This is kind of a cross between the above prompt and another from part 14, which asks to base a story on the nations where their relationships have nothing to do with their cannon relationships (just to see how they get along based on personality alone). Eirik is Iceland and Nils is Norway - those seem to be among the most common fandom names so I just went with it. And we’re just gonna say that the drinking age in this pretend city is 18, or maybe the younger kids all have fakes. This will probably trace the next year in their lives - or at least the school year. Oh! And multiple fills are gold! I wanna see what you guys come up with. Do eet!
---
AUGUST
---
An extremely drunk guy with glasses and one of those annoying mustache finger tattoos hit the bar beside Natalia with a loud thud. “You...yuh...y’are smokin’ girl.”
She had to cut off Eirik’s rant about how he wished he could’ve been alive to take part in some avant-garde performance troupe (Elbow something?) to send a scathing glare the intruder’s way. All she got was a rather lopsided, but still blinding, smile and a proffered hand. “M’name’s Alfrrred,” the blond smiled. “Wussyurs?”
God, how annoying. He might’ve been cute sober. And with better glasses. And without those dumb skate shoes. And without that fucking dumbass tattoo.
She scowled, flipped her hair behind her back, observed her nails - a nice color of Jade green, today - and then sent a look that idiot’s way that had made better men cry.
---
God this babe was hot....so hot. There were probably no hotter babes...in...yeah. Uh, in...well none nearby, definitely. Yeah she was hot. And he was cool! Yeah...hot babes...go with cool dudes, yeah? That made sense...maybe...
Oh yeah, she was looking right at him. She was kinda scary like that...but still really hot. Charm it up, Alfred! Let her know you’re a cool dude! Hot and cold, ya know? They gotta go together!
“Baabe, you didn’t...d’n’t tell me yer name....but stilllll...I will totes buy ya a PBR. You arrre, like, so hot. Hotterrr than...th’n Alexa Chung, or somethin’. ‘n that girl is...she...she’s’ot.”
“How cliché,” was murmured by that - that really blonde dude - like, uh.... Dude that dude is really blond.
“Duuude,” Alfred slurred out, “y’r hair - you..are..rrreally blond. Your hair’s like....your hair’s like white. S’white blond. S’like an albino? M’roommate’s’n albino.”
“Charming,” the hot girl said, “now go away, hipster scum.”
“Heeeey, ‘m not’a hip...hipsterrr!”
The blond dude was making some noise, and some lipstick girl by him was laughing maybe...Alfred should probably be offended by that noise...but the hot girl! He’s gotta let her know...he’s not...er. Wait. Let her know how cool he was? There seemed to be something he was forgetting.
“I don’t care,” dream girl announced. “Go away.”
God, she was gorgeous. Alfred took the time to observe her cute flowered romper, cable-knit cardigan, and gross grandma flats as his face sank its way closer to the bar’s counter.
“D’ya ride a’bike? Betcha’d...ya’d look rrrreal cute on a bike...”
“Go away before I punch you in the face. Or get the bartender.”
Alfred decided that the hot girl was ignoring him now...or...she was talking to really blond guy and giggle-lipstick girl again... Gotta let her know he’s cool.
“I skate ya know...n...do otherrr cool stuff...ya like movies? Orrr music....yeah...m’friend...I think I toldya ‘bout th’ roommate....we’reinna band. Kinda like the Black Lipsss...but...with like...some kraut...krautrock, yeah. Should see us.”
Yeah, she was looking at him again! Kinda...uh...murderously.... Oh shi-
---
“Hey, bartender?”
“S’Berwald. Told ya a dozen times.”
A flat look. Berwald shifted a flannel-clad shoulder in a suggestion of a shrug, and looked unimpressed behind his plastic frames. For some reason, Eirik and Bella were cowering.
“That kid,” Natalia pointed to the guy KO’d on the floor, “needs to leave.”
“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
Roderich listened to his boss recommend a few dresses for the girl in the dressing room, and sat at the cashier’s desk, tapping his fingers to some half-remembered song.
He was bored. All of the new clothes had been unpacked and brought to the front of the store, he’d cleaned, there wasn’t anything to do until a new customer came in. Or Nils came in and he got off of work for the day.
Though he still had a tutoring session later - and was tonight that performance? He should check his calendar. He whipped out his phone to see, and then the door chimed.
“Hello,” he called from the back of the small space. Sound carried pretty well, what with the hardwood floors and minimal interior. He walked up to the front to greet the young woman who had come in. “Welcome to Ombre, have you been in? I’m Roderich.”
She seemed taken aback by his presence and he sighed internally. He was better at addressing men’s clothing needs; the women always seemed skittish around him.
“I’m actually here to see Francis?” she squeaked. “I think he said he was the owner?”
“Ah, er, yes,” Roderich replied. “He’s helping someone out now, but -”
“Hello dear,” Francis pranced over and into the conversation, “were you the one who was looking for the Alexander Wang last week?” Before she could do more than nod, Francis grabbed her by the arm and whisked her to the women’s side of the store, going on about the pieces he’d bought at the fall trunk shows this year, and there was some new A.P.C. and Vena Cava in...
Half an hour later the shop was empty but for the two of them. Roderich sighed. “I don’t get it. Women come into the shop and go straight to you. Women meet us at a gallery opening and go straight to you. You come to my performances and women go straight to you.”
Francis gave a light laugh. “You need something more distinguishing when you’re with the likes of me,” he winked at Roderich, who was so used to it by now it didn’t register. “You dress nicely, of course - I wouldn’t let you work here if you didn’t - that vest looks fantastic, by the way, navy suits you - but...you do lack a little...something, in your appearance...” Here Francis leaned back and scrutinized him like a painting he was trying to understand while Roderich tried not to fidget under his gaze.
“You should get glasses!” Francis exclaimed at last, clapping his hands.
“Glasses? But I don’t need glasses,” Roderich frowned.
“Ah, they would look so good on you, come here, let us find you some,” and Roderich was whisked to the computer to find some exemplary glasses online.
The door chimed and they both looked up, only to find Nils coming in for his shift.
“Nils, beautiful, come here and help Roderich and I pick out a pair of glasses. Don’t you think he would look fantastic with glasses?”
Nils shrugged. Francis draped himself over the smaller man’s shoulders. “You cannot say you have no opinion - I know you know style. Look at this,” he picked at Nils’ shirt, “it’s a simple t-shirt with some straps, but you carry it so well. And it matches the straps and buckles on your boots,” here his hand ran down Nils’ upper arm, “so...what do you think?” what breathed against the man’s ear.
Nils looked to Roderich and mumbled a “nothing too bulky.”
Francis sighed. “It’s like hitting on a brick wall,” he deadpanned over toward Roderich.
---
This was it. Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. His dream girl, the girl he’d had a crush on for two years now, the girl who had started the University’s community gardens, and the Vegan and Vegetarian alliance, and the campaign for bike lanes on campus, and, and - Oh, God, everything about her was perfect - except she had only noticed him a grand total of two times. Once was when they were on a hike with the University’s Environmental Club and she’d asked him for water (he kept the canteen in his desk drawer, still unwashed), and the other was when she had almost run into him on her fixed gear.
He stood by the entrance to the fair-trade coffeeshop she worked at and admired her from the door. No one seemed to notice him, but he was used to that by now. When he was working in the local bike shop, no one really seemed to know he was there until he was right in front of them.
So February’s ~2/3 of the way done, but I’m kinda busy this weekend and I’m updating this other fill so here are some sketches to tide y’all over!
Also: YOU GUYS ROCK SO HARD <3<3<3<3 /HEARTSPAM I wish I could reply to everyone but there’s that whole “taking up comment space” issue so just lemme say THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME :D
Also also: To the anon who wanted to see the fem versions of characters - workin’ on it! Fem!Romano’s about halfway done - anyone in particular you want to see? Fem!Netherlands is up in the Halloween sketch dump btw.
Nils being Nils: http://i53.tinypic.com/120pcwn.jpg Imagine he’s wearing shades of black, gray, and charcoal.
Feliks on NYE: http://i53.tinypic.com/2vrspco.jpg I sorta forgot his bag of vodka and cranberry juice. Whoops.
Sadiq and his crazy attire/piercings: http://i56.tinypic.com/2aaljbb.jpg It’s kind of impossible to find official art of his face. So, er, whatever.
Roderich lookin’ cute: http://i52.tinypic.com/uwsh3.jpg I drew him in a tiny corner of my sketchbook which sucks because I really want to draw his shoes. They are classy. Black pointed-toe oxfords, yo.
BERWALD: http://i54.tinypic.com/3477m9j.jpg Guess who shaves. *drools* Ugh Sweden is so sexy.
BTW: Look at this Fucking Hipster is a funny blog of dumb hipster pictures, and where the title comes from. Should’ve put that up on the first post *facepalm* Let's hope I don't screw up the posting. Tina, 20, is genderswapped!Finland; Jens, 28, is Germania; Mathias , 25, is Denmark; Alonzo, 30 is Rome. Pretty much because that name rules.
---
SEPTEMBER
---
Alfred hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of hummus as he heard the phone pick up. “Hey Ludwig, you’re back in town right? The moped’s not workin’. Wanna help me fix it?”
His pal sighed over the phone, but Alfred could hear the smile in his reply. “And I assume I need to bring my metric toolkit over?”
“You got it bro!”
---
Alfred and Ludwig had grabbed some bottles of High Life and had set up camp on the meager back patio of Alfred’s apartment. Alfred fished around for his extra spark plug. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it this time - lucky I’ve got one of you industrial design fellas as a pal,” he winked over.
Ludwig blushed and shot a shy smile (well, more like a twitch of the lips) at Alfred.
Alfred just laughed. “On top of that, I’d never have gotten through Calc III without you and Feliks!”
Ludwig resisted the urge to play with the wrench in his hands. “It would help if you would actually do your homework without us making you,” he replied with a trace of irritation in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s so hard when there’s so much going on! I mean, between band practice, and going to shows - “
“-and trying to pick up girls at bars,” was grumbled under Ludwig’s breath.
“And - huh?”
Ludwig blushed again, caught. He took a swig of beer to cover it up and made a noncommittal noise.
“Well, anyway, you takin’ that Bauhaus course this fall? They only offer it every three years or something.”
“Mm, yes, there’s an industrial design component. Not to mention the movement had considerable impact on modern design and architecture. It would be foolish not to.”
“Plus it’s German, you’re a sucker for your heritage dude. So glad you’ve somehow managed to avoid meeting Gilbert - I mean, we’re BFF’s so don’t ask me how that works - you two would start up an Oktoberfest or - hey, you don’t think the fuel tank needs to be flushed, do you? Looks okay to me.”
Ludwig tried to simultaneously lean over Alfred and avoid touching him to look in. “Looks fine.” He handed the flashlight back to Alfred and had a mini-heart-attack when their hands brushed.
“Yeah thought so. Alrighty, mister spark plug, let’s see if you’re our problem.” He looked over to Ludwig and shot a megawatt grin. “Hey, you know Ludwig. We should totally team up for a project in that class! I can do the building stuff and you can do, you know, furniture design or the engineering or whatever - it’ll totally be like we are students in the middle one - “
“Dessau.”
“- yeah, that one - “
Alfred rambled on about how cool it would be to be students in 1920s Germany, and Ludwig took the time to appreciate the lean, strong lines of Alfred’s back as he stretched to reach the front of the engine.
Francis sat the new glasses on Roderich’s face. They both turned to the floor-length mirror appraisingly.
“You’re right,” Roderich hummed. “I do look better in glasses.”
“Of course - the navy gradient is a good choice. You wear so much navy.”
“Black is too dreary,” Roderich sighed. “But I’d still like to dress with class.”
“Navy is perfect, then,” Francis agreed. “Though you should lighten it up somewhat. A differently colored tie?”
“No,” Roderich snapped. “It looks sleek like this. Sophisticated.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up in what he hoped was an affected yet defiant look.
“Consider a pocket square then.”
The door chimed and a young woman with her blond hair twisted back in an elegantly disheveled french braid and bright green eyes walked in, meekly. Francis elbowed Roderich to take care of it.
He stepped lightly over with an introduction and asked if she was looking for something in particular.
“Uh, no, not exactly. I was just looking online at Yelp reviews, and they said that this store carried Acne?”
“We do,” Roderich said, “it’s over - “
“Oh no, I’m not exactly looking for Acne...I just thought that, you know, if you had a brand I liked then it would probably be worth checking out.”
Roderich cleared his throat and adjusted his watch a bit awkwardly. The girl looked up at him with those bright green eyes. She was pretty cute. He held out his hand. “I’m Roderich - feel free to look around, just call if you have need of me.”
She let out a dainty laugh and placed her small hand in his. He hoped his hand wasn’t sweaty, how unappealing. “Mine’s Lili.” She gave a small curtsey and skipped over to the women’s side.
“She’s a cute little thing, non?” was murmured just under Roderich’s ear.
He jumped and Francis’ jaw clacked shut against his shoulder. “Francis!” he hissed.
Francis rubbed his jaw, glared at Roderich, then sashayed over to the girl, calling out “Here, let me take those to the fitting room for you - I have to step out to run a small errand, so ask Roderich for any opinions, dear. He has a good eye for beauty.”
Roderich was going to strangle Francis, boss or not.
---
“What do you think of this one?” Lili emerged in a 50’s-esque black chiffon polka dot dress. It was both hot and utterly adorable - it nipped in to show off her tiny waist but draped loosely everywhere else.
Oh dear. Roderich cursed his body for reacting like a teenager’s. A teenager’s! The impropriety!
“I-It’s nice,” he stammered out. “But, ah, I think there’s another dress out here you would like, if you like this one. Should I fetch it for you?”
“Sure!”
He couldn’t decide if he was perverted or if this was how all decent salespeople felt. He did know that she would look wonderful in the dress he had in mind, though. Tasteful, feminine, a soft pink hue that would complement her lips and cheeks - she’d look ready to take to the orchestra. Or dancing. Or dancing with an orchestra. Now there was an idea.
---
Roderich didn’t need Francis sighing at him; he already knew he was a coward for not asking Lili to an orchestra/dance/anything at all. He just totally lost his nerve (and his voice) after seeing her in that dress. Oh, and here was Nils. Great, the two of them could both make fun of him.
Nils stopped in front of them and Francis and he had a silent war. Francis insisted that Nils was too quiet and that to remain employed he had to at least muster a greeting and a small bit of conversation. “Heya, trust funders,” Nils finally said.
Francis squawked, indignant, and Roderich tried not to laugh at the snarky kid. “A trust-funder, he says!” He turned to Roderich to share his outrage.
Nils smirked. “Are you denying it?”
“I will have you know,” Francis pointed menacingly to Nils, “that I make my own money now, if you couldn’t tell,” he gestured around the store. “That fund just sits there now! Though it is reassuring to have,” he muttered under his breath.
Roderich shrugged. Nils knew he worked part-time here and spent the rest of his time tutoring music students. “I don’t spend mine on anything but rent,” he pointed out.
“Because you spend all the money you make here on clothes,” Nils shot back. “But then you bring in Ramen for lunch. Gotta keep up appearances I guess.”
All I gotta say is - Nils, what a punk ass you are!
---
OCTOBER
---
Alfred blearily poured himself some coffee and collapsed into his chair at the breakfast table. Ten A.M. classes - fuck that. He stuck his face down into his coffee mug and stared at his roommates over the top, their words not really making it to his brain quite yet.
They ignored him for now. Man, but he loved these dudes. Didn’t try to talk to him before his first cup of coffee or get weirded out by his zombie stare or anything!
Near the end of his first cup he scrunched up his face and croaked out “whoa, you two both need haircuts.”
They stopped talking - well, more like Gilbert stopped talking - and looked at him. He cleared his throat. “Your hair is gettin’ really long, both of you, actually, but especially you, Nils,” he gestured his cup in Nils’ direction, ignoring the dangerous slosh of coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that long. S’weird - I mean, it looks okay, you know, it’s just...” he shrugged and got up to fetch another cup of coffee.
Nils grabbed a lock of his hair and examined it. “Francis hates it. Says I need layers or something. Told him I would get it cut in November.”
Alfred sat down, asking, “November?” At the same time Gilbert burst out with “Ah no way, you’re growing your hair out for Hallo-fuckin-ween too?!” He threw his boots up on the table and lit a cigarette; Nils’ “Get your goddamned nasty shoes off the table!” was drowned out by Alfred’s yelp of “OH GOD, HALLOWEEN!”
Nils raised an eyebrow. “You forgot, huh?”
“Yes! And it’s, like, the best holiday except maybe Christmas!” he paced around the kitchen. “Okay,” he pounded his fist into his hand, “all I’ve gotta do is brainstorm some awesome ideas during class today - do you guys have any?”
Nils shook his head. Gilbert just said he’d kill Alfred if he stole his idea.
“Okay, so, first! Ideas! That’s okay because I am full of ideas! Or, I will be. Second, I gotta start working on my costume with Ludwig, because that dude makes awesome costumes! We are such a cool team - I’ve got the amazing ideas and he makes it work,” he flashed a smile and a thumbs-up at the other two.
“Aay wait,” Gilbert waved, “is that your design pal? Didn’t you say he built stuff?”
Alfred nodded with a “yup!”
“And he can help with Halloween costumes?”
“Well, he’s helping me,” Alfred shrugged.
“Alright. I need to talk to the nerd,” Gilbert said.
“He’s not really a nerd, Gil, he’s actua-”
“Bullshit, what isn’t nerdy about industrial design? Just gimme his number.”
---
Elizabeta leaned against Arthur’s doorframe and peered into his room. It was ridiculously neat, surprising with the way he treated the rest of the space. “Arthur,” she called.
“Yeah?” He walked around from his “closet”, a metal bar suspended from the ceiling, while yanking on a clean shirt.
“The warehouse space is huge,” she tilted her head to it, “ever had a Halloween party here?”
“Not really,” he replied.
“Want to have a Halloween party?” she asked.
“Perhaps if you bribe me with some beer -”
“Deal! Wanna make some flyers at the zine shop today?”
Arthur snorted. “That’s wasteful. If we want a huge party, all I have to do is tell Francis. The whole town will know by tomorrow.”
“So you’ll do that?”
“Sure. Oh, and you should talk to those hermits you know if you want them to come. Gotta go to work, love,” and with that he hugged her and left.
---
Nils threw his zines up onto the counter and looked up at the familiar voice.
“Never seen you before in my life and now I’ve seen you twice in a month,” Arthur said as he looked over the purchases. Nils didn’t say anything: he’d seen the guy more than twice, but apparently he’d been too smashed to remember.
“Oh, this one,” Arthur pointed to Wildlifoodin, “is pretty good. I mean, I doubt I’ll ever be out in the country to put any of it to use. Stuck in the city, and here the hunter-gatherers are freegans.”
“Mm, most of the time. It’s easier than you think, especially with that Trader Joe’s near downtown. They toss out all sorts of good things.”
Nils raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Arthur nodded. “I’m going Wednesday, actually, if you want to come with. Just swing by my place around 9:30.”
“Okay,” Nils picked up his zines, placed them in his bag, and turned to go before Arthur’s voice stopped him.
“Oh yeah, The Scam is throwing a Halloween party, come by and bring your friends - tell ‘em all about it. Even that loud freak ‘o yours.”
“Oh God, Gilbert?” A blank look. “The pale one?”
“Yeah, that one. Seems like a proper hooligan.”
Nils snorted. “I don’t think he’s a proper anything - but I’ll let him know.”
---
“What a bummer - that total babe isn’t here,” Alfred whined.
“I don’t know why you thought she would be,” Feliks snapped.
“She was here when I met her! Oh, hey dude -” he gestured to Berwald, “another round?”
It was a pretty quiet night at the bar, all said. Berwald shoved some new shot glasses over the counter to them and resumed cleaning some glasses, listening in on the conversation.
“You know I don’t care about girls, anyway -”
“I still value your opinion!”
“- but I could tell you about her shoes or something,” Feliks finished. He called over to Berwald - “Hey, hot stuff - you know the girl he’s talkin’ about?”
Berwald blushed but assumed his beard hid it. “She’s b’n here,” he grunted.
“Well? C’mon,” Feliks gestured, “is she as, you know, ‘totally hot’ as Al says?”
Berwald looked at them a moment. He moved a shoulder in a shrug.
Feliks glared and tossed his hair back. “He’s not gonna deck you or something if you say she is,” he looked over to Alfred, who nodded.
“She’s...attract’ve,” he said.
Alfred shoved himself forward in his stool and nearly spilled his whiskey over the countertop. Berwald’s eye twitched behind his glasses. “She’s a total babe! Are you gay or something?!”
All three stayed motionless - Feliks and Berwald looked at each other and Alfred waited on a reply, tapping a rhythm with his leg against the stool.
“Seriously, Al, you have like, no gaydar,” Feliks finally broke the silence.
“Whoa, wait, you’re gay?!” Alfred shot to Berwald.
Berwald just tilted his head up in a sort-of nod.
“Huh,” Alfred mused. He sipped some of his shot. “Why don’t you two hook up, then?”
Feliks laughed; Berwald’s cheeks burned. “He’s, like, totally not my type - sorry man,” Feliks said to Berwald. “You’re too manly,” he sniffed.
Berwald shrugged and filled their glasses, saying “S’on the house.”
---
Gilbert threw himself down on the couch next to Alfred. “Yo, that Ludwig dude? Totally German! It’s almost as awesome as having Prussian ancestry, you know?!” He nudged Alfred in the ribs. Alfred continued to watch The Wire.
“Huh, well, we’re gonna have an Oktoberfest next week,” Gilbert finally said.
That tore Alfred from his zombie-stare at the television. “We have a show next week, Gil,” he said.
Gilbert laughed maniacally. “Hey, Al, I am more than able to handle two nights of drinking in a week, unlike some pussies,” he shoved Alfred and the guy fell over into the armrest.
“Hey! I’ve got school,” Alfred bit out. “And shouldn’t you be looking for jobs now or somethin’? Landscaping season is kind of over.”
“Oh yeah!” Gilbert yelled. “That kickass skateshop on Maple - they don’t have anyone for rollerblades, sucks to be them - so they hired me! Suck it, skateboarder!” He punctuated this by thrusting his hips up and doing that cross thing above his crotch. Alfred rolled his eyes, so Gilbert threw up some metal hand gestures and made a really gross face at Alfred, just to rub it in.
Prepare your brains. A large gathering of idiots get schwasted = a ton of dumb shit happens.
Also, there are music references out the wazoo here...so I posted the songs mentioned on mediafire, it should work, just remove the spaces: http://www. mediafire.com/ ?6cdlccq99bkki
New people are here! (Everyone who will ever be in this story is at this party...except Canada, who’s in France, and Sweden, who had to work.) Belgium is Bella, 19, and fem!Italy is Feli, 20. And then we have Rome’s posse. Taiwan is Cindy, 23, Seychelles is Michelle, 22, Vietnam is Mai, 26, Ukraine is Katya, 27, fem!Netherlands is Anja, 24, fem!Romano is Lavinia, 23. Got that? No? Well, it’s not too important.
---
Feliks shoved the door to The Scam open just as Ludwig awkwardly adjusted what he was carrying to knock, loudly calling out “Hello, bitches, we’re here to glam up your pad like the generous and fabulous souls we are!”
“Feliks! Are you with Ludwig?” Eliza called, her quick footsteps echoing in the empty space. She rounded the corner and they saw that she was dressed as an old-school pilot.
“Oh, goodness, do you two need help - “ she stopped and looked at Feliks again. “Is that a real fur coat, Feliks? And, wait, you aren’t just crossdressing for Halloween, are you? That seems unlike you.”
“Oh, please, it’s vintage. That’s like, recycling,” he waved.
“Feliks is Margot Tenenbaum,” Ludwig supplied from behind a giant speaker.
“Who’s that?” Eliza asked.
“C’mon girl, from the movie? The Royal Tenenbaums? No? Jeez, it wouldn’t hurt you to watch a movie once every two years, you know.”
“Um,” Ludwig’s strained voice sounded, “may I set these down someplace?”
---
Arthur stood underneath Ludwig by the ladder, watching the man expertly place and wire speakers around the room. He felt kind of useless, truthfully, just smoking and handing the guy a screwdriver every once in a while. He glanced over to Eliza and Feliks, putting up streamers and - when did they acquire a disco ball?
Ludwig moved down the ladder and was dragging it to another spot when Arthur realized what was off. “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of putting these up,” he replied. “But normally I don’t dress up for Halloween - Alfred forced me to this year. He wanted me to wear a full costume, but we compromised. It was actually his idea.”
Arthur just raised his eyebrow at this. Did he know this Alfred guy? Sounded familiar.
Ludwig blushed. “Ah...I’ll just go get it and show you. Feliks liked it.”
Arthur busied himself with dragging the ladder to the next spot, when he heard Ludwig cough behind him. He turned around and didn’t see anything immediately off - and then looked up. Somehow, floating above the man’s head, was - he snorted - “You -” he stifled his laughter - “y-you’re thinking Arby’s?”
Ludwig nodded and the red cardboard hat symbol bounced around accordingly; at this Arthur completely lost it and fell to the ground howling with laughter. It was soon joined by Eliza’s light laughter and comments on what a good idea it was.
Arthur picked himself up off the floor, still sporadically laughing, and looked up at a furiously blushing Ludwig. “What a fuckin’ fantastic costume!” he finally got out.
---
The Ambiguously Gay Duo and some Rockabillies no one seemed to know were hovering around the (spiked) punch bowl. Ludwig looked over at them and wondered if he should start playing music. Were there enough people here?
He was debating whether or not it would be more or less awkward to start playing music when Alfred, Gilbert, Antonio, and Nils entered with entirely too much beer and liquor for four people.
“Yo, Arthur, can we stash these somewhere safe?” Gilbert called, raising up a 24-pack with his only available hand. Arthur looked over Gilbert and Nils and said, in an approving voice, “you two look fucking horrendous. Did you dye your hair black, Gilbert?”
“It’s temporary! It should wash out soon. C’mon, I can’t be a white-haired Edward Scissorhands,” he waved his metal-clad hand around and Nils scooted out of the way.
“Is that actual metal?” Arthur asked, tapping the hand. “How did you manage that?”
“Ludwig! He’s fuckin’ amazing - just told him what I wanted and boom, sweet costume. The hand’s metal, but no sharp edges or anything - wouldn’t want to cut the hotties on the dancefloor,” he smirked. “The guy made Alfred’s Bender costume - that helmet? Metal. Should’ve had him help with your Black Knight getup,” he pointed to Arthur’s cardboard armor and grinned. “You gonna say “It’s only a flesh wound!” for me, babe?”
“Hey!” Feliks called. “I helped with your hair, Gilbert! And you would have been, like, totally screwed without Nils to help with the outfit.”
Nils nodded.
“This way,” Arthur said, and led Gilbert and Nils to a storage closet in the hallway. “So you’re a death metal guy?” He nodded to Nils’ painted face and torn leather getup.
“Per Yngve Ohlin - better known as Dead, from Mayhem,” Nils corrected.
“Under the jacket - he’s got fake blood smeared all over his arms,” Gilbert cut in. “The guy was so badass he slit his wrists and then composed the goddamn suicide note!”
Arthur stood back and whistled. “Well fuck me, you’re a dead ringer for ‘im. Okay, just throw your shit in here,” he gestured to the mostly-bare closet.
---
Antonio, wearing some kind of odd helmet and leather, came over to chat with Ludwig, and Alfred made a beeline to Elizabeta and began whining that he should DJ until more people came - and then Ludwig could take over, he promised.
“Ludwig, do you mind?” she called to him.
He smiled at Alfred. “No. I’ve got an iPod jack here, CD player here, and record player here,” he showed Alfred the setup, pointing out each item in turn. Alfred managed to shove his iPod onto the jack despite his gloved hands, and immediately began blasting “Drunk Girls” by LCD Soundsystem.
“Alfred!” Feliks snapped. “This is a total drunk song! It’s called Drunk Girls! You don’t play that, like, until that party’s actually swinging!”
“Nah dude, you gotta start things off with a bang!” Alfred laughed, the noise making a tinny echo in his helmet.
“You’re just impatient,” Feliks yelled over the music.
The main lights went off and Feliks’ party lights went on. “See,” Alfred pointed to Gilbert, who was jokingly grinding against Antonio on the ‘dance floor’ - “Gil and I start the party! Plus, I’ve got Dan Deacon and Outkast in the works, it’s cool. Go dance, man!”
Feliks shrugged, put his coat behind some speakers, and joined the tiny dance floor that had started with Gilbert and Antonio. Soon Elizabeta, an Amy Winehouse, some Rockabillies, and a pretty good Deadmau5 had joined in.
---
Meanwhile, Arthur and Nils were sitting on Arthur’s bed, flipping through various zines and drinking Arthur’s homebrew.
Nils didn’t realize he’d finished his bottle until Arthur shoved another into his hand and opened it for him. He laughed a bit, already tipsy. “Wow, didn’t realize I’d finished it. It’s really good,” he said.
“Thanks,” Arthur replied. “Wanted something that tasted good, didn’t have a piss-poor ABV, and didn’t cost an arm. Had to make it myself.”
“Oh? What’s the ABV?”
“Well, the recipe I used, could be anywhere from 8 to 12 percent.”
“Shit!” Nils exclaimed. “We drank a little at the house - I’m gonna be smashed before midnight!”
Arthur cuffed him and shouted “That’s the spirit!” Nils groaned.
--- Ludwig was taking over his post from a protesting Alfred when Alfred was distracted by the troupe that entered the room. “Whoa, they look fancy!” he pointed to Eirik, Natalia, and Bella, not actually realizing who they were. “All old-fashioned, ya know? Don’t girls dressed like that have, er, a name or something? What’re they called?”
“Flappers?”
“Ha! Yeah, man, Ludwig, how do you know everything?”
Two giggling figures soon followed the 20’s socialites - they were unmistakably Andy Warhol and Debbie Harry. A girl in a hat that made her look like a jellyfish appeared out of nowhere, then ran up and tackled both from behind in a massive hug. “Whoa!” Alfred exclaimed, “I need to see that hat!” and he took off.
One of the flappers came up to Ludwig, and it took him a minute to realize it was Natalia with her short brown bob. “I assume that is a wig?” he gestured to her hair.
Ahahaha oh God I said these would be getting shorter after Halloween, didn’t I. Whoops.
---
NOVEMBER
---
Kiku opened his eyes and saw Ivan asleep below him on the floor. Sunlight streamed across his face, illuminating an open mouth that was drooling on an improvised bear-head pillow, his body surrounded by a wide variety of abandoned food containers and controllers. Kiku snapped a quick picture with his phone...now, he should find the bathroom. Where was that, again? He padded down the hall and made to grab the door handle, but the door flew open right as he put his arm out. He was firstly assaulted by the smell of bile, stale beer, and sweat - he looked up to see a terrifying vision of bleary, bloodshot eyes surrounded by sooty paint and long, matted hair. All of this was underscored by a jagged frown made all the more menacing by a split and swollen lip.
They both stood stock-still for a moment, surprised, then Nils grumbled something inarticulate, shoved past Kiku, and vanished into a room further down the hall.
---
Pictures from the party had gone up on Neon Shark by the next night. Alfred and Gilbert were at Alfred’s computer, excitedly clicking through them and commenting.
“Hey, that’s you, Alfredo!” Gilbert said right into Alfred’s ear and pointed to the screen. It was a picture shot through the crowd of both Bender and the jellyfish, in the middle of a hilariously over-animated conversation. “You chumps look like you’re three-year-olds learning to dance,” Gilbert snarked, “or maybe just retarded.” Alfred shouted a “Hey!” and shoved him over, then clicked on, flipping through a set of people he didn’t know rather quickly.
He paused at a picture of Daft Punk grinding against one another on the dance floor and laughed - Gilbert elbowed him and growled that he didn’t want his eyes to be burned out from looking too long, and what, was he gay or something? Alfred continued scrolling.
“Whoa - stop! Look at how fuckin’ punk ass we all look!” Gilbert said at the first mosh pit photo that came up. The two talked about how cool they were, how cool moshing was, how cool the whole party was, and took their time going through the rest.
“Wow, dude,” Alfred leaned into the screen for a better look, “guess I was more drunk than I thought - when did so much blood get everywhere? Who got that injured? ‘Cuz, huh, Nils split his lip - and I think Arthur got smashed with a bottle -”
Gilbert cackled and crowed out “I swiped Nils’ fake blood from right under his painty nose! Tossed it around during “My Shadow” - got all you suckers covered and no one even noticed!”
“Sweet!” Alfred held out his arm they shared and knuckle-jarring fist bump. “We look scary,” he grinned.
“Hell yeah!” Gilbert agreed. “We are some goddamn awful, violent, terrifying motherfuckers!”
“We’ll cut you up!”
“We’ll eat your children!”
“We’ll rape your mothers!”
“We’ll rape your fathers!”
“We - ahahah fathers! Father-rapers*!” Alfred howled.
“Hey, our creepy-bear,” Gilbert pointed, smearing his finger on the screen. A dancing Ivan was plainly visible, looming above the crowd in his Radiohead bear costume.
“He should wear that thing all the time!” Alfred chirped. Gilbert snorted and reached over to click to the next photo with a hard punch of his fingers onto the mouse.
They both stopped for a second - Alfred opened his mouth first with a “Dude, score! What a babe!” before Gilbert yowled “The fuck? Why don’t I remember that?!”
“What?! How could you forget that?” Alfred gestured to the screen, where Gilbert and a very attractive steampunk girl were sucking each other’s faces off.
Gilbert looked like he had just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. Or pouring out all of his beer. Or had been told cigarettes were now $20 a pack. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he moaned.
“Do ya remember moshing - wait, you were just talkin’ about it. Okay, so, you moshed,” Alfred tapped his fingers on the desk. “Then I didn’t see you for a while - found ya outside when I was leavin’.”
“Yeah,” Gilbert frowned. “I moshed and messed all you losers up - and then...” a deeper frown “...it gets fuzzy...this is so lame, Alfredo. Next thing I remember I was outside on the street with that Xerxes guy, we were having this amazing epic blood battle!” he cackled. “Then...” another frown. “It’s goddamn fuzzy again - just flashes of things until I woke up today.”
“Bummer,” Alfred sighed and patted his pal’s back in sympathy. “At least you got some?”
---
Francis and Antonio were seated next to each other in a corner of a cafe they frequented fairly often. Their waitress came by and asked if they wanted the usual, and Francis felt a twinge in his chest at the expression that crossed Antonio’s face for a fleeting moment. They watched her go and sat in silence, pleasantries having been exchanged before she came by. Francis fiddled with his shirt cuff, trying not to look over and cursing that everything he tried to say died in his throat. Antonio beat out a rhythm with his fork on the tabletop and sang along to the music playing under his breath, seemingly oblivious to Francis’ plight.
“I...” Francis started. A latte was placed in front of him.
Antonio sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows, still humming the song.
Francis took a deep breath. Since when were these things so hard? “I didn’t think we were exclusive, dear,” he finally said, wearily.
Antonio tilted his head and looked at Francis with a bit of confusion, no longer humming, but not saying anything else either.
“Oh,” Francis inhaled. “...you have been, haven’t you?”
Still no verbal response - Antonio merely smiled while he moved in his seat a little, then shrugged and laughed.
How could he act so lighthearted? The silence was crushing; the air around them seemed to sink into Francis’ stomach, press against his lungs, paralyze his throat. A nervous “Do you want to be?” made it out into the space between them.
“Do you?” Antonio asked, genuinely curious.
More crushing silence. Francis let his gaze go unfocused and low, the grain of the table smearing into something resembling a child’s fingerpaint experiments in browns and blacks. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but Antonio’s sigh brought him out of his trance.
“Take some time to figure out what you want,” Antonio smiled, brushing a strand of Francis’ hair behind his ear. Francis’ gaze snapped to him, alarmed. “I’m not angry,” Antonio laughed.
“Then why-”
“You need time to think! You always do call yourself a philosopher,” Antonio tapped him on the temple teasingly. His gaze became serious. “Get back to me. You know how I feel.” He kissed Francis on the cheek and got up, whistling a tune Francis didn’t know as he went out the door.
Francis watched until he couldn’t see the ratty jacket he had always griped about so much any longer, then continued staring out the window, lost in thought. He brought his beverage to his lips, took a sip, and barely refrained from spitting it right back out.
He looked down at it, frowning.
It had gone cold.
---
“Do what he told you to,” Roderich shrugged from his place behind the desk.
Francis huffed and shifted his pose, leaning his hip further into the wood. “Yes, but you see, thinking about it is all that I have been doing.”
Roderich hummed. He didn’t know what else to say about it; he’d heard everything from Francis this morning at work, both of them putting off things that should have been done around the store. He did have a different question though. “What will you do about Nils?”
“Nils?”
“Yes, Nils,” Roderich retorted.
“Why, nothing,” Francis frowned. “I doubt he will mention it.”
Roderich just put his head in his hand and shook it, sighing. How did he ever become acquainted with these sorts of people?
---
Nils walked in, ramrod-straight, and looked between the two. “I assume I still work here.”
“Oh, please -” Francis flapped a hand, “You are in college, non? You know how these things go. You drink, do something silly, life goes on.” He shrugged. “Now, be a dear and start on the inventory in the back - I’m afraid we’re a bit behind, today.”
“Your hair looks much better with that cut, by the way!” he called to Nils’ back.
Ivan and Francis: http://i55.tinypic.com/2a6p9a0.jpg Ivaaaan <3<3<3<3<3 Also, drawing Francis’ pants was oddly fun.
Francis and Antonio: http://i56.tinypic.com/28br66a.jpg Oh God can you tell I’ve never drawn Spain? O.o I sure can.
Jens, Mathias, Anja: http://i54.tinypic.com/4uvr5y.jpg Anja is tall. Really, really tall. She could be a model, but if you told her that, she’d probably kick your ass.
Ludwig and Natalia: http://i53.tinypic.com/23kuav7.jpg I can’t decide if Ludwig is a fucking fox or utterly adorable. In case you forgot, that’s his normal attire. Lawl pompadour. And I think it’s pretty established that Natalia is a babe.
Arthur, Nils, Gilbert, Alfred: http://i56.tinypic.com/2dbsdo9.jpg There’s a game to play with this one. It’s called “find the dork”.
Went ahead and put up the November playlist because some of these essentially became theme songs for the scenes I wrote... Remove spaces for music! http://www.me diafire.com/?9gfl rgw5ck17i
First two scenes: Matt and Kim - Daylight
France and Spain get coffee - this was THE ONLY song I listened to while writing that scene: Life Without Buildings - Envoys
Eirik does performance art: Radiohead - Exit Music (For a Film) Kría Brekkan - Ravine Solush - oh God this song is so pretty The Boo Radleys - Upon 9th and Fairchild - Eirik sounds like this guy!
Nils and Kiku start hanging out: Braid - Killing a Camera - What a November song. Animal Collective - Did You See the Words - I also listened to this’un while writing the Machine Girl scene
MST3k Bro Night: Built to Spill - Carry the Zero
Machine Girl Night + Antonio and Franics come to an agreement: Nick Drake - Place to Be Belle and Sebastian - Belle and Sebastian on the Radio
Natalia and Eirik get sushi - wow, these are like their theme songs (well, for now - there will be Autolux’s “Asleep at the Trigger” later) Broken Social Scene - Swimmers Panda Bear - Song for Ariel
Hokay if anyone has any comments/suggestions/gripes on pairings, characters, my writing, whatever, SAY THEM NOW. We’re reaching the point of no return for some of these.
Or if you’re just reading, say hello. Moar comments = moar writing :D
---
DECEMBER
---
Kiku heard the phone line pick up followed by Ludwig’s matter-of-fact greeting. After a politely minimal amount of small talk, he got to the reason for his call. “Ludwig...I apologize for being so blunt, but I don’t think we should strive to take our relationship in a romantic direction any longer.”
“Ah - you don’t?”
“No...I was not feeling any “chemistry” between us, as they say. I am sorry.”
Ludwig nodded and realized Kiku couldn’t see him over the phone. “Oh, no then, continuing a romantic relationship would not be prudent,” he conceded. “I...”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t...I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”
“No, Ludwig. You did not,” Kiku reassured. “You’re a good person. Smart, capable, cultured - many admirable things. I simply think we work better as friends...” here he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
“Okay.”
“I...”
Ludwig waited; Kiku could hear him breathing softly, waiting for him to go on.
“I mostly realized it...ah...while spending time in the company of Nils,” he finally said, hoping Ludwig would understand what he meant.
“Oh.” Apparently so.
“Yes. I would like to date him - I do not mean to be callous, saying this, I just thought -”
“I would rather hear it from you,” Ludwig finished for him.
“Yes,” Kiku affirmed, relief that Ludwig understood pushing aside his annoyance at being interrupted.
“Well, good luck to both of you, then.”
“Thank you.”
---
“Ughhhhhh, Ludwiiiiiig, why do we hafta work now?” Alfred whined from the other side of the table.
“Finals are coming up,” he tersely replied, engrossed in his own problem - sketching out various designs for chairs, trying to find angles that worked. “And I am sure you are behind.”
Alfred pouted. “So?”
“Do you want to fail?” Ludwig frowned.
“Hey! I won’t fail! I mean, I might make a C or something - I’ll still pass!”
At this Ludwig nearly glared. “You are more than able to pass with an A. So start catching up, now. If you don’t, I will call Feliks.”
“Feliks!?!” Alfred squawked. “Noooo, please, don’t call him! He’s so mean - he gets all Mathematics Drill Commander crazy! You know he does! You guys tutored together - he does, he does, agree with me, Ludwig, you know he -”
“I know he does,” Ludwig sighed. “Which is why I threatened to get him here if you don’t. Start. Now.”
“You could just not bother at all,” Alfred groused, resuming work on a problem that had already taken up half the page. “I’d still pass.”
Ludwig glanced up at Alfred through his eyelashes. Not bother? He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to “not bother” with Alfred.
Alfred wasn’t ever serious - at first it annoyed Ludwig to no end, but he found that, well, maybe he was too serious, just like Feliks accused him of being. Alfred was so bright, and silly, and enthusiastic, and kind, and liked everyone...becoming friends with him had lightened up Ludwig quite a bit. Had lightened his whole life quite a bit. Most of the time, they balanced each other out. Sometimes, though, it was like this - Ludwig being frustrated that Alfred couldn’t be serious for just a little bit, at least.
“Hey, dude,” Alfred laughed, tossing a crumpled ball of paper into his head and interrupting his musings. “And you’re bothering me ‘bout not studying, Mr. Let’s-Just-Space-Out-for-Five-Minutes.”
---
The Nutcracker let out, and Roderich and Lily were slowly making their way down the front stairs of the theater. Roderich was unsure if he should hold her arm as they went, as it was the gentlemanly thing to do - but he looked at her stepping lightly down the stairs and lost his breath. She looked lovely in the golden lights around the entry - she had worn that pink dress -oh God, that dress - with gray wool tights and darker, suede, architectural heels. Her long, ruffled coat whipped around in the wind as she tried to button it up and keep hold of her lightweight scarf at the same time, while some blonde curls escaped from her loose updo and blew everywhere.
“Would you like to go to a café?” he asked, instead.
She looked up at him with a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Hot chocolate at the park?” She grabbed his arm and led him there without waiting on a response. There were Christmas lights strung along the branches above the paths, white and otherworldly, and he listened to her marvel over them and voiced his quiet thoughts.
They grabbed hot chocolate and a bench a bit away from the path, sheltered from the wind - him leaning forward and watching families, carolers, and revelers go by, her talking.
He also watched her, his legs crossed, elbow on one knee, as she talked about stars and hiking and how she used to sneak out to lay out on her trampoline as a kid in the winter because the stars were beautiful in the cold. They were better, brighter, more easily seen, in the small town she was from, too.
Roderich looked up through an opening in the swaying trees - he couldn’t really see anything except for the orange glow of the city and a few dulled dots scattered around. “I’ve never been hiking,” he murmured.
“You haven’t? We should go when summer comes around, then,” she smiled. “Then you could see real stars, not these,” she threw her hand up to the night sky.
Roderich blushed at the implication of staying all night, anywhere, with her.
---
Under the faded glow of the subway station’s entrance they hugged goodnight; he tried to pull away but she only let him go half a step before she tightened her arms around him, looking up.
“I had a great time,” she said, soft.
“Ah, yes, as did I.” They stood there awkwardly for a few more moments, her looking up to him. “So...” he started. “Will I see you again before Christmas?”
She pulled away and sighed, a wry smile on her face. “Probably not. I have finals, and then I’m going home for the holidays.”
“Oh. Well. Look at some stars for me?”
She laughed a little. “Yes, I will.”
---
“So let me get this straight,” Francis stated, hand on his hip, scrutinizing Roderich. “You dressed up. She dressed up. The two of you met, and went to the ballet, together. Then you went on a romantic stroll through the park - and when it was time for her to go, you didn’t even kiss her?!”
“Wh- well - ah, no?” Roderich replied, sinking into himself, sheepish.
“My darling, I love you dearly, but you are hopeless when it comes to love.”
“Ah - sorry?”
“Well, no use now,” Francis sighed. “Still - you must follow this up! Ask her to do something, this moment! Here, get out your phone,” he said, moving to snatch it from Roderich’s vest pocket.
“I can’t,” Roderich frowned and twisted, shooing Francis’ arm away. “Not until she’s back home from winter break.”
Francis gave Roderich a curious look. “She’s still living in the dorms? How old is she?”
Roderich looked to him, surprised. “...I...I don’t know. It never came up.”
---
It smelled like it was going to snow, Ludwig noted. He sighed, trudging to the front door of the college workshop and jerking it open in his frustration. He had a final tomorrow, but he really should be finishing up his chair - so here he was, ten o’clock on a night before a final, and it was probably about to snow.
Ludwig was unsurprised to see Natalia under her gloves and mask, welding two twisted swords into one another, surrounded by knives and blades of various lengths. She’d been working on her sculpture project off-and-on all week between her other finals. Now that it was almost finished, she had it hanging and he could see that it was a mobile. Knives, swords, and thin metal blades twisted and slid in and out of each other, spun around on their threads - in and out, around and around, it looked like a cross between a flitting school of fish in the sun, the heat of an ancient battle, and the lonely dance of the stars at night.
He wanted to comment, but she was too busy, so he resumed his project. When she finished she waved to him and he paused and sat beside her on the floor.
“It looks great,” she nodded to his chair.
“Oh,” he looked over to it, flustered. “Thank you. I was going to say the same about your mobile.”
She smiled.
“It’s late,” Ludwig stated, frowning. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
In my original outline, Feliks was supposed to be stuck in his hometown, but he managed to escape for you guys ;) Actually, come to think of it, this entire chapter is basically just blatant fanservice. I only had two plot points, and one of those is fairly minor. The only major plot point I had for this is at the very end. But, oh, is it ever major.
And I dunno if I just have weird friends or what, but the guys do this shit at parties all the time. And then the gay ones make out with girls. O.o
---
New Year’s Eve
---
Feliks paused outside the front door of the Hjortdonner house, shifting his bag of vodka and cranberry juice to reach for the handle. Gilbert’s voice, coming from the back porch, could be plainly heard. He listened more closely; that may have been Nils with him. Probably smoking, then. Feliks walked right in, heels muffled by the living room carpet. He took in the living room with one glance - Kiku and Ludwig were playing Sonic 2, and Alfred was prattling on to a half-bemused, half-intrigued Ivan about the differences in music between the one- and two-person settings.
Alfred jumped and turned, then shot up from the floor with a giant grin, saying “Hey, Ludwig and I worked hard on those!”
“Uh-huh,” Feliks nodded. It was clear who had done what - the haphazard streamers taped to walls and doorways were obviously Alfred’s doing, while the balloons and perfectly-placed banner screamed Ludwig. He’d probably used a level to put up the banner, Feliks snorted to himself. “This,” he loosely pointed around the room, settling his bag on his hip, “needs waaaay more glitter.”
“It’s your fault you weren’t here to decorate - oh yeah - you’re here! It’s awesome that you got to come back for New Year’s this year!”
Feliks grimaced. “If I had to spend one more New Year’s Eve with my family in that hick town, ohmygod, I would die.”
Alfred and Feliks made their way into the kitchen, chatting loudly about nothing of importance, in order to stash Feliks’ beverages. Ludwig poked his head in, said hello, and reminded Alfred that they were supposed to be choosing some records for the evening - Alfred bounded off.
Feliks was making his first drink of the evening, admittedly a little heavy on the vodka, when Nils and Gilbert walked in from the back porch. Nils raised an eyebrow and nodded at his getup, then quirked a lip and said “I like the shoulder things,” before continuing to the living room.
Gilbert just stared, a vaguely concerned look on his face. Feliks shifted his weight to one hip and raised both eyebrows. “What the fuck is this?” Gilbert finally demanded, scowling.
“Please, Gil, you’ve seen me in heels.”
“No, not those - the pajamas or whatever.”
“Pajamas?!” Feliks laughed and took a long drink. “You are such a failure at fashion. It’s a jumpsuit, duh.”
Gilbert frowned. “Yeah, well, it makes you look even more like a girl than you already do.”
“Psh, you’re into it,” Feliks waved, spilling his drink on the floor.
“What? No way! I know you’ve got a dick, unless you’re just stuffing those faggy hot pants of yours.”
“Which means you’ve, like, totally been looking at my crotch.”
“Hey, wait a sec - it’s kinda hard not to, since you leave it all...” Gilbert waved vaguely at Feliks’ lower half, “on display, or some shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know what? Nevermind. I’m way too cool to deal with this bullshit.” Gilbert reached to grab the vodka from Feliks’ hand, but Feliks snatched it away.
“Ohhhh, nuh-uh,” Feliks teased, and feeling the first effects of the alcohol himself, waved the bottle around while sing-songing “Not until you say you’ve toootally been checking me out.”
Gilbert scowled and crossed his arms, then finally tilted his head up and announced that he was gonna go out and buy his own liquor - which would be way better than fuckin’ gross vodka, by the way - and that Feliks could just shove that bottle up his ass.
Feliks’ wild laughter followed him out of the kitchen.
1) This chapter is absurdly long. Go get some popcorn or something.
2) Whooooa was not expecting such intense backlash against Alfred (although you guys going all mamma bear over Ludwig is so cute :D) so lemme just say - he’s rash, and he was drunk, and just needs to THINK before he does stuff; but his being cheery is his defense shield against the world. (Well, that and acting oblivious.) The more he’s backed into a corner emotionally, the more ridiculous he gets. So that he shut up when Ludwig asked him to is saying a lot.
3) DID I SAY I WAS EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE ALREADY? ‘CAUSE YEAH. Also, I really want to draw Natalia and kittens now.
4) I apologize for Ludwig - I gave him a line or two of architecture to talk about and he just ran away and started monologuing on me. Apparently he hates postmodern things far more than I thought he did. And then the person he was talking to got entertained by his ranting and started egging him on! The pretentiousness levels of this fill are over 9000 now thanks to you two!
---
JANUARY
---
“I dunno know why you’re so surprised. I told you he was, like, totally into you,” Feliks sighed at his friend’s thickheadedness.
Alfred shrugged. “Well, whatever, we’re all cool now - you know anyone he could date? I told him I’d ask ya.”
“Whoa, wait a sec,” Feliks started, raising an eyebrow at Alfred. “You want me to set Lud....” he trailed off, looking like he’d just been hit in the head with a heavy object. “Oh. My. God. Alfred, I am retarded.”
“What?! No you’re not - you’re on the honor roll or -”
“No,” Feliks snapped. “I mean I should’ve thought of this back in, like, the fall.”
“Wait - does that mean you know someone?!”
“Oh, I am on this, Al.”
“Aww c’mon, tell me!”
“Psh, no way. You can’t keep your big mouth shut, and I can’t have you totally blabbing my fabulous plan all over the place.”
---
“Alfredo, we need a drummer,” Gilbert announced over coffee in the living room.
Alfred looked over. “Why’s that?”
“Well, our band is awesome,” Gilbert began, “but it’d be even more kickass with a drummer. You’re good with all of that Ableton shit, and I am a guitar god, but we would sound even harsher with some drums.”
“Yeah, okay!” Alfred nodded. “But you’ve gotta find one - I’m kinda busy with school and all right now.”
“Eh, sure. I’ll ask Sadiq if he knows anyone.”
---
Natalia was at a basement house show when she spotted Nils making his way outside, presumably to smoke. She quietly left her friends and slipped out, throwing on her coat on the way - it had been below freezing for nearly three weeks now, and wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. She stepped out and there he was, leaning against the side of the building, smoking and watching it drift through the air and up to the cloudy sky.
“Hey,” she called. She said it quietly, but it seemed loud over the noise of cars on one of the larger streets nearby.
He looked over at her and nodded, then returned to smoking.
She walked up and stood beside him, only resuming her speech when he turned to her again. “I just wanted to apologize. For hitting you, I mean.”
“Um...” he started. He looked really surprised for a moment before his expression slid back into its usual nonchalance. “I was kind of a bastard. I remember thinking I deserved it right after you did it.”
“Yeah, you kind of did,” she smirked.
“Still. I had a valid point,” he sighed and rubbed a gloved hand through his hair before turning and looking up at the sky, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “We should try this again,” he finally said. “So. Tell me about yourself. I already know you like kickass music.”
“Hm,” she frowned and shivered, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Damn, but it was cold. “I go to the university. I’m a sculpture major, dance and business minor. I volunteer at the animal shelter once a week.”
“I go to the university too - mythology,” he nodded. It was quiet for a moment and they both stood there, frowning and shivering, before he added “You dance?” with a raised eyebrow. He tossed his finished cigarette to the side and tried to imagine this girl, cold as ice, unlocking her body long enough to dance. The image wouldn’t come.
1) If you needed popcorn last chapter, maybe get dinner for this one. I don’t understand how the hell it happened (my outline was so concise!), but I’ll probably have to post in two parts.
2) Warnings for smut (thanks Antonio and Francis), pretension (thanks Eirik and Francis), headdesk-inducing idiocy (thanks Gilbo!), math/physics nerding out (thanks Feliks and Ludwig), tooth-rotting fluff (thanks...a lot of you), overwhelming fabulousness (hay Feliks, darlin’), and ironic parties (thanks Alfred and Gilbert).
3) I’ve got a bunch of RL stuff comin’ up, and if these chapters continue to be this long, well, updates are gonna be slower. Sorry anons O.o On the other hand you’ll probably get more sketches between, because those things I just doodle on commutes or over breakfast.
4) And, er, where did my OP go? *shrug* Guess we’ll just party without ya, OP.
---
FEBRUARY
---
Lovinia picked up her phone and sighed. “What.”
“Hey so hot stuff. I was thinkin’. You make shit out of clay, right?” Gilbert drawled into the mouthpiece.
“They’re called pots,” Lovinia said, already nearing the end of her patience. She also made bowls, plates, vases - a lot of things - but such subtleties would be lost on this idiot. She didn’t even know why she had picked up the phone.
“Uh-huh. Howbout you teach me how to make some bitchin’ pots? Just you and me, we can get our hands dirty and -”
Click.
Huh. Gilbert looked at the phone and flipped it shut. He guessed she wasn’t into that couple-y activity shit either. Well hey, he was cool with that.
---
“So, I told him that I think Bella likes him, but he’s just so weird about girls,” Natalia frowned, sipping her drink. In what was becoming a weekly tradition, she’d come to Pint-Sized - a casual, intimate, aptly named bar on a side street in a hip part of town - with Ludwig after they were both done in the workshop at school. They’d talked shop and hobbies, and now had consumed a few drinks and were moving on to gossip.
Ludwig nodded. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”
“No,” she laughed. “Yet? You make it sound imperative that I get one. I’m only 19, I don’t need to settle down.”
“I don’t think that ‘settling down’ and ‘having a boyfriend’ are the same,” Ludwig frowned.
“Yeah,” she waved, “I know. But I’d rather focus on art and school right now. I don’t really want to devote my time to a serious relationship - I guess I wouldn’t mind a few flings though - you know?”
“No,” Ludwig shook his head, “I do not.”
“Hm, guess not,” she frowned. “You could stand to lighten up a little, Ludwig.”
“Actually, I have a lot,” he chuckled. At her look of disbelief he added “If you would have met me as a child, or even as a teenager, it is unlikely that you would’ve foreseen that I would turn out like I have.”
“Aw, now I want to see home videos of you as a kid,” she smirked. “But, back to relationships - are you and Berwald serious?”
“Ah...I...suppose,” Ludwig said, unsure, and took a drink. “We’re going out for Valentine’s Day - though on the Saturday after Valentine’s Day,” he frowned.
“Don’t look so upset about it!” Natalia laughed, and smacked his arm for good measure. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”
“Yes. It’s just...”
“It’s just what?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I don’t want it to be very romantic. Is that bad?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, smiling. “Why don’t you?”
“It would just be strange...” Ludwig trailed off, thinking of how to put it. “To do something like that with someone that I really don’t know too well, yet.”
“Don’t worry so much. I mean, I guess I can’t really say that, since I don’t know him - oh, Ludwig!” she cried, tapping the table a few times in her excitement, “Call and see if he’ll come tonight - I’d like to meet him!”
“I - well -” he didn’t see any harm - “okay.” He got out his phone and sighed when he saw that Alfred had changed the name to “BEARwald ;)” again. He really needed to put a password on it.
Berwald picked up with a pleased-sounding “’lo?”
“Um, hello. You...said I should invite you out to drink,” Ludwig said, the last part all in one breath. “And,” he continued, “I’m at Pint-Sized with my friend Natalia, if would would like to come and join us.”
Eirik was a flash of white in a chaotic snarl of silver.
More had been added to his cage - through it his movements appeared jerky, were unexpected - silver twists of branches, veining out and around and in. Silver wires, tearing and twirling. Silver cords, silver chains, silver scraps. Silver silver silver.
He jerked a chain around his waist, tightened himself to the wall a little more, made sure his delay pedal didn’t move, though it was duct-taped to the floor (silver) as a precaution. Some more tangled cord drawn up, across his chest, carefully through the heavy weight of Natalia’s sculpture, around his neck, held him down.
The dark ceiling above him was a mesh of interwoven strands of white lights, blinking down through the silver; only his voice was free, spiraling out and resonating through the gallery.
An arm reached in, bound the last of him to the wall, attached and secure.
The gallery lights dimmed and the crowd was drawn in toward the cage, lit by a multitude of silver-bright-white christmas lights, strewn across the ceiling like stars. The lights caught and reflected on bits of metal, glancing off into the crowd and ricocheting in to highlight him in slits and pinpricks through his splintered facade.
A drip of silver paint from began from above him, painted him, stained him, spread out on the floor around him and seeped out into the crowd, slow and searching.
The vocal loops built, over and over and over, coalesced into a melody. A few taps of the delay pedal and he began - a song, a poem, his favorite poem -
- an altered poem turned to song:
i carry your heart with me i am never without it
i fear no fate i want no world and it’s you
are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing
is you is you is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart
---
“Hey,” Eliza whispered and tapped Matthew in the side.
He turned to see that it was her and nearly dropped his drink. “Hi,” he whispered back.
“Matthew, right?”
He leaned in a little and lowly said “Yeah,” near her ear, overjoyed.
“How are you doing?”
“Eh, good enough,” he laughed a little, under his breath. “And you?”
“Great, thank you.”
They stood like that, close, for a few more moments, before he finally leaned in a little more and whispered “So, would you want to get coffee or something after this? It’s kind of awkward to talk right now.”
“Sure,” she whispered back.
---
After the performance Eduard was seated at a table in the small refreshments area in the back of the gallery, leaning back in his chair, and looking at his homework, stuck. Someone came in, but he didn’t look up. He heard the clack of shoes go past where he was seated, stop abruptly, and finally “Oh my God what-are-you-doing.”
Eduard sighed. Another person teasing him about studying. “Home-”
“No, no, no -” an angry-looking blonde guy set down his drink, snatched the paper closer, and crossed out half of Eduard’s problem, ignoring his horrified expression. “Okay,” he said, slamming the notebook on the table. “You’re taking the partial of x here, yeah? You totally do not need to use the quotient rule on this one.”
“Ahhh....” Eduard started. Okay, so a man in a dress and oxfords had hijacked his homework. A man in a dress and oxfords that showcased his legs nicely. Focus, Eduard, focus. “I don’t?”
“Nuh-uh. Since there’s, like, no x, up here,” the man tapped the page, “just re-write the function -” more scribbles - “like this...instead of having your x3 in the denominator just write it as x-3. Then, like, differentiate with respect to x and you’re gold.”
“Oh,” Eduard paused and looked at the page. “You’re right.” He quickly finished the problem, then turned and smiled up at his tutor. “That’s much less complicated. Thank you....ah... I’m sorry, what is your name?”
I wanted to wait until I had more of these to post, but the plot bunnies for my other fill took me hostage and wouldn’t let me go until I wrote...uh....seven pages of porn. >.>
Yeaaaah.
Ah well. There will be more soon (workin’ on that Tina, yo!). There’s color this time though! Shiny shiny color! Gah I haven’t colored anything in like a year I hope these don’t suck too hard.
Lovinia: http://i55.tinypic.com/e0ojk6.jpg Hahah I’m pretty sure that’s her standard expression.
Natalia and Bella: http://i51.tinypic.com/f9duno.jpg Man. Eaters. Bella usually wears lipstick but I can’t really draw lipstick so er oops. She looked better without it -_-;;
And I may as well answer comments here, all in one comment, rather than taking up comment-space. OH OH, speaking of - uh, Part 14 is really filling up fast, yeah? I’m not sure if they’re letting people post stuff in Past-Part Fills for Part 14 yet, so if it looks like it’s gonna close up and I still haven’t heard anything, I’ll just de-anon and leave a link here to my LJ. Sound good?
Okay so comments! ZOMGGGG WHAI SO AWESOME ANONS &hearts&hearts&hearts&hearts&hearts
1) People likely thought Berwald and Ludwig were the ones I meant by “my favorite relationship arc starts in January zomg” buuuut uh. Gil and Lovi! Gil and Lovi! They are are so fucking psychotic hilariously crazy. I mean, Berwald and Ludwig miiiight be my favorite couple (ugh I can’t choose don’t make me) but writing Gil and Lovi’s relationship is such a blast.
2) Berwald’s Past will be explained. It’s kind of a big deal to him (for good reason), so yeah. It also puts the postmodernism debate in a new light >:D Ludwig’s might not be, even though I could probably fic his backstory (and Berwald’s, and Eirik’s, and Lili’s, and Francis’) at this point, so if you wanna know that I’ll explain in a comment sometime.
3) Uhhh the setting isn’t actually in a real city. I didn’t want to screw up some detail of a real-life one, so I just kind of made it up. It’s near the American-Canadian border, probably Upper Midwest or East US, around one million people (not all within “city limits”), and the university is a Big Deal. There are three subway lines - Red, Yellow, Blue - derp derp primary colors - and a river that kinda does a North-South S through the town. Adams is a major North-South street that runs up one side of campus, and the Yellow line runs along it for a while before it gets to downtown. Downtown is on the south side of the river, and the numbered streets start above it. Y’know, I’ll just sketch out a map and post it with the next sketch dump. Urban planning nerd ahoy! You guys know I’m a nerd, right? Right?
4) People like Cars in Circles nowai! I grew up in a tiny town in the middle of Appalachia (like I said, part of the reason I love Berwald is because we both talk funny XD) so I’m all about the moonshine and cornbread and and and - Uh. I can kill, skin, and fry a squirrel for you if you want >.>
5) Oh I was afraid people would space out for math :/ Sorry! I’ll try and keep it out of the way if you want.
6) AHAHAHA SPARKLE AND MATH - I laughed FOR-FUCKING-EVER. I want to start a comm for Poland/Estonia called “Sparkle and Math” now XDDDD
7) Roddy and Lili, comin’ right up then :D Seriously, if you guys request stuff, I will do my bestest. I wouldn’t be posting on the Kink Meme if I didn’t want input.
8) The hardest scene for March is already done, so the rest should come along in short order. I don’t even wanna know how many times I had to use my thesaurus for that one guh. Writing any interaction between those two may as well be like writing poetry. Everything’s so fucking nuanced. I’m pretty sure everyone’s gathered that I write stupidly fast. I feel like I’m forgetting something though - if you’ve got any requests for scenes/events/people you wanna see more of, throw ‘em at me.
9) Are those anons who wanted to fill before still out there? I would seriously, 9000%, whole-heartedly fangirl over additional fills. PLEASE.
O YEAH DID I SAY I LOVE YOU GUYS? ‘CUZ I LOVE YOU GUYS. OKAY HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND :D :D :D
1) Nowai, I managed to keep an update under 10,000 words. Barely.
2) Whoops, did I say I had some RL stuff coming up? I meant to say RL was gonna bitchslap me. Hanyway.
3) LOLOLOL sup there, lurkers? Mediafire shows me the number of people who download each song - I SEE WUT U DID THAR XD (Also: omgwtf people like the mix tapes sweet.)
4) Also - Roddy and Lili are barely in this one. ;_; I knooooow I knoooow I love them too - but they are everywhere in the next few months, spamming up the fill with their derpy cute fluff times and stuff - and I really needed to get the ball rolling for some other arcs that will happen/continue.
---
MARCH
---
Nils scowled and the straw in his mouth dipped down with it. He entered the last of the inventory into the computer and stabbed the last key down with far more force than necessary.
“Nils, what are you doing to that poor keyboard?” Francis called from across the store, then turned to walk over to him.
“Nothing.”
Francis stopped beside him and raised an eyebrow. “I wish you were still smoking,” he sighed, with a dramatic wave of his hand, “you are so intolerable like this.”
“Intolerable.”
“Yes, I think that is the word. And - stop chewing on those while you’re in here,” Francis chided, snatching the straw from Nils’ lips and tossing it in the trash bin with a curled lip. “This store has a reputation to keep up, you know - and, now that I think of it, stop snapping at customers - I don’t want to have to fire you, beautiful, but it is just...rude.”
Nils looked at Francis, then nodded. He looked at the computer screen a moment before sighing and stating “I wish I was still smoking, too.”
Francis raised his eyebrows for a moment, surprised that Nils was sharing his thoughts on - well, that he was sharing his thoughts at all - then leaned his hip against the desk and gave a gentle smile. “Ah, but I’m sure he thinks it is lovely that you aren’t any longer. Although,” he chuckled and gestured minutely to Nils’ waist, “he might not think that it’s lovely that you’re gaining a few,” he teased, winking at Nils.
Nils stared at Francis for a moment, then looked down, curious, and pulled his shirt up a little. His mind blanked a second - he’d never had an ounce of fat on him in his life - and, well, there it was. Not much, but a little pudge at his hips.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” he snarled, poking at his side.
Francis gave a light laugh as Nils rolled his skin between his fingers, outraged expression on his face. “In my opinion, if you’re going to insist upon quitting - not that that is bad at all, dear, it’s simply that you’ve been so irritable lately - you should at least watch your figure.”
Nils’ furious gaze snapped up to him.
“Perhaps you should pick up some sort of physical activity?” Francis suggested. “Or,” he leered, “more of a certain physical activity.”
Nils closed his eyes and clenched his jaw for a moment. You can’t chew out your boss. You can’t chew out your boss. Even if he’s a fucking pervert who hits on everyone all the damn time.
“You could simply start riding your bike again,” Francis flippantly suggested. “It is nearly spring.”
Nils sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then tugged on the waistband of his jeans. They were a little tighter, weren’t they? “Yeah, I guess so,” he dully replied.
---
“That bastard kissed me in the middle of the station!”
Anja leaned back in the booth and wished for the nth time that you were still allowed to smoke in bars. Huh, apparently Lovinia wanted a response to that last statement, if that expectant glare was anything to go by. Fine, fine. But it wouldn’t be the response she wanted. “And then?” Anja prodded, eyebrow raised.
“...we went to a punk show,” Lovinia muttered. She scowled and finished off her beer. “And then that idiot started a mosh pit and yanked me in.”
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Hipstertalia
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 05:49 am (UTC)(link)Pairings I like: FrSp, UKUS, and Prumano.
Look at this Fucking Fill [1a/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-08-27 07:49 am (UTC)(link)---
AUGUST
---
An extremely drunk guy with glasses and one of those annoying mustache finger tattoos hit the bar beside Natalia with a loud thud. “You...yuh...y’are smokin’ girl.”
She had to cut off Eirik’s rant about how he wished he could’ve been alive to take part in some avant-garde performance troupe (Elbow something?) to send a scathing glare the intruder’s way. All she got was a rather lopsided, but still blinding, smile and a proffered hand. “M’name’s Alfrrred,” the blond smiled. “Wussyurs?”
God, how annoying. He might’ve been cute sober. And with better glasses. And without those dumb skate shoes. And without that fucking dumbass tattoo.
She scowled, flipped her hair behind her back, observed her nails - a nice color of Jade green, today - and then sent a look that idiot’s way that had made better men cry.
---
God this babe was hot....so hot. There were probably no hotter babes...in...yeah. Uh, in...well none nearby, definitely. Yeah she was hot. And he was cool! Yeah...hot babes...go with cool dudes, yeah? That made sense...maybe...
Oh yeah, she was looking right at him. She was kinda scary like that...but still really hot. Charm it up, Alfred! Let her know you’re a cool dude! Hot and cold, ya know? They gotta go together!
“Baabe, you didn’t...d’n’t tell me yer name....but stilllll...I will totes buy ya a PBR. You arrre, like, so hot. Hotterrr than...th’n Alexa Chung, or somethin’. ‘n that girl is...she...she’s’ot.”
“How cliché,” was murmured by that - that really blonde dude - like, uh.... Dude that dude is really blond.
“Duuude,” Alfred slurred out, “y’r hair - you..are..rrreally blond. Your hair’s like....your hair’s like white. S’white blond. S’like an albino? M’roommate’s’n albino.”
“Charming,” the hot girl said, “now go away, hipster scum.”
“Heeeey, ‘m not’a hip...hipsterrr!”
The blond dude was making some noise, and some lipstick girl by him was laughing maybe...Alfred should probably be offended by that noise...but the hot girl! He’s gotta let her know...he’s not...er. Wait. Let her know how cool he was? There seemed to be something he was forgetting.
“I don’t care,” dream girl announced. “Go away.”
God, she was gorgeous. Alfred took the time to observe her cute flowered romper, cable-knit cardigan, and gross grandma flats as his face sank its way closer to the bar’s counter.
“D’ya ride a’bike? Betcha’d...ya’d look rrrreal cute on a bike...”
“Go away before I punch you in the face. Or get the bartender.”
“Wha’no! Barrrtendr’scary! S’all quiet...n’has’a bearrrd n’glassesss...n grunt...grunts.”
Alfred decided that the hot girl was ignoring him now...or...she was talking to really blond guy and giggle-lipstick girl again... Gotta let her know he’s cool.
“I skate ya know...n...do otherrr cool stuff...ya like movies? Orrr music....yeah...m’friend...I think I toldya ‘bout th’ roommate....we’reinna band. Kinda like the Black Lipsss...but...with like...some kraut...krautrock, yeah. Should see us.”
Yeah, she was looking at him again! Kinda...uh...murderously.... Oh shi-
---
“Hey, bartender?”
“S’Berwald. Told ya a dozen times.”
A flat look. Berwald shifted a flannel-clad shoulder in a suggestion of a shrug, and looked unimpressed behind his plastic frames. For some reason, Eirik and Bella were cowering.
“That kid,” Natalia pointed to the guy KO’d on the floor, “needs to leave.”
---
Re: LATFF [1b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-08-27 07:52 am (UTC)(link)“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
---
LATFF [1c/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-08-27 07:54 am (UTC)(link)Roderich listened to his boss recommend a few dresses for the girl in the dressing room, and sat at the cashier’s desk, tapping his fingers to some half-remembered song.
He was bored. All of the new clothes had been unpacked and brought to the front of the store, he’d cleaned, there wasn’t anything to do until a new customer came in. Or Nils came in and he got off of work for the day.
Though he still had a tutoring session later - and was tonight that performance? He should check his calendar. He whipped out his phone to see, and then the door chimed.
“Hello,” he called from the back of the small space. Sound carried pretty well, what with the hardwood floors and minimal interior. He walked up to the front to greet the young woman who had come in. “Welcome to Ombre, have you been in? I’m Roderich.”
She seemed taken aback by his presence and he sighed internally. He was better at addressing men’s clothing needs; the women always seemed skittish around him.
“I’m actually here to see Francis?” she squeaked. “I think he said he was the owner?”
“Ah, er, yes,” Roderich replied. “He’s helping someone out now, but -”
“Hello dear,” Francis pranced over and into the conversation, “were you the one who was looking for the Alexander Wang last week?” Before she could do more than nod, Francis grabbed her by the arm and whisked her to the women’s side of the store, going on about the pieces he’d bought at the fall trunk shows this year, and there was some new A.P.C. and Vena Cava in...
Half an hour later the shop was empty but for the two of them. Roderich sighed. “I don’t get it. Women come into the shop and go straight to you. Women meet us at a gallery opening and go straight to you. You come to my performances and women go straight to you.”
Francis gave a light laugh. “You need something more distinguishing when you’re with the likes of me,” he winked at Roderich, who was so used to it by now it didn’t register. “You dress nicely, of course - I wouldn’t let you work here if you didn’t - that vest looks fantastic, by the way, navy suits you - but...you do lack a little...something, in your appearance...” Here Francis leaned back and scrutinized him like a painting he was trying to understand while Roderich tried not to fidget under his gaze.
“You should get glasses!” Francis exclaimed at last, clapping his hands.
“Glasses? But I don’t need glasses,” Roderich frowned.
“Ah, they would look so good on you, come here, let us find you some,” and Roderich was whisked to the computer to find some exemplary glasses online.
The door chimed and they both looked up, only to find Nils coming in for his shift.
“Nils, beautiful, come here and help Roderich and I pick out a pair of glasses. Don’t you think he would look fantastic with glasses?”
Nils shrugged. Francis draped himself over the smaller man’s shoulders. “You cannot say you have no opinion - I know you know style. Look at this,” he picked at Nils’ shirt, “it’s a simple t-shirt with some straps, but you carry it so well. And it matches the straps and buckles on your boots,” here his hand ran down Nils’ upper arm, “so...what do you think?” what breathed against the man’s ear.
Nils looked to Roderich and mumbled a “nothing too bulky.”
Francis sighed. “It’s like hitting on a brick wall,” he deadpanned over toward Roderich.
---
This was it. Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. His dream girl, the girl he’d had a crush on for two years now, the girl who had started the University’s community gardens, and the Vegan and Vegetarian alliance, and the campaign for bike lanes on campus, and, and - Oh, God, everything about her was perfect - except she had only noticed him a grand total of two times. Once was when they were on a hike with the University’s Environmental Club and she’d asked him for water (he kept the canteen in his desk drawer, still unwashed), and the other was when she had almost run into him on her fixed gear.
He stood by the entrance to the fair-trade coffeeshop she worked at and admired her from the door. No one seemed to notice him, but he was used to that by now. When he was working in the local bike shop, no one really seemed to know he was there until he was right in front of them.
LATFF [1d/?]
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-18 02:22 am (UTC)(link)and I’m updating this other fillso here are some sketches to tide y’all over!Also: YOU GUYS ROCK SO HARD <3<3<3<3 /HEARTSPAM I wish I could reply to everyone but there’s that whole “taking up comment space” issue so just lemme say THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME :D
Also also: To the anon who wanted to see the fem versions of characters - workin’ on it! Fem!Romano’s about halfway done - anyone in particular you want to see? Fem!Netherlands is up in the Halloween sketch dump btw.
Nils being Nils: http://i53.tinypic.com/120pcwn.jpg
Imagine he’s wearing shades of black, gray, and charcoal.
Feliks on NYE: http://i53.tinypic.com/2vrspco.jpg
I sorta forgot his bag of vodka and cranberry juice. Whoops.
Sadiq and his crazy attire/piercings: http://i56.tinypic.com/2aaljbb.jpg
It’s kind of impossible to find official art of his face. So, er, whatever.
Roderich lookin’ cute: http://i52.tinypic.com/uwsh3.jpg
I drew him in a tiny corner of my sketchbook which sucks because I really want to draw his shoes. They are classy. Black pointed-toe oxfords, yo.
BERWALD: http://i54.tinypic.com/3477m9j.jpg
Guess who shaves. *drools* Ugh Sweden is so sexy.
author!anon headdesks
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(Anonymous) 2010-08-28 11:05 am (UTC)(link)Tina, 20, is genderswapped!Finland; Jens, 28, is Germania; Mathias , 25, is Denmark; Alonzo, 30 is Rome. Pretty much because that name rules.
---
SEPTEMBER
---
Alfred hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of hummus as he heard the phone pick up. “Hey Ludwig, you’re back in town right? The moped’s not workin’. Wanna help me fix it?”
His pal sighed over the phone, but Alfred could hear the smile in his reply. “And I assume I need to bring my metric toolkit over?”
“You got it bro!”
---
Alfred and Ludwig had grabbed some bottles of High Life and had set up camp on the meager back patio of Alfred’s apartment. Alfred fished around for his extra spark plug. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it this time - lucky I’ve got one of you industrial design fellas as a pal,” he winked over.
Ludwig blushed and shot a shy smile (well, more like a twitch of the lips) at Alfred.
Alfred just laughed. “On top of that, I’d never have gotten through Calc III without you and Feliks!”
Ludwig resisted the urge to play with the wrench in his hands. “It would help if you would actually do your homework without us making you,” he replied with a trace of irritation in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s so hard when there’s so much going on! I mean, between band practice, and going to shows - “
“-and trying to pick up girls at bars,” was grumbled under Ludwig’s breath.
“And - huh?”
Ludwig blushed again, caught. He took a swig of beer to cover it up and made a noncommittal noise.
“Well, anyway, you takin’ that Bauhaus course this fall? They only offer it every three years or something.”
“Mm, yes, there’s an industrial design component. Not to mention the movement had considerable impact on modern design and architecture. It would be foolish not to.”
“Plus it’s German, you’re a sucker for your heritage dude. So glad you’ve somehow managed to avoid meeting Gilbert - I mean, we’re BFF’s so don’t ask me how that works - you two would start up an Oktoberfest or - hey, you don’t think the fuel tank needs to be flushed, do you? Looks okay to me.”
Ludwig tried to simultaneously lean over Alfred and avoid touching him to look in. “Looks fine.” He handed the flashlight back to Alfred and had a mini-heart-attack when their hands brushed.
“Yeah thought so. Alrighty, mister spark plug, let’s see if you’re our problem.” He looked over to Ludwig and shot a megawatt grin. “Hey, you know Ludwig. We should totally team up for a project in that class! I can do the building stuff and you can do, you know, furniture design or the engineering or whatever - it’ll totally be like we are students in the middle one - “
“Dessau.”
“- yeah, that one - “
Alfred rambled on about how cool it would be to be students in 1920s Germany, and Ludwig took the time to appreciate the lean, strong lines of Alfred’s back as he stretched to reach the front of the engine.
---
Look at this Fucking Fill [2b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-08-28 11:10 am (UTC)(link)Francis sat the new glasses on Roderich’s face. They both turned to the floor-length mirror appraisingly.
“You’re right,” Roderich hummed. “I do look better in glasses.”
“Of course - the navy gradient is a good choice. You wear so much navy.”
“Black is too dreary,” Roderich sighed. “But I’d still like to dress with class.”
“Navy is perfect, then,” Francis agreed. “Though you should lighten it up somewhat. A differently colored tie?”
“No,” Roderich snapped. “It looks sleek like this. Sophisticated.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up in what he hoped was an affected yet defiant look.
“Consider a pocket square then.”
The door chimed and a young woman with her blond hair twisted back in an elegantly disheveled french braid and bright green eyes walked in, meekly. Francis elbowed Roderich to take care of it.
He stepped lightly over with an introduction and asked if she was looking for something in particular.
“Uh, no, not exactly. I was just looking online at Yelp reviews, and they said that this store carried Acne?”
“We do,” Roderich said, “it’s over - “
“Oh no, I’m not exactly looking for Acne...I just thought that, you know, if you had a brand I liked then it would probably be worth checking out.”
Roderich cleared his throat and adjusted his watch a bit awkwardly. The girl looked up at him with those bright green eyes. She was pretty cute. He held out his hand. “I’m Roderich - feel free to look around, just call if you have need of me.”
She let out a dainty laugh and placed her small hand in his. He hoped his hand wasn’t sweaty, how unappealing. “Mine’s Lili.” She gave a small curtsey and skipped over to the women’s side.
“She’s a cute little thing, non?” was murmured just under Roderich’s ear.
He jumped and Francis’ jaw clacked shut against his shoulder. “Francis!” he hissed.
Francis rubbed his jaw, glared at Roderich, then sashayed over to the girl, calling out “Here, let me take those to the fitting room for you - I have to step out to run a small errand, so ask Roderich for any opinions, dear. He has a good eye for beauty.”
Roderich was going to strangle Francis, boss or not.
---
“What do you think of this one?” Lili emerged in a 50’s-esque black chiffon polka dot dress. It was both hot and utterly adorable - it nipped in to show off her tiny waist but draped loosely everywhere else.
Oh dear. Roderich cursed his body for reacting like a teenager’s. A teenager’s! The impropriety!
“I-It’s nice,” he stammered out. “But, ah, I think there’s another dress out here you would like, if you like this one. Should I fetch it for you?”
“Sure!”
He couldn’t decide if he was perverted or if this was how all decent salespeople felt. He did know that she would look wonderful in the dress he had in mind, though. Tasteful, feminine, a soft pink hue that would complement her lips and cheeks - she’d look ready to take to the orchestra. Or dancing. Or dancing with an orchestra. Now there was an idea.
---
Roderich didn’t need Francis sighing at him; he already knew he was a coward for not asking Lili to an orchestra/dance/anything at all. He just totally lost his nerve (and his voice) after seeing her in that dress. Oh, and here was Nils. Great, the two of them could both make fun of him.
Nils stopped in front of them and Francis and he had a silent war. Francis insisted that Nils was too quiet and that to remain employed he had to at least muster a greeting and a small bit of conversation. “Heya, trust funders,” Nils finally said.
Francis squawked, indignant, and Roderich tried not to laugh at the snarky kid. “A trust-funder, he says!” He turned to Roderich to share his outrage.
Nils smirked. “Are you denying it?”
“I will have you know,” Francis pointed menacingly to Nils, “that I make my own money now, if you couldn’t tell,” he gestured around the store. “That fund just sits there now! Though it is reassuring to have,” he muttered under his breath.
Roderich shrugged. Nils knew he worked part-time here and spent the rest of his time tutoring music students. “I don’t spend mine on anything but rent,” he pointed out.
“Because you spend all the money you make here on clothes,” Nils shot back. “But then you bring in Ramen for lunch. Gotta keep up appearances I guess.”
---
Look at this Fucking Fill [2c/?]
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(Anonymous) 2010-08-30 03:38 am (UTC)(link)---
OCTOBER
---
Alfred blearily poured himself some coffee and collapsed into his chair at the breakfast table. Ten A.M. classes - fuck that. He stuck his face down into his coffee mug and stared at his roommates over the top, their words not really making it to his brain quite yet.
They ignored him for now. Man, but he loved these dudes. Didn’t try to talk to him before his first cup of coffee or get weirded out by his zombie stare or anything!
Near the end of his first cup he scrunched up his face and croaked out “whoa, you two both need haircuts.”
They stopped talking - well, more like Gilbert stopped talking - and looked at him. He cleared his throat. “Your hair is gettin’ really long, both of you, actually, but especially you, Nils,” he gestured his cup in Nils’ direction, ignoring the dangerous slosh of coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that long. S’weird - I mean, it looks okay, you know, it’s just...” he shrugged and got up to fetch another cup of coffee.
Nils grabbed a lock of his hair and examined it. “Francis hates it. Says I need layers or something. Told him I would get it cut in November.”
Alfred sat down, asking, “November?” At the same time Gilbert burst out with “Ah no way, you’re growing your hair out for Hallo-fuckin-ween too?!” He threw his boots up on the table and lit a cigarette; Nils’ “Get your goddamned nasty shoes off the table!” was drowned out by Alfred’s yelp of “OH GOD, HALLOWEEN!”
Nils raised an eyebrow. “You forgot, huh?”
“Yes! And it’s, like, the best holiday except maybe Christmas!” he paced around the kitchen. “Okay,” he pounded his fist into his hand, “all I’ve gotta do is brainstorm some awesome ideas during class today - do you guys have any?”
Nils shook his head. Gilbert just said he’d kill Alfred if he stole his idea.
“Okay, so, first! Ideas! That’s okay because I am full of ideas! Or, I will be. Second, I gotta start working on my costume with Ludwig, because that dude makes awesome costumes! We are such a cool team - I’ve got the amazing ideas and he makes it work,” he flashed a smile and a thumbs-up at the other two.
“Aay wait,” Gilbert waved, “is that your design pal? Didn’t you say he built stuff?”
Alfred nodded with a “yup!”
“And he can help with Halloween costumes?”
“Well, he’s helping me,” Alfred shrugged.
“Alright. I need to talk to the nerd,” Gilbert said.
“He’s not really a nerd, Gil, he’s actua-”
“Bullshit, what isn’t nerdy about industrial design? Just gimme his number.”
---
Elizabeta leaned against Arthur’s doorframe and peered into his room. It was ridiculously neat, surprising with the way he treated the rest of the space. “Arthur,” she called.
“Yeah?” He walked around from his “closet”, a metal bar suspended from the ceiling, while yanking on a clean shirt.
“The warehouse space is huge,” she tilted her head to it, “ever had a Halloween party here?”
“Not really,” he replied.
“Want to have a Halloween party?” she asked.
“Perhaps if you bribe me with some beer -”
“Deal! Wanna make some flyers at the zine shop today?”
Arthur snorted. “That’s wasteful. If we want a huge party, all I have to do is tell Francis. The whole town will know by tomorrow.”
“So you’ll do that?”
“Sure. Oh, and you should talk to those hermits you know if you want them to come. Gotta go to work, love,” and with that he hugged her and left.
---
Nils threw his zines up onto the counter and looked up at the familiar voice.
“Never seen you before in my life and now I’ve seen you twice in a month,” Arthur said as he looked over the purchases. Nils didn’t say anything: he’d seen the guy more than twice, but apparently he’d been too smashed to remember.
“Oh, this one,” Arthur pointed to Wildlifoodin, “is pretty good. I mean, I doubt I’ll ever be out in the country to put any of it to use. Stuck in the city, and here the hunter-gatherers are freegans.”
LATFF [3b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-08-30 03:39 am (UTC)(link)“Mm, most of the time. It’s easier than you think, especially with that Trader Joe’s near downtown. They toss out all sorts of good things.”
Nils raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Arthur nodded. “I’m going Wednesday, actually, if you want to come with. Just swing by my place around 9:30.”
“Okay,” Nils picked up his zines, placed them in his bag, and turned to go before Arthur’s voice stopped him.
“Oh yeah, The Scam is throwing a Halloween party, come by and bring your friends - tell ‘em all about it. Even that loud freak ‘o yours.”
“Oh God, Gilbert?” A blank look. “The pale one?”
“Yeah, that one. Seems like a proper hooligan.”
Nils snorted. “I don’t think he’s a proper anything - but I’ll let him know.”
---
“What a bummer - that total babe isn’t here,” Alfred whined.
“I don’t know why you thought she would be,” Feliks snapped.
“She was here when I met her! Oh, hey dude -” he gestured to Berwald, “another round?”
It was a pretty quiet night at the bar, all said. Berwald shoved some new shot glasses over the counter to them and resumed cleaning some glasses, listening in on the conversation.
“You know I don’t care about girls, anyway -”
“I still value your opinion!”
“- but I could tell you about her shoes or something,” Feliks finished. He called over to Berwald - “Hey, hot stuff - you know the girl he’s talkin’ about?”
Berwald blushed but assumed his beard hid it. “She’s b’n here,” he grunted.
“Well? C’mon,” Feliks gestured, “is she as, you know, ‘totally hot’ as Al says?”
Berwald looked at them a moment. He moved a shoulder in a shrug.
Feliks glared and tossed his hair back. “He’s not gonna deck you or something if you say she is,” he looked over to Alfred, who nodded.
“She’s...attract’ve,” he said.
Alfred shoved himself forward in his stool and nearly spilled his whiskey over the countertop. Berwald’s eye twitched behind his glasses. “She’s a total babe! Are you gay or something?!”
All three stayed motionless - Feliks and Berwald looked at each other and Alfred waited on a reply, tapping a rhythm with his leg against the stool.
“Seriously, Al, you have like, no gaydar,” Feliks finally broke the silence.
“Whoa, wait, you’re gay?!” Alfred shot to Berwald.
Berwald just tilted his head up in a sort-of nod.
“Huh,” Alfred mused. He sipped some of his shot. “Why don’t you two hook up, then?”
Feliks laughed; Berwald’s cheeks burned. “He’s, like, totally not my type - sorry man,” Feliks said to Berwald. “You’re too manly,” he sniffed.
Berwald shrugged and filled their glasses, saying “S’on the house.”
---
Gilbert threw himself down on the couch next to Alfred. “Yo, that Ludwig dude? Totally German! It’s almost as awesome as having Prussian ancestry, you know?!” He nudged Alfred in the ribs. Alfred continued to watch The Wire.
“Huh, well, we’re gonna have an Oktoberfest next week,” Gilbert finally said.
That tore Alfred from his zombie-stare at the television. “We have a show next week, Gil,” he said.
Gilbert laughed maniacally. “Hey, Al, I am more than able to handle two nights of drinking in a week, unlike some pussies,” he shoved Alfred and the guy fell over into the armrest.
“Hey! I’ve got school,” Alfred bit out. “And shouldn’t you be looking for jobs now or somethin’? Landscaping season is kind of over.”
“Oh yeah!” Gilbert yelled. “That kickass skateshop on Maple - they don’t have anyone for rollerblades, sucks to be them - so they hired me! Suck it, skateboarder!” He punctuated this by thrusting his hips up and doing that cross thing above his crotch. Alfred rolled his eyes, so Gilbert threw up some metal hand gestures and made a really gross face at Alfred, just to rub it in.
---
LATFF [3c/?]
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-01 11:35 am (UTC)(link)Also, there are music references out the wazoo here...so I posted the songs mentioned on mediafire, it should work, just remove the spaces: http://www. mediafire.com/ ?6cdlccq99bkki
New people are here! (Everyone who will ever be in this story is at this party...except Canada, who’s in France, and Sweden, who had to work.) Belgium is Bella, 19, and fem!Italy is Feli, 20. And then we have Rome’s posse. Taiwan is Cindy, 23, Seychelles is Michelle, 22, Vietnam is Mai, 26, Ukraine is Katya, 27, fem!Netherlands is Anja, 24, fem!Romano is Lavinia, 23. Got that? No? Well, it’s not too important.
---
Feliks shoved the door to The Scam open just as Ludwig awkwardly adjusted what he was carrying to knock, loudly calling out “Hello, bitches, we’re here to glam up your pad like the generous and fabulous souls we are!”
“Feliks! Are you with Ludwig?” Eliza called, her quick footsteps echoing in the empty space. She rounded the corner and they saw that she was dressed as an old-school pilot.
“Oh, goodness, do you two need help - “ she stopped and looked at Feliks again. “Is that a real fur coat, Feliks? And, wait, you aren’t just crossdressing for Halloween, are you? That seems unlike you.”
“Oh, please, it’s vintage. That’s like, recycling,” he waved.
“Feliks is Margot Tenenbaum,” Ludwig supplied from behind a giant speaker.
“Who’s that?” Eliza asked.
“C’mon girl, from the movie? The Royal Tenenbaums? No? Jeez, it wouldn’t hurt you to watch a movie once every two years, you know.”
“Um,” Ludwig’s strained voice sounded, “may I set these down someplace?”
---
Arthur stood underneath Ludwig by the ladder, watching the man expertly place and wire speakers around the room. He felt kind of useless, truthfully, just smoking and handing the guy a screwdriver every once in a while. He glanced over to Eliza and Feliks, putting up streamers and - when did they acquire a disco ball?
Ludwig moved down the ladder and was dragging it to another spot when Arthur realized what was off. “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of putting these up,” he replied. “But normally I don’t dress up for Halloween - Alfred forced me to this year. He wanted me to wear a full costume, but we compromised. It was actually his idea.”
Arthur just raised his eyebrow at this. Did he know this Alfred guy? Sounded familiar.
Ludwig blushed. “Ah...I’ll just go get it and show you. Feliks liked it.”
Arthur busied himself with dragging the ladder to the next spot, when he heard Ludwig cough behind him. He turned around and didn’t see anything immediately off - and then looked up. Somehow, floating above the man’s head, was - he snorted - “You -” he stifled his laughter - “y-you’re thinking Arby’s?”
Ludwig nodded and the red cardboard hat symbol bounced around accordingly; at this Arthur completely lost it and fell to the ground howling with laughter. It was soon joined by Eliza’s light laughter and comments on what a good idea it was.
Arthur picked himself up off the floor, still sporadically laughing, and looked up at a furiously blushing Ludwig. “What a fuckin’ fantastic costume!” he finally got out.
---
The Ambiguously Gay Duo and some Rockabillies no one seemed to know were hovering around the (spiked) punch bowl. Ludwig looked over at them and wondered if he should start playing music. Were there enough people here?
He was debating whether or not it would be more or less awkward to start playing music when Alfred, Gilbert, Antonio, and Nils entered with entirely too much beer and liquor for four people.
“Yo, Arthur, can we stash these somewhere safe?” Gilbert called, raising up a 24-pack with his only available hand. Arthur looked over Gilbert and Nils and said, in an approving voice, “you two look fucking horrendous. Did you dye your hair black, Gilbert?”
“It’s temporary! It should wash out soon. C’mon, I can’t be a white-haired Edward Scissorhands,” he waved his metal-clad hand around and Nils scooted out of the way.
“Is that actual metal?” Arthur asked, tapping the hand. “How did you manage that?”
LATFF [4b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-01 11:36 am (UTC)(link)“Hey!” Feliks called. “I helped with your hair, Gilbert! And you would have been, like, totally screwed without Nils to help with the outfit.”
Nils nodded.
“This way,” Arthur said, and led Gilbert and Nils to a storage closet in the hallway. “So you’re a death metal guy?” He nodded to Nils’ painted face and torn leather getup.
“Per Yngve Ohlin - better known as Dead, from Mayhem,” Nils corrected.
“Under the jacket - he’s got fake blood smeared all over his arms,” Gilbert cut in. “The guy was so badass he slit his wrists and then composed the goddamn suicide note!”
Arthur stood back and whistled. “Well fuck me, you’re a dead ringer for ‘im. Okay, just throw your shit in here,” he gestured to the mostly-bare closet.
---
Antonio, wearing some kind of odd helmet and leather, came over to chat with Ludwig, and Alfred made a beeline to Elizabeta and began whining that he should DJ until more people came - and then Ludwig could take over, he promised.
“Ludwig, do you mind?” she called to him.
He smiled at Alfred. “No. I’ve got an iPod jack here, CD player here, and record player here,” he showed Alfred the setup, pointing out each item in turn. Alfred managed to shove his iPod onto the jack despite his gloved hands, and immediately began blasting “Drunk Girls” by LCD Soundsystem.
“Alfred!” Feliks snapped. “This is a total drunk song! It’s called Drunk Girls! You don’t play that, like, until that party’s actually swinging!”
“Nah dude, you gotta start things off with a bang!” Alfred laughed, the noise making a tinny echo in his helmet.
“You’re just impatient,” Feliks yelled over the music.
The main lights went off and Feliks’ party lights went on. “See,” Alfred pointed to Gilbert, who was jokingly grinding against Antonio on the ‘dance floor’ - “Gil and I start the party! Plus, I’ve got Dan Deacon and Outkast in the works, it’s cool. Go dance, man!”
Feliks shrugged, put his coat behind some speakers, and joined the tiny dance floor that had started with Gilbert and Antonio. Soon Elizabeta, an Amy Winehouse, some Rockabillies, and a pretty good Deadmau5 had joined in.
---
Meanwhile, Arthur and Nils were sitting on Arthur’s bed, flipping through various zines and drinking Arthur’s homebrew.
Nils didn’t realize he’d finished his bottle until Arthur shoved another into his hand and opened it for him. He laughed a bit, already tipsy. “Wow, didn’t realize I’d finished it. It’s really good,” he said.
“Thanks,” Arthur replied. “Wanted something that tasted good, didn’t have a piss-poor ABV, and didn’t cost an arm. Had to make it myself.”
“Oh? What’s the ABV?”
“Well, the recipe I used, could be anywhere from 8 to 12 percent.”
“Shit!” Nils exclaimed. “We drank a little at the house - I’m gonna be smashed before midnight!”
Arthur cuffed him and shouted “That’s the spirit!” Nils groaned.
---
Ludwig was taking over his post from a protesting Alfred when Alfred was distracted by the troupe that entered the room. “Whoa, they look fancy!” he pointed to Eirik, Natalia, and Bella, not actually realizing who they were. “All old-fashioned, ya know? Don’t girls dressed like that have, er, a name or something? What’re they called?”
“Flappers?”
“Ha! Yeah, man, Ludwig, how do you know everything?”
Two giggling figures soon followed the 20’s socialites - they were unmistakably Andy Warhol and Debbie Harry. A girl in a hat that made her look like a jellyfish appeared out of nowhere, then ran up and tackled both from behind in a massive hug. “Whoa!” Alfred exclaimed, “I need to see that hat!” and he took off.
One of the flappers came up to Ludwig, and it took him a minute to realize it was Natalia with her short brown bob. “I assume that is a wig?” he gestured to her hair.
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(Anonymous) - 2010-09-04 13:48 (UTC) - ExpandLook at this Fucking Fill [5a/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-04 03:07 pm (UTC)(link)---
NOVEMBER
---
Kiku opened his eyes and saw Ivan asleep below him on the floor. Sunlight streamed across his face, illuminating an open mouth that was drooling on an improvised bear-head pillow, his body surrounded by a wide variety of abandoned food containers and controllers. Kiku snapped a quick picture with his phone...now, he should find the bathroom. Where was that, again? He padded down the hall and made to grab the door handle, but the door flew open right as he put his arm out. He was firstly assaulted by the smell of bile, stale beer, and sweat - he looked up to see a terrifying vision of bleary, bloodshot eyes surrounded by sooty paint and long, matted hair. All of this was underscored by a jagged frown made all the more menacing by a split and swollen lip.
They both stood stock-still for a moment, surprised, then Nils grumbled something inarticulate, shoved past Kiku, and vanished into a room further down the hall.
---
Pictures from the party had gone up on Neon Shark by the next night. Alfred and Gilbert were at Alfred’s computer, excitedly clicking through them and commenting.
“Hey, that’s you, Alfredo!” Gilbert said right into Alfred’s ear and pointed to the screen. It was a picture shot through the crowd of both Bender and the jellyfish, in the middle of a hilariously over-animated conversation. “You chumps look like you’re three-year-olds learning to dance,” Gilbert snarked, “or maybe just retarded.” Alfred shouted a “Hey!” and shoved him over, then clicked on, flipping through a set of people he didn’t know rather quickly.
He paused at a picture of Daft Punk grinding against one another on the dance floor and laughed - Gilbert elbowed him and growled that he didn’t want his eyes to be burned out from looking too long, and what, was he gay or something? Alfred continued scrolling.
“Whoa - stop! Look at how fuckin’ punk ass we all look!” Gilbert said at the first mosh pit photo that came up. The two talked about how cool they were, how cool moshing was, how cool the whole party was, and took their time going through the rest.
“Wow, dude,” Alfred leaned into the screen for a better look, “guess I was more drunk than I thought - when did so much blood get everywhere? Who got that injured? ‘Cuz, huh, Nils split his lip - and I think Arthur got smashed with a bottle -”
Gilbert cackled and crowed out “I swiped Nils’ fake blood from right under his painty nose! Tossed it around during “My Shadow” - got all you suckers covered and no one even noticed!”
“Sweet!” Alfred held out his arm they shared and knuckle-jarring fist bump. “We look scary,” he grinned.
“Hell yeah!” Gilbert agreed. “We are some goddamn awful, violent, terrifying motherfuckers!”
“We’ll cut you up!”
“We’ll eat your children!”
“We’ll rape your mothers!”
“We’ll rape your fathers!”
“We - ahahah fathers! Father-rapers*!” Alfred howled.
“Hey, our creepy-bear,” Gilbert pointed, smearing his finger on the screen. A dancing Ivan was plainly visible, looming above the crowd in his Radiohead bear costume.
“He should wear that thing all the time!” Alfred chirped. Gilbert snorted and reached over to click to the next photo with a hard punch of his fingers onto the mouse.
They both stopped for a second - Alfred opened his mouth first with a “Dude, score! What a babe!” before Gilbert yowled “The fuck? Why don’t I remember that?!”
“What?! How could you forget that?” Alfred gestured to the screen, where Gilbert and a very attractive steampunk girl were sucking each other’s faces off.
Gilbert looked like he had just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. Or pouring out all of his beer. Or had been told cigarettes were now $20 a pack. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he moaned.
“Do ya remember moshing - wait, you were just talkin’ about it. Okay, so, you moshed,” Alfred tapped his fingers on the desk. “Then I didn’t see you for a while - found ya outside when I was leavin’.”
LATFF [5b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-04 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)“Bummer,” Alfred sighed and patted his pal’s back in sympathy. “At least you got some?”
---
Francis and Antonio were seated next to each other in a corner of a cafe they frequented fairly often. Their waitress came by and asked if they wanted the usual, and Francis felt a twinge in his chest at the expression that crossed Antonio’s face for a fleeting moment. They watched her go and sat in silence, pleasantries having been exchanged before she came by. Francis fiddled with his shirt cuff, trying not to look over and cursing that everything he tried to say died in his throat. Antonio beat out a rhythm with his fork on the tabletop and sang along to the music playing under his breath, seemingly oblivious to Francis’ plight.
“I...” Francis started. A latte was placed in front of him.
Antonio sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows, still humming the song.
Francis took a deep breath. Since when were these things so hard? “I didn’t think we were exclusive, dear,” he finally said, wearily.
Antonio tilted his head and looked at Francis with a bit of confusion, no longer humming, but not saying anything else either.
“Oh,” Francis inhaled. “...you have been, haven’t you?”
Still no verbal response - Antonio merely smiled while he moved in his seat a little, then shrugged and laughed.
How could he act so lighthearted? The silence was crushing; the air around them seemed to sink into Francis’ stomach, press against his lungs, paralyze his throat. A nervous “Do you want to be?” made it out into the space between them.
“Do you?” Antonio asked, genuinely curious.
More crushing silence. Francis let his gaze go unfocused and low, the grain of the table smearing into something resembling a child’s fingerpaint experiments in browns and blacks. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but Antonio’s sigh brought him out of his trance.
“Take some time to figure out what you want,” Antonio smiled, brushing a strand of Francis’ hair behind his ear. Francis’ gaze snapped to him, alarmed. “I’m not angry,” Antonio laughed.
“Then why-”
“You need time to think! You always do call yourself a philosopher,” Antonio tapped him on the temple teasingly. His gaze became serious. “Get back to me. You know how I feel.” He kissed Francis on the cheek and got up, whistling a tune Francis didn’t know as he went out the door.
Francis watched until he couldn’t see the ratty jacket he had always griped about so much any longer, then continued staring out the window, lost in thought. He brought his beverage to his lips, took a sip, and barely refrained from spitting it right back out.
He looked down at it, frowning.
It had gone cold.
---
“Do what he told you to,” Roderich shrugged from his place behind the desk.
Francis huffed and shifted his pose, leaning his hip further into the wood. “Yes, but you see, thinking about it is all that I have been doing.”
Roderich hummed. He didn’t know what else to say about it; he’d heard everything from Francis this morning at work, both of them putting off things that should have been done around the store. He did have a different question though. “What will you do about Nils?”
“Nils?”
“Yes, Nils,” Roderich retorted.
“Why, nothing,” Francis frowned. “I doubt he will mention it.”
Roderich just put his head in his hand and shook it, sighing. How did he ever become acquainted with these sorts of people?
---
Nils walked in, ramrod-straight, and looked between the two. “I assume I still work here.”
“Oh, please -” Francis flapped a hand, “You are in college, non? You know how these things go. You drink, do something silly, life goes on.” He shrugged. “Now, be a dear and start on the inventory in the back - I’m afraid we’re a bit behind, today.”
“Your hair looks much better with that cut, by the way!” he called to Nils’ back.
---
LATFF [5c/?]
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-04 15:09 (UTC) - ExpandLATFF [5d/?]
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(Anonymous) - 2010-09-04 15:16 (UTC) - ExpandOP
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(Anonymous) - 2010-09-07 16:57 (UTC) - ExpandSketch Dump #2
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)Ivan and Francis: http://i55.tinypic.com/2a6p9a0.jpg
Ivaaaan <3<3<3<3<3 Also, drawing Francis’ pants was oddly fun.
Francis and Antonio: http://i56.tinypic.com/28br66a.jpg
Oh God can you tell I’ve never drawn Spain? O.o I sure can.
Jens, Mathias, Anja: http://i54.tinypic.com/4uvr5y.jpg
Anja is tall. Really, really tall. She could be a model, but if you told her that, she’d probably kick your ass.
Ludwig and Natalia: http://i53.tinypic.com/23kuav7.jpg
I can’t decide if Ludwig is a fucking fox or utterly adorable. In case you forgot, that’s his normal attire. Lawl pompadour.
And I think it’s pretty established that Natalia is a babe.Arthur, Nils, Gilbert, Alfred: http://i56.tinypic.com/2dbsdo9.jpg
There’s a game to play with this one. It’s called “find the dork”.
OP
(Anonymous) 2010-09-07 12:22 am (UTC)(link)SPAIN IS SO CUTE
AND GERMANY
HIS HAIR
HIS EVERYTHING
and Belarus is a babe and a half, for real< 333
November FST/Mixtape sorta thing?
(Anonymous) 2010-09-09 02:20 am (UTC)(link)http://www.me diafire.com/?9gfl rgw5ck17i
First two scenes:
Matt and Kim - Daylight
France and Spain get coffee - this was THE ONLY song I listened to while writing that scene:
Life Without Buildings - Envoys
Eirik does performance art:
Radiohead - Exit Music (For a Film)
Kría Brekkan - Ravine Solush - oh God this song is so pretty
The Boo Radleys - Upon 9th and Fairchild - Eirik sounds like this guy!
Nils and Kiku start hanging out:
Braid - Killing a Camera - What a November song.
Animal Collective - Did You See the Words - I also listened to this’un while writing the Machine Girl scene
MST3k Bro Night:
Built to Spill - Carry the Zero
Machine Girl Night + Antonio and Franics come to an agreement:
Nick Drake - Place to Be
Belle and Sebastian - Belle and Sebastian on the Radio
Natalia and Eirik get sushi - wow, these are like their theme songs (well, for now - there will be Autolux’s “Asleep at the Trigger” later)
Broken Social Scene - Swimmers
Panda Bear - Song for Ariel
Look at this Fucking Fill [6a/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-09 04:18 am (UTC)(link)Or if you’re just reading, say hello. Moar comments = moar writing :D
---
DECEMBER
---
Kiku heard the phone line pick up followed by Ludwig’s matter-of-fact greeting. After a politely minimal amount of small talk, he got to the reason for his call. “Ludwig...I apologize for being so blunt, but I don’t think we should strive to take our relationship in a romantic direction any longer.”
“Ah - you don’t?”
“No...I was not feeling any “chemistry” between us, as they say. I am sorry.”
Ludwig nodded and realized Kiku couldn’t see him over the phone. “Oh, no then, continuing a romantic relationship would not be prudent,” he conceded. “I...”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t...I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”
“No, Ludwig. You did not,” Kiku reassured. “You’re a good person. Smart, capable, cultured - many admirable things. I simply think we work better as friends...” here he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
“Okay.”
“I...”
Ludwig waited; Kiku could hear him breathing softly, waiting for him to go on.
“I mostly realized it...ah...while spending time in the company of Nils,” he finally said, hoping Ludwig would understand what he meant.
“Oh.” Apparently so.
“Yes. I would like to date him - I do not mean to be callous, saying this, I just thought -”
“I would rather hear it from you,” Ludwig finished for him.
“Yes,” Kiku affirmed, relief that Ludwig understood pushing aside his annoyance at being interrupted.
“Well, good luck to both of you, then.”
“Thank you.”
---
“Ughhhhhh, Ludwiiiiiig, why do we hafta work now?” Alfred whined from the other side of the table.
“Finals are coming up,” he tersely replied, engrossed in his own problem - sketching out various designs for chairs, trying to find angles that worked. “And I am sure you are behind.”
Alfred pouted. “So?”
“Do you want to fail?” Ludwig frowned.
“Hey! I won’t fail! I mean, I might make a C or something - I’ll still pass!”
At this Ludwig nearly glared. “You are more than able to pass with an A. So start catching up, now. If you don’t, I will call Feliks.”
“Feliks!?!” Alfred squawked. “Noooo, please, don’t call him! He’s so mean - he gets all Mathematics Drill Commander crazy! You know he does! You guys tutored together - he does, he does, agree with me, Ludwig, you know he -”
“I know he does,” Ludwig sighed. “Which is why I threatened to get him here if you don’t. Start. Now.”
“You could just not bother at all,” Alfred groused, resuming work on a problem that had already taken up half the page. “I’d still pass.”
Ludwig glanced up at Alfred through his eyelashes. Not bother? He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to “not bother” with Alfred.
Alfred wasn’t ever serious - at first it annoyed Ludwig to no end, but he found that, well, maybe he was too serious, just like Feliks accused him of being. Alfred was so bright, and silly, and enthusiastic, and kind, and liked everyone...becoming friends with him had lightened up Ludwig quite a bit. Had lightened his whole life quite a bit. Most of the time, they balanced each other out. Sometimes, though, it was like this - Ludwig being frustrated that Alfred couldn’t be serious for just a little bit, at least.
“Hey, dude,” Alfred laughed, tossing a crumpled ball of paper into his head and interrupting his musings. “And you’re bothering me ‘bout not studying, Mr. Let’s-Just-Space-Out-for-Five-Minutes.”
---
The Nutcracker let out, and Roderich and Lily were slowly making their way down the front stairs of the theater. Roderich was unsure if he should hold her arm as they went, as it was the gentlemanly thing to do - but he looked at her stepping lightly down the stairs and lost his breath. She looked lovely in the golden lights around the entry - she had worn that pink dress -oh God, that dress - with gray wool tights and darker, suede, architectural heels. Her long, ruffled coat whipped around in the wind as she tried to button it up and keep hold of her lightweight scarf at the same time, while some blonde curls escaped from her loose updo and blew everywhere.
LATFFl [6b/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-09 04:19 am (UTC)(link)She looked up at him with a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Hot chocolate at the park?” She grabbed his arm and led him there without waiting on a response. There were Christmas lights strung along the branches above the paths, white and otherworldly, and he listened to her marvel over them and voiced his quiet thoughts.
They grabbed hot chocolate and a bench a bit away from the path, sheltered from the wind - him leaning forward and watching families, carolers, and revelers go by, her talking.
He also watched her, his legs crossed, elbow on one knee, as she talked about stars and hiking and how she used to sneak out to lay out on her trampoline as a kid in the winter because the stars were beautiful in the cold. They were better, brighter, more easily seen, in the small town she was from, too.
Roderich looked up through an opening in the swaying trees - he couldn’t really see anything except for the orange glow of the city and a few dulled dots scattered around. “I’ve never been hiking,” he murmured.
“You haven’t? We should go when summer comes around, then,” she smiled. “Then you could see real stars, not these,” she threw her hand up to the night sky.
Roderich blushed at the implication of staying all night, anywhere, with her.
---
Under the faded glow of the subway station’s entrance they hugged goodnight; he tried to pull away but she only let him go half a step before she tightened her arms around him, looking up.
“I had a great time,” she said, soft.
“Ah, yes, as did I.” They stood there awkwardly for a few more moments, her looking up to him. “So...” he started. “Will I see you again before Christmas?”
She pulled away and sighed, a wry smile on her face. “Probably not. I have finals, and then I’m going home for the holidays.”
“Oh. Well. Look at some stars for me?”
She laughed a little. “Yes, I will.”
---
“So let me get this straight,” Francis stated, hand on his hip, scrutinizing Roderich. “You dressed up. She dressed up. The two of you met, and went to the ballet, together. Then you went on a romantic stroll through the park - and when it was time for her to go, you didn’t even kiss her?!”
“Wh- well - ah, no?” Roderich replied, sinking into himself, sheepish.
“My darling, I love you dearly, but you are hopeless when it comes to love.”
“Ah - sorry?”
“Well, no use now,” Francis sighed. “Still - you must follow this up! Ask her to do something, this moment! Here, get out your phone,” he said, moving to snatch it from Roderich’s vest pocket.
“I can’t,” Roderich frowned and twisted, shooing Francis’ arm away. “Not until she’s back home from winter break.”
Francis gave Roderich a curious look. “She’s still living in the dorms? How old is she?”
Roderich looked to him, surprised. “...I...I don’t know. It never came up.”
---
It smelled like it was going to snow, Ludwig noted. He sighed, trudging to the front door of the college workshop and jerking it open in his frustration. He had a final tomorrow, but he really should be finishing up his chair - so here he was, ten o’clock on a night before a final, and it was probably about to snow.
Ludwig was unsurprised to see Natalia under her gloves and mask, welding two twisted swords into one another, surrounded by knives and blades of various lengths. She’d been working on her sculpture project off-and-on all week between her other finals. Now that it was almost finished, she had it hanging and he could see that it was a mobile. Knives, swords, and thin metal blades twisted and slid in and out of each other, spun around on their threads - in and out, around and around, it looked like a cross between a flitting school of fish in the sun, the heat of an ancient battle, and the lonely dance of the stars at night.
He wanted to comment, but she was too busy, so he resumed his project. When she finished she waved to him and he paused and sat beside her on the floor.
“It looks great,” she nodded to his chair.
“Oh,” he looked over to it, flustered. “Thank you. I was going to say the same about your mobile.”
She smiled.
“It’s late,” Ludwig stated, frowning. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
LATFF [6c/?]
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(Anonymous) - 2010-09-10 11:57 (UTC) - ExpandOP
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-11 02:14 (UTC) - ExpandLook at this Fucking Fill [7a/?]
(Anonymous) 2010-09-13 05:42 am (UTC)(link)And I dunno if I just have weird friends or what, but the guys do this shit at parties all the time. And then the gay ones make out with girls. O.o
---
New Year’s Eve
---
Feliks paused outside the front door of the Hjortdonner house, shifting his bag of vodka and cranberry juice to reach for the handle. Gilbert’s voice, coming from the back porch, could be plainly heard. He listened more closely; that may have been Nils with him. Probably smoking, then. Feliks walked right in, heels muffled by the living room carpet. He took in the living room with one glance - Kiku and Ludwig were playing Sonic 2, and Alfred was prattling on to a half-bemused, half-intrigued Ivan about the differences in music between the one- and two-person settings.
“Your decorations suck, Alfred,” Feliks finally stated.
Alfred jumped and turned, then shot up from the floor with a giant grin, saying “Hey, Ludwig and I worked hard on those!”
“Uh-huh,” Feliks nodded. It was clear who had done what - the haphazard streamers taped to walls and doorways were obviously Alfred’s doing, while the balloons and perfectly-placed banner screamed Ludwig. He’d probably used a level to put up the banner, Feliks snorted to himself. “This,” he loosely pointed around the room, settling his bag on his hip, “needs waaaay more glitter.”
“It’s your fault you weren’t here to decorate - oh yeah - you’re here! It’s awesome that you got to come back for New Year’s this year!”
Feliks grimaced. “If I had to spend one more New Year’s Eve with my family in that hick town, ohmygod, I would die.”
Alfred and Feliks made their way into the kitchen, chatting loudly about nothing of importance, in order to stash Feliks’ beverages. Ludwig poked his head in, said hello, and reminded Alfred that they were supposed to be choosing some records for the evening - Alfred bounded off.
Feliks was making his first drink of the evening, admittedly a little heavy on the vodka, when Nils and Gilbert walked in from the back porch. Nils raised an eyebrow and nodded at his getup, then quirked a lip and said “I like the shoulder things,” before continuing to the living room.
Gilbert just stared, a vaguely concerned look on his face. Feliks shifted his weight to one hip and raised both eyebrows. “What the fuck is this?” Gilbert finally demanded, scowling.
“Please, Gil, you’ve seen me in heels.”
“No, not those - the pajamas or whatever.”
“Pajamas?!” Feliks laughed and took a long drink. “You are such a failure at fashion. It’s a jumpsuit, duh.”
Gilbert frowned. “Yeah, well, it makes you look even more like a girl than you already do.”
“Psh, you’re into it,” Feliks waved, spilling his drink on the floor.
“What? No way! I know you’ve got a dick, unless you’re just stuffing those faggy hot pants of yours.”
“Which means you’ve, like, totally been looking at my crotch.”
“Hey, wait a sec - it’s kinda hard not to, since you leave it all...” Gilbert waved vaguely at Feliks’ lower half, “on display, or some shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know what? Nevermind. I’m way too cool to deal with this bullshit.” Gilbert reached to grab the vodka from Feliks’ hand, but Feliks snatched it away.
“Ohhhh, nuh-uh,” Feliks teased, and feeling the first effects of the alcohol himself, waved the bottle around while sing-songing “Not until you say you’ve toootally been checking me out.”
Gilbert scowled and crossed his arms, then finally tilted his head up and announced that he was gonna go out and buy his own liquor - which would be way better than fuckin’ gross vodka, by the way - and that Feliks could just shove that bottle up his ass.
Feliks’ wild laughter followed him out of the kitchen.
---
LATFF [7b/?]
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-14 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)2) Whooooa was not expecting such intense backlash against Alfred (although you guys going all mamma bear over Ludwig is so cute :D) so lemme just say - he’s rash, and he was drunk, and just needs to THINK before he does stuff; but his being cheery is his defense shield against the world. (Well, that and acting oblivious.) The more he’s backed into a corner emotionally, the more ridiculous he gets. So that he shut up when Ludwig asked him to is saying a lot.
3) DID I SAY I WAS EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE ALREADY? ‘CAUSE YEAH. Also, I really want to draw Natalia and kittens now.
4) I apologize for Ludwig - I gave him a line or two of architecture to talk about and he just ran away and started monologuing on me. Apparently he hates postmodern things far more than I thought he did. And then the person he was talking to got entertained by his ranting and started egging him on! The pretentiousness levels of this fill are over 9000 now thanks to you two!
---
JANUARY
---
“I dunno know why you’re so surprised. I told you he was, like, totally into you,” Feliks sighed at his friend’s thickheadedness.
Alfred shrugged. “Well, whatever, we’re all cool now - you know anyone he could date? I told him I’d ask ya.”
“Whoa, wait a sec,” Feliks started, raising an eyebrow at Alfred. “You want me to set Lud....” he trailed off, looking like he’d just been hit in the head with a heavy object. “Oh. My. God. Alfred, I am retarded.”
“What?! No you’re not - you’re on the honor roll or -”
“No,” Feliks snapped. “I mean I should’ve thought of this back in, like, the fall.”
“Wait - does that mean you know someone?!”
“Oh, I am on this, Al.”
“Aww c’mon, tell me!”
“Psh, no way. You can’t keep your big mouth shut, and I can’t have you totally blabbing my fabulous plan all over the place.”
---
“Alfredo, we need a drummer,” Gilbert announced over coffee in the living room.
Alfred looked over. “Why’s that?”
“Well, our band is awesome,” Gilbert began, “but it’d be even more kickass with a drummer. You’re good with all of that Ableton shit, and I am a guitar god, but we would sound even harsher with some drums.”
“Yeah, okay!” Alfred nodded. “But you’ve gotta find one - I’m kinda busy with school and all right now.”
“Eh, sure. I’ll ask Sadiq if he knows anyone.”
---
Natalia was at a basement house show when she spotted Nils making his way outside, presumably to smoke. She quietly left her friends and slipped out, throwing on her coat on the way - it had been below freezing for nearly three weeks now, and wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. She stepped out and there he was, leaning against the side of the building, smoking and watching it drift through the air and up to the cloudy sky.
“Hey,” she called. She said it quietly, but it seemed loud over the noise of cars on one of the larger streets nearby.
He looked over at her and nodded, then returned to smoking.
She walked up and stood beside him, only resuming her speech when he turned to her again. “I just wanted to apologize. For hitting you, I mean.”
“Um...” he started. He looked really surprised for a moment before his expression slid back into its usual nonchalance. “I was kind of a bastard. I remember thinking I deserved it right after you did it.”
“Yeah, you kind of did,” she smirked.
“Still. I had a valid point,” he sighed and rubbed a gloved hand through his hair before turning and looking up at the sky, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “We should try this again,” he finally said. “So. Tell me about yourself. I already know you like kickass music.”
“Hm,” she frowned and shivered, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Damn, but it was cold. “I go to the university. I’m a sculpture major, dance and business minor. I volunteer at the animal shelter once a week.”
“I go to the university too - mythology,” he nodded. It was quiet for a moment and they both stood there, frowning and shivering, before he added “You dance?” with a raised eyebrow. He tossed his finished cigarette to the side and tried to imagine this girl, cold as ice, unlocking her body long enough to dance. The image wouldn’t come.
LATFF [8b/?]
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-21 01:28 am (UTC)(link)2) Warnings for smut (thanks Antonio and Francis), pretension (thanks Eirik and Francis), headdesk-inducing idiocy (thanks Gilbo!), math/physics nerding out (thanks Feliks and Ludwig), tooth-rotting fluff (thanks...a lot of you), overwhelming fabulousness (hay Feliks, darlin’), and ironic parties (thanks Alfred and Gilbert).
3) I’ve got a bunch of RL stuff comin’ up, and if these chapters continue to be this long, well, updates are gonna be slower. Sorry anons O.o On the other hand you’ll probably get more sketches between, because those things I just doodle on commutes or over breakfast.
4) And, er, where did my OP go? *shrug* Guess we’ll just party without ya, OP.
---
FEBRUARY
---
Lovinia picked up her phone and sighed. “What.”
“Hey so hot stuff. I was thinkin’. You make shit out of clay, right?” Gilbert drawled into the mouthpiece.
“They’re called pots,” Lovinia said, already nearing the end of her patience. She also made bowls, plates, vases - a lot of things - but such subtleties would be lost on this idiot. She didn’t even know why she had picked up the phone.
“Uh-huh. Howbout you teach me how to make some bitchin’ pots? Just you and me, we can get our hands dirty and -”
Click.
Huh. Gilbert looked at the phone and flipped it shut. He guessed she wasn’t into that couple-y activity shit either. Well hey, he was cool with that.
---
“So, I told him that I think Bella likes him, but he’s just so weird about girls,” Natalia frowned, sipping her drink. In what was becoming a weekly tradition, she’d come to Pint-Sized - a casual, intimate, aptly named bar on a side street in a hip part of town - with Ludwig after they were both done in the workshop at school. They’d talked shop and hobbies, and now had consumed a few drinks and were moving on to gossip.
Ludwig nodded. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”
“No,” she laughed. “Yet? You make it sound imperative that I get one. I’m only 19, I don’t need to settle down.”
“I don’t think that ‘settling down’ and ‘having a boyfriend’ are the same,” Ludwig frowned.
“Yeah,” she waved, “I know. But I’d rather focus on art and school right now. I don’t really want to devote my time to a serious relationship - I guess I wouldn’t mind a few flings though - you know?”
“No,” Ludwig shook his head, “I do not.”
“Hm, guess not,” she frowned. “You could stand to lighten up a little, Ludwig.”
“Actually, I have a lot,” he chuckled. At her look of disbelief he added “If you would have met me as a child, or even as a teenager, it is unlikely that you would’ve foreseen that I would turn out like I have.”
“Aw, now I want to see home videos of you as a kid,” she smirked. “But, back to relationships - are you and Berwald serious?”
“Ah...I...suppose,” Ludwig said, unsure, and took a drink. “We’re going out for Valentine’s Day - though on the Saturday after Valentine’s Day,” he frowned.
“Don’t look so upset about it!” Natalia laughed, and smacked his arm for good measure. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”
“Yes. It’s just...”
“It’s just what?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I don’t want it to be very romantic. Is that bad?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, smiling. “Why don’t you?”
“It would just be strange...” Ludwig trailed off, thinking of how to put it. “To do something like that with someone that I really don’t know too well, yet.”
“Don’t worry so much. I mean, I guess I can’t really say that, since I don’t know him - oh, Ludwig!” she cried, tapping the table a few times in her excitement, “Call and see if he’ll come tonight - I’d like to meet him!”
“I - well -” he didn’t see any harm - “okay.” He got out his phone and sighed when he saw that Alfred had changed the name to “BEARwald ;)” again. He really needed to put a password on it.
Berwald picked up with a pleased-sounding “’lo?”
“Um, hello. You...said I should invite you out to drink,” Ludwig said, the last part all in one breath. “And,” he continued, “I’m at Pint-Sized with my friend Natalia, if would would like to come and join us.”
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-21 01:46 am (UTC)(link)More had been added to his cage - through it his movements appeared jerky, were unexpected - silver twists of branches, veining out and around and in. Silver wires, tearing and twirling. Silver cords, silver chains, silver scraps. Silver silver silver.
He jerked a chain around his waist, tightened himself to the wall a little more, made sure his delay pedal didn’t move, though it was duct-taped to the floor (silver) as a precaution. Some more tangled cord drawn up, across his chest, carefully through the heavy weight of Natalia’s sculpture, around his neck, held him down.
The dark ceiling above him was a mesh of interwoven strands of white lights, blinking down through the silver; only his voice was free, spiraling out and resonating through the gallery.
An arm reached in, bound the last of him to the wall, attached and secure.
The gallery lights dimmed and the crowd was drawn in toward the cage, lit by a multitude of silver-bright-white christmas lights, strewn across the ceiling like stars. The lights caught and reflected on bits of metal, glancing off into the crowd and ricocheting in to highlight him in slits and pinpricks through his splintered facade.
A drip of silver paint from began from above him, painted him, stained him, spread out on the floor around him and seeped out into the crowd, slow and searching.
The vocal loops built, over and over and over, coalesced into a melody. A few taps of the delay pedal and he began - a song, a poem, his favorite poem -
- an altered poem turned to song:
i carry your heart with me
i am never without it
i fear
no fate
i want
no world
and it’s you
are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing
is you
is you
is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart
---
“Hey,” Eliza whispered and tapped Matthew in the side.
He turned to see that it was her and nearly dropped his drink. “Hi,” he whispered back.
“Matthew, right?”
He leaned in a little and lowly said “Yeah,” near her ear, overjoyed.
“How are you doing?”
“Eh, good enough,” he laughed a little, under his breath. “And you?”
“Great, thank you.”
They stood like that, close, for a few more moments, before he finally leaned in a little more and whispered “So, would you want to get coffee or something after this? It’s kind of awkward to talk right now.”
“Sure,” she whispered back.
---
After the performance Eduard was seated at a table in the small refreshments area in the back of the gallery, leaning back in his chair, and looking at his homework, stuck. Someone came in, but he didn’t look up. He heard the clack of shoes go past where he was seated, stop abruptly, and finally “Oh my God what-are-you-doing.”
Eduard sighed. Another person teasing him about studying. “Home-”
“No, no, no -” an angry-looking blonde guy set down his drink, snatched the paper closer, and crossed out half of Eduard’s problem, ignoring his horrified expression. “Okay,” he said, slamming the notebook on the table. “You’re taking the partial of x here, yeah? You totally do not need to use the quotient rule on this one.”
“Ahhh....” Eduard started. Okay, so a man in a dress and oxfords had hijacked his homework. A man in a dress and oxfords that showcased his legs nicely. Focus, Eduard, focus. “I don’t?”
“Nuh-uh. Since there’s, like, no x, up here,” the man tapped the page, “just re-write the function -” more scribbles - “like this...instead of having your x3 in the denominator just write it as x-3. Then, like, differentiate with respect to x and you’re gold.”
“Oh,” Eduard paused and looked at the page. “You’re right.” He quickly finished the problem, then turned and smiled up at his tutor. “That’s much less complicated. Thank you....ah... I’m sorry, what is your name?”
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-25 06:20 am (UTC)(link)Yeaaaah.
Ah well. There will be more soon (workin’ on that Tina, yo!). There’s color this time though! Shiny shiny color!
Gah I haven’t colored anything in like a year I hope these don’t suck too hard.Lovinia: http://i55.tinypic.com/e0ojk6.jpg
Hahah I’m pretty sure that’s her standard expression.
Natalia and Bella: http://i51.tinypic.com/f9duno.jpg
Man. Eaters. Bella usually wears lipstick but I can’t really draw lipstick so er oops. She looked better without it -_-;;
And I may as well answer comments here, all in one comment, rather than taking up comment-space. OH OH, speaking of - uh, Part 14 is really filling up fast, yeah? I’m not sure if they’re letting people post stuff in Past-Part Fills for Part 14 yet, so if it looks like it’s gonna close up and I still haven’t heard anything, I’ll just de-anon and leave a link here to my LJ. Sound good?
Okay so comments! ZOMGGGG WHAI SO AWESOME ANONS &hearts&hearts&hearts&hearts&hearts
1) People likely thought Berwald and Ludwig were the ones I meant by “my favorite relationship arc starts in January zomg” buuuut uh. Gil and Lovi! Gil and Lovi! They are are so
fucking psychotichilariously crazy. I mean, Berwald and Ludwig miiiight be my favorite couple (ugh I can’t choose don’t make me) but writing Gil and Lovi’s relationship is such a blast.2) Berwald’s Past will be explained. It’s kind of a big deal to him (for good reason), so yeah. It also puts the postmodernism debate in a new light >:D Ludwig’s might not be, even though I could probably fic his backstory (and Berwald’s, and Eirik’s, and Lili’s, and Francis’) at this point, so if you wanna know that I’ll explain in a comment sometime.
3) Uhhh the setting isn’t actually in a real city. I didn’t want to screw up some detail of a real-life one, so I just kind of made it up. It’s near the American-Canadian border, probably Upper Midwest or East US, around one million people (not all within “city limits”), and the university is a Big Deal. There are three subway lines - Red, Yellow, Blue - derp derp primary colors - and a river that kinda does a North-South S through the town. Adams is a major North-South street that runs up one side of campus, and the Yellow line runs along it for a while before it gets to downtown. Downtown is on the south side of the river, and the numbered streets start above it. Y’know, I’ll just sketch out a map and post it with the next sketch dump.
Urban planning nerd ahoy! You guys know I’m a nerd, right? Right?4) People like Cars in Circles nowai! I grew up in a tiny town in the middle of Appalachia (like I said, part of the reason I love Berwald is because we both talk funny XD) so I’m all about the moonshine and cornbread and and and - Uh. I can kill, skin, and fry a squirrel for you if you want >.>
5) Oh I was afraid people would space out for math :/ Sorry! I’ll try and keep it out of the way if you want.
6) AHAHAHA SPARKLE AND MATH - I laughed FOR-FUCKING-EVER. I want to start a comm for Poland/Estonia called “Sparkle and Math” now XDDDD
7) Roddy and Lili, comin’ right up then :D Seriously, if you guys request stuff, I will do my bestest. I wouldn’t be posting on the Kink Meme if I didn’t want input.
8) The hardest scene for March is already done, so the rest should come along in short order.
I don’t even wanna know how many times I had to use my thesaurus for that one guh. Writing any interaction between those two may as well be like writing poetry. Everything’s so fucking nuanced.I’m pretty sure everyone’s gathered that I write stupidly fast. I feel like I’m forgetting something though - if you’ve got any requests for scenes/events/people you wanna see more of, throw ‘em at me.9) Are those anons who wanted to fill before still out there? I would seriously, 9000%, whole-heartedly fangirl over additional fills. PLEASE.
O YEAH DID I SAY I LOVE YOU GUYS? ‘CUZ I LOVE YOU GUYS. OKAY HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND :D :D :D
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(Anonymous) 2010-10-01 12:18 pm (UTC)(link)2) Whoops, did I say I had some RL stuff coming up? I meant to say RL was gonna bitchslap me. Hanyway.
3) LOLOLOL sup there, lurkers? Mediafire shows me the number of people who download each song - I SEE WUT U DID THAR XD (Also: omgwtf people like the mix tapes sweet.)
4) Also - Roddy and Lili are barely in this one. ;_; I knooooow I knoooow I love them too - but they are everywhere in the next few months, spamming up the fill with their derpy cute fluff times and stuff - and I really needed to get the ball rolling for some other arcs that will happen/continue.
---
MARCH
---
Nils scowled and the straw in his mouth dipped down with it. He entered the last of the inventory into the computer and stabbed the last key down with far more force than necessary.
“Nils, what are you doing to that poor keyboard?” Francis called from across the store, then turned to walk over to him.
“Nothing.”
Francis stopped beside him and raised an eyebrow. “I wish you were still smoking,” he sighed, with a dramatic wave of his hand, “you are so intolerable like this.”
“Intolerable.”
“Yes, I think that is the word. And - stop chewing on those while you’re in here,” Francis chided, snatching the straw from Nils’ lips and tossing it in the trash bin with a curled lip. “This store has a reputation to keep up, you know - and, now that I think of it, stop snapping at customers - I don’t want to have to fire you, beautiful, but it is just...rude.”
Nils looked at Francis, then nodded. He looked at the computer screen a moment before sighing and stating “I wish I was still smoking, too.”
Francis raised his eyebrows for a moment, surprised that Nils was sharing his thoughts on - well, that he was sharing his thoughts at all - then leaned his hip against the desk and gave a gentle smile. “Ah, but I’m sure he thinks it is lovely that you aren’t any longer. Although,” he chuckled and gestured minutely to Nils’ waist, “he might not think that it’s lovely that you’re gaining a few,” he teased, winking at Nils.
Nils stared at Francis for a moment, then looked down, curious, and pulled his shirt up a little. His mind blanked a second - he’d never had an ounce of fat on him in his life - and, well, there it was. Not much, but a little pudge at his hips.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” he snarled, poking at his side.
Francis gave a light laugh as Nils rolled his skin between his fingers, outraged expression on his face. “In my opinion, if you’re going to insist upon quitting - not that that is bad at all, dear, it’s simply that you’ve been so irritable lately - you should at least watch your figure.”
Nils’ furious gaze snapped up to him.
“Perhaps you should pick up some sort of physical activity?” Francis suggested. “Or,” he leered, “more of a certain physical activity.”
Nils closed his eyes and clenched his jaw for a moment. You can’t chew out your boss. You can’t chew out your boss. Even if he’s a fucking pervert who hits on everyone all the damn time.
“You could simply start riding your bike again,” Francis flippantly suggested. “It is nearly spring.”
Nils sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then tugged on the waistband of his jeans. They were a little tighter, weren’t they? “Yeah, I guess so,” he dully replied.
---
“That bastard kissed me in the middle of the station!”
Anja leaned back in the booth and wished for the nth time that you were still allowed to smoke in bars. Huh, apparently Lovinia wanted a response to that last statement, if that expectant glare was anything to go by. Fine, fine. But it wouldn’t be the response she wanted. “And then?” Anja prodded, eyebrow raised.
“...we went to a punk show,” Lovinia muttered. She scowled and finished off her beer. “And then that idiot started a mosh pit and yanked me in.”
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(Anonymous) 2010-10-14 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=55697465#t55697465