I just had my flute teacher sign a permit so the police knows that I'm on my way home from a lesson that I couldn't afford to miss if they catch me outside because I'll be illegally riding a bus until ten minutes after curfew and I don't want to have to pay 500€ for it
#my stepdad's colleague actually had to pay it bc she was out 20 minutes after curfew #she had been working overtime but didn't have proof for the cops #plus her neighbours ratted on her as if they were inofficial stasi officers #i'm allowed to make a stasi comparison i'm from germany #germany#german#sperrstunde#leaf talks
A/N: Ok ok, I know what you're thinking, I haven't even posted part 5 of MQME and now I have this!? Well, blame my brother for watching "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." (film) the night before my birthday (which was like two weeks ago), and now here I am writing the prologue of another thing. *facepalms* Anywho, I'm trying to be self-indulgent now that my finals are over and summer's up, so expect a little more than usual from me for now!
I'll be tagging people in the comments. Thank you to everyone who responded to that post.
Passing the American sector's guardhouse was easy enough, getting into the Eastern Bloc was tedious, and Liam was constantly reminded of that every time he had to step in. He'd stayed calm throughout the process, the Stasi would just look and stare at anyone who came and went, no harm done to those who were dignitaries or tourists.
His hands wrung together, neither skin touching yet he felt his fingers shake through the leather. The guard in front of him looked stern, looking through his belongings, checking if there where any suspicious items. Closing the briefcase, the guard let him through. Liam leaves, taking one last glance at the woman who kept staring at him.
Ducking into the garage, his head nearly scrapes the bottom of a plank of wood that dangled from the ceiling.
Inside, his ears ring, with the clanging of metal he covers one of his ears, his other hand gripping tightly onto the briefcase, but even then the sound reverberates. Liam presses his palm harder into his ear, and it begins to hurt. Walking further in he makes sure he has his guard up, he can't risk getting attacked in here.
His eyes then land on a Volkswagen, parked near a closed garage door. Inching near, a pair of legs come into view. He lightly taps them with his foot.
"Sich verpissen," Piss off, the person grumbles from under the car.
"Ich fürchte, ich kann nicht." I'm afraid I can not. Liam replies.
"Ich bin beschäftigt, kommt morgen zurück." I'm busy, come back tomorrow.
Impatient, Liam crouches down and aggressively bangs his fist against the hood of the beetle thrice. The person slides out from the bottom.
"Was fehlt dir arschloch!?" What is wrong with you asshole!?
"You wouldn't make eye contact with me." He didn't know if she could speak English but complained anyway.
She scoffs. "Not my problem." Her german accent dripped with every word. "The fuck do you want?"
She visibly rolled her eyes. "If you wanted some muschi*, you're in the wrong place. Brothel is two blocks down, take a left if you want the usual, take a right if you're into more ... alternative sex. I take it that a man in a suit like yours would be more inclined to the latter."
"No, no. Not that," Liam pressed the side of a closed fist to his forehead, letting out a bit of his growing irritation. "Listen, I can get you over the Wall. Would a man in a suit like mine say that?" He says as he takes a seat nearby the woman's apparent workbench.
She gives him a shocked yet curious expression. "Be careful mister, what you say can get you into trouble"
Liam switches through the photographs in his hands, tossing them back onto the table when finished. "Believe me, what I say can get me out of it."
The woman stands up, and opens the Beetle's hood. "And even if it does, why should I care about you? I don't even know your name, and you don't know mine."
"On the contrary, Margaux Yeager," Liam intertwines his fingers, "I know you like the back of my hand." He replies as he picks up a small picture frame.
The woman stares at him with a hint of disgust. "Riddle me this then, what do you want from me, stalker?"
"I need to talk to you about your mother."
"Oh no need to, just dig her up from the nearby cemetery and have a chat with her, I'm sure she won't mind."
Liam pressed his lips into a thin line before continuing. "Not your foster mother. Your real mother, Dr. Annette Yeager. An acquaintance of the Goebbels and possibly, Hitler's favourite scientist."
Margaux cringed. "That's not a very comforting fact to hear about my mother. Besides, she's probably six feet under like you know who."
"I have a reason to believe she's not."
"Enlighten me, Mr. I-know-you-like-the-back-of-my-hand."
He takes a deep breath. "After ... the war, your mother worked for us after we'd captured her in one of our lab raids. We were nice to her. She lived the American dream, bought her own Muntz a year or two later, and adopted three cats by the names of: Burgundy, Willow, and Autumn. Then, two years ago, she disappeared into thin air. Not a single trace left behind."
Liam narrates all of this to her as he rummages through his own briefcase, coming across a tracker in between his briefs. He tries to continue with a heavy throat.
"Until four days ago," he holds up a photo he pulled out from his blazer's pocket, "this was taken in Versailles."
Margaux squints, "she looks a bit ... grey."
Liam chuckles as he puts it back into his blazer. He rose from his seat, and tosses the tracker into a glass of water. "I suppose you're right, given that it's in black and white."
She shook her head. "Anyways, what does my mother gave to do with me? Other than being an estranged daughter, I haven't seen her in twenty years."
"You haven't, but, I think you know someone who knows where your mother is." She rose an eyebrow as she slammed the car hood down, Liam jolted and continued. "Your dear father, Hans Yeager. And I've been told that if her research falls into the wrong hands ... well, we would have an early schedule for doomsday. Adding to all of that, another source tells me that she was never a Nazi, just another poor soul forced to do the work for them. That's why I'm here, I want to help her. So, why don't you help me too?"
"If I had time: I talk, you talk, I make a joke and you laugh, you become so charmed by me you tell me everything you could possibly know and we'd make our merry way to your father." Turning around, Liam peers through the glossy window, he turns back to Margaux and points outside, she looks at where he's pointing. There, she spots the shadow of a woman nodding to an accomplice.
"Unfortunately, time is of the essence and I don't have that right now. So, come with me and I'll be able to protect you; refuse and you'll be spending a night with the Russians, tied up with your feet burning on hot coal as they torture you, cauterize all your wounds, and pour cement into your ears."
Without a word, Liam grabs a map from it's clip, the paper nearly tearing. He turns to the Beetle and back at Margaux, pointing at the car. "Would you mind if we used that?"
"As long as I drive."
"Just like I planned."
Margaux quickly puts away the scattered tools and into a safe space, she and Liam get into the vehicle and leave. Three blocks away from the garage, they come to a stop at a traffic light. Liam marks their route on the map he stole and Margaux keeps her eyes on the light.
"Could you pass me that brown bag? The one in my case, please."
She does what she's told. He grabs the item from her and begins rolling down the window adjacent to him with his foot, carefully he takes out the gun from the bag. Another vehicle then rolls up beside them, tires squeaking as they halt.
"Is she alone? Just hum and don't look."
Margaux hums. Liam twists the silencer onto his gun.
"Is she looking at us?"
In the corner of her eye she notices the woman staring at her. She hums.
"Does she only have one hand on the steering wheel?"
"When you hear a gunshot or two, drive."
Tension hung low in the air, with bated breaths they waited. Margaux keeps a hand on the steering wheel, gripping it harshly as her knuckles turned white. Liam prepares to take aim. The woman however, has her own gun in hand, prepared to take her own shots too.
Margaux puts the car into drive and digs her foot onto the pedal, the car gradually speeds up. Liam sits up from his hiding spot.
"She's dead, right!?"
"We can only hope she's injured."
Her anxiety rises through the roof, her palms begin to sweat as her breathing intensifies. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—"
"Calm down, Miss Yeager." Liam calmly says, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder as he whips his head around. "If you think you just helped me kill someone, don't worry, she's right behind us."
"How the hell are you so calm!? She's going to kill you for shooting at her!"
Liam tuts at her. "I am not the only one in this car, remember?"
Margaux looks at him through the rear-view mirror. "Ficker*, I thought you were comforting me!"
The car violently jolts as they get rimmed by the woman.
"Stück Scheiße!" Piece of shit!
Liam glances at his map. "Take a turn here."
Margaux swerves the car, and so does the woman. Both parties are at an impasse as they race through the streets of Berlin. There, he gets a view of the woman's face.
"Is she pretty?"
"What?" utterly confused, Liam breaks his gaze. "Why are you asking that right now?"
Margaux groans. "Kacke. I'm about to be murdered by a femme fatale before I even get to screw her."
Clearly shocked at the sudden revelation, Liam hangs his mouth open, but slowly nods. "I wasn't expecting that, but ... ok, I respect it."
Ahead of them, a fork in the road appears, left being the only safe road and right lead towards a dead end filled with sacks of cement and numerous trash bins. "Left here."
Instead, Margaux knocks the womans car with theirs, sending her sliding off to the right.
"Werde gefickt!" Get fucked!
Immediately turning left, Margaux whoops while Liam lets out a shaky sigh of relief.
"Good driving, Miss Yeager."
"Hey," she turns to him for a moment, "I'm not the only one in this car."
At the crash site, the woman sustains a few cuts to her arms and a small bruise on her face. She knows what and who she's dealing with.
"No. The Cordonian."
She follows her superior's frail form with keen eyes. Attentive and alert, she hangs on every word as if it were her last threads.
"His name is William Rys. Second in line to the Cordonian Throne and firstborn to Queen Eleanor Rys — one of our own countrymen. He abdicated at the age of eighteen, joined the Royal Air Force a year later, and was posted in Europe for a few years. After Hitler's defeat he stayed as a part of the occupying force; only to end up becoming one of the World's most prolific thief. With his connections to wealthy families and royals he was able to steal from those who knew and trusted him ... yet, he betrays them by taking from them — high-end art, antiquities, jewelry ... everything that could have a price tag on it, he took it all — and sold it on the post-war black market. His name, reputation, and image, all of it tarnished, Monaco, Hidar, Monterisso, Auvernal included, and many other countries had to have task forces made for the sole purpose of catching this man."
Her superior stopped in his tracks to look at the picture being projected.
"Look at him. You'd think he would look like your typical Prince Charming. Oh no, this is the face of a man who steals and has no remorse for it."
The woman looks at the picture. He looks handsome, yes, but who would look at this man and think of him as a notorious thief at first glance?
"He wasn't alone when he was caught," the picture was switched for another, "this one right here: Eris Huang, demolitions expert and partner in crime to William. And of-fucking-course she graduated from Harvard."
The woman shoots her superior an icy glare, she wants to know more about William, not some buddy he had tag along with him during his expeditions.
"My apologies, agent," he offers sincerely as he pushes back his eyeglasses, "moving on ... William — and his associate — were caught in Duchy Eudonia in Hidar, trying to pry open the glass casing of this, priceless ruby. You can imagine the horror on their faces as they dropped to their knees that day. Oh pitiful souls."
He chuckles. The woman keeps her eyes glued at their faces projected upon the wall. "Their ratings?"
"Now? Or at the time?"
"Well ... let's see." The man looks to the ceiling. "Ever since then, Hidar wanted to sentence him to death, but was instead sent back to his own country under the grounds of a deal they had made at the time. Cordonia now has William as their most successful agent. So I'd say he would be one of our Triple S ratings."
"And the girl?"
The woman stands up and exits her car, she spots a parked Vespa nearby. Approaching the motorcycle she notices that the keys were left behind. There was no hint of an owner nearby, so she took it and sped off.
Back to Liam and Margaux, they drove through the numerous streets of Berlin. His directions and her expertise got them to where they're supposed to be.
Margaux looks at him incredulously. "Here? This building looks like shit, and you want to stop here?" True, the building was abandoned and dilapidated, missing windows and bricks threatened the structure to fall apart.
"Not this one," Liam points to the building on their left, "that one."
He gets out of the car and crosses the street, Margaux follows after him.
Into a dingy yet sturdy four storey building, up the stairs and towards a room at the end of the hall, Liam stops by the doorway while Margaux stands sheepishly behind him.
"Where is Miss Yeager?"
Liam steps into the room and Margaux is revealed. Bertrand smiles at her warmly. "Good evening, my lady."
"Hey there. You're this guy's boss, right?" She points at Liam.
The man raises an eyebrow. "'this guy'?" he then turns to Liam. "Have you not introduced yourself, William?"
Margaux snorts. "Your name's "William"? Sounds too posh for someone like you."
"Just call me 'Liam', Miss Yeager."
"Not until you stop calling me 'Miss Yeager', William."
He begrudgingly nods. "Alright then, Margaux."
Just then, footsteps approach them, only stopping by the kitchen doorway and coughing obnoxiously. All three turn their attention to the newcomer.
"Walker," The man named "Beaumont" eyes the mugs in the newcomer's hands, "I believe that's mine."
The man perceived to be "Walker" hands him his drink. "Careful Bert, it's hot as hell."
"I can handle my heat just fine, if that's what you're worried about."
Margaux rapidly switches between the two. "Hold on," she gestures to Liam, "if his name's "William" then," then points to the two other men, "what about the two of you?"
"Oh, do forgive me for not introducing myself properly," he stands from his seat to give her a proper handshake, "my name is Bertrand Beaumont, I'm the Chief Director of Disguise of our agency."
The other doesn't bother to do the same, instead acknowledges her by nodding. "I'm Walker. Drake Walker."
"I'm Yeager. Margaux Yeager." She shoots back. "For a minute there I thought you'd say your names were 'itchy' and 'scratchy' ... I guess I'm a little enttäuscht* now."
"Heh, this one thinks she's a clown doesn't she?" Drake sneers.
"At least I'm not some coffee maker."
Drake stares at her pointedly, but before he could speak, a sudden crash from downstairs interrupts.
"Was zur Hölle war das?" What the hell was that? Margaux began to panic.
Liam takes to the window and looks down. "Shit. It's probably her."
"Who?" Bertrand asks, grabbing his gun from it's holdster.
"There was this woman who chased us on the way here, I thought we ditched her six blocks ago."
Drake tries to barricade their door with a few chairs. "Well how the hell did she find us?"
Just then, a rapid banging of their door cuts off Drake. A gunshot following right after.
"No time to explain. We'll hold her off ... Liam, take Miss Yeager with you and cross the Wall. Maxwell will be on the other side waiting."
"What about you?"
A gunshot pierces their door, nearly hitting Drake. "Just go! There's a hatch that will lead you to the roof. Go!" Bertrand yells at them.
Before Margaux could fully grasp the situation, Liam pulls her by the hand, leading her to their escape. Pulling her up, he shuts the hatch and bolts it with a pole.
Margaux begins to hyperventilate. "Wh— What— What the fuck is happening. Where the hell are we and who in the seven hells is Maxwell?"
Standing on the edge of the building, Liam flashes a light at a truck on the other side. "I'll explain later."
When Margaux finally turns around to look at Liam, a shot pierces the air and a grappling hook anchores itself to the chimney. Liam pulls a wire from his side and attaches it to the hook's wire.
"Come, this is no place to die." Liam reaches out his hand for her, beckoning her over.
She doesn't budge. She's shaking, and Liam can tell that it wasn't from the cold. His face falls when he figures it out.
"Margaux. I won't let you fall, I promise. I'll protect you."
She shakes her head vigorously, and Liam swore he saw a tear roll down her cheek.
"Ich fürchte." I'm afraid. Her voice reduced itself to a raspy whisper.
Gunshots rang into the air, Liam began to panic. What was going to happen to both Bertrand and Drake? He mused. He didn't want to compromise the extraction but at the same time he'd grown scared himself, the woman was hot on their heels, if Margaux stalled any longer then the fate of their country's future would be at stake. Behind her, he spots a pair of hands grabbing onto the edge of the rooftop.
"Margaux! We'll die if we stay!"
It clicked in her head. Die. Stay. Those two words ricocheted and Margaux ran to Liam's side.
He wraps an arm around her waist and keeps her close to his chest, she burrows into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He made sure to secure her with his grip, not wanting her to fall off.
Liam leapt from the building, their wires held firm and was able to carry them both. Sliding down the makeshift zipline, the wind whipped through their hair, some of Margaux's golden locks getting caught in Liam's face. Behind them, the wire dipped a little as the woman followed suit, making use of her trench coat as her mains of holding on. Towards the end of the line, Liam's foot nearly gets caught in the barbed wire, luckily he was able to lift it before it did.
Liam and Margaux were able to make it into the truck on the Western Bloc. He gently sets her down as he removes his wire from the main one.
"Maxwell, reverse!" He yells at the supposed driver.
The so-called Maxwell does as he's told, the wire becomes shorter and the woman is left behind the wall that separates them. Before she could do anything else, Liam gives her a cold and despising look, all she could do was hang there in shocking defeat.
Her face was the last thing he saw before she dropped down and the lights from one of the Wall's guard towers shined on her.
Liam breaks the main cord of the zipline and nods to Maxwell in the rear view mirror. He looks back at Margaux, pulling her in for a hug. "Good girl."
She doesn't even question it, she just ziplined past the Wall and escaped her potential murderer. There's been enough for her for one night. And she wants to sleep. Badly.
To Liam, the whereabouts and well-being of his two friends were unknown, but for now, he had to keep Margaux safe.
The next day, one of Liam's superiors call him in for a chat at the nearby park. He's been informed that both Drake and Bertrand were highly injured, both shot in the abdomen yet were able to survive. They were admitted to a hospital shortly after they were extracted from the building.
At the park, Liam seemed pensive, he wasn't able to shake off the woman's face from his mind. She wanted to kill Margaux, but why?
Both men approach a rounded corner, Liam tries to stay behind his superior as much as possible, stopping every now and then whenever he felt like he was about to catch up, he looks into the lake and sees the flock of swans, eying them admiringly.
He snaps back to Tariq. "Yes?"
"You weren't listening to me."
"My apologies, sir."
He hums. "I wanted to know what you think. Everyone seems to be ... happy with everything, and yet we have to deal with the death, and the espionage, and the ... bullshit no one else wants to do—" Tariq looks around, eyes following a multitude of people passing by. Pitiful, he muses. "—and not even a word of thanks from them."
"It's a price we pay for the peace we want."
Tariq stops by the door of a public restroom. He gestures for Liam to follow him in, and he does. Inside, Tariq pushes the stall doors with his cane, his face falling when there was no one there.
"Is everything alright, sir?"
Tariq ignores the question at first and stands in front of a urinal, Liam looks away.
"For me, yes. But for you? I'm not so sure."
When the room fell silent, Liam slowly turned to his superior.
"What do you me—"
Liam could do nothing but stare. Because there she was. The woman from last night.
A/N: Dun, dun, duuuuunnnn ... Lol that was a bit predictable wasn't it? I'm sorry if this seems really shitty and low grade, I haven't been able to write for the past three months. But I tried my best anyway, so I hope it's a-ok 👌🏽
Oh and also, the German dialogue in this is courtesy of Google Translate. So apologies for anything wrong in there too. If anyone wants to correct me, please let me know.
Hey, thanks for checking out my writing blog! I tend to write until I'm finished with a story before posting, and I also tend to post once a year, or even every few years. I'm currently working on a few chaptered stories, all of them fanfictions, as well as several short stories, all of them original.
I'd like to share some things about my OCs in my fanfictions. If you'd like to ask questions about them, or have a prompt that makes sense in universe, please drop me an ask!
First up, I've got Aurora in the Destiny universe. She's a human Guardian of the Hunter variety. She ran Solar until she obtained Void, then ran Void until she got Stasis. Before the Red War, she carried and used sniper rifles for long range and auto rifles for closer combat. After the War, and particularly after the breakout in the Prison of Elders, she uses bows for long range and hand cannons for closer combat. Before the war, she didn't favor any particular weapon, mostly used whatever was on hand. Nowadays she favors Thorn and Hush. She had a good fireteam that watched each other's backs. One of them died fighting Oryx. Another died in the Red War. The others did not approve of her going after Uldren Sov after Cayde-6's death. They ultimately split from her when she chooses the Drifter in the Joker's Wild season. (Story Title: The Line Between Light and Dark (TLBLaD))
Next, I'd like to talk about Courier Carmen. She has retrograde amnesia, and can't remember anything before getting shot in the head. She is mostly illiterate, at least until Arcade finds out. She's a very easy-going type of person, forgives easily and doesn't ask for much. Most people, when they find out, try to use this to their advantage. However she doesn't like getting walked over, so that usually doesn't fly. She's pretty neutral about all of the powers in the Mojave, at first. She quickly assess them as she meets them. She finds herself hating the Brotherhood of Steel more than anyone, even the Legion, or the simple fact that they put a bomb collar on her twice for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Through her travels, she decides the NCR is likely the best for the Mojave, but in the end her mind is changed through the words and actions of the people she comes across, most notably Ulysses in the Divide. (Story Title: ...Yet One Gets Up (YOGU))
The previous two characters are basically placeholders for a novelization of their respective games. However, the next character is total self indulgence, a fix-it rewrite where most things don't go wrong.
Lastly, Annabel Haynes is a self-insert, indulgent, probably Mary-Sue, character that lives in the Harry Potter universe. She meets Severus Snape in the Summer before their seventh year and talks him out of joining the Death Eaters. Slowly, their relationship develops. They join the Order of the Phoenix together, and they, along with the Marauders and the rest of the Order, take down Voldemort by destroying his Horcruxes and defeating him in a final duel. (Story Title: Dream a Little Dream of Me (DaLDoM))
Thank for reading through all this! If you've got any thoughts on these characters, please drop by, I always want to talk about my OCs!
I know everyone’s caught up in Eliskni babies, House Light taking refuge in the city, and Lakshmi-2 rallying anti-Eliksni sentiment against them, but we also have a rogue Warlock going around hunting down Guardians who use Stasis and/or support House Light that no one seems to be talking about??
Eyelids flutter slowly leaving the darkness behind, lazily, it’s all too bright.
There is snow everywhere, a beautiful sight of large pines covered in ivory white, such a contrast next to the scarlet snow around him. He tries to lift his head but he can’t. Fingers dig into the snow as he tries to move and he notices something is wrong with one of his hands. He can’t feel the piercing cold from the ice slipping between his fingers anymore, but then again there is not much he can truly feel. His eyes feel too heavy and so does the rest of his body, his mind is hazy. He knows it has to be his own blood that’s spilled over the snow making it red. He knows he’s maybe freezing to death although he can’t feel it either. The soldier closes his eyes and hears some words. Russian. The voice has been speaking for a while but he only pays attention to it as the warm breath of the muzzle of a dog examines him. All those bills Uncle Sam paid for his education are being put to good use now. His eyes open and he understand the man is telling him not to move nor talk once he grunts in an attempt to ask for his location. He sees a second man getting closer and barking instructions at the first one, both of them lift him carefully and carry him into some kind of carriage to drag him.
It all fades to black again.
The cold hasn’t gone anywhere but at least he can feel it now. His eyes open slowly, expecting to still be lost into the endless woods but instead he’s in a dimly lit and murky room. There are several men staring at him, marveled, as if it were some kind of miracle to see him awake. None of them seems familiar. First instinct is too look at his hands. That’s when he first sees the shiny metal fingers folding at will, matching his flesh and bone right hand on the other side. He sees a reflection, himself, his eyes gazing him across the room but it isn’t familiar either. He can’t remember if that’s how he has always looked like, he can’t even remember his own name. His heart races in distress. He needs answers. He needs to get out. His pupils blow wide and as an impulse he knocks out two of the men, then takes another one by the throat until he can’t breath no more. He can feel a sea of armed men over his back trying to stop him. He fights like a man possessed, outnumbered, and never sees the needle coming at him.
The soldier is put into sleep again and will be later put into stasis until they figure what to do with him.
They all look proud when they call him The Winter Soldier. He has turned into one of them. They gave him a purpose, a cause, and he is loyal to it. He is their most valuable asset despite the minor incidents with the soldier’s programming. There is a war, they said, a war of ghosts and allies are needed, that’s why he has to work with Hydra. When the soldier meets his new handlers, he sees a man with a twisted smirk speaking at him as if they had met before, in another lifetime. The more the man says the better he can finally put some of the pieces together: The Howling Commandos and Captain America. Steve. The train. He… he fell from that train. He was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes from Unit 107. He and other fifty men were captured by Hydra and taken into the Valkyries as prisioners, where he was experimented on by Dr. Zola, amongst many others that didn't make it. Zola is the mysterious man speaking. The soldier knows what is about to happen, what the scientist is planning on doing to him but he can’t fight. He is heavily restrained from arms and legs as they know what he’s capable of. He wishes he had died on that train, died during one of the hard punishments he took from the russians at the Red Room. But he can’t die. He is doomed. Doomed to being used over and over and over as a weapon. To be the monster they want him to become. And with one switch, the electricity comes in to wipe away everything again.
The man lets out a scream and wakes up on a matress, covered in sweat, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding like a mad drum in his ears. The soldier takes a moment to recover and takes the sweat off his forehead with his palm. His stare seems lost into the nothingness of his dark room.
#▍▎Д ЩДУ ΓФ ЯΞDΞMPΓIФИ;「char. study bucky 」 #Have a thing I wrote some years ago for my old blog
Both are Netflix original anime and both talked about people and doomsday scenario. In Japan Sinks, people lived through the catastrophe and eventually found a new start; in 7 Seeds, selected people woke up from stasis after the worst part of a global disaster was over, it looked at what some people felt they need to do to stay alive, at how people adapt to the drastic changes and loss.
The cast of 7 seeds included Sakurai Takahiro (portrayed Tomiya Giyu, Makishima Shogo), and Minagawa Junko (Sailor Uranus (Crystal)), this reason alone made me watched the anime twice. And the most memorable character was Ango. Started off a kindhearted young man, the training he received, and the events he went through turned him into someone ruthless and was ready to kill to protect members on his team.
In terms of drawing, storyline, and depth, 7 seeds trumped Japan sinks 2020; yet the ending of Japan sinks 2020 felt more complete to me: after the tragic events and the loss of loved ones, people gradually moved on to a new life; in 7 seeds, the suvivors also moved on, yet the ending felt like a cliffhanger, especially Arashi and his girlfriend Hana never managed to meet throughout the season (as I remembered it).
Now that I won't have the means to rewatch both, I can only write this based on what I remembered, and I do not have a good memory. And so, that's all.
Hades did not get nervous easily, and when he did-- in those rare moments-- he could easily tidy his nerves so he did not express them. With this attitude, he moved through social situations with seeming ease. Political schmoozing was as natural as anything. Public speaking as natural as his magic.
But he was bloody fuckin’ nervous to talk to Lou today.
It had to be done, of course. Unfortunately, Belle’s therapist (he refused to think of Claire as his, still) had made it rather obvious to him that leaving aspects of their relationships completely unsaid was probably doing more harm than good. Sometimes one had to ripple the waters in order to go anywhere, after all. And right now, he and Lou were in a period of stasis: both too scared to talk about anything or do anything at the risk of ruining what fragile peace they’d curated for themselves.
He peeked through the window as he watched Lou in the Bonfamille garden and even now, wondered if that risk really was worth it. He didn’t want Lou to run away from him again.
But that was a coward’s way of thinking. Hades had never let his nerves rule him before, and he would not do it now (if only to-- prove something. Maybe to Claire, maybe to himself).
Taking a breath then, he pushed the door open and went outside. His feet pressed against the lush green grass, slightly moist from a generous rainfall the day before. It was lovely now though: blue skies, wispy clouds, the smell of spring thick in the air.
Lou didn’t look up at first, and so Hades had to announce himself. He paused, feeling briefly awkward. That same fear crept its way like vines...
The way we use the word Imagination, we're talking about two different things.
There's the brush: the faculty you use whenever you visualize something, the thing that responds (and provokes) when you have internal conversations. This is inside you. But it's the brush. It makes exactly one ephemeral sensation (hair on skin) until it gets ink on it, and then it can make anything that exists. And everything that doesn't.
The brush is your imagination, but there's also The Imagination.
The things you imagine don't spring into existence from nothingness-- this is what we're hiding under "your imagination" when we toss it over the whole process like king-size comforter. Brushes don't excrete ink. You have to get the ink from an inkwell. There's only one inkwell--we all use the same inkwell. We get the same ink from the same place. And there's always ink in the inkwell. It's the infinity inkwell. It sounds crazy, but it's undeniable that the ink never runs out.
Everything that happens and everything that exists and anything that doesn't exist starts in the imagination. That's why it matters so much that we let Henry Ford's school declare that the smartest way of using art is to get the truest meaning out of it--put the right thing in the box, next box: That's the laziest way, actually. When you use the art you get as many interpretations as you can. Get the truest meaning, and then get a completely different truest meaning, and then take that exact same thing and get an entirely different and just as coherent, complete, independent meaning. It's the difference between microwaving a fishstick and knowing how to fish: fishtsticks and superhero movies are made at factories.
If you start to feel the world unraveling at the thought of this dizzying multiplicity, you're imagining that what you imagine is matter. It's not matter--but it's not nothing. All that multiplicity is really going on whether or not you organize it away--you know, like arrange everything onto rational ranked tiers of importance, and declare the contents of the lesser tiers irrelevant, or poison, or whatever it takes to disqualify them. We all contain all that dizzying multiplicity--we contain all chaos and all contradictions, that is a great ability that we have, naturally.
People get sick of arguing and make their own beliefs more absolutist, thinking the more solid and weighty and sharp their belief is, the harder it will be to argue with. But the more absolutist you get, the smaller a nuance it takes to make somebody else's belief incompatible with or antithetical to your own: and you end up with even more reasons to argue. At the same time, the more absolutist you get, the more absurd the idea of the argument ending becomes, because it necessitates your rival eventually responding to their rival's (you)'s escalation with an ever-more-implausibly exaggerated surrender. If you actually try to imagine it in your head--Your rival, surrendering to you because of your well-reasoned and astutely-expressed argument--it's ridiculous.
Use the In-sight: A stand-off between two obdurate absolutists leads just one of two places--stasis or violence. What other outcome is there? The ways to all the other options lie at some distance from absolutism. Maybe not a gigantic distance, but some distance.
When the little kid is being chased by his homicidally deranged Jack Nicholson, what does he do? He walks backwards through his own footsteps and stays quiet. And that's why he lives. He doesn't even punch the dad.
There is a hammock in the Batcher barracks, which is obviously Echo’s, as all the bunks are claimed and clearly belong to the other four. Hunter also states, ‘you’re still new --- you’ll get used to it,’ when Echo comments about the smell of the place. Which means that when Echo first joined and they went back to Kamino, Hunter had to come up with some creative way to include Echo in their barracks without low key telling him to sleep on the couch.
Echo, being accommodating and understanding, probably didn’t mind the hammock and preferred having that clean corner over the wild mess of, well, the rest of it. He’s also placed closer to Tech and Hunter’s side --- closer to Tech than Hunter. Tech’s area is such a mess compared to the small area where Echo’s hammock is. There’s also a cabinet back there that I am 100 % certain holds his manuals and books that he collects over the short time he’s there. His trunk looks like it’s actually on the small space couch back there and he has a cleanly kept area --- as best he can.
I am just soft thinking about Hunter talking to Echo and apologizing for not having something extravagant or even standard like, idk, a bed. And Echo just giving that gd soft smile of his and just jokingly, “It’s better than a stasis chamber. I’ll take it.” I’m soft thinking about them letting him be closer to the window so he doesn’t feel so trapped. I’m soft thinking about Hunter maybe being surprised that Echo’s biggest issue isn’t even his own accommodations, but the fact that their barracks are not up to regulation specs and he wants to clean the place so bad.
Eventually, though the time there is short, Echo learns to stop trying to clean up so much and just chooses to stay in his hammock and read. He ignores it. But I am also sad knowing that Echo was probably barely settling in / getting used to living on Kamino with them ( they live on Kamino and the Marauder from what I can tell --- more so on the Marauder than Kamino ), and then they had to leave. Poor Echo. ;~;
#« out of the stars » ( OOC ) ; #« i can catch up on the reg manuals » ( ECHO HC ) ; #« starry night » ( headcanon ) ; #tbb spoilers ; #[[ not me out here cRYING OVER THE FACT. #THAT ECHO HAS A HAMMOCK #AND IT WAS PROBABLY #HUNTER THAT HELPED HIM OUT #bc dad bro. #Echo is just so polite. #until he's not #he said yeah a hammock is fine #this is fine #but THIS PLACE IS A MESS HUNTER. ]] #long post cw ; #[[ ash crying at work hours. ]] #« spoilers » ;
-Osiris and Saint are giant teddy bears. Osiris brings the warmth and Saint brings the hugs. Whenever one sees you, there must be a hug.
-Cuddles too! Saint is extremely affection. Saint doesn't put those big Titan arms to waste, he makes sure you and Osiris are warm while sleeping.
-Osiris spends more time with you two now since the death of Sagira. He's still grieving, but during work you can't see it. Behind closed doors, Osiris is super emotional.
-Did you want kids? Well too bad. Crow is basically your three's adopted son. Saint takes him on walks through the Last City, Osiris helps him with anything logical and you help him with a bunch of missions. Crow acts like he doesn't care, but Glint tells you otherwise.
-Back in the day, when Osiris and Saint were Vanguards, you three were a Fireteam, taking on the universe.
-You never admit it but you are always distant to the two. The reason for that is because of Osiris' disappearance. When he left into the Infinite Forest, you acted unaffected, but Saint's death hurt more. You were alone, and Osiris never visited.
-Osiris tries his hardest to spend a lot more time with you than Saint. Saint knows exactly why. Like I said, after Saint's death, Osiris never visited, no messages, nothing. He wants to try and mend the wound he created.
-In the relationship, there are secrets and things that scare each other. Saint and Osiris are scared of you being corrupted by the Darkness. When you first wielded Stasis, they saw you change in a way. The glint in your eye was fueled by something more.
-Speaking of Darkness and Stasis, Saint is very against you using Stasis. It often ends in arguments where you leave the shared apartment, slamming the door. Saint hates the Darkness and feels like if he loses you to it, he'll never forgive himself.
-The three of you all have someone you have lost. For Saint, it was his father figure, the Speaker. For Osiris, it was Sagira, his Ghost and assistant. For you, it was Cayde, your best friend and Vanguard (if you are a Hunter) You three help each other heal and comfort when grieving.
-Saint loves having his two favorite people in the Tower with him. He knows that you are usually busy with missions and Osiris is keeping tabs on enemies, he still loves seeing your ship fly into the hangar. And now because of you two, Saint now has someone he thinks of as his son, Crow.
-When you three are all in the Tower, Saint insists on feeding the birds. You'll sit together, feed birds and talk about your days. Often sharing stories and laughing together.
-You and Saint are reckless, and Osiris hates it. He lost Sagira due to recklessness and he can't lose you two. Osiris will often scold you two and comment on your immature personalities, but it makes him smile.
-At the end of the day, you cherish all of your memories with Saint and Osiris. The two gave life to your boring life and now you'll take on every enemy with them on your mind. You've got those two to go home to, and you know they are waiting for you. It couldn't get better than this.
#destiny the game #destiny dating headcanons #destiny 2 x reader #o14#destiny 2 #destiny saint 14 #saint 14 x reader #destiny osiris #osiris x reader #osiris x saint 14 #vanguard #the infinite forest
The flickering was getting more frequent. It didn’t appear intentional, and must have been painful as Luke grimaced each time. It made Reggie sick with rage that it was the most emotion anyone had seen on his face since Julie had brought him home. The spark, the passion, all of that was suppressed under whatever Caleb had done to control him; a passive blankness remained. Food trays came back untouched, questions were answered in the most succinct way possible, with no follow up or return. Any conversation felt like an interrogation. Willie was looking for the files- Caleb was too paranoid to put the information on the HGC servers. If he had, they would have known months ago. The duplication program still functioned perfectly.
Desperate for any kind of answers, Julie and Alex had grabbed Dante, but the man refused to tell them anything useful. He delighted in twisting the knife making snide comments about how their friend had been treated, and that they shouldn’t overwhelm him with choices. Julie had left the last interrogation near tears.
Reggie, however, had realized something. Behind the mocking digs there was a bit of useful information. He caught the nurse just in time, “Here, I’ll take that in,” the nurse smiled and turned away.
Reggie set the tray on the table, looked at Luke sitting in the chair and said in a firm voice “Eat that.” His chest ached when his friend immediately dug in. Don’t overwhelm him with choices? More like you have to tell him what to do.
The door opened and Alex slipped in,”Reg, we need to talk about something. Wow, how’d you get him to eat?”
Reggie felt like his throat was closing, “I told him to.”
Alex swore in German, Reggie glanced over and saw his own anger reflected back at him. “Dante let something slip, we think we know where the files are. Trevor is sending Carrie and Nick to grab them. Julie wanted to go but was told no. She’s mad.”
“I’m sure, but he wasn’t wrong. She isn’t in the right place. She needs to either hit the gym or the music room before she comes here though.”
Alex nodded in agreement, “She was headed to the gym. After she left Dante said something else. He asked if the flickering started, took Trevor’s silence as confirmation and then said ‘you’re almost out of time’. He refused to elaborate. Trevor is talking about calling Mitch.”
“That is the last thing we need,” Reggie snapped, Luke tensed and Reggie forced his tone to be softer, “if Mitch comes, Emily will insist on coming. She cannot be allowed near him.”
“That’s a little intense there, Reg.”
Reggie took a deep breath, Alex doesn’t know what she was like, “It’s not my story to tell, but it wouldn’t be safe for him.”
“We’ll put Julie on it. She has appointed herself his protector anyway.”
A quiet huff of amusement followed that statement and Reggie glanced at Luke to see a small smirk on his friend’s face. He averted his gaze, and made no indication he noticed. Acknowledging those small moments made his friend retreat behind the blankness, but the small flashes of personality were becoming more frequent, and they gave Reggie hope.
“What you need should be in the files. The flickering means my cellular structure is degrading. Caleb miscalculated and the quantum energy is unstable. The stasis chamber helps keep me stable.” Luke’s voice was detached, as if reading an instruction manual.
“What do you mean degrading?” Alex demanded.
“Falling apart. Not sustainable.”
“What happens without a stasis chamber?”
“The flickering continues and eventually I’ll disappear, permanently.”
Reggie looked at Alex and saw the same resolve on his face. That’s not happening.
#this still isn't in chronological order jsyk #because that's not how my brain works #winter soldier au #jatp
i have just realised that it’s not obvious to everyone that spy x family is set in fake east germany...it is called Ostania....Yuri literally is a Stasi officer....they talk about the iron curtain...
#spy x family #to be fair the mangaka clearly didn't put too much research into it #so if you don't know stuff about german history you wouldn't recognise it #but like when they show the map of ostania and westalis it is literally germany lol
Scout reached out, shaking her hand once before retracting his own. “Guess so. You put up a pretty damn good fight though, was a real close one. Wanna head somewhere else though? I dunno how long it’ll be before Shaxx wants us outta this arena.”
“Thanks.” Zorya nodded slightly, setting her shotgun on a belt and throwing it on her back. “I guess we could go to EDZ. I don’t want to freeze on Europa anymore, even though it has the best aura for Stasis.” “She offered.
Sviat appeared next to her and bobbed in the air a little, looking at the Exo. “Nice to see you both in one piece. I’m Sviat.. and that’s Zorya.” The Ghost gestured with a little swing to his Guardian. Sviat liked to do the talking, even when not asked for it. He was well aware Zorya could be rough around the edges sometimes.
#zorya#14 #i hope this is allright :) #feel free to put them somewhere in EDZ
A nice cuppa. A good book full of any kind of knowledge that she could soak into her brain, like a sponge with infinite capacity. A furry, taciturn ginger beast who adored her but hated most others.
A thoughtful word or gesture. It was the little things that really counted. When it came down to it, actions absolutely spoke louder than words. Hermione was a little hard pressed to admit that there were things out there more powerful than words, but there it was.
And if it was a situation she couldn’t content herself in, she removed herself to the best of her ability. She wouldn’t stand for the mistreatment of anyone or anything at this point of her life.
That was how she found herself curled up on a blanket on a windy but clear night near the end of August, on the roof over Ginny’s room at the Burrow. There was a steaming mug of orange tea under a stasis charm by her hip, and an open book on Muggle medicine resting against her ribs. Her amber eyes flittered aimlessly across the constellations. She’d been trying to read up and learn more about certain medical diseases and treatments before she went back to Hogwarts, but didn’t currently have the concentration she needed to focus on learning.
Hermione had been hiding on the roof for over two hours, since well before the sun went down. It was an unusually cool summer night, and she wanted some peace and quiet. Which was extremely difficult to come by on any average day at the Burrow, but was proving to be even more challenging this day.
Because today, Hermione had broken up with Ron.
She felt awful about it, honestly.
But these days, Hermione didn’t have space inside of herself to waste on things that exhausted every last straw of her patience or made her feel like she was supposed to be living her life to please anyone else.
Two weeks after the Final Battle, Hermione still hadn’t recovered from some aches and pains as quickly as she should have. She hurt all over, and every day had only seemed to get worse. More exhaustion, difficulty breathing at times, and extra bruises. She’d gone to St. Mungo’s, talked to Slughorn for pain potions and done her own research on what could be wrong when she had the energy to do so.
It hadn’t occurred to her that it could be a non magical affliction until Harry had suggested it. Hermione could have smacked herself. Within the the week, she’d gone to a Muggle doctor, not extremely worried and hoping to get some answers. Ron had come with her, and they’d run some tests. Her life had changed forever in the span of the time it took the cooly empathetic elderly woman to speak five words.