#wad berlin

[philsgirlinprague]

If I had a nickel every time I cried to all star by smash mouth I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

[phaoi]

what an incredible night @danielhowell

[goldenpinof]

via James' stories, 10/02/2024

[farawayfromthemoon]

cmon Berlin you can do better 🥲

[phansterdam]

end of year joy list

was tagged by @deathclassic (like 2 days ago. sorry molly!) to make a little list of things that made me happy in 2023!! it's been a pretty big year for me with some ups and downs, but definitely a lot of ups!

big things:

i wrote my bachelor's thesis and successfully graduated! it was a lot of work and quite stressful but i'm really proud of myself

i started my masters degree in multilingualism in germany! it was my first time moving out of my parents' place and it's a long way away, but i'm so fucking glad i did it as it's been amazing so far!

in germany, i fell into a wonderful friend group, which has been so good for me as i was so fucking lonely before. i haven't known them that long yet, but all of them already mean a lot to me

got a girlfriend let's goooooooo!!! getting together was a literal hallmark movie lol so yeah that's been very exciting

dan and phil cam back!!!! (also i saw wad!) yes this is under big things fucking sue me

small things:

i didn't go to a lot of concerts but the ones i did go (eurovision in concert and froukje) were sooo good!!

i went on a lot of cool trips this year: berlin with my study association, solo interrailing through germany and denmark, and antwerp with my friends!

i read 36 books, most of which i would recommend, but the best ones were mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia, bunny by mona awad and giovanni's room by james baldwin

i watched around 40 movies this year! i was never that much of a movie person, but i guess i am now lol. best ones (in no particular order) were nimona, both paddingtons, both knives outs, bottoms, heathers, eeaao and barbie

don't think i watched that many shows this year but i did watch both succession and breaking bad and damn that's good tv

knitted so many things. my room is overflowing with knitted things. also i learned to crochet!

not tagging anyone bc idk who hasn't done this yet or if anyone even still wants to do it now we're in january proper, but if you see this and you want to do this then i want you specifically to do it

[builder051]

Happy Christmas (war is over)

Chasing Ghosts

————————

WARNINGS: firstly, this is one of those stories that has practically no action, but there’s a ton of content in somebody’s head. It also has pretty much every trigger in the book, but 99% of them are tiny mentions. Actual tws for talk of graphic violence (war setting), mental health talk inc depression and short mention of eating disorders. Also emeto. Dirty jokes. Basically you know what comes with the territory.

—————————-

Steve’s done it again. He’s gone and made Christmas eve a merry affair. He can pretend it’s for all of their benefit, but the indulgence is purely his own.

Tasha’s in as decent a mood as she can, nursing only one cracked toenail from her final Nutcracker fill-in.

James, who never understood the pre-holiday excitement, now uses his political science textbook as a lap table. A childhood without Santa and a career granting as little leave as possible left him at an impasse. Floating around and forgetting the day of the week would cause him more stress than relaxation, so an intersession class it was. It felt like an unacknowledged compromise. His body would be home for break, but there’d be a plausible reason hime to hole up and keep his head down.

The speakers on the television emit a jumbled mix of Mannheim Steamroller and Irving Berlin. James has his aids turned low, but he’s still grateful Mariah Carey been excised from the playlist.

“That’s not a real Christmas song,” Steve had explained when he quickly thumbs-downed her song on the playlist. There had been a warm kind of silent agreement after that.

Wham!’s “Last Christmas” brought up more of a debate. “It’s, like, canon?” Steve had offered timidly.

“Only because it was written before you were born,” Tasha said with a laugh. She could’ve mentioned that none of them had come into the world yet by 1983, but with her choice phrasing, the statement seemed simultaneously very wise and very naive.

“It’s about sex,” James had added irritably, as if it was a fact he was reading aloud from his book. He wanted to open it up again. He’d stopped in the middle of a chapter, much to his disgruntlement.

“Everything’s about sex…” Tasha had sighed. “I mean. The Nutcracker’s a fucking pedophile…”

“We are not having a discussion about dirty fairy tales,” James stated with finality.

It took a moment for everyone to breathe, then the tension began to melt again, perhaps with help from the dancing flame atop Steve’s balsam scented candle.

Once it’s clear they all had both motivation and ability to keep peace, Steve goes into the kitchen to warm eggnog and pour out caramel popcorn. As he distributes the goodies back in the living room, he shoots James a look. “It’s, like, I added the rum to the whole thing…”

James hates it when Tasha takes her drinks and drugs home with her. He has a cold, uncharitable thought stashed at the back of his mind; if Tash dropped dead somewhere, anywhere, so long as it was out of the house, he wouldn’t be liable. Within the confines of the, apartment though… “Eh,” James shrugs. “Spirit of the season,” he grumbles. Then, to Tasha, “No crushed up pills or shit overnight, you hear?”

“Sure…” Tasha un-crams herself from the corner of the sofa and limps back toward the kitchen.

“I can get—“ Steve calls, half-rising from his seat.

“I got it…” Tasha digs in the fridge for a moment, then returns gripping a bag of unwashed celery stalks.

“Hey,” James starts to admonish.

“You said no dirty fairy tales, no sex songs, and no snorting Xanax.” Tasha holds the celery as if it were a club she’d use to hit him. “You haven’t outlawed anything else.” She wads her body cross legged against the arm of the sofa, pulls a stalk of celery from the bag, then uses it as an unnecessary swizzle stick for her eggnog.

James rolls his eyes. His desire to express irritation wraps around and consumes what could’ve been silence for Steve’s sake. L He can’t help himself, though. “Shit, Tasha. Why? Just, fucking why?”

Tasha looks down at the thick miniature tree garnishing her beverage. She holds it between finger and thumb, then moves her tongue seductively through the divet where the most eggnog and cinnamon have gathered. She points the dripping celery stalk at James. “You ever been sucked that good?”

“My god.” James shakes his head, which he hadn’t realized was throbbing. The movement set it off, maybe. Or his growing fury. “Sorry about her, Steve. If you don’t want to watch, we can just go to bed.”

“Oh,” Steve hesitates. “It’s ok.”

“See?” Tasha looks smugly at James. “I’m just offsetting calories,” she says, as if her intention wasn’t already clear.

“And I assume you’re just out of innuendos, too?” James means it to be a warning. He’s had a few sips of his own eggnog, though, and he hopes his vocal cords haven’t relaxed enough to edge his authoritative aggression down to something more like childish bickering.

“Never.” Tasha dips her celery again, licks off the eggnog, then holds it to her lip like a cigar.

“That’s… great.” James stands and starts chugging the rest of his eggnog. He raises his book and points it in the direction of the bedroom down the hall. He’ll be reading in bed if needs him.

“Sure, yeah.” Steve nods to James, still playing it cool. His desire not to take sides is beginning to freeze him, though. The robotic head tilt. The canned laughter.

James has his last gulp of eggnog in his mouth, and he’s trying to decide whether to put his mug in the sink or whether to take it with him to make the flight to the bedroom quicker. It ends up not mattering, though. Steve says something, and James’s mug cracks in two as it hits the floor.

“Maybe I should’ve made you a bloody mary.”

It’s a joke. It’s nothing to do with James. It’s about the stupid celery sticks. It’s one of Steve’s weaker attempts to clear the air.

James slaps his hand over his mouth to keep more than just eggnog from spilling back up. His vision goes shiny around the edges. He can’t see a thing…

James barely makes out olive green fatigues. The pixilated beige that actually served as camouflage was perpetually in the laundry. Off time was marked with untucked white t shirts and dark trousers with the cuffs rolled up and waistbands rolled down.

James he hears the laughter. Smells the booze. Tastes the extra sugar and food dye that taint what would’ve been perfectly good sugar cookies. The falseness of the holiday spirit mingles with the flavor of grocery-store frosting and sets an ache in his teeth.

“Hey, you shot me!”

James jumped and whipped his head around. Active shooter? Immediate evacuation?

It was a kid, completely plastered and stumbling. He was probably early in his tour and still unfamiliar with the hazy line between gallows humor and the taboo. James should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt. Should have swallowed his anger and ruined only his own holiday.

The spitball soaked in lake red #40 had stuck in the center of the kid’s chest, sending brightly colored dribbles all down his front. The expansion of the stain was far too pale and pinkish to mistake for actual blood, but the kid played it like a fool.

“Oh you fucker! I’m dying! You killed me!”

James, khaki-clad and with seven minutes remaining on his shift, grabbed the kid by the shoulders of his shirt and pinned him against a tent pole.

James doesn’t remember his exact words. They were probably along the lines of “you ever taken a real bullet before?” Then he’d wielded a fist and clocked him in the throat.

The kid fell to the side, gasping, but James’s grip held him upright. Somebody came up from behind and tried yanking James off the kid, but he backhanded whoever it was without turning his head.

“Friendly fire! It was just a stupid—Just a—“

The voice came out slurred and muffled. The back of James’s hand was sticky with blood and stinging around the knuckles. He’d definitely caught teeth.

Then the kid laughed. He peeked over James’s shoulder and offered his attacker-cum-defender a peace pact and a couple more Budweiser. “Beer’s all I got, but with your lip all fucked up, call it a bloody mary—“

James could’ve murdered them both. Really, truly killed them. His weapon was holstered on his hip. His right hand was already heading that direction. He didn’t need to hear this shit. These dumbasses didn’t need to be among the ranks of America’s finest, not with these stupid, drunken jokes. A bloody lip was nothing. Nothing to watching a fellow soldier explode and suddenly having a face full of lacerated brain matter. James had learned hard and early that alcohol is less a mask and more a mirror.

A buddy from James’s platoon mistook the assault as 2 on 1 with James as the target. A rough reminder to punch his timecard before he punched another soldier broke James’s bubble of violent thought. He wiped his bloody hand across the spitball stain on the kid’s chest, then walked away to do his proper duty.

No one reported him, it being Christmas eve and all. Assault, fighting, taking action in rage, cheating the Army out of seven minutes’ good labor… James could be reprimanded for any and all of them. Probably should be. Residual anger bubbled in James’s gut, creating an excess of bile seeping up from the back of his tongue.

He can’t remember how much time had passed, but eventually James heard someone shuffling around outside his tent. Then there was retching.

James’s mouth filled with saliva. He couldn’t swallow. He could barely move. Using every reserve of energy he had, James grasped the tent’s entrance flap and vomited heavily into the sand. He barely caught a breath before retching violently again.

Multiple minutes passed before James could get a grip on himself. He wanted to cry; he was glad to be expelling something other than tears.

Eventually the other unfortunate soul trudged around the corner and headed to the next bunkhouse over from Jame’s. It was the stupid kid, still wearing the shirt soiled with koolaid and blood and now sick. James swept tent’s the canvas cover back over himself. He wouldn’t be able to stand eye contact. One or the other would be eating a bullet this time. Only this time, James’s weapon was stored securely beside his cot.

James is largely unaware of Steve easing him onto his knees. He catches a glimpse of Tasha’s feet, then her hands as she pulls shards of china from the carpet.

“It’s ok,” Steve’s voice intones. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

“I’m fine,” James splutters. It’s an automatic response; both Steve and Tasha know to take no stock in it. James breathes in the balsam scented air. He separates the tastes of cream and bile and rum. He shakily wipes at his nose and mouth. James’s hand comes away sticky and red-streaked. It’s nothing major; a scrape or pressure sore releasing more bodily fluid to add to the mess. He swallows experimentally, and harsh, stinging reflux makes him gag all over again.

“Alright.” Steve pats James’s shoulder. “Want to try the bathroom?”

James presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He shakes his head, but the meaning of the question hasn’t yet penetrated. He has half a mind to stick his fingers down his throat. James squints into the mess of sick he’s made on the living room floor, and there, plainly, is the thin bloody rivulet that’s departed his body.

His spirit must be dead. Or maybe his body. James has to have passed into some dimensional void where injury starts to mean nothing. Flashes of hopelessness displace James’s blurry vision again. Playing fast and loose with his benzos fresh out of the VA. Tasha missing her graduation party to receive CPR whilst en route to get her stomach pumped. Headphones blaring death metal into his ears as he passed the car in the driveway, then stood gaping as the foster dad jumped out of the driver’s side and zipping his pants while a girl from his school tore in the other direction, her skirt tucked into her underwear.

It’s too much. It’s going to crush him. James can’t feel his body. He can’t feel his face. He wonders if he’s been dosed with Haldol. Is his brain going to shut off too? Should it? Would that give him blessed relief at last?

It’s only when Steve shifts James’s head more securely onto his shoulder that he realizes tears are pouring from his eyes. He never does this. It’s just making more mess.

“It’s probably a migraine,” Tasha supplies. There’s a shrug written in her tone.

“James?” Steve probes. “How are you feeling?”

Worse than dead doesn’t seem like an appropriate response. James settles with, “I don’t know.”

It’s true enough. James’s life has been wrought with obstacles, with pain, with too much knowledge, too much experience, too much feeling. He’s fucked. Completely. He was battle worn before he’d left for his first deployment.

And now he’s left with, what exactly? An overly doting boyfriend. An obnoxious little sister. A candle that has no right to smell so good. Kate Smith’s voice warbling about silver bells. The fuck do bells have to do with Christmas, anyway?

Nothing. They have no more importance than political science, demented ballets, or songs about sex.

As James lets Steve help him to his feet, he tries to let go. The more sick, the more tears, the better. James sniffles, and something hot and metallic flows from his sinus cavity down his throat. He coughs, and his tight muscles relax by half a degree.

A migraine. A nosebleed. A flashback. The cause is no longer important. It’s how he’s going to go on afterward.

[ratsoh-writes]

I held out my hand to Slim "Pay up, I was right"

I had made a bet with Slim, he was so sure that Darlin was the one carrying

Slim grumbles and hands you a wad of paper bills as he picks up a suddenly grumpy Berlin

You hear a gasp from Madame and you see boss start to get down on one knee-

[dnptheinfinity]

Berlin show review if you feel like it? (no pressure) (nose pressure)

okay SO

i know i've been putting this off for over a week now but the Berlin weather made me sick (@ dan I'm waiting for financial compensation) and then i also started a new job on Monday so between that and feeling like i was dying i didn't have much time 😭

but i do feel a bit better today so here's some thoughts about wad Berlin:

Berlin public transportation my belothed, i will never stop being angry at the nonexistent yellow ticket machines

the venue, the concrete circus, i really enjoyed the aesthetic of it (and the smell of popcorn) and how fast the lines outside were moving? honestly unheard of

of course i loved seeing the staging in its full glory, the stairs, the lights, the cubes. I'm so glad i got a chance to see it after we got robbed in Warsaw

that being said, i was sitting on a balcony and while it gave me a good view of the stage (and let my poor neck rest after the first row in Warsaw), like i said to you before, i did feel like i was watching the people downstairs watching the show a bit. although it definitely also had something to do with how i was feeling mentally at the time. in Warsaw i felt so.. idk focused? in the moment? and the first row seat helped with that for sure, i was just looking at dan and nothing else, in Berlin i was more distracted, but also i didn't feel the pressure to absorb as much as possible since it was my second time seeing the show i guess? idk, a lot of things impacted this but i still had so much fun!! my face still hurt from smiling and my throat from screaming and also the chair was definitely kinder for my back lmao

i was surprised by how many things that i thought were improvised based on audience responses were actually scripted? which I'm not mad about, it just shows how good an actor dan really is

most of the Germany-specific bits went right over my head, which was predictable lol but also i feel like i understood a couple of jokes that i didn't quite get the first time around (don't ask me for specifics, i don't remember)

i feel so honored that i could see the two people dressed as slutty nuns in person, the way they were dancing together during the interlude is now forever engraved in my brain

the fact that dan didn't run away from us after the show this time was also really nice, I'm barely visible in the group selfie he took but I'm there and I'm glad i did wait those 10 more minutes or i would be so mad at myself lol

and of course it was so nice to see you, Katie, Jo, and Jana again and also meet Andrea (and other people whose names i can't remember for the life of me 💀) <3

i feel like i already forgot most of what happened, this week felt like a month and my brain is only now starting to work properly again but overall - did i enjoy the Warsaw show more? yes. am i still glad that i saw it again? absolutely.

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[bikeit]

Self-Supported Berlin -> Copenhagen

Last summer (2022) I biked from ~Berlin to Copenhagen with a friend. A week of gorgeous riding on pavement and some dirt, carrying all our gear but staying in hotels to avoid the need for camping equipment, through a mix of rural landscapes, quaint towns, and cities.

It started with flying into Berlin, checking my boxed bike and a lightweight duffel bag that just held two panniers of gear. I reassembled the bike in a train station in the city, hooked my panniers onto it, wadded up the duffel bag in the bottom of one of the panniers, and rode away...

There's a recommended scenic bike route from Berlin -> Copenhagen, which partly follows the EuroVelo 7 route, with more useful detail including GPS tracks on the Komoot Berlin->Copenhagen page (I downloaded those and wrangled them into RideWithGPS on my phone, and onto a dedicated GPS bike computer I was trying out for the first time).

There's also great paper map book we used that highlights the route page by page (it's in German only, but that doesn't really matter for a map, and my friend spoke German). It's available in your typical map stores in Germany but hard to find in the US-- I ended up spending the extra money to mail order a copy from Stanfords UK ahead of time. I think it would be reasonable to do the entire ride just with this map book and no GPS, but we liked having both.

Overall, the paper map and the GPS route both seemed to match reality on the road 95% of the time, though we sometimes took alternate routes where something had changed, or we saw a physical bike route sign by the road that didn't match our map, or we just saw an interesting dirt path to detour onto.

The road surfaces varied. Other than when we had to pass through cities, many of them were a mix of quiet country roads (good pavement, few cars), paved bike paths paralleling main roads (the last rainy image below is a typical two-lane bike path in the countryside of Denmark, as nice as the main road nearby), or gravel roads cutting through forests:

There were a handful of sections with more unusual surfaces, from dirt paths to cutting through a port to get to a ferry, all fun in their own ways:

We ate a lot of white asparagus, cheese, meats, and bread (many hotels had great good protein-heavy breakfasts, and in a handful of towns we rented an apartment and cooked):

And I'll say again-- it was beautiful. We were never deep in the wilderness, but we passed farm fields, historical castles, the chalk cliffs of Møns Klint, and more. I still think about this a year later.

Finally, a week and ~500km later, we rolled in to Copenhagen and parted ways (I then traveled on to the island of Bornholm for a more lazy vacation-with-occasional-cycling).

A few other highlight memories, the experiences you can't plan but can happen when you explore:

Rain and chilly weather on one grey day-- I wanted a break. We were out in a rural area, but I looked on google maps and saw a small cafe symbol in a nearby town. We had to explore a bit to find it-- down by a harbor where nothing else seemed open. And... it was open, cozy, and full of cheerful people chatting, and we got amazing grilled cheese sandwiches while we took a break from the rain to warm up. (Hårbølle Havne Høker)

Biking past rolling rye fields on a windy day, their silvery ripples looking like ocean waves out of the corner of your eye.

Biking along the North Sea, coming to a dock jutting out into the water. Getting convinced to jump in the very cold ocean. And then getting ice cream afterwards (and there was a convenient public changing room with free hot showers nearby).

The best schnitzel and white asparagus of the trip with some house-made plum schnapps, in the unassuming tiny hotel restaurant in Bützow (I think it was the only hotel in town, the Hotel Bützower Hof).

Biking for an hour or two on a dirt road in a forest without seeing another living soul. Then coming across a tiny (abandoned?) baby bird crying in the middle of the road, and moving it off the road with a leaf. I know it probably didn't make it, but we had to do something.

Seeing a sign for a mountain bike detour, and taking it (only had to walk one short section).

Stopping for a beer at tiny microbrewery cafe just off the ferry (Café Købmandsgården), and ending up chatting with the brewer for a while and getting to taste beers-in-progress in the Brite tanks.

A few notes on route and timing:

We debated how much time to set aside for this, and settled on a goal of ~60-105 km (40-65 miles) per day over the course of seven days. We felt we could ride it faster, but made a conscious decision to aim for this pace for a few reasons:

This is vacation. We want to be able to stop and spend plenty of time at historical sites and interesting cafes we came across without feeling hurried.

There were a handful of gravel and dirt alternate routes that I really wanted to ride, and knew would be slower.

There was the possibility of heavy rain part of the week, and the certainty of some intense headwinds-- we wanted to leave open the option to skip a day of riding if the weather was terrible or at least make it a short day (we got fairly lucky on the rain and didn't need to skip a day, but I'm glad we had the option).

To make that pace work with the time we both had available, we decided to take our bikes on a train an hour out of Berlin and start in Neustrelitz instead of Berlin itself. We're both completionists by nature, so it was difficult at first to accept not riding the entire route... but I'm glad we made that call. When we got to the island of Møn we were blown away by the beauty and decided to spend a morning sightseeing around the island, and only got "back on the road" toward our next hotel around 3pm, so I'm glad we could make that a shorter riding day!

Weather:

We had some intense headwinds on one day, and for a few hours on two other days, but it wasn't as frequent as we expected. And we got rained on lightly along the ride, but only really got soaked on our last day, in the final two hours before Copenhagen-- the perfect time to be cold and wet and ready to sleep in...

Lodging:

We didn't reserve anything before the trip. Instead, each evening we'd look at the maps and figure out where we wanted to get to the next day, then look online and make a reservation (mostly Booking.com, but sometimes it didn't list relevant hotels so we had to do some google maps sleuthing + make some phone calls). I think one or two days we didn't even do this until lunch the day of. Overall, this worked, and it was great to have the flexibility to adjust our plans each day... but the flip side of this is one day we had to push hard for a longer ride than intended to get to a town with a hotel, and another day we almost had to detour 10 miles off route to find one with availability (but it all worked out). If I did this again, I'd probably pre-reserve hotels for Fridays and Saturdays only, since there's a lot of demand from local tourists going out to these scenic seaside towns (especially the isle of Mon).

But hey, without these constraints, we never would have ended up staying in some of the more unusual hotels, like Pension Elmehoj built in a converted retirees home, with bathrooms that look like this:

I also found this page in my notebook where, for fun, we ranked every hotel by a range of important criteria :)

A few other lessons learned (or known and reinforced):

Looking back at a notebook I kept along the ride...

Get to major ferries early (perhaps by an hour?). We did some research and planned for this, and it's good we did-- just biking across the massive ferry terminal at Rostock took a while, and we had to buy tickets and get our bikes loaded.

I liked the combination of wool short sleeve t-shirt plus light UV-blocking sun sleeves (saves effort on sunscreen).

I'm glad I brought flip flops, to walk around the hotel or beach in.

Don't make assumptions about other's travel styles, it's good to talk through what you each want out of a trip. For bike touring, I think the key points are (1) how early or late do you like to get up and roll out and (2) how much do you like to stop and detour along the way? (We traveled very well together, but it's good we talked these through before the trip because one of us assumed much earlier morning starts than the other :)

I brought just two pairs of padded bike shorts to alternate between and washed the used pair each night in the hotel sink, hanging it up to dry. It would have been convenient to pack a third pair, as these didn't always fully dry overnight and I had to figure out a way to clip them to my bike rack to dry during the day.

I definitely should have bought chain lube-- I left it at home because I wasn't sure about flying with it, but even with our lightly misty rain I should have been lubing the chain every few days.

I didn't like the screw-on style of bike pump I brought-- I accidentally unscrewed my valve cores (I didn't realize I'd bought tubes with removable valve cores) which was... startling. And I didn't have a good tool beyond my hand and a rag to tighten the valve cores in.

As usual, I brought rain pants and shoe covers but didn't get a lot out of them. When it's lightly raining, they just make me hot and sweaty and aren't needed. When it's raining harder, they only kept my feet dry for an hour or two-- eventually the rain gets in. I may shift to just bringing a rain jacket and extra socks in the future.

Similarly, I often pack leg warmers and then don't need them-- I warm up quickly enough while I'm riding.

Packing:

Generally, I traveled fairly light, with my bike plus two small panniers (10-15L each). At some point I'll write up my packing lists from trips-- every trip I learn more and refine it...

I rode with a hip pack on this trip for the first time. It felt so uncool (who cares) but carrying an extra 1.5L of water and my wallet/passport/snacks/rain jacket even when parking the bike and walking around was awfully convenient...

[philsgirlinprague]

I saw we’re all doomed one year ago in Berlin 🫶🏻😭

[phaoi]

as soon as dnp leave berlin the weather turns shit

[goldenpinof]

OMG THEY ARE USING DNPG TO PROMOTE WAD SEPARATELY THIS IS A DREAM COME TRUE

[farawayfromthemoon]

Tempodrum is the same venue Dan played in berlin for WAD yay

[makrostil]

shit 2015

[writingmyanxietyaway]

Triangles | Rio - Berlin

Requested by anon:  Hi! Love your blog btw. Would you mind doing an rio x reader x berlin imagine, where tge reader is tge same age as rio and tgey have a thing going on and berlin lijes the reader and is jealous. Reader is park of the team and plays hostage. And when they have to undress to their clothes berlin cames uo to reader and orders her to do so. And rio is like super angry, but can't do anything avout it to not reveal their relationship and the fact that reader works with them. Thank you.

Word count: 1.5k

Warning: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Note: hi! thank you so much! i hope this is what you meant! hope you like it, enjoy! x

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

‘Vienna, 2 minutes out,’ you heard over your ear piece. You were part of the heist, yet your role was to be a random stranger amongst the other hostages. Every detail, every escape plan, every weapon was discussed with you in the room. El Profesor was aware of the risks only one brave hostage could bring, so you were there to keep things cool if things went sideways.

You were also Rio’s girlfriend. You two had been dating since the start of that year, when you met at a convention for technology. When you met you two hit off immediately and had been dating ever since. Little did you know you’d both be asked to do this job, unknowing of the other. But things got a little complicated when Berlin came into the view. You two had had a love affair a couple of years back, but when you parted ways you promised never to talk about it again.

You glanced around and saw your watch counting down the last minute. You were nervous, excited and a little hesitant all at the same time. You wanted to be part of the action, not sit on the floor for six days, but here you were.

When you heard loads of commotion coming towards you, you felt your heartbeat pick up. It was happening. You saw the red suits come into view and you smirked. Guns were held in the air and screams filled the entrance - the alarms loudly ringing in the background. You stepped back a little, wanting to see your boyfriend one last time before you went to the others. You saw one of them approach you and he quickly lifted his mask to kiss you one last time.

‘Promise you’ll be careful?’ you whispered against his lips. He nodded and smiled at you, placing a hand on your cheek.

‘Always, sugar.’

He pulled you away from behind the stairs but not before pulling his mask back on. You saw Berlin burn holes in your head from the side of the stairs. Was he jealous? As you focussed on your role, you trashed in his grip, playing your role as an innocent visitor. He shoved you to all the other hostages and joined Berlin and Tokio. You faked a few tears here and there and tried to mingle with the others. Some of them were crying, some of them were in complete shock and unable to do anything. You felt slightly bad about traumatising them so badly, but you knew the plan and that was to leave without harming anyone.

-

It was now a couple of hours later and you noticed they had brought out the red suits, boots and masks. Berlin did his intimidating little talk and you all got a suit. You didn’t want to change in front of him, in front of anyone for that matter. The only man you ever wanted to see your body was Rio. You were a tough girl, but changing in front of people always made you anxious. You caught Rio’s eye when he stood on the stairs, but when Berlin moved in your direction you couldn’t help but desert your attention to him. He stopped in front of you, smirk plastered on his face.

‘Change into your suit, woman,’ he dared. You hated that smirk. What you did all those years ago was a mistake and you were contstantly reminded of that night in your sleep.

‘No,’ you stated, ‘Not here.’

‘Oh, we’ve got ourselves a brave girl on board! Hear that everyone?! This one here thinks she can do whatever she pleases.’ He took his gun and pointed it directly to your stomach. Your stare hardened. Who the fuck did this man think he was?

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rio step forward but Denver quickly held him back. He whispered something in his ear and he turned around.

‘Strip. Now.’ Berlin demanded. You knew you had to, that was the worst part. Being the only one of the hostages not wanting to wear a suit and not get shot would definitely get suspicious. You angrily took of your jacket, your jeans and changed into the suit. You felt embarassed, weak and insecure. That was a dick move and he knew it.

He stepped closer to you when you were done and whispered in your ear, ‘That’s the good girl I know. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, is it?’

You gagged at his words and he quickly disappeared up the stairs. Denver nodded at you and clapped Rio on the back. It had been such a long time since you had felt so vulnerable and for no good reason Berlin kicked you right back to that time. You had to talk to Rio. And quickly.

-

You were chosen to work in the offices and count the money. Nairobi was the supervisor. It had been more than three days since you had seen Rio and you had to talk to him. When Nairobi passed you, you dropped a wad of cash on the floor and leaned over, catching her attention.

‘I don’t feel good.. Can I please use the restroom?’ you asked her, raising your eyebrows. She nodded and grabbed you by the arm, not before threatening the other women you were working with.

‘I really need to talk to Rio. Please, Nairobi,’ you begged. She quickly nodded and went to get Rio. Pacing back and forth, you anxiously bit your nails. When the door opened, your heart dropped to the floor.

‘What did they do to you?’ you gasped, running towards him. You held his head in your hands as you inspected his face. He had a bruise on his cheek and a black eye. ‘Please tell me who did this to you, Ani.’

He looked at you through his lashes and winced when you stroked your thumb over his bruise. He looked completely broken, bags under his eyes and shrunken posture.

‘It was Berlin, wasn’t it?’ you asked. You didn’t even have to ask, you already knew. That bastard couldn’t let you go, could he? You huffed and pushed passed Rio. ‘Wait here.’

Berlin was eating when you stomped through the door. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you smacked your hand on the table, everyones attention went to you.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?’ he smuggly asked.

‘You know exactly why. What the fuck were you thinking? Smashing his face in, just because you can’t let something go that happened years ago? How old are you? 10?’ you sneered. ‘If you’re jealous, just say that. But hurting someone else because you can’t talk about your feelings is fucking ridiculous.’

The room fell silent, your speech even silencing Denver. They didn’t know you had met before the heist and especially about your relationship. You saw his tough façade fade as his eyes flickered from your furious face to the sandwich he was eating. He knew it was wrong and he regret it the moment he saw how broken Rio was. The young adult was terrified and it made him realise he had turned into the man he promised not to be anymore.

‘You seriously don’t have anything to say about this?’ you huffed. ‘You haven’t changed a fucking bit, Andrès. Stay the fuck away from me and Rio or you’ll end up just like him.’

When you left, Berlin felt humiliated. Not that you’d called him out like that, but humiliated to have let his anger take over his common sense. You had every right to respond the way you did, he would have done the same for you. Why did he feel so jealous? He was the one who broke things off, not you. He’d thrown you away like many of his other treasures, yet he couldn’t let you go. Rio was way better for you. He treated you like a princess, talked to you about his feelings and could give you a much better life than he could have given you.

‘So, wanna explain what the fuck just happened?’ Denver carefully asked. Berlin cracked his knuckled and took a sharp breath. They weren’t supposed to know and frankly, it was none of their business either. So he shoved his chair back and went looking for the both of you. The least you deserved was an apology.

‘- a dick.. he won’t do it again, I’ll make sure of that,’ he heard you say soflty. Rio hissed when you wiped away a small drop of blood just under his eye and you remorsefully sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you.’

‘No, I’m the one who should apologise,’ Berlin stated, stepping into the room. He could see Rio flinch and your stare harden. ‘I’m sorry. I let my anger cloud my reality and I snapped. There was a point where I was you Rio and I regret to this day that I let her go. I got jealous because I realised she was everything that I needed and more, but I saw that too late. I was immature and for that I want to apologise.’

Your eyes softened and you thankfully nodded at him. You turned your attention to Rio who held out his hand to Berlin. Berlin took it and shook his hand firmly.

‘Don’t let her go, Rio. She’s too precious for that.’

.. .. .. .. ..

Berlin Taglist

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