#I thought of this because the kids I tutor make me full body cringe sometimes but I let those little freaks call me lame because I have

[violent138]

Bruce, pouring vodka into a battered dad mug, watching his godawful embarrassing pre-teens interact with other kids: "Oh God, Alfred, was I also that embarr--"

Alfred: "Unfortunately you were much worse, sir."

[sailorsanghelios]

Some backstory fic for my Au’ra WOL

I meant to get this done during Au’ra April but uhh -looks at calendar- yeah that didn’t happen. But some backstory stuff for my Thel Vadam inspired Au’ra, Seiro, who I’ve posted stuff for before.  Uhh CW for fantasy racism stuff and imperialism, cause there’s a lot of Garlemald focus in this. 

----- It was a beautiful day, a sunny day, as he rolled down one of the vast hills that rolled across his homeland.

“ you won’t catch me, Papa!”

The tall Au’ra who followed after him, his face was hard to make out, more of a dark blur with horns then anything. And yet he could tell the older man was smiling, “I have never had a man escape me, and I will not let you be the first.”

He had giggled at his father before descending down the hill. His father had immediately broken from the jovial mood, “Seiro be careful!”

He had landed  right into the rice paddies below, gasping for breath as he re-emerged soaking wet. His mouth was barely above the water, his limbs and body were weighed down, and his head felt like it was being shoved down into the water below.

He looked up, hoping to see his father about to rescue him, and all he saw on the hill above before his head submerged a final time was a sleek soulless black uniformed figure.

“Seiro..”

Wait, that was…

—-

Seiro jolted awake, the fields of Doma had disappeared, into a stark white bedroom, the beautiful Doman sun faded into the cloudy overcast of Garlemald barely seeping into the window.

And Lord Veritas was peering over him looking very displeased. “Seiro aan Veritas” He had a tendency to use his full name, when he was displeased, emphasizing the “aan” portion. He motioned with his finger to get up, and Seiro didn’t spare a second, instantly getting up, and bowing to his benefactor.

“You’re still wearing your nightshirt… did you truly sleep until the afternoon, and did nothing productive all morning? Knowing I'll be arriving home today?” 

Seiro awkwardly crossed his arms around the offending garment in embarrassment, “I’m sorry Lord Veritas. The servants must not have awoken me.”

Seiro did suspect perhaps it was deliberate to make him look like a fool. During Lord Veritas’ two month stay in Bozja, Seiro had in essence been left in charge of the manor, a very large responsibility for any twelve year old, let alone a non Garlean one. And one the servants had obviously resented. He had heard them whispering, when they thought he couldn’t hear him, calling him names and talking about how degrading it was to have to serve him, even though Seiro himself only depended on them for necessities. 

“Only a child would sleep that long. A baby even. I am very disappointed in you.”

“Yes Lord Veritas.”

Lord Veritas gave out a sigh, almost dismissively “I hope you at least had good sleep. You looked quite intense. What were you dreaming about?”

Seiro realized this was a prompt for him to speak, and he had no idea how Lord Veritas could read him so well, and know what he’d been dreaming about, “I was dreaming about Doma...and my father- the samurai I think…” If he attempted to lie he knew that Lord Veritas would call him out on it.  And he never liked him referring to his father, the man who had killed Sosius eir Veritas. His son.

“You think?”

Seiro looked down to the ground, “... I.. I can’t remember. His face...or anything...”

“That is what I hoped for. He should only be remembered as a cautionary tale.” Lord Veritas looked at him from head to toe, “Stand up straight, boy,”

Before the command was even finished, Seiro did so, and Lord Veritas genuinely seemed surprised and caught off guard, “You’re taller than me.”

This shocked Seiro but there was no denying it. It was only by an ilm. “I think I grew while you were gone.” He sounded apologetic about it. The servants had been side-eying him a lot, for what felt like an unending appetite, and his clothes had felt unusually tight. As much as he didn’t want to be a burden, he’d probably have to ask for new ones. 

Seiro was surprised by what followed from Lord Veritas, “It suits you. You’ve grown so much over the past five years, Seiro. I never thought I’d miss that little boy so much. Those little horns..” Seiro couldn’t help but crack a small awkward smile, as Lord Veritas stroked the end of one of his horns, that were not quite as little and were beginning to sharpen and harden into their adult forms, “ And I was thinking about that, and you the entire time I was in Bozja.”

Seiro tilted his head in confusion.

“ I brought an orphan home with me. With all the success I had with taming you, I thought perhaps I could be of help to another aan child.”

“...what?” Seiro’s voice cracked childishly, “ Lord Veritas I’m.. are you sure?”  It was a rather bold question to ask, but Seiro also knew he wasn’t exactly taken in by choice. If his father, no if the samurai, hadn’t killed Lord Veritas’ son, then he probably would never have been noticed by him. “What will the senators think? I know they already-”

“ Do not concern yourself with such things. It isn’t your lot to worry about Garlean politics. Now make yourself presentable. You don’t want our new...resident to know how lazy you are, do you?”

“I’m not-” he began protesting, but then the glassy cold gaze silenced him, “Yes Lord Veritas.”

‘Make a good first impression.”

---

Seiro had come down, half an hour later, ready to prove himself to whatever interloper this was. 

All dressed up, and hoping that no one would take notice of how ill fitting his clothes were, Seiro made his way into the dining room, barely getting a look at the small hairy figure before he heard a  metallic clang and he was suddenly pulled back, shouting in pain and surprise. 

The little interloper turned around and began laughing, uproariously, as Seiro realized in mortification, that his horn had become caught into one of the light fixtures on the wall. He began pulling at it in vain, though from behind he was unable to figure out how to unstick it. 

Lord Veritas had gotten up, sighing, almost too dramatically, and walked toward Seiro, almost effortlessly freeing his horn. “I told you to make a good first impression.” he hissed.

“I didn’t mean to I-” he felt his face flush as the little one kept on laughing at him, “What are you laughing  at?” he demanded. 

He had assumed when Lord Veritas first entered his bedroom, and announced this new housemate, that it’d be another Au’ra. He had hoped it’d be another Au’ra, he never expressed it, but it made him sad sometimes the only time he ever saw his own kind was when he looked in the mirror.  But this little creature, covered in fur, was obviously the farthest thing from an Au’ra. He had never seen one in person, but he knew from his lessons on the many provinces and peoples of Garlemald, it was a Hrothgar. In fact he should have expected it, the Hrothgar were the natives of Bozja. 

“Seiro, don't be a bully. Trajan has had a long journey, and is still adjusting to a new place.”

“I don’t care. I will not be laughed at. Especially not by a little kid.”

“Then maybe don’t be so stupid looking.” 

The smug little face on the furry little creature made Seiro’s blood boil, but he was stopped by a placating hand

“ Don’t be so clumsy, and watch where you’re swinging those horns of yours,” Lord Veritas said, barely even blinking at the fuming preteen. He turned back to Trajan, “I'm sorry, boy. Seiro is used to being an only child. Even before he came into my care, he was a very pampered and spoiled only child. I’m sure he is willing to learn to cooperate though. Aren’t you Seiro?” Seiro found himself cringing as Lord Veritas patted his back. 

“...yes Lord Veritas,” Seiro felt very overwhelmed by this, and he still felt groggy enough from his sleep that his patience was thin.

Seuro sat down, in his usual spot next to Lord Veritas, and across from Trajan.  He avoided eye contact with the Hrothgar, but he could hear the sounds of Trajan eating loud and obnoxious. It surprised him that Lord Veritas wasn’t scolding him, he knew if he ever ate like that he’d be in deep trouble. 

Ifa anything Lord Veritas seemed to encourage it, “I’m glad to see you have such a hearty appetite.” He looked over at Seiro, “I remember with you, how long it took for you to accept a meal from me. Or to do much of anything really. I genuinely thought you were trying to hunger strike me. But you gave in eventually.”

Those eyes were bearing into him again, and Seiro shifted awkwardly,“...I think I thought if I didn’t listen to you, you’d send me back..” His memory was faded, but he still vaguely could recall the way he smashed plates of food given to him, and screamed and cried, and refused anything given to him. His seven year old mind had hoped and prayed that maybe if he was terrible enough, he’d be sent back to his mother as a lost cause. 

“Why would you want that?” Trajan snorted. 

Seiro looked down at his plate, feeling the judgmental stare of the younger boy, and simply shrugged. It wasn’t something that he could actually put into words. Both because it’d upset Lord Veritas, and honestly...he wasn’t sure. 

Lord Veritas seemed to have an answer though, “Pride clouds judgement. I’d say that it came from youth, but knowing the samurai...perhaps Seiro simply didn’t know better. A habit I am very glad I broke you of before it was too late.” 

Lord Veritas’ dark eyes always looked so glassy, and the way Seiro’s own gold eyes seemed to reflect back when he looked back in their inky abyss, always made it feel like he was being looked through. His food felt like it went down him painfully, and any hint of appetite felt like it was gone. “ I want to go.”

“Whatever for?”

“He looks sad.'' Trajan’s helpful reply, there seemed to be a curl to his overly toothy expression, that made Seiro’s face flush with shame.

“I'm not hungry I guess and umm..” he racked his brain for an excuse, “ the history tutor is coming tomorrow, and I want to study.” 

“Indeed he is. I am interested to hear your progress in your studies.”

Seiro found himself stumbling nearly tripping and invoking more amusement in his misery, as he bolted from his seat and out of the dining room, barely hearing Lord Veritas’ admonishments not to run indoors before he ran up the grand staircase and into the safety of his room, away from prying eyes. 

His room had always felt like both a sanctuary and a prison to him. Before Seiro had been brought to the manor it had been a guest room for dignitaries and even five years later it retained that feeling of being comfortable but devoid of personality. Truly the only sign of a child living in this room, was the pile of school books Seiro was digging through before finally sitting in his plush reading chair.

He was embarrassed to realize any attempt to refresh his knowledge on the properties of ceruleum engines led to his vision blurring with tears. Especially when he heard his door open with no knock before which could only be one person.

“Seiro, what was that display at the table? And why are you crying?”

“ I don’t know”, he choked out, “ I just don’t know. “

Seiro looked up and was surprised to see the look on Lord Veritas’ face was rather sympathetic as he knelt down and hugged the boy, making him drop his book in shock.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be so hard on you Sosius, I just-“ he realized the name he just said and suddenly disengaged from Seiro, revealing a face of realization and genuine anguish.

“ Lord Veritas…” Seiro said softly, “I’m sorry..,”

He shook his head, as he stood up straight, “Don’t be my boy. You did nothing wrong.”

“But my father did.”

The words felt heavy in the room as if they were echoing in a cave. But Lord Veritas responded very gently, “you are not your father. And besides...I will hate your sire until the day I die, for what he took from me. But at the same time, how can I really fault him? My only son was a fool of a man, who thought he was invincible. Who poked a trained samurai, one of the greatest warriors in Doma, until he broke. And Sosius was not strong. He was rather sickly in fact at least in his childhood. He could barely exert himself without nearly suffocating himself to death. It wasn’t until we conquered more territories, learned more about the magical cures of these places that he became more healthy. But certainly not healthy enough to be in the Imperial Legions. And he always resented that, and for some reason he kept on being rewarded for how bloodthirsty he was toward the aans. He desperately wanted nothing but to prove himself.  And someone finally had enough of it and ran him through.”

Seiro had never heard Lord Veritas speak much about his son, let alone so candidly, and he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be offensive and get him in more trouble.

“I’ll be honest by the time he died, I hadn’t talked to that boy in years. I never saw eye to eye with him. I dare say I couldn’t stand him, and he felt the same toward me. But he was still my son. My heir. And how he turned out, I only had myself to blame.” He gave a wistful sigh, “His mother had died when he was so young, and I poured myself into my work, barely able to even look at the boy. And then when I finally did I hated what I saw, but there was little I could do to ever influence him,”

At this point, it was as if Lord Veritas wasn’t even looking at him, and suddenly his eyes focused back on Seiro, “I will say you are a much more agreeable child then Sosius ever was, with much more promise.  If you were a Garlean by blood, you’d go very far. And that's part of why I took in another boy.”

Yet again Lord Veritas’s eyes seemed to wander around the room, past the still sniveling and confused boy, “I’ve been alive a long time. I remember before the empire was ever an empire. Back when my family’s title of “Lord” still meant something. But at the same time it also meant nothing, because Garlemald meant nothing. And yet as we expand, I find myself wondering why we don’t allow the Domans, or the Bozjans, or the Ala Mhigans, and all the others, have the same opportunities we do. Everyone is so quick to forget how we were once on the bottom. No matter how I train you, and no matter how much skill you have, you will never have the opportunities my foolish son had. And that’s quite a shame.``

“... Is that why you took me in as a ward? You saw potential in me?”

Lord Veritas shrugged, “I’ll be honest, my boy. I was angry. That the samurai killed himself and escaped the consequences of his actions of killing my son. Or at least escaped them coming from my own hand. I wanted justice. And you were that justice. He took my son away, so his son is now mine. That was my thought, when I met you. An eye for an eye.”

Seiro shifted uncomfortably. It did seem like a fair exchange, in theory but… it still made him uncomfortable to realize he was essentially collateral. 

“...but then I saw you as another opportunity, to not repeat my mistakes that I made with Sosius. And then I became fond of you.  And I find myself wishing you could have been my trueborn son. And I feel the same toward Trajan, from my time meeting him.”

“Thank you Lord Veritas. It means a lot to hear that.”  Seiro said in shock. 

Lord Veritas sighed, “And I probably should have told you before picking the boy up. I’ll be honest another reason I did so was I always worried you were lonely. It was always so hard to find anyone in the Senate or the Ministry, who didn’t just view you as some pet pro of mine, let alone anyone who’d allow any sort of play date with their child. And now you’re too old for such things. But what kind of life could you be having, just reading,studying, and training all day. You and Trajan can give each other companionship, and can understand each other. Both as children, and as aan.”

“I’m already happy, Lord Veritas.” Seiro said, “I’m fine being by myself.”

“And that's why I didn’t tell you. I knew that’s what you’d say. But give the boy a chance will you? Maybe apologize to him for your behavior.”

Seiro wanted to protest, for he had done nothing wrong. That little furball had been the one who had humiliated him in the first place. But he knew better than to argue. ‘I’ll do it-”

“Do it now.”  The words were firm. And final.

------

The little Hrothgar’s room was similarly sparsely decorated as Seiro's, perhaps even less so. It still had that smell of dust to it that Seiro still distinctly remembered his own room having when he first entered it five years before. 

Trajan was busy drawing, the childish scrawls that were incomprehensible reminded him a lot of the drawings Seiro did when he was younger. It was a good way to pass the time in this house.

“What is that?” Seiro asked, trying to break the ice.

Trajan looked up, frowning at him, before covering the paper up. “Go away.”

“ Is it from Bozja?” As a child, especially when he first arrived, Seiro had found himself drawing things from Doma, such as the tigers that his father had brought home before as trophies, or the sheep that sometimes strayed too close to their settlement before their shepherds hurried them off.  

The boy glared at him, making a face similar to the fury that had been frozen on those tigers Seiro’s father had brought home long ago, “ I’m just drawing, it’s none of your business.”

“What’s Bozja like?” Seiro asked, trying a different approach, “ I know it's one of the oldest territories, so you’ve always been Garlean right? Where are your parents?”

The boy’s face contorted, focusing more on his drawing than on Seiro, “What sort of question is that? Dead of course. I think. I never really knew them. And that's pretty normal in Bozja. I had an uncle, but he just left me at the orphanage a few months ago. I was lucky they had a bed. I don’t know where he went.” 

Seiro was shocked by how nonchalant Trajan was, as if he were simply discussing the weather. “I’m so sorry I… I lost my father… and I don’t know what happened to my mother.”

It was easier for Seiro to process the loss of his father. He knew it happened, he knew the man was dead. But the last time he’d ever seen his mother, she was screaming and pleading, after the Garleans had torn him from her arms. And for her husband’s crimes, she too had lost everything, all of her beautiful hair pins and kimonos, all of the status that came from marrying into the Byakuyas, their ancestral home itself, and of course her only son. And the older Seiro got the more grim he realized her probable fate was. In many ways, it was easier just to not think about her. 

“Lord Veritas told me everything about you. You’re not like me, so shut up.”

Seiro’s brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, “I came here to apologize for earlier. Lord Veritas wants us to be friends.”

“But you don’t want to be my friend. And I sure don’t want to be yours. So leave me alone.”

Seiro didn’t expect this kind of rejection to hurt so much, but he took a step back, mouth agape.

Trajan continued, “ You just think you’re better than me because you’re bigger than me and have been here longer. You’re no better than all the big boys at the orphanage. You just want me gone, but I’m here, and I’m going to make you gone. Already he likes me better than you.”

Seiro fumed, at this childish logic, “Fine. If you hate me, then I hate you too. I hope he realizes his mistake and sends you back to your shite orphanage!”

The door slammed with an extreme force that echoed through the hall, as Seiro left the room, returning back to his own room, to have a good cry. 

[notsosecretspy]

The Kids Aren’t Alright

****************

Howdy guys, gals, and non-binary pals! This is yet again another fanfic that I started writing... back in 2015. So be prepared for some throwback 2015 fan fiction style with some 2020-editing flare thrown into it! It’s actually going to be uploaded into multiple parts because I had written so much of it and had intended to write it as a full story. Which I can still if for some people like this Either way, if you enjoy the nostalgia, like it currently, or find it humorously bad, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings:, cringe writing, talk of past child abuse, talk of child neglect, cursing, name calling, bullying, slight misogyny (seriously what was going on with past me?)

Word Count: 1,319

*****************

Preview

“Hello Josephine, Sherlock Holmes consulting detective. Mrs. Shannon thank you very kindly for the introduction. You run a very pleasant place around here.” Hmmm, this all seems to be a front. This is quite interesting… I’d love to see where this goes.

The Beginning

I didn’t think I would ever get a home after my legal parents got arrested. I had scars on my body and I didn’t trust people. I mean, what else are you supposed to feel when other children who are just frustrated with their own situations take out there emotions on you constantly? For years I was told I would never get a family that liked me and even though I knew that they weren’t really talking to me, the years of having people tell you the same things dampers your spirit. At this point, ever having a family that I didn’t make myself that would ever love me seems legitimately impossible.

Breaking from my thoughts I begin to peer across the many islands of fold-up tables and chairs before settling into an empty one by the kitchen. I heard a plate get put onto the counter next to me and started pulling it in my direction. I suddenly felt a pull on the plate and saw Dumber and Dumbest (some of my old bullies) sneering as they pulled the plate of eggs there was between us.

“What do you think you are doing egghead?”

I turned with one of my eyebrows raised. “You know you just referred to me as an intellectual, right?”

Dumber named Kevin smacked Dumbest (Charlie) in the gut. Charlie just shrugged.

“Whatever nerd. What do you think you are doing with those,” Kevin asks, glancing down at the innocent breakfast laying helplessly on my plate.

“About to eat. Is there anything that I can do for you?” I try calmly while avoiding his eyes, hoping to not create issues so early in the morning.

That is when I got a harsh slap across the face. I felt cheekbone sting a bit and felt that it was bleeding, but it’s not anything compared to what I was used to. But still damn, was he wearing a ring today or something?

“I want you to look at me when I’m talking to you whore.”

“I don’t want any trouble right now so please just take the plate. I won’t fight you for it.” I let go of the plate and waited for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbarse to grab it and leave before grabbing the next plate. Eventually, I made my way out of the cafeteria and up to my room again. The window was opened and honestly, it’s a tad windy, but other than that it was perfect day outside. Time to seize the time I have before tutoring. The opportunity I’m taking, being my violin practice.

I started playing Ashokan Farewell. It’s something that I’ve been trying to learn and honestly, it’s really sad but I think I’ve almost mastered it. And mastered not crying during it. I was about three minutes into it when I heard my name get called over the intercom whomst’ever, I’m electing to ignore it.

“Hey dumbass, didn’t you hear your name being called,” said Sophie, definitely interrupting me from violin practice and just perching herself in the door frame.

“Of course I did bitch but sometimes you just gotta ignore the things that you don’t care about.” I replied with a small smirk on my face. This is just how me and Sophie are really. We know we don’t mean it to each other. I wouldn’t necessarily call each other friends but if you could call someone you live with a colleague, that’d be her. And we’d constantly talk about how much we hate ‘work.’

“Well you better get going then. But who did that to ya,” she asked with the mocha skin on her forehead scrunching to raise her eyebrow and a giving a slight pat to the door frame.

“Take a guess.”

“Eh, they can go bugger off honestly. But, I’d get downstairs. Who knows, maybe someone wants to meet you, yeah?”

That’s something that gives me slight pause. And by the time I go to respond, Sophie had already turned away from the door. I had seen many people come through here and leave. I’m one of the children that have been here the longest. My home since I was 6 is the East London Daycare and Orphanage. I am turning 15 making it almost my ninth year living in this place.

Really, besides some of the people here, this place isn’t as bad as I know it really could be. Yeah, the food is slightly less than decent and it gets fairly cold in the winter and fairly hot in the summer, but at least I am not on the streets I guess. I have been going to the orphanage’s school for a while but I am 3 grades above where everyone else my age is. No one is allowed here after 18 so luckily the government has assigned me a special tutor to come and teach me my last year of high school.

Besides Sophie, I’ve been disliked among some of the other kids. Some of this I guess is my own fault. When I talked to my tutor about it, she mentioned how maybe kids are intimidated of me because I seem to know so much more than everyone else and don’t make myself seem very open. But I don’t really know what to do with that information for now. For a while I thought that it was just because of my massive intellect and my distrustfulness. Because, to me, everyone is out to hurt me unless proven otherwise. If I was the world, I would be doing exactIy the opposite of the 11th Human Right. I guess it’s a side effect of being abused. I always wear my long teal hair in a french braid down the back of my head and wore a pair of black glasses that framed my weird blue-green eyes. I used to think that they were really pretty. But after a particular incident when I was in actual grade school where a boy called me alien-eyes and everyone else thought it was the funniest goddam thing in the entire world, I’ve decided that at least for now they’re just weird.

After taking a moment once my task of putting my violin away was finished, I decided that I put off the intercom enough and I start to open my drawer and put on my pair of ripped skinny jeans, a tank top, plaid shirt, and my leather jacket before heading down the small metal and linoleum staircase. Finally, I made my way to the office to see our principle with a man that was tall, black hair, pale skin, eyes similar to my own but more yellowish and more piercing. His hair seemed fluffy and when he saw me and reached out to shake my hand, he had calluses that I’ve noticed before. Thankfully, I’m also short enough in comparison to him where I can see a slight mark under his chin.

My guess is that he lives with another person. Maybe a man by the way his hair was. Logically, a women would have fussed about making an impression for something like this. (Or quite possibly they wouldn’t know???) But, either way, I can tell that he plays violin. But I could tell something else too, he was reading me like I was reading him. I don’t usually like reading people so much but it helps when you have PTSD and are schizophrenic, though I’ve kind of grown out of it since I’ve grown up. I used to have hallucinations and crazy explosiveness but it’s certainly gotten better.

“Josie,’ said Mrs. Shannon politely, ‘this is Sherlock Holmes. He is looking to adopt you.”

“Hello Josephine, Sherlock Holmes consulting detective. Mrs. Shannon thank you very kindly for the introduction. You run a very pleasant place around here.” Hmmm, this seems to be a front. This is quite interesting… I’d love to see where this goes.