never ballpoints [77/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 06:53:22 UTC
He's thinking of resignation. A phone call, a suitcase, himself. Wouldn't he be happier, that way? Wouldn't Arthur? Just-Arthur.
(It is Arthur, in the end. Hasn't it always been.)
Alfred has everything half-packed by the Friday, under his bed, splayed open. Suits, jeans, life. And he's really-really thinking about it, disappearing, phoning up to hand himself away. Nobody would know anything. He could tell them it was family matters, ugly complexities. And he could tell Matt how easily he got bored, y'know, of the same places and the same names.
(He fucked Arthur over.)
And Alfred is thinking this, just of this, desertion. On a Friday, in the afternoon, pumping himself up. It would be so easy. So simple. Life would be so simple. Alfred could work at an office, another school, anywhere
( ... )
never ballpoints [78/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 06:54:41 UTC
Sometimes-because sometimes the need overtakes him, because sometimes, he'd like to see Arthur without that fear-sometimes, Alfred watches Arthur at lunchtime. The window of his office is wide, and convenient, and easy enough to hide behind.
Maybe it's pathetic that it's come to this. Alfred would like to think he could stop, if he wanted. Like-he could leave, after all. If he put his mind to it. He could tease Arthur from himself, the coils of his mind.
Arthur is sitting with someone, a dark smudge of hair beside him. His head is bobbing, the tell-tale snakes of earphones against his jaw. A bookmark, between his fingers, Tolkein on his forearm.
Moments like this are the world, to Alfred. He knows-oh, Alfred knows-he will not get to experience them first-hand, not now.
Not ever. Not after-everything.
Alfred twists them up behind his teeth, to keep, and lets them rot there.
never ballpoints [79/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 06:56:08 UTC
He lets Arthur off that Friday, with a wave of his hand, no eye-contact. Arthur seems almost-surprised, when Alfred smiles, tilts his head. Go on. I'm busy tonight.
He's not busy. There's a meeting due, in the teachers' lounge, but who goes to those? Ha. Alfred will, because he has nothing else to do today. He makes bad coffee and bad conversation with Mr. Braginski, and thinks of Arthur, there, in the strange muzz between day and evening.
He thinks of-Francis, and Arthur, the anger it provokes in him. How it shouldn't. How Alfred got there first, and that matters, the limp, the marks. How Alfred shouldn't be thinking about this, the sickness that winds deep, when he's in company, because he can feel how his jaw goes tight. Because it is obvious, in the way Braginski frowns at him.
Ms. Héderváry is complaining, not subtly, in the corner. Alfred lets himself listens over Braginski's empty threats.
"-working weekends again," he hears. Someone tuts. "I swear, I better be getting a raise. I can't remember the last time I had a real
( ... )
never ballpoints [80/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 06:57:06 UTC
Alfred is given a list of troublemakers before Saturday night, a number of marks beside each one. Three strikes equals detention. Six are a phone call home. Would you believe it-Francis is teetering on five, Arthur three. He remembers-though it takes a moment to pull back-that Arthur's other room mate is that boy he saw him with, dark hair, Spanish.
Fernandez. A matching five with Francis.
Alfred smiles. Doesn't everything just fit.
-
By the time it is lights out (a vague term; it is not literally lights out, but a suggestion to be quiet, please) Alfred is finding his way around Arthur's corridor, a plan seeded under his scalp. It's all a matter of waiting. Alfred might not have patience, but he's determined, half-way in love and all-way fucked up
( ... )
Re: never ballpoints [80/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 07:24:43 UTC
Oh, anon, you have no idea how happy I am. I thought this fill would never be continued and my soul died a little at that idea. This is one of my favourite stories in the meme and one of those I have re-read multiple times.
I don't think I have enough words to explain how perfect this is, how terrifying it is to be in Alfred's mine where everything makes sense and yet everything is so intrinsically wrong.
It takes a lot of talent to make a human paedophile and child rapist and you have succeeded where many others have failed. There's an unavoidable and unadulterated horror in what Alfred is and yet you kept him 3D and real.
Re: never ballpoints [80/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 15:13:52 UTC
OMG I just checked this fill yesterday and very sad that it didn't update And today! Still a wonderful update~ Hope to see another update soon XD
Well yeah, I suck at making comments, just want to let you know that I love this fill and I hope you can finish it. No matter how long it takes I would wait for you TAT
Re: never ballpoints [80/?]
anonymous
February 14 2011, 15:37:28 UTC
that said, you're Alfred is as magnificent as ever, all twistedly in love and desperate. ;A; I've really missed this writing anon! no one conveys these kinds of feelings as well as you. please tell me Alfred does something really drastic next we'll always be waiting, anon! <3
Re: never ballpoints [80/?]
anonymous
February 16 2011, 06:18:47 UTC
Author!Anon, I have been waiting for this!!! Thank you for not dropping it! It hits all the wrong places in the worst possible ways. But I just can't turn away from it!
This... This...! (x_x)
anonymous
February 22 2011, 04:57:33 UTC
AuthorAnon, this fill is absolutely awesome. Your writing style in this story is amazing and incredibly effective. The rhythm, the word choice, the imagery, the descriptions… I was completely immersed in the story from top to bottom. Plus, your decision to write from Alfred's point of view makes the whole thing very intense and interesting - in a terrifying way. The realism is both heartbreaking and sickening.
In the first chapters, I felt pity for Alfred, because you made him so alive and lovable, and the poor guy was fighting so hard against his twisted urges that it was hard not to be sorry for him despite his creepy ways, especially since he himself knew that what he was thinking was oh so wrong. But then he started doing instead of just thinking, and it was gone. All that remained was disgust and distress. Disgust because no one should make a child suffer this kind of horror (I honestly felt nauseous while reading the latest chapters… oh god, poor Arthur!), and distress because it is painful to witness a loved character become
( ... )
parts 57 - 76: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15769.html?thread=49564825#t49564825
original request: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15068.html?thread=43003612#t43003612
Let's assume we're at a prestigious private boarding all-boys high school ( ... )
Reply
(It is Arthur, in the end. Hasn't it always been.)
Alfred has everything half-packed by the Friday, under his bed, splayed open. Suits, jeans, life. And he's really-really thinking about it, disappearing, phoning up to hand himself away. Nobody would know anything. He could tell them it was family matters, ugly complexities. And he could tell Matt how easily he got bored, y'know, of the same places and the same names.
(He fucked Arthur over.)
And Alfred is thinking this, just of this, desertion. On a Friday, in the afternoon, pumping himself up. It would be so easy. So simple. Life would be so simple. Alfred could work at an office, another school, anywhere ( ... )
Reply
Maybe it's pathetic that it's come to this. Alfred would like to think he could stop, if he wanted. Like-he could leave, after all. If he put his mind to it. He could tease Arthur from himself, the coils of his mind.
Arthur is sitting with someone, a dark smudge of hair beside him. His head is bobbing, the tell-tale snakes of earphones against his jaw. A bookmark, between his fingers, Tolkein on his forearm.
Moments like this are the world, to Alfred. He knows-oh, Alfred knows-he will not get to experience them first-hand, not now.
Not ever. Not after-everything.
Alfred twists them up behind his teeth, to keep, and lets them rot there.
Reply
He's not busy. There's a meeting due, in the teachers' lounge, but who goes to those? Ha. Alfred will, because he has nothing else to do today. He makes bad coffee and bad conversation with Mr. Braginski, and thinks of Arthur, there, in the strange muzz between day and evening.
He thinks of-Francis, and Arthur, the anger it provokes in him. How it shouldn't. How Alfred got there first, and that matters, the limp, the marks. How Alfred shouldn't be thinking about this, the sickness that winds deep, when he's in company, because he can feel how his jaw goes tight. Because it is obvious, in the way Braginski frowns at him.
Ms. Héderváry is complaining, not subtly, in the corner. Alfred lets himself listens over Braginski's empty threats.
"-working weekends again," he hears. Someone tuts. "I swear, I better be getting a raise. I can't remember the last time I had a real ( ... )
Reply
Fernandez. A matching five with Francis.
Alfred smiles. Doesn't everything just fit.
-
By the time it is lights out (a vague term; it is not literally lights out, but a suggestion to be quiet, please) Alfred is finding his way around Arthur's corridor, a plan seeded under his scalp. It's all a matter of waiting. Alfred might not have patience, but he's determined, half-way in love and all-way fucked up ( ... )
Reply
I don't think I have enough words to explain how perfect this is, how terrifying it is to be in Alfred's mine where everything makes sense and yet everything is so intrinsically wrong.
It takes a lot of talent to make a human paedophile and child rapist and you have succeeded where many others have failed. There's an unavoidable and unadulterated horror in what Alfred is and yet you kept him 3D and real.
Thank you, anon, for this marvellous experience.
A faithful fan.
Reply
Anon, the link to previous parts links to Sweet Child of Mine
Reply
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Go to sleep? <3
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Reply
Don't worry, author!anon; I'm just glad you're back. Life happens to us, too, so I understand. Glad school and/or work didn't eat you alive! XD
Reply
I just checked this fill yesterday and very sad that it didn't update
And today!
Still a wonderful update~
Hope to see another update soon XD
Well yeah, I suck at making comments, just want to let you know that I love this fill and I hope you can finish it. No matter how long it takes I would wait for you TAT
Reply
that said, you're Alfred is as magnificent as ever, all twistedly in love and desperate. ;A; I've really missed this writing anon! no one conveys these kinds of feelings as well as you. please tell me Alfred does something really drastic next we'll always be waiting, anon! <3
Reply
Reply
In the first chapters, I felt pity for Alfred, because you made him so alive and lovable, and the poor guy was fighting so hard against his twisted urges that it was hard not to be sorry for him despite his creepy ways, especially since he himself knew that what he was thinking was oh so wrong. But then he started doing instead of just thinking, and it was gone. All that remained was disgust and distress. Disgust because no one should make a child suffer this kind of horror (I honestly felt nauseous while reading the latest chapters… oh god, poor Arthur!), and distress because it is painful to witness a loved character become ( ... )
Reply
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