FcKPandora_Box

Writer, game master

[pandorafck]

Necessity

"Is it such a necessity? Seriously?!" V's voice suddenly rose to a high note for him.

His head was spinning, heart was pounding madly against ribs, almost causing pain, then suddenly stopped inside, causing breathing to falter. He was afraid of the damn ghost. The ghost of his mother, who couldn't hurt him, but still had a huge influence on him and on everyone in general.

"Necessity," Sister said in her usual cold and sharp voice. The young-looking woman adjusted her cape, as if dust had accumulated on it. "You hate him, so what's the problem with eliminating him?"

Perpetua's lip trembled, his eyelid twitched, and his heart skipped a beat again.

"He's my brother..." he breathed through gritted teeth.

"And?" she asked, her voice so indifferent that it was more terrifying than any sharpened blade in his stomach. "You've done worse things, so what's changed? Is it just the fact that you're related by blood? Or is it that you've developed a Christian conscience?"

Her words pierced through his skin, reaching deep into his soul... Or what was left of it after his dark initiation and equally dark deeds for the Devil. She was right: killing someone for the greater good was the least of his sins. And he really didn't like his brother, but not enough to kill him... He was like Cain, who offered Abel to God to appease him. But Cain did it out of his own desire and envy, while he did it because it was necessary. Because otherwise, they would get rid of him as a weak link, as trash. But V didn't see himself that way. He did and could things that Cardi only saw in his nightmares!

"Why can't we let him go?" Perpetua spoke softly, bowing his head.

His eyes burned into the floor, his thoughts flying chaotically in his mind, banging against the walls of rules, orders, and damned obedience: to her, to the Master, to the Ministry, to his oaths... He could take his brother's place by force, leave him with nothing on the fringes. And V didn't understand why he didn't have the courage to take the Copia's life. Great Hell, his blood was worth nothing! He's a jerk with a huge bright soul, and he could never hurt anyone! It was annoying, there was anger, but anger for his brother's weakness, not for who he was.

And he was a victim of his own mother.

Just like he is now.

"The car will be waiting for you tomorrow…"

"No..." he whispered, realizing what method of death his mother had come up with.

"An accident. According to our information, the Cardinal will leave the Abbey tomorrow and…"

"No," his voice got louder. "Don't force me."

"It's a necessity," Mary repeated her words. She took a step towards her son and raised her hand to his chin, as if even grabbing him.

Perpetua pursed his lips and tilted his head back so that the ghostly cold would not burn him.

"Do what needs to be done," Sister said, driving the words into V's skull. "I want to see strength. And I finally see it. Don't make us all doubt."

He grimaced, closing his eyes against the hellish, icy touch, and nodded. Even in death, this woman was powerful. She weaved her threads like a skilled spider.

He would have to obey.

***

V wouldn't have recognized himself in the mirror: a tail, no makeup, no mask, no ostentatious attire. Just a man, a passerby, someone whose face no one would ever remember, no matter how hard they tried. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. This was how he considered himself, because he did not want to think that he would kill the Cardinal. Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles ached, Perpetua whispered prayers. All the prayers he knew, a mix of satanic and Christian. It was sinful on both sides, but he didn't care.

As soon as the voice in his earpiece gave the order, he started the truck. It was difficult, and his hands were unsteady. He started the truck and stepped on the pedal.

Should he say that it didn't work? That... That Cardi turned somewhere the truck couldn't go? Or... Should he say that the truck wouldn't start at all?

Perpetua slapped his face, trying to gather his thoughts.

This had to be done.

He could already see the tops of the abbey, and the familiar fence was approaching. And then the Copia came out, walking along the sidewalk with his stupid boombox, and then he was going to cross the road...

V honked the horn, hoping that his brother would hear it and jump back.

He didn't jump back. He just turned his head, looking as confused as always.

A thud sounded on the truck's body, blood splattered, and there was darkness and splashes in front of his eyes.

V didn't slow down, just drove away to the designated location. Like a death-bringer.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to jump in front of the car... So he wouldn't have to blame himself for it. Or anything else. https://archiveofourown.org/works/81143111

[pandorafck]

Stein and Papa

Final Part 4

Blood from his split forehead was pouring into his eye. Sweat mixed with the water that he had previously splashed on himself. The stage is hot, it smells of gasoline and kerosene because of pyrotechnics. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breathing was a little erratic. The vein in his temple throbbed to the beat of his heart.

Everything happened so fast that the band barely had time to figure it out. After getting drunk, Richard seriously invited Tobias to sing a song with the band. Just one, the one that will be at the end of the performance. The second day of the festival, the second part of the set. It would seem that what are the surprises? But apparently they are.

Tobias enthusiastically agreed. Just like the others. The organizers didn't mind either.

Except Till, and it was as if they hadn't even asked him. Really, why? He just had to accept that Sonne wasn't going to sing alone anymore.

During the rehearsal, Tobias was mostly told where the volley of fire would come from and where to stand for safety.

Forge knew the song by heart and had an almost good pronunciation of German. He was like a joyful child who was now having fun at this notorious Willy Wonka factory... But he must say, Forge had a pleasant spark of enthusiasm that seemed to extend to everyone. Till couldn't get angry or annoyed. To some extent, he also enjoyed this little prank that the groups allowed themselves.

So the drums and keyboards came into play, starting with a familiar-sounding report before the song began. Then, powerful reefs tearing everything to shreds. Till, along with the others, began to sway from side to side to the rhythm, giving himself one hundred percent to the music. Breathing with such an active movement is lost instantly and the first words of the song always came out hoarse.

The shaking started again to the rhythm. And again the hoarse, almost recitative-like singing.

"Die Sonne scheint mir aus den Augen!" He almost shouted these lines.

"Und die Welt zählt laut bis zehn," The crowd shouted back.

And Tobias joined in on the chorus, coming on stage like the lamb of God.

The fire blazed from the cannons, only accentuating his somewhat hellish appearance. They sang together, as a duet, causing the crowd to go into fits of shock and wild delight. No one expected this. Their voices blended into a pleasant harmony of hoarse bass and languid baritone. And both voices were very different from their real voices. The images remain unchanged: the cold, powerful "Commander" with madness in his eyes and the mannered, glamorous and hyper sexualized Terzo. And it also combined with each other, just because of the contrast of behaviors.

Tobias acted as if he was singing about "the rising Sun" with Till in mind. And he was this very Sun, who waved away his ward, ignoring him and mocking him. He is an aggressive machine, a God who demands attention and worship. And how lucky it was that his Dad was with him, that he had to bow to just the way Lindemann was on stage.

And the audience? The audience are lowly observers of how the Sun burned down that silly man.

On a melodic loss, when a female voice gently hummed a melody, Till usually got down on one knee, bowing his head. But this time he was standing straight while Tobias was kneeling at his feet.

And it will happen again, but under slightly different circumstances.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78958926/chapters/207107636

[pandorafck]

Stein and Papa

Part 3

The tent wasn't a dressing room, at least it wasn't as hot and stuffy as it was indoors. Music, booze, men, women, carousing — everything is as usual. As the years go by, this does not change in the musical environment. No one cared, you were soaked in the remnants of makeup right after the performance and, frankly, you stink, in your stage clothes — it doesn't matter, the main thing is to hang out together. Pour out the energy received from the crowd, otherwise you will explode like an overheated reactor.

Till was stripped to the waist, it was still hot, and the damn cold beer didn't help. Stage trousers made of rough leather and massive boots emphasized his weighty and powerful figure. Lindemann was chatting with someone until he noticed that someone new had entered the tent. Vaguely, the face seemed familiar to him. And when Richard's shout of joy rang out, everything fell into place.

Tobias was still in makeup, but very smudged. He was wearing a black shirt that was completely unbuttoned and black trousers with a chain.

"Damn, a lot of people," Forge grinned, looking around.

"I also said it was too much," Till boomed, moving closer to the men.

"Hi!" Tobias whistled when he saw the bare—chested German frontman.

"All our friends are here," Kruspe said with a grin. "And this things..." Richard pointed to his face, hinting at the makeup of the Swede.

"Oh, no, it's more... habit thing. Yes, I was discovered earlier this year, but makeup and masks are more like... my thing," Tobias waved off.

"Discovered?" Till asked, not understanding.

"There was one trial, it doesn't matter what, but it so happened that when you are sued, everyone knows your name", Tobias shrugged, wincing.

"And before that…"

"No one knew us before that. Names in the sense. Mine was somewhere on the Internet, but just like the theory."

Were their masks not as part of a stage image, but as a way to keep their identity a secret? It's interesting.

"Masks, of course, sometimes cause bouts of claustrophobia, but ... tolerable. And you also hide your face in makeup. So everyone knows that Terzo came, not some Tobias," the Swede grinned, baring his slightly protruding fangs in a grin.

Till chuckled. Protecting your identity is interesting. There are no problems doing anything on stage, and then peacefully drinking tea somewhere in a coffee shop and behaving like an ordinary person. But on the other hand, it was also stupid to deny what you were doing on stage as part of your inner Self. Because for him, the stage is an outlet and a way to let off steam and unspoken thoughts that were going on in his soul.

"I thought it was to avoid being afraid of crowds," Till said, sipping his beer.

"I have no stage fright. Would that be... weird then? Or I would be somewhere behind, like a bass player," Forge replied.

"It's strange, of course. Till, out there, suffers from Peyrophobia, so think about how we perform," Richard said with a grin.

Lindemann sighed. Kruspe is a boneless tongue.

"Really?" I would never say that," Tobias was surprised.

"It was hard at first. I even wore glasses with slits to see less people. And he didn't look at the crowd. And to this day I don't watch it. There's an image on the stage, you know," Till said in a low, even voice. "Confidence, strength, and all that shit."

"Then I guess I'm glad the real Lindemann isn't like that," Tobias smiled. Damn, what? Till frowned in disbelief, looking at his interlocutor. "I mean, it would be difficult to communicate with a psycho who could set you on fire in a saucepan."

"Well, yes, of course... " the German replied a little absently.

"Okay, guys, I'm going to take a piss," Richard said suddenly, setting the beer bottle down on the table.

Till took a sip of his beer. Tobias looked at the table and what else he could take from it. He made a "phu-pho-pho" sound, stroking his hands as he searched for a more or less tolerable alcohol.

"By the way, that's why I think you're brave, especially you, Till," he said, picking up a bottle of dark bear.

"Because we… Setting our keyboard players on fire on stage?" Lindemann asked.

"Huh, yes, definitely," the Swede smiled and opened the bottle, not forgetting to click his mouth for some reason, emphasizing the sound with which the lid opened.

"Who's talking..." muttered Till.

"Oh, did you see us? Damn, I'm embarrassed now. Did we look good?" Tobias was joking.

"You saw that I was standing behind the stage."

"Really?" He feigned surprise in such a way that Lindemann thought the musician really hadn't noticed him there. Or he continued to tease him, and skillfully. "But my question still stands."

"Richard is right about you. Everything was cool," the German replied in his usual low—pedigree manner.

"You're a little dry... But it's probably the best thing I could hear from someone I've seen on posters before and listened to on headphones," Forge took a sip of beer and clicked his tongue. "What a mess."

"I agree with that.

They fell silent. There were voices, music, and laughter all around. And next to it, a very quiet humming of some kind of melody.

"It's all unusual," Tobias said, looking around. "I personally know only a couple of people here. Like I said, we don't usually hang out like this after. My guys are sometimes even confused with the technical staff. So it would be strange if we came here like no one knows who. And it's a little difficult to drink in masks."

"And all to... keep the identity secret?"

"Yes. Let them discuss my characters better than the fact that Tobias Forge personally blew kisses to Till Lindemann himself," he laughed.

"So you saw that I was standing!" Till was almost indignant.

"Of course!" He was having fun. "It surprised me at first, but you also watched at the rehearsal, and then at the performance. Why, may I ask?"

Lindemann chuckled and took a sip of beer.

"Observation is an experience. And I haven't seen you before. I've only heard it a couple of times. I was curious."

"I'm still amazed that my idol is interested in me," Forge giggled. He clicked his tongue again and twitched his eyebrows.

Something hummed somewhere inside Till. Tobias didn't seem to get out of the image of that Dad on stage and continued to... flirt?

Stupidity.

But he's a young guy, full of stupidity in his head. Lindemann was the same.

It is unlikely that he greased himself and tried to establish some kind of connections in order to promote the group. Ghost was already a good success and popularity. Soon they will start headlining themselves.

Rather, he was... just the kind of person who enjoyed the chance to communicate on equal terms with someone he admired.

"How do you know Richard?" Till asked.

"Oh, for a while. We crossed paths once and occasionally also see each other by chance. Richard really wants to do something together," Tobias replied. "Do you mind?"

"Why should I?" Lindemann arched a questioning eyebrow.

"You never know. I do not know what kind of "joint" he was talking about. For Rammstein or, he has his own solo album, maybe there."

"Why not do both?" Kruspe said, returning. "To play on the same stage, say, m? We can even wear masks and your costumes to sing your something. Or vice versa, but then you'll have to share the stage with this madman."

"I'll choose the latter,— Tobias smiled.

Of course, who would ask the frontman about his wishes.

There was a certain tendency of abusive relations already between the vocalist and the lead guitarist of Rammstein.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78958926/chapters/207107636

[pandorafck]

Stein and Papa

Part 2

Till was backstage again, but this time, so to speak, during the parade. He was watching again. And again for Ghost, who now performed fully.

Eccentric, beautiful, and on a grand scale for festival concerts. Tobias was already wearing a full-fledged mask and an elegant black doublet with white gloves. Richard said that Forge played different Papas who worshipped Satan. And now it was the phase of Papa Emeritus III, aka Terzo. He acted like he was seducing someone. He made out with the microphone stand, mannered, and... damn, why was he satisfying an invisible woman? But should the Rammstein frontman be surprised about sexual liberation at performances? Definitely not.

Terzo turned his head, most likely by accident, towards the place where Till was standing, and didn't even seem surprised. Taking the microphone from the stand, he continued to sing and moved to one of the platforms on which he sat down. And like some flirtatious girl who was waiting for her prince on a white horse, he began to swing his legs and fix his invisible hair. Then he crossed his legs, turned his head back towards Till and blew him a kiss.

The crowd roared at the Papa's gesture.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Terzo got up and continued his performance, flirting with everyone.

But…

What was that just now? He was looking at Lindemann precisely and directly, and Lindemann understood this perfectly well.

What a jerk.

But the image remained in Till's head. Like everything Terzo did with the microphone.

Till usually has an abusive relationship with microphones — he beat them with his head.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78958926/chapters/207107636

[pandorafck]

Stein and Papa

My friend and I, in a burst of creative inspiration, came up with this crazy thing. To your attention, I want to review my work on two fandoms.: Ghost and Rammstein. In particular, the main characters and the main couple will be Tobias Forge and Till Lindemann. I know it's weird, but I don't care) The work will be a collection of stories. Warning: Alternate universe Part 1

Festival runs are something that all musicians "loved". There is limited time for rehearsal, although the stage is large, it does not accommodate all the decorations that the musicians carry with them, and you need to share it not only with you beautiful ones, but with at least ten more equally beautiful ones. Therefore, for example, the whole huge... pyrotechnic talent of Rammstein did not fit into the setlist of six songs. But fortunately, they were the last to perform, so they could roam a little more than the others.

But being the last to perform means being the last to rehearse. Till and the rest of the band stood behind the stage, watching the Ghost band finish their rehearsal. It's funny that almost every time German and Swedish musicians equally shared the stage at festivals. Oh yes, they occupied a rather huge niche in the metal genre, so it's not surprising that they were often the ones who took all the attention to themselves.

But this was the first time Rammstein and Ghost had crossed paths. They heard about each other, but we haven't seen each other in person. Until this moment

"Maybe we should update the costumes?" Richard asked over the loud music.

"Eh?" What are you talking about?" Till asked, looking up from watching the Swedes rehearse.

"You weren't listening to what I was saying? Damn, Till, I mean these guys," he nodded at the stage. "I told you they have a great show. Tobias is talented, he plows like hell. And that they have fire suits. When will we change ours?

"I'm fine with that," Till shrugged, turning his head back.

"Do you want to say that we have achieved our ideal?" Kruspe asked with a sneer in his voice.

"I'm telling you to shut up," Lindemann muttered.

His gaze was now focused on the vocalist. What did Richard call him? Tobias?

It's a curious fact that the Swedish musicians were almost in their stage costumes at the rehearsal. Everyone is wearing masks, someone is wearing makeup, like a vocalist… To what end? It's a good few hours before the start. But the vocalist, Tobias this one, really gave himself even in rehearsal. Sometimes he interrupted the songs, went from participant to participant, explained something, even showed, picking up an instrument. Hardworking and responsible, Till loved these qualities in people. He also just liked watching others work, studying them, noticing something interesting. It was inspiring sometimes, and very powerful. The Swedes sang in some kind of pop metal with religious references, you don't see that every day.

After a while, Ghost finished and moved off the stage just in the direction where the members of Rammstein were standing. Richard, as perhaps the most sociable, greeted everyone and praised the musicians. Tobias came last. He stopped when he saw the Germans and whistled. His eyes exuded surprise, like those of a child who was brought to the Willy Wonka factory.

"May I die," he said in a quiet, calm, very intelligent and a little shy voice with a slight hoarseness. "Of course, I saw that we would be on the same stage with Rammstein, but I did not think that we would meet!"

"The stage is very small, just like the music world," Kruspe grinned. "Hi, dude."

"Hi, Richard! Guys, I'm Tobias Forge," he introduced the others and shook hands with everyone, including Till. Now there was amazement in the Swede's eyes, as if he had met God in person. "I'll sound like a fan, which I am, but I've been listening to you for a long time. You're really cool," Forge said, smiling even wider and more joyfully. He really had this fan fervor when he saw the idol.

"Yes, it would be even cooler if we finally changed our images," Richard grinned, looking at his friend.

Till rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Is stability a sign of mastery?" Forge smiled and snapped his fingers.

"Not when it's just a piece of stale bread," Kruspe replied, leaning on their vocalist's shoulder. "What about the afterparty? Can you convince this big guy that we could use something new?"

Till was ready to kill their guitarist on the spot.

"Well... We don't really have a party after, but..." Tobias looked around at Rammstein and stopped at Till, who still didn't say a word. "I'm being invited the glorious Germans, but will I refuse? Hah, okay, I agree!"

"Learn, Till," Richard winked at him. "Then after all, will we have a yes? Take whoever you want with you."

After shaking Tobias's hand once more, Kruspe, like the others, moved to the stage.

"I don't know where you can be cooler than what you have,— Forge told Till, who went last.

Lindemann stopped and turned around. But Tobias was already gone, whistling and tapping a tune. Engel or something?..

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78958926/chapters/207107636