY

The man is infamous and rightly so. But despite his reputation, Rab has been known to isolate himself more often than not. Reasonably eschewing human interaction, he uses this time to reflect on himself, his body and its warnings. This is called interoception, and Rab requires this level of perception in order to control his anger and shift it into something more positive. Helpful. With this understanding he is able to exercise full consciousness, therefore limiting the times he allows his temper to roam free.  Furthering this point, this helps guide him when understanding others emotionally. When he is able to better understand his enemies, he is able to view their hopes and aspirations. To know them is to know how to defeat them. 

He is constantly at odds with himself. He prides control over mostly everything and yet he struggles with intense anger issues. He becomes malicious and vindictive, almost blind to the world around him. When Rab sees red, no consequences exist. This is, once again, why he tries his best to remain isolated - until his services are needed, of course. Then he wears a twisted smirk and dances along the line that separates sanity and insanity. Switching back and forth is tiring, and he often disappears for long periods of time following an intense change. People are unaware of where he goes, and they don’t try to find him. 

Even the most feared of students know to give him his space. 

While this may be difficult to see, Rabastan is a family man. Despite the endless deception and bullshit, he continues to side with his immediate relatives. They are his connection to ethos. His reminder that he is human and worthy of being loved. This can be seen as his ultimate weakness. For instance, his father threatened his mother and blackmailed her, and yet he still stands beside his father and shows a form of loyalty that could not be matched. He would die for his family - something they would be all too quick to accept. His devotion to the Lestrange family has nothing to do with their legacy or their name, but rather their blood relations. He has made the mistake of trusting them time and time again only to be disappointed in the end. 

Rab expects disappointment and therefore always has a back-up plan. He can bounce back to an almost pathological degree, wiping figurative (or sometimes literal) blood from his face with nonchalance painted across his features.  He uses his disappointments as a way to empower himself. His limits are constantly being challenged and he has repeatedly come out on top, showing a tenacity that is difficult, if not impossible to duplicate. 

[the-creative-lie]

Caffeine

pairings: loki x reader

genre/warnings: fluff. basically mother hen!loki

word count: 1.4k

summary: reader is a mess of a human who survives on coffee and spite and loki is not having it

notes: based on an ao3 request. if you guys want a part 2 let me know!

You’ve been typing this report for what seems like forever and you still can’t get it right. In all fairness, this is not meant to be your strong suit. You know how to kick butt. You know how to cause a scene. You don’t know how to change the stupid font size on this goddamn thing. Suddenly, the whole screen goes black. Then white. “What the fuck?” you whisper to yourself. You frown. “How-” You start to hit every single key, as if that’s going to do anything. “C’MON YOU PIECE OF SHIT. WORK.” “You know that’s only making it worse, right?” Loki shows up next to you. Or maybe he was already there. How long has he been there? You look at your surroundings and realize that the lights are pretty much out, and that everyone seems to have gone to bed.

“Well excuse me if I don’t take computer advice from a three hundred year old alien god from space,” you huff. “What time is it?”

He takes the computer from your hands and puts it down on the coffee table. “Darling, it’s two am.” Your eyes widen.“Ah, fuck. I didn’t- what-” “Have you eaten anything?” he asks, annoyed. He always has that face around him. You tend to test his patience. He wants to take care of you, so he doesn’t understand why you don’t want to take care of yourself. “I… huh…” you ramble, still confused and trying to connect all the dots of how exactly you let  four hours just pass you by without noticing. “Coffee.” “That’s not an answer,” he frowns. “It’s also not food. Let’s go, I’ll make you something.” You run your hand through your face, frustrated, and start padding towards the kitchen after him. You go to make yourself another cup of coffee, but Loki just snatches the mug off your hand with a scowl and puts it back on the cupboard. He goes to open the fridge and you could swear you hear him angrily muttering at himself. “You can’t keep extending yourself like this, you know?” he says quietly. He takes out a few eggs and some other stuff from the fridge and starts to whip up some scrambled eggs and toast. You stare at the whole process, a little bit confused, trying to figure out how Loki, of all people, even knows how to make scrambled eggs. “I was just finishing that stupid mission report. It’s not that big of a deal,” you justify, taking a seat on one of Tony’s fancy high stools and laying your elbows on the bar table the team usually has breakfast on. “Today is the mission report. The other night it was gun practice, and then cutting up newspapers to make that frankly creepy murder collage on your bedroom wall.”  He sets the steaming plate in front of you, along with a fork, a napkin and a bottle of water. You practically inhale it all, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. “That’s for a case and you know it! I’m investigating!” you complain, through a mouth full of toast. He stares at you, a mix of disgust and concern in his features. You know exactly what he’s thinking, because he always looks at you like this. How have you managed to stay alive all these years, you idiot?   “It’s weird and pointless and you know it.” He takes a seat beside you. “You haven’t had a proper lead in months. The other day you taped an ad for a birthday clown on it.” “Because he could be disguising as a clown!” “To kill a high ranking CIA agent? In Berlin?” You stare at your empty plate. Well, when he puts it like that… “I think I need to sleep”, you relent. He smiles, smug. “Shut up.” He puts away the dirty dishes and walks you to your room, a steady hand on your lower back. When you get there, you change into your pajamas while he clears your bed of papers, notebooks and pens you have scattered around and sets them on your even messier desk. He lets out a sigh. “Hey, now. Don’t judge. This is how my brain processes things”, you say, coming out of the bathroom. “I don’t say anything when you fold your socks.” “What’s wrong with folding socks?” he exclaims, offended, hands in the air. “It’s weird. Not to mention unnecessary. Who’s gonna notice if you have wrinkles in your socks? Socks don’t work like that”, you argue, getting under the covers as he turns off the lights. “It’s not about the wrinkles, it’s so I don’t lose the pairs.” You can see his scowl even in the darkness, or at least imagine it to perfection. “Then just put them together, like in a ball.” “That ruins the elastic.” You roll your eyes. “That ruins the elastic”, you repeat mockingly in a silly voice. “You’re annoying. Go to sleep.” He kisses your forehead and heads for the door. You call out to him before he can go, “Hey, Loki? Thanks. For taking care of me.” “Of course, kitten. There’s nothing I would rather do”, he replies softly, and closes the door behind him. Loki stands in the hallway for a moment, resting his forehead on your door and mentally cursing himself. There’s nothing I would rather do? What the hell was that? Normally he couldn’t care less about the life of the mortals his brother calls friends. But when it comes to you he’s like a lovesick puppy, and as much as he tries he can’t hide it. Not to mention you don’t make it any easier by not taking proper care of yourself and working yourself to the point of exhaustion. He hears a small chuckle coming from behind, and he turns around to see his brother standing on his own doorframe, amusement in his eyes. Of course, his room is right in front of yours. He forgot. He stands frozen for a moment before composing himself and just like that, he returns to his cold posture. “What are you doing there? It’s the middle of the night”, he snaps. Thor just laughs. “I could ask you the same thing, brother. What brings you to Y/N’s door?” Then he justs stares at him, waiting for an answer. “That’s none of your business, you big oaf.” “I never took you for a caring one, Loki. Are you finally taking a liking to Midgard? Or maybe to one specific Midgardian? ” He crosses his arms and lifts his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you´re talking about”, Loki replies, mirroring his stance. “If I didn’t know you any better, I would think you’re in love, brother”, teases Thor, with a smirk. “Me? In love? With a Midgardian? That’s foolish. You’re…you’re a fool. Nothing but a simple, daft fool.” Loki rolls his eyes and scoffs. Not his best work, but he’s nervous. “You might be the God of Lies, Loki, but not even you can cover this up. I think it’s a good thing. Y/N is already a good influence on you.” “Yeah, well. You’re wrong. And a fool.” “You’ve already said that.” “I was just making myself clear, so your underdeveloped brain could understand me.” “Yeah, sure. I’m going back to bed. Good luck with huh, not being in love, Loki.” “Shut up.” He sighs, exasperated, resting his back on your door. With his head on his hands, he lets out a frustrated sound. One door closes and another one opens, right? That’s exactly what happens, because as soon as Thor goes back into his room, you open your door, sending Loki directly to the floor. “Are you in love with me?” You ask, matter-of-factly, staring at him from above. He panics. “I… huh. No. Well. Kind of. Not really. Why?” he then closes his eyes, defeated. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah. You heard that?” “Yup. Listen, I’m in love with you too and all that, but I’m also really tired and I think the fact that I haven’t slept is really starting to hit me because I’m having a hard time just standing here. So, huh. Just come to bed and we can discuss this in the morning, you doofus.” And just like that you go back to sleep, leaving him on the ground with his heart pounding on his chest, unsure of what exactly happened. He hears a loud laugh coming from Thor’s room and that sends him back to his senses. “Shut up!”

[enkelimagnus]

Hardwood

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2393 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 5 Truth

Bucky decides to make his Brooklyn house a little more of a home for him, to his taste. A worried neighbor comes a-knocking.

TW: mention of murder of children (brief)

Read on AO3

Part 35 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

Three days after he comes home from Delacroix, Bucky grabs a frayed edge of carpet from his bedroom floor and pulls. It comes off with a loud tearing sound, but he just keeps pulling, effortlessly baring the hardwood underneath.

He doesn’t really know why he does it. He just sees the edge and pulls and he’s halfway down the room when he realizes the furniture is definitely on the way, and if he wants to do this, he’s going to have to plan it out. You don’t just redecorate this easily.

At least as far as he knows.

He’s never done this before. His parents’ home had stayed the same through his entire life, as far as he knew. Furniture was moved once a year before Passover, when they cleaned the place from top to bottom. And after that, he’d been through many safehouses, but his handlers had never had sudden desires to redecorate.

He doesn’t really know where to start. He knows he can’t remove the entire carpeting without taking out the furniture of the bedroom. He knows the color of the walls is horrible and he wants to change that. He knows that, by himself, it’s going to be an ordeal. But he doesn’t really know who to ask for help.

Miriam is way too old, he doesn’t have that good of a relationship with Charlie, and there is no way in hell he’s letting any of his coworkers remotely close to his personal life. So he’s going to do it by himself. One room by one room, probably.

Still, he uses his left arm to pull the bed off of the ground and the other one to pull the carpeting off from under it.

He guesses being a supersoldier has some advantages in this sort of situation.

It doesn’t take long for the entire hardwood floor of the bedroom to be bare, for the loud ripping noises that came with his hard, powerful pulls. The carpet won’t be usable anymore but he doesn’t care. He’ll throw it in the trash anyway.

Nothing Hydra touched should be given to someone else. It all deserves to burn.

He’s tired of this house feeling so much like a safehouse. He wants to change things, he wants it to be his house, not Hydra’s, on more levels than just legal. He wants to truly live here. It’s his, and he can do whatever he wants with it. He could have it bulldozed if he felt like it, but he doesn’t. He wants a home.

He’s halfway through ripping off the first guest room’s carpet when the doorbell rings.

It startles him. No one ever rings his doorbell. No one comes to see him. He’s lived there for a couple months now, and not once has that bell rang. He forgets for a brief instant that he’s holding the entire bed up with one hand.

Somehow, he manages to catch the heavy bed frame before it crashes into the floor and damages it.

Despite the surprise someone is ringing, Bucky takes the time to pull on his gloves. He’s already wearing a long-sleeved tshirt, and with the gloves on, no one can see the arm. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be fully comfortable in the open, in the daylight, with the arm out, even if it isn’t Hydra’s anymore.

He should probably get used to people knowing who he is. Anonymity isn’t something he’s allowed. Not after Berlin, not after the war with Thanos, not after Riga. Before all of that, no one would have recognized him. Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s right hand, was supposed to be long dead. The only Howling Commando to lose his life in the service of his country.

Now, if no one sees the arm, he can still pass for just another white man with a vague resemblance to someone that was one tv a couple of times. That’s all he can really have.

There’s no use in raging against it. The past couple of decades of the rise of social media has made it impossible for him to be erased. Zemo knew what he was doing in Vienna.

The person behind the door is breathing steadily. They don’t seem to be filled with adrenaline, not with that relatively calm heartbeat. There is no telltale sign of aggression or preparation for violence. Bucky swallows, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Behind the wooden panel is his neighbor. They’re tall, relatively thin, with hair so short it’s more like a five o’clock shadow spreading over their skull. They smile at him. Bucky stares. He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen his neighbor in the daylight.

“Hi there, I’m your neighbor,” they say, pointing towards their door, as if Bucky hasn’t recognized the one person that knows when he goes running from his nightmares. “I heard some strange noise, everything’s okay?”

Bucky keeps staring for a moment. He didn’t think the ripping of the carpeting would be loud enough to attract attention. But he was wrong. He didn’t imagine it would sound stranger than his occasional nightly shouts of terror or pain.

He quickly gets back to reality as the neighbor in front of him stares back with a smile.

“Hi,” he ends up saying. “Hm, I was… I was pulling the carpeting off of my bedroom floor. Nothing to worry about.”

It’s strange, having neighbors that seem to care whether you’re dying a strange horribly, ripping death. Or maybe they’re worried he’s killing someone, or doing some other horrible thing he would have done as the Winter Soldier.

Either way, this person’s presence in front of him right now is peculiar. It makes him think of Mrs Naumescu, his parents’ left neighbor, who would come knocking whenever she heard something that worried her.

There had been a couple of nights where Bucky had snuck back in, sometimes with Steve, sometimes after dropping Steve off at his own place, where she had heard him come in and come knocking to warn his parents of an intruder, or scare away said intruder. She’d had a baseball bat in her hand - her son’s.

Hopefully this neighbor won’t be as worried for his safety.

“Do you need help?” they ask, and Bucky stares at them again, bewildered. He wasn’t expecting to be asked such a thing. He wasn’t expecting anyone to want to help.

“I’m pretty strong…” He starts, and then stops.

He can do it alone. But he could also take the offered help, for once. There’s an outstretched hand. What horrible thing can they do to him that hasn’t already been done? He knows better than to dismiss them as just a neighbor - after all, he knows plenty of very common and innocent-looking spies. But what harm can actually be done to him?

“You know anything about hardwood floors?”

For the rest of the morning, Bucky keeps the gloves on. There are only a couple of instances of him displaying strength that is just on the edge of unusual, but they don’t comment on it. They do exchange names and - to Bucky’s surprise - pronouns.

The neighbor’s name is Olly and they use they/them pronouns. To his own shame, he has to be given an explanation on what that means. He’s so deeply out of touch with that part of the world. A part of the world that he supposedly belongs in, according to today’s definitions. Because Steve was a man, and even if he’s the only man Bucky ever willingly wanted, it still counts.

It should have been a fluke, a one-off. It shouldn’t have counted if it was only Steve. But it does, supposedly. Bucky doesn’t know much about that.

They work fast, get the carpeting out of the two other guest rooms as well as the corridor. Turns out, Olly knows how to take care of hardwood floors. They know a lot of stuff about remodeling and house work. They end up establishing together a list of items needed to properly finish the job, and do what Bucky actually wants for his home.

Bucky makes them sandwiches for lunch, with pastrami, mustard and pickles. It’s a cliché perhaps, but it’s delicious. There are a couple of beers in his fridge.

“You’re good at all of this,” Bucky says, swallowing a mouthful of pastrami. It’s a little too dry. He misses the butcher he went to as a kid. His pastrami was amazing. He hasn’t been able to find one that compares with his memories yet. “Is it what you do for a living? House renovation?"

They chuckle, shaking their head. "Oh wow, no, not at all. I’m a social worker,” they explain. Social worker. Bucky remembers those people growing up. They were trying to fix problems, especially with the crash. “When my partner, our friends and I renovated the house,” they continue, pointing towards the wall between their two houses. “We learned a few things. What do you do?"

It takes a moment for Bucky to figure out actually how to phrase it. "Military contractor."

That’s the closest he can think. He’s contracted by the military, somewhat. They did make him sign a contract, to regulate what had already been outlined by his pardon agreement.

"Like an engineer?"

Of course they’re polite and curious. Bucky would be as well. He could just come out and say it. I’m the Winter Soldier and one of the reasons I walk free is that I work to clean up Hydra’s messes. He doesn’t know how public the conditions of his pardon are.

Once again, he struggles to explain what it is he does without saying it out right.

“I guess I provide intelligence? And experience."

Phrased that way, it sounds nice. That’s what he does though, it’s not a lie. It feels… almost pleasant to be able to say it that way. He provides information on how Hydra works, experience on how the safehouses are set up… A fist too. When they break into a safehouse, he’s always first. He’s hard to kill, after all.

And maybe… just maybe, some of his higher-ups wouldn’t mind if he died on a mission. They’d tell the place he went out trying to fix what he’d done.

Sometimes, that phrasing ‘fixing what he’d done’ chokes him up. It’s the way Lieutenant General Henricksen talks about the work he makes him do. Henricksen believes it was his fault. Of course he does.

It makes sense. People have no idea what it is like to be brainwashed. They have seen movies and video games and read books about it. They have no idea what it is actually like. They have no idea how it feels.

He remembers all of it, and he remembers pulling the trigger. Sometimes because he was directly ordered to by a handler - something that was impossible for him to resist doing. Sometimes because it was what was required to complete the mission - like with the son and daughter of the Algerian FLN commander that were sleeping in their beds.

He could have disobeyed all the orders in the second category. He never did. Not until Steve.

He must have zoned out thinking about the horrible things he’s done, because Olly clears their throat.

“And if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get this house? It’s been empty for years, we always wondered what was going on with it.”

That’s, again, a really hard question to answer without saying the truth. Bucky’s not even supposed to tell the truth about his work. That’s not his job. He doesn’t work on communication.

“Inheritance?” It comes out more like a question than anything else.

So much about his life is… unexplainable. It’s like all he has to share with the world is a heavily redacted file.

Most of it is of his own doing, he realizes. He’s the one who doesn’t want people to know exactly who he is, what he’s done. The only things he is actually forbidden to talk about are the specifics of his high-profile, governmental kills, as well as his ongoing missions with the army. The rest…

He could just say that this is an ex-Hydra safehouse and he got it through work. He could just say he’s working with the army to break into Hydra properties and recover what they took from the government while they were hiding behind the SHIELD insignia.

There would be questions, of course. What of the non-governmental resources they took? That goes to various archive buildings all over the U.S., to be tagged, processed and gather dust until their rightful owners pipe up. There are a lot of items waiting for people who don’t know they’re missing something.

Olly seems to accept Bucky’s cryptic and hesitant answer. Thank G-d. Bucky doesn’t know what he would have said if they kept prying. He guesses it’s selfish. He knows he can’t finish the job by himself, and telling Olly the truth would surely make them run out of the house.

They finish lunch and Bucky makes a pot of coffee. It’s when he turns back to face Olly that his eyes catch the picture he framed on the wall when he got there.

The picture of Steve and him on the front lines, in Europe. The postcard from the Smithsonian. Both of their faces, smiling wide. As far as Bucky knows, there aren’t any images of Steve smiling that way, wide and open and carefree even in the middle of the war, from after he was unfrozen in 2012.

Perhaps because he just didn’t have time to smile like this anymore. Perhaps because this was his Bucky smile. The smile Bucky knew he only smiled for him, and because of him. The best, most beautiful smile in the world.

In any case, there is no way Olly didn’t see the picture. There is no way they don’t know who he is now, even without seeing the arm. They haven’t said anything.

Bucky reaches over and pulls his right glove off, revealing skin. It takes all the strength in his mind and body to take off the other one, revealing vibranium.

He usually never takes the gloves off in front of someone when he isn’t playing soldier. But he is in his home. He shouldn’t have to hide himself here.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Two Live Crew Job

leverage 2.07

Sophie: I love the symbolists.

- - - - -

🥰 I love when the ot3 are together in one frame 🥰

- - - - -

the dogs playing poker painting tho

- - - - -

Eliot: Any sudden movement's gonna cause displacement of the water. It'll set it off.

Parker: Is that C-4?

Sophie: Oh!

(Nate grabs Parker’s hand before she can touch the vase)

Sophie: Parker... please don't poke at the motion-sensitive bomb.

Nate: So, uh... secret admirer?

Sophie: Well, it's no secret they want me dead.

Hardison: What do you think, man?

Eliot: I'd have to reach into the vase to disarm it. It'd go off.

eliot’s lips quivered when he said that bc he’s so nervous for her im-

- - - - -

Parker: Do you have any instant pudding?

(everyone looks at Parker in surprise. Cut to Parker pouring pudding into the vase)

Parker: The powder hardens the liquid, tricks the bomb into thinking it's not moving.

Eliot: Should give you a little wiggle room. Very little

MASTERMIND PARKER

- - - - -

(mourners are gathered around a casket with a line of black cars parked nearby. An open casket shows Sophie lying inside. Eliot is standing at a podium)

Eliot: She had a way of taking care of people, you know? She was a sister... she was best friend, all rolled into one. I'm gonna miss you, Soph-- So-O-O-O-O much, Katherine.

(Eliot leaves the podium. Hardison stands to let Parker walk by and she approaches the podium. Nate stands at the back of the crowd, Eliot joins him)

Parker: Katherine and I have known each other forever. Almost two years. Yeah, I know that probably doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. I never really had many friends. Which is why losing her is so hard. (sighs) It's so creepy. I mean, she's really dead. I was just talking to her and now she's just laying there. She was just laying there.

(Nate coughs and Hardison gets up to go to Parker)

Parker: Can you hear me?

Hardison: Parker. I'm -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, y'all. What – What she really means is just, um, Katherine was like family. And sometimes, friends are all the family that you have. So... you -- you good? Come on. Just – let -- just keep going. You got all hysterical and emotional

- - - - -

btw there is at least one door from behind the briefing monitors which means they have at least one extra room (most likely more) from the adjacent apartment eliot knocked the wall down from

they have guest rooms or something back there for if anyone needs a place to crash

- - - - -

Sophie: We used to work together. We did the Copenhagen job in '97, the Berlin Polytech job in '98, and, Nate, remember – Remember that great run in Moscow?

Nate: "That great run"? I chased you for three months.

Sophie: Well, uh, technically, y-you chased us. Sorry.

Hardison: Are you saying that you saw other teams before us?

Parker: Really just another Nate before Nate.

Eliot: Let me ask you a question -- what bugs you more, is it the fact that he was with Sophie first or that he outsmarted you?

Nate: Moving on

eliot puts his arms over the couch and behind parker and I’ll take it + them grinning at each other seeing nate’s discomfort

- - - - -

mikel is wearing flannel in this one and you can now take bisexual mikel from my cold, dead hands

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrong place, wrong time. Starke must have seen me, and now that I’m one of the good guys, decided to get rid of me, because...why? Because... Because I know his scams. Because... I know his favorite scam.

[Warehouse]

(Stark’s team is sitting on crates looking at monitors as he goes over the job)

Starke: Cafe and a moonlit terrace.

Sophie (voice over): The Mona Lisa variant.

[Briefing Area]

Parker: Oo! (claps) That was the first one I learned!

- - - - -

(Hardison is drinking orange soda and working on a computer as Sophie watches)

Sophie: I'm not dead. I'm right here, Parker. So, this is, um, it's what you do, right? You take footage of us on cons and you -- you -- you -- download it into that?

Hardison: Yeah, I analyze it, I monitor comms, I scan for a police frequencies, I -- You had no idea I do all this, did you? Well – d-does nobody respect the van? The van is important. What -- What is that?

Sophie: It's lemon-Zest tea. I got to tell you, it's -- It's a little bit -- It's a little bit whiffy in here.

Hardison: It smells like hard work. That's what it smells like. D-- Whiffy

sophie has no idea what hardison does and does not like the van smell. hardison is ready to go off

- - - - -

Sophie: That was some nice things you said at my funeral.

Hardison: Wait. We -- We trust Nate to make sure the plan works. We trust you to make sure we’re all okay.

- - - - -

Starke: Word is on the street that you run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic.

Nate: Well… what?

Starke: Come on. Everybody knows. You robbed a bank and you -- you framed a judge. You rigged a jury to steal a million-Dollar settlement. I hear that you even conned the Irish mob out of a couple of million dollars just this year. Now, that's style.

Nate: That's one way of looking at it.

Sophie: Listen, Nate, if you tell him the truth about us, we're blown

- - - - -

Hardison: I know this style. This is Chaos.

(computer screen flashes signal found. Hardison grabs his keyboard and heads for the back door of the van)

[Parking Lot]

(Hardison exits his van and a little ways down the parking lot, Chaos exits his van with a laptop in his hands. They square off like an old west gun fight)

Hardison: Chaos. I heard you were in jail. Guess I was wrong.

Chaos: Hardison. I heard you sucked. Guess I was right.

(they eye each other across the lot, their fingers twitching. Abruptly they raise their keyboard and laptop and begin typing while car alarms start going off)

this wild wild west showdown tho

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, now, we know Starke. This guy goes by the name Apollo. I've chased him a couple of times -- infiltration, physical security.

Parker: People in that line of high-risk work tend to be very unstable. We could use that. Write that down.

(the rest of the team exchange glances)

🥰 she’s sitting next to eliot with popcorn between them 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, this person here's ex-Mossad, sealed records. Mikel Dayan used to work both sides as a mercenary.

Eliot: Mikel Dayan. I know that name.

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl.

Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison.

Hardison: I don't care.

Eliot: Seriously. She actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. (starts gesturing time parker) She broke the mop and took --

Hardison: Eliot. Eliot. (turns back to monitors) Now, this here's Colin Mason, otherwise known by his hacker handle as "Chaos." As... whatever. Hacked the pentagon, the NSA. The CIA computer guys call him the Kobayashi Maru.

Eliot: What the hell is that?

Hardison: None of y'all got that? Seriously?

Parker: Star Trek.

Hardison: Thank you

parker’s reluctant fistbumb I love them + it’s officially canon that she’s seen at least some of the movies

- - - - -

Nate: I tried to say to her I’m sorry, you know, and I don't –

Security: Because, as men, we're taught to hide our emotions. You share or you pay the price.

Nate: Yeah

- - - - -

Mikel: You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?

(Eliot walks forward, taking off his jacket and hanging it on some pipe)

Eliot (in Hebrew): Not unless she hits me first.

(they approach each other and begin to fight, blocking each other until Mikel hits Eliot in the chest, knocking him back. He touches where her blow hit.)

Eliot (in Hebrew): That counts

let me just say I LOVE that they had a woman hitter

- - - - -

Starke: What is going on, guys?

Guard: Motion sensors went off, sir.

Starke: I already checked that out. Everything's secure. And who's this?

Guard: Uh... he just got lost. No problem.

Starke: Sir, you okay?

Nate: Yeah, I’m fine.

Starke: I'm Nathan Ford. I'm with the insurance company.

(Nate gives Starke an irritated look)

- - - - -

Parker: What kind of bird did you use?

Apollo: North American Kestrel. It's small-Bodied, but its wingspan is expansive enough that it sets off the motion detectors.

Parker: I would've gone with the Scarlet Tanager. Similar wingspan, but the brighter colors are more distracting.

Apollo: Yeah. That was my second choice.

(Apollo scrambles forward in the ductwork. Parker also scrambles forward, headed another way)

- - - - -

eliot taking off his shirt too? equal rights

- - - - -

Starke: Now, why would you want to kill Sophie?

Chaos: Come on, Starke. (gathering equipment) I had set up the perfect double-cross, and then you want to go and bring in a new player at the last minute? "Oh, and by the way, guys, that new player is gonna be Sophie Devereaux." There's no way I’m gonna try to out-con Sophie Devereaux! And I hate to break it to you, Starke, but she was the one that everybody was always scared of. It was never you.

- - - - -

[McRory’s Bar]

(Parker and Apollo sit at a table with locks)

Parker: Go.

(they begin picking locks to see who is fastest. Across the room, Eliot and Mikel sit at a table)

Mikel: I can top that. (pulls her shirt aside to show a scar on her shoulder) Frag grenade, Somalia.

Eliot (pulls up his sleeve to show scar on his arm): Myanmar. Sniper.

Mikel: I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while.

Eliot: When?

Mikel: 2003.

(Eliot looks surprised. Mikel holds up the handcuffs and Eliot quickly pulls her hand down)

Eliot: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can't have that.

Hardison (walking by): Handcuffs. Y'all nasty

(eliot has a handcuff kink and was probably pegged within an inch of his life that night. I said what I said.)

- - - - -

(Sophie stands looking down at her grave. The headstone for Katherine has been replaced with one for Sophie Devereaux. Nate approaches and stands next to the grave)

Sophie: Starke was right. I'm not Sophie Devereaux anymore. I haven't been for ages. I... you killed her, you and your silly crusade.

Nate: It's just a name.

Sophie: No, they're not just names, not to me. All my aliases, every one of them, I -- I know when their parents died. I know when they had their first kiss.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 32 - I Get So Tense That I Can’t Speed Up The Time

Berlin Germany, April 17 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: Feeling the cold concrete beneath my body is something I will never get used to when I slip. It was dark. really dark. So dark that I couldn't tell just exactly where I was at all. I gather myself up and find that I seem to be in a dark alleyway in between two tall brick buildings, completely naked and cold as hell.

Why, just why in the fucking hell did I have to slip?

With my one arm covering my chest as best I could - thank god my dark curls are long enough to help - and my other hand trying to cover the rest of me, I attempt to make my way out of the alley, being careful not to step on anything that could hurt me. I approach the sidewalk, staying close to the corner of the one buildings and look down both sides of the street to see if I could figure out where I am. Everything is written in German so I just hope to fuck I'm in Berlin.

Ok think Andi, think... where can I find something to cover myself with?

It's always this part that scares me the most, especially since I'm in a completely different country. I remember the name of the hotel that I booked for the guys, so if I could just find a way to somehow get there.

*****

"Hey du was machst du? raus hier!"

I was able to find my way into an apartment through the back and sneak into a bedroom as quietly as I could, find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that were a little bit too big for me and a pair of runners but just as I was sliding myself back out the door, I was caught by the German who is now screaming at me while I clamber down the fire escape.

"I'm sorry, I had the wrong place," I call back to him though I'm pretty sure he had no idea just what I was saying.

"Wenn ich dich wieder fange, bring ich dich um!" He continues to scream at me and I can only guess that he hopes I don't show up again. Given by the tone of his voice though it sounds like he might kill me if I was to show up again, which wont be happening anytime soon.

Once I make it to the bottom of the fire escape, I quickly make my way down the street, hoping to see if I can find anyone who speaks even just a little bit of English so that I can get to the hotel as fast as I could. I walk a few blocks and find myself in the downtown district and I catch a Newspaper box that showed that I was in fact in Berlin. Thank fucking god. Now I just need to find my way to the Hotel.

*****

Lindemann Hotel, Berlin

CHRIS: "Look I know, we missed soundcheck but I don't care. I'm staying right here in the Lobby until she walks through that door,"

"Chris, man come on we go on in like a half hour and we're not even at the fucking club yet - "

"I don't give a shit!" I cut Jason off. We had been arguing the entire trip to Berlin and he was really beginning to get on my last nerve.

"You're the one who's always so damn anal about making sure everything is perfect, but suddenly once Andi somehow goes missing - "

"She slipped Jason - " Matt defends.

"Whatever -" Jason snaps back.

"Hey guys, come on," Kim starts.

"No fuck that! We shouldn't have to wait around for your girlfriend to finally make an appearance,"

"Since when do actually have anything to contribute to any sort of conversation we're having?" I snark back at him. Jason just stares at me stunned at my remark and I add "Just fucking throw your headphones back on and ignore the whole thing like you usually do,"

"Fuck you Chris!" He says and pushes me which makes me stumble back just a little but I maintain my ground and grab his black T-shirt by the collar and pull him to me, his eyes burning into mine.

"Fuck me?! Fuck You!" I shout.

"Hey, Hey guys... c'mon break it up," Kim says as he gets between us and I let go of Jason's shirt when suddenly I see Andi walking up to the front doors of the hotel, completely soaked as it had started raining. She opens the door and sees the four of us grouped around the lounging couches.

"Holy Shit, Andi you made it," Matt says.

"Baby - ?" I exhale feeling my heart fly out of my chest at the sight of her. I immediately runover to her and wrap my arms around her though she seems a little stand offish with me.

"Can I have the room key?" She says without much emotion and I slowly let go of her as she holds out her hand. I quickly reach in my shorts pocket and pull out the hotel room key and hand it to her. She turns to move away from me but I catch her arm and turn her to face me again.

"Babe, what happened? What's wrong?" I ask furrowing my brow.

"You guys should head to the club, you're already late so... I'm fine I just need to shower and get changed and I'll meet you there," She says barely looking up at me.

"Andi - ?"

"Chris I'm fine, just head over and I'll meet you there," She says and without so much as a look at me, she pulls away and makes her way up the stairs to the hotel room. I turn back to the guys and they look just as confused as I am. I shrug and shake my head wondering why she wont let me at least apologize to her but I figure I'll just give her a bit of time.

"Let's go... she'll uh, just meet us there," I say as I head towards the lobby doors, Jason rolling his eyes at me with Matt, Ben and Kim all looking between each other, then shrugging and  slowly following me out the hotel doors.

*****

ANDI: I arrive inside our room and toss the hotel key on the table beside the door. All I wanted was to take these god forsaken wet stolen clothes off me and jump into the shower as fast as I could. I didn't want to talk and I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to get on with the night and do my job like I was hired to do.

Once I peel the soaking wet clothes off of me, I grab a plastic bag that was stashed underneath the bathroom sink and stuff the clothes inside. Then I toss the bag of clothes towards the hotel room door and quickly turn on the shower. Once the water was hot enough, I step inside and let the water wash over me as I quickly clean myself up. After a few moments it was like I couldn't stop the flood of emotions that suddenly rattled my frame. As the suds from the soap swirl down the drain, I lean forward catching myself against the shower wall and start to cry.

I didn't intend on crying but it was like I couldn't help myself. Traveling back to see Andy really just shook me up. I am by no means over him at all but whatever happened between us has really fucked with me. I feel horrible, heartbroken and guilty that I did the very thing that I never wanted to do. I love Chris more than life itself and I just can't get passed this horrible pain that I just keep inside.

*****

Once I finish my shower, I gather myself together and calm myself down enough to change into just some ripped up jeans and my Black Sabbath band shirt with my Doc Marten. I fix my dark curls as they fall down around my shoulders and find my bag that Chris had brought up for me before the inevitable time slip on the bus. I reach in my bag and pull out a little prescription bottle.

Just after Andy's funeral, I had an appointment with my neurologist for a regular checkup that I normally have every 6 months or so. He basically asked me all the usual questions that he has asked me since I began seeing him- when my original doctor from when I was kid transferred all my files over when I moved to Seattle - He performed a few tests, nothing out of the ordinary and suggested that I try lorazepam.

Years ago I was put on a different drug for epileptic seizures but for some reason, it made my time slips worse. Lately my time slips have been becoming more frequent once again but I was reluctant to try lorazepam, thinking it wouldn't do anything or once again make it worse. Since I'm traveling, I didn't think that I would actually have a time slip episode at all but as we all know, I can never seem to predict if or when it will happen and since I've been so busy, I've hardly had time to sit down and relax and play like I usually would to help keep the time slips at bay. The pills had been sitting in my bag from the moment I picked them up from the pharmacy and a part of me is still so worried about taking them. I obviously don't want to have another time slip happen again so I guess this seems to be my last resort until I can figure out a way on my own.

"Ok... Andi, here goes nothing,"

Reading the label, I pour out one tablet into my hand and close the bottle up, putting it back into my bag. I walk back into the bathroom and turn the tap on, placing the pill on my tongue and scooping up some water with my hands to swallow. I then check myself in the mirror and dab a bit of the water from my chin, and then grab the hotel key and head out to meet the guys at the club.

*****

Messehalle Bar and Night club, Berlin

ANDI: ".... remember, I love you, love yoooouuuu!!!!" Chris screams as he drops down to his knees on stage, pouring himself out to the crowd with incredible emotion. He leans back practically laying down on stage while Kim continues to wail on his Gibson Firebird. I stand off to the side of the stage as a few members of the road crew catch me up on everything since my time slip. After a few moments, the band breaks into 'Beyond The Wheel' and Chris continues the emotion all the way through. It's so incredible how he can do that as I admire him from the side stage.

Towards the end of their set, Chris picks up the mic stand and begins to smash it against the stage floor, causing the crowd to go crazy and scream how much they love Soundgarden.  A far cry from the crowd last night.

"Thank you!" Chris bellows into the mic and slams it down on the stage, making the loudest thump as Kim does his feedback outro. Chris flips his curls out of his face and heads towards me, glancing at me but not much else and then heads down the stage stairs.  I close my eyes for a second knowing that we need to actually talk this out and I follow him as he walks out the backstage door. I stay pretty silent as I follow him back to the dressing room, Kim and Matt trailing behind me and Jason following even further behind.

"Chris?" I call after him but he says nothing and doesn't look back at me as his curls sway with each stride. I exhale and try to catch up to him, reaching for his hand once I do. He just gives me a look but doesn't pull away as I look back up at him apologetically. I lace my fingers through his and keep my gaze on him as we try and find the dressing room to the place.

"Yo, Chris I think it's this way," Kim calls down the opposite side of the hallway.

"Ok, I'll catch up in a minute," Chris calls back with his eyes still on me. We stop for a moment and he suddenly moves me back up against the concrete wall, leaning down and cupping my face in his palm, pressing those incredible soft lips to mine.

It caught me off guard for just a moment, but this is exactly what I wanted from him since the moment we even started arguing. Our kiss instantly becomes heated, full of hunger, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. I reach up and lace my fingers through his curls as his hands move to my hips, pressing himself against me. I can feel his excitement through his shorts already as my tongue plays with his eagerly wanting to just have him fuck me right here against the concrete wall of the club.

His hands move up under my shirt, his fingers feeling rough as they skip across my skin. They find their way to my breasts and he begins to tease each nipple through my sheer lacy bra. I sigh against his lips as his thumbs continue to brush across my nipples sending chills all over my body.

"I'm sorry baby," He says against my lips.

"Shhhhh, it's ok, I don't care. I just want you," I say against his lips. He chuckles and lifts me up as I wrap my arms around his neck, still never breaking our kiss. I wrap my legs around his waist as he somehow carries me down the long hallway looking for a back room.

With us both beginning to laugh, he finally finds a back room, which looked more like a storage closet but I could really care less as he maneuvers the doorknob and carries me inside. He closes the door and sets me down, finding a long string and pulling it to light up the room in a dim warm yellow glow. I quickly reach for his belt as he bites his bottom lip and unbuckle it as quickly as I can, pulling down his shorts and boxers, seeing his excitement before me. Without taking my eyes away from his, I quickly unbuckle my belt and slip my jeans along with my panties over my hips and down to my knees. Chris lets out a pleasing grunt, almost cave man-ish and turns me around, pushing me up against the wall of the closet. I let out a surprised squeal and giggle, loving how suddenly he is becoming so aggressive.

"You want me baby?" he asks.

"Uh huh," I breathe.

"You want me to fuck you baby?" He says low and deep in my ear as he grips my hips with his hands and urges me to spread my legs apart. I move my hands to steady myself against the wall as I feel his hardness, the tip of him teasing just at my entrance.

"Yea, yes I want you to fuck me," I bite my lip and I feel him push himself inside me, sending unbelievable shivers all over my body.

"Holy shit, you are so wet already," He exhales moving slow with the first couple of thrusts and then begins to pick up his pace. His left hand holds my hip to steady me while his right hand moves to cover mine against the wall, lacing his fingers through.

"Oh fuck yes," He growls as I push myself back against him just a little. He then slides his hand from my hip, his fingers immediately make contact with my clit, using slow circular motions at first, then gradually faster making my muscles clench around him.

"Fuck, don't fucking stop," I tell him half panting, my temple pressed against the wall.

"Don't worry baby I'm not gonna stop until you cum for me," He growls in my ear in which just the sound of his voice, deep and raspy from singing completely sent me right over the edge. In that moment I release instantly, surprised that I was able to get there so damn quick and it wasn't long before Chris himself cried out in animalistic hunger, releasing everything inside me.

"Oh my god," I pant, my cheek still pressed against the wall, my eyes squeezed shut as I try to come down with out falling on the floor. He chuckles as he gracefully pulls out of me and I try to turn around and face him. He laughs as he helps me and places his hands on either side of my cheeks, brushing some dark matted curls from my forehead.

"If that's how you apologize all the time, I should get mad at you more often," I giggle and he laughs, touching his forehead to mine.