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cooltrainererika · 5 years ago

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Alt-talia x Evillious Chronicles: The Key to Zorn (Part 1 v. 1)

Couldn’t come up with a better title.

This is for Alternate Universe/AU, or Angst, it can qualify for both.

Okay… so… holy hell.

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. And it isn’t even finished.

I thought “Superbia” was long. But… I outdid myself. Over FORTY FREAKIN’ PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS. And again, this is not finished, I’m splitting it so I at least have the hope of releasing something! With two routes! This is a novel, folks!

I’m probably going to repost this for the Christmas event since I want as much people to see them as possible. Because there are some Christmas elements here. So yeah, you can take this as an early Christmas fic too.

This will be a movie, folks. Grab a seat and some popcorn.

Also, look, it’s goddamn Ludwig torment again! For the fourth time in the span of a month! And this might just be the most elaborate way I’ve tormented the poor guy yet. But I didn’t really have many options.

So I wanted to enter Mirror Week, but in the main canons write in, Alt-talia and Hetalia Emblem, I haven’t come up with any use for 2Ps, and in the former case I can’t see how I could use them.

However, there was one Alt-talia spin-off AU I had been thinking they would exist on; I didn’t know whether I wanted to release media to it so early, and due to a reason I will explain in a moment, I was reluctant to release media about it in general. But… I went with it.

This is my Evillious Chronicles AU. Yes, an AU of an AU. What about that.

Basically, the Evillious Chronicles is what started as a series of Vocaloid songs telling a much larger story; it has since ballooned into a vast, tangled network of light novels and other such media. It’s as confusing as it sounds. Some of you may have heard of the songs “Daughter of Evil” and “Servant of Evil”; those were the first songs to be released in that series. Those two songs weren’t self-contained, oh no.

The thing is, for this AU I wanted to write just based on the seven sin songs (and Servant of Evil), with accompanying Hetaloid covers, and leave the rest of the story up to the audience. I’m still planning on that. However, I still wanted to enter the event, so here I am presenting a version of events for one of the arcs; however, it is merely the route that hews closest to Evillious canon from what I can gather of it. So yeah, NONE OF THIS IS HARD CANON. Especially since I wasn’t sure on the roles of some characters here.

Also, if I somehow ever get to publishing my main Evillious x Hetalia fics sometime in the future; first of all, hi. But more importantly, please, I implore you, do not read this before reading The Muzzle of Ludwig. Especially the second half. I tried to avoid spoilers, but someone becomes extremely obvious with contextual clues.

Also… it’s not like I wanted to write Ludwig torment again. But he was basically my only option, since he was the only one whose sin most likely overlaps with… well, it’ll become clear as this goes on. Ludwig’s story here is based on Nemesis Sudou’s story. Though since Nemesis and Ludwig are vastly different characters, there may be some plot holes, unfortunately.

And THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: for those who have read none of my other works yet, Alt-talia has often vastly, vastly different characterizations. I based most of these characterizations off of their late 19th century to very early 20th century personalities in Alt-talia. Special OOC warning for the following characters: Austria, Hungary, and Prussia. Minor OOC warning for Germany. I used @askimperialludwig ‘s version of the character as a reference, along with my personal perception and research. may add more later.

Also, credit to my friend @tomboyjessie13 , my Evillious consultant, for helping me through this!

I can’t let this be too long, since the fic is long already. Let’s go!

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(Also... people who read my fics, please reblog them. I work hard on them, and want many to see them!)

And since I forgot to add this above the cut; this canon is also one of the few times Nyotalia characters canonically exist as their own entity in my works, if not the only one so far. It’s kind of necessary, since otherwise it’ll turn into a complete sausagefest. However, as I have no set personality for them in main Alt-talia canon, I basically write them the same way as I would their male counterparts, with maybe some minor changes. I do have some ideas for Nyotalia characters in “what if” stories for main Alt-talia canon, but since this would be an Alt-talia spinoff, most of my theoretical audience would be there for the Alt-talia characters who appear in most Alt-talia media. Not to mention male stereotypes for countries are usually more fun anyway. However, in this universe two counterparts of the same character can co-exist. I try to avoid that though.

Also, a character named “Arendt” is briefly mentioned; this is Brandenburg. He isn’t really that important though, and really I’ve barely fleshed him out, so that’s all you need to know.

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The Key To Zorn

In a certain continent, there was a forest.

A serene, peaceful forest, where inside one could almost feel mystical energy in the clear, unpolluted air.

Until, under the evening sky, a gunshot sounded.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, a boy of merely 8 with innocent, cornflower blue eyes, ran through the forest he knew so well, a basket of wild berries and herbs in his arms and a small sack over his back.

Soon, in his view, among the trees and wild cornflowers was the only place he had known all his life, the little wooden cottage he called home.

The boy immediately checked his old, somewhat rusted mailbox, a look of anxiousness on his face - one which immediately turned to disappointment upon finding there was nothing there.

He sighed.

“Nothing today either...”

He reached up somewhat, twisting the doorknob and opening the wooden door.

“I’m home!”

No one answered back.

As per usual.

He didn’t expect one anyway.

Ludwig went to the dining table, setting the basket and sack, as well as his small, old-model pistol, down on his side of the table. Inside the sack was a small rabbit; the poor little thing. He hoped it didn’t struggle for long after he had shot it.

He prepared dinner as he always did, the bubbling as the ingredients stewed the only sounds other than the cries of the wildlife outside.

And he ate in silence by the light of the lamp, staring at the empty, vacant other side of the table, the light of the sun dim and faint.

“Mutter, is it good?”

Nothing.

Ludwig sighed again, going back to shoving the stew into his mouth.

——-

Ludwig tucked himself into bed after a bath and a change of clothes, now in his old, almost too small pajamas, having finished the book in his hands an hour ago - while he had reread it and others several times already, it was a window into a world different from his, where friends supported each other and families told stories in front of the fire - but now that it was over, here he was, once again, stuck in loneliness, on his own, within the cold, dark walls of a small cabin.

Once again, it was quiet. All too quiet; except for the sounds of the forest.

Now as he had nothing to distract him, every rustling of the underbrush, every animal cry made him bristle. The forest was his comfort by day, almost a second mother, but by night, it was dark, feral.

He pulled his blankets up to his face, curling up, shaking like a leaf. He felt any moment, a beast could break through the walls and tear him to shreds.

He missed his mother so much, oh how he missed her. Her harsh but protective voice, her calloused hands squeezing his wrists. He missed his onkel Arendt, who told him stories of the battles he and Mutter had been through.

She’s dead. She’s dead, accept it.

No, no she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. She had to be alive.

She was too strong to die.

She would come back. She always came back.

His mother wouldn’t want to see him like this anyway. He was being pathetic.

“Einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than this.

Imagining his mother was standing by his bed, staring at him with disapproval at his fearful behavior, finally his shivering started to lessen ever so slightly.

He needed to make it so that when she came home with another medal shining on her chest, she could come home to a son she could be proud of, after all.

“Good night.”

He said to no one in particular, as he let the faint moonlight be his comfort, finally closing his eyes.

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

A soothing, calming melody played in his mind; Ludwig didn’t know where he knew it from, but as it surrounded him in soft, almost familiar gentleness, the shivering stopped, his muscles loosened, and he was finally lured into the welcome embrace of sleep.

Lu li la la lu li la la la…

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

———-

“FIRE!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Birds flew away in massive numbers, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Ludwig blew the steam off his pistol, seeing that the bullets had all landed near-target. Almost there.

Not bothered by the recoil anymore, he lined up the shot again, swearing he would get it right this time.

Every two days he did this, before 10 sets of running, marching, and every parallel bar routine; this wasn’t how most children his age passed their time, willingly anyway, if the books he read were any indication, and surely he felt sorry for the animals who had to hear such things, as they were the closest things to friends he had. But it broke the silence.

And most of all, he could almost sense his mother beside him during these practice drills; he could feel her hands on his arms guiding him in his aim, and hear her voice shouting in tandem with him as he shouted “FIRE!”. In fact, sometimes he swore she actually was there, by his side.

He took a deep breath and aimed again.

“FIRE!”

-----------------------

When he came home, he once again saw a basket of supplies.

They always puzzled him. They came at such random, unpredictable intervals, filled with food, a few bottles of milk, several cartridges of bullets, and even occasionally a book, toy, bar of soap, or other extra, but by the time he found them no one was ever there.

He should be grateful. Though he wished someone would explain to him.

Oh well.

-----------------------------

Days passed, then months.

Once again, on the night of his 9th birthday, Ludwig laid alone, the weak moonlight unable to brighten his gradually deepening pit of despair.

The silence was maddening. He craved for any touch, for any warmth of another person, for anything. But even that simple wish was too much to ask.

He bunched up the worn blanket, the cold, frigid winter air seeping into the cabin.

Every day, he wondered if he was slowly going mad.

Holding a cornflower and his mother’s black cross necklace to his chest, looked out into the moon, to the night sky peeking from a clearing in the trees.

A star shot through the night sky, and Ludwig was quick to make his wish.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

She had always told him that believing in such things was foolish.

But what was the pain in hanging onto the little light he could find?

-------------------

Now’s your time.

Alright. I’m going in. See you.

------------------

One cold, chilling day, towards the final days of the year he turned 9, Ludwig stepped outside to check his mailbox again.

Snow lightly dusted the ground, softly landing on his old, worn coat.

He had checked his homemade calendar; Sancbruma. Such a lovely holiday. But now, just yet another cold, freezing, lonely day. Oh well. He had known Pater Natalis wasn’t real for years to need confirmation.

But this day, after creaking the old thing open, he found something.

His heart almost stopped.

Immediately, he ripped the envelope often, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and he immediately glued his focus to the words, written specially to be understandable to a child.

Ludwig Beilshmidt, we are sorry to inform you that…

Time seemed to stop. He swore his heart stopped.

Dread shot through his body like lightning.

He read on, clinging onto the little hope that still remained with him all those years as they escaped from him, flying away as he fell deeper.

…

Tears fell from his face.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

Finally, suppressed despair replaced dread, filling every corner of his mind and body, every nerve, every muscle.

But mixed with it, and eventually almost overpowering it in the concoction of emotion, was wrath.

Pure, unbridled wrath.

He tore the paper and screamed, his screams piercing the serene forest air.

Tears fell from his eyes like a burst dam as he cried into his hands, cursing whoever had killed her, her fate, the cruelty of the gods.

If only he could get his hands on whatever bastard killed her, he would strangle them, he would gouge out their eyes, he would shoot them in the leg and watch them bleed to death, how dare they take his mother away!

He had always been told the best came to those who were patient.

He was proven wrong that day.

All those years, waiting, hoping, hoping for nothing.

Nothing.

His mother was never going to come back. Ever.

Grief, anger, and sadness gripped his small frame as he shook, on the ground, his young brain besieged with intense emotions and reality, dreaded, painful reality.

Don’t cry. How pathetic. Is that how I raised you?

Ludwig forced himself to take deep breaths, desperately fighting his tears and holding back the flow of the concoction of emotions any further.

No, his mother wouldn’t want to see him like this. He couldn’t let her be honored like this.

“Einz, zwei, drei, einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a breath with every word, forcing his emotions back and attempting to lock them away, until finally once again he could think somewhat coherently.

It was here he noticed something wet poking his hand.

There was something in front of him.

A dog.

A medium-large dog with pointy, perky ears and snout; a magnificent, beautiful coal-black Fernirhund, its bright, intelligent eyes a rare violet.

He didn’t notice it before in his panic, but now the dominant emotion in his mind was confusion.

As he sniffled, the dog nudged him again with its nose, looking up at him with its soulful eyes.

“...A dog?”

The dog stared at him back.

Ludwig’s mind immediately jumped back to the beginning of the year.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

“Are… are you from my Mutter?”

Silence.

Immediately, he embraced the dog, making it yelp, crying into its fur.

“It’s adorable! I love it Mutter! Thank you!”

It let him cry into its fur, as the boy’s short arms wrapped around it in the first living thing it had embraced, nay, touched, in years.

He was actually holding something living. Oh, it had been so long. Oh so long.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold life in his arms, to feel its warmth, to feel its gentle rising and falling, to hear the subtle sounds of another’s breath in his ears.

For the first time in years, despite the unforgiving cold of the winter morning air, warmth reached Ludwig’s heart, happiness brewing with and overpowering now subdued despair and rage.

<Sure… Whatever makes you happy, kid.>

------------------------------------------

“Oy vey… I was too late again.

...This world is fucked.”

-------------------------------------

Ludwig put a saucer of stew in front of the dog, which surely enough it soon started lapping up.

“It’s good right? What should I call you… I’ll have to give you a name.”

He stared at the dog, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The dog looked at him.

“You like it? Then Schwarzchen it is!”

<...I didn’t say anything. ’Blackie’? You cannot be serious.>

--------------------

That night was different from usual.

Ludwig nestled his head in Schwarzchen’s fur, holding onto him like a stuffed animal, running his fingers through his soft coat. It had seemed reluctant at first, clearly not used to such close contact but as Ludwig begged it to stay, as if it understood him, it decided to stay with him.

The dog’s breathing neutralized the deafening silence he had gotten so used to, its warmth protecting his small body from the frosty air.

It was like heaven.

Oh, he almost forgot something.

He took his mother’s necklace from his bedside table, putting it around the dog’s neck like a collar.

“There. Perfect. It suits you.”

He barked.

“Good night, Schwarzchen.”

That night, sleep came to Ludwig easier than usual, as he was surrounded by his new companion’s soft breathing and warm fur.

----------

“Hallo. Kid. Wake up.”

Ludwig awoke, his eyes fluttering open.

Once his eyes focused, he almost yelped in shock.

He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, some formless void; Schwarzchen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the walls of his cabin or even his forest, all that remained was his bed.

In front of him was a man clad in what seemed to be a long white lab coat and some type of mantle, or at least Ludwig assumed, his clothing style almost resembling that in illustrations in one of his novels, ostensibly chronicling ancient legends; but not just any man.

A man who looked almost exactly like how one would imagine Ludwig would look like when he was older, save for his unnatural purple, almost magenta eyes that shined with a calculating glint, a scar under his left.

“H… hallo?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I… Who are you?”

The man smiled at him softly; despite his harsh features, it calmed some of Ludwig’s nerves, just a little.

“That isn’t important. But you’re lonely, right? And it’s causing you pain, yes?”

His voice was deep; much lower than Arendt’s, the only other reference he had for an adult man, surprising Ludwig a bit.

The boy nodded.

The man dug into one of his pockets, taking out a key.

“Here. I’ll be your friend; all you have to do is take the other end of this key, and you won’t feel any of that loneliness and pain any more…”

Tentatively, Ludwig took it.

The boy gasped as he suddenly felt something overwhelming and indescribable other than energy blitz between him and the strange man through the key; it was painless, in fact almost manic energy, bright lights flashing in his vision.

Ludwig woke up.

The boy laid there, his eyes wide, his mind mulling over what he had just seen.

“A dream… it was a dream… Who was that man?”

He turned, and there Schwarzchen was.

“Never mind… Good morning, Schwarzchen.”

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He held his head; it seemed to be coming from within his head, like a thought, instead of from his ears.

“...Schwarzchen? Is that you?”

<Yes, this is the dog. And I have a name.>

Ludwig took a few seconds to process the information.

“...What? ...Mein Gott, I’ve really gone crazy…”

<No. This is real. I’m speaking to you through something called telepathy. Speaking to you through your mind. I could explain all the intricate details but it would probably short-circuit your child brain.>

“I know what it is. But it’s just like in the stories! Wow! I didn’t know they really happened!”

Ludwig sat up on the side of his bed.

“You keep insulting my naming sense. So what is your name?”

“Schwarzchen” looked him directly in the eyes.

<Well, well, it’s the same as yours, funnily enough. Ludwig.>

“We have the same name? What a coincidence.”

“Alright… Lutz it is. ...I liked ‘Schwarzchen’ though.”

<...Whatever, kid.>

---------------------------

Like that, Ludwig and Lutz became friends.

His 10th birthday had been the best birthday he had in years, even if it was just the two of them.

Over time, Lutz taught the boy how to use telepathy; and without him saying a word, he became a third hand to him.

...Sometimes. Other times, the dog merely yawned, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all dogs were like this. But even then, he didn’t mind. Even if Lutz was a cold, snarky jerk sometimes, it didn’t matter.

Every day, they ate together, went hunting together, bathed together, and at the end of the day slept together.

He could almost forget his loneliness, and the fact that his mother would never return.

Almost.

——————

As Ludwig braced himself on his bed, he once again counted his breaths.

The wrath he felt that day; it was coming back. From within, it seemed to spread to his entire body, to the point it was unbearable.

He would never forget that pain. He couldn’t. But mindless rage was for the foolish.

He wouldn’t forget. But he would remember, silently.

When he looked to Lutz, Lutz didn’t seem afraid at all. He merely stared at him with those violet eyes.

Ludwig embraced Lutz, not letting go.

-----------------

Lutz stared at the young boy as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

It was easy.

A bit too easy.

What did he expect from a child though.

<Still, would have liked a bit more of a challenge.

Oh well. Sleep tight, kid.

...Though why do you have to use me as a pillow?>

--------------------

Over the next year, Ludwig grew. Now on the cusp of puberty, he became stronger, he could run faster and further, and he could shoot with more and more accuracy.

On the morning of his 11th birthday, Lutz presented him with a query.

<Kid.>

“Huh? What is it, Lutz?”

Ludwig froze.

<Don’t cry on me.>

“I wasn’t going to”

<Yes, yes. In anyway, since you know you mother isn’t coming home, what’s the point staying in this place anymore?>

The boy pondered it.

<I’m a dog and even I think it’s pointless waiting for someone if they’re clearly dead. Well maybe I’m not the one to talk here.>

He was right.

“But… This is all I have ever known.”

<Don’t worry about it. You’re smart. I think. You should find out what to do soon enough.>

“...Jawohl. I don’t know what my purpose is being here forever too… It’s not like this place will disappear either. And it’s not what Mutter would want me to do. ...We’re leaving tonight.”

————-

Ludwig opened his drawer.

There it was; the notice he had torn up all those years ago.

Why did he still have it?

Just so he would never forget, probably.

Ludwig sealed the notice into a pouch before the rage became too much to bear, stuffing it into his bag, going to fetch his clothing. He had a sailor suit saved up for “special occasions”; he hoped he hadn’t outgrown it already.

--------------

Ludwig looked behind his back one last time to the small cabin, the cornflowers, the trees he had known for his entire 11 years of living.

It felt so odd to know he would be away from it.

He quickly ran back, Lutz grumbling behind him, and picked a few flowers, pressing them between the pages of a book.

“Jawohl. Coming, coming!”

-----------

When Ludwig entered the capital, the little truly important belongings he had on his and Lutz’s backs, he was in awe.

It bustled with energy, with people, rickety, clanking automobiles and trolleys spewing steam or smoke that made him cough if he went to close, radio commercials resounding through the air, as well as delicious smells the likes of which he hadn’t known in years, some never before, but mixed in with the inexplicable smell of whatever was coming out of the automobiles.

Ludwig wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or disliked it, but most accurately he would describe it as a strange mix of the two; but more than anything, everything was so new.

He marveled at the sight of a trolley passing by, when he heard honking behind him.

“Get out of the way brat!”

Ludwig stepped back, hopping back to the sidewalk, and an automobile clunked on, its driver looking at him irritated.

But its movements fascinated him, how the machine seemed to move magically, how it seemed to have a life of its own.

“...Where should I even start?”

<Well? Do you have any relatives?>

“Not that I know of.”

Lutz pointed in the direction of some other children, in a way much like how a pointer or setter dog would.

“...Oh.”

Ludwig sighed. He may as well.

————-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

“No money? We aren’t a charity, sorry.”

“Outta the way!”

————-

Ludwig slept in an alley that night, huddled in his old blanket, snuggling against Lutz, who had gotten used to the close contact years ago.

He was so tired. He just remembered he hadn’t slept for an entire day, and it was finally catching up to him.

He had gotten some attention due to being cleaner-looking than the rest, though Lutz was far more charming in their eyes. But more often than not, the overwhelming message in the air was clear; he wasn’t welcome here.

“Lutz?”

Lutz looked up.

“Why didn’t you tell me I needed money for everything?”

<Didn’t you read about it?>

“I didn’t know it was this necessary.”

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

“There’s so many people here. But I still feel so alone.”

“Jawohl… Good night.”

————

Seeing no reason not to, Ludwig had decided to explore the city a bit more the next morning, after having helped himself and Lutz to a piece of bread and some beef jerky he had bought, plus the miscellaneous items he had been given the day before.

After a long while of walking, taking in the different sights, from the historical landmarks and building to new projects, some even in the midst of being built, neatly separated or together, working in at times harmonious and at times chaotic tandem. Every so often he saw stray animals run about. After some time he started to see schoolchildren, some about his age, run to school with their friends, adults dressed in suits on their way to work.

Until, Ludwig started to feel the air change.

It felt somewhat... sticky? The breeze seemed stronger. And inexplicably salty.

For he had reached the city harbor. Birds, they were called seagulls he believed, cawed above. Fishermen had far since left the dock, and in the distance, trade ships were being loaded to go who knows where. And they were floating on a vast, open field of water, water, nothing but water.

“Lutz... is this...”

He had heard his mother’s stories about the ocean; while she had never been a woman of the seas per se, she was in the army, not the navy after all, he had heard her describe growing up near it. It was odd thinking that she, too, had been a child once like him.

This ocean was to her like the forest was to him, quite possibly.

She had also spoken about a rumor; a rumor that a wish put into a bottle and cast into the sea would, eventually, be granted. She had dismissed it as childish of course. And she did say that she much preferred the land after growing up.

Though according to Onkel Arendt, she would at times, despite this, just go to her childhood home, staring out into the eternal ocean.

He wondered what she had thought as her red eyes stared out into the distant horizon, the salty breeze flowing through her silver-white hair.

It was strange, imagining his mother like that. The sea was so free, almost careless; the complete opposite of her. But maybe that was exactly what drew her to it.

Ludwig started running along the dock, letting Lutz chase him, the briny wind rushing past him and through his hair. People had started to come to swim, and the city was starting to fully come to life.

Even if life was hard, at least he had some way of entertaining himself when everything was so brand new.

--------------

One day, a duo of teenagers spotted Ludwig.

And being the thugs they were, Ludwig suddenly found himself in confrontation with two kids much larger, older, and stronger than he; even if Ludwig was tougher than most 11-year-olds, these two seemed to be about 14 at least, if not, and probably, 15.

“Hey street rat, where’s your mutti?!”

Ludwig tried not to pay them any heed, even if he bristled at the rude words.

“...What business do you have with me?”

The shorter one grabbed him by the collar.

“I asked you a question, shorty!”

After the initial shock and fear, Ludwig felt a flash of anger. His fists clenched as he tried to struggle his way out. And worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything.

<Kid. Listen.>

“What?!”

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

Ludwig stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just witnessed, as the teenagers ran away, screaming “DEMON DOG! DEMON DOG!”.

And there Lutz was, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened.

“How… how…”

<I’m a Very Amazing Dog, you could say.>

————

A week passed; Ludwig counted, as he always valued timekeeping, no matter what. The other street children left him alone, eyeing him strangely. Occasionally, he heard extortionists threatening some unfortunate soul.

That was when, however, Lutz told him something vital.

<Hey. Have you ever considered asking the police if you have any relatives?>

Ludwig looked at the dog, puzzled.

“What?”

Lutz pointed at a building.

<There. It says “POLIZEI”. Can’t you read?>

“...Why? Won’t they throw me in jail or something?”

Lutz looked up to see Ludwig’s dumbfounded face staring back at him.

“...Why didn’t you tell me that, you mutt?!”

<Thought it would be interesting to observe you. Also don’t be too loud. Everyone will think you’re a crazy person.

Ludwig took a look around, and indeed there were some passerbys staring at him.

Ludwig loudly sighed, his palm on his face.

“...Fine. Thanks anyway.”

--------------------------

“Your name?”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

The officers looked at him for a few seconds.

“...As in Julia Beilshmidt? General Julia Beilshmidt?”

“Jawohl.”

They were in shock.

“...Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

“Erm… We apologize. Ja.”

“Do I have any relatives? I need some place to stay.”

“...Ja. We will search immediately. Please wait here. But it may take a while.”

————-

“Hallo? Is this the police? Why must you be calling?”

“Well, you see, sir… It appears that a relative of yours has suddenly shown up out of nowhere. ...He claims to be Beilshmidt’s son.”

“...Mein Gott. Julchen did say she had a son… I knew she wasn’t the type who should be able to take care of a child. I will be there as soon as I can.”

-------------

“I know, Lutz. Shut up.”

Lutz yawned.

“He should be here soon-”

It was then that the door to the police station opened with just enough force to be noticeable without slamming.

Standing there was a dark brown-haired gentleman with a large, curly cowlick, probably in his thirties, most likely affluent from his clothing.

“Excuse me, I hear there was someone waiting for me here?”

Ludwig stood up, and their eyes met.

“Hallo. ...You are Ludwig?”

He adjusted his glasses, then his tie.

“Ja?”

He looked him over.

“Ah, I can see some of the resemblance. Though you’re actually somewhat adorable, unlike her.”

“...Is that an insult against her?”

Realizing his mistake, the man cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry.”

He outstretched his hand.

“I am Herr Roderich Edelmann. Your mother’s cousin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, but it is nice being able to see you with my own two eyes.”

Ludwig took the hand, shaking it.

“Ludwig Beilshmidt. Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Then, suddenly, Roderich’s formal facade dropped and he pulled the boy into a hug.

“You’re so precious! You may call me Onkel Roderich! Don’t worry, we will take great care of you!”

Lutz looked on in amusement as Ludwig’s cries of shock became muffled in the man’s chest.

Ludwig was flabbergasted. It had been so long since he had been hugged. He only could relive them in his memories, and they weren’t frequent, but here he was, feeling it yet again, surrounded by warmth; he didn’t know how to process it.

But if there was one emotion he was certain about as the man smoothed his hair and cooed over him, it was that he felt loved.

————-

Ludwig held on tightly as the automobile rocked around them. Roderich didn’t seem to mind it whatsoever, but Ludwig had only heard of an automobile once, and had seen, much less ridden, none. Roderich was happy to make him comfortable next to him though, warning him whenever a bump or “pothole” was coming up.

“I forgot to ask… what is that dog doing with you? A purebred Fenrir no less?”

Lutz was lazily sprawled out in the back seat behind them, his ears pricking somewhat at the mention of him.

“Oh, that’s Lutz.”

“...Lutz? As in…”

“Jawohl.”

Roderich looked puzzled.

“Erm… Mutter named him.”

Roderich huffed.

“Ah, Julchen, of course…”

“He was my last Sancbruma present from her before she died.”

Roderich quieted for a few seconds.

“Oh… I see. We will accommodate him too. Do not worry. ...Also, no need to ‘jawohl’ around me.”

“Jawo… ja.”

—————

Onkel Roderich was a renowned musician; he was a master of many instruments and even knew how to compose, but his main forte was the piano. He was sought after for his talents across the land.

And he had the house to show it as well.

“Welcome to your new home, Ludwig.”

Ludwig took it all in; the house was already larger than average compared to others in town, and as a boy who had grown up in a small log cabin all his life, it seemed especially enormous.

A woman with long, light brown hair came up to them, looking from Roderich to Ludwig.

“Ah, Erzsébet! This is my nephew, Ludwig. He will be staying with us from now on.”

Roderich bent his knees so he was at Ludwig’s level.

“Ludwig, this is Erzsébet, my wife.”

“H… hallo. Nice to meet you, Tante Erzsébet.”

Ludwig outstretched his hand.

The woman merely eyed him for a few seconds.

“Hallo. I guess.”

She said, gruffly, with a distinctly foreign accent.

Roderich sighed.

“Erzsébet, why do you have to be like this?”

“Why do we have to take in this ratty-looking kid?”

Ludwig scowled.

“Hey!”

Roderich held Ludwig closer, glaring at her.

“Erzsébet! He’s a child! Have you no heart?!”

“Fine, fine.”

She shook his hand, roughly.

“But the dog is cute though. And wow, a Fenrir?! Hallo, come here!”

Lutz merely yawned.

Ludwig couldn’t help but snicker as an unamused frown crept across Erzsébet’s face.

“...Whatever. Make yourself at home I guess.”

She walked off.

“Prepare the bath and extra room for the boy! Come on now!”

Roderich commanded, and soon after servants bowed and quickly ran upstairs in single file.

“Don’t mind my wife. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to hear from you. But she will warm up to you eventually. Though… you are in need of new clothes, aren’t you?”

He gave the boy a once-over, making Ludwig look down to his old, beaten-up and washed out child-sized military uniform.

“Sadly, we do not have any clothes your size as of now. I will have a servant hire the tailor immediately. Meanwhile I will order them to wash what you have now.”

<He’s awfully happy to see you, isn’t he?>

“Ja… he seems like a nice person.”

————

That might, Ludwig had the best dinner he had ever had.

He could only marvel at the dishes in front of him; even those he had heard of before looked so refined. And there was so much of it! The variety of bread available was amazing.

But he couldn’t let himself forget his discipline. Even if it took all his willpower not to start gorging himself on everything like he had been possessed by some demon of gluttony.

“Onkel, what is this?”

“A chocolate torte, you see. A type of cake.”

Ludwig remembered actually having a cake a grand total of once. He still remembered its sweetness so well and it was probably the best thing he ever had eaten. And then there were two other things he had only read about before.

...And Lutz seemed unusually interested in it.

He couldn’t blame him though, it’s aroma was mesmerizing to Ludwig’s senses.

“Chocolate? Is that what the brown is?”

“You have never had chocolate before?! Mein Gott, Julchen, What have you done?”

Ludwig was quick to take a bite, and he froze.

The mellow, deep sweetness melted on his tongue, spreading throughout his mouth in such an indescribably perfect way, a tinge of bitterness within that instead of detracting from the experience, somehow harmonized with the sweetness in such a heavenly way.

“...Ludwig?”

“...It’s amazing.”

Roderich seemed somewhat amused by how floored the boy was.

“Even your mother was quite a fan.”

<Hey, hey. Kid.>

Ludwig was surprised by the unusual agitation in Lutz’s thoughts. He didn’t think he had ever heard anything like it before.

“Lutz? What is-“

Ludwig almost panicked, giving a piece to the impatient dog.

“Ludwig!”

“I… erm… It was unfair to have it to myself!”

“...Wasn’t chocolate poisonous to dogs?”

Erzsébet questioned.

“Wait wha-“

<Don’t worry. ... Ahh, bliss...>

Ludwig smiled nervously.

“He’ll be fine.”

The couple just stared, confused.

“Erm…”

“Trust me! I know him well. ...Can I have more? Please?”

“Absolutely.”

His face absolutely lit up at that, and in the corner of his vision Ludwig saw quite possibly the most genuine expression of joy he had seen from Lutz in all the time he knew him.

“Why’s it that everyone in your family loves chocolate so much?”

Erzsébet asked as her husband took another piece.

“Why don’t you is the better question.”

“...Actually, yup, you two definitely are related. Leave some for me though!”

————

Roderich doted on the boy; he made sure he had the nicest clothes and the nicest food that he could afford.

He had made sure the room was in absolute best condition, that his pillows were always fluffed and bed always made, even if Ludwig insisted he wanted to do it on his own.

He taught him everything about the basics of civilization, how to read more complex sentences, how to play the piano and the violin, even how to dance. He took him with him to work, across the city and sometimes even country to places he had at best read about and to meet so many new people.

His next Sanctbruma and 12th birthday were the most extravagant he had ever had.

Yet…

Yet something was missing.

Despite the man’s kindness, he felt something wasn’t right. Ludwig couldn’t put a finger on what, and he felt awful about it to be sure; he did so much for him, what more could a boy ask for?

But yet…

Sure, Erzsébet never completely warmed up to him; even if she wasn’t as cold to him, according to Lutz she was merely tolerating him. And the same was true for many of the servants.

But that didn’t change the fact that Roderich himself was nothing but loving towards him. Even if he had curfews and other such rules, he never had trouble with rules. His mother raised him to obey rules. And while he was often busy, he still tried his best to spend time with him.

Finally, he actually had someone who resembled a parent after all those years. He should have been thankful.

But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Someone had to be doing something wrong.

At times, he still lay awake at night, those lonely days and nights and that fateful Sanctbruma playing back in his mind; as well as the accompanying emotions of pure hatred and wrath.

Once, Roderich has entered the room at an inopportune time to Ludwig curled up in his bed, seething, growling at him to leave him alone.

While he didn’t say anything about it at dinner, it was obvious he was disturbed by it.

“...Lutz. Why can’t I be happy? I still feel alone, but I don’t even know why.”

“At least I have you.”

<Whatever.>

———

“Ludwig.”

“Ja, Onkel Roderich?”

The man sighed.

“It has been over a year since you started living with us. What is it with your standoffish behavior? Is something wrong? I will listen to it.”

“...I just can’t, Onkel.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why.”

The man looked so disappointed.

“I try my best to make you happy, Ludwig. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to satisfy your needs.”

“Nein. It isn’t that.”

Roderich shook his head.

“As I was saying… the chords for this piece are…”

—————

Ludwig continued to do his practice drills whenever possible, even if they had taken a different shape; makeshift targets became proper shooting galleries, improvised exercises became possible using an open space between buildings and proper equipment. And as he grew more and more by the day, his physical abilities took leaps and bounds above what he had been capable of before. He just wished he could go more than weekly. At first, Roderich objected, but it didn’t take long for him to cave in.

After all, he had to keep himself in shape, especially as he now had access to all the candy and chocolate that could be plausibly afforded.

After a while, Roderich started to continuously try to ask him to consider other options in this weekly time slot. He was never too forceful, however. And after a while, as Ludwig expressed his clear annoyance, it finally ceased just as it had begun.

There was another episode that irked Ludwig.

One night, as he went to get a glass of water, he had seen Roderich, seemingly sneaking away from his room.

“...Onkel?”

The man bristled as soon as he turned on the lights.

“Erm… Ludwig, I didn’t expect you to be awake..

Then, Ludwig saw it.

In his hands was his mother’s necklace.

“...What are you doing with Mutter’s necklace?”

He immediately stuffed it inside his pocket and turned around, a fake smile on his face.

“What necklace, my dear Ludwig?”

“I know you’re hiding it.”

The man sighed, taking it back out again.

“I… I wanted to put it in a place it will be safer in.”

Ludwig tried not to grill him further, even as he felt something fueled by doubt start to boil within him.

“I’m sure it will be safe with me. It’s been so for all the years I’ve had it. Can I have it back now?”

“...Ja.”

Ludwig swiftly took it back, going down to get his glass. He really needed one.

“You could tell a servant to get it for you?”

“No. I prefer to do it on my own.”

When Ludwig had returned to his room, he had quite the things to say to Lutz.

“Lutz. Why did you let him take it?”

“It’s from Mutter. You should know. ...Lutz. If anything, protect this with your life.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

——————

One day, as Ludwig overheard some servants speaking to each other in hushed voices, glancing at him every so often.

He was able to catch two things; “Miss Erzsébet” and “barren”.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But for whatever reason he didn’t like the sound of it.

That night, after some shouting, once again Roderich stormed out of the master bedroom, telling Erzsébet to “Get a hold of yourself already, you indecipherable woman!”, to his own separate room, as Erzsébet shouted some words back that sounded really angry and probably inappropriate.

Lutz thought, as Ludwig tried to sleep. Lutz, meanwhile, had no trouble.

————

13-year-old Ludwig stood outside of the bar, alongside Lutz, as always, and other members of his gang.

It was in a seedy, rough part of town. And it was where their rival gang frequented most often.

It wasn’t the most well-to-do of bars, to say the least; as soon as they entered, the air smelt pungently of alcohol, and ambiently of various nasties.

<Ergh. Try coming here as a dog.>

They immediately saw their target; the offending gang’s leader.

Their leader went up to confront her rival, fists clearly ready to fly.

“Hey! We know ya killed him!”

“Who?”

The rival boss said, with a cheeky grin.

“Ya know who!”

The two continued to escalate their argument, until they became close to blows.

“Enough yammerin’! Get ‘em, boys n’ girls!”

Suddenly, they were grabbed by the rival gang bangers, including Ludwig, who held back a yelp.

“We didn’t kill one of yer ratpack, asshole! Now get out or we’re gonna force ya out!”

“...You better tell us.”

Ludwig said, tersely, utilizing his now lowering voice and copying his mother’s tone.

The rival boss laughed.

“Or what, kid? What are ya gonna do, huh? Man your recruiting standards have gone down!”

His boss smirked.

“Ya better listen to the kid.”

“Or what?”

They laughed uproariously.

“Lutz. Restrain.”

Their laughing instantly stopped, their faces going sheet white, all the other bar patrons, the bartender, and staff turning to gawk.

For they bore witness to the gang boss being pinned down, on the floor, between the claws of a giant, terrifying hellhound, its eyes glowing, its fangs bared, its breath in the unfortunate gangster’s terrified face.

Ludwig walked up to the rival boss with measured steps, the gangsters holding him having let go out of sheer terror, the thumping of his feet the only sounds other than his companion’s breathing and the squeaks and sputtering from bystanders and rival gangsters, and pulled out his old pistol, aiming it at the thug’s head, glaring daggers so sharp that they could gouge eyes out.

Show your enemy no mercy.

Once again, he thought he felt his mother voice in his ear.

“Tell us the truth.”

The rival boss sputtered, shaking like a leaf, looking awfully smaller than the much younger boy.

“We… we… d-d-di…”

Ludwig cocked his pistol.

“Speak in a real language!”

The rival boss flinched, and the rest of the rival gang huddled, terrified.

“W-we didn’t do anything! I-I swear! I swear!”

Ludwig lowered his pistol slightly.

“...Really?”

“J-ja! I swear! I swear by both the Heavenly and Hellish Yards! P-p-please let me go, Sir!”

“...Alright. Lutz, release.”

The dog shrank back down to size, returning to his original, fluffy, cute self.

His boss grumbled.

“Whoop. That was pointless. Lud, let’s get outta this dump.”

They turned to leave, the other people in the bar still staring at them.

“W-Wait.”

Ludwig and his boss turned back to the humiliated rival boss.

“We might’ve not killed ‘im. But I-I have a good idea who might’ve.”

———-

“So, Lud. Good job today. We’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“Jawohl.”

Their boss patted Ludwig on the head and gave the group a once-over.

“Ok. You’re all dismissed.”

Ludwig was quick to leave, the others staring after him.

“What’s it with him? I swear, it’s like he doesn’t wanna be associated with us.”

“He said something about a curfew.”

“Really? Kid still follows curfews? What is he, 10?”

-----------------

When Ludwig came back, Roderich was waiting for him.

“Ludwig.”

“Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich’s expression was serious and stern.

“...What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean, Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich held Ludwig’s shoulders.

“Let me state this plainly.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’re involved in gang activity, aren’t you?”

Ludwig was in shock.

“How…”

Roderich shook his head, his hand on his forehead.

“Ludwig. I am sure even Julchen taught you to obey rules.”

“I… I don’t want to depend on you for everything. I feel like a leech.”

Roderich was shocked.

“You’re only 13, Ludwig! It is alright! It isn’t worth putting yourself at risk like this!”

“I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Roderich shook his head.

“Don’t say that. You could deliver newspapers, or use those piano skills I taught you-“

“And they’re my friends.”

“Friends?! I care for you, why do you need them?! Do you even know any of their names?!”

“...”

“You’re going to get into trouble eventually, young man.”

“I… I know!”

Roderich flinched.

Ludwig looked down and stormed back into the house, Lutz running behind him, into his room, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Hmph, teenagers...”

Erzsébet mumbled.

—————-

“Ludwig?”

Roderich opened the door to Ludwig’s room that night, peeking in.

Ludwig couldn’t bare to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry.”

Roderich sighed.

“Is it because I’m not Julchen?”

The boy felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I’m thankful for what you’ve done, and-”

“I see. Just try to forget about her, alright?”

Ludwig froze. He felt like someone had stabbed his heart.

“But…”

“I do so much for you. I give you everything. What was it that she had that I don’t? I’ve been a far better parent than that stone-hearted, cruel, cold-”

“DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT MY MUTTER!”

His voice cracked terribly, but he didn’t care.

Roderich stumbled back, his face pale, horrified.

Silence.

“Ludwig… I’m sorry.”

Ludwig buried his face into his pillows.

“...I’ll tell the servants to bring you dinner. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Leave me alone!”

“...I’m happy with any path you want to take. Just please stay safe.”

Roderich sighed and closed the door.

From that day on, Roderich started informing Ludwig of where police may find him, and locations of stations across the city. Anything for his safety, he had said.

But from that day on Ludwig knew; he knew that his suspicions were true, that all this time he was trying to make him forget about his mother. He couldn’t let that happen. It was only confirmation when he heard him brutally disparage her one night in a drunken stupor during one of his binge-drinking sessions.

Once again, Ludwig could trust no one.

And once again, wrath simmered within him.

----------------

Their boss summoned Ludwig and the rest of the gang to a gathering; to sort out their clues, they had said.

Ludwig was appreciated for his abilities; but outside of the action, he sat somewhat removed from the rest. He couldn’t connect with them much either.

His mother had despised lawbreakers; “scum”, “rats”, she would call them. If she knew what he was doing now, she would have caned his palms until they were raw and bleeding. She would have told him he was better than this. He never would have imagined he could stoop this low too. After all, he was his mother’s only son. He should have been destined for greatness.

Quite honestly, he didn’t fully understand what he was doing here either. How did he even get here? Was it just a business affair? Were they really his friends?

Maybe it was because this was the closest thing to military service he could find. Even if it were on the other side of the law.

A girl a year or so older than him, the second youngest in the gang, came up to him attempting to speak to him. Ludwig hesitated, but in the end continued to be fascinated with the clues they had and Lutz.

“Hey give up on Herr Stick-In-The-Mud already! Bet he’s never even kissed a girl!”

A gangster said, using the nickname they often used when ribbing him.

“What’s with him? He to good for us?” One of them muttered when Ludwig refused a drink.

“Ja. Imagine being one of us and caring about drinking ages. Never can understand Herr Stick-In-The-Mud.”

“Ja. Where was he raised, His Majesty’s Elite Imperial Barracks?”

“Hey, hey, did you hear that Boss might have the hots for him too?”

“Why don’t you fuckwits shut the fuck up?” Their boss barked at the last one. “The kid’s basically an infant!”

<You’re the most rule-bound gangster I’ve ever seen.>

“Why do they treat it as a bad thing?”

<You’re the one who joined a street gang, genius. They’ve got different rules.>

Ludwig looked at the bottle of cheap moonshine he had been offered again, sighed, and took a gulp.

He immediately gagged.

The last time he’d had booze was when Roderich had allowed him to try beer, and even then he had basically diluted half of it with water and it definitely didn’t taste like... whatever this bottle of horse urine was.

“Ack! This is awful! ...I did it, are you happy now?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Doesn’t count! He gagged!”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“Let’s get back on topic. We are discussing the murder of a fellow comrade. This is no time for inane chatter.”

Finally, the air became solemn.

“Ja, reasonable, I guess…”

“Now, onto the information Scout 2 gathered...”

—————-

Ludwig, more than anything, considered himself a logical person.

He and his mother both despised vagueness. It seemed pointless, really, all the dancing around the true meaning of your words in the name of “politeness”. While apparently many in this part of the continent were considered similarly blunt and practical, it seemed even then he was exceptional.

So his own emotional turmoil, how he could never seem to explain himself, frustrated him more than anyone else. It angered him.

But one thing he knew for sure was that he looked forward to stopping by the library on the way home. Thank goodness Roderich had taught him to read to a level more appropriate for his age; it was difficult at first, but he was also fortunately a fast learner.

He always had taken a fascination with the sciences. They were at first glance unpredictable, but once broken down and observed, logical. They made sense, they were rational. Recently, he started finding them more investing than fiction, in fact. And his new reading skills finally made the higher levels of it beyond simplistic drawings attempting to explain the laws of physics and magic accessible.

Which was why today he sat outside the library in his usual spot, looking through a medical encyclopedia, munching on one of many bars of dark chocolate and a small loaf of bread.

Lutz licked up pieces of chocolate Ludwig had given him, peeking from under him.

“HERS?”

Ludwig looked to Lutz in shock.

“How…”

“Though… Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome? Who names this stuff?”

<Hey. They probably had their reasons.>

“Why do you care? Did you come up with it?”

<Maybe. Plus, that’s rich coming from the kid who literally named me “Blackie”.>

Ludwig sighed.

“I... Fine. And wait... are you reading with me?”

<Yeah, I can read. I never told you?>

Ludwig continue to stare at him.

“I... I just didn’t think you would...”

"Maybe you could try reading a novel, Lutz?”

<Don’t care. Why should I care about what you flesh-apes think, much less fake ones? No one in the world knows what I’m thinking anyway.>

Ludwig closed the encyclopedia.

“You mean you feel that no one understands you, right?”

Lutz looked up, his ears erect.

His words struck him like a spark of lightning.

“That makes two of us”

An awkward few moments passed. For once in his life, Lutz had nothing to retort back.

Why was he so shocked?

Ludwig blinked, confused.

“Lutz? What’s wrong?”

<...Nothing.>

Lutz didn’t know what he had just felt.

“That makes two of us”

It should have meant nothing, coming from this brat.

But yet...

Whatever. It probably still meant nothing.

-------------------------

“We’ve got our guy! Rich bastard’s not gonna know what hit ‘im.”

Their boss said, confidently, gesturing to an assassin she had bought into their abandoned factory hideout.

The assassin looked across the crowd of gangsters.

“So. Which one of you brats wants to come?”

“Actually, we’ve got a good clue already for who’s gonna be a good fit for this mission.”

Ludwig waited, anxiously. He would gladly take the job of avenging his fallen comrade, of course.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig stood to attention.

“...You’ll be providing nice clothes for us to blend in!”

Ludwig was speechless.

“How… Why?”

But when all had left, he went up to his boss. He needed answers.

“Why am I excluded?”

She looked at him as if he was stupid.

“I don’t think ‘Giant Enemy Dog’ is a viable weapon to use on a cruise ship.”

“But… I can shoot well too! You said I was a great marksman!”

“You’re good. Gotta say that. Still, don’t know about your skills in stealth yet. Can’t risk it. Now, see ya.”

Then, she abruptly cut him off and left.

-----------------

Three days later, Ludwig and the rest of the gang not chosen for the plot awaited at the dock.

Soon, they spotted the assassination party, coming towards them.

One person was clearly missing.

“Hey! Boss! ...Boss? And where’s...”

Her face was dire.

“Shot dead. ...He spotted us.”

“He saw all our faces. All of you are fucked. We’re all fucked.”

More silence.

“...WHAT?!”

Silence immediately gave way to panic.

Ludwig stood, frozen.

“How… Why…”

He clutched his head, overwhelmed.

“But it can’t…”

Emotions swirled inside the boy, overpowering all of his senses, all of his thoughts.

What was going to happen to him? His friends?

“No, no, no, nonononononono…”

Suddenly, he bolted.

Along the harbor, he ran.

Then, in a burst of emotion and without much thought, as if on instinct, he acted immediately as Lutz took a running leap into the sea.

“SIC ‘EM, LUTZ!”

He didn’t even bother with the telepathy.

Everyone could only look on in shock and horror as Lutz became an utter behemoth of a beast, seemingly not completely solid and with a godlike glow, his tail alone twice the size of the ship; to those who were watching from afar, it would have looked as if a demon dog had risen out of the sea itself.

The ship was no match for the beast. Before anyone could fully comprehend what was going on, the ship had been sunk, every single person on it with it.

----------------

Ludwig walked back to the gang, who all stood staring at him, utterly horrified.

Finally, someone broke the silence.

“...Holy shit.”

Another turned to him, their eyes wide.

“...Lud? Did you just…”.

The boy’s mind was blank. What could he even say?

He had killed all of them. Every single one of them.

But in the end...

“Mission accomplished…?”

“Am I trippin’?”

“Did we just witness a massacre?”

“...What the fuck?”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“But we accomplished our mission. ...I did what I had to do.”

“Ja, but… Holy shit.”

“In anyway…”

Their boss cleared her throat.

“Let’s… Let’s go with this loot before the cops find out.”

The rest could only muster a “Ja” in unison.

Lutz trotted up to Ludwig, as unbothered as always.

“Lutz…”

In the dog’s jaws was a doll; an eerily faceless, unusual, porcelain-ish doll of indeterminable gender.

<Here. I brought a present.>

“What is…”

“It’s… it’s probably from a dead child, Lutz!”

<Don’t be ungrateful. Oh, and your buddies are waiting. You should go.>

“...Ja. I did what I had to do. We killed him. That’s all that should matter…”

————-

The news of the shipwreck was all over the radio. They had listened to it in their hideout, huddled around the device.

“The perpetrator is currently unknown. However, many claim to have heard the voice of a boy or young man scream for the dog to attack…”

————-

When Ludwig came home, Roderich was standing in front of the door, in shock.

“Ludwig…”

“Onkel?”

“...It was you wasn’t it?”

Ludwig looked down to his feet.

“Lutz, specifically…”

<Hey.>

Roderich pulled him into a protective embrace.

“You could have put yourself in so much danger! What if the police find out about you?! Don’t you dare do that again.”

"...”

Roderich pulled him in.

“Now, come in before someone recognizes you.”

—————

Roderich rarely ever let him join the rest of the gang since that day; it was too dangerous, he had said.

He went out in mostly in a dark hood for a disguise, at times without Lutz, for over the radio, one expert had identified the beast as “a black Fenrir transformed with powerful magic.”

Later that year, a month before Sancbruma and two months before his 14th birthday, he had heard something unusual.

<Ludwig… Ludwig…>

“Huh?”

Telepathy. But Lutz wasn’t with him; it came from the doll in his bag.

Ever since that fateful day, Lutz had told him to carry it for some vague reason he couldn’t understand; his alleged simple explanation was “It’s amusing to see you carry around a girly doll like that.”

<Ludwig...>

He took the bag off his back and looked in.

“What?! How do you…”

He slung it back over his shoulder.

“Lutz!”

He had to get Lutz. Now.

But by the time he had gotten home, it was too late.

“No, Sir, he is not here. You will not find him here…”

“There he is!”

Two figures stood with Roderich; two figures he didn’t recognize.

A tanned, sturdy-looking man in a black suit, probably from the south of the continent, turned his attention away from Roderich, and pointed at Ludwig, gun in hand.

“Ludwig Beildshmidt! You are under arrest!”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. Emotions and stress once again blitzed through him.

“Lutz! Restrain! ...Lutz? Lutz?!”

His eyes darted next to the man to the other figure, what Ludwig thought to be a long-haired, somewhat tall foreign woman in eastern attire, her dark, raven hair pulled back into a ponytail; seemingly holding Lutz back without touching the dog, but clearly struggling.

“Hurry!”

She shouted, in a foreign accent Ludwig didn’t recognize.

Ludwig bolted.

“Don’t you dare, you-“

“Herr Edelmann! Stop, or you will be arrested as well for interfering with police procedure!”

“Don’t touch him!”

The mysterious man finally shoved the weaker-looking man off him and gave chase, but Roderich grappling with him had given him some extra time...

“Ludwig! RUN! RUN!”

But before Ludwig could escape, all of a sudden he was blindsided by a third person, jumping on his back and pinning him down, the boy’s small body no match for the adult.

“LUDWIG!”

“Let me go, LET ME GO!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying before he had been slammed on the back of the head.

Ludwig blacked out.

To be continued in part 2...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author’s notes:

So I had to split this thing in half since it became much longer than I expected. Wow this is a monster. You will see the parts listed here after I write them. Parts, because this will have two different routes! Hopefully! Then again it seems like no one read this...

Also, the scene with the sea is even more ambiguous “canon” in this already ambiguously “canon” story, but I wanted to write it in because I liked it, having seen the idea that Prussia has some kind of connection to the sea before and liking it. I wish I could find it now. I think Alt-Prussia would have grown up with the sea when he was younger, and while he would stay very strictly a land fighter (in fact the Prussian navy was never all that good, being mostly a merchant fleet. Even the German navy, while it did go through a growth period in the 1880s in competition with Britain I believe, by WWII at least their Kriegsmarine kind of sucked. It’s why the invasion of Britain never happened, their navy would have been laughably curbstomped), and I still associate England, Netherlands, or Portugal way more with the ocean, maybe the North Sea has some kind of soothing effect on him.

Also adorable child!Germany is adorable. Why do I love this kid so much? Why is he so damn cute?!

#Mirror Week 2019 #aphmirrorweek2019 #Day 3 Alternate Universe #Germany pair #evillious chronicles #aph #hws #hws Germany #bringbackhetalia2k19 #Key to Zorn series #Evillious Chronicles x Alt-talia series #alt-talia #hetalia

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heroes-hq-blog1 · 6 years ago

Photo

SPECTRE IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› AHN SUNGJIN › 18 YEARS OLD › PSIONIC ENERGY MANIPULATION › NEW TO THE ACADEMY

POWER

psionic energy manipulation — sungjin is gifted with the ability to create, shape, and manipulate psionic energy produced by the mind. the boy being able to wield it even in its most physical forms. sungjin’s powers manifest in a glowing red mist.

STRENGTHS psi-energy influence — by channelling and manipulating psi energy in any shape or form, he is able to gain influence and control over its physical form. some basic uses of it are psionic energy attacks in the form of blasts, beams, bolts, and the like. also, not to forget his favorite application, psychokinetic influence where he is able to shape psionic energy around matter and control its movement. this is where sungjin is most trained and experienced in. psi-energy flyrogenesis — a defensive ability wherein he can generate a shield of psionic energy to protect him and others from external, physical harm. psi-reading — everyone has their own unique psionic energy in them and sungjin found that he is able to feel them – sometimes it’s a smell, sometimes it’s a color. they’re so individual, he, himself, can’t describe how they feel for certain, he just knows they’re there. when he knows the person very well and has been with them for long, he’ll be able to figure out who they are just by the feeling of their psionic energy. with the help of his brother he was able to develop this and is able to read someone’s current thoughts by letting his hand/s hover around 5 inches away or closer from its subject and draw out their psionic energy. psychic shield — due to the boy’s subconscious desires to be guarded and closed off from most, if not all people, his psionic energy was able to cocoon his mental self and become resistant to mental intrusion. psi-phoning (LOCKED) — the boy is able to draw out psionic energy from his subject (as long as it is capable of thinking) and use it for his own. psi-crippling (LOCKED) — by manipulating his subject’s psyche sungjin is able to elicit fear or emotional pain in form of nightmarish like hallucinations that could stun or cripple an enemy. these hallucinations appear as the subjects fears, regrets, or general disturbances, however the nature of it is not up to the boy. just like the subject sungjin can see and feel what they feel which can render him stunned and disturbed as well.

WEAKNESSES

sungjin’s powers greatly depends on his mental strength and mental state as well. if he pushes himself over the edge it could cause him physical and mental backlash (e.g. being knock back in result of impact, nose bleeds, headaches, and fainting). if the boy mental state isn’t in good condition he could easily lose control over it and not just harm himself but those around him as well.

the gifted boy’s hands play a huge role in directing the flow of psionic energy. if his hands were bounded or restrained in a way that prohibits him from moving them at all, renders the boy useless and unable to use his powers.

there are no distinguishable limits for time, weight, and intensity as it purely depends on how the variables act upon one another. sungjin can hold a full glass of water with ease for a long period of time as long as he focuses, however trying to lifting a car for a mere few seconds can definitely make him crack from strain.

sungjin can direct psionic energy as long as it is in his clear line of sight. sungjin needs to focus and know where he plans on directing his powers. his offensive attacks however are more potent the closer the opponent is. around the 500 ft mark, his attacks could still pack quite a punch but more than that it would noticeably be weaker. the farther the attack travels the lower the damage.

psionic energy barriers can only take as much damage as sungjin’s mental strength can bear. pushing himself over the these limits can give him specific backlash and render him unconscious.

smaller barriers can take considerable more damage than larger barriers.

currently he can only psi-read a subject by letting his hands hover over their head at a maximum distance of 5 inches or closer. any farther than that and their current thoughts will be unaudible.

the boy cannot read more than one subject at a time. even if he tried it would be useless as thoughts overlap and are even more difficult to understand as it is.

sungjin’s not completely immune to intrusion of the mind, the intruder will just need to exert more effort than normal for them to reach into the boy.

siphoning psionic energy from another subject can be quite dangerous as sungjin can take every last bit of psionic energy from them and leave none left for them rendering them in an unconscious state or worse in a coma. also another thing to note is how sungjin can only hold on to a different source psychic energy for a few seconds. doing so over the limit can result in an explosive blacklash of psionic energy.

when psi-crippling, sungjin has no control of what the subject sees. he can only trigger them but the nature of these hallucinations are decided by the subject (their fears, regrets, general disturbances etc.)

though he can choose whether or not to see what the subject sees. he cannot avoid to feel what they feel. great mental strength is needed as he can easily fall into shock if he isn’t strong enough.

ORIGINS

trigger warning for suicide, death, torture, and child abuse.

tw: abuse, hints of bullying, kidnap, assault, suicide

on the first page of a black, well-loved journal:

“to minnie”

“if found, please immediately return to ahn sungjin”

(the boy often writes on his journal and below are some of the important excerpts that serve as a window into the boy’s life)

mirror;

remember the monsters you were scared of minnie? the monsters you swore that lived inside our closet?

well, my eyes caught a glimpse of its very own reflection, today.

a monster who was coloured in hues of blues and purples, a monster who screeched in a deafening cry for help yet no sound was heard, a monster who was starting to fall apart in its seams beyond tired to try and put itself back together.

i wish you were here minnie. who’s going to stop the punches dad throws? who’s going to tend to the cuts and bruises? who was going to put hyung back together now?

i’m scared minnie.

i’m scared because the more i look in the mirror, the more i tell myself, the more i ask myself –

i’m not me, who are you?

hellevator;

have you been able to see mom minnie? is she proud of me, just as much as you were?

i guess not, especially if she saw you. knowing what i’ve done.

i wish i could be with you guys instead, it would probably be much better there with both of you than here. at least there, maybe i’d be met with laughter, hugs, and kisses – here it’s all just been curses, punches, and aches.

i don’t blame dad though, i deserve it. i deserve it all, all the stabbing words, all the fists thrown, all the pain that fills me up.

now that you’re not here.

there’s nothing for me, nobody really cares about me.

maze of memories;

i dreamt of you again, no, not a dream, it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare – a nightmare of that night.

it was so vivid, as if i was there, reliving it again.

the tight rope wrapped on chairs that bounded our hands. the darkness that was brought by the blindfolds around our heads. the writhing pain all over our bodies as they beat us to a pulp.

but you know what felt the most real? when i felt you take a huge blow to the head then nothing, emptiness. i couldn’t feel you anymore, i couldn’t hear you anymore in my head.

i wake up after seeing bright red and i just hug myself, crying.

what kind of brother am i? why couldn’t i protect you? how could i do this to you?

The inside of my mind burns and fills up with question marks that blame me.

m.i.a;

i miss you minnie. i miss you so much.

dad misses you too.

he thinks of you fondly, loudly even. he tells me you were smart, you were good-looking, you were his true heir – you were just great in everything you did minnie. he tells me that he loved you so much, tells me that you were his favorite, tells me that it should’ve been me on the hospital bed instead.

i couldn’t agree more minnie, i’m sorry for what happened, i should’ve protected you. it was my fault, it should’ve been the bad seed, it should have been the disappointment, it should’ve been me instead.

ah i’m crying again, but really when have i not?

i miss the little squeak in your voice when you get excited, i miss your hugs that keep me warm when i couldn’t sleep, i miss you telling me:

“take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff.”

insomnia;

i can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard i try. this will be one of those nights where i sneak into your bed minnie. you’d open your arms immediately to hold me, without hesitation and any hint of anger for waking you up, then you’d sing me to sleep. those nights were just the best nights of sleep i ever could have.

funny how i’m 7 minutes older yet i am the baby between us haha should i start calling you hyung, minnie?

i’m trying to sing that song now as i hug myself to sleep tonight but it’s not the same.

when the dark night makes everyone sleep, when they fall asleep i can’t sleep because of so many thoughts.

voices;

minnie i’m starting to believe them.

what have i done?

i should just end it all, give in, just as they say i should.

i’m starting to believe that i really did that to you. that i’m a bad twin, that i’m a murderer, that i’m a monster. i’m starting to believe everyone around me. there’s so many voices, i promise i’ve been trying to shut them out. tonight, however, it’s not working.

i can’t hear your voice anymore minnie, your voice that tells me to ignore the others inside my head. these voices, they’re just so many…

at some point, i only started to hear these nagging sounds.

my side;

it’s been a few years since that night, it’s been a few years since you’ve left me alone.

i hope you can feel me right now, my hand holding yours tight. i feel you minnie, i feel you there. i just wish i knew what to do so i can wake you up from this deep, deep slumber.

you know a strange person came up to me the other day. told me there’s a place for people like me. told me i could hone my powers there. i’ve been thinking about it nonstop. maybe there i can find a way to wake you up. maybe there i can find a way for you to come back.

a part of me wants to go, but a part of me wants to stay here holding your hand.

no matter what my decision may be, please bare this in mind minnie,

even if i’m not there, i’ll stay by your side

4419;

minnie, i’m at the back of the bus we always ride to get home. we had so much memories on this bus, didn’t we? can you believe that after all this time, our names that we wrote with that cheap marker is still here crystal clear?

oh, you’re probably wondering where i’m off to huh?

remember that place? the place for people like me? i’m on my way there now to get settled. i just hope everyone’s nice. you’ve always been the better one when it comes to people.

i��ve never seen dad so happy minnie, that was a first ever since… ugh i shouldn’t be thinking about that…

anyway, dad was so happy minnie ‘cause finally he got rid of me. about time, he said. don’t worry minnie, i’m not sad. just like you said “take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff”.

so i am. i will be better, i promise to do my best for you minnie. i promise with my whole heart, i will find a way to get you back.

someday, again at the same place, i dream we will meet again.

#hq:accepted #yang jeongin #stray kids

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star-crossedfidelity · 7 years ago

Text

Juliet’s Story: A Mistress’s Gift

Mun!Yuki: It is now April 20th for me! :D HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JULIET!!!! I’m honestly happy with how this story turned out. Because while Leon’s story was more of his optimism, This is mostly in-depth of Juliet’s character where I even explored writing different sides of her; Sides that she doesn’t even show to others except for Leon. This is now my chance to show more of Juliet’s character, and how this affects Juliet as she grew up; Unlike Hisoka, Juliet was born and raised with a normal childhood, without having to bear the responsibilities of being an heiress to the Kuroi family. PLUS THIS WAS LITERALLY 16 PAGES LONG! XD I’M HONESTLY PROUD OF THIS!

I hope you all enjoy! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SADISTIC MISTRESS!!!!!! XD

WARNING: THIS HAS SENSITIVE TOPICS SUCH AS BULLYING, STRONG LANGUAGE/SWEARING, VIOLENCE, AND ANGST!!!!

“Here you go, Jules!”

Juliet reached for her order from the Takoyaki stand. “Thanks, Kirishima.” She gave the man, Kirishima, the payment before enjoying her Takoyaki. “Anything for a regular! How’s your folks?” Kirishima asked. “They’re doing fine; Leon is in the process of recovering this year’s Prank.” Juliet replied as she continued to eat her Takoyaki. “Man, I heard about that; I feel bad for the guy, he’s such a good kid.” Juliet simply agreed, “Yup.”

Then there came the question.

“Hey, I don’t mean to get personal when I ask this, but isn’t your birthday coming soon?” The owner asked. “Yeah, on the 20th; About four days before my father’s.” Juliet stopped eating her Takoyaki as she sensed this conversation might become important.

“What do you wanna get for you birthday?”

Juliet looked at him questioningly. “Why do you ask?” She eyed suspiciously. “Because you’ve done so much for my family, not only have you come to our business so often as a regular, you also help babysitting the kids. Seriously, most babysitters would quit on the first day with them, but they really like you, and you even present yourself as a good example and actually take care of them.”

Juliet continued to eye him suspiciously, which made the man laugh. “I know, you rather cut your own tongue than to be assumed to be a softie; Don’t worry, I’m not assuming that considering the fact I know you and what you are capable of; But that still won’t stop my family and I from speaking fondly of you, unlike the others that think otherwise; You’re not a bad kid.”

Juliet’s blue orbs soften from the better understanding.

It’s true.

When she was 12 years old and was ordering a Takoyaki as a regular already, Juliet noticed the tension from the man, whom explained that a new babysitter quit last minute and they became worried as their children were rather wild. At the time Juliet needed money and something to do to get out of the house other than physical training and studying all day indoors, was already being homeschooled so there was no school rules applied to her about against having a job on the side, and had a lot of experience taking care of Leon growing up, so she offered to be their new babysitter. They were hesitant, but since they had no other choice, they accepted. After the first night, it was difficult at first, but Juliet ended up having them listen and do as she said. In the end, The Kirishima’s hired Juliet as their babysitter, resulting them to be good family friends, and now their children, for what ever reason, loved and admired her greatly; It was probably because Juliet refrained showing her sadistic traits and posed as the reliable big sister that she sincerely has been when pushing aside her playfulness, resembling her father when he took care of her uncles.

“So? Any ideas? It can be anything.”

Juliet looked up at him and sighed. “I haven’t thought about it, to be honest; When I do, I’ll tell you though.” The raven-haired sadist commented, “I have to get going. My brother will be getting out of school soon, and I want to walk with him so we can find a present for Father.”

“Hahaha! Well, I wish you both the best of luck! Your dad must be really lucky to have you guys as his kids! Not a lot of kids would go out of their way for their parents.”

Juliet nodded and waved goodbye silently with Takoyaki in her mouth, while Kirishima waved back with his usual jovial grin.

Some time past by once she made it to her brother’s school. School may have already ended but they were all probably in the middle of cleaning duty. Not wanting to let her Takoyaki go to waste, Juliet continued to eat it with a delighted look upon her face as she waited. God, there was nothing that tasted better than-

....

‘Huh...’

After swallowing one of the octopus balls, Juliet stared down at the remaining Takoyaki at it.

While it was true that Juliet normally didn’t like strong-flavored things, it was odd that that fact was contradicted by her love for Takoyaki...

When...?

When did she develop this love for this snack?

She remember being introduced to it by Uncle Ayato, but...

This was just a snack.

So...

“Why...?”

Suddenly, her mind wandered upon curiosity of that one question.

Yeah...

I remember...

It all started about nine years ago. I was about 6 years old. I was prepared to attend the first grade. Honestly... I didn’t like going to school without Leon by my side. But at that time, I was willing to wait a year to be able to walk beside him to school. Back then, I already knew I was a smart kid. And that isn’t something said out of arrogance. I knew because I noticed how different I was compared to the other kids.

“She got it right again?”

“She’s so weird. She doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“She‘s like a robot! She doesn’t even show any emotion! I bet if you throw something at her, her face will still be the same.”

Even the teachers there.

“She doesn’t socialize with anyone.”

“That brat is so disrespectful! She humiliated me in front of the entire class!”

“Yeah, That kid acts as if she knows it all. Why the hell was she even here?”

......

They were all so annoying...

All so ignorant...

It pissed me off seeing them act as if they knew me when they don’t...

Unlike them, I live in a world where Vampires do exist. I was born with the same blood as vampire hunters. My father was once a vampire before returning back into human. My uncles are still vampires. I lived in a different world from other kids. I was what they would call “different” in comparison to their general idea of “normal”. To their words, a “freak”.

This is why I hated ignorant people...

Just because I was different from them, they had the right to talk down to me...?

At that time, I thought I could handle it... because I wanted to get through it and wait for Leon when he attends school next...

But then.. a week after school started, a week before my birthday...

I snapped....

I was presented a flower by Leon. He wanted me to wear it to school because he thought I would look pretty with it.

And when I did wear it..

“What is with this flower?! It looks gross!”

The next thing I knew was that a group of boys caught me in a hold, forcibly grabbing the flower from behind my ear.

“What kind of idiot would just wear something this girly?!! Was it that sissy brother of yours that gave you something like that?!!!”

One of the boys scoffed and threw the flower on the ground... and stomped on it repeatedly with a smirk on his face...

Everything went black at that point...

The next thing I remember was...

A distorted classroom...

Horrified gasps from other children..

A chair within my grasp...

Hitting the boy’s body until it was bruised...

Yelling out the words “WHO’S LIVESTOCK?!!!!!” past my lips...

And whimpering from the bruised, trembling body beneath me, mumbling repeatedly, “I-I am..!”

At that time, I didn’t realize how much I really enjoyed the sight of this livestock on the ground being punished like that. How the bruises upon his trembling body were even turning purple. How his helpless whimpers and cries were like music to my ears. It was fascinating at the time. Who knew it would create a spark within me that would awaken the sadist within me.

I was forced into the chairman’s office, with my parents in the room. While the chairman wanted to expel me, my parents knew I wouldn’t have done such a thing such as snapping if something wasn’t happening at school... Unless I was given a good reason for snapping the way I did...

They later learned it was because I was treated unfairly in the school, with the students bullying me and the teachers doing nothing but watch and snarl at me. They wanted the Chairman to do something about it, but he refused. Apparently, due to the injures I gave the boy, it should be our family that is count responsible even though it was that boy’s fault for pushing me into snapping like that. The chairman even refused to allow me to skip grades, despite my intelligence being higher than everyone else’s. Then, It lead to Mother and Father to taking me out of that damn school. While now I feel it was the best thing ever since that school was just the worst, back then I thought I have failed...

I felt like a failure. I let my emotions take control over me. Because of the fact that I was different...

Now Leon and I would never be able to walk together hand-in-hand to school. All because I screwed up...

When we got home, I locked myself in my room. I didn’t even let Leon in, because I felt pathetic for failing....

On my bed, I held onto my cow plush that I’ve had since I was a baby...

Everything was quiet and dark...

I felt empty...

Like I didn’t care to continue living anymore....

I found myself ready to doze off, to forget about everything...

But then I heard a knock upon the door...

“Juliet.. open the door.”

I heard Father’s voice from the other side. And I felt fear.

Was he there to tell me how disappointed he was of me?

While it was true, I did do things father would disapprove of. But the last thing I wanted was to be a disappointment to him.

“I am aware that you are awake; So just open the door. I would like to speak to you.”

Feeling hesitant, I slowly got out of bed and slowly opened the door, coming face-to-face with Father.

“Let’s go.” He said, making me tilt my head and stand still. “Where?” I question. “We are just going for a walk; Get your coat, Juliet; You don't want to worry your mother, do you?” Father advised. I shook my head and immediately did as he said.

Next thing I remember, we were walking together hand-in-hand, on a busy street. We didn’t say anything. We just continued to walk. I didn’t want to say anything, in fear of the possibility of doing something he would disapprove of as a disappointment.

I could only look down.

That was when I smelt something delicious.

I turned my head to a Takoyaki stand, and felt my stomach rumble. My father must’ve noticed it by how loud the rumbling was. “Hungry...” I mumbled as I pressed my hand onto my tummy. I remember myself stubbornly refusing to leave my room, even when it was lunch and dinner.

My father sighed, but he silently took me to the Takoyaki stand. “Two please.” He ordered. I could only watch in confusion. If there was anything I knew, My father hated strong-flavored foods. This also includes Takoyaki, right? So why...

“Here, Juliet.”

I was brought back to my senses when my father handed Takoyaki to me. Hesitantly, I took it and thanked him before we could go sit somewhere quiet to eat. Once we did, I gave my thanks before eating it. I couldn’t help but savor the texture of it. It was heavenly. I remember being introduced to it by Uncle Ayato when Leon and I were being babysat by Aunt Yui and him. I remember taking a bite of it at that time and the wonderful taste of it, but I forced myself to forget it once we returned home. I didn’t even realize I was already finishing mine and that I was now eating the one Father silently placed on my lap above mine.

“It is quite surprising; You usually don’t enjoy strong-flavored food.” I heard Father comment. Swallowing my food, I reply, “Because it’s different from the rest.”

....

Different from the rest...

Remembering the incident at school and swallowing the last one, I couldn’t help but frown...

I couldn’t believe something like Takoyaki was able to make me forget...

“I want to know why you didn’t tell us.”

I turned to my father in surprise, “What do you mean?” I couldn’t help but question. “What do I mean? If you were having a hard time at school, then why didn’t you come to me or your mother? Even Leon never knew about this. I want to know why you kept this secret from us.” Father answered.

The tone of his voice...

It sounded scary...

Normally, I would be able to handle it.

But this time...

“I-I... I...”

I could only look down...

I felt my eyes being clouded with tears...

Word could barely leave my lips...

My voice started to crack...

“... I didn’t want you.. to see me as a disappointment...”

“What?” I could sense my father’s surprise. I couldn’t blame him. I was a strong kid. I was fearless. I was able to withstand my father’s anger. I never let words affect me that much.

I continued.

“They.. they tried to put me down... If I did.. tell you and Mother... I would’ve felt like a.. f-failure... I wouldn’t be a-able to walk t-together with Leon when h-he goes to school next... I-I-I tried to... n-not l-let it.. a-affect me... b-but...”

At that point, I couldn’t do it...

So instead...

For the first time since I was born...

I, Mukami Juliet, the Mistress of Sadism, the definition of a “Bad Girl”, the rebellious child, and the most dominant sadist you could ever meet...

“UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Cried...

They were tears of agony...

Tears filled with shame...

I felt utterly disgusted with myself...

My choices lead causing burdens...

Why was I like this...?

It’s not like I hated myself....

And I love my family....

But....

Just why?

Why was I different from the other kids?

Why did they have to be so fucking ignorant?

Why did I have to be the one in the wrong?

Why was I the only one different?!

I remember all of the emotions rushing through me at once, as soon as I started to wail.

Fear, sadness, anger, regret, shame...

It was all like a typhoon.

All of the tears bottled up within me were released. I couldn’t stop them, no matter how much I tried to stop them with my sleeves.

I’m sure it was quite the rare sight for anyone...

Even for Father—

Wait...

During the middle of my wailing, I felt myself in warm, strong arms.

They were.. my father’s...

“You may have done things that I highly disapprove of...“

I tried to catch my breath, to try and reply back...

But his next words lead me to even more tears...

“However, you are still my daughter regardless.. Both yourself and your brother are always going to be offsprings created from the forbidden fruit that your mother and I shared...”

Even at that age, I knew what he meant about the forbidden fruit that he and mother shared.

It was their love. The forbidden love they shared back then between a vampire and a huntress. Mortal enemies that eventually turned into star-crossed lovers. Their love that was strictly prohibited, much like the love from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, the story Mother has always loved since her childhood. Irresistible yet sinful. Much like the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve ate.

‘Thank god...’

This time... all of my tears were of relief.

I can’t remember how long it has been since I’ve started crying...

It felt like a very long time...

I believe I passed out from crying too much afterwards.. and that Father carried me back home... because I couldn’t remember what happened next...

On the day of my birthday, it was like before I even went to school. Everything was normal. Leon and Mother were both relieved when I left my room for the first time in a while. My Uncles came, along with Aunt Yui, to celebrate my birthday.

And for the first time in a while, I felt happy.

Uncle Kou got me a new dress, Uncle Yuma got me a set for dumbbells perfectly suited for me as a kid, and Uncle Azusa got me a stuffed bunny. Apparently, Uncle Kou and Uncle Yuma helped pick something out for Uncle Azusa. Back then, I didn’t know why; But now that I know better, it was probably for the best. Aunt Yui got me a journal to write in. And I was received another gift from our other uncle, Mother’s adoptive brother, which was a punching bag. Ever since the incident, My Uncles and Aunt Yui got worried about me. Uncle Yuma was the most furious, but luckily I was able to get him to calm down after I told him what happened next.

It was a fun birthday. But the most special moment for me was at the near end. When it was just Mother, Father, and Leon.

“Our turn!” My mother announced happily as she brought more presents. I could only tilt my head in confusion. “Mother, why didn’t you do this while we were opening presents already?” I questioned. “You’ll see.” Mother smiled before turning to Leon. “Leon, do you want Juliet to open your present first?” Which in response, he nodded and smiled innocently.

Leon’s present? At that time, I was confused. What were they planning? Leon, with the help of Father, carried his present to me, and began to watch me with glee. Now curious, I carefully opened the present and opened the now unwrapped box. I find it to be a small picture frame decorated with the same flower he gave to me the week prior. I look to Leon and gave him a hug. He wanted to give it to me for when I have a memory I want to always treasure. “Thank you, Leon.” I mumbled. “Your welcome, Sis!” He grinned.

I broke the hug to see what my mother had in hand. “This is mine, sweetheart.” She smiled gently. I nodded and gave my thanks to her before unwrapping it. Once I did, I saw it to be a familiar dagger. We all look to Mother, who looked at me with a serious expression.

“I know you are still too young and you don’t have to take the road my family prior did; However, I inherited this dagger when I was your age. It was your grandfather’s. He used it against bad Vampires to protect the people he loved until his last breath. It was the same reason why I choose to inherit it, and it later became the difficult path that lead me to meet your father.” She spoke giving Father a quick glance before looking back to me as I listened carefully, “Ever since I gave up being a huntress, I never used it in years, because the fight was already over; But I still keep it as a memento of your grandfather, to remember what I fought and risked my life for. So I am giving it to you, for the same reason: To remember what you fought for and to protect the ones you love.”

I look to Leon, who looked back at me. Even though we were children at that time, we both knew we wanted to protect each other. Even willing to fight for each other. From her words, I can only guess that Mother must’ve known how I was feeling when I was locked in my room. That She must’ve went through the same thing too. “Now I’m not giving it to you to use it against those who have hurt you like that school did. I’m giving it to you so you can look at it and remember what you have done.” Mother wrapped her arms around me and held me close in a warm embrace. I could tell she was speaking from experience. “You’ve made some reckless and bad decisions, but you didn’t give in to their bullying. You had enough the moment they did something you couldn’t forgive; And although you should’ve told us what was going on so we could’ve handled it calmly, there was no mistake that getting you out of that school was the right thing to do.”

I shook my head, “They were all ignorant livestock, Mother.” I spoke. Back then, I felt nothing but pity for the people back at that school. But now I know better, they weren’t worthy of my pity. They were all livestock anyways. Mother sighed at my choice of words, but I could’ve sworn at that time my father smirked slightly as if he was proud. Meh. Could’ve been my imagination. “Thank you, Mother.” I hugged back as tightly as I could, after placing the dagger away.

After a moment, Mother released me from the embrace and gave me a light kiss upon my head, before we all turned to Father. For some reason, his present was smaller than Mother’s and Leon’s; However, that made them both smile the widest.

Once he placed the present in front of me, I carefully opened his. It was a small box. And once I opened it...

I gasped.

“Father...”

Inside the box were...

A pair of light pink barrettes...

I look up to him with wide eyes.

I was met with a smile.

“Happy Birthday, Juliet.”

I was frozen. But he opened the barrettes and helped me place them in my hair. “Look.” Father pointed behind me, with Mother holding up a small mirror to show me my own reflection. “They look really nice on Sis!” Leon commented.

He was right. It was strange, but I really did look better with them rather than a flower. It was like as if they were made for me.

It... suited me...

Within that moment, I felt tears swelling up from the corners of my eyes and looked to my father once again.

And within an instant, I leaned into my father’s arms, hugging him tightly around his neck, and cried.

Since then, I haven’t exactly cried.

Mother and Father decided to have me be homeschooled; But since they both work and can’t offered to let me or Leon alone with someone we don’t know, Aunt Yui offered to take care of both of us and be my homeschool teacher. From what Mother told me, Aunt Yui was an excellent student who took studying very seriously, and even had a higher grade than even the most sophisticated Sakamaki brother, Sakamaki Reiji. With that said, Aunt Yui became my new teacher. Surprisingly, Mother was right. I was able to learn some new things from her as my teacher.

Even better, for breaks, Aunt Yui made me Takoyaki upon my request. It was delicious.

During those breaks, Aunt Yui confirmed my suspicions when she told me how Mother also went through something similar that I did regarding the school incident. When she was younger, Mother got suspended for beating up a group of girls that were bullying Aunt Yui. But Aunt Yui never knew about Mother’s life behind the scenes as a huntress, because Mother didn’t want to get her involved; Otherwise, Mother would feel like she has let Grandmother and Grandfather down for not being able to protect someone dear to her. Like when she wasn’t able to save them. Mother never even cried since the massacre until she was told it was okay for her to cry out all of her emotions she hid during her hellish training and since then. I can't even imagine my own mother being hostile or aggressive like that. Or suffering horribly and trying to hold it in like that. That must’ve been hard for her, having to carry a heavy burden.

And from what I learned from Uncle Kou, Uncle Yuma, and Uncle Azusa, Father was also the type of person to carry heavy burdens too. No matter how stressful it was, being the leader and the eldest, He often tends to stand on his own, and has even pushed Mother away when she first tried to help. Even he had his own problems that he was struggling with that he hid from them. From what I was told, It made sense why he tried to keep it all in. It must’ve been difficult. Being the eldest and the leader that takes care of the younger siblings, desperately wanting to fulfill the debt of someone for saving your life even when the goal was impossible for you to complete yourself, finding out and eventually try to hide an ugly truth about the one that saved you, Et cetera... Just thinking about all of the things Father had to deal with just made me think if it was with Leon, I would’ve done the same thing no matter how bad it would be for me.

So I was similar to them:

We both didn’t want to be appear as a failure.

We bottle up our feelings to avoid showing any sign of weakness.

We are willing to do something risky if the one we care for are involved.

We stubbornly push others away to stand on our own.

We don’t want the people we care about dearly to getting hurt.

....

Now that I think about it...

Were...

Were Mother and Father trying to save me from committing the same mistake they made?

To hold back emotions and turn it all into stress?

... They didn’t want me to become like them in the past.

They.. really did care for me.

They did love me...

I was really their kid...

And for that, I’m forever grateful...

“Sis!”

Juliet looks up, and sees a familiar blond with a grin on his face. The grin slowly disappeared and was replaced with a concerned look upon seeing the Takoyaki still left unfinished. “Hey, are you okay? You didn’t finish your takoyaki.. And that’s saying something.” Leon questioned, worriedly.

Juliet looked down and saw she has not finished her delicious snack. Picking up one of the balls, The raven-haired girl silently gave it to her brother. “Here.” She offered; However, Leon continued to look at his sister with a concern look. “A-Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again. “I’m fine; Just hurry up and take it.” Juliet eventually got tired and shoved the octopus ball in Leon’s mouth, catching him off-guard, “What are the chances you will ever get an offer like this from me again? Honestly.”

While her expression remained as stoic as it always was, Leon can tell that there was a glint in his sister’s eyes that told him to not push the subject further; With that said, Leon decided to drop it and just eat the takoyaki.

After that, they started to walk together the shopping area to search for a gift for their father. “Hey Sis.” Leon broke the silence between them. “What is it?” Juliet heard footsteps stop behind her, making her stop and turn to see a serious look upon her little brother’s face.

“... What do you want for you birthday?”

Such a question caught Juliet slightly off-guard. ‘What’s with this question today?’ She thought to herself. “Leon, you should know be better than anyone else in the world; Why would you even ask something stupid like that?” The raven-haired girl raised an eyebrow to show her confusion. They grew up together and know everything about each other. They could even understand what the other is thinking and even turn that into a game.

“I know but.. you don’t ask for anything, Sis.” Leon tried to explain, “You try not to make your birthday a big deal; It’s your birthday, the day you were born! There’s gotta at least be something you want!”

‘Something I want...?’

While it is true that Juliet doesn’t make her birthday a big deal or have anything in mind for a gift, was there really something that she herself wanted?

...

‘Ah... That’s right...’

“Leon, when it’s your birthday coming up and when you are asked the same question, your response was that there isn’t anything you want in particular either.” Juliet retorted. “I-I..” Leon stuttered, caught off-guard by the question. “Why is that?” The raven-haired girl question. Leon‘s tongue was tied for a moment until he looked down and responded shyly, blushing. “It’s because.. the best gift I could ever ask for.. is our family, our friends.. a-and our loved ones...”

There was a silence until Juliet spoke, as it was her turn to break the silence.

“Then you should know already.”

Leon looked up in surprise. His sister looked back at him with a rare smile. A smile that was only reserved to those who she deemed worthy.

“We’re siblings. We grew up together. You should know that if that is why you don’t ask for anything else, it’s not just your reason; It’s mine also.” Juliet responded, revealing the kind side of her that is extremely rare to see, “Do you understand now?”

Enchanted by the rare smile and the rare kind side of his sister, Leon nodded. Out of everyone in the world, it has always been the blonde that has seen this side of his sister the most. That’s why, despite her bullying him and her sadism, Leon knows that there is a good person underneath it all. It’s just his sister rather be known as a monster to others. Only those who work to become worthy enough to Juliet can be rewarded to see what’s underneath the layers of the sadistic mistress.

“Now hurry up, let’s go.” Juliet immediately dropped the smile and returned back to being stoic, “Or else, I’m going to leave you and go on ahead myself.”

Leon couldn’t help but grin before quickly walking next to his sister’s side. That’s his Sis, alright! The one he knows and loves! Juliet took notice of his grin.

“Why are you grinning like that?”

“Because I love you, Sis.”

“You’re creepy.”

“But you love me anyways, right?”

“Do you have a deathwish?”

“Eh? N-N-No, Sis-“

“Come again?”

“Ma’am! I mean, N-No Ma’am!”

“That’s better.”

There was no need for a birthday gift...

Objects are replaceable...

As long as you have a family that care for you...

Friends that accept you...

Just at least someone that loves you for who you are...

There was no need for anything else in the world...

#juliet mukami #leon mukami #Yuki's writing

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b1a4seeyou · 7 years ago

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“Promise of Protection” (Zen x Reader)

Summary: Feeling lonely is one of the reasons for a person to hang around with someone they trust. That’s what makes you to visit your childhood friend. Until lately, he’s gotten busy with his work and the loneliness overwhelms you inside. What will you do for those feelings to go away?

Genre: Maybe considered angst but it’s mostly fluff.

Rating: None

Note: Finally finished writing this. A late @mysmesecretvalentines gift for @angelsdoexist ! Picked out the ‘firefly’ prompt because it’s much easier for me, I guess. This is a childhood friend AU, just a heads up haha. And I recommend you reading while listening this song here to add up the mood! I hope you enjoy! /o/

“Hey, Zen? Do you want fried eggs instead?” I asked him. “Nah, I think that should be enough.“ As he looked up from reading the script. I prepared simple french toasts as breakfast for the both of us. I placed our plates and sat across from him. Once he saw the food, he folded the corner of the page he’s reading and set it aside, “Thank you for the food.“ Then he started digging in. “Mmm! It’s so good! I never have any doubts on your cooking, MC.“ I’m glad that he loves my cooking. It’s the least I can do every time I came to his place.

Ever since I started living alone, I can’t help but feeling a little empty inside despite there’s no one to talk to or help out the chores. Luckily, I happened to live nearby Zen’s place, my childhood friend! We’ve been known each other since we’re neighbors. Knowing him, his handsome and odd features attracted people’s attention, he was well-known in the neighborhood! But sometimes he was looked down by certain people, and that’s where I came in! I was his protector on every negativity and supporter of his dream, just like any friend would do. And now, he’s an actor of a musical play like he always dreamed of. Back to what I was saying, Zen let me stay for a few hours or sometimes sleepover in his place so I could get some company from the loneliness. Him being generous is the Zen I know very well. So as repayment, I helped him out with some small chores and help his practices.

We both chatted about our days while enjoying our meal. Zen’s stories never gets bored about getting the main role and how people reacted to his skills and looks. That’s so Zen. A day without complimenting him is a sin to me. Haha, kidding. Once we’re done with our meals, I was just about to take his plate but he held out his palm, “Uh uh uh! Let me do this.“ He then took mine and went to the sink, “No, wait, Zen. Let me do it!“ “Nope, you’ve done a lot for me already. Let me help this out for once.” “But-“ “No buts! You know, I sometimes feel bad that you have to do everything for me. So let me help you out, okay?“ And gave me a playful wink and a chuckle. The fact I suddenly felt hot on my cheeks, I realized that I can be read so easily. I know he just playfully did that but I can’t help feeling that’s specially for me. Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. I’m developing feelings towards my one and only best friend. And the more reasons why I kept coming here. Even though I’ve been keeping these feelings, I’m afraid if we don’t have any mutual feelings. Feeling friend-zoned is much more painful than being rejected. And the fact he kept saying there are a lot of pretty actresses and fangirls came to him, the jealousy inside me just kept growing. But I rather let this friendship continue on, rather than making ourselves awkward if it didn’t work out well.

We both cleaned the table and after he finished washing the dishes, he went back to his seat and continue reading the script. While he doesn’t notice my attention on him, I observed his expression whenever he tries to imitate a certain line. His gifted acting skills is what made him special, adds up with the hardwork. I smiled to myself, thinking I’m really lucky to see him everyday, even though he has a fan club. He paused for awhile then suddenly his expression changed, as if he remembered something. “Oh, MC. I just thought you should know, my schedule might gotten a little tight so I may not be home or some sort.” “Oh. I see.”, I replied, a little disappointed but tried to hide it. “Well, you are an actor. Tight schedules are pretty common these days haha. So don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I do come by.” “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you waiting for me. I’m not sure if I’ll get back-“ “It’s okay. I don’t wanna bother your work, Zen. You’ve worked hard to get that role so I think you should focus more on it. I’ll just...come by and help you clean your apartment.“ I laughed it out, though it was just a cover up from my disappointment. He heaved out a sigh, “If you think that’s okay with you, then I’m fine with it. You have the spare key so you can drop by whenever you want.“ I gave him a salute pose, making him laugh. Seeing him smile makes me happy but it hurts, knowing he won’t be here if I do give a visit. I shake my head, letting out those bad thoughts and having my hopes on seeing him again.

The next few days, I came by to his apartment after my work shift, with the key in hand and opened the door. “Heyya, Zen! I’m-“ Then I realized, this place is a little quiet with no presence of living. I entered his room, calling out his name several times but no response, until I saw a small folded paper on the dining table. I unfolded and read its contents.

“If the person reading this is MC, the director called us to stay in the theater for practice reasons so I won’t be there for a few days. You can stay in my apartment if you like. Just make yourself at home!

PS: Don’t force yourself to come by. And make sure the door and windows are locked. I’ll get worried if something happens to you. ;;”

He must have known that I’ll be coming here since, well, I do come here pretty often. I’m guessing this must have been planned the last few days. The folded lines can be seen quite well. I sighed. Alrighty then! I have decided, I’ll stay here for the night! It wouldn’t hurt since he did said so himself in the note. I did some personal things like eating, browsing the Internet, a little cleaning...But, it doesn’t last for 3 hours. After a quick shower and dressed, since I brought some here before just in case if I did plan to sleep here, I was humming and about to open my mouth but once I opened the door to the living room, my expression dropped. Right, he’s still not home. I sighed and fell down onto the sofa. I thought that maybe if I stayed here, I could at least feel his presence and lessen the loneliness, but it’s the same from staying alone. “Maybe I’ll text him? Letting him know I’m here.“ I stood up and grab my phone on the desk. I opened a messenger app and see if he’s online, but to no avail. The sadness gotten stronger inside me but I shake it off and text him.

And just like that, I dropped my phone to my face and sighed. My chest is hurting from not seeing him. At least let me see him once before he went of to the theater. I..miss him. I miss his voice, I miss his jokes, his laugh, his undying narcissistic self. I miss all about him. Even though it’s only a day, I wanted his presence so I could fill this need for him. Even though my heart is screaming at me to confess, I still don’t have the courage to even say those 3 words. I rolled on the sofa, having these complicated thoughts in my mind is frustrating. Maybe getting some night fresh air could do the trick. Thankfully my clothes are appropriate for an outside walk so I grab my cardigan and head out. Aaaand locking the doors and windows, I don’t want Zen to get worried about it.

A few miles away from the apartment, there’s a central park with a beautiful scenery so I walk towards it and take a stroll. There aren’t any people in this park, probably because of the busy construction nearby but it doesn’t bother me much. It’s night time so not much people are coming here anyway. Walking further to a pond, I stood nearby a tree, admiring the sparkling lights from the water with the images of the moon and stars. Tonight’s a beautiful night, would be more special with someone you love. I heaved out a sigh and spotted a bench at the back so I sat on it. I covered my face with both of my hands, mumbling whatever I want to let it out. As I looked up from my frustration state, my eyes widen as a tiny floating light came to view. My eyes then came to focus on the pond, a swarm of tiny lights are floating in the park. I looked around, never expecting fireflies coming out with my current state. I held out my palm and a firefly landed on it without any hesitation nor fear. Suddenly, I recalled a distant memory from the back of my mind.

“Look! Fireflies!“, a little girl exclaimed while she tried to catch one. “Hmph! Where are you going?! Come back here!“ The girl shouted with determination filled inside her and chase after the one little bug. “MC, don’t run too far!“ A voice of a boy called out to her as he joined along the chase. “Your parents will get worried.“ “Don’t worry! It’s gonna be A-Okay! Zen, help me out,“ She then told him to try catching at least one firefly and put it in a jar. Both of them were energetic and determine to catch one, until then, “I caught one! MC, look!“, the boy ran towards her and showed the jar with a firefly in it. “Uwah! It’s so beautiful!“ “Well, not as beautiful as you, MC!“ “Z-Zen!“ “But you are! I’m not joking. Even though you beat up those mean baddies and scared them away, you’re still beautiful and awesome!“ He said with those sparkling eyes. MC was a little flustered with his compliment so she grinned and thanked him. “Oh, but what are we gonna do with this? We’re not gonna keep it forever, are we?“, little Zen said as he looked at the poor creature trapped in the jar. “Nope, let’s keep it for a night! Oh! How about you sleepover at my place? We can watch it together. Once it’s morning, we’ll let it fly away to its home!“ “Oh, that’s a great idea!“ The both of them asked their parents for permission and headed to their houses. Little Zen came to her house with the jar in hand and went straight to her room. They both laid futons on the floor and placed the jar between them. Once little MC turned off the lights, the light from the firefly emitted even brighter like the stars above. “Wow, it’s so pretty!“, she exclaimed in awe. Little Zen had been quiet for some time, admiring little MC’s excited expression. He took a deep breathe and said, “Hey, MC. Can I say something?“ She looked up from the jar, “Sure. What’s wrong?“ “I-. I wanna become stronger and protective like you. You’ve been protecting me ever since and I don’t wanna be a weakling like the others called me. Once I become a man, I wanna protect you from any danger and be by your side like you did for me.“ Little Zen’s eyes stared into hers as she was in shock. “I promise. I’ll save you from anything that’s on your way. I wanna be the man you can depend on.“, he continued. Little MC was still quiet, then suddenly a smile appear on her lips. “If you want to be a man, you have to grow up first. We’re still kids, but let’s protect each other to make it fair.“ “Promise?“, he held out his hand and pulled up his pinkie. “Promise.“ Then they both crossed their pinkies as locking their promise.

“Promise...“ Now that I remembered it, that was a really distant memory, we both might have forgotten about it. The firefly might have been the reason for it. That said, the little creature on my palm started to fly away, joining its group. Then, a thought came to mind. What if I catch one of them like last time and showed to Zen like it’s a welcome gift! I nodded at that thought and stood up to catch one of them. This may sound childish but no one’s looking and this is just only once so I followed the firefly and tried to catch it. Using my hands is the hardest but determination is in my veins, no one can stop me! A firefly bluntly flown passed me so this is my chance! I quietly tiptoed to the firefly and my hands already raised to catch it but suddenly, my foot slipped on a slanted part and fell into the pond. I haven’t realized that I’m near the water! I gasped for air, screaming for help, knowing there’s no one in this area. My eyes started to blur and before my eyes were closed, a blurry figure came to me. I can hear the water splashed, the figure was here to save me. I can feel the grass on the ground, brushing my hands and my abdomen being pushed. “Come on, MC. Wake up!” Seconds later, I spitted out the water and coughed. I sat up, still coughing and looked up at the source of the voice. “Z-Zen?!“ “Oh, thank god. Oh you got me all worried right there.“ I-It’s Zen?! But isn’t he supposed to be-? Zen noticed my shocked expression so he covered me with his coat and started explaining, “I happened to take a stroll here. I read your messages, saying you’re staying at my place and thought that I could come back. The rehearsal was finished, thankfully so I can finally get to see...you....“ He scratched his cheek with embarrassment but he shook his head, “Then I heard a scream nearby and...” He sighed and put his head on my shoulder, “I’m just relieved that you’re okay.“ He suddenly looked up to face me with his worried expression, “What were you thinking?! If I weren’t there, y-you could have....“ He stroked bits of my wet hair as if it’s the most precious thing and touched my forehead with his while sighing. “God, you made me so worried. You’re lucky I’m here, I thought I might lose you.“ “I-I’m sorry, Zen. I was just...trying to catch them.” “Them?“ I pointed towards the fireflies. He was looking up in awe and a smile appeared, enjoying the view, “It’s beautiful, but...what for?“ “Remember the promise we did when we were kids?“ “Promise? ......Oh.“ His face was in shocked and he suddenly covered his mouth in embarrassment, “What about the promise?“ “I thought that maybe if we could be like those days, I might actually get closer to you.“ “Look-“ “The truth is-!“, both of us said in sync. “You go first.“, I said. “Oh no, no! Ladies’ first.“ “Alright, alright.“, I chuckled, “I...hope you don’t mind me saying this. I don’t wanna make things awkward but I’ve been holding this feeling for a long time and the more I’m keeping it, the more painful it gets. So, Zen.....I...I love you, ever since that day.“ I said it, I just said it! But his shocked expression told me the answers already, “I-I know you don’t like me either but I just can’t help it so-“ He suddenly embraced me in his arms, completely surprised on what this means. “God, I thought I was gonna say it. Damn, that was embarrassing.“ “W-What do you mean?“ He broke our embrace. “You remembered the promise, right? About me being the ‘man’ for you? I thought I already proved you enough. Letting you stay in, keeping you safe even though I’m away. But then again, I thought to myself, that isn’t how you protect her. So I thought, maybe I could stay in the theater for awhile, trying to understand what does protect means to everyone. Then, after I saved you, I finally understand. Protecting is making the person you love safe from any danger, no matter how small it is, and stay by their side forever.“ He cupped my cheeks with his hands and leaned his forehead on me, making sure I have enough warmth. He then whispered, “From now, I promise, to protect you however I can so you won’t get hurt anymore.“ “Hehe, alright, Prince Charming. But, question. I thought you knew how protecting means.“ “You know kids with their determined sayings without knowing what they meant.“ “Pft, come on. You’re not that blunt.“ “Alright, alright. I do know what it means but seeing you like that, I don’t think I’m not letting you go.“ He nudged our noses, pouring every affection to show that he, “I love you, MC.“

#Mysme secret valentines 2018 #angelsdoexist #Mystic Messenger #Zen #Zen x reader #Zen x mc #I was thinking what kind of music I should recommend #Then suddenly my mom and aunt were watching Goblin and one of the OSTs were playing #So I was like OH YES #Then smack that link in here #And I thought I could gif the chat but I gotten lazy so I just still it #I MESSED UP THE ENDING I HOPE IT DOESNT BOTHER YOU #AND NOTE #I AVOIDED THE HATE POINTS DONT WORRY #Fanfiction #Eunhwa writes

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crowkingwrites · 7 years ago

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War Creatures (Ch.4)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary: In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2512

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108748/chapters/25302339

I would not give up that easily. He may have rejected my invitations the first couple of times, but he will not reject it this time. I was determined to spend time with Loki. I refuse to have a quiet and fruitless marriage.

My parents did not easily get along when they were first wed. They did not love each other, but they were friends. They talked to one another. They spent time with one another. Then they had my sisters and me.

I sent Elise with another invitation to Loki, but not for tea. Loki had been here for a week, and he has not visited the Highgarden library yet. If I was correct, Loki could not turn me down. Given that he was tired of the people at our reception, I could only assume he would like to enjoy peace and quiet instead of conversation.

I wore a dress with longer sleeves today as it had been raining all morning. I loved my home, but whenever it rained I had to avoid certain hallways and rooms because they were open to the elements. Today was a perfect day to stay inside the library.

The Highgarden library was not as grand as the library in Oldtown, but it was close. Poets and writers of the Nine Kingdoms would come here to write, read, and find inspiration. We had old collections and histories of the Nine Kingdoms along with new tales and stories of war and love.

The library itself was two stories tall with shelves that reached for the ceiling as if they were growing trees. Books and scrolls were organized and kept neat due to my mother’s fear that anything could be damaged. I flopped myself down on a worn chair. It was old and torn, but the lumps made it comfortable. It also constantly smelled like candles burning.

I picked up my copy of Tales of Love and Lore of Highgarden and started at the beginning. Many books were written about my family and ancestors, however this book was more about our people. Who they were, their fights, their romances, and their happiness written in this book.

Just as I was about to read, I heard giggling. I turned to my left to see blonde curls and a bright colored dress.

“Elise?” I said aloud to myself. She was shushing her partner. I tilted my head and shifted my body to get a better look.

Armor with the Odinson crest and blonde hair gave it away. Fandral. Loki’s friend. His hand went to stroke Elise’s cheek so gently. I felt myself blush at spying at the pair. Fandral pulled her close and whispered in her ear. A pang of jealousy rang in my stomach.

No, that was not fair to Elise. She deserved love. Ever since the tryst with an honorless soldier, Elise’s heart was full of woe. I did everything in my power to make her happy, but it was no use. I couldn’t give her what she truly wanted, but maybe Fandral could.

Elise’s eyes smiled at her new admirer. She closed her eyes and they kissed so softly and quietly. They were in their own world. There was no oncoming war, no rebellion, and no children being hurt. There was only them, and I looked on like a caged bird looks at the sky.

At least one of us was happy.

I continued on to the next story as I felt a small tap on my shoulder. I turned sharply, but I was met with disappointment again as I saw Frigga smiling back at me.

“Again?” I said a little bit more rudely than I wanted to be.

“I’m so sorry, Cecilia,” Frigga apologized. “The war council—

“I know,” I interrupted her. My mother would slap my hand for doing that.

“If you long for company, I would be happy to join you,” Frigga said. I shook my head.

“Did he say why?”

“No, he only spoke of the rebellion.” I stood up from my spot.

“Thank you Frigga. I do appreciate your kindness, but I would like to enjoy reading by myself today.” I bowed my head, and she repeated in return. I tried not to keep my hopes up, but I couldn’t help but slouch my shoulders and drag myself back to our room.

My mother claimed it was only proper that my husband and I shared a room despite only knowing each other for a week. Collectively, Loki and I had a lot of things together, so our room looked crowded and messy. There was green everywhere. Green curtains and sheets, green plants, and a dark green bed to finish. Our handmaidens sorted through our clothes, but they left the books and personal items untouched.

As a child, I was taught to never touch something that isn’t yours. However, Loki’s pile of books in the corner looked so curious. Some of them had a squid carved into the binding, others had leather and metal. I picked up one of Loki’s books and looked at the cover. The Rogue Prince. It was smaller than the other books, but it had new binding. The leather was shiny and soft. The pages were yellowed and some of the corners were folded in. I opened the book to the first page and I saw handwriting inside the book.

Loki, I had asked the author to give me an early copy of this for your birthday. I hope you enjoy it. Love, your mother, Frigga.

It was his birthday gift. How sweet of her to think of something like that for him. My mother was very protective over any piece of literature she could find. A book that was tarnished by its owner is an abused book. That trait passed down to me, but the written inscription was very sweet. I turned the page and I almost froze. Handwriting was all over it. I turned to the next page, more handwriting and arrows and lines. I kept turning the pages to find doodles and symbols all across the book. It was not in Frigga’s hand. This penmanship was quick, big, and skinny.

This was Loki’s hand.

I had read the Rogue Prince before, but never this way. Loki had put down his thoughts and deductions on the margins of the pages. I read one of them.

His choice will have consequences. He does not see it now, but they will unfold in front of him. He will not be able to stop it. He can only be a spectator to his own downfall.

Loki had a dark mind, and I became rabidly curious. I sat down on one of our larger seats and began reading. With every page, he wrote more of what he thought. It felt like he was talking to me about the story and about himself.

The Archmaester writes of war like a sad, romantic thing. This is awfully naïve of him. War is not romantic or sad. It is angry. It is the screaming of thousands of men. It is the wrath of their mothers begging for their safe return. It is the promised vengeance on the wronged.

I never liked war. I thought men could resolve their issues with conversation and compromise, but we did not live in that kind of world. Loki was right. War was awful and angry. It made new wives into widows. It made children lonely and mothers depressed. I wanted to take in all his thoughts so badly. I stopped reading the story completely, and I focused solely on his marginal notes.

Love is such a delicate thing. I hope when the time comes that I will handle it as carefully as I can. I must promise myself that I will treat her, whoever she is, with kindness and respect. I will vow to myself that when she comes for me that I will give all of myself to her.

My heart skipped a beat. He wanted love too. He was preparing himself for it. Perhaps he wasn’t rejecting these invitations on purpose. Maybe my father and his men kept him away because they truly needed him. I curled up into the large seat and exhaled all of my doubts out. My mother underestimated him. Loki would be a good husband to me.

: Loki’s POV:

I could tell Lord Garth was getting frustrated just as much as me. I received messages from my brother and my father every morning. My father would tell me his ideas to relay to Garth. He wanted to march on the Riverlands and go to the Vale and the North. Garth agreed with him. He just didn’t know where to start. Riverrun was an option, but Laras, a high-ranking general, kept arguing against it. He claimed Harrenhal would be easier to sack. To my best knowledge, Harrenhal was a haunted and empty place. What use would we have for it? A safe haven? A waste?

The wooden map laid in front of us like blank page. The options ran through my head. Taking Riverrun, sacking Harrenhal, defending Casterly Rock. I felt a growing pain between my eyes. I had been stuck inside this room with the same men arguing over one another for days.

This was madness.

Garth raised his hand, and all his men stopped talking.

“We’re taking a break,” he sighed. “There is food in the hall that has been waiting for us.” My eyes itched and the headache grew on my forehead. I rubbed my eyes as I followed Garth and his men to the dining hall. Meats and ale were placed on the table for us.

His men no longer spoke of war or rebellion. They spoke of their families and their favorite books. They spoke of their wives, and I remembered mine. I had barely seen her since we wed, and I had rejected every single invitation she gave to me. I looked at the ground. Dirt covered the stone tiles.

“Loki, go eat,” Garth said, patting my back. “Standing around will not help you think. Food in your stomach will.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I replied. I tried to shake the feeling off. He guided me over to his spot and I sat next to him.

“You’re guilty about something,” Garth quietly said as he started to eat his chicken.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Your eyes look towards the ground. You’ve been nursing an ache all morning. On top of that, you’re a recently married man and I haven’t seen you smile once.” I felt my stomach drop. He was right. I filled my mouth with food, so I wouldn’t be able to answer.

“I’m not stupid, boy,” Garth told me. “Your brother is with the idiots. You are here with me because your father knows you have a better mind than your brother. You are in the company of some of the best minds in Westeros.”

“Yet, none of you can agree with each other,” I muttered.

“With intelligence comes disagreement. Some of it is out of ego. Other opinions are out of concern,” he explained. “Rebellion is never easy. Everything must be thought out. Every single thing.” I continued to eat. Sir Petra was on the other side of the table. Over the past couple of days, he had done well to avoid me.

“Lord Garth, how long has Sir Petra been in your service?”

“Over ten years. He came here with practically nothing. He was fighting in illegal rings when guards brought him to me. My wife advised I would throw him in the dungeons. I thought his talents could be used elsewhere.”

“So you gave him a knighthood?” I narrowed my eyes at Garth. He chuckled.

“Yes, everyone was against it. Saying I was using poor judgment. My men do not come from rich backgrounds, Loki. They come from hardship and the dirt. I would rather plant seeds than throw them away. This is a kingdom of growth, not of punishment.” I hummed. Lord Garth knew more about ruling than I could ever hope to. His peers respected him and they followed his orders. I couldn’t help thinking if that was all there is to it. Respect and growth.

“What if he betrays you?” I asked.

“Then he is a fool. What kind of a man waits ten years to betray his lord?” Garth said. “Why do you ask these questions, Loki? Did Sir Petra offend you?” I shook my head.

“He looks familiar to me, that’s all.”

“Petra has been to many lands. He’s never mentioned Pyke, but I know your father has taken you to other kingdoms as a child. Maybe you have seen him somewhere else.” Garth continued eating, and I let the suspicious thoughts go. A man who waits ten years to betray his lord is a fool. Suddenly, Fandral took a seat in front of Lord Garth and I, making a fuss to sit down as if he ran here.

“Where have you been?” I said, still rubbing my forehead.

“Busy,” Fandral smiled.

“Busy enough to skip out on the war room?” I said.

“Yes, someone has to write and deliver the constant messages between Odin, Thor, and yourself,” Fandral explained. I wanted to believe him, but I knew when people were lying to me. I observed the discolored marks on his neck and chest. Another lover. I rolled my eyes and continued to eat. If I scolded Fandral now, Lord Garth would think ill of my men and myself. I would save this lecture for later.

“Have we decided on any actions yet?” Fandral asked, half of his mouth full.

“Unfortunately, my spies haven’t seen or heard anything from the Vindici loyalist. I assume he’s close to King’s Landing. Going to Casterly Rock with a united force seems to be the best and most supported idea,” Garth wrapped his large hand around his equally large goblet. “What of Odin? Thor?”

I sat up, ready for Fandral’s report.

“Odin had avoided detection so far in the North. He is going in disguise out of fear of the Jotun people and House Laufey. This morning he sent a white crow to blend in with the snow. As for Thor,” Fandral shot a knowing look at me. “Thor and House Anker are scrambling. They sent a party to find the Vindici loyalist, but have heard nothing back from them.”

I placed my head in my hands. At least Garth’s men were organized and smart enough to know better.

“Does Odin know of this?” Garth asked.

“I only assume so,” Fandral frowned. “If the party does catch and kill the loyalist, what then?”

“King Malekith would assume the worst and he will respond.” Garth said.

“And if the loyalist makes it to the King?”

“Then our King will know of this rebellion sooner than we wanted him to. Either way, Thor and House Anker of Casterly Rock are in danger.”

I sank my head further into my hands. This rebellion has not started yet, and we were already losing it.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki imagine #war creatures #game of thrones crossover #marvel fanfic

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brownandebony · 7 years ago

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FAÇADE

(Hello! Before you read it, you should know this is my first ever story I’ve ever written and am still working on it. You can find it on my page in my bio under the link writings. You can also find this story on wattpad. This is a teen fiction, so idk if this will be your thing. Anyways, this story is about all the bullshit in the world, from depression, anxiety, sexual assault, bullying, body shaming, slut shaming, family issues, religion related issues, homophobia, to everything that’s wrong in the world. I was just done with all the negativity and this came up. The only motives of this story is to promote love, humanity, friendship and to help people and tell then there’s someone who understands and is there for them. Reviews are very much appreciated.)

Chapter 1

"Not happy, Not sad. But Empty"

Cold breeze, dark sky, illuminating moon & rooftop. My contents of peace. Sitting there, looking all over the quiet neighborhood, I was thinking about nothing & everything. I wasn't alone. I had the company I've learnt to love the most. Silence. In all honesty, I forgot what my voice sounded like. During this long summer, I barely muttered a word. My mind wasn't quite though. It never is. In fact, sometimes it speaks so much, I think I'd explode. I'd love to actually. To end this whole cycle of silence, unnecessary breathing & heartbeats. But I won't. I won't give them the satisfaction.

Tomorrow marks the end of this peace. The silence will be forced to be broken. I'd have to walk those corridors and bare the harsh gazes & whispers. I'd have to sit in a room full of people, yet be alone. I'd have to defeat them in their own game & not be that person again. I'd never be that person again. Truth is, I don't want to be that person again.

The only satisfying thing about it all is that, everything would just last the duration of a year. After that, I'd leave everything that my life now composes of and never turn back.

I'm not sad. No. But I'm not happy either. Neither excited nor afraid. It feels like I'm numb. Devoid of any emotion in existence. Empty.

From about two years, I've been dreaming to runaway. I've fooled myself into believing that as soon as this last year of high school ends and I'm eighteen, I'd leave it all and never look back. But sometimes I think, how dare I? I may be able to leave behind these people and the surroundings, but how dare I even think I can run away from the memories? The haunting nightmares or the demons that chase me, when I know it's not possible? There will always be the marks.

The night air became unbearably chilling and it was getting late. Tomorrow was the first day of school, so I'd have to wake up early. Not that I sleep anyway. So I decided to call it a day. I stood up from my positions on the tiles and began walking over to my bedroom window, but something halted my feet. My demons. "What if I jump from this roof? Everything will be over for good. I wouldn't have to run away or wait for a year to do it. I'll finally be at peace". As tempting as that sounded, I forced myself to decide against it. During this summer of unendurably long days and thoughtful nights, I decided I will give everything a new chance. I will pull myself together and not let them win. I won't lose this time.

I climbed through my window to my bed. Sleep wasn't as easy to drown in though. I kept floating all night, swaying with my thoughts, watching the neon purple lights from the shop on the opposite side of the street casting mesmerizing shadows in my otherwise dark room. But it just wasn't the captivating lights or thoughts that kept me awake. It was the fear that if I sleep, the nightmares would come back and I'll be left out of breath and hopeless. So hopeless that every positive thought I mustered would scatter again & I'd be left alone to re-collect those pieces and re-build my already fragile hope.

I think I've heard this song already. I was laying on my bed, with my hair falling off the edges and headphones on, waiting for my cousin Cassandra to pick me up since twenty minutes. School is at a well off distance from my house but I didn't mind walking, rather I preferred it. But since I wasn't one to make my own decisions, I had the liberty to complain. To myself only of course.

Walking to school didn't seem appealing even when I dread riding in her car. I don't want to face her, nicely putting my real thought of not wanting to see her face. Yes, walking would give me time to myself but that's the least of my needs, when I have it all the time. I actually wanted to have my own car, but my salary from being an assistant in a music/book store mocked at my desire.

This is my last year with my mom, so I want it to be as less rocky as possible. Reason why, I didn't argue over her decision of Cassie picking me up. Also, arguing would honestly feel strange, when from the past few years, all I've done is either a bare nod when she talks or ignore her. Talking would feel really foreign.

As soon as I heard the horn, I scurried down the stairs and left the house. My mother was home, but I won't inform her about my departure, nor would she wave me goodbye, kiss my forehead, or wish me luck. It's just the way my life goes, and I've come at peace with it.

I could tell I was just as unwanted for Cassie as she was for me, so there wasn't a question of greetings. I was about to sit at the passenger seat, but something caught my eye and my empty senses felt something. That feeling which is the most prominent to me whenever I come across people. Anger. The person seated there was the one that made me loathe the ride in Cassie's car which I already hated. There seated was Logan. Cassie's boyfriend. I had to compose myself for the sake of Cassie, because no matter how complicated situations had become between us, I knew I didn't have the guts to hurt her. Maybe because she still mattered to me? I cursed myself to let me feel this way for her, but that's the way it is. At the same time, I'm determined to see that one day, when everything about this bastard would disclose.

I flattened my fisted palms and calmed my ragged breathing and took my seat in the backseat and we were off to school.

"BEAR!" Cass yelled in excitement as soon as she saw me come outside the door. She was the only one who could make me smile this big. "Bear" was her nickname for me, which only she called me with.

It was the first day of our 9th grade and we decided we'd walk to school together.

As soon as I saw her, we both clashed & crushed each other in a heart-warming hug.

"Cass! We met just yesterday but I really missed you. I guess the hug makes up for it." I loved her hugs, I loved her cheerful voice, I loved her in general. She was the only tie who was keeping me up with the world. She was the reason why I had friends despite being so lost & haunted every time. She was my strength & my motivation to live. Let's just say, she was more than just a cousin.

"Well, Hugs are the best way to greet. Without it, the start won't be good enough." Cass smiled all teeth. She clang our arms together and we headed to school.

I shake my head at the memory. I couldn't help but think about those times even when we came so far from it. From each other. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss her, and it wasn't about pride either. She hurt me, and that more than anybody could ever do. Even more than him.

We soon reached the campus, and I got off the car the soonest I could. The air was suffocating inside. But instead of going into the building, I took my place at the grass below a tree with my sketchbook and began looking around for inspiration.

I love people. Not in a socializing sort of way, but because of these little things they possess that makes them 'them'. All those things that are oddly beautiful. That are the most intriguing. Those small things that they fail to learn the worth of. For example, that skinny blond sitting on the front steps of the school, looking at the clear sky which made the blue in her eyes shine in the most magnificent manner. Or that girl standing in the middle on the school fore-ground with an over enthusiastic but a genuine smile, straight black hair and heavy positive ambience. Even this well built guy leaning against his car, trying so hard to look cool, when his cute freckles make him 'him'.

My gaze constantly fell back on the raven hair and I just couldn't help it. She had a pull in her. A magnetic aura, warm & welcoming. She was just looking around and observing everything with what I can identify as pure excitement. She looked gorgeous, a little restless and clumsy by bumping on every passing person, but very charismatic at all. What actually knocked the breadth out of my lungs were her forest green orbs that were literally glowing. Those were hands down the most gorgeous pair of eyes I'd ever seem.

I decided on her and began sketching her as best as I could. I looked up from my sketchbook and down again with my hands constantly working, but the third time I did it, she was nowhere in sight. The only part of her that I couldn't get right were her eyes. Disappointment settled in me with the thought of this sketch never being able to be complete. But it wasn't my lack of artistic abilities that I didn't get her eyes right. In all honesty, I'm an artist of quite a caliber, because of having a habit to do it all the time. It was my escape from everything life threw at me. But it were her eyes. They held so much more than green to them.

I was having the urge to find her, look closely into her eyes and get it right. But she'd think I'm a creep. She won't understand the frustration of unaccomplishment that I was feeling. She'd think I'm some random lesbian girl throwing herself at her or as they say- A slut, a whore. If that would affect me is the question. I have become thick skinned to profanities as such. That's what happens to you when you get used to it. So used to it, because every single person you cross paths with, has at least once used it on you, maybe not at your face, but they did. Besides, I’m not a lesbian.

So, better late than never, let me introduce myself. I'm Barrett Gerber. A seventeen year old artist and the school slut.

I packed all my stuff and finally forced myself to get started with the day. As I entered, I took my time-table and stuff from the office and headed towards the locker assigned to me. I couldn't though. There were these people, seeming like the whole school population cheering, whistling and yelling 'fight-fight'. I only had one wish- to come across as less people as possible but life smashes this in face as if saying 'bitch, you thought'.

As I was tearing my way through the crowd, I was grabbed at several inappropriate places, much to my displeasure but a usual occurrence. I pried their hands off me kicking and punching my way through that crowd and was fully exposed to the scene in front of me. As soon as I realized what was happening, it didn't surprise me to a bit. There was this school jock Dave, holding a girl, maybe a nerd against the lockers, who, as far as I could see was a newbie, had black hair in a mess with her lips busted, and an all over pretty messed up attire. It soon hit. It was the green eyes.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make peace with a few things though I convinced myself that I did. Like being called the profanities because the words still stung, being touched and toyed disgustingly and bullying. I lied to myself because I don't want to be vulnerable again besides just because I'm used to it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore. Even though, I wanted to stay invisible to bare this last year before leaving everything behind, I was not letting this happen in front of my eyes. It wasn't going to be pretty, but I was ready to take it.

"Dave" As soon as the words left my lips, there was eerie silence. Whenever I wasn't alone in this school, there always happened to be quite a scene. I would be the center of attention much to my hatred and that's what's happening now. Loud murmurs occupied the silence and all eyes were on me. I hated it, but my mind was occupied with two very distinct things. First, how strange it felt to hear my own voice after so long. It was like I forgot how to speak before this moment. My voice is nothing like I remember. It contains no emotion now, nothing like a year ago. I sounded calm. Frighteningly calm.

Second- I won't let Dave hurt anyone even if it means I have to do something that most displeases me. To be the center of attention. To have all eyes on me. I am a confident person, trust me, but those eyes were cruel and judgmental. Some so ruthless that they undressed me with it every single day without a shame in the world.

"You have a pretty messed up idea of fun. Let the girl go." My tone was very calm, too calm to be normal but at the same time very threatening. It wasn't intentional though. Maybe all my thoughts were forming its own structure, because I sure wasn't trying anything. I held his eye contact and looked him dead in it. I could swear he seemed uneasy for a split second, but in the other, he laughed on my face.

"Why would she try to save this bitch's ass?" Dave mused to his friends pointing at me whilst laughing.

"Ah! Maybe now she’s a bi. Must wanna have the best of both worlds." As soon as Patrick, one of Dave's poesy member said, the whole crowd burst out laughing. I couldn't take this anymore. If I stayed, my control that's already wearing thin would die. I grabbed the girl's wrist, ignoring the whistling and hooting and began dragging her out of the circle we were in. There were many remarks made but a certain one made me halt my steps and tighten my grip on her hand.

"Once a whore, always a whore, yeah?" My blood was boiling. They were being successful in what they wanted to do. Hurting me. But I decided against showing that they had an effect on me. I was about to walk again, but the words reached my ears first.

"Don't have to comprise with that blackie, you can always fuck me." Dave's voice felt like I was lashed then salted all over my body. This was too much. The control I was having on myself was long gone. I turned around as swiftly as I could and gave Dave an uppercut punch and kicked him in the groin. He fell to the ground hissing coherent words while grabbing his area.

"You seem pretty fucked now. I hope you're satisfied." I gave him a tight-lipped sarcastic smile. I was walking off when he muttered "bitch" in a venom laced tone, so I decided bitch it is and gave him another kick at his spot. It wasn't like I was a trained martial arts ninja or something. I just took him off guard and was fairly angry and the combination worked for me.

"You can get your asses to work. Hate to say this, but show is over assholes." I spat at the respective audience with a very sweet tone and an even sweeter over-the-top smile. I felt a tiny hint of life with the confidence that I displayed. It felt good to take out some load of your mind. Maybe it really isn't Barrett like to hide in a corner just to escape everything with safety. I felt more me now. It felt good. I should've known better that I wouldn't be able to take whatever thrown at me. This felt so right but not enough to actually make me happy. Apparently, I was far from it. But I felt better.

The hallway was now clear except for me and the girl. When I turned, she had her jaw practically hitting the floor and was staring at me with wide eyes. She was constantly gazing at me and finally muttered a silent ‘whoa’.

"Barrett, Barrett Gerber." I broke the silence and let forward my hand for a shake. She looked down at my hand, closed her hanging jaw and shook my hand frantically and with the energy like she fed on electricity. I gave her a raised questioning brow. When she realized what I asked for, the bulb over her head lighted and an ‘oh’ left her lips.

"You, my friend are the real bond. Look at that style! Hyora, Hyora Gerard. That son of a bitch, anonymous bullying cunt. First commented filthy things about me but when he couldn’t take my sass, flipped on me. That bastard. I mean just suck it up I’m not interested in you, my standards are bloody high. I would’ve taken him down on my own, no biggie, but thank you for saving my ass" She rambled it all in one breath whilst shaking my hand.

"Nice too meet you Hyora." I said it as a well known fake courtesy. It wasn’t nice to meet her. She is of the worst kind. The over-enthusiastic, overly-happy, too nice friendly people who end up back-stabbing you. She reminds me of the last one I encountered of her sort.

"Thank you a million times. That, what you just did was SICK! Weird, isn’t it? My name? It means the fresh one, the one envied by everyone. It rare." She genuinely smiled at me. At this moment I envied her. How could she smile so effortlessly? Without even having to take a moment and just doing it like it's her reflex?

It was the most of an interaction I could bare. She sure seems like a nice person, all the more reason for me to stay away from her. So I just turned away & took off for my first class. I didn't even make a step properly when I froze in my track because of the girl’s voice who was now trailing behind me.

"I'm glad I made a friend on the first day. Lucky me, eh?" She said.

She may be one of those fakers or not. But if she isn’t, I wouldn't want her life to be the slightest like mine. She deserves better, better than me as a company and better situations than the aftermath of our friendship. I am no good for her and she is too good for me. Being near me will just ruin her. And even if I’d want her company, which maybe I do, she’d still eventually turn her back on me like everyone else does.

I shook my head and carried on to my destination. It may have seemed rude but in all honesty, this was the best thing I could do to her. She may start hating me or think I'm a bitch, but I don't care what it is as long she keeps her distance from me.

I'm no good.

#facade #story #my writing #writing #book #my book #body shaming #anxiety #depression #friendship #bullying #high school

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tomhollandish · 8 years ago

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I’ll See You Tomorrow

(A/N: i played myself and I’ve also been listening to this for two days straight and honestly isn’t this just the mood for today)

Summary: Peter Parker has fallen for you so very hopelessly, emphasis on hopeless.

Word Count: 3,158

Warnings: Minor cursing

Freshman Year

Both elevators open with a soft ding, the timing a little off. Peter Parker jumps at the echo, already halfway down the hall with the strap of his messenger bag tightly in his grip, eyebrows shot up as he looks behind him cautiously.

He sees someone rather familiar, with hunched shoulders and one foot out of the elevator doors. They’re frozen still, with wide eyes staring back at him, like he’s the one thing they’re most terrified of. Backpack hanging off one shoulder and mouth open, they look like they’re about to say something, but only a faint noise comes from their throat.

Then Peter notices the brand new copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in their hand, bright blue nails digging into the spine with dread as the two of them stay at a standstill. Peter’s mind whirs with things to say, and finally, one sentence makes it out.

“Are you in Mrs. Edwards class too?” It’s such a lame sentence, but it gets rid of the tense air surrounding both of you. They nod, even if minutely, and Peter takes this as a sign to continue talking.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He hasn’t moved from his spot, but they’re quickly coming up to meet him, eyes never leaving the floor. He decides to keep walking in order to make them feel more comfortable, the sounds of their footsteps filling the in-betweens of their awkward dialogue.

“Y/N L/N,” you say, and immediately the recognition lights up across Peter’s face.

“Did your family just move into the building?” he asks, glad that he’d struck another topic before running out of things to say. You weren’t making it very easy to converse with, but then again, he wasn’t the best talking partner in the world.

Your eyes picked up for a second, and Peter was able to catch a flash of your vivid irises before they landed back to your feet. He felt like he’d seen something personal, and he adjusted his glasses as his face heated up in slight embarrassment.

“Yeah,” you spoke up, drumming your nails against the books held tightly to your chest. “I’m new to like, everything here.” You admitted this with a small laugh, one that only tipped the corners of your mouth, but Peter couldn’t believe how much it transformed your face. Everything shifted, and resting beneath your shaking exterior was someone Peter wanted to see smile again.

He was so wrapped up in those thoughts that he didn’t realize it was his turn to speak. “Oh!” he said, articulating his surprise aloud. You turned your head to him in confusion, and he finally got a good look at all your features.

Perfectly combed hair framed your face, eyes attentive and sharp. Your eyebrows furrowed, making a small crease appear in the middle of your forehead. Your lips were slightly open, almost formed in a pout as your eyes narrowed further. Despite looking at him like he was an idiot, you were surprisingly cute, a thought that fried Peter’s brain in the .2 seconds it took him to think it.

“Uhh,” he stammered, having lost his train of thought once again. He hoped dearly that this wouldn’t develop any further—starting high school was already the biggest inconvenience of his life; having a crush that lived in his building was going to be the death of him.

And yet, when Peter dared a look at your face and saw the small smile, he couldn’t help but feel it wouldn’t be a total loss.

“I could, uh, help you out, if you want? I mean, I assume you’re new to Midtown and Queens, and well, I’ve lived here my whole life, so if you ever need to know…anything, I could help you out.” He was completely aware that the sentence he just spat out was a train wreck, but you didn’t seem to care. You ducked your head back down and mumbled something unintelligible, which made Peter feel more at ease about his blunder.

You stopped a moment before he reached his door, your apartment right next to his. If his face wasn’t on fire before, it certainly was now.

Your hand reached for the knob as he fumbled for his key, but you paused, waiting in silence as he finally turned the lock. The soft click alerted you, and finally your shoulders relaxed, staying that way even as Peter bit his lip and looked up.

Before he could put the icing on this truly mortifying cake, you quickly told him, “See you tomorrow,” opening your door and hurriedly escaping from view.

There was not a slam, the door shutting itself as Peter stood, fingers clutching the handle with strength he didn’t know he possessed. He bit his tongue to keep the stupid smile from spreading wide across his cheeks, but it only half worked.

You were cute, you were his neighbor, and he would see you tomorrow.

Sophomore Year

Everything was loud in his ears: the whirring of his old, old desktop; the rattling of the wind against his rickety window pane; the soft, ever present ticking of the clock that hung against his wall. They all blended together in a cacophony of sounds that could drive a man insane. Instead, it drove Peter to anchor all his thoughts into one thing, one constant sound or presence that could drown out all preexisting noise.

Luckily for him, you were in the room.

Sitting contemplatively at a desk, you chewed on the edge of a mechanical pencil, eyes skimming over a thick notebook. Your hair was pushed out of your face with a thick dark red headband he remembered very vividly from freshman year gym class. Everything about you in this moment is a little less prim and proper than you are at school, which not only does he not mind, but Peter has found he prefers.

You tap your pencil against the glossy pages of a thick textbook, groaning as you do so. The sounds you make suppress every other noise, and Peter can finally hone in, rolling over on his back as he stares at you. “Something wrong?” he asks, glad that he can finally focus on something.

You lay your cheek against his desk, eyes closed as you frown. “I’m going to fail this test, Peter. I’m going to fail it so bad.”

He had an inkling of what you were talking about. While he had chosen chemistry for his second-year science, you decided to pick astronomy, which to your horror was more physics based than you’d initially thought.

He chuckled at your antics, watching as you rolled your eyes into your head. “I’m a mess, Peter Parker. I’m having a quarter life crisis.”

“Did you plan on only living until you’re sixty?” he questioned, and you laughed, your entire body slumped and shaking.

“I’m not going to live much longer if I don’t pass this test!” you yelled hysterically, laughing in between groans. “My parents will kill me! It was really nice being friends with you.”

His laughter dies down a little, the pang of your statement finally reaching his chest. In his head, he knows what you said wasn’t awful at all, but his heart still sinks to the floor, goosebumps erupting on his skin. Something like tears prick in his eyes, not because of your words, but because of his own anger and disappointment and something else that makes him want to empty his entire stomach into a trash can.

He plasters on a smile as the world of ticking clocks and rattling windows and his increased heart rate consume him once again. “You’re going to pass this test Y/N. You’re like, the smartest person I know.”

The sentiment is fake; Peter can feel how plasticy and generic it is the moment it tumbles out of his mouth. Even you snap your head up, looking at the brunette like he’s grown another head. “Smarter than Ned, or Amadeus, or Michelle? That sounds fake,” you ranted, leaning against the back of his swivel chair. Your feet barely hit the ground, stretching your toes as you rocked side to side. “Try again.”

He really didn’t want to spill every single kind word he had about you, for fear something he didn’t want to speak aloud would also slip out. Your eyes were narrowed on his form, as though you were trying to glare him into submission. He held his palms up in a peaceful gesture, taking a small breath before starting.

“What I meant was,” he hesitates, forming the next sentences as carefully as he can to avoid humiliation. “You’re probably one of the most naturally smart people I’ve ever met. You never do bad on anything. You’ll pass this out of your own brilliance, and I hate you for it.” He chucked in that last bit to keep his heart from taking over his entire chest, the words aching him to say.

A bashful grin took over your features, you and Peter simply looking at one another with smiles on your faces. Peter couldn’t bear looking at you so directly for so long—he felt like he was looking straight into the sun.

However, you were worth the burned corneas and any other trouble. Or so he was trying to tell himself.

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” you told him, and he wished you hadn’t. But he was glad you did. The mix of emotions stormed inside him, further adding to his feeling of nausea. Your eyes flitted to the clock on his wall, a gasp escaping you.

“Hell!” you said kind of loudly, pulling together your things in a rush. Peter laughed through his nose as you tried to slip on your shoes, with less grace and ease than anyone he’d ever seen. “I didn’t know it was that late!”

It wasn’t, not really, but your parents were somewhat strict about when you were to be home. Peter could have ushered you out, holding the door as you tried to cradle all your books and papers in the crux of your arm, but he was too busy being thoroughly distracted by thoughts of you and him, and other things that were impossible and implausible.

He saw you open the door, but he couldn’t quite remember the smile you threw at him, an unrestrained thing that winded him and killed him. “See you tomorrow!” you hurriedly told him, disappearing from view like a ghost.

Junior Year

Being on the same bed as you is nerve wracking to Peter, no matter how many times he does it. At this point, he’s not sure what gets him the most: if it’s you, sitting cross legged and doing absolutely nothing of interest, or if it’s the distorting ideas that arise every time he so much as acknowledges what he’s doing.

It’s pretty obviously the latter, but this doesn’t stop Peter from beating himself up about it.

Your room is over aesthetically pleasing, from windows draping the room in fading orange sunlight from one wall, to the bookshelves overflowing with fiction and stole children’s novels and strange memoirs. Your shoes are lined up against the side of your unframed queen mattress, which holds the two of you comfortably. Which to Peter means “he can feel your body heat next to his arm.”

You truly are doing nothing of real interest, writing something for one of your literature classes he is not in. AP English was never on his radar, but it seems to be on yours. Some book with the word “grass” in the title is just under your fingertips, while Peter pretends to be interested in whatever you’ve got blasting from your computer.

Sighing, Peter falls onto his back, crashing his head against your pillow. He wanted to take a deep breath and smell the scent of your shampoo on your pillow, but his lungs ached too much to even gasp for air. You seemed to notice his flustered state, leaning yourself back so that the two of you were sprawled out on your backs.

“This isn’t familiar at all,” you observed, and Peter nodded slightly. You two had been here many times before, spewing nonsense until your lids got heavy and his heart hurt from not having you. The pain was dull now, an ache he just had to get over, like hurdles in a hundred-meter dash.

He was still trying to jump the first one.

“We’ve gotten so old, Peter,” you said wistfully, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut, because if he didn’t he could almost imagine you being truly old: an elderly version of you with greying hair and slight wrinkles and only growing lovelier with age. Perhaps you were staring into an ornate mirror in their foyer, Peter’s hand resting on your shoulder as he kissed your temple.

The vision blurred away as he opened his eyes, and he thanks every deity out there for it. Peter rested his hands on his stomach and answered you back. “You say that every year, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes, trying very hard to steel the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cause we get older every year, doofus,” you nudge his side with your elbow, and instead of feeling a ticklish warmth, all he senses is a jabbing pain. He winces, wondering when your touch became less magical.

“You’re reminding me how age works, but you can’t even remember Piaget’s stages of child development,” he responds, and you immediately sit up. Peter’s brows raise as you lean onto your elbows, face indignant.

“Okay, that shit is hard and you know it!” you yell at him, a smile spreading on your lips. Peter also smiles, because he’s proud of you for finally cursing in good context, and also because you look really nice with your eyes alive in defense, almost hovering above him.

“I’m not judging, I’m just pointing it out,” he shrugged, and you scoff with folded arms. Peter laughed at your childish pout, wishing that this three-year crush mashing up his insides would finally cease. It wasn’t fun anymore; there was no rush or thrill, just a stubborn ember of hope that perpetually rekindled itself. It was tiring and predictable, leaving him frustrated with himself.

Peter wanted to be your friend, to be happy with you and for you, to just be content like this, and not wish for anything more. He wanted more than anything to rid himself of this dead feeling in his chest, but for some reason, it persisted.

He looked at you, with smudged mascara and orange nail polish and a faded red headband. Everything was the same, and yet not all at once. Peter groaned as he sat up, noting that outside, the day had turned black.

He didn’t announce his leave, but you turned to him, hair splayed around your face as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said absentmindedly, settling your laptop onto your stomach as a podcast he’d heard before played its jazzy theme song once again. Peter waved back, slipping out of your room without a look back, no matter how much he wanted to.

Senior Year

The hurt of it all crashed into Peter the moment he saw you, his eyes the size of the moon. He could hardly believe it when he looked at you long enough, catching details he’d never really noticed in the past…God, how long had it been?

Peter often thought of the irony of the first time you’d met: you were so afraid of him when he should have been much more terrified of you.

You were poised at your door, which stood less than five feet away from him. Your glossy brown nails flashed as you inserted your house key to the lock, your other hand holding fast to a copy of Shakespeare. Through flawless makeup Peter noticed your eyes crinkling in amusement, watching him with a small smile.

“What?” you asked, lightly laughing the longer Peter took to answer. The truth was, he couldn’t properly articulate why he was standing there like an idiot. Perhaps it had just dawned on him that this might be the last year the two of you take the elevator up together, saying with certainty that you’d see each other later. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of the first time you’d met, the images mirroring perfectly. Perhaps it was how quickly you’d grown, nearly becoming an entirely different person in the span of four years.

Or perhaps it was all of the above, rolled into one huge fist that sucker punched him in the gut, because his eyes were definitely watering. He scaled them back, his hands clenched around the doorknob so tight he could start to feel the metal denting.

He turned to you, seeing the amusement turn into concern as he failed to conceal the emotions that bubbled under his skin. He felt cold and hollow, not for the first time, and probably not for the last. He breathed steadily, trying to push out all the air that was taking up space in his already expanding chest.

“Peter, are you okay?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe with eyes trained on him. Your empty hand swung by your side, which you then occupied by holding your book tightly at the spine. To Kill a Mockingbird was replaced with Hamlet, younger you replaced older you, and yet Peter felt like the same old boy, being so hopelessly in love, and yet, staying hopeless. He was starting to believe he was more in love with the cold feeling that ran down his spine every time he saw you with someone else.

His weightlessness wore off after a moment, coming back down to earth where you were. You knit your brows together like a worried friend, and Peter smiled, looking down as his heart cracked in two.

“It’s nothing, senior year just hit me like a train, that’s all.” That was a very apt way of wording it. You fiddled with the pages of your book, crossing and uncrossing your legs as you inevitably thought the same.

“I know what you mean. We’ve gotten—“

“So old,” Peter finished, making you smile, although Peter could detect the sadness in it. “You’re right.”

You stumbled back to your door, finally turning the lock and pushing open the door. Peter did the same, looking up as you did, your eyes a little shiny with something. Your eyes met, neither of you looking away just yet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You said, for the first time as a question. It was different and jarring, the pitched cadence throwing him off for a second.

Peter composed himself before shooting you a smile, something as genuine as it could be, albeit small. The ache in his chest didn’t subside, but he knew he had to live with it. He had for a very long time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#i wrote this all in one sitting starting two hours ago #i hate myself and my life #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #missed writing for this boy #also like wow??#i played myself?#i always do though

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typei101 · 6 years ago

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“What do you dream of becoming when you’re older?” “A shit writer.”

Ever since I was 4 and learnt how to write simple sentences talking about who I am and where things are placed in a room, I knew I wanted to write. Something about writing phrases on a piece of lined paper put me in such a mental state I was addicted to. You could say I was my biggest fan. I used to parade my work into the face of teachers and family to read it and look in awe on how such a young person could write so well, but eventually as the years went on my fire slowly died away.

Whenever someone asked me “What do you want to be when you’re older?” I suddenly didn’t know what to say. My go to answer of an author just seemed like wishful thinking. Rather than parading my work into the faces of others I would tell them long, emotive stories about my dreams of being a writer and how my heart aches to regain the strength to write again. It would garner sympathy and passionate responses from people, namely my brother, but at one point it made me feel sick because I knew that what I was saying and what I was doing were simply lies.

I didn’t want to lie anymore: at 12 I decided I wouldn’t be a coward and I wanted to write again. I went on to Wattpad, the only place I felt safe in writing in. It had an environment of people too interested in bland generic stories to read my incomprehensible work, and it was such a large but accessible platform I could write comfortably without being judged. But what did I do? I still felt like there were eyes watching my work and I. Every second I wasn’t at the laptop checking on incognito to see if others could read my work, I was paranoid that somewhere, somehow someone I knew would use this as blackmail. So as an indefinite preventative measure, I made sure that everything I wrote was satirical. Over-exaggerated romance pieces on people doing disgusting or just stupid things with each other, with the themes matching up to whatever I knew the mainstream, or my friends would be into. When I was done making my confusing piece, I would send the link like wildfire to everyone I knew, just like how I used to when I was younger. Instead however, I was awaiting the reaction of confusion and horror instead of a proud pat on the back and the awe I was used to get high off.

I enjoyed being the funny friend in my circle, not only because I enjoyed making people laugh, but it lowered the standards people had of me making me feel so safe. I always wanted to feel safe in the company of others, always wanted to avoid being under the eye of scrutiny that I so mercilessly did with others in my spare time. I projected my biggest fears of someone latching onto my work to tear it down by doing it myself, and it only degenerated my work further and further. It got to the point where no one wanted to read my stories anymore. The shock and horror died down after they knew to expect weird wacky shit. I didn’t get the same kick out of writing it anymore either. It had seemed that what fire disappeared when I was 4 had died again.

I stopped writing for fun but instead found joy writing for my English GCSE. Tearing apart other people’s work, positively when writing for my grade but negatively when another person’s work was shown for us to learn about. I remember arguing with my English teacher about one particular piece that I found to be so stupid in getting that high of a grade. They made such a simple error in seeing a character as one dimensional in nature, when they were obvious layers to her, and the fact that 90% of the essay was building off of this bold assumption, it was bold of the examiner to give it an A grade. In a way, I felt jealous. Every time I wanted to answer an exam question, I would put so much thought into it, it seemed. I would make sure everything made sense to me as I’d write it, but then build on it so much more when writing it. I would proudly show my friends and teacher, and then when it came down to my mock exams consistently get low grades. It seemed like I wasn’t meeting expectations again, one of my biggest fears. All the passion I had for examining texts seemed to die, and right around the corner of the final exam season too. It all culminated with me getting a B in my final exam, when I had been projected to get an A*, one of the most crushing moments of my life. I left the hall that day with my grade close to my chest in quiet anger. My parents were disappointed in the way that parents would be no matter what the grade except for the ultimate best. But I was disappointed in what had happened. I escaped criticism for so long by not writing seriously and valuing my old works so much, but it truly seemed like I wasn’t on the same page everyone else was. I wanted to find my footing again. I wanted to write.

I began writing in secret, the only it would seem I could now. If I wanted to get on the same page as everyone I thought I had to do it alone. No one would care enough to cradle me and teach me how to be good, and it wouldn’t be good for me anyway. What I needed was strength, not a bullet point list on how to be a good writer. So began my long journey on figuring out how to the act of writing. I didn’t want to simply express whatever frustrations I had in jumbled words anymore. I just wanted to know how to convey feelings, thoughts and emotions through text again. The easiest way to do that was to write about what was easiest, and given my situation the easiest thing to do was to rant. So I opened up a private Instagram account where I would post pictures with long captions detailing frustrations I had in life with questions attached to almost every one of them. I needed to feel lost and confused, but more importantly I needed to keep the confusion in a place I could access later so I could hopefully learn from my mistakes. Soon enough my best friend found my account and wanted to read it. Though I was reluctant at first I let it happen, and soon my account changed back into a satirical account where I shitpost and repeated memes over and over again. So I deleted it. But the soothing effect that ranting gave me had reverted back to tension. So I opened another account. I let my friend follow. I shut the account down again. Again. Again.

I gave up on Instagram and began writing it on Tumblr. My friend didn’t know, but one day I told my brother about it and he read it. My Tumblr account emptied out shortly afterwards. I wrote some amazing things back then but I will never be able to get them back now. Regrets caused from being afraid of someone else’s opinion. In the end, I decided that I couldn’t even let the closest people in my life read my work, my fear and anxiety was deep rooted so far that I could only trust myself, even if that was because I didn’t have a choice. I moved back to Instagram, a private account.

My posts were brief at first, the first caption reading “I know I’m going to need to rant soon so I’m keeping this account open”. And so I did. I’ve been using this account for almost a year now, and no one follows it and it is one of the best things I have done. After writing there so much I decided I would give the old pen and paper a try. I began writing emotional rants with pretenses like “INCOMING EDGY TEENAGER FEELS !!!11” and other self-deprecating and satirical comments laden throughout the texts, so it was a safe way I could let out my feelings without taking myself too seriously.

These multiple venting methods stayed open, and along that came over a story, one I’m not proud of. But I’m proud of it. And I showed someone, and they didn’t get it and I didn’t care. I wrote something. I finished something. It stemmed from a place of irony in that I was mocking the vagueness of edgy fanfic but though at first I saw it as a joke and shared it as a joke, I enjoyed it. I analysed my own work, as vain as that is. And it serves as the main reason as to why I want to write again (again again).

I finally realised today that I didn’t want to be someone who keeps ranting start and stop. I also realised my dreams of being an engineer stemmed from a place of anxiety because it was a safe option, and being an author isn’t. I still want to be an engineer, but I want to become a writer. A shitty writer. It’s better than being someone scared of other’s opinions, because at least the first title has “writer” in it. I’m here to make a fool of myself and I want to take pride in that.

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alertreadingquotes · 6 years ago

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I've Been Meaning To Tell You: A Letter to my Daughter, David Chariandy

"The Occasion"

"How did you know?", my mother and father both asked me when one day I wrote about their experiences. Their faces held surprise, even something like fear as if they had unintentionally leaked their secrets. But as you had reminded me over a slice of chocolate cake 10 years ago, children always sense more than what their parents are willing to say. Children read stories in pauses and silences, from irritation and sadness, from the grief and fear behind brave faces. And children sometimes choose silence. A child would not always readily tell, for instance, how growing up as a working class black boy in a white middle class suburb he comes to embody what is feared about a changing city and nation. He hesitates to convey his experiences because he wishes to be seen as tough - or - because it is the special nature of the hurt to feel shameful in reporting it, or perhaps a child will not discuss the mater with his parents because, tragically, he has come to believe it is not history but they who are to blame for the legacies of race.

"The Test"

I did, in the end, learn how to pronounce "thhh". Like others, I made a concerted effort to speak in a way - indistinguishable from other Canadians born here. Although I do understand of course, that many times it isn't my voice or what I say with it, but the louder silence of my body that suggests to others I'm from elsewhere. I do sometimes wonder if you, from a very different generation and upbringing than me, have had similar experiences. IF even now, a girl like you can be asked, "Where are you really from?" or that worse question, "What are you?".

"The Incident"

A good chunk of my energy and attention as a child was devoted to monitoring the physical presence of people around me, reading smiles for potentially wicked intentions, bracing when I heard about me, laughter. I'm sure there were moments when I misjudged people. When laughter was just laughter. When a smile wasn't a threat. I'm sure that some of the people who freely spoke that word were not always consciously malicious. I played with those who chanted "Eeny meeny miney mo, catch a nigger by the toe" to assign roles in a game of hide-and-seek, never realizing that long ago in a deeper way, I had already been determined "it".

I was invited to play along with my friends when they would imitate the jive talk and silly gestures of black comedians they saw on television and in movies. Not appreciating that these comedians were trying - at least at times - to reveal more complex and serious truths about the roles they were expected to perform, both on stage and in life and my friends would be disappointed, even puzzled, if I didn't enthusiastically join in. But the truth, dearest daughter, is that I sometimes did play along. I didn't want them to know when I was hurt. I was afraid that if others recognized my vulnerability, the racist insults and bullying would only intensify. Perhaps even at that young age, I had already learned to be "a man". To not admit to myself or others any stupid sensitivities. Perhaps I sought, like some of the comedians I watched, to play along in the dim hope of ultimately tricking up the role.

A practical consequence of all this was the deterioration of my relationship with school. I remember vividly the summer days leading up to my first year of high school. I was particularly excited about learning French, about entering the world of a whole new language. I got my hand on a library book of verb conjugations and began memorizing them in preparation for the first class of the year. But when I showed up, the teacher immediately read me as trouble and forced me to sit at the front of the class where she could - she warned - keep an eye on me. For days afterward, known to her or not, I was pelted with bits of pink eraser. With spit balls blown through empty pen tubes which would either bounce off my hair or get lost in what others saw as the "jungle tangles". The word "nigger" was whispered. Soon I demonstrated quite perfectly what my French teacher had suspected all along: my inability to focus effectively in the classroom, my willingness to disrupt the classroom with frustrated outbursts and jokeyness, my failure - eventually- to regularly attend class.

I'd never called any of them honkeys. Not because I was morally superior, but simply because I understood very clearly that coming from a black boy in an overwhelmingly white class in school, this word wouldn't stick or damage in any real way. However, for both the boys and the principal this nuance regarding power and language was very much beside the point. It was more important and psychologically convenient to reassure everyone that no form of racism would be tolerated. "You'd be in serious, serious trouble!" the boy rightly warned me, jutting his finger at me. There is an effect in being named, whether one is a "nigger" or a "paki", whether one is a "chink" or a "bitch", a "faggot" or "fat" or "trash" or any other number of words that are not equivalent, not exchangable but nevertheless even on the quiet of this page and in my effort now to be honest and protective, inevitably hurt and implicate. There is a toll upon the self. It was easy for me to believe that I was indeed trouble, or a joker. That I was untrustworthy in basic ways. A predator and a pervert despite my shyness. That I really wasn't cut out for school or for serious thought in general. I had little concept of a future and imagined that at some fundamental level, there was something unpleasant about me, an oily smell not entirely attributable to the strange foods my parents served but a secretion form my body, from my skin itself. At the same time, I understood very well that the hurtful people around me were never monsters of the Hollywood movie type.... I glimpsed their contradictions, their inner doubts and vulnerabilities, their brave curiosities and cowardly tribalisms, their sincere desire to be good and also their desire to be casually cruel. The truth is that before I could appreciate my own complex humanity, I was made to understand and appreciate theirs, which I saw confirmed over and over again on television, in films and in books.

I did want a life of my own in books. I wanted to read, and, mysteriously even scandalously, I wanted to write. Your grandmother would attest that a very early age perhaps 9 or 10 I secretly informed her I wanted to live alone in a log cabin in the woods and write. I can hear you laughing as you read this- knowing as you do that I never seek out experiences in nature, and hold no romantic notions about living even temporarily away form elecricity and hot running water. But I think, as a child, I had a fantasy about retreating from the heated language around me. From the words launched at me in hallways and streets, hissed at me from radios, televisions and newspapers in their coverage of people who looked like me. I wanted different terms for living in language and like any other child, I had discovered a particular- even peculiar- passion. Few around me considered my passion appropriate.

#canadian #ethnicity #racism #life #quotes #DavidChariandy #IveBEenMeaningToTellYou #books #blackness #feels

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random2908 · 6 years ago

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So, tomorrow--I guess today, now--is the 10th anniversary of my Grandma’s death. You know, I haven’t talked about her much on tumblr. I’ve mentioned her some, but for how important she was in my life, I mostly haven’t--

Looking through my tags, like half my posts are complaints that she doesn’t have a wikipedia page even though there are a few pages that have empty links with her name. I don’t know that I want to her to have one, though; it would make her not mine anymore, and I don’t want to see her belong to the world, paraded out for NPOV criticism. I don’t think she would have minded, though--she was a private person but she would have approved of NPOV criticism.

What do I say about her? It’s my blog, so I guess I say what she meant to me.

About a year ago, when my middle sister temporarily moved to NYC, my best friend invited her out to dinner; they were loosely friends, themselves, from both having lived in Singapore previously. My middle sister brought my little sister along, although she’d only met my best friend twice--way back when she was a kid--and didn’t know her. My best friend told me that most of the conversation at dinner took place between my two sisters. It was the two of them lamenting Grandma’s death nine years previous, and that they didn’t know her better. My little sister--who was 20 when Grandma died and nearly 30 when this conversation took place--lamented that Grandma had never seen her grow up, and wished she could have had an adult relationship with Grandma rather than just being a little kid in her eyes. No, she amended, she wished she could have grown up to be someone who Grandma would have respected and been proud of, and then had a real relationship with her. Impossible, my middle sister allegedly pointed out.

I once found a poem about her online, on some guy’s blog; he’d apparently taken classes from her in grad school. The poem was about how he’d seen a tiny old lady walking down the street who reminded him of her, and felt a moment of fear.

Grandma was both a good person and not a good person; both kind and unkind. My dad liked to say of her that stupid people thought she was nice. I countered that she was nice to me. But I was the exception, because I was her, but a child again. I was well aware that she was mean to everyone else. But she was absolutely polite, and some people can’t tell the difference between polite and nice, can’t hear the barbs when there’s no tone of voice to give a clue. She was verbally cruel to people who loved her and needed her, but she fully financially supported any of her offspring who were unemployed (she supported my cousin and his wife and kids for years) and she gave immense amounts of money to charity. Literally a fortune--millions of dollars, nearly everything she had. In one draft of her will, more money was going to Planned Parenthood alone than to all of her offspring combined. Everyone tells me I shouldn’t read into that, she just really cared about women’s health (having personally had a lot of medical issues relating to that). But it was Grandma. You’d be a fool not to read into everything she did.

(I hate when people do that to me. I hate when people read between the lines of everything I say and do, assume that because I’m me every word is carefully chosen, everything I say has layers of intent. It isn’t true. Not of me--not of me as an adult, anyway, although I can forgive the people who knew me in the worst parts of my teens for assuming it. But now, most of what I say is off-the-cuff, flippant, mostly meaningless, and no harm intended; if something I say seems hurtful, it’s nearly always careless and accidental tactlessness rather than artifice. It may have been true of her, though; everyone says it was. But if it’ isn’t true of me--how can I know what was and wasn’t true of her when she was 71 years older than me?)

I had a lot of personality in common with her as a kid. I was the best in my school in every academic subject (at least until I went to a magnet school for high school). I was ambitious to the point where my parents refused to send me to either of the competitive magnet high schools in our area. Whether they had in mind that I might be a danger to myself because I wouldn’t care about angering dangerous people for the sake of setting the curve in class, or whether they thought that I might be a danger to classmates who might have challenged me in an environment where violence and cheating lurked in the school culture just beneath the surface, I’m not sure; in any case, that’s what informed their decision to send me to the least competitive magnet high school. When I was 14, I once overheard my mom complain to a friend that she’d moved all the way out to California, far from her parents, but now they’d moved out here, and between Grandma and me she had generational stereo and basically got it all twice.

And why not? She was everything I aspired to be. She was a successful scientist who’d shattered glass ceilings--she’d finished a PhD at Harvard at age 22, decades before they officially started accepting women, and she was one of the founders of her subfield. She was respected by all. Everything that she said was intelligent and clever and multilayered. Why shouldn’t I want to be her? Who wouldn’t want to be her?

I have an aunt--my uncle’s girlfriend--who was scared of me when I was a kid. She’d heard the family rumors that I was Grandma all over again. And any reasonable person was scared of Grandma; her being in 8-year-old form was no less terrifying. My aunt was in her 50s when I was 8. I’ve changed her mind about me, though; she likes me now, as an adult.

My parents still think I’m Grandma. My siblings do, too, but then I point out that nearly any trait they can name that they think I got from her--other than ambition--I more likely got from our dad. (There’s a joke in there about people marrying their parents--my mom married her mother, I guess.) My dad thinks I have her cruelty. My mom just thinks I have her speech patterns, but my mom wouldn’t call anyone she cared about “cruel”--she’s too nice to say something like that. (No one knows how Grandma could possibly have given birth to and raised someone with my mom’s personality.)

The summer before she died, I called her up for her birthday. (It was the second to last time I ever talked to her.) With all her meds she was more than a little confused and had lost most of that filter that made stupid people think she was nice. She immediately launched into talking about my siblings and cousins. When she got to my little sister, and said of her that she’d grown up to be so pretty... I think she realized she’d gone too far, because she cut off and said, “But I’ve always been fond of you.” There it was, at the very end. I was the only one of her grandchildren that she really liked. At 25 years old, I was plenty old enough to know that didn’t reflect well on me.

She died three days before I turned 26, and nine months before I defended my thesis. I was so disappointed she didn’t live to see me get my PhD. I put her in the acknowledgements of my dissertation, of course. When I’d been getting ready to publish my first paper, she put days into reading it. She was a psychologist and I’m a physicist, but she put in the effort. Every day, for three days, she’d call me on the phone and tell me about the paragraphs she’d read so far, and we’d discuss what they meant, and she’d tell me what edits she thought I should make. For three days, reading my first paper was her life’s purpose. And you know, she read the whole thing, and understood it more or less, even though it was in a field that not only was several degrees removed from hers, but that had barely even existed when she was in grad school.

I was disappointed that she didn’t live to see me get my PhD, but I’d burned out and my career stalled out after that. I was always so relieved that she died just in time to never see me betray her like that.

In the end, I decided not to be her. Not to be the scientific success she was, perhaps, although I still have decades ahead of me there. But mainly not to be her. Not to sound like her. Not to say the mean things she’d say, not to evoke the fear she evoked. It’s hard work, and sometimes I feel like I’m rejecting my deep-down self in the process. But I’ve succeeded; maybe I’m not quite who I try to be but I’m not her anymore.

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cooltrainererika · 5 years ago

Text

Alt-talia x Evillious Chronicles: The Key to Zorn (Part 1 v. 2)

Sigh… there appears to have been a misunderstanding between the event holder and I. I just hope I hear back from them.

Just in case, this is an alternate version of “Key to Zorn”, which I resubmitted for the Free Day prompt, but could also be considered to be one for Fate/Coincidence or By your side. It’s platonic at this point. You may read either version, as the differences are mostly superficial, but I thought this version may be more fitting considering how I write Alt-Germany.

[Summary: Crossover with the Nemesis arc of the Evillious Chronicles. Everyone is searching for their very own Happy Ending... But where is his, if it exists at all?

Young Ludwig Beilshmidt lives alone in a cabin in the woods, waiting for the return of his mother. But one winter morning, a certain, seemingly chance encounter changes his life forever, leading his life to become increasingly entangled with much grander plans...]

(Yes, lame summary, but I didn’t know how to write it without spoilers. The same text as the original is copy-pasted below)

Couldn’t come up with a better title.

Okay… so… holy hell.

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. And it isn’t even finished.

This will be a movie, folks. Grab a seat and some popcorn.

So I wanted to enter Mirror Week, but in the main canons write in, Alt-talia and Hetalia Emblem, I haven’t come up with any use for 2Ps, and in the former case I can’t see how I could use them.

This is my Evillious Chronicles AU. Yes, an AU of an AU. What about that.

Also, credit to my friend @tomboyjessie13 , my Evillious consultant, for helping me through this!

I can’t let this be too long, since the fic is long already. Let’s go!

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(Also... people who read my fics, please reblog them. I work hard on them, and want many to see them!)

Also, a character named “Arendt” is briefly mentioned; this is Brandenburg. He isn’t really that important though, and really I’ve barely fleshed him out, so that’s all you need to know.

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The Key To Zorn

Part 1: And Then The Boy Went Mad

In a certain continent, there was a forest.

A serene, peaceful forest, where inside one could almost feel mystical energy in the clear, unpolluted air.

Until, under the evening sky, a gunshot sounded.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, a boy of merely 8 with innocent, cornflower blue eyes, ran through the forest he knew so well, a basket of wild berries and herbs in his arms and a small sack over his back.

Soon, in his view, among the trees and wild cornflowers was the only place he had known all his life, the little wooden cottage he called home.

The boy immediately checked his old, somewhat rusted mailbox, a look of anxiousness on his face - one which immediately turned to disappointment upon finding there was nothing there.

He sighed.

“Nothing today either...”

He reached up somewhat, twisting the doorknob and opening the wooden door.

“I’m home!”

No one answered back.

As per usual.

He didn’t expect one anyway.

He prepared dinner as he always did, the bubbling as the ingredients stewed the only sounds other than the cries of the wildlife outside.

And he ate in silence by the light of the lamp, staring at the empty, vacant other side of the table, the light of the sun dim and faint.

“Mutter, is it good?”

Nothing.

Ludwig sighed again, going back to shoving the stew into his mouth.

——-

Once again, it was quiet. All too quiet; except for the sounds of the forest.

He pulled his blankets up to his face, curling up, shaking like a leaf. He felt any moment, a beast could break through the walls and tear him to shreds.

She’s dead. She’s dead, accept it.

No, no she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. She had to be alive.

She was too strong to die.

She would come back. She always came back.

His mother wouldn’t want to see him like this anyway. He was being pathetic.

“Einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than this.

Imagining his mother was standing by his bed, staring at him with disapproval at his fearful behavior, finally his shivering started to lessen ever so slightly.

He needed to make it so that when she came home with another medal shining on her chest, she could come home to a son she could be proud of, after all.

“Good night.”

He said to no one in particular, as he let the faint moonlight be his comfort, finally closing his eyes.

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

Lu li la la lu li la la la…

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

———-

“FIRE!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Birds flew away in massive numbers, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Ludwig blew the steam off his pistol, seeing that the bullets had all landed near-target. Almost there.

Not bothered by the recoil anymore, he lined up the shot again, swearing he would get it right this time.

He took a deep breath and aimed again.

“FIRE!”

-----------------------

When he came home, he once again saw a basket of supplies.

He should be grateful. Though he wished someone would explain to him.

Oh well.

-----------------------------

Days passed, then months.

Once again, on the night of his 9th birthday, Ludwig laid alone, the weak moonlight unable to brighten his gradually deepening pit of despair.

The silence was maddening. He craved for any touch, for any warmth of another person, for anything. But even that simple wish was too much to ask.

He bunched up the worn blanket, the cold, frigid winter air seeping into the cabin.

Every day, he wondered if he was slowly going mad.

Holding a cornflower and his mother’s black cross necklace to his chest, looked out into the moon, to the night sky peeking from a clearing in the trees.

A star shot through the night sky, and Ludwig was quick to make his wish.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

She had always told him that believing in such things was foolish.

But what was the pain in hanging onto the little light he could find?

-------------------

Now’s your time.

Alright. I’m going in. See you.

------------------

One cold, chilling day, towards the final days of the year he turned 9, Ludwig stepped outside to check his mailbox again.

Snow lightly dusted the ground, softly landing on his old, worn coat.

But this day, after creaking the old thing open, he found something.

His heart almost stopped.

Immediately, he ripped the envelope often, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and he immediately glued his focus to the words, written specially to be understandable to a child.

Ludwig Beilshmidt, we are sorry to inform you that…

Time seemed to stop. He swore his heart stopped.

Dread shot through his body like lightning.

He read on, clinging onto the little hope that still remained with him all those years as they escaped from him, flying away as he fell deeper.

…

Tears fell from his face.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

Finally, suppressed despair replaced dread, filling every corner of his mind and body, every nerve, every muscle.

But mixed with it, and eventually almost overpowering it in the concoction of emotion, was wrath.

Pure, unbridled wrath.

He tore the paper and screamed, his screams piercing the serene forest air.

Tears fell from his eyes like a burst dam as he cried into his hands, cursing whoever had killed her, her fate, the cruelty of the gods.

He had always been told the best came to those who were patient.

He was proven wrong that day.

All those years, waiting, hoping, hoping for nothing.

Nothing.

His mother was never going to come back. Ever.

Grief, anger, and sadness gripped his small frame as he shook, on the ground, his young brain besieged with intense emotions and reality, dreaded, painful reality.

Don’t cry. How pathetic. Is that how I raised you?

Ludwig forced himself to take deep breaths, desperately fighting his tears and holding back the flow of the concoction of emotions any further.

No, his mother wouldn’t want to see him like this. He couldn’t let her be honored like this.

“Einz, zwei, drei, einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a breath with every word, forcing his emotions back and attempting to lock them away, until finally once again he could think somewhat coherently.

It was here he noticed something perched on the mailbox.

He looked up.

An eagle.

A stark-black eagle, its yellow talons sharp enough to pierce skin, its bright, intelligent, fierce eyes a rare violet.

He didn’t notice it before in his panic, but now the dominant emotion in his mind was confusion.

As he sniffled, the eagle cocked its head, staring at Ludwig.

“...An eagle?”

Ludwig’s mind immediately jumped back to the beginning of the year.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

“Are… are you from my Mutter?”

Silence.

Immediately, he embraced the eagle, causing it to screech loudly and flap its powerful wings in shock.

“It’s adorable! I love it Mutter! Thank you!”

The boy’s short arms wrapped around the first living thing it had embraced, nay, touched, in years.

He was actually holding something living. Oh, it had been so long. Oh so long.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold life in his arms, to feel its warmth, to feel its gentle rising and falling, to hear the subtle sounds of another’s breath in his ears.

For the first time in years, despite the unforgiving cold of the winter morning air, warmth reached Ludwig’s heart, happiness brewing with and overpowering now subdued despair and rage.

<Sure… Whatever makes you happy, kid.>

------------------------------------------

“Oy vey… I was too late again.

...This world is fucked.”

-------------------------------------

Ludwig put some meat in front of the raptor, which surely enough soon started picking it apart.

“It’s good right? What should I call you… I’ll have to give you a name.”

He stared at the eagle, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The eagle looked at him.

“You like it? Then Schwarzchen it is!”

<...I didn’t say anything. ’Blackie’? You cannot be serious.>

--------------------

That night was different from usual.

Ludwig pet the bird as it made a nest out of rags beside him, wishing it good night. It had seemed reluctant at first, clearly not used to such close contact but as Ludwig begged it to stay, as if it understood him, it decided to stay with him.

It’s fierce gaze felt protective in the silent darkness, as if his mother really had returned, watching for anything that could harm him.

Oh, he almost forgot something.

He took his mother’s necklace from his bedside table, putting it around the eagle’s neck.

“There. Perfect. It suits you.”

It squawked.

“Good night, Schwarzchen.”

That night, sleep came to Ludwig easier than usual, watched by the protective gaze of his new companion.

----------

“Hallo. Kid. Wake up.”

Ludwig awoke, his eyes fluttering open.

Once his eyes focused, he almost yelped in shock.

He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, some formless void; Schwarzchen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the walls of his cabin or even his forest, all that remained was his bed.

“H… hallo?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I… Who are you?”

The man smiled at him softly; despite his harsh features, it calmed some of Ludwig’s nerves, just a little.

“That isn’t important. But you’re lonely, right? And it’s causing you pain, yes?”

His voice was deep; much lower than Arendt’s, the only other reference he had for an adult man, surprising Ludwig a bit.

The boy nodded.

The man dug into one of his pockets, taking out a key.

“Here. I’ll be your friend; all you have to do is take the other end of this key, and you won’t feel any of that loneliness and pain any more…”

Tentatively, Ludwig took it.

Ludwig woke up.

The boy laid there, his eyes wide, his mind mulling over what he had just seen.

“A dream… it was a dream… Who was that man?”

He turned, and there Schwarzchen was.

“Never mind… Good morning, Schwarzchen.”

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He held his head; it seemed to be coming from within his head, like a thought, instead of from his ears.

“...Schwarzchen? Is that you?”

<Yes, this is the eagle. And I have a name.>

Ludwig took a few seconds to process the information.

“...What? ...Mein Gott, I’ve really gone crazy…”

“I know what it is. But it’s just like in the stories! Wow! I didn’t know they really happened!”

Ludwig sat up on the side of his bed.

“You keep insulting my naming sense. So what is your name?”

“Schwarzchen” looked him directly in the eyes.

<Well, well, it’s the same as yours, funnily enough. Ludwig.>

“We have the same name? What a coincidence.”

“Alright… Lutz it is. ...I liked ‘Schwarzchen’ though.”

<...Whatever, kid.>

---------------------------

Like that, Ludwig and Lutz became friends.

His 10th birthday had been the best birthday he had in years, even if it was just the two of them.

Over time, Lutz taught the boy how to use telepathy; and without him saying a word, he became a third hand to him, especially in hunting; more meats were amassed with every session, and fruits even from the highest trees were now accessible.

...Sometimes. Other times, the eagle merely preened itself, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all eagles were like this. But even then, he didn’t mind. Even if Lutz was a cold, snarky jerk sometimes, it didn’t matter.

Every day, they ate together, went hunting together, bathed together, and at the end of the day slept together.

He could almost forget his loneliness, and the fact that his mother would never return.

Almost.

——————

As Ludwig braced himself on his bed, he once again counted his breaths.

The wrath he felt that day; it was coming back. From within, it seemed to spread to his entire body, to the point it was unbearable.

He would never forget that pain. He couldn’t. But mindless rage was for the foolish.

He wouldn’t forget. But he would remember, silently.

When he looked to Lutz, Lutz didn’t seem afraid at all. He merely stared at him with those violet eyes.

Ludwig embraced Lutz, not letting go.

-----------------

Lutz stared at the young boy as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

It was easy.

A bit too easy.

What did he expect from a child though.

<Still, would have liked a bit more of a challenge.

Oh well. Sleep tight, kid.

...Though do I always have to be right next to you?>

--------------------

Over the next year, Ludwig grew. Now on the cusp of puberty, he became stronger, he could run faster and further, and he could shoot with more and more accuracy.

On the morning of his 11th birthday, Lutz presented him with a query.

<Kid.>

“Huh? What is it, Lutz?”

Ludwig froze.

<Don’t cry on me.>

“I wasn’t going to”

<Yes, yes. In anyway, since you know you mother isn’t coming home, what’s the point staying in this place anymore?>

The boy pondered it.

<I’m a bird and even I know it’s pointless waiting for someone if they’re clearly dead. Well maybe I’m not the one to talk here.>

He was right.

“But… This is all I have ever known.”

<Don’t worry about it. You’re smart. I think. You should find out what to do soon enough.>

————-

Ludwig opened his drawer.

There it was; the notice he had torn up all those years ago.

Why did he still have it?

Just so he would never forget, probably.

--------------

Ludwig looked behind his back one last time to the small cabin, the cornflowers, the trees he had known for his entire 11 years of living.

It felt so odd to know he would be away from it after so long

He quickly ran back, Lutz grumbling behind him, and picked a few flowers, pressing them between the pages of a book.

“Jawohl. Coming, coming!”

-----------

When Ludwig entered the capital, the little truly important belongings he had on his back, he was in awe.

Ludwig wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or disliked it, but most accurately he would describe it as a strange mix of the two; but more than anything, everything was so new.

He marveled at the sight of a trolley passing by, when he heard honking behind him.

“Get out of the way brat!”

Ludwig stepped back, hopping back to the sidewalk, and an automobile clunked on, its driver looking at him irritated.

But its movements fascinated him, how the machine seemed to move magically, how it seemed to have a life of its own.

“...Where should I even start?”

<Well? Do you have any relatives?>

“Not that I know of.”

Lutz looked to the right. His light of sight led to a small group of children.

“...Oh.”

Ludwig sighed. He may as well.

————-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

“No money? We aren’t a charity, sorry.”

“Outta the way!”

————-

Ludwig slept in an alley that night, huddled in his old blanket.

He was so tired. He just remembered he hadn’t slept for an entire day, and it was finally catching up to him.

“Lutz?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I needed money for everything?”

<Didn’t you read about it?>

“I didn’t know it was this necessary.”

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

“There’s so many people here. But I still feel so alone.”

“Jawohl… Good night.”

————

Until, Ludwig started to feel the air change.

It felt somewhat... sticky? The breeze seemed stronger. And inexplicably salty.

“Lutz... is this...”

This ocean was to her like the forest was to him, quite possibly.

Though according to Onkel Arendt, she would at times, despite this, just go to her childhood home, staring out into the eternal ocean.

He wondered what she had thought as her red eyes stared out into the distant horizon, the salty breeze flowing through her silver-white hair.

It was strange, imagining his mother like that. The sea was so free, almost careless; the complete opposite of her. But maybe that was exactly what drew her to it.

Even if life was hard, at least he had some way of entertaining himself when everything was so brand new.

--------------

One day, a duo of teenagers spotted Ludwig.

“Hey street rat, where’s your mutti?!”

Ludwig tried not to pay them any heed, even if he bristled at the rude words.

“...What business do you have with me?”

The shorter one grabbed him by the collar.

“I asked you a question, shorty!”

After the initial shock and fear, Ludwig felt a flash of anger. His fists clenched as he tried to struggle his way out. And worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything.

<Kid. Listen.>

“What?!”

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

Ludwig stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just witnessed, as the teenagers ran away, screaming “DEMON BIRD! DEMON BIRD!”

Lutz flew back and perched on his head, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened.

“How… how…”

<I’m a Very Amazing Bird, you could say.>

————

That was when, however, Lutz told him something vital.

<Hey. Have you ever considered asking the police if you have any relatives?>

Ludwig looked at the eagle perched on his arm, puzzled.

“What?”

Lutz pointed a wing at a building.

<There. It says “POLIZEI”. Can’t you read?>

“...Why? Won’t they throw me in jail or something?”

Lutz looked to see Ludwig’s dumbfounded face staring back at him.

“...Why didn’t you tell me that?!”

He took flight and landed on his head, preening himself.

Ludwig took a look around, and indeed there were some passerbys staring at him.

Ludwig loudly sighed, his palm on his face.

“...Fine. Thanks anyway.”

--------------------------

“Your name?”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

The officers looked at him for a few seconds.

“...As in Julia Beilshmidt? General Julia Beilshmidt?”

“Jawohl.”

They were in shock.

“...Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

“Erm… We apologize. Ja.”

“Do I have any relatives? I need some place to stay.”

“...Ja. We will search immediately. Please wait here. But it may take a while.”

————-

“Hallo? Is this the police? Why must you be calling?”

“Well, you see, sir… It appears that a relative of yours has suddenly shown up out of nowhere. ...He claims to be Beilshmidt’s son.”

“...Mein Gott. Julchen did say she had a son… I knew she wasn’t the type who should be able to take care of a child. I will be there as soon as I can.”

-------------

“I know, Lutz. Shut up.”

Lutz did something that resembled a yawn.

“He should be here soon-”

It was then that the door to the police station opened with just enough force to be noticeable without slamming.

Standing there was a dark brown-haired gentleman with a large, curly cowlick, probably in his thirties, most likely affluent from his clothing.

“Excuse me, I hear there was someone waiting for me here?”

Ludwig stood up, and their eyes met.

“Hallo. ...You are Ludwig?”

He adjusted his glasses, then his tie.

“Ja?”

He looked him over.

“Ah, I can see some of the resemblance. Though you’re actually somewhat adorable, unlike her.”

“...Is that an insult against her?”

Realizing his mistake, the man cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry.”

He outstretched his hand.

“I am Herr Roderich Edelmann. Your mother’s cousin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, but it is nice being able to see you with my own two eyes.”

Ludwig took the hand, shaking it.

“Ludwig Beilshmidt. Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Then, suddenly, Roderich’s formal facade dropped and he pulled the boy into a hug.

“You’re so precious! You may call me Onkel Roderich! Don’t worry, we will take great care of you!”

Lutz looked on in amusement as Ludwig’s cries of shock became muffled in the man’s chest.

But if there was one emotion he was certain about as the man smoothed his hair and cooed over him, it was that he felt loved.

————-

“But really… What is such a magnificent eagle doing with you? A black Strix no less?”

“Black Strix?”

“You don’t know? They’re an exceedingly rare species! And this one is such a beautiful dark coal hue; I’ve always been partial to Black Strixes, they’re said to have a particularly strong mystical power.”

“I didn’t know he could be more special... His name is Lutz.”

“...Lutz? As in…”

“Jawohl.”

Roderich looked puzzled.

“Erm… Mutter named him.”

Roderich huffed.

“Ah, Julchen, of course...”

“He was my last Sancbruma present from her before she died.”

Roderich quieted for a few seconds.

“Oh… I see. We will accommodate him too. Do not worry. ...Also, no need to ‘jawohl’ around me.”

“Jawo… ja.”

—————

Onkel Roderich was a renowned musician; he was a master of many instruments and even knew how to compose, but his main forte was the piano. He was sought after for his talents across the land.

And he had the house to show it as well.

“Welcome to your new home, Ludwig.”

Ludwig took it all in; the house was already larger than average compared to others in town, and as a boy who had grown up in a small log cabin all his life, it seemed especially enormous.

A woman with long, light brown hair came up to them, looking from Roderich to Ludwig.

“Ah, Erzsébet! This is my nephew, Ludwig. He will be staying with us from now on.”

Roderich bent his knees so he was at Ludwig’s level.

“Ludwig, this is Erzsébet, my wife.”

“H… hallo. Nice to meet you, Tante Erzsébet.”

Ludwig outstretched his hand.

The woman merely eyed him for a few seconds.

“Hallo. I guess.”

She said, gruffly, with a distinctly foreign accent.

Roderich sighed.

“Erzsébet, why do you have to be like this?”

“Why do we have to take in this ratty-looking kid?”

Ludwig scowled.

“Hey!”

Roderich held Ludwig closer, glaring at her.

“Erzsébet! He’s a child! Have you no heart?!”

“Fine, fine.”

She shook his hand, roughly.

“But wow, an eagle! A Strix no less?! I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see one!”

Lutz merely yawned.

Ludwig couldn’t help but snicker as an unamused frown crept across Erzsébet’s face.

“...Whatever. Make yourself at home I guess.”

She walked off.

“Prepare the bath and extra room for the boy! Come on now!”

Roderich commanded, and soon after servants bowed and quickly ran upstairs in single file.

“Don’t mind my wife. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to hear from you. But she will warm up to you eventually. Though… you are in need of new clothes, aren’t you?”

He gave the boy a once-over, making Ludwig look down to his old, beaten-up and washed out child-sized military uniform.

“Sadly, we do not have any clothes your size as of now. I will have a servant hire the tailor immediately. Meanwhile I will order them to wash what you have now.”

<He’s awfully happy to see you, isn’t he?>

“Ja… he seems like a nice person.”

————

That might, Ludwig had the best dinner he had ever had.

He could only marvel at the dishes in front of him; even those he had heard of before looked so refined. And there was so much of it! The variety of bread available in particular was amazing.

But he couldn’t let himself forget his discipline. Even if it took all his willpower not to start gorging himself on everything like he had been possessed by some demon of gluttony.

“Onkel, what is this?”

“A chocolate torte, you see. A type of cake.”

...And Lutz seemed unusually interested in it.

He couldn’t blame him though, it’s aroma was mesmerizing to Ludwig’s senses.

“Chocolate? Is that what the brown is?”

“You have never had chocolate before?! Mein Gott, Julchen, What have you done?”

Ludwig was quick to take a bite, and he froze.

“...Ludwig?”

“...It’s amazing.”

Roderich seemed somewhat amused by how floored the boy was.

“Even your mother was quite a fan.”

<Hey, hey. Kid.>

Ludwig was surprised by the unusual agitation in Lutz’s thoughts. He didn’t think he had ever heard anything like it before.

“Lutz? What is-“

Ludwig almost panicked, giving a piece to the impatient eagle.

“Ludwig!”

“I… erm… It was unfair to have it to myself!”

“...Is chocolate even safe for eagles?”

Erzsébet questioned.

“Wait wha-“

<Don’t worry. ... Ahh, bliss...>

Ludwig smiled nervously.

“He’ll be fine.”

The couple just stared, confused.

“Erm…”

“Trust me! I know him well. ...Can I have more? Please?”

“Absolutely.”

His face absolutely lit up at that, and in the corner of his vision Ludwig saw quite possibly the most genuine expression of joy he had seen from Lutz in all the time he knew him.

“Why’s it that everyone in your family loves chocolate so much?”

Erzsébet asked as her husband took another piece.

“Why don’t you is the better question.”

“...Actually, yup, you two definitely are related. Leave some for me though!”

————

Roderich doted on the boy; he made sure he had the nicest clothes and the nicest food that he could afford.

He had made sure the room was in absolute best condition, that his pillows were always fluffed and bed always made, even if Ludwig insisted he wanted to do it on his own.

His next Sanctbruma and 12th birthday were the most extravagant he had ever had.

Yet…

Yet something was missing.

Despite the man’s kindness, he felt something wasn’t right. Ludwig couldn’t put a finger on what, and he felt awful about it to be sure; he did so much for him, what more could a boy ask for?

But yet…

Sure, Erzsébet never completely warmed up to him; even if she wasn’t as cold to him, according to Lutz she was merely tolerating him. And the same was true for many of the servants.

Finally, he actually had someone who resembled a parent after all those years. He should have been thankful.

But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Someone had to be doing something wrong.

At times, he still lay awake at night, those lonely days and nights and that fateful Sanctbruma playing back in his mind; as well as the accompanying emotions of pure hatred and wrath.

Once, Roderich has entered the room at an inopportune time to Ludwig curled up in his bed, seething, growling at him to leave him alone.

While he didn’t say anything about it at dinner, it was obvious he was disturbed by it.

“...Lutz. Why can’t I be happy? I still feel alone, but I don’t even know why.”

“At least I have you.”

<Whatever.>

———

“Ludwig.”

“Ja, Onkel Roderich?”

The man sighed.

“It has been over a year since you started living with us. What is it with your standoffish behavior? Is something wrong? I will listen to it.”

“...I just can’t, Onkel.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why.”

The man looked so disappointed.

“I try my best to make you happy, Ludwig. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to satisfy your needs.”

“Nein. It isn’t that.”

Roderich shook his head.

“As I was saying… the chords for this piece are…”

—————

After all, he had to keep himself in shape, especially as he now had access to all the candy and chocolate that could be plausibly afforded.

There was another episode that irked Ludwig.

One night, as he went to get a glass of water, he had seen Roderich, seemingly sneaking away from his room.

“...Onkel?”

The man bristled as soon as he turned on the lights.

“Erm… Ludwig, I didn’t expect you to be awake..

Then, Ludwig saw it.

In his hands was his mother’s necklace.

“...What are you doing with Mutter’s necklace?”

He immediately stuffed it inside his pocket and turned around, a fake smile on his face.

“What necklace, my dear Ludwig?”

“I know you’re hiding it.”

The man sighed, taking it back out again.

“I… I wanted to put it in a place it will be safer in.”

Ludwig tried not to grill him further, even as he felt something fueled by doubt start to boil within him.

“I’m sure it will be safe with me. It’s been so for all the years I’ve had it. Can I have it back now?”

“...Ja.”

Ludwig swiftly took it back, going down to get his glass. He really needed one.

“You could tell a servant to get it for you?”

“No. I prefer to do it on my own.”

When Ludwig had returned to his room, he had quite the things to say to Lutz.

“Lutz. Why did you let him take it?”

“It’s from Mutter. You should know. ...Lutz. If anything, protect this with your life.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

——————

One day, as Ludwig overheard some servants speaking to each other in hushed voices, glancing at him every so often.

He was able to catch two things; “...Mister Edelmann” and “barren”.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But for whatever reason he didn’t like the sound of it.

Lutz thought, as Ludwig tried to sleep. Lutz, meanwhile, had no trouble.

————

13-year-old Ludwig stood outside of the bar, alongside Lutz, as always, and other members of his gang.

It was in a seedy, rough part of town. And it was where their rival gang frequented most often.

It wasn’t the most well-to-do of bars, to say the least; as soon as they entered, the air smelt pungently of alcohol, and ambiently of various nasties.

<Ergh. What a dump.>

They immediately saw their target; the offending gang’s leader.

Their leader went up to confront her rival, fists clearly ready to fly.

“Hey! We know ya killed him!”

“Who?”

The rival boss said, with a cheeky grin.

“Ya know who!”

The two continued to escalate their argument, until they became close to blows.

“Enough yammerin’! Get ‘em, boys n’ girls!”

Suddenly, they were grabbed by the rival gang bangers, including Ludwig, who held back a yelp, Lutz flying into the air.

“Come back, ya stupid bird!”

“We didn’t kill one of yer ratpack, asshole! Now get out or we’re gonna force ya out!”

“...You better tell us.”

Ludwig said, tersely, utilizing his now lowering voice and copying his mother’s tone.

The rival boss laughed.

“Or what, kid? What are ya gonna do, huh? Man your recruiting standards have gone down!”

His boss smirked.

“Ya better listen to the kid.”

“Or what?”

They laughed uproariously.

“Lutz. Restrain.”

Their laughing instantly stopped, their faces going sheet white, all the other bar patrons, the bartender, and staff turning to gawk.

For they bore witness to the gang boss being pinned down, on the floor, between the talons of a giant, terrifying raptor straight out of hell, its eyes glowing, its beak as sharp as an ice pick, with which it screeched in the unfortunate gangster’s terrified face.

Show your enemy no mercy.

Once again, he thought he heard his mother's voice in his ear.

“Tell us the truth.”

The rival boss sputtered, shaking like a leaf, looking awfully smaller than the much younger boy.

“We… we… d-d-di…”

Ludwig cocked his pistol.

“Speak in a real language!”

The rival boss flinched, and the rest of the rival gang huddled, terrified.

“W-we didn’t do anything! I-I swear! I swear!”

Ludwig lowered his pistol slightly.

“...Really?”

“J-ja! I swear! I swear by both the Heavenly and Hellish Yards! P-p-please let me go, Sir!”

“...Alright. Lutz, release.”

The eagle shrank back down to size, returning to his perch on Ludwig’s outstretched arm.

His boss grumbled.

“Whoop. That was pointless. Lud, let’s get outta this dump.”

They turned to leave, the other people in the bar still staring at them.

“W-Wait.”

Ludwig and his boss turned back to the humiliated rival boss.

“We might’ve not killed ‘im. But I-I have a good idea who might’ve.”

———-

“So, Lud. Good job today. We’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“Jawohl.”

Their boss patted Ludwig on the head and gave the group a once-over.

“Ok. You’re all dismissed.”

Ludwig was quick to leave, the others staring after him.

“What’s it with him? I swear, it’s like he doesn’t wanna be associated with us.”

“He said something about a curfew.”

“Really? Kid still follows curfews? What is he, 10?”

-----------------

When Ludwig came back, Roderich was waiting for him.

“Ludwig.”

“Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich’s expression was serious and stern.

“...What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean, Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich held Ludwig’s shoulders.

“Let me state this plainly.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’re involved in gang activity, aren’t you?”

Ludwig was in shock.

“How…”

Roderich shook his head, his hand on his forehead.

“Ludwig. I am sure even Julchen taught you to obey rules.”

“I… I don’t want to depend on you for everything. I feel like a leech.”

Roderich was shocked.

“You’re only 13, Ludwig! It is alright! It isn’t worth putting yourself at risk like this!”

“I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Roderich shook his head.

“Don’t say that. You could deliver newspapers, or use those piano skills I taught you-“

“And they’re my friends.”

“Friends?! I care for you, why do you need them?! Do you even know any of their names?!”

“...”

“You’re going to get into trouble eventually, young man.”

“I… I know!”

Roderich flinched.

Ludwig looked down and stormed back into the house, into his room, throwing himself onto his bed.