#Assignment Help in Austria

[hellothetutorshelp-blog]

Assignment Help in Austria

Learning in Austria can be an unforgettable experience. Austria is famous for its good education, natural landscape, and rich culture. However, university life isn't always smooth, particularly when it comes to assignments. All the students have difficulties with time management, understanding complicated things, or completing assignments in English. Thus, The Tutors Help provides unique and cheap assignment help in Austria.

Why Austrian Students Require Assignment Support?

Austria is the country of origin for most foreign students seeking higher studies in top-rated institutions such as the University of Vienna, Graz University of Technology, and Innsbruck University. Academic standards in such institutions are good. Students require to submit good-structured, well-written, and well-researched assignments.

However, students typically face difficulties such as:

Language Barriers: Foreign English speakers find it difficult to write academic assignments in English.

Time Pressure: The students can study and work part-time, therefore they might not have enough time to complete assignments.

Hard Subjects: Computer science concepts, finance, law, and medicine might be difficult to comprehend and interpret.

No Composition Skills: Some of the students lack skills like composition of essays, citations, or academic tone.

These factors might prevent the students from completing assignments within timely submission and achieving good grades.

How The Tutors Help Assists the Students in Austria

The Tutors Help stands ready to ease your college existence. We extend assignment help for all your topics and courses of study in Austria. Our motivation is to help you master your subject better and enhance your grade under the learned guidance.

Following is what we have in readiness for you

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How to Get Started

Getting assignment help from The Tutors Help is easy:

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Final Words

If you are a student in Austria and struggling to finish your work, worry not. The Tutors Help is here to assist you step by step. If you need assistance in the area of research, writing, or even editing, our experts can be capable of assisting you.

We will assist you in saving time, lowering stress levels, and enhancing academic performance. Chat with The Tutors Assistance today and receive the perfect assignment assistance in Austria!

[rankedtutors]

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[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Captain America: The First Avenger

March 10, 1917 - James Buchanan Barnes is born.

August 15, 1917 - Howard Anthony Stark is born.

July 4, 1918 - Steven Grant Rogers is born.

April 9, 1919 - Margaret "Peggy" Carter is born.

Why 1919 (deleted scene from The Avengers) and not 1921 (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), as stated in Wikipedia: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is not canon for the MCU (events of the show take place in another universe, where Peggy was born in a different year and had a different background).

1934-1936 - young Peggy serves as a nurse in the British Air Force.

1936-1940 - Peggy serves in the Special Air Service.

1940:

Peggy joins the Strategic Scientific Reserve.

Howard founds Stark Industries and becomes its CEO.

May 1941 - Steven Rogers attends a Dodgers vs The Phillies baseball game at Ebbets Field, Brooklyn.

March 1942 - Red Skull invades Norway and extracts the Tesseract.

1942/1943 - The Allies receive a gift from Wakanda: Vibranium. It is given to the SSR's Head Engineer - Howard Stark.

1943:

June 14:

13:50 - Steve gets his last 4F.

And his last beating in the alley a couple of hours later.

Evening - he and Bucky go to the "World Exposition of Tomorrow", where Howard demonstrates his (almost) flying car. Steve meets Dr. Erskine and gets a (falsified) 1A.

June 15:

Sergeant James Barnes heads to Europe with the 107th Infantry Regiment.

Candidate Rogers begins his trial week for Project Rebirth at Camp Lehigh in NJ.

June 21 - Dr. Erskine makes his choice and informs Rogers. They talk about it, about the serum and HYDRA.

June 22, morning - Steve becomes a super soldier. Erskine is killed. The last vial of serum is destroyed.

June 23:

Rogers is offered a position in the USO theater (to help sell war bonds) and receives a (fake) rank of captain.

Night - SSR (including Peggy and Howard) is being retasked to fight HYDRA and goes to London, UK.

July-October - Captain America's US tour (over 200 performances).

November 3rd:

Captain America show in Italy.

Night - Steve goes behind the lines to a HYDRA camp in Austria to rescue Bucky with the help of Peggy and Howard.

November 5th - he returns with 400 (CATFA) or 163 (CATWS) liberated soldiers.

A couple of days later - SSR in London. Based on the locations of HYDRA bases remembered by Rogers, they develop a plan to combat HYDRA. Steve puts together a team.

Marvel Studios' mistake: the medals and badges Steve wears don't make any sense at this particular moment. He simply had neither the time nor the opportunity to earn the Combat Infantry Badge, or the Presidential Unit Citation Badge, nor could he receive the American Defense Service Medal.

Next day, 8 am- Steve meets with Howard and receives his vibranium shield.

1944:

November 1943 - November 1944 - Howling Commandos destroy HYDRA weapons factories.

December 1944 - January 1945 - attack on the train with Dr. Zola. Bucky falls from the train from a great height and is declared killed in action. Zola is captured.

1945:

Soon after, early January - the Valkyrie is finished and ready to attack major US cities. SSR receives information about the location of HYDRA's main base in the Alps and heads there.

Next day - SSR attacks HYDRA's main base. Red Skull teleports to Vormir. The Tesseract is lost in the Arctic Ocean. Crash of the Valkyrie. Steve goes into suspended animation.

After January 1945 - Howard Stark leads expeditions to find Rogers. He finds the Tesseract, but not Captain.

March 23, 1945 - Case №17 is opened. James Barnes "joined" the HYDRA branch in the USSR.

May 8, 1945 - VE-Day.

Spring-Summer 1945 - Howard is involved in the Manhattan Project.

1946:

December 1945/January 1946 - Peggy is assigned to the SSR office in New York.

March 1946 - events of "Agent Carter" one-shot.

2012:

Early 2012 - 67 years later, Steve Rogers is found frozen but alive.

April 2012 - Rogers wakes up in the S.H.I.E.L.D. recovery room in New York City.

MCU Timeline: The Infinity Saga

[ao3lestappeninchident]

I'd totally love to read about Kenan Yildiz tbh, maybe something where is away for Euro24 and fem!reader had to stay home. So he misses her sosososo much, and one evening he gets a call from her and while they talk she enters the room, surprising him with a surprise visit 😂

A/N: Hope you like it. First time writing about football players.

tagged: @adrianakimberly @usuiswifelol

Kenan Yildiz x fem!reader

Kenan was in Germany for the Euro cup and you couldn't be more proud of your boyfriend. He worked so hard for this and it finally paid off.

The problem is that you weren't able to make it to his games. You had your last assignments for college and your job, so you planned on watching them from home. It was painful being away from each other for so long and you wished nothing more to be there for him.

So that is what you did.

That evening, you two were talking on the phone. You had made up an excuse to not use your camera, so you could surprise him. His teammate, Arda, had helped you plan it, sending all the information about the stay and schedule to you.

"You were good today. Congrats on the win." You say as you walked through the streets of Hamburg towards the hotel that Arda send you.

Kenan was laying on his bed, hair damp from the shower he took. "Thank you. The next game is against Austria, so it would be more difficult I think, but we can do it." He explains. "How was your day?"

You had to check your google maps to look at which way to go, before answering, "It was good. It wasn't really busy in the store, so that was calming for once." That was of course a lie, as you didn't work today and took a flight to Germany. "I started reading this book, it is quite interesting."

"That sounds nice. You have to tell me about it when you finish it. Love to hear you talk about it." he let out a yawn, tired from the game he just played. It was past midnight and he should really get some sleep.

"I wish you could be here," Kenan said with sadness in his voice.

You smiled as you walked along the hallway towards the door of his hotel room, "What if I am?"

Kenan wanted to ask you what you meant before hearing the knock on his door. He dropped the phone and ran towards it to open it. You stood there, the phone still by your ear. "You're here." He smiles, happy tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you.

You put the phone away and hugged him back, "Hello, honey." you kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. He pulled away to cup your face and kiss you. You laugh against his lips as he pulls you closer. You had to remind yourself that you were still standing in the door opening and someone could walk past you.

"Lets get inside first, Kenan." He nods and lets you inside, closing the door behind you. He took your jacket and bag from you and put it away. You took of your shoes before walking further.

As he came back in the room, Kenan wrapped his arms back around you. "I missed you so much." you hadn't seen each other in two weeks, apart from the face timing, but it felt like eternity. "I missed you too."

"How did you manage to get here? I thought you had work and school." he sat you both down on the couch, playing with your hair.

"I did, but I exchanged my shift and took some time off, so I am able to come and watch you play the next match. School is over, I finished the last project, so i have a summer holiday." your head was laying on his chest as he watched you speak. You saw him trying hard to stay awake for you, but you knew he wanted to sleep.

He lets out another yawn, "I am happy that you could make it."

"Lets get to bed. You are tired, you should get some sleep after that game." he nods and led you to the bedroom.

After you changed and got ready for bed, he grabbed you close to him. "Good night."

[latenightdaydreams]

ei, então.. pensei em algo como Trucker König! leitor x que está viajando há dias, talvez tentando fugir ou apenas conseguir algum lugar para recomeçar sua vida, ela está tão desesperada e desorientada que não percebe os avanços do caminhoneiro rude e carente por uma empresa que ele possa foder sem se preocupar, talvez ele seja um pouco carinhoso com ela, só para não assustá-la no início. é isso :3

Okay, so google translate wasn't helpful and I only know Spanish so i hope this is CLOSE to what you wanted? I kept it fluffy because of the heavy topics. Again, I'm sorry if I didn't translate it right!🩷

.

.

Fluff so all welcome!

>cw: fem/afab, fluff, talk of traumas but no details

1.4k word count

For more click here!

Trucker!König x Runaway!Reader

König had recently retired from the military and taken a job as a trucker. It gave him a chance to see a slower pace and side of the country he always found relaxing during his military travels. Struggling with PTSD he had one final break down that lead to his early retirement. This being his first out of country assignment, to travel from Austria into Germany, he was excited to just relax on the road and be able to clear his mind. That’s how he thought it would go at least.

He saw you. Scared and clearly disoriented. König slows to a stop and pulls off the side of the road before getting out. He is aware of his size and the fact his face is covered in scars, so he tries to approach you like he would a stray dog. Hunching his shoulders he calls out, “hallo Fräulein, geht es dir gut?”

You turn with a face full of fear and tears streaming down your checks. You see a giant man speaking to you in German, a language you don’t know, and begin to cry harder.

This breaks Königs heart, he didn’t mean to cause you even more distress. He stops walking and watches you as he stands still sobbing.

“Are you okay?” He asked in English this time.

You look up registering it and you shake your head no.

He gets a better look at you and can see that your clothes are dirty and that you look like you’ve been traveling on foot for a while now. He looks around to see if you’re alone, you are.

“Miss, are you hurt? Can I help you?” His voice soft as he takes two small steps to you.

You don’t move back but just look at him. Your breathing is shaky as you nod your head again, finally you speak with a foreign accent, “I- I need help.” You begin to cry again and drop to the floor feeling your exhaustion fully take over.

König walks to you and crouches down, “Is it okay if I touch you miss? Only to carry you to the cab of the semi.”

Seeing you this way gives him flashbacks to all the disoriented women and children that would get caught in a bombing or were kept as prisoners. You have the same broke look in your eyes and he feels the overwhelming want to save you.

“It’s okay…” Your voice so meek as you just lay there.

König reaches out and scopes you up gently, as if you were made out of paper and walks you back to the cab. He buckles you in and makes sure that you’re comfortable before walking around to the drivers’ side and getting in.

He goes to the back of the cab to the cooler he keeps there and grabs a water and a sandwich he had made for himself.

“Here, please drink and eat. There is more if you need it.” He hands them to you as you look up at him.

Slowly you extend you hands to grab the food items from him. You look at them for a while them over to him as he sits down in the driver seat.

“Why are you being so nice?” You question him, not trusting it’s out of the kindness of his heart.

“Because you need help and its just the right thing to do.” His gaze is genuine as he smiles at you.

You take time to notice the scars on his face and arms, implying that maybe he has also had a hard life. You open the water and begin to chug it, it had been almost a full day in the sun without a drink. König watches you without saying a word as you chug the water bottle, he gets up and grabs you a second one quickly. You begin to open the sandwich as he changes out your empty bottle for the new in the lap. Slowly taking your first bit you watch him again.

His pale blue eyes met yours again, “Is it okay if I ask you why you were out here alone like this?”

You chew the bite of food that you had in your mouth as you decide if you want to open up to the stranger you just met.

“I only ask because I can tell you’re not from here, and you’re in pretty bad shape. I just… want to make sure nothing happened or…” He leaves the question open ended not wanting to push too much and make you uncomfortable.

You stay quiet and continue to eat, he takes the hint and nods. He isn’t mad, he just hopes he didn’t push too much. Starting the truck again, he pulls back off on to the road and begins to drive.

“So, where is your destination?” König looks over hoping the change in topic will help you begin to talk.

“I don’t have one,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“You don’t?” König is shocked to hear this, then where were you going?

“No, I don’t.” You repeat taking a drink of water.

“Well, my job is taking me to Germany.” König looks over at you. You simply nod your head again. “You can stay with me as long as you need. It’s just me anyway. My name is König, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n.” König gives you a smile with teeth this time that show off his sharp K9s.

You finish eating your sandwich and then go take a nap in the back of the cab. There was a small bed with a blue blanket that you cover yourself with. Sleep came to you easily. It had been months since you were able to get a good night of rest and feel safe enough to do so.

Once you wake up you notice that the sun had completely set and it was dark out. You slowly walk back to the passenger seat and sit down. König looks over at you with kind eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

You nod and stay quiet for a moment longer. “Thank you… for helping me, König.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.”

“Can I ask how you got all of your scars?”

König doesn’t like the talk about the past, especially not now. For you though, he is willing to tell you anything. The fact you’re opening up enough to ask his questions makes him smile and feel warm inside.

“I was in the military. I went in at 17 and I just retired last year.” He looks over at you to see your reaction to this information. You had a neutral look on your face but a softer look.

“Now you do this?”

“Ja, it is relaxing. Therapy in a way. I can just drive and forget.”

You look forward out the window as the clear night sky. Stars covering it as there were not many lights here.

“It is beautiful…” You say in a soft voice that makes Königs heart flutter. “So, you’re running away from something too.”

So, she’s a run away?

“I guess so,” König chuckles. “It’s natural to want to run from painful parts of our life.”

You stay quiet and look out at the night sky for a while and König sits with you in the silence.

“I met someone online that said they would help me escape from my abusive home life,” your voice cracks slightly. “I moved all the way here and…they…they…” you begin to cry.

König begins to stop the truck and again to pull off the side of the road. He unbuckles himself and embraces you in his arms. His massive muscular frame embracing you tightly as if he could take all the pain away. He kisses the top of your head as you continue to cry in his arms.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry the people that you were suppose to be able to trust betrayed you. You’re safe now. You can be at home with me.” He rubs your back.

His words cause your walls to come crashing down as you hug him back, clinging to him and melting into his arms. This was the first time in a very long time you felt safe and that someone’s words were genuine. With no where to call your own, you decide to stay with König and see how to trip to and from Germany goes.

Both of you broken people who so happen to cross each other’s paths when you needed someone the most.

[wileys-russo]

puppy love II l.wienroither x reader

its criminal there isn't more fics for her so let me try to mend the gap. also i know that this timeline of laura and leah's ACL and recovery isn't accurate but we're gonna go with it for the sake of the plot!

puppy love II l.wienroither x reader

pulling up outside beth and vivs home you couldn't get out of the car fast enough, unbuckling yourself and quickly shooting out of your seat, locking your car up after you over your shoulder.

"um hello?" you paused at the front door and your eyes widened, looking back to see your older sister glaring at you through the open passenger window.

"sorry!" you breathed out with a wince, racing back and unlocking the car, grabbing her crutches from the back and helping her out of the car and to her feet.

"i told mum you'd be a shit carer." leah grumbled as she hobbled behind you toward the front door. "hey!" you scowled at her over your shoulder before knocking repeatedly on the front door. "you could always go back to mums leah, the options there." you threatened as the blonde held her hands up in apology but rolled her eyes the moment you turned around.

"you know it's not going to open any faster the more you knock on it woman!" beth pulled the door open with a teasing grin, opening her arms for a hug as you only darted inside and right past her. "get used to it she's useless." leah sighed, accepting beths hug as the shorter blonde chuckled.

"she's in love, what do you expect eh?" "she almost dropped me down the stairs this morning because her phone went off with a text from you know who!" leah recounted with a deeply annoyed frown as beth laughed and helped the taller girl inside.

"hey there is a speed limit in this house you know lieve." your taller team mate teased affectionately as you raced down the hallway, stopping in your tracks to smile at viv apologetically and give her a hug.

"oi why's she get a hug and i don't! you're not supposed to have favorites." beth protested as she and leah appeared, you rolling your eyes playfully and hugging the needy blonde who patted your back. "see? now was that so hard."

"none of you are my favorite. i'm actually trying to get to her now if you don't mind?" you stated bluntly, ignoring their teasing's as you headed down the hall toward your girlfriends temporary bedroom. laura having moved in while she recovered from her acl injury, her family all in austria she'd been somewhat adopted by the two older women she was now living with.

"you two behave and remember she is injured yes?" viv warned semi seriously at your retreating figure. "yeah no funny business, i mean it!" you heard leah yell sternly after you as you paused to flip her off, grateful she was injured as she blonde shot you a murderous glare, knowing if she had two good legs she'd be swiftly after you.

much as you loved one another fiercely you also fought like cat and dog growing up, your older sister relentlessly torturing you at times but if reminded of that she'd simply claim she was 'helping you toughen up'.

and thats not to say she wouldn't and didn't rain down hell on anyone else who dared mistreat you growing up.

now older the two of you got along much better and had played for the same club for years, but you still got on one anothers nerves every now and then as sisters do, especially now you were assigned as her primary carer while she recovered from her own acl.

distance really does make the heart grow fonder so when leah had needed to move in with you to assist with her rehab, the lack of personal space for either of you had meant the silly arguments increased.

then when your girlfriend had gone and done her acl and needed to move in with beth and viv, the lack of quality time the two of you now faced had worsened your mood.

the two of you were a relatively new pairing after crushing shamelessly on one another for months, sharing shy smiles and bashful glances, both assuming the other would never feel the same way.

eventually laura grew tired of wondering and made her move asking you out, much to the relief of your entire team who were fed up with the mutual pining. and now happily dating you were both still very much so in the honeymoon phase, positively obsessed with one another like giggly lovesick teenagers.

escaping the other three women you knocked on your girlfriends door, hearing her call to come in as you stepped inside, the blonde on the bed perking up as you quietly closed the door, ignoring viv and beth who yelled to keep it open.

"hi liebling." laura grinned, pulling herself to sit up as you dumped your bag on the end of her bed. "hello lover." you grinned back, the girl making grabby hands at you as you carefully settled yourself on the bed beside her, the two of you hugging tightly.

"i missed you." you mumbled into her shoulder as the blonde repeated the words back to you and you sat there in one anothers embrace for a moment before disconnecting.

"oh i have presents for you." you suddenly remembered, clapping happily as you shuffled down the bed and grabbed your bag. "but it is not my birthday?" the blonde frowned in confusion, thick accent you had fallen hard for prominent in her words.

"this, and these, and this, and this, and these and this." you unloaded snack after snack onto the duvet, your girlfriends face softening as she practically melted into a puddle seeing all of her childhood favorites spread out on the bed.

"where did you get them?" she breathed out, touching at the austrian treats and picking them up gently as if they could crumble at her touch. "an international sweets store online, they arrived yesterday." you explained, heart swooning at how much the blondes face lit up at each item she touched.

"oh lau." you cooed, leaning in to wipe a stray tear from the girls face as she again pulled you into a tight hug, burying her face into your shoulder as you gently rubbed her back.

"i love you." the blonde mumbled into your top, the three words making your heart skip a beat, the same way they did the first time you'd exchanged them just a couple of weeks ago. "i love you too." you beamed as she pulled away.

"i love you more." the blonde challenged as you settled into the bed beside her, careful not to knock her bandaged leg which was propped up on a pillow. "i love you most." you countered, grabbing her hands and messing around with her fingers as your head slumped to her shoulder.

"i lov-" "god please stop this is disgusting."

"leah! get out." your head swiveled to your older sister with a scowl as the girl leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. "hi leah!" laura greeted happily, the older blonde unable to refrain from sharing her smile at the younger girls infectious enthusiasm.

"well you've said your hellos. now get out!" you ordered again, pointing behind her as your scowl deepened and lauras warm hand rested on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"viv said door open, have some manners i'm just the unfortunate messenger." your sister rolled her eyes before knocking on the now open door to prove her point and stepping out. "and you should be using your crutches!" you yelled out sternly after her, her middle finger popping back inside the door frame before she left again.

"hey-" your girlfriend squeezed your hip again to gain your attention, mumbling something in german as her thumbs smoothed out the deep frown embedded in your eyebrows. "hey i'm a beginner i don't know what that means." you pouted, the blonde having been slowly tutoring you to learn the language, however it was indeed a slow process.

"i said stop frowning or you will get wrinkles." she teased making you scoff and gently smack her chest. "excuse me? rude." you shook your head before glancing down to her leg.

"please do not ask, i am sick of everyone asking how it is feeling." the blonde spoke with a rare show of vulnerability before you could, her normally smiley exterior cracking for a second as her eyes glazed over.

you nodded wordlessly in understanding before leaning over to peck sweetly at her lips several times making her laugh. "proper one now meine liebe." she grinned, dipping her head slightly and pressing her mouth to yours eagerly.

"lau." you warned pulling away as she attempted to tug you to straddle her lap. "what? these are not my knee. these are strong!" she smacked at her thighs with a cheeky smile making you roll your eyes playfully at her insistence.

"no." you shook your head firmly, trying to resume the previous kiss as she craned her head back. "yes." she argued still with a smile, your top balled in her fists not allowing you to pull any further away. "no." you repeated with another shake of your head, flicking playfully at her ear.

"why not!" the defender pouted, just wanting your body as close to her own as she could get, the time the two of you were able to spend with just one another less and less since you had both adopted your new roommates and responsibilities.

"you know why." you stated a little more firmly this time, hands moving to rest on her cheeks with a soft smile. "i told you, these are strong! they do not call me tiny tank for no reason yes?" the girl beamed, her hands on your hips still trying to move you as you rolled your eyes and carefully swung one leg over her lap, hovering above her resting on your knees.

"hello!" she greeted happily as you sighed dramatically but leant in to reconnect your lips, your girlfriends hands roaming your body as yours rested on her shoulder.

"dinner!"

you squealed as you fell sideways on the bed, laura quickly shoving you off of her as footsteps sounded down the hall and viv poked her head in. "dinner is ready." the dutch woman announced, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the two of you as you both sent her an innocent smile.

"mmm." she hummed and motioned for the two of you to get up before she left the room. "babe you almost pushed me off the bed!" you glared at the blonde beside you who smiled charmingly, mumbling an apology as she pressed kiss after kiss to your lips.

"stop the kissing and come and eat before it gets cold!" viv yelled out sternly again from down the hall as the two of you pulled away and paused before breaking out into laughter.

"come on." you rolled off the bed and stood, motioning for your girlfriend to get on your back as she swung her body to face yours. "i worry one day i will snap these chicken legs of yours." your girlfriend tutted but carefully climbed up onto your back.

"hey they're genetic!" you defended, both your siblings also sporting the classic williamson noodle legs. "just you wait, some more time and i will be back to carrying you around again with my strong legs liebling." the austrian patted your head mockingly.

"would you like me to drop you?" "that is my worry yes." "oh shut up!"

~

"and where are you two off to? you don't want to watch a movie?" beth questioned as laura draped her arm over your shoulder and you both began to head back to her room.

"we do want to watch a movie, just not with you." laura answered with a teasing smile and beth gasped, clutching a hand to her chest in mock offence. "did you hear that? i think my heart just broke!" she sobbed, burying her face in vivs shoulder who rolled her eyes at the theatrics and shoved her away.

"vivianne!" "what? you are annoying sometimes, i don't blame them."

"come get me whenever you're ready to leave." you spoke up angling the comment to your sister who raised her drink in understanding, mouth full of popcorn. "door open please!" viv called out as the two of you slowly made your way back down the hallway.

"we're adults!" you and laura yelled back in sync before bursting out into laughter and sharing a kiss, a small smile forming on the dutch womans face at the sight before the pair of you disappeared into laura's room, half closing the door.

after a prolonged argument over which movie to put on you'd settled on something neither one of you particularly wanted to watch, both with the same activity in mind you'd rather be doing instead.

which is how it came to be you peeked your head down the hallway, seeing the other three engrossed in their own movie, and ever so gently closed laura's door.

with a grin you bounded back to the bed, laying down beside your blonde lover and leaning in to press your lips against hers, her arms flushing your bodies closer together as you pulled her hair out of its messy bun and tangled your fingers in the silver strands.

you withheld a moan as her mouth moved toward your neck, the defender nudging your chin up with her pointer finger to give her more space to access.

"we said door open! laura you need to put your leg up!" the two of you jumped apart as the door flew open and viv flew in, crossing her arms and motioning for the two of you to separate. laura muttering in annoyance under her breath in german, sitting up slightly with a huff as you gently moved her leg to prop up on the pillow at the end of the bed.

"behave, i do not care if you are in love you need to be careful!"

and with that she was gone again, laura collapsing into you with a pained sigh, her silver blonde hair tickling at your nose as you pressed an affectionate kiss to her warm forehead.

with either viv or beth popping their head in every ten or so minutes to 'check up on the two of you' it burst the bubble of warm kisses and sweet giggles you tried to let consume you, and so you'd settled for trying the selection of austrian treats you'd bought for the blonde, laura giving a running commentary on each one.

"hey!" you gasped as she held out a piece of chocolate for you but right as you reached out to take it she popped it into her own mouth with a smirk. "want to taste it?" she teased, puckering her lips as you couldn't help but grin and lean in.

"jesus please do not taste it."

"leah!" you scowled at your sister who was once again leaning in the door frame with a look of disgust. "viv said i have to stand here while she and beth do the dishes." leah mumbled with a deep seeded frown, folding her arms over her chest.

"oh my god lee please go away!" you whined, throwing a cushion toward her which bounced lamely across the floor. "oh believe me i want to! but beth took my phone and won't give it back unless i stand here." the older blonde huffed, eyes dropping to the array of food laid out on the bed.

"want some?" laura offered kindly as you smacked her leg unimpressed. "oh fine! come on." you sighed and made room for your older sister to sit with the two of you on the bed, laura's running commentary now repeated toward leah as she handed her various different treats to try.

~

"come on juliet you can kiss romeo at training tomorrow, lets go!" leah yelled out and clapped impatiently from where she was leaning against your car waiting as you exchanged kiss after kiss with the blonde in the doorway.

"i love you." "i love you more." "i love you most." "i love you-"

"we get it you're both sickeningly in love now lets go!" leah yelled out again with a groan, dragging her hands down her face as you placed one more sweet kiss to the austrians lips and turned away.

"honestly you're both so obsessed with one another its disgusting-" leah started as she carefully slid into the car and you placed her crutches in the back, closing the door after you and clicking in your belt.

"-but it's nice to see you so happy." your sister sent you a sincere smile which you returned gratefully as you started up the engine.

"oh look, it has a heart." you wiped a fake tear from your eye, dampening the sweet moment. "leah!" you yelped as she landed a firm punch to your arm at the comment.

"you just couldn't let us have a nice sisterly moment could you." "you just assaulted me and it's my fault we can't have nice moments?" "oh toughen up don't be such a wuss." "when my girlfriend has two good knees again...i'm gonna get her to kick your ass."

[thesilverdiary]

Non Authorized Version

⤷ Summary: Anneliese learns that sometimes the hardest part isn't making sense of the data — it's making sense of herself. Far from the kind of assignment she'd like to cover, she faces an event that seems to speak in codes she still doesn't have access to. But every step out of place can carry more than just bring awkward moments. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the detours that reveal where the real journey begins.

⤷ Author’s note: When I wrote Toto in this chapter, I had these two references in mind. This photo of him at Interlagos is one of my favorites. If not, the favorite. The expressions, I mean—come on. And this other shot of him at some event back in the day? This one really helped bring the vibe I was going for.

⤷ Special warnings for this second chapter? Oh, hm, no. Again. No explicit content, but a quiet emotional tension simmers beneath the surface. Mild impostor syndrome, accidental identity swapping, and moments of quiet introspection in unfamiliar hallways. Also: financial conferences, cold coffee, and the art of pretending you belong. Back in the old days. Third person.

⤷ Chapters: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV.

Last but not least, if you want to, you can read this on Wattpad and AO3 as well. 

⤷ Words: 3,597. 

Chapter Two | We Started Before The Hello

📍 Vienna → Innsbruck, Austria. 2007.

While reviewing some bullet points from the article she was writing, Anneliese was getting ready to send it to Oliver, the editor-in-chief, who would give it one final review before publication.

From the corner of her ear, she caught fragments of a conversation in the hallway. The newspaper editor was speaking enthusiastically about an event that would soon shake up Austria’s investment market.

“The conference in Innsbruck is going to be decisive,” said a firm male voice.

Probably Oliver himself.

“Do you really think they’ll announce the opening to non-EU capital?” replied a woman, her tone softer but full of interest.

“I bet they will. The timing is perfect. The euro is stable, expansion to the East is ongoing... and Vienna is pitching itself as the new Zurich.”

“And the coverage?”

“I want the article ready by Thursday. Interview with an analyst, two deep background quotes, and a side box explaining the Slovenian banks. No guesswork.”

Austria was going through a period of economic effervescence. The global landscape was favorable, and internally, the country displayed enviable stability.

Vienna, more than ever, was establishing itself as a regional financial hub — a kind of safe harbor for capital coming from neighboring emerging economies.

At the time, Anneliese would have done anything for a chance to write. Any topic would do. It didn’t matter if it was something mystical and nearly forgotten — like the legendary Rauhnächte, those wild nights that whisper between Christmas and the start of the new year —, pieces about the cold flowers that resist winter, or chronicles about the frozen ball season, with their light-filled halls and echoes of restrained footsteps.

The truth was, all she needed was a chance. An opening. A place where her writing could breathe. She wanted — and more than that, needed — to be seen.

Enjoying the topics? Not at all. But that phase of life demanded flexibility: accepting what came, even without passion, because saying “no” was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Opportunities were scarce. And while she was still finishing college, many her age were already in the workforce — graduated, experienced, occupying positions she could barely glimpse from where she stood.

Time, and everything it dragged along with it, taught Anneliese a valuable lesson: knowing how to distinguish between instinctive talent and what was simply necessary. She learned to recognize her own impulses — those that didn’t come from duty, but from genuine enthusiasm — like when she immersed herself in the technical details of a race, in the unique language of engineers and drivers, in decisions made at 300 km/h.

That’s when something in her would come alive. Everyday tasks, on the other hand, came stripped of emotion, but loaded with deadlines and demands.

She wanted to write with the precision and pulse of someone who understands what’s at stake, even in the seconds before a decisive move.

Even unwillingly, she decided to open up. Not because she had given up on the dream, but because she understood that maybe it required more paths than she had imagined. Maybe writing about the improbable today would teach her how to more truthfully narrate the races of tomorrow.

A chair scraped with a shrill squeak.

“Is the Economics team going to that conference?” Lukas asked, already taking a seat.

“I think so,” Anneliese replied, still looking at the screen. “I heard Oliver mention something about credentials... didn’t really pay attention.”

“Big deal, huh?”

She turned to face him, curious.

“I don’t know. I just hear all these names and acronyms and already feel kind of lost.”

She gave a brief, slightly tired smile.

“Tell me about it.”

Lukas took a sip of his coffee — already cold — and grimaced.

“Must be weird to follow all of this from the outside. Feels like a different world.”

Anneliese furrowed her brow but said nothing.

“Anyway,” he said, getting up. “Good luck with the article.”

“Thanks. I... think.”

She stayed there for a moment, motionless, the cursor blinking on the screen. She had lost the thread of the sentence. Suddenly, the paragraph felt... too shallow.

...

She still remembered her boss’s words as if they echoed inside her with more force than a mere piece of constructive criticism.

“You need to like people,” he had said, with that tone that blended patience and judgment. “To mingle with them.”

As if it were easy.

The problem wasn’t liking people — it never had been. She did like them. She always had. But being among them was another story. In any environment, no matter how welcoming, she felt like a temporary visitor, someone who was only there by mistake. As if there were an entire world spinning on social codes she had never learned to decipher.

It was like not being among her own.

She had always been drawn to understanding people. Writing them. Watching from a distance, with that quiet gaze of someone trying to piece together a human puzzle using only expressions and gestures. But even with all that curiosity, there was an emptiness she couldn’t name.

And it was in that void that Christine stepped in with what she called “the last-minute great idea.”

With seconds left on the clock.

Christine was her supervisor — and in many ways, the journalist she aspired to become. Her writing carried a lightness, almost invisible, and yet it held truths that hurt just the right amount.

She was meticulous. And clearly uninterested in the event they were now caught up in.

Still, she said, like someone laying out the strategy for a decisive game:

“It’s going to be good for both of us.”

She sounded convinced. As if she had found a miraculous escape route from what, for her, was just another chance to socially crash and burn.

Was it crazy? Yes.

But at that moment, it also felt like the chance Anneliese had been waiting for.

...

Despite it being a golden opportunity, Anneliese almost turned it down.

The event exuded a cold formality, overly technical, as if it pulsed on a frequency her body didn’t know how to tune into. There was a layer of language there — made of authority, of protocols, of silences — that she didn’t know whether to absorb or simply observe from the outside, like someone visiting a museum filled with artifacts from an era they’d never lived through.

She was in that strange stage of youth when you understand — at least in theory — that a good journalist should know a bit about everything... but you still wrinkle your nose, as if that “bit” were enough, as if admitting ignorance were a luxury pride couldn’t afford.

Youth, huh?

So full of fragile certainties, so quick to reject what it doesn’t yet understand.

In the end, someone had to go. And one of the first lessons in a career — or in life, perhaps — is this: in the beginning, you don’t get to choose. Others choose for you.

Had she been able to choose? Maybe she’d have gone for something more straightforward, more in tune with the language she already knew. But despite herself, that invitation turned out to be the best door that could have opened.

Because sometimes, what changes us comes precisely from what we try to avoid.

When she arrived at the event, Anneliese wasn’t expecting anything easy — but she did expect, at the very least, a minimum of control. A careful glance, a request for ID, a checkpoint that would say: “Yes, you’re authorized to be here.”

She fiddled with the ring on her index finger — an automatic gesture that always resurfaced when she felt out of place.

But surprisingly, no one asked for anything. No names checked against lists, no inquisitive stares. Just a vague nod, a silent pass.

Different times? Maybe.

As she searched for a row where she could observe, take notes, and — perhaps — understand something of what would unfold at the Summit on European Economic Futures, Anneliese weaved through suits, folders, and impatient glances. The room, lit by a white and restrained glow, gave off an almost clinical sobriety. Everything felt foreign — in the gestures, in the voices, in the very atmosphere.

That’s when she felt the elbow in her back. A direct, firm, dry impact.

She turned on reflex. Her clipboard slipped from her hands, and the papers scattered across the polished floor with a noise that, to her ears, sounded amplified. A paper alarm, announcing her inadequacy.

“Sorry,” said the man who’d bumped into her, without pausing his phone call. The bulky BlackBerry in his hand seemed like an extension of his authority — tiny keys, rapid commands, bored voice. It was an automated apology, socially required.

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly, bending down. Her stomach clenched, as if every scattered sheet exposed not just her anxiety, but her fraud.

He gave her a brief glance, almost clinical.

“Journalist?”

She hesitated. The question seemed too simple.

“Intern with a newspaper,” she replied reflexively — and as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the mistake. That’s not what the badge said.

A chill ran down her neck. She had spoken as Anneliese, not as Christine. For a second, the floor felt less slippery than the situation she’d just stepped into.

Her trembling fingers gathered the papers, but her mind was already working on damage control.

Had he noticed?

She was still straightening the clipboard when another figure approached. The gesture was polite, assured. The presence, precise.

“Christine?” the man asked, extending his hand naturally.

She blinked. The name still sounded borrowed, like a formal outfit that didn’t quite fit.

“Yes,” she said, hurrying to her feet, one paper still misaligned on the clipboard.

“I’m Peter Neumann, from the conference team. Nice to finally meet you. We exchanged quite a few emails, remember?”

She nodded, forcing a smile. Trying to regain control, to remember the right answers, the details she had memorized.

“Of course. Yes. It’s been a hectic few days.”

“I’m glad you made it. Today’s panel is expected to be one of the most talked about.”

In the background, the BlackBerry man ended his call with a brusque gesture. He cast another glance at Anneliese’s clipboard.

“Intern with a news...” he murmured, as if confirming something to himself, though none of it made sense.

She didn’t reply. Just nodded, trying to appear unbothered, as if nothing odd had been said. He walked away without a smile, as if he had erased her from the scene.

Peter followed him with his eyes and, with a slight tilt of his head, indicated the man now heading to the back of the stage. Anneliese followed the gesture, suppressing the urge to ask who he was — despite the familiarity of his face.

“Don’t worry about him. It’s the rush. He arrived late and still happens to be one of the first to speak.”

Anneliese let out a short laugh — more relief than amusement.

“Oh, shi... —” she caught herself, took a deep breath. “Great start.”

Peter gave a half-smile.

“Marchsixteen, fifteen, seventeen,” he murmured, almost theatrically, like someone trying to recall passwords or riddles. After a brief pause, he added: “If memory serves.”

He tried to make it a joke. And almost succeeded.

She smiled. Genuinely, this time. Enough to dissolve, for a moment, the weight of pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

Before she could say anything else, Peter had to excuse himself — someone from the organizing committee was calling him over near the side entrance. Anneliese nodded briefly, taking the opportunity to sit down and finally try to gather herself.

It was one of those moments when, if she could’ve opened a hole in the floor and vanished, she would’ve done it without a second thought.

She chose the third row, slightly off-center, and rested the clipboard on her lap. Her laptop had failed earlier that morning — a black screen and a strange noise she’d pretended not to hear. The pen moved quickly across the paper, but without conviction.

The notes came out crooked, incomplete, as if they were just as lost as she was. She tried to keep her composure. She was good at appearing steady. And at pretending she understood.

Deep down, she believed she could turn anything into a good story. Even if, at that moment, all she could think about was the last poorly written sentence and the tight deadline waiting for her back in Vienna.

The first panel began with an economist from Deutsche Bank discussing opportunities in the Balkan markets. A wave of privatizations, speculative capital flows, Slovenian banks opening aggressive credit lines for foreign investors. Many in the room were scribbling furiously. She copied down the most striking terms — hedge, spread, non-euro zone. She’d look them up later. As always.

The second panel was more technical, but also more tense: it covered Hungary’s fiscal opening and its impacts on the Austrian banking system. Someone mentioned the real estate bubble in the United States and the risk of contagion. The previously enthusiastic atmosphere grew more restrained. Anneliese wrote down only one sentence:

“Today’s stability may be tomorrow’s trap.”

It wasn’t the kind of content she liked to write. But it was the kind she knew she needed to understand.

Then came the third panel: “Calculated Risk: Data-Driven Decision Making.”

The title alone sparked curiosity, but it was the speaker who drew everyone’s attention the moment he walked on stage. Anneliese recognized him immediately — not from reports or financial editorials, but, ironically, from a celebrity magazine she’d once browsed through in a waiting room somewhere.

Toto Wolff. A name still mostly known to those who followed DTM or gossip columns. An amateur driver with surprising results, an early investor, recently established as a partner at HWA — a technical company linked to Mercedes. A man on the cusp of a turning point: from the track to the mechanisms behind motorsport.

He began by talking about failure. Not the companies he’d bet on, nor the strategies that didn’t pay off — but his personal failures.

He said he had tried to become a professional driver. Tried too late. He drove well, won important races, even flirted with records. But the years, the crashes, and the realities of the sport forced him to accept that raw talent might not be enough.

“Giving up wasn’t easy,” he said. “But when I realized I wouldn’t make it by speed, I tried another entry point: calculation.”

That’s how he entered the world of investing — first in tech, then in motorsport.

He spoke about the invisible thread connecting a race team and a startup: risk, pressure, razor-thin margins. He reflected on dealing with losses — not just financial, but directional. On making fast decisions and then living slowly with their consequences.

“I was never the most technical person in the room,” he admitted. “But I learned to endure more than others. And to see what wasn’t yet ready to be translated into numbers.”

...

When the panel ended, Anneliese slipped out through a side door — slipping out quietly, without saying goodbye — as if fleeing more from herself than from the event.

She grabbed a coffee from a neglected table, where the sugar had already run out. A minor detail, but irritating. Yes, it was a habit — and no, black coffee wouldn’t do, no matter how ideal it was meant to be: bitter, direct, without crutches.

She knew where to find shelter. Service hallways, support rooms, forgotten spaces that belonged to everyone and no one. She found one of those — an old press room, now reduced to stacked boxes, deflated plastic cups, and a silence that smelled of worn carpet and disuse.

She needed peace. Five minutes would do. Just her, the coffee, and the sound of nothing.

She stepped in. Closed the door carefully, as if trying not to wake any ghosts. Leaned against the wall, took off her shoes — and for the first time that day, breathed with her whole body.

That’s when he walked in.

“Shit,” he said, tripping over a fallen trash can.

She didn’t even turn.

“If you’re looking for coffee, you’re late,” she replied, with restrained disdain.

“I’m looking for silence,” he shot back, his tone too direct to be just for show.

She recognized the voice before registering the face. She turned slowly.

He was taller than she noticed in the first place. When she was anxious. But the kind that seemed to try and shrink himself, like being noticed was a side effect, not an intention. Handsome, yes, but in a way that didn’t seem aware of it. Or, if he was, he hid it well. Nothing about him tried to draw attention — and maybe that’s exactly why it did.

His features were gentle, almost distracted. There was something about the way he held his shoulders — a quiet tension, a polite hesitation. And his eyes... dark, far too observant. They didn’t challenge, but they didn’t shy away either. They watched with care. With a quiet kind of listening that made everything around feel clearer — or more exposed.

She didn’t know if she liked that kind of presence. But she knew she would remember it.

“Careful,” she said. “In here, even silence listens.”

He smiled, faintly. A half-smile. Like someone who understood — but chose not to answer.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, pointing to the opposite corner.

“It’s not mine. I just invaded first,” she replied with a shrug.

He settled in, taking off his jacket with a slow, almost ritualistic gesture. Like shedding a social version of himself to step into something closer to the truth. The dim light made the room feel almost intimate — but still distant enough not to be a confession.

“What did you think of the panel?” he asked, casually.

“Choreographed,” she answered without hesitation. “Words that polished always hide something.”

He laughed. A short laugh, not mocking — but with something that sounded like recognition.

Before another silence could settle in, a woman appeared at the half-open door. Young, hurried, holding a blue folder and with a walkie-talkie clipped to her waist.

“Is this the press room?” the woman asked, glancing around.

Anneliese opened her eyes slowly, like someone returning from far away.

“It was. Now it’s just storage,” she replied simply.

The woman eyed her badge — crooked and barely stuck — with a frown that settled before deciding if it was suspicion or boredom.

“Christine Schnell Hoffmann?”

Before she could say anything, he stepped in with rehearsed ease:

“She’s with me.”

The woman turned her attention to him.

“And you are...?”

“Wolff. Torger Christian Wolff. Marchfifteen.”

The name had an effect. Not exactly respect — but something close to caution. As if a password had just been uttered.

“Apologies, Mr. Wolff. We’ve had issues with fake invitations. We’re revalidating press access.”

“She’s legit. Working on a piece about young investors in Central Europe. Asked me for a few quiet minutes,” he explained calmly.

The woman hesitated. Then nodded.

“Alright. Just avoid restricted rooms. Programming resumes in twenty minutes.”

As she walked off, Anneliese looked at him, somewhere between surprised and ironic.

“You didn’t have to,” she said.

“I did,” he replied. “You were about to be escorted out for not lying convincingly enough, Miss Newspaper Intern.”

She let out a short laugh, unguarded.

“That was a blatant bluff.”

“Of course it was. But big names scare people when said with confidence.”

“You’re good at improvising.”

“As you are,” he said, then asked: “What’s your name?”

She hesitated.

“Anneliese,” she finally said, in a tone that weighed the cost of revealing it.

He nodded. “Christine is just one of your faces?”

“Christine is a badge. The disguise... is me trying to fit into it.”

He didn’t reply. Just leaned his head against the wall, letting the silence speak for him.

“You don’t like events like this, do you?” he guessed.

She gave a half-smile, tired. “I like watching people who do. That count?”

“It does,” he said. “Might be the best kind of people.”

She observed him for a moment. Then asked:

“Are you writing about this?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “If I find a story.”

“And do you think I’m a story?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t decided if you’re a chapter... or a footnote.”

He laughed, this time for real. “Fair. And what if I’m the preface?”

“Prefaces usually end before they begin.”

“Or they set the stage for everything that follows.”

She glanced sideways at him, almost annoyed at how good the answer was.

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Only when someone’s paying attention.”

He laughed again. A light, honest laugh. And she, despite herself, liked the sound of it.

Silence returned, but now it felt less heavy. As if it had shifted weight.

She looked away, pretending to study the stack of boxes in the corner. But she knew he’d noticed her attempt to hide.

“You’re good at improvising,” he said again, still smiling.

“Only when I have no choice,” she replied, letting the fatigue show.

“Which is... most of the time?” he asked.

She gave a slight nod. “Exactly.”

Outside, hurried footsteps echoed. She looked toward the door, then back at him.

“Program’s about to resume,” she said, softly.

He nodded. “You heading back?”

“I am. Still have to look useful before the day ends.”

He stood, putting his jacket back on calmly.

“Nice meeting you, Anneliese.”

“I guess it was. It was weird. But good,” she replied, with a smile carrying both tiredness and curiosity.

He was about to leave when he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Chapter, for the record. But on an odd-numbered page.”

She smiled, saying nothing. Just filed away the phrase — and the tone — in her mind.

Ready for more? Head to Chapter Three | Out Of Context.

[gremlingottoosilly]

in if you need to be mean, would the reader ever try to escape? and if she did, how would konig react? thinking about like, she planned for a few months how would she escape him, and she feels very conflicted bc she loves him, but she wants freedom and thats the only thing konig would never give her. so when hes away she takes the car and just goes. i dont know where, but shes so desperate te be free again to do whatever she likes without him hovering and always by her side trying to control what she does! would he feel sad? would he be devastated? would he go after her? i know that theres like a 1% chance of it happening but im so curious about how he would react and how it would change their relationship.

anyway, love your fanfics gremlin you're a genius!!! 🫶

Konig made everything in his power to prevent her from escaping without locking her up and breaking her legs, but it doesn't mean he won't do it.

He refuses to let her study German because he moved her to this foreign country without her knowing the language, and he specifically chose a distant tiny town in the middle of the Austrian woods, where not a lot of people know English and therefore, it would be hard for her to communicate. She doesn't have his car keys or a driver's license, he didn't leave her a lot of cash, so she forced to use his cards with updates of withdrawal and spending sent to his account, and she also just has a dependant visa that wouldn't allow her to do independent anyway. Her only way would be speaking to the police and hoping that they would start the investigation. It would be really hard because, well, Austria doesn't really care about immigrant's problems unless it's an international scandal, and Konig would know anyway - because he has cameras in the house, which he doesn't even hide, and if the investigation would die down, or his girl wouldn't go to the police, he wouldn't really break the contract and run to her immediately. He has quite a few friends around, especially if Krueger or Klaus are around and not on deployment with him, so he could ask them to go and visit his...wife. She is scared and a bit hysterical because of the foreign country, so she can tell weird things about kidnapping and escaping, they shouldn't listen to her! Konig won't be so nice when he returns. He really wanted to play this fantasy of having cute little housewife, nice house and a girl that is absolutely in love with him. He knows that you like him, at least, that you didn't want to escape, you're just silly! He infantilised you before, mostly because of the age difference, but it would be even harsher now. You are not allowed to leave the house, he often simply locks you in the bedroom so you won't have anything to do besides waiting for him to return with groceries and fuck you into the mattress. He didn't want to break you leg, but if you keep resisting, he might kinda push you a bit further. He would assign you a no-nonsense older caretaker so you would have company and help while your leg is broken! She also thinks that you have some sort of weird mental illness that made you paranoid and afraid of your husband, so you can't even get help from her. You can forget about going out while he is on deployment either. And he is very reluctant to let you out, even with him, the first few months after your attempted escape. The world is too dangerous for you anyway,

[bruceburgdorf]

The Sergeant who risked everything to aid the Jewish resistance.

Anton Schmid 1900 - 1942

While not as well known as the fate which awaited those bound for the death camps, the Holocaust in Lithuania, largely perpetrated by the Einsatzgruppen, German police units and willing Lithuanian collaborators, bore witness to some of history’s most savage acts of barbarianism.

Still, in the midst of the chaos there were a few individuals among the invading forces acting out of humanity to preserve lives; The previously mentioned Karl Plagge, Oskar Schönbrunner and Alfons von Deschwanden were among those stationed in Lithuania who have been formally recognised for their efforts to save Jews from the mass slaughter which was happening around them.

Another man, Anton Schmid, is remembered in particular for the great risks he took to save others which eventually cost him his own life.

Like Plagge, Schmid was an older conscript assigned to a position behind the front line on the Eastern Front. In his hometown of Vienna, Austria, he had opposed antisemitism prior to the 1938 Annexation and he had physically fought against a man in the street who he had caught smashing the windows of a Jewish owned shop. When the Nuremberg laws became applicable to Austrian citizens he had helped his Jewish friends by aiding them to travel to Czechoslovakia where the German anti-Jewish laws at that time were not yet in force.

Upon his arrival in Vilnius in September 1941 he was assigned reaponsibility of a Versprengten Sammelstelle, an office which oversaw the return or re-assignment of soldiers who had been separated from their units. Some of the men he would encounter were suffering with shell shock and didn’t want to return to the front lines, Schmid was able to help a few of them by reassigning them roles within his department.

In addition to his office he also held responsibility for an upholstery and shoe-repair workshop to serve the Wehrmacht and employed a number of Jews who carried certificates to prove they were essential workers.

Schmid had heard that those without certificates were being taken from the ghetto to be shot and like Plagge and Schönbrunner, in an effort to preserve lives, he too used his authority to increase his number of workers far beyond the actual amount required, employing a total of around 150 people which came to include Russian prisoners of war.

Survivors would later recall that Schmid did his best to provide extra food in addition to the starvation rations, not just for his workers but for their families also.

Although he was only a sergeant, Schmid was allowed to operate without too much supervision from his superiors and since the Wehrmacht was keen to use all resources available to assist with its war effort, including using Jewish civilians for labour, it was possible for his initial actions alone to have passed under the radar but within a short amount of time his resistance efforts would steeply increase.

A Jewish man, Max Salinger, who had traveled from Poland and was not registered in the Vilnius ghetto, came to his workshop and asked him for a job. Unable to issue the man with a work permit like he had done with the others, Schmid gave Salinger a uniform of an enlisted soldier and employed him as a typist in his office.

Part of Schmid’s role was to notify the units of soldiers who turned up in the hospital and he was able to find a corporal there who had died earlier that day with the same first name of Salinger and gave him his papers to assume his identity. To cover his actions, Schmid would falsely report that the soldier had recovered and had been reassigned to his office.

Just days after this event a young woman, Luisa Emaitisaite, approached Schmid for assistance after she had missed the evening curfew in returning to the ghetto. It was unclear whether she had realised in the dark that he was a Wehrmacht soldier but Schmid would shelter her in the spare room of his own accommodation.

Wanting to do more for her he sought the help of a local Catholic priest whose church he had regularly gone to for confession since his arrival in Vilnius. Schmid got on well with the priest since the man had also previously lived in Vienna and they often talked together. He asked the priest if he could issue her with a document which identified her as Catholic and the man agreed to help saying that he could justify the fraud to God since he was saving a life.

The document was typed on official paper of the church and once the German and Lithuanian administration was convinced Emaitisaite was a catholic, Schmid was able to employ her in his office as a typist like Salinger and she was able to live within the city as a regular citizen. Schmid and the priest went on to help more Jews using the same method and he soon had several people hidden in his apartment he was trying to arrange papers for.

Meanwhile, a resistance group had formed within the ghetto and once they had heard that Schmid could be trusted a couple among them approached him for help and Schmid held a meeting in his accommodation with Salinger, in his corporal’s uniform, guarding the door.

The couple asked if Schmid was willing to assist with smuggling Jews from Vilnius to Bialystock in Poland with the aim of joining larger resistance groups from there. Schmid agreed to help and would accompany a small group in a Wehrmacht truck to Bialystock, arranging a signal with Salinger where he would telephone the office from his destination to let him know he had been successful.

This action was repeated several times over the next few weeks and Schmid and the resistance group were able to smuggle 350 Jews out of Lithuania. Some resistance members would later recall that they considered Schmid to have been a friend although they remembered that he had become extremely worn down by his double life and had taken to heavy drinking. When asked if he feared being discovered he replied, “We all must die. But if I can choose whether to die as a murderer or a helper, I choose death as a helper.”

Mordechai Tenenbaum, a member of the resistance, told Schmid he would make sure his name would be remembered after the war. Later Tenenbaum would take part in the Bialystock ghetto uprising where he would be killed.

In January 1942, just a few short months after arriving in Vilnius, Schmid was arrested by the secret field police (GFP) while escorting Jews into neighbouring Belarus and he was imprisoned. When Salinger hadn’t received Schmid’s usual telephone call, the man was able to give warning to the resistance members to stay away from Schmid’s office. With their papers now identifying them as non-Jews, Max Salinger and Luisa Emaitisaite were able to flee the area and both would later survive the war.

Due to many records having been destroyed only fragments of the details of Schmid’s trial remain. The transcript of the trial is missing so it not known exactly what he was charged with, although what is known is that Schmid objected to his own defence when the lawyer provided wanted to claim that he had only acted in the interests of the Wehrmacht in protecting valuable workers from liquidation. Schmid had said that this wasn’t true and that he had acted out of humanitarian reasons as he disagreed with the Nazi’s treatment of the Jews. He was therefore admitting to violating orders given to army personnel to treat Jews as the enemy regardless of sex or age.

In April 1942 Schmid was executed by a firing squad along with a group of soldiers who were charged with cowardice. Shortly beforehand he had written to his wife in prison telling her about everything which had happened since his arrival in Vilnius including the atrocities he had heard about and how he was soon to be shot for his intervention. He would write to her, “I only acted as a human being and didn’t want to do harm to anyone.”

It is not known exactly how many of those that Schmid helped eventualy survived the war but his name was mentioned in several diaries left behind in the Vilnius ghetto.

At the 1961 trial of Adolf Eichmann, Schmid’s name was mentioned by survivor Abba Kovner where he said Schmid had told him shortly before his arrest that he had heard rumours of a man called Eichmann who was said to be one of most senior SS men organising the mass murder of the Jews.

The mention of Schmid’s name at the trial prompted interest in his story. Max Salinger who was then living in Israel, told Simon Wiesenthal that Schmid’s widow Stefanie had faced scorn and violence in the immediate years after her husband’s death and that he had given her some money after the war since she had been denied a war widow’s pension.

Wiesenthal would personally visit Stefanie in Vienna and he helped her to travel to Israel where Schmid was honoured as one of the first Germans to be recognised as Righteous Among the Nations.

The tree planted for Anton Schmid on the Avenue of the Righteous in Israel.

[workingonit-currently]

(Some) Eurovision 2025 contestants as Veryluckyclovers illustrations

Iceland: VÆB This little guy is ready to take on the world via the water. His trendy shades are the perfect pair to complement VÆB's. All chill, no problem.

Austria: JJ Just like JJ, this buddy is a winner (at least in their head). Rest is perfect for Austria's entry if only because it's important and is arguably what helped JJ win in the first place. (I'm joking. But still, vibes~)

Denmark: Sissal You know who else is up to no good? Denmark's Sissal. I have no explanation.

Australia: Go-Jo He's just a little guy. Go-Jo is a very trendy man and so is this seal. Only the most stylish outfits, like this strawberry hat, for the most trendy little guys. The seal also has Go-Jo's little 'tach so another win. I also like to remember how Go-Jo's signature is to kick his leg and nearly do the splits. I find it funny assigning him a creature with no legs, only flippers. (fins?)

Estonia: Tommy Cash From one drinks boy to the next, Mr. Espresso Macchiato deserves a yummy drink. Like he says, "Very importante." This little guy have no stresso, no stresso, as long as there is yummy drink.

Sweden: KAJ I'm not explaining this one. Sauna.

[fafayayarhen]

Please, sire..give Austria headcanons to the poor.. *holds up bowl like a starving British orphan*

hello dear anon i hear you and i come delivering for more Austria ✨️ headcanons ✨️

- A very decent cook but not much at cleaning up after himself! Runs the dishwasher thrice to be completely sure

- The last few times he ever went sailing (visit to mexico during when habsburgs ruled it shortly + when austrian researchers went to new zeland) he was absolutely. Taken aback. How do those two iberians super into seafaring, it's so exhausting. BUT. He learned to enjoy evening walks by the shore in the times he's visiting any countries that are right by the sea, most prominently Spain & Portugal

- If he can live on a diet of pastries alone he would, very particular about his apple strudels and apricot dumplings !!! (incredibly obsessed with the apricot fruit itself)

- He does a teaching gig on the sideline, teaching music. The subjects he teaches are music theory, composition, piano, violin & conducting. He even takes lessons himself whenever he can to flourish his skills further! Very involved with Wiener Philhalmoniker too as a guest performer some couple of times, former resident first chair when he took a long break from his representative duties.

- Very. VERY important: The Sisi films marathon at every Christmas. It's a sacred ritual and one Roderich honours without fail! To say she was one of the empresses he adores and feels sorry for is an understatement... Same goes with his sentiments about Marie Antoinette. And Empress Isabel. And Queen Margaret of Austria (duchy era). Well actually he seems to have this repeated occurrence with the female rulers in his life he feels strongly for, very interesting.

- I didn't get to go into it the last headcanons ask, but piggybacking off of his preference for sabers to wield in the period of swordsmanship, he gained this habit of collecting a variety of blades! Not to use, no, but he collects unique looking swords to grow his collection, much alike the Habsburgs having this. Interesting number of swords; look up the unicorn sword and that other sword with the um, coral reef? Type of hilt? Yeah. So Roderich would have an armoury in one of his estates to display these...

- Given Parov Stelar, mister pioneer of the electro swing genre is Austrian, Roderich was incredibly intrigued with the genre and gave it a listen. It became one of his indulgences from then on. This leads to his music taste gradually growing into this general thing where whilst he always preferes the classical genre, he's opened to listening to plenty others like pop, rock, folk music, but he does have too much feedback to say each time. Levels of breaking the musical construct down and explaining what he can appreciate about the rhythm, the counting, the techniques applied...

- You can tell he's a studious nerd like that. Oh, he is The certified nerd because music is one thing, he's incredibly and scarily good in maths. Calculations you'd need calculators with and somehow he's got equation formulas and can count percentages under seconds. He does sudoku for fun and often when his students lament over their mathematics homework, a 30 minute break would be provided so he could next give a free lesson and help them with their assignments. 😭

- It's obvious he was often involved with ministries that handled the budgeting and auditing of the empirical revenues back in those imperium days, given the crazy amount the Habsburg tend to require and spend (sorry for bankrupting you Spain, it was imperative they secure funds to continue defending against the Ottomans...) and it started way back when King Ottokar II ruled the Austrian duchy. Roderich gained an interest because he couldn't contextualise the numbers the king earned until he learned the calculations and voila.

- Yes, this also includes his tendency to save up through coupons... Even then it's not like he's poor either. Far from it. The trauma of losing nearly all of his riches following the world wars had him work like crazy to rebuild on that wealth, investments, work in the local tourism industry, their breweries, and dipping into those BMW shares which had Bavaria look at him like 🤨 but well whatever for the prinzessin. So he's comfortable. Too comfortable in the present. He was spoiled rotten once and can't get enough of it.

- More if anyone is interested...

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Superflares once per century

More often than previously thought, sun-like stars hurl huge amounts of radiation into space. The Sun, too, is capable of such outbursts

There is no question that the Sun is a temperamental star, as alone this year’s unusually strong solar storms prove. Some of them led to remarkable auroras even at low latitudes. But can our star become even more furious? Evidence of the most violent solar “tantrums” can be found in prehistoric tree trunks and in samples of millennia-old glacial ice. However, from these indirect sources, the frequency of superflares cannot be determined. And direct measurements of the amount of radiation reaching the Earth from the Sun have only been available since the beginning of the space age.

Another way to learn about our Sun’s long-term behavior is to turn to the stars, as is the approach of the new study. Modern space telescopes observe thousands and thousands of stars and record their brightness fluctuations in visible light. Superflares, which release amounts of energy of more than one octillion joules within a short period of time, show themselves in the observational data as short, pronounced peaks in brightness. “We cannot observe the Sun over thousands of years,” Prof. Dr. Sami Solanki, Director at the MPS and coauthor, explained the basic idea behind the investigation. “Instead, however, we can monitor the behavior of thousands of stars very similar to the Sun over short periods of time. This helps us to estimate how frequently superflares occur,” he adds.

Looking for close relatives of the Sun

In the current study, the team including researchers from the University of Graz (Austria), the University of Oulu (Finland), the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan, the University of Colorado Boulder (USA) and the Commissariat of Atomic and Alternative Energies of Paris-Saclay and the University of Paris-Cité, analyzed the data from 56450 sun-like stars as seen by NASA’s space telescope Kepler between 2009 and 2013. “In their entirety, the Kepler data provide us with evidence of 220000 years of stellar activity,” said Prof. Dr. Alexander Shapiro from the University of Graz.

Crucial for the study was the careful selection of the stars to be taken into account. After all, the chosen stars should be particularly close “relatives” of the Sun. The scientists therefore only admitted stars whose surface temperature and brightness were similar to the Sun’s. The researchers also ruled out numerous sources of error, such as cosmic radiation, passing asteroids or comets, as well as non-sun-like stars that in Kepler images may by chance flare up in the vicinity of a sun-like star. To do this, the team carefully analyzed the images of each potential superflare - only a few pixels in size - and only counted those events that could reliably be assigned to one of the selected stars.

In this way, the researchers identified 2889 superflares on 2527 of the 56450 observed stars. This means that on average, one sun-like star produces a superflare approximately once per century.

“High performance dynamo computations of these solar-type stars easily explain the magnetic origins of the intense release of energy during such superflares”, said coauthor Dr. Allan Sacha Brun of the Commissariat of Atomic and Alternative Energies of Paris-Saclay and the University of Paris-Cité.

Surprisingly frequent

“We were very surprised that sun-like stars are prone to such frequent superflares”, said first author Dr. Valeriy Vasilyev from the MPS. Earlier surveys by other research groups had found average intervals of a thousand or even ten thousand years. However, earlier studies were unable to determine the exact source of the observed flare and therefore had to limit themselves to stars that did not have any too close neighbors in the telescope images. The current study is the most precise and sensitive to date.

Longer average time intervals between extreme solar events have also been suggested by studies looking for evidence of violent solar storms impacting Earth. When a particularly high flux of energetic particles from the Sun reaches the Earth's atmosphere, they produce a detectable amount of radioactive atoms such as the radioactive carbon isotope 14C. These atoms are then deposited in natural archives such as tree rings and glacial ice. Even thousands of years later, the sudden influx of high-energy solar particles can thus be deduced by measuring the amount of 14C using modern technologies. 

In this way, researchers were able to identify five extreme solar particle events and three candidates within the past twelve thousand years of the Holocene, leading to an average occurrence rate of once per 1500 years. The most violent is believed to have occurred in the year 775 AD. However, it is quite possible that more such violent particle events and also more superflares occurred on the Sun in the past. “It is unclear whether gigantic flares are always accompanied by coronal mass ejections and what is the relationship between superflares and extreme solar particle events. This requires further investigation”, co-author Prof. Dr. Ilya Usoskin from the University of Oulu in Finland pointed out. Looking at the terrestrial evidence of past extreme solar events could therefore underestimate the frequency of superflares.

Forecasting dangerous space weather

The new study does not reveal when the Sun will throw its next fit. However, the results urge caution. “The new data are a stark reminder that even the most extreme solar events are part of the Sun's natural repertoire,” said coauthor Dr. Natalie Krivova from the MPS. During the Carrington event of 1859, one of the most violent solar storms of the past 200 years, the telegraph network collapsed in large parts of northern Europe and North America. According to estimates, the associated flare released only a hundredth of the energy of a superflare. Today, in addition to the infrastructure on the Earth's surface, especially satellites would be at risk.

The most important preparation for strong solar storms is therefore reliable and timely forecasting. As a precaution, satellites, for example, could be switched off. From 2031, ESA’s space probe Vigil will help in the endeavor of forecasting. From its observation position in space, it will look at the Sun from the side and notice sooner than Earth-bound probes when processes that might drive dangerous space weather are brewing up on our star. The MPS is currently developing the Polarimetric and Magnetic Imager for this mission.

IMAGE: Artist's impression of a Sun-like star exhibiting a superflare as seen in visible light Credit MPS/Alexey Chizhik

[lboogie1906]

Dido Elizabeth Belle (June 1761 - 1804) is known for the 1779 painting of her alongside her cousin, Lady Elizabeth Murray, the great-niece of William Murray, The First Earl of Mansfield.

Her father, John Lindsay, was a young British naval officer and nephew of Lord Mansfield, while her mother, whose name is believed to be Maria Bell, was enslaved in the West Indies.

Upon the death of Maria Bell, John Lindsay in 1766 requested that she be entrusted to his uncle, Lord Mansfield, who was raising his young great-niece, Elizabeth Murray, due to her mother passing and her father serving the Crown as an ambassador first to Austria and later to France. Adding her to Lord Mansfield’s household provided Elizabeth Murray with a playmate. Her role in the household seemed to have been as Elizabeth’s lady’s companion rather than her lady’s maid. While in the household she received an education and an annual allowance of £30, several times the wages of a domestic servant. As an adult, she managed the estate’s dairy and poultry yards and helped Lord Mansfield with correspondence, a task normally assigned to a male secretary or clerk.

She spent nearly three decades at Kenwood House, the home of the Murray family. The best insight into Belle’s life with Lord Mansfield comes from Thomas Hutchinson who visited Kenwood House in 1779. While dining with Mansfield, Hutchinson was surprised to see her, a woman of African ancestry, sitting with the ladies drinking coffee and going on a walk with her arm locked with another woman. An American guest reported, that she was not allowed to dine with the family.

Little is known about the remainder of her life. She benefited from small inheritances left by Lord and Lady Mansfield. She did not receive an inheritance from her father, Sir John Lindsay, who died an Admiral in the British Navy. She married John Davinier (1793) a French gentleman’s steward. The couple had three children. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[girlactionfigure]

He admitted he "was just a schmuck", a regular guy, who worked at his brother's liquor store in Southern California. He lived quietly and died on December 5, 2015 at the age of 86.

Not many knew that this same humble man, an immigrant, had "the remarkable courage and forbearance of a . . . American hero, a man who joined the United States Army to thank the nation and the troops that rescued him from the concentration camp where he had been imprisoned as a teenager, and for whom recognition was delayed for decades because he happened to be Jewish," according to the New York Times.

He said his mom taught him that "There is one God, and we are all brothers and sisters. You have to take care of your brothers, and save them."

"To her, to save somebody’s life is the greatest honor," he added. "And I did that.”

You probably never heard of him. His name was Tibor Rubin. He had to wait 55 years to receive the Medal of Honor he deserved. He was the only Holocaust survivor to receive the Medal of Honor.

He was born in 1929 in Hungary.

At the age of 14, "Tibor Rubin was . . . was deported in 1944 to Mauthausen, the Nazi concentration camp complex in Austria," according to the Washington Post. He never saw his parents nor his younger sister again.

A commandant told him that he would never get out alive.

After 14 months, according to writer Adam Bernstein, Rubin had become "a disease-ridden skeleton."

American troops liberated Mauthausen on May 5, 1945. He was so grateful that accoording to a 2013 documentary film, “Finnigan’s War,” about veterans of the Korean War, Corporal Rubin said in broken English, “I promised the good Lord that if I get out of here alive, I’d become a G.I. Joe, to give back something.”

It took him a while to get to America, but when he finally came to the United States in 1948, he kept his promise and tried to enlist. But, because his English wasn't good enough, he had to wait until 1950, when he literally "cheated his way into the Army, he said, by cribbing the entrance exam, according to the Washington Post.

Because he was not a citizen, he was told he didn't have to fight, but somehow made his way to the Korean front lines, when he said, remembering his mother's words - "Well, what about the others? I cannot leave my fellow brothers.”

His sergeant, according to Bernstein, was "a sadist and anti-Semite" who repeatedly "volunteered" Rubin "on seemingly certain-death assignments."

One of those missions had him "single-handedly [hold] off a wave of North Korean soldiers for 24 hours, securing for his own troops a safe route of retreat." That in itself should have earned him the Medal of Honor.

Corporal Rubin would also "spend 30 months as a prisoner of war in North Korea, where testimony from his fellow prisoners detailed his willingness to sacrifice for the good of others," according to the New York Times.

Because he was not a citizen, his captors offered to return him to Hungary, but he refused, deciding to stay in the isolated camp that the Americans called “Death Valley.” He would not forget his mother's words.

He would risk his life sneaking out of the camp, only to return after he foraged for food and and stole enemy supplies, to bring back "what he could to help nourish his comrades."

“Some of them gave up, and some of them prayed to be taken,” Mr. Rubin later told Soldiers magazine. He did his best to rally them, reminding them of relatives praying for their safe return home.

“He shared the food evenly among the G.I.’s,” Sgt. Leo A. Cormier Jr., a fellow prisoner, wrote in a statement, according to The Jewish Journal. “He also took care of us, nursed us, carried us to the latrine.” He added, “Helping his fellow men was the most important thing to him.”

The prison camp survivors remembered Rubin, crediting him with keeping them alive and saving at least 40 American soldiers.

Rubin received the Purple Heart with 1 bronze oak leaf cluster, but not the Medal of Honor.

He returned home, to the United States, where he would lead a quiet life, rarely talking of his war experience.

When he did talk of his war experience, he said he felt guilty, seeing the countless maimed and lifeless bodies and hearing the agonized screams in Korean from the wounded.

“I had the guilt feeling what I did here,” he later told an interviewer with the Holocaust Awareness Museum and Education Center in Philadelphia. “I killed even the enemy but I killed somebody’s father, brother, and all that. . . . But then again, the truth is that if I don’t kill him, he kill me and vice versa. It’s war. War is hell.”

In the 1980s, he attended a reunion of veterans, where he learned that he had been nominated four times for the Medal of Honor by his grateful comrades, but the sergeant, who hated him for his religion, deliberately ignored the orders from his own superiors to prepare the appropriate paperwork.

In 2002, after Congress passed the Leonard Kravitz Jewish War Veterans Act, Rubin's records were reviewed and the affidavits recommending Rubin for the Medal of Honor were found.

He finally received his Medal of Honor at a 2005 White House ceremony.

“I waited 55 years,” he said. “Yesterday I was just a schmuck. Today, they call me, ‘Sir.’ . . . How I made it, the Lord don’t even know. I don’t even know because I was so many times supposed to die over there, but I’m still here.”

Rubin kept his promise to give back something to the country who saved him, and, in doing so, he also remembered his mother's words to consider everyone a brother and take care of them.

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page  ·

[themculibrary]

Christmas Activities Masterlist

all I want for Christmas (is you) (ao3) - grydo2life clint/phil T, 5k

Summary: Or, 5 presents Clint gave Phil, and 1 that Phil gave back.

Bake A Little Love (For Me) (ao3) - Buckets_Of_Stars pepper/tony, happy/may G, 2k

Summary: Making Christmas cookies with his family? Tony Stark never thought he would ever be allowed the luxury, to be surround by people who love him, really, truly love him and want to be near him.

But he is and the genius is still completely blown away.

Beneath the Mistletoe (ao3) - sunrow steve/bucky E, 21k

Summary: Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he’s 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

Bucky’s Christmas Miracle (ao3) - vanillafluffy bucky/maria G, 3k

Summary: In which Bucky finally remembers Steve and tells Maria Hill the story of how they first met.

Christmas Tree Fiasco (ao3) - GraceKnowsIrondad0777 G, 4k

Summary: December/10/2020

2020 is a good time to go all out with the Christmas decorations. Peter’s stuck in quarantine and in his holiday spirit, a well intended decorating plan lands him stuck in the Christmas tree longer than typically advised.

OR: Peter gets himself stuck in the Christmas Tree for 24 hours and Tony is not happy. It’s a good thing he loves this kid.

Festive (ao3) - orphan_account steve/bucky E, 5k

Summary: It was almost Christmas, that was pretty exciting. It was going to be the second Christmas Bucky and Steve were going to spend together. Now that they are in the twenty first century they don’t have to worry about not being able to afford each other gifts or worry that the lights will rack up their electricity bill so high that they won’t eat for the next month.

They’re able to watch the snow fall, watch holiday movies, spend time together in a warm, comfy apartment. They were together and celebrating together, it was everything they could ever dream of… Too bad Steve had to go out and be a bad boy.

Five Times Clint and Natasha Ended Up Under the Mistletoe (ao3) - AlliSnow clint/natasha G, 4k

Summary: New York, Austria, Morocco, Cleveland, and back to New York.

it’s real to me (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor sam/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Sam’s parents aren’t accepting of his sexuality, and he needs someone to bring to his family Christmas gathering. Bucky is a stranger who’s lonely on Christmas and decides to step in and help Sam.

It’s The Great Big Christmas Tree, Mr. Stark! (ao3) - ciaconnaa T, 2k

Summary: Peter and Ned cut down a Christmas tree that’s way too big. And they need Iron Man to take it.

Kissing Under the Mistletoe (and Other Christmassy Activities) (ao3) - Selenay clint/phil T, 13k

Summary: “How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?” Clint continued. “All those kids around, we’d be able to keep it strictly PG and your sister would never have to know. It’ll be great.”

Phil stared. “You’re actually volunteering to spend Christmas pretending to be-”

“Your boyfriend.” Clint nodded. “I’ve had worse assignments.”

“Fine.” Phil pulled up a website and began hunting for flights. “Remember, you volunteered for this.”

Mistletoe (ao3) - CaptainJimothyCarter peggy/steve G, 3k

Summary: Steve cannot lie to save his life, especially to his girlfriend whose whole career is built on the ability to lie. His mother’s yearly Christmas dinner will be a bit different this year and not just because Chester Phillips is officially his stepfather.

MistleTony (ao3) - catemonsterq darcy/tony E, 39k

Summary: It’s Secret Santa time at Avengers Tower and Darcy finds herself with a conundrum- of course, she would wind up pulling Tony Stark’s name from the hat. What exactly does one get a genius, billionaire, playboy….especially when that person also happens to be your crush? Darcy has a month to find the perfect present without kissing him senseless. Hint: she doesn’t make it.

Of Love and Dreams to Share (ao3) - Ralkana clint/phil G, 1k

Summary: In which Clint listens to Christmas music and bakes cookies.

Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful (ao3) - enigma731 gamora/peter G, 832

Summary: Peter teaches Groot how to have a snowball fight. He’ll probably regret it for the rest of his life.

Secret Santa (ao3) - IlluminateMe maria/natasha T, 2k

Summary: The Avengers do secret Santa. What could go wrong?

Sleigh Bells in the Snow (ao3) - rainblou G, 1k

Summary: Peter is clocking too many internship hours and Tony thinks he needs a break. Snowball shenanigans ensue.

Steve and Bucky’s first Christmas in retirement (ao3) - Laevateinn steve/bucky T, 2k

Summary: Follow Steve and Bucky as they decorate their house, then celebrate the holidays surrounded by family.

The 12 Days of Steve’s Secret Santa (ao3) - pizzagirl darcy/steve T, 12k

Summary: A Secret Santa gift exchange is organized, with the aid of JARVIS, to include the Avengers & friends. Everyone is pretty excited with their ‘Santees’, but none moreso than Darcy. She hopes to pull off her ambitious ideas. Steve’s gifts leave him amused and slightly confused, especially when he sees who is delivering them.

The Best Day of the Year (ao3) - orphan_account pepper/tony G, 2k

Summary: Tony finally mans up and proposes to Pepper on Christmas Eve.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (ao3) - the_irish_mayhem jane/thor E, 5k

Summary: Jane and Thor do Christmas. (Finally.)

Tis the season for holiday smut.

this christmas, I’ll give you my heart (ao3) - buckyismybicycle sam/bucky T, 6k

Summary: Bucky and Sam draw each other’s names for Secret Santa - neither of them know what to get and enlist the help of Nat and Joaquin. Cue a lot of misunderstandings.

Under the Mistletoe (ao3) - Tutselutse bucky/darcy N/R, 4k

Summary: Jane looked at Darcy after taking a long sip of coffee, smiling a very pleased smile before asking: “How’s it going with the cute neighbor?” Darcy couldn’t control the stupid grin that spread across her face and the small blush in her cheeks as she answered: “Barnes? I saw him today, but being late and all, I couldn’t stop and flirt. He looked so cute, his hair and scarf filled with snow”. —–

Darcy is kind of crushing on her neighbor. She also has weird friends. And, it’s Christmas.

“Our landlord really went all out with the mistletoe, huh? AU”

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat: Chapter Two

FANDOM: EXTRACTION

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

WARNINGS: angst. Big time angst.

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/125445052

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @karimac @kmc1989 @thebewingedjewelcat @ninjasawakenedmystar @residentdormouse @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @themaradwrites @occommunity @timbradfordsboot

My tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

Chapter Text

“Nik found us a little place,” Esme announces, as she tends to his beard; using a pocket comb to make her way through the wiry hair. “In Austria. Just on the outskirts of Gmunden. It looks really pretty; it’s right on the edge of a lake and it’s surrounded by trees and you can look out at the mountains.”

Reaching for a pair of cuticle scissors that rest on his chest, she chews on her bottom lip as she focuses on snipping the wiry hair. The gray is more noticeable now that his beard is longer and thicker, and she momentarily pauses her work and carefully studies his face and hair; enjoying how the strands of silver sparkle in the sunlight that streams into the room. They’re a sign of wisdom and experience; testaments to life often lived on the edge that take up residence at his temples, the nape of his neck, and throughout the wild top tresses.

“You know…” She uses the comb to sweep his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “…I’m really digging this older guy vibe you’ve got going on. It’s kinda sexy; all the gray hair you’ve sprouted over the past five months. Once you hit fifty? You are going to be one hell of a hot silver fox. I’m going to have to beat the women off with a stick. And probably a few men.”

Returning to the task at hand, she carefully trims the hair above his top lip; mindful of the combination of breathing and feeding tubes that have been keeping him alive and nourished. When it became apparent that she was going to continue to ‘stand off’ against them, the doctors had -albeit reluctantly- switched their course of care; ordering the nurses to teach Esme the basics in case they’re ever short-staffed and other patients need to be of higher priority. She knows their excuses are bullshit; that they’re simply tired of her constant presence and her refusal to spare them the work of looking after someone they’ve already written off as a loss. And she’s also aware that they’re just biding their time until legal paperwork is drawn up and processed; licking their lips in anticipation of when they can serve her with a court order to have him removed from the machines.

Yet their pressure -both passive and actively aggressive- doesn’t sway her. Despite being both physically and mentally exhausted, she is staying the course; digging her heels in even deeper and willingly and readily accepting any ‘task’ they want to assign her.

“I am NOT very good at this,” Esme laments, as she returns to trimming his beard. “I am definitely not cut out to be a hair stylist, that’s for sure. You know what we’re going to do as soon as you’re out of here? Get you to a good barber. Because you’re starting to look homeless and unloved and I don’t need some bleeding heart picking you up off the street like you’re a stray.”

She hums as she works; upbeat show tunes and Beatles medleys that help keep her spirits up. They’ve been waning lately; the darkness she’d successfully fought off for so long now a near-constant presence. In two weeks it will be six months since he was declared ‘clinically dead’ and placed on the respirator. Half a year since she’d last seen him open his eyes and heard his voice; vividly able to recall those last few minutes that they’d spent together in Dhaka. Tucked away in that litter-strewn alley as dawn broke around them, unabashedly crying when he broke the news that he was going to send her off with Saju and Ovi. There was a better chance she’d make it there -and successfully get across the bridge- if they split up; he’d act as a decoy by creating chaos within the heart of town and drawing the enormous police and military presence away from the checkpoints. He’d admitted he wouldn’t be able to focus if she was with him; afraid he’d become so obsessed with her safety and well-being that he’d make simple, stupid mistakes. And in turn, cause BOTH of their demises.

On her part, there’d been anger. Confusion. Heartache. She’d initially lashed out at him and accused him of lying to her over the course of the last five days; none of the softer and adoring words had been true, and neither had been the hopes for a future or their plans to travel together. And when she’d seen the hurt that darkened his eyes and furrowed his brow and tensed his shoulders, she had changed her tactic; begging and pleading with him to change his mind. She’d be able to handle herself. Promising that she’d stick tight to him and wouldn’t be a burden or a distraction; he’d be able to focus on the job at hand. After all, he was the first person that had ever made her feel safe and secure. Protected. And it absolutely terrified her to have that suddenly snatched away.

It had felt like hours had passed since their initial goodbye; still feeling the callouses on his skin as he gently cradled her cheek in his palm, her lips still tingling from that long, shockingly tender kiss. And those words…spoken just before they parted…still echoing in her ears.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

It was the second time he’d said it. In less than thirty-six hours. Just that very morning he’d unexpectedly dropped it upon; a genuinely tender and hopeful moment as they parted ways at the extraction point. The drive there had been spent in silence; Tyler making the quick and effortless transition from the soft-spoken and attentive man she’d been intimate and shared secrets with to ruthless and calculated mercenary.

Yet it hadn’t frightened her. His mere presence and his smell and the glances and reassuring smiles he’d cast in her direction made sure of that. He may have become ‘all business’, but the other Tyler was just lingering just at the surface; the one that had shared his deepest and darkest confessions with her and who’d cried when talking about his son and his fight with cancer and the horrible decision he’d made prior to his death. And who’d shown every end of the sexual spectrum during their times behind closed doors; rough and aggressive and domineering one moment, slow and tender and worshipping the next.

She had never met anyone like him. In more ways than one.

And it was right before she began her trek through the forest and towards the river when it became abundantly clear that every kiss they’d shared, every secret spilled, every tear they’d shed, had all been real. He had meant the words he’d said; the excitement he’d shown at the idea of travelling together and of even seeing her birthplace and meeting her family. And the optimism he’d shown when talking about the possibility of a future…a REAL future…together.

Although a simple moment, it had seemed so deeply personal and intimate; the way he’d pulled that bulletproof vest over her head and made sure it was tightly and securely fastened. Already so protective; forgetting about her own background in the military and her years spent on the job in his quest and desire to keep her safe and sound. No one had ever made her feel that way before; nurturing and adoring and caring instead of being indifferent or malicious in both their words and their actions.

While Mark and all his cruel words and taunts, beatings and sexual assaults had stripped her of every ounce of trust in men, it had taken Tyler less than a week to restore not only her faith in others, but the most primal of needs and urges. Sex had never been a priority; it’s hard to find yourself THAT attracted to someone when you’d spent years having the most basic and most vile and degrading acts forced upon you. But with Tyler, it had been near instantaneous. An attraction that she’d felt the moment of their introduction in the outback; when one of those enormous, calloused and scarred hands had practically swallowed one of her own. The stories alone should have left her intimidated; the scores of incredibly dangerous missions he’d been involved in and the trails of blood and rotting corpses he left behind.

It was his eyes. Brilliant yet soulful blue; a humanity and a tenderness that he kept buried just under the surface. He wasn’t as broken or as soulless as he perceived himself to be; not truly the empty shell that he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t turned to stone despite the hardships of the life he’d been living; instead his grief, guilt, and heartache so enormous and overwhelming that they left him numb and jaded to anything beyond his four walls. His addictions were proof that he was still very much alive; a troubled, lonely, touch-starved man that sought out unhealthy ways to ease both his physical and mental suffering.

She’d been privy to those sides he’d long buried. In the same way she had so blindly and wholly trusted him, he had done the same with her. Speaking openly and honestly about his son and the cancer that had not only robbed him of his life, but his father’s comforting and loving presence in those final moments. He spoke about his alcoholism and his addiction to pain meds; how he’d tried to stop on many occasions but found the suffering just too difficult to bear. And he confessed to the death wish he’d been carrying around since he’d abandoned his child; not really wanting a sniper’s bullet to cut him down in the middle of the job, but wholeheartedly believing he deserved it.

While he’d wanted to change and continued to desperately cling to any semblance of life, he didn’t quite know how to tackle his demons or fix the issues that surrounded him. He’d never been taught healthy coping mechanisms; not allowed to mourn the loss of his mother or to even show some glimmer of emotion during her funeral or those long days and nights of grieving that followed. It was a sign of weakness, after all. A real man didn’t react from the heart, let alone speak from it. And his father would simply not allow a ‘fragile and pathetic’ man to live under his roof.

And then one day, after years of beatings and cruelty, that abused and tormented child transformed into a deeply troubled man. Saddled with decades of trauma and toxic masculinity that his father had so viciously beat into him.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

He’d spoken those words after making sure every piece of velcro on her vest was attached ‘just right’, then grabbed hold of the shoulder straps and pulled her into a kiss. It had been long and languid and heartbreakingly tender; nowhere near as intense and hungry and desperate as those they’d shared over the course of five days, but incredible in its own right. A kiss that held so much promise and a tinge of worry. A potent mixture of hope, optimism, and fear. The best-case scenario would be that the job went according to plan; he’d successfully rescue Ovi and return to the extraction point in less than two hours’ time. Unscathed. After that they’d be free; they’d get to safety, collect their money, and make good on all the plans they’d made. The worst-case scenario was the mission being an epic failure. And their parting words -ones made with the best intentions- would turn out to be a permanent goodbye.

********

It feels like a lifetime ago. Mahajan’s double-crossing, the brutal and untimely deaths of their team members, Saju’s relentless hunt in a desperate bid to save his own family. So many things had gone wrong in such a short period of time; a struggle to survive in litter-strewn alleys and sewers filled with feces, garbage, and rats. They hadn’t had a chance to relax; unable to catch their breath before the next disaster came charging full speed ahead. And it was out of desperation that Tyler had played the one card he still had up his sleeve; someone he’d known for years and had always been able to trust. After all, he’d saved the man’s life on more than one occasion. If that wasn’t deserving of even the tiniest bit of help, what was?

Neither could have known - as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs in the bed of Gaspar’s guest room, that the worst was yet to come. Holding onto a semblance of hope that they’d walked through the fires of hell and somehow lived to tell about it. Believing they’d simply lie low for a couple of days and then be on their way; wait for the pandemonium to settle and then move about somewhat freely and easily.

Only friends are sometimes your worst enemies. Gaspar’s allegiance with Asif and his subsequent betrayal had led to disaster; an attempt to kill Tyler in order to get his hands on her and Ovi and the ten million dollar ‘prize’ that he’d be rewarded with. And in the end, it had been the fifteen-year-old that had pulled the trigger; saving all of their lives yet setting the stage for what would be the most difficult hour of their entire lives.

Crossing the bridge.

It’s still so vivid. The wails of the injured and the dying. The smell of fire, gunpowder and spilt gasoline. The pollution wafting off the filthy water. The blistering sun and the suffocating humidity. The taste of her own sweat as it dripped from her nose and gathered along her top lip. And the blood. So much blood. Covering her hands and staining her clothes. The scent of copper as it hung heavily in the air. And the fear and panic in Tyler’s eyes as he straddled the threshold between life and death. His body impossibly heavy as it lay across her lap; his battered and bloodied hands desperately clutching the front of her shirt as he gasped for breath.

She briefly closes her eyes; pushing back the flood of tears and the painful, traumatic memories. Still unable to think about those moments before help had finally arrived; how minutes had seemed hours as she sat -a filthy, sobbing, terrified mess- with her fingers shoved in the bullet wound in order to staunch his heavy bleeding. Wondering if perhaps her efforts would be all for nothing; Asif’s remaining men making their way to the bridge and discovering them there. Alive Tyler would immediately be killed; they would have made sure she watched as they put a bullet -or several- into his already beaten and broken body. Her fate would have been so much worse; likely kept captive -for days, weeks, even MONTHS- and abused in every possible way. All she would have been able to do was suffer through it; unable to fight back against the strength and the power -and the amount- of her attackers. She’d never been a praying person; she didn’t necessarily believe or not believe when it came to a higher power. But during moments of solitude, she would have begged and pleaded to anyone…anything…to permanently end her torment.

Gathering her composure, she shoves all thoughts of Dhaka aside and returns to the task at hand; slowly and carefully trimming his beard, mindful of the hairs that crowd close to the ventilation and feeding tubes. She misses his face; the one that wasn’t taken over by life-saving measures. It’s been so long since she’s seen it; whether it be that slow, boyish smile or that sly, almost mischievous smirk or the intensity that narrows his eyes and furrows his brow. And his eyes; a brilliant, captivating blue that can quickly transform to dark and stormy. She’d been privy to so many things during those five days in Dhaka; body language and facial expressions and sides to him that he’d never allowed anyone else to see.

And she’s not ready to give any one of them up.

“So about this place. In Austria…” She moves to the bedside table and opens the top drawer; placing the comb and scissors inside and then picking up a pair of nail clippers. “…I think it’s perfect for us. It’s in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by trees and mountains and it’s right on the water. It’s got two bedrooms and one and a half baths and the cutest open-concept living room and kitchen combo. It’s not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it IS comfortable. Quaint. And I don’t think we need much more than that, do you?”

Picking up his right hand, she patiently and gently tends to his nails. “I mean, I know it’s going to be pretty damn cold in the winter. And there’s going to be a lot of snow. But I’m used to it. I grew up in Colorado, remember? I know it’ll be a hard adjustment for an Aussie; you’re used to sun and sand and surf. But I think you’ll do alright. Actually, I KNOW you’ll do alright.”

When the conversation runs dry, she once more returns to humming as she works; finishing the rest of his nails before applying a hospital-provided moisturizer to both hands. Concentrating on the callouses on his palms and the one on the tip of his trigger finger; working the coconut-scened lotion into rough, thickened skin.

“I bet you haven’t been pampered like this in a long time,” she says, as she firmly massages his wrists, fingers, and thumbs. Diligently working at loosening the ligaments and tendons that have tightened over the course of the last six months. “If EVER. And I don’t mean to make it sound like I hate doing this, but buddy, you owe me one hell of a back rub when we finally get the hell out of here.”

It helps. Talking about the ‘when’ instead of the ‘if’. It’s the one thing that has kept her grounded and sane for half of a year; the plans they’d made and her determination to see them through. As long as she holds onto that little bit of hope, she hasn’t lost complete control of the situation; managing to keep death lingering at a comfortable distance while she navigates the grey and the gloom between here and there. If she allows herself to use the word ‘maybe’, she’s written him off; handed him the same death sentence that all the doctors and even Nik and Yaz have burdened him with. She refuses to give up; taking every flinch and flicker of his eyelids and twitch of his fingers or toes as a sign that he’s still fighting.

And nowhere close to surrendering.

She takes care of his hair next; spritzing it down with mandarin-scented detangler before making her way through with both brush and comb. Slipping a hand between him and the bed and gently lifting his head from the pillow; apologizing profusely when she feels as if she’s yanked a little too hard at the knots. And as exhausted as she is, she finds herself somewhat enjoying the tasks that she’s been given; a natural-born caretaker who’d been neglected and touch starved most of her life and in turn, wanted to make sure no one else experienced the same things. A mother hen so to speak; badly longing to protect and nurture another human being but never getting the opportunity to do so.

Until now.

“Pretty shitty circumstances though,” she says aloud, and drops the hair care tools into the top drawer of the nightstand. “I think I’d take the worst possible case of man flu over this any day of the week.”

Guilt immediately sets in. Worried that IF he truly can hear her and understand what’s being said, he’ll assume she feels he’s a burden. That the blame lies solely upon him in terms of her emotional and physical exhaustion and that she’s simply stuck by his side out of a feeling of misplaced servitude. He had saved her life in Dhaka, after all. Surely that must make her feel as if she owes him. That waiting on him hand and foot and perhaps even feeding him and cleaning his ass for the rest of his life is merely payback.

“I don’t really mean that you know.” She’s quick to apologize; using her hip to close the drawer on the nightstand and then leaning against the railing of the bed. And she chews nervously on her bottom lip as two fingertips swipe his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “Not in the way it probably sounded. I don’t mind doing all this stuff. I WANT to do it. And I know you’d probably do the same for me. I just meant that it’s shitty circumstances that got us here. I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Removing a tube of chapstick from the pocket of her hoodie, she snaps off the cap and leans over the bed railing. “You’re totally drying out here,” she laments, mindful of the breathing and feeding tube as she glides the bubblegum-flavoured concoction over his top lip, followed by the bottom. “I’m sorry it’s not the strawberry one you got used to in Dhaka. Remember how you always used to mention it? Every time you kissed me? About liking the taste of it? I ran out. And this cherry one was the closest thing I could find to it in the pharmacy here. There…” She uses a fingertip to clear excess from his lips. “…totally kissable now. Not that I wouldn’t kiss you before, but…” Pressing a kiss to each corner of his mouth. “…it makes it a little better.”

Pocketing the balm, she reaches for the lever on the bedrail and sets it into the down position. Gently straightening and smoothing out his blankets, she fluffs both the pillow behind his head and the one that supports his back before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Tyler…” She takes one of his hands in both her own. “…we need to have a little chat. I know it’s kind of unfair right now; you can’t exactly give an opinion or argue with me. And I promise that once you’re out here and back to normal, I MAY let you get a word in edge-wise from time to time. But for now, there’s some things I need to say. That I’d rather you hear now than never hear them at all, you know? Because…”

Sighing, she anxiously yanks the elastic out of her ponytail; shaking her long, dark tresses for before simply gathering them up and putting them back once again. “Look, you’ve been amazing, okay? You’ve done everything I’ve asked you to do; when it comes to giving me little signs that you’re making your way back to me. And I’m so proud of you; I know you’re tired and you’re healing but you’re still trying to help me out. That’s why it kills me that I have to do this. That I have to ask for more.”

She turns his palm up to face her and commences drawing slow, smooth patterns on it with the tip of her finger. Her eyes riveted on the beside monitor; a smile spreading across her face when his heart rate escalates.

“I keep telling them. That you ALWAYS respond to that. And that you’ve been responding to other things, too. I told them you’ll wiggle your toes or your fingers when I ask and how sometimes your eyelashes will flutter and other times you try and put your hand on top of mine. They don’t believe me; they think it’s all in my head. They keep saying that you’d do for them and the nurses if it was intentional. And you know what I said? I said ‘maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about any of you’.”

Sighing, she reaches up to tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ears.

“Tyler, I know I’ve asked a lot. And that you’ve worked really hard to give me what I asked. I know you’re tired; you’re trying to build up your strength so you can wake up and get the hell out of here. But we’re running out of time, babe. I told them I’d shut things off at the start of the sixth month; that’s only a couple of weeks away. I don’t want to do it, believe me. I want to keep you on these machines for as long as I can; until you’re a hundred percent ready to come off them. But if I don’t do what I promised, they’re going to take me to court. And they’ll get an order to override me and do what they want. I don’t want it coming to that. You deserve so much better than THAT. So this is where I need your help. AGAIN. I need you to do more, okay? I need a bigger sign. One that the doctors can’t brush off. I need something that says you’re almost ready; you’re stronger and you’re healthier and you’re almost at the finish line. I don’t want to say that I’m desperate, but I am. I really need this. I really need YOU. Because I’m starting to get really scared and you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel safe and protected and…” She valiantly struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “…and I never knew I even needed to feel those things. So please? Just do something. Anything. That shows them they’re wrong. Please.”

She waits for a sign. Another increase in heart rate. A flicker of his eyes. The wiggle of fingers and toes. And she’s crestfallen when nothing happens.

“You’re probably sleeping,” she laments, then slaps a hand against her forehead. “God I am so fucking stupid. Of COURSE you’re sleeping. You’re in a coma for Christ’s sake. I’m starting to lose it. I really am. I’m even talking to myself lately. Out loud. You can’t tell me THAT’S normal. And there’s one more thing…” She laces her fingers through his. “Now is going to be harder than I thought. To say what I need to. I don’t even know what I’m so scared of; it’s not you’re awake and you can laugh at me or act disgusted or just totally shoot me down. But I need to get it off my chest. Because if something does go wrong and something bad DOES happen, I’d never forgive myself for not telling you. So here it goes…”

Sighing heavily, she steels herself.

“I love you, Tyler. And I know what you’re probably thinking; about how it’s way too soon and that there’s no way you can love someone so quickly. Believe me, I never thought it was possible either. Until it happened. I don’t expect you to feel the same way; it’s not like you’ve spent the last five months like I have. Dhaka probably seems like just yesterday in your mind. I don’t expect you to wake up and say it back; not unless you FEEL it. And maybe you never will. I don’t know. Maybe those five days were as good as things were going to get. But I HAD to tell you. And to be honest, I needed to admit it to myself, too.”

For several minutes she sits in silence; tightly clasping his hand and watching his face for any change. The curl of a lip or the flutter of eyelashes or the swell of a cheek with an attempt of a smile. He’d been showing remarkable progress within the last few days alone; voluntary movements of his hands and feet and a slight grimace of pain when the night nurse had to change IV sites. But today he’s motionless; not even the smallest of flinches. Peacefully at rest; his beard and nails trimmed, his hair combed, and his skin warm to the touch.

“I’m going to go and do my stuff,” she says, and lifts his hand to her face; pressing a kiss to each battered knuckle and at the base of his wrist. “Do some yoga, take a shower, go down the hall to the kitchen and get something to eat. So I’m gonna just let you rest and…”

The moment she slips off the edge of the bed, his hand tightens around hers. Not with the strength of a man who’d been declared clinically dead and was relying on machines to keep him alive, but the strength of someone still very much alive. And fighting like hell.

“I knew it.” She allows the tears to come; cradling his cheek in her palm as she leans over the bed and rests her forehead against his. “I KNEW it.”

*****

Although running behind, she sticks to her morning schedule; simple ‘luxuries’ that she’s clung to to keep what’s remaining of her sanity. A lengthy and rejuvenating yoga routine that helps centre and ground; the furniture moved aside in the sitting area of Tyler’s private room to make space for herself and her mat. A long shower in one of the many ‘for family use only’ bathrooms; the pounding water working out the kinks in her neck and soothing the aches in her back and hips. Finished off with that first tea of the day and a quick and quiet breakfast. Steaming hot perfection combined with a bowl of yogurt, granola, and fresh fruit; always at the same table -and seat right next to the window- in the ICU’s small yet fully stocked and manned cafeteria.

It makes her feel human again. To focus on herself. But it’s fleeting and soon taken over by feelings of selfishness and guilt; ashamed that she’d allowed herself those moments of peace and clarity while Tyler continued to exist in that void between life and death.

But today is different. His response to her request for a more significant and more obvious sign and her profession of love has rejuvenated her; her confidence has returned to her step and her optimism and hope are both stronger than ever. She knows they’ll try and convince her it’s all in her head; gaslighting her into believing that she’s so desperate for a miracle that she’s become ‘delusional’ and is ‘highly imaginative’. But she knows for sure that his squeeze of the hand was the real deal; it was strong and assuring and sending a clear, unwavering message that he’d not only heard her pleas and requests, but was doing his best to acknowledge AND answer them. And now only one real challenge remains. Getting him to show the nurses and the doctors the same responses when they speak to him.

“This place is getting busy again,” Esme announces as she re-enters his room, her soiled yoga shorts and tank in hand; stuffing the latter into a near overflowing she’s been promising to take down the laundry room for over a week. “Remember how I was talking about all those rooms opening up? People getting shipped up to normal wards? Well, they’re full again.” Sighing, she gathers her damp hair in both hands and styles it into a haphazard bun; securing it with the elastic she keeps around one wrist. “A lot of pretty young people, too. I don’t what’s going on and how they’re getting so sick or so hurt, but…”

A barely audible grunt from across the room interrupts her mid-sentence. The anxiety is immediate; her stomach clenching and her jaw tightening as she tries to digest the never heard before sound. Any change of the ’norm’ brings about near panic; a fear that something different automatically means disaster. And her brows are knit together and her eyes are narrowed as she apprehensively glances over her shoulder.

His eyes open. Barely. The gaze is groggy. Confused. But steadily fixed upon her.

“Tyler?”

Another grunt. His eyes briefly closing before he raises a hand; trembling furiously as it reaches for the breathing tube.

“No! No! No!” Dropping her remaining belongings on the floor, she rushes to his bedside; fingers curling around his wrist. “Don’t touch that. You’ll yank it out. Hurt yourself. The nurse needs to do it for you. Can you see me? Hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying? Blink if you do.”

He obliges her request.

“What are you doing awake? What…?” Her words are cut off by a choked sob; one of pure shock and disbelief. And she wraps both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his temple; tears spilling down her cheeks as she rests her head upon his shoulder. “You prick! Leave it to you to wait until I was out of the room!”

It takes tremendous effort and strength, but his hand comes to rest in the middle of her back; rubbing it in slow, smooth circles in an attempt to console her.

“You know how long I waited for this moment?” Pulling away, she lovingly ruffles his hair. “Almost six months! A half a year! I’ve thought about it every day. What it would be like when it happened. And what do you do? You go ahead and totally ruin it for me!”

He attempts a sorry. Words unable to get passed the tubes shoved down his throat.

“I’m just teasing you. Just giving you a hard time. Don’t try and talk, okay? Not until they get those things out of you. Do you know where you are?”

A small nod.

“Do you remember what happened? Do you know why you’re here?”

Another. Followed by heavy-lidded eyes surveying the room; brow furrowing at the sight of the various bedside machines and the wires attached to various parts of his body. And when he looks back at her there’s a mixture of emotions written on his face; a heavy dose of fear and concern.

“I know it’s a hell of a thing to wake up to. Being here. And I know you’re probably really confused right now. Your mind is probably all fuzzy. Nothing much is making sense, huh? You’re probably scared, too. I would be too.”

He raises a hand; knuckles brushing against her cheek before his arm once more falls heavily onto the bed.

“I’m okay,” she assures him, as she sinks down onto the edge of the bed and takes his hand in both of hers. “And so is Ovi. Nik’s had people with him ever since he got home. They follow him everywhere; keep a close eye on him. Just in case.”

His brow furrows as he regards her intently.

“I’m fine,” she stresses. “I was a bit banged up. Nothing serious. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse, believe me. I didn’t even need to spend the night here. Not as a patient, anyway. You did what you promised. You got Ovi out of there. You got him home. Safe and sound. It’s over. It’s all over. It’s been over for months now.”

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. Tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I know you’re probably really confused. You’ve probably got a lot of questions. But you’ve been here for six months. So have I. I wanted to make sure that you were taken care of. That no one would give up on you. And I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to fight your way back. That you weren’t ready to give up. You weren’t ready to leave.”

He shakes his head.

“The conceited part of me wants to say it’s all because of me. That I’m the reason you’re still here. That you made your way back just for me. But…”

His eyes find hers once more; hand squeezing hers as tight as his weakened body will allow.

“Sweet talker,” she chides, and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You try and rest, okay? I’m just going to go and call your nurse and she can contact your doctor or come and check you herself. Whatever she needs to do. I just…”

His grip tightens on her as she slips off the bed. The fear once more returning to his eyes.

“I’m not leaving, I just need to get your call button. It’s on the other side of the bed. I need to use it to get your nurse in here. Don’t worry…” Pushing a hand through his hair, she places her lips against his brow. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not EVER.”

*****

It seems so different now.

So foreign.

Almost uncomfortable.

It’s so quiet. All the bedside machines unplugged; dark and silent and shoved into a corner of the room. She had gotten so used to it; the hiss and the hums, the beeps and the clicks. The noises quickly becoming a part of her new existence; blending in with the chatter of the staff as they wandered the halls and the rattle of gurneys as they passed by the room. And she almost misses them; unaware of how familiar and routine they’d gotten until they suddenly ceased to exist. They had been a security blanket almost; something steady and constant that had signified life and hope and had kept her going at even her darkest and most difficult of moments.

He sleeps soundly; aided by powerful painkillers given through an IV line and fed to him through a programmed pump. She’d insisted on it; reminding them of the addiction issues that had been previously addressed and admitting -painfully- that he couldn’t be trusted to administer to himself. They’re hard things to accept; the powerful and all-consuming ties he has to both alcohol and Oxycontin. In Dhaka they’d briefly talked about it; he’d confessed to his addictions and admitted that he wanted to break free of their clutches. Getting clean was a priority now that he had someone in his life; he wanted to be rid of the worst of his vices, no matter how difficult it would be to walk away from them.

“You make me want to be a better man,” he’d announced, the sincerity in both his voice and his eyes had making her choke up. No one had ever given her a more beautiful compliment. Such honest and heartfelt words coming from someone like him; a phenomenally strong, seemingly fearless man weighed down by the enormity of his mistakes. Carrying around the burdens of guilt and grief and regret.

Not of that exists right now. He’s temporarily at peace; free of the monsters and the demons that have plagued him for years. His unassisted breathing slow and deep and rhythmic; his weakened and battered body trying to build whatever strength it can in order to begin the long, arduous road of healing. His skin is pale and the circles under his eyes dark and haunting; she’s already promised to get him out into the sunshine as soon as the doctors feel he’s up to it. He sleeps with his face turned towards her; unruly hair splayed out across his pillow and looking shades darker against the crisp white sheets. And there’s a slight smile curving his lips; perhaps feeling the tremendous relief that comes with walking through the darkest and deepest recesses of hell and living to tell about them.

Despite there still being a long and arduous road ahead, she feels as if a tremendous weight has been lifted off her shoulders; no longer concerned with deadlines and ultimatums and feeling an immense satisfaction at the doctors being proven wrong. And it had taken everything she had not to gloat when the primary care physician finally showed up to asses Tyler’s current physical and mental state and remove him from the machines. Feeling an immense sense of pride in him when he was able to answer -using nods or shakes of the head- basic questions regarding both his and her identity. Showing no signs of coma-induced amnesia; knowing her name and not only how they met, but how he ended up in the hospital in the first place. The line of questioning had been short and simple, but had immensely irritated him; the darkness in his eyes as he glared at the doctor gave a clear cut message: the interrogation was pointless, he wasn’t stupid, and he was simply tired of the other man’s shit.

The extubation hadn’t gone as smoothly as staff had hoped. What should have been simple and routine became a three ring circus when she was asked to leave the room; Tyler immediately panicking at the mere thought and his heart rate and blood pressure spiking to near dangerous levels as his fight or flight response kicked into high gear. Shockingly angry and strong for someone who’d been in a coma for half a year and only minutes before had appeared weak and docile. And with that the arguing and the threatening had began; Esme insisting that it was in his best interest if she was allowed to remain in the room where he could keep his eyes on her at the very least.

“He’s scared,” she’d informed them. “He’s scared and he’s confused. And I’m the one thing that’s been constant for the last six months. I’ve ALWAYS been here. He’s gotten used to that. What harm is it going to do if I hang around? It’ll help, if anything.”

For several minutes the bickering back and forth had continued. As had Tyler’s kicking and thrashing about in bed and the threats of “sedating him for everyone else’s safety.” She refused to let that happen; there was no need to drug him up when simply letting her stay by his side and hold his hand and talk him through it would more than suffice.

Her tenacity and stubbornness had been the victors in the end. And she’d held his hand in one of her own; her lips pressed against his ear as she talked him through the entire process and whispered words of comfort and reassurance. Telling him she wasn’t going ANYWHERE; there was nothing and no one that could possibly tear her away. Not now. Not ever.

******

Exhaustion sets in, coming on strong and fast. It’s aided by her newfound optimism and the fears she’s been able to shed, and she welcomes the chance to rest with open arms. Carefully prying open his fingers in order to slip her hand out of his; his grip surprisingly strong and fuelled by his fear that if he stops touching her, she’ll simply disappear. But he’s sleeping soundly and neither movement nor absence of touch disturbs him; not offering up a single flinch as he continues to alternate between lightly snoring and murmuring in his sleep. And kicking off her slippers, she leans back in her chair; drawing her oversized hoodie tighter around her body and then stretching out her legs and placing her feet on the mattress. Giving him just enough contact that if he does wake, he won’t immediately panic; her toes tucked securely underneath the back of his left thigh.

When she wakes, the sun has shifted position in the sky; beams streaming through the courtyard’s glass roof and casting shadows upon the lobby’s walls and floor. For what seems like several long, tedious minutes she fights disorientation; her weary brain struggling to identify and make sense of the sights and sounds that had been part of her life for half a year. Yawning loudly, she presses the heels of her palms into her blurry eyes; keeping them closed as her hands move to her shoulders and she massages at the tight, aching muscles.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She gives a small start; eyes rapidly flicking open and falling on the nurse that busies herself on the opposite side of the bed.

The younger woman gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I tried to be as quiet as possible. Sorry.”

“No need to be. It wasn’t you. I think my neck was crying out for mercy. I didn’t even realize you were here.” Esme frowns as concern sets in. She hates how quickly it can grab hold of her; the panic that comes with the fear of losing the one thing…the one person…that you truly DO love. Her life had changed half a year ago. Meeting someone who was just as damaged and tarnished as she was.

It could have gone so horribly wrong; two hurt and lonely people only making each other worse.

“Is he alright?” She attempts to keep her anxiety under control; the mere thought of him having a setback and ending up worse than before just too much to bear. While all her spoken and unspoken pleas and promises had been both accepted and answered, it’s been a nagging worry; a quick and sudden regression that sentences him to a life in a near -or full- vegetative state.

Even then, she'd stick by his side. Put her entire life on hold in an effort to improve his. And provide whatever care he needed. No matter how 'hands on'. “He’s doing just fine. Breathing well on his own; his numbers never drop below ninety-five percent.”

“And that’s good, right? Especially considering how long he needed that machine for? To already have numbers that high…”

“It’s excellent. Far better than anyone expected.”

“No one expected much from him, did they? And they sure as hell wouldn’t listen to me. I told them; that he was responding to my voice and when I tickled his palm and sometimes when I combed his hair. I knew what I was talking about. It wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t hysterical or crazy like they said.”

“No. You most certainly weren’t.”

“You were the only that believed me. That didn’t think I was nuts.”

“You fought with too much passion and too much conviction to be anything BUT truthful. I could tell in your voice and in your eyes; you truly believed what you were saying.”

“I may not have known Tyler very long, but I know that he wouldn’t give up without a fight. Maybe before he met me, he would have. But we talked about the future. OUR future. There was no way he was giving up on them. On me. On US.”

“I wish all of the patients here at someone like you in their corner. I like to think that if they did, they’d heal a lot faster; knowing that someone is fighting for them and making sure they get nothing but the best. Do you know how many have no one? Whose families have just given up and stopped coming altogether?”

“I can’t even imagine being that way. Just abandoning someone. Especially someone I love. How do you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night? Pretending as if they don’t even exist anymore?”

“I don’t understand it myself.”

“It’s just so sad. The thought of them being all alone. No one caring about them. I know it’s not easy; seeing someone at their worst and not knowing if they’re going to make it or not. It’s hard; to lose someone you care about. But ignoring them and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make it all go away.”

“And the guilt afterwards? The regret? If they DO die?”

“I couldn’t live with myself. I wasn’t going to do that to Tyler; just leave him here and go on with my life. I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserves so much better than that. And if he was going to die, I was going to make sure he had someone here with him.”

“I assumed you’d been with him for a long time. Considering how hard you fought. How you wouldn’t back down.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. The way I am. So soon after meeting someone. But I know how I feel. About him. And I know it isn’t wrong. Because nothing wrong could ever feel this right.”

“There’s no rules. No time limit. Whether it’s weeks, months or years that you’ve known someone. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“They don’t even try anymore,” Esme laughs, and leans back in her chair. “They know it’s a lost cause. My family gave up a long time ago.”

For several minutes they go co-exist in silence; Esme watching as the nurse tends to replacing IV and catheter bags, resetting the timer on the pain pump, and using an iPad to jot down the various numbers in regard to his vitals. And she’s beginning to doze off once more when the younger woman’s voice captures her attention; her head snapping up and her eyes flickering open.

“He’s got quite the hold on you there,” the nurse nods down at the bed; Tyler’s hand covering one of Esme’s feet in a surprisingly strong grip.

She wonders when he’d done it. If it was a subconscious moment while he was sleeping or if he’d woken up briefly and intentionally took hold of her. “He’s protective. Even while he’s like this. Just wants to keep an eye on me. Make sure nothing bad happens. Or I don’t get away.”

“I don’t think he has to worry about that. Especially that last part. You know, if you want to get out of here for a bit, I don’t mind sticking around. This was my last patient for these rounds. So if you want to go grab a tea or something to eat or eve get some fresh air…”

“I don’t want to leave him alone. If he wakes up and I’m not here, he might freak out. He might…”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll be right here. Sitting with him. I don’t mind spending my break here. You need some time to yourself. Even if it’s just to wander around a bit. Feel the sun on your face. The worst is over; he’s done his time in hell and come out the other side. You can breathe again.”

She chews on her bottom lip; considering the opportunity that’s been presented to her. And sighing, she turns her teary eyes towards the younger woman. “Please take care of him.”

“Of course. He’s in good hands.”

Giving a nod of approval and a smile of appreciation, she stands; pushing her chair away before approaching the side of the bed. Running her fingers through her hair before holding it back off his forehead; lips meeting warm, smooth skin.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, a fingertip lightly trailing down the scar that inhabits the left side of his brow. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? I won’t be gone long. I’m not leaving. You don’t EVER have to worry about that.”