blacklisted.

         # indizien .   an independent roleplay account for canon and original muses within the crime genre,   frequently canon-divergent and affiliated with the canon of special agent moa zhao.   investigated and put behind bars by lyn   ( she / her by default, any pronouns are fine ).   gmt+2 and based in central europe,   low to medium activity due to university.   private,  plot-heavy,   affiliated with stfreds,   and exclusive with fierceminded’s rendition of elizabeth keen.   discord is available for mutuals.   banner credit to shebb.

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.   Joe’s Piano Bar gains popularity around this season,   the chatter of patrons a familiar hum in the background.   Killing time,   Douglas finds,   is quite similar to killing a MAN ――   except less quiet.   The guests are satisfied,   the music accentuating a conglomeration of discussions keeps everyone happy,   and so attention UNDIVIDEDLY rests on Paige for the first time this evening.     “ You’re a meticulous actress, ”     he eventually says, hand reaching for another tumbler to dry.      “ What’s on your mind, Pip?   You’ve been smiling all evening,   could’ve thought Turner found a buried treasure chest if I didn’t know you better. ”

𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐒 & 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 .   /   fred & astoria *

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 —— or it would be, had she accounted for the unaccountable wanderings of moa zhao and, even worse, her ball-and-chain of a sister ( -ish ? acquired sister, like the taste of a very savory cheese that has to grow on you over the span of a whole lifetime, more or less ? ) and her enjoyment in disrupting fred’s great escapades. the car’s gone —— it’s either a half hour walk into town with a chance for rain, or bust. “ i told you we were gonna be late, i —— ” the shrill complaint aimed at astoria dies with a bit of a startled jump as she turns and meets tom’s eyes, her own instantly narrowing in playful mischief. “ we weren’t grounded, we —— ”, a look to her partner in crime, in search of an answer. “ …were studying ? yeah, and what would you know about that anyway ? such a well mannered, polite good boy you are… ”, but the offense lasts as long as it takes to notice the dumb, doe-eyed look on astoria’s face, and whatever blow she could offer turns into a groan. “ gimme one of those ”, she sighs, sitting beside him, glaring darts in astoria’s direction, the meaning of them pretty blatant: behave yourself or i’m locking you back inside. 

“Are you ever going to take responsibility for yourself? Oh, poor pitiful Fred, look at me, I’m so sad — we wouldn’t be running late if you didn’t keep stealing my favorite boots and sending me on scavenger hunts to find them — ” But there’s the sound of another voice that cuts through the layered bickering, and Astoria’s lips curl slowly into a Cheshire grin, bright and troublesome and just a touch too eager, when she turns to see the speaker. She notes with some amusement how Fred’s protests die out; at least she knows a losing battle when she sees one. So sue her; pretty boys who get into trouble are a weakness. “There’s never anything going on in Haven,” she snorts, and she reaches forward to pluck the cigarette from between his fingers. She considers the two of them for a moment before she brings the cigarette to her mouth. “We did get grounded. Apparently, you’re not supposed to steal exact-o knives from the science lab, but Little Miss Jack the Ripper over there didn’t get the memo, and since I provided the alibi, I got looped in, too.” She reaches forward, holds the cigarette out for Tom to take back. “Did you bring us something fun to do, or are you just here to improve the scenery?”

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓   as though he doesn’t care about any justified accusation,   is thrown in Freddie’s direction the moment she chirps up. And he’s stopped WONDERING a long time ago whether the tamer one of both redheads merely commits to the drivel of her equally as red-headed counterpart out of peer-pressure.   Perhaps it’s fate;   be raised by a cop and you become a NUISANCE.     “ Right,   because your get-up probably has nothing to do with handsome,   tall,   definitely not as well-mannered,   Kal Abørn,   does it? ”     Green eyes give her the once-over,   provocatively explicit in their scrutiny   until fingertips wrapping around the stem between his teeth forces gaze away.   There’s a SURPRISED look upon Tom’s features,   the straight-forwardness impressive ――   and cocky in a way that makes him halt,   momentarily intrigued.     “ I beg to differ.   If there’s anyone improving the scenery,   it’s the both of you failing to sneak off. ”     Grin tugs on cigarette-less lips before arm reaches behind the bench he’s comfortably sat upon and pulls out two bottles of beer,   the first of both promptly ECHANGED for his nicotine.     “ What did you wanna do with the exact-o knives anyway? ”     Eyes back on Freddie,   brows risen.     “ Never took you for a serial killer.   But it’s always the pretty ones, huh? ”

          𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍, 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 ――   and it’s nice to be able to sleep in on the weekend,   the apartment unusually quiet without Agnes running about;   he’ll pick her up at five,   perhaps even LATER if she decides to spend a little more time with her new friends from school.   His cup of coffee is set down,   eyes momentarily catching Fred scavenging the fridge for the last bits of ORANGE JUICE.     “ You know, at this point I either become a thief or ask Moa for financial support. ”     Means it as a joke but the frustration is visibly written across a forehead.     “ You remember Philip Simmons?   That insufferable teacher I mentioned? ――   he’s been bragging about sending his kid to Camp Laurel in Maine.   Can’t shut up about how it’s his ‘ responsibility ’ as a ‘ good father ’ to give his son that experience. ”

𝐌𝐂𝐋𝐓𝐈 .   /   kat *

✧      ☾      :                   kat had always followed her gut when it came to things that she didn’t understand or was unsure about. she had learnt the hard way what happens when she doesn’t listen to it. after that event five years ago, she vowed that she would never NOT listen to her gut again. so when her it was telling her to trust THIS person, as much as she didn’t want to, she knew that she had to. the coffee cup was held in her left hand, while her own was in her right - some reason both orders had come naturally to her, they were both the same except kat had a lot more milk in hers.

                                  teeth chewed on the corner of her lips, before she took a deep breathe - the lab had been bustling with activity ever since peter showed up, walter seeming a little more lively - even if he wouldn’t admit it. her nose twitched and kat just decided to walk over - holding the cup out in his direction, the brunette cleared her throat and let a smile pull on her lips. ❛ i uh .. ❜ she stumbled over her words before she shifted in her spot. ❛ i got you a coffee. ❜ the smile pulled into a bigger one. ❛ just thought we could do with one. ❜  

                                                    [ @indizien​ for peter. ]

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃;   he could have lived with Olivia’s distrust and the way she hovered over him in the lab.   But Walter’s refusal to even listen to him speak was entirely different   and it cared little however carefully TRAINED his exterior was to discourage any heedless reactions.   Perhaps it was childish to think that he would remember him.   Walter wasn’t even his biological father,   hadn’t raised him,   not even after bringing him into his home.   But part of him wanted to believe that the man who had rescued him,   not just once but TWICE,   would remember him,   would recognise him somehow.   Or at least,   trust him enough to consider his annotations.

Kathryn’s approach was unexpected,   brows rising in the way they used to do ――   telepathy.   They used to be good at that.   But ever since his return,   Peter had not gotten much time to talk to her in private ――   and if he was honest, he didn’t WANT to talk to her either.   Not if it meant realising that she,   too,   no longer remembered or recognised him.   It was easy to argue that it made sense;   she had been a child when her brother had died,   Walter had not.   Perhaps she had OUTGROWN the memory,   and perhaps it was better that way.   Perhaps he just needed to find his way home.

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋 .   /     albert *

AN UNSETTLING CALM DESCENDS OVER THE PAIR. One entreats in an impassioned manner while the other observes, impartial. Aroused by the sheer madness of the idea formulating, balancing on the tip of his proverbially forked tongue. 

That ‘other’ crosses a leg over its counterpart and balances his chin on one hand, enthroned upon the good doctor’s plush armchair. He muses on Dr. Langford’s capability, how far his peer’s mind might be pushed to its limits if put to the right use. 

Away from the CDC’s surface level theatrics. Benevolence goes hand in hand with amassing profit — for Wesker, there’s always bigger fish to fry. ( And, at least he’s not living out his days lying to himself. )

“ The reasoning used decades prior to create the bioweapons your people see nowadays, ” He begins, “ Was the same used in the development of vaccines for deadly diseases. ” There is a thin line in international law between what is prohibited and what is acceptable. “ The Biological Weapons Prohibition Pact has long since been breached, Michael. You’re asking the impossible. ” By asking him to reconsider using himself as a live test subject for his magnum opus, countless would be jeopardized. A quandary few might consider. 

“ The Uroboros is a cure as much as it is a weapon. ” And this is where the scientist allows a semblance of original mania to display, the temperature of the room dropping just so — as the strain of his work wars with a second strain. The one that happens to be coursing within pronounced veins. “ I will inoculate myself with its primary strain for my own reasons…you may consider it a modernized case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I merely ask I am placed under your observation. ”

          𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄,   and however much Michael attempts to counteract it ――   to quench the fire and make his friend think perhaps for just another minute,   any insistence of whichever VOLUME falls on deaf ears.   He should have studied psychiatry,   should have devoured any and all psychologic theories to perhaps at one point be able to UNDERSTAND what delusional mania hid behind Albert Wesker’s calculated form of instrumental rationality.   Instead,   the infectious disease specialist is left with the exhalation of a sharp breath,   one that resembles disbelieving laughter.