frobisheries

zombiemoritz  asked:

sixbisher, post-apocalyptic au?

The message came in the middle of the night, or at least, it felt like the middle of the night. Sometimes Sixsmith couldn’t tell what time of day it was anymore. Not since the blackout began.

He picked up the reader “(2) MESSAGES FROM R. FROBISHER” flashed across the screen. With a swipe of his fingers the message opened.

(½) Sixsmith: Finally found a place with a roof, for once, and there’s even a generator. Used it to charge the reader so I could send this message. I know you are worried about me, but there’s no need. I will be fine here for now. There is no one in this area as far as I can tell. The silence is honestly the most beautiful music I’ve heard in months. I wish you could share it

(2/2) with me.  Please don’t respond to this. There won’t be enough power left. - RF    P.S. I found a piano here. It still plays.

Rufus stared at the screen in the darkness until it dimmed to black. For moment he felt Robert alive again. For just a moment, he wasn’t receiving delayed messages from a dead man.

zombiemoritz  asked:

oh my god newt and hermann ♤ (cooking headcanon)

if asked, Newt swears up and down he can cook, but he can’t. He’s the only person in the universe who could fuck up and Easy Bake Oven cake (and he has…). In college, he was notorious for putting something in the microwave, and forgetting about it until one of his roommates discovered it later, and throws it out (or throws it on his desk).

Hermann can cook, and actually bake quite well. while stationed at the Shatterdome he’s often too busy, but he has been known to bake in the middle of the night when something he’s working on is particularly difficult. he doesn’t always finish though because something about the mixing phase usually gets his mind back on track. (the few times he DID do this at the Shatterdome, Newt wandered in the kitchen, and ate the batter out of the bowl.)

zombiemoritz  asked:

Fuck Marry Hug: Jared Leto, Jensen Ackles, Benedict Cumberbatch

Oh god. Uhhhhhh.

Fuck Jared, bc come on just look at him can I get a holy jamalama

Hug Jensen, bc he’s married already and I love them together too much to separate them, and marry Benny bc omfg I would love to just listen to him talk forever bc he’s so funny and intelligent and wonderful and also pretty asdlfkjasdlgh

zombiemoritz  asked:

Frobismith - both of them are hired assassins on a job. Whether to kill each other or to go after a target together is up to you. (I don't know where this even came from)

Sixsmith is pulling out the knife from his boot sheath when a bullet tears through the window and effectively shoots down the target.

He doesn’t spare a glance at the body lying on the ground as he approaches the shattered window quickly.

There.

On the roof of the building across the street, a lithe figure disarms a sniper rifle.

Sixsmith doesn’t have time to alert the dead businessman’s PA of his departure and so he leaves the leaking body there in favor of catching the man who has chosen to take down his target.

“It’s Sixsmith,” he murmurs into his untraceable phone as he makes his way across the street.

“What is it? Has something gone wrong?” his supervisor asks.

“The outcome is as anticipated, but the head of Johnson Enterprises didn’t die from my hands, sir.”

The other line goes silent for all of two seconds as Sixsmith climbs the stairs of the apartment building all the way to the roof.

“I want a name, Sixsmith.”

“Will do sir,” he replies before slipping his phone into his pocket and approaching the roof door.

“Rufus Sixsmith,” Sixsmith stares at the shockingly beautiful stranger sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the roof. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“How do you know me?” Sixsmith says as he pulls his gun out from the small of his back.

The stranger smiles and Sixsmith can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. “It seems you have yet to regain your memories.”

“What memories? What are you talking about?” Sixsmith advances towards him.

“My dearest Sixsmith,” the man sighs.

A sharp pain grows at the back of his head.

“You always were one to easily forget.”

Sixsmith’s brows furrow and he becomes so distracted by his confusion and headache that he almost doesn’t notice the sad smile on the other man’s face.

“I’ll ask again,” Sixsmith frowns in irritation. “Who are you?”

“You’re a bright one, Sixsmith,” he replies as he rises to stand on the ledge. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll remember.”

And with those last words, the man leans back and falls from the roof with his arms outstretched and his gun bag slung from his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting for you there,” the man adds as a sort of afterthought.

“No!” the exclamation unconsciously rips from Sixsmith’s throat as he runs to the roof’s edge.

Fortunately, there is no man falling to his death once he looks down. Unfortunately, this means he’s escaped and Sixsmith’s got to find him.

As his pounding headache subsides, Sixsmith finds that he’s not all bothered by the fact.

In fact, he’s sort of relieved.