Geldmann

"he's pushing the law degree because I suggested taking up a law degree. He's using her to pit us against each other. When you're older, you'll understand"

"Ludwig, I'm not a fucking child. If you have something to explain, just get out with it. I don't need your patronizing, 'You'll understand when you're older' bullshit."

"I am explaining it, but I'm tired and on a caffeine depression and going through nicotine withdrawal. I don't have the time or patience to explain everything to you"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever. As if that's not what you always say," he muttered. "Do you really not feel any concern over this at all?"

"he's pushing the law degree because I suggested taking up a law degree. He's using her to pit us against each other. When you're older, you'll understand"

"Ludwig, I'm not a fucking child. If you have something to explain, just get out with it. I don't need your patronizing, 'You'll understand when you're older' bullshit."

#hws america #hws canada #hws england #hws france #lmao #Okay I love the way they drew England though. Amazing. Perfect. 10/10. Don't change a thing.

rzhkch

Happy family 👨‍🍼👨‍🍼

"you can't save a person who insisted on swimming without a lifeguard," he said simply as he scrubbed away. "You have to let her make her own choices"

"I know, I know. But, come on. There's something going on, and I don't like it. I mean, he's literally killed her in the past. Now we're just supposed to believe he suddenly grew a paternal heart towards her? And there's that whole law degree he's pushing her into. Something isn't adding up here. Aren't you bothered by it at all?"

"what, you tried to seduce my husband?"

He blinked and then sort of grinned. "Nah. Okay, it's not that level of bad." He groaned and sat up straight. "I got in a fight with Lily. About the old bastard. Kind of said something I shouldn't have to her." He rubbed the inner corners of his eyes.

"I don't know if you've heard from her recently. But apparently she's started calling the old git, 'Papa.' And she also apparently hugged him and didn't die. I tried to tell her it's gotta be a lie. There's no way he's letting her do that out of the goodness of his heart. But she wouldn't listen. So I...kind of snapped at her. Maybe, sort of...told her to go suck his dick." He groaned again and ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, I fucked up there."

What sibling hasn't snapped at another sibling before? And why wasn't Ludwig an only child? He missed the man he was 100 years ago when he didn't have any nonsense to deal with.

"Why can't you simply ignore him?"

"I try to! I live my life so he gave up on trying to get me to comply with anything. I usually don't give him the time of day. But then this happens, and..." He gestured. "Come on. You know he's gotta be plotting something, right? You've known him the longest out of the three of us. Since when has he ever been that lenient on affection?"

"look," he started as he turned back to the oven, spraying a heavy layer of grease remover over everything. "You can't do anything. Pick up a non destructive hobby, cut back on the drugs, find a steady partner, and change your door locks. He's never going to come around, I've been trying all my life and all he's given me is grey hair"

He put his hand over his face and groaned. "You're missing the point. This isn't about trying to change him. I know that's a lost cause. This is about Lily. I'm worried about her. He's pulling her in deeper for some reason I can't figure out yet. And she's embracing it. But if I try to tell her that, it pushes her closer to him. I especially can't tell her now."

"what, you tried to seduce my husband?"

What sibling hasn't snapped at another sibling before? And why wasn't Ludwig an only child? He missed the man he was 100 years ago when he didn't have any nonsense to deal with.

"Why can't you simply ignore him?"

"what, you tried to seduce my husband?"

"worse than the stove?" He tried to joke. "Should I get a pistol or a bottle of schnapps?"

Thankfully Alex had sat on a kitchen chair which wouldn't hold his club smell

"Schnapps. If you get the pistol, I'm worried you might shoot me after I tell you what happened."

He stopped pinching his nose and settled for staring up at the ceiling.

@paperworkanddogs

He reeks of the club and looks all the worse for wear. But at least he's not stumbling around. "I need to talk to you."

Every family member is trying to climb up his ass.

"should I put the kettle on?" He asked as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag. Berlitz stood nearby, sniffing Alex' legs intently

He collapsed into the nearest chair with a huge sigh. He ignored the dogs while he leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, sure, I guess." Another sigh. A pause. Then, "I really fucked up."

@paperworkanddogs

He reeks of the club and looks all the worse for wear. But at least he's not stumbling around. "I need to talk to you."

#mun's art #just putting this on Alex's blog too because well duh

mauerfrau

Happy 80th Birthday to the two best Berliners you'll ever meet. ^w^

Argument

A/N: This is taking place shortly after my story that can be found here. For full context, read that and the accompanying rp first.

The muffled sounds of techno-beats and drunken cheers from down below temporarily became loud as the door to the private office was opened and Alexander stepped inside. He was shirtless, but wore tight, blue leather pants, and was covered in glitter. He was carrying two full beer bottles, one of which was offered to his sister who was lounging on his couch, staring at her phone, which she pocketed once she saw the beer.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a swig of it.

Alex grinned and set his down on his desk. He took out the silicone earplugs he wore when he didn’t want his extra sharp hearing to be overwhelmed by the loud club noises. “You’re welcome. You know, I’ve been thinking of banning phones in the club. I think it would make the atmosphere cooler, don’t you agree?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “You say that every month, but you never go through with it. You’re too worried people will compare this place to Berghain if you do.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just tired of seeing them everywhere here. People seem to enjoy them more than the music and dancing.”

“Sounds like you need better music and dancing then, old man.”

“Don’t start calling me ‘old man,’ when you’re technically the older twin.”

“Then stop complaining about the youths like an 80 year old. Oh, wait,” she said with a smirk, “You are an 80 year old man now.”

“You’re 80 years old too.”

“I’m 80 years young. There’s a difference.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Whatever you said, Old Maid.” He picked up his beer and joined her on the couch, not worried at all about the glitter that would now set up permanent housing in the crevices. “So, what brings you to my lair tonight? You usually only interrupt a party when you need something bad. You’re not in debt to a crime boss again, are you?”

“That was one time when I was 60, and that gun was worth it.”

He grinned and shook his head. “If you say so. But seriously, what’s up?” he asked, taking a drink.

“It’s about Dad,” she said.

Alex coughed and sputtered beer. He pounded his chest with one fist and kept coughing until the liquid was out of his windpipe. He gasped for air and looked at her incredulously. She raised an eyebrow in silence.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, “did you just say ‘Dad’? You’re not referring to the old bastard, are you? Please tell me you’ve just finally decided to acquire some old rich fart as a sugar daddy.”

Lily frowned. “No, I’m talking about Dad. Our dad. Our father? Herr Beilschmidt? Why?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His brow creased. “Why are you calling him, ‘Dad,’ all of a sudden? Since when was that a thing? You’ve always called him, ‘Herr Beilschmidt,’ or, ‘Sir,’ or even sometimes, ‘Father,’ but never ‘Dad.’ What’s next? Are you going to tell me that you hugged him too?”

She blinked. “How did you know?”

His jaw dropped and he stared at her in disbelief. “You didn’t. You’re lying. This is some weird joke of yours. You’d be dead if you hugged him.”

She frowned and sat up straight. “It’s not a joke, Alex. I really did hug him. Twice! He was fine with it. Mostly. I mean, he said I have to ask first and keep it private, but he was okay with it. And he said I could start calling him, ‘Dad.’”

He blinked several times. He looked down at his beer, and then back up at her. He set the beer down on the coffee table in front of them. He clasped his hands together and leaned towards her. “Lily, please, I’m begging you. Just tell me you’re joking. Pull out the hidden cameras and put it on YouTube to go viral. I don’t care. Just please, please tell me this isn’t true.”

Lily’s frown deepened. “I’m not joking. Why is it so hard to believe?”

He looked at her in a mixture of dismay and astonishment. “Why is it…Lily, have you met the man you’re talking about? Herr ‘Respect-Me-Or-Die’? He’s literally killed you. Twice! And you want me to believe that now he’s letting you hug him and call him, ‘Dad’?” When he saw on her face that she wasn’t joking around, he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t…why? Just tell me. Why are you doing that? What the fuck is your endgame with this?”

“I don’t have an endgame, Alex,” she said, sounding far more annoyed now. “I just want to be closer to him. And why shouldn’t I? He is my dad. I deserve to call him that and give him hugs.”

“If he were a normal, healthy parent, I’d agree. But after everything he’s done to you? You want to be closer to him? You should be trying to get out of his influence!”

“He’s not perfect, I know. He has hurt me, a lot. But everything he’s done, he’s done out of a duty to us, to make us stronger and better for the world. His methods aren’t good, but his intentions–”

“Lily,” he interrupted, “You didn’t just drink the damn Kool-Aid, you’re fucking drowning in it! Listen to yourself. He doesn’t do things out of a duty to us! He doesn’t have good intentions! Everything, everything he’s ever done has been solely to serve himself. He’s a selfish old bastard who just wants to keep you around for his own weird gain. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s plotting something creepy to do with you, or some way he can use you to come back from the brink of death.”

“Shut up, Alex!” she yelled. She slammed the beer bottle on the coffee table, nearly shattering it, and stood up. She crossed her arms. “Just shut up, okay! You don’t know anything!”

“I was there! I grew up under him! I know what he’s like!”

“No! No, you weren’t there! You went off and got to play make-believe in the West, while I did all the real work back home. And guess who was there for me. Not you! It was my dad! And guess who was there for me in the 90s, when it all went to shit because of your precious Western pigs! Not you again! It was him! And guess who was there for me just the other day, when the other Prussia attacked me and tried to kill me. Also not you! It was him! He killed to keep me safe, even though it puts a target on his back! He’s always been the one there for me, not you!”

“Oh, well, why don’t you just go suck his dick then, like you’ve always wanted!”

The slap that followed was so hard, it sounded like the crack of a whip.

Alex blinked in shock. He raised a hand up to his cheek and rubbed the sore spot. He looked at his still enraged sister, who had tears welling up in her eyes now. His expression crumbled. “Lily, I didn’t mean that. I just–”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice cracking. She glared for a few seconds more, and then stormed out of the room. The slam of the door made Alex wince.

He stared at the door for a moment more, hoping she would come back and accept his apology. But he knew better. With a sigh, he stood up, picking up his beer as he did. He downed the whole thing in a gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he did the same with hers. Why let it go to waste? He shuffled to his desk to grab his earplugs, and then left the room, going back downstairs to rejoin the eternal party where he could forget everything that just happened for a night.

#mun's writing #ah the plot thickens #long post

I arch a brow at his little performance—the kind of smirk, the closeness, the hand brushing my jawline. Subtlety clearly isn't one of Berlin’s strengths. He wields his charm like a sledgehammer. Runs in the family, I think to myself and don’t flinch, but I don’t encourage him either. I simply exhale slowly through my nose and take another sip of my water, letting the silence speak louder than anything else would. Not that I’m shocked. He’s not the first to try that move, certainly not the first with paint-stained fingers and a preference for flirtation over self-restraint.

"Tempting," I say, dryly, like one might comment on a dessert they’re not in the mood for yet. "But I’m still technically on duty. And I don’t make it a habit to mix state business with after-hours pleasures. Even if the offer is...something."

A sudden bang echoes from upstairs. My instincts tighten in that split second, like something is about to go wrong. I straighten up out of habit, until the sound resolves into laughter and steps. Friends, not threats. Still, I don’t exhale in relief. Instead, my eyes scan for exits as the first guests file into the studio, each one looking like a walking caricature of a Pinterest moodboard of Berlin.

I give a curt nod as if confirming Alex’s words and turn, offering neither a handshake nor letting myself get dragged into one of those ridiculous French-style cheek-kissing routines. “No. Partying with artists is definitely a first for me,” I say, voice edging with sarcasm. Ah, blissful youth—always convinced it’s the first to discover sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll, as if the world began with them. Meanwhile, old man Rome already threw better parties before their ancestors learned to walk upright.

I pull out my phone and check for updates. Nothing. A low growl rumbles in my throat as I lean back against the wall. So Lily figures a quick text to him counts as keeping us both in the loop? Or maybe he’s playing me—this whole laid-back artist charade a smokescreen to throw me off, lull me into safety with the vague promise that she’s on her way.

I lift my bottle, about to finish the last sip, when a hand swaps it for a fresh beer. “Cheers,” a woman says brightly, tapping her bottle against mine. “So, what’s your act tonight? Anti-social grandpa? Sexually-repressed bureaucrat?”

I exhale sharply and give her a look. She’s almost unremarkable, if it weren’t for the metal lacing half her face, and the rest of her skin disappearing under ink. “And you? Trying out for I’m-14-and-this-is-deep?” I deadpan, quoting one of those internet memes that somehow keeps infecting my feed.

“So, both,” she shoots back, just enough bite in her voice to make it fun.

I smirk, glancing down at the beer now in my hand. Might as well drink it—anything else feels wasteful. And technically, beer is just water and vegetables. I take a sip and let my eyes wander over the room.

The gathering moves with that chaotic rhythm artists seem to find instinctive—no structure, no direction, just bodies and sound and half-formed ideas colliding in bursts of color. There’s laughter, shouting, the clang of bottles and forks on mismatched plates, stories flying without needing context.

And me? I don’t belong here. I never do, in rooms like this.

But I’ve been in stranger places.

#mephistosfaust #if you need me to edit anything like Ludwig's reactions just let me know #I tried to keep them just simple and vague enough to not be god modding but still move the story along just a bit

Alex seemingly didn't hear Ludwig's responses as the guests started to create their own noises. He did, actually, as his hearing was as sharp as Lily's sense of smell. But he liked to pretend he was average in it. An old habit, to keep people from being suspicious. When he did look back over, Ludwig was drinking his beer. He came closer.

"Ah, so now we are mixing pleasure and business? What got you to change your mind?"

Just then, Ludwig would receive a text from Lily.

[[I'm so sorry. Something came up. And I have no idea why my father is in my place. But you did the right thing, going with Alex. Stay with him, please. I'll explain everything as soon as I'm there. On my way right now.]]

Alex drank a beer as he watched Ludwig read and react to the text. He raised his eyebrows briefly. He gave Ludwig a look over up and down. "You know, she..." He paused and then frowned, then shook his head and waved a hand. "Ah, never mind. That's not really for me to tell."

He put a hand on Ludwig's shoulder, as though he were suddenly the man's father. Except, he was grinning. "Have some fun here. Unwind a little. You deserve it. The only rule here is to have fun." He gave Ludwig's shoulder a tight squeeze as he winked and then he walked away to join another group.

As he did, another woman, more sophisticated looking and older than the one from earlier, slid up to Ludwig's side. She linked an arm around his. "You're so stiff. Here," she said, her voice dripping with a French accent. She held up a small bag of what looked like gummy candy. "Just take one though, if you don't want to be flying in the rafters right away."

When Ludwig refused, she shrugged and shoved them in her pocket. "Suit yourself."

Another text came in from Lily.

[[I'm almost there. Had to dodge someone.]]

The woman read the text as he did. "Oooo, is that Alex's sister? You dating her? You don't seem like her type, but maybe you're more wild in the dark than you seem." She laughed. "Have you seen her in leather yet? Or is she saving that for when you're really bad?"

Just then, the door above opened, and a single pair of footsteps could be heard rushing down the steps. As soon as she came into view, Lily stopped where she was, though only for a moment, as she spotted Ludwig without trouble. She then leapt over the railing and ran to him. Her hair was disheveled, and she had scratches and bruises and tears in her clothing.

"Ludwig. Thank fuck you're alright." She frowned, as if just noticing the other woman, who was now leaning her head on Ludwig's shoulder and sticking her tongue out at her. "Oh, go away, Margo," she said as she peeled her off and shoved her away. "He's not going to be your sugar daddy. And I'm not fucking you tonight either." She put a hand on Ludwig's upper arm and pulled him away from the pouting Frenchwoman.

"Ludwig, Ludwig, I'm so sorry. Everything's been chaos today. But you're okay, right? I mean, you weren't hurt or anything?"

I take another drag of my cigarette, exhaling slowly as I hum under my breath. “Personal, eh?” I murmur, though I know there’s rarely anything truly personal when it comes to nations. Sooner or later, it all ends up in some history book. That barbed-wire-socialist-fairytale-Biermann crap—well, if it helps people make peace with their past, who am I to judge? God knows I’ve got my own ghosts, and if you asked Dr. Wagner, she’d probably favor me painting mandalas over getting flogged at some BDSM club.

I shrug and lift the cigarette back to my lips just as Alex starts explaining what he actually does for a living. I inhale sharply, then slap my chest with a fist, coughing as I suppress a stifled laugh. “I’m sorry to break it to you,” I say, my tone edged with irony, “but there’s no way you can compete with the South. And it isn’t even about work ethics. It’s about space. You might consider joining a state with old Brandenburg. He’s terrible on his feet anyway and definitely probably overdue for some elderly care. Maybe a new, old hobby for your father,” I joke, half-serious. In fact, talks of fusing both states have been going on since the ’90s, and so far they could only agree one thing: Prussia as a name is off the list. But with things shifting so swiftly to the right, who knows… Wouldn’t be the first time the old bastard plots in a back-room.

I clear my throat and welcome water offered to me. I nod, offering a brief thanks and walk over to the ashtray to stub out my cigarette before having a sip. “I don’t see myself as a victim of politics. It’s not some obligation. It’s simply who I am. People sometimes act as if Aristotle or Machiavelli or Hegel had nothing to say. A nation is built on a system that keeps its parts together. Sure, heads of state come and go—as do the very ideas that gave them power in the first place. But…and I know this might sound confusing given who ran this country in the past, but I’ve never felt completely alienated.” I circle the sofa and lean against the back of it. “They are my people as well,” I add, followed by another shrug. “So yes, if possible I like to keep track of most things going on. I suppose I fancy myself a chief negotiator, overseeing domestic affairs as well as EU and foreign policy. And since charm’s never really been my strongest soft power, you could say I tend to specialize in whatever guarantees me a solid foothold in this world. Also known as my economy.” Needless to say, even after decades of so-called cooperation, France still doesn’t trust me with the delicate side of diplomacy. Too blunt, too forceful, too much like my brother. And yet, after hosting his glittering soirées, he’s more than happy to hand me the bill to cover for him.

I snort, take another sip, then glance at Alex, giving him a once-over. My hand stays wrapped around the bottle, but I lift my pinky slightly, gesturing at him. “But I assume you’re off duty quite often yourself. Now that we’ve agreed Berlin is poor, I might still need a little more convincing on the sexy part. So what else do you do when you aren’t forced to work?”

#mephistosfaust #so apparently I can't write him flirting with Lud without laughing to myself #I hope you don't mind how it is. Just let me know if I need to edit anything ;u;

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, waving a hand as he did. "I meant more just one where we don't have to keep borrowing money. I'd like to see us not be in debt one day."

As he listened to Ludwig, he nodded along. His answer was what he had come to expect from him. But when Ludwig finished, he raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. "Oh. Well, if it's sexy you're after...I have other outfits that might suit your taste better. Or, we could just strip now." He set his water down on the table and came close to Ludwig, well within his personal space. He lowered his voice. "You wouldn't be the first man in a tight suit I've seduced before, you know. Though, you might be the first from another world." He ran his finger along Ludwig's jawline. "Just say the word, and I'll give you an evening to never forget."

Just then, the bang of the door upstairs was heard. He stepped away and looked up as the sound of several footsteps could be heard approaching. He backed up from Ludwig and then looked at him with a smile and a laugh. "Ah, I forgot. My friends are here to have a little gettogether. You don't mind, do you? I can take you somewhere quieter if you prefer."

A thin man dressed all in black, despite the heat, was the first to come down the stairs. His mustache lifted with his lips as he smiled at Alex and lifted the packs of beer in his hands. "Alex!" he shouted in a thick Berlin accent. He set the beer down and embraced his friend, kissing him on the cheeks. Then, he seemed to notice Ludwig. "Ah, did we come at a bad time? Not one of your business deals? Or is at 'business deal,'" he added with a wink and a laugh.

Alex shook his head. "Markus, please. This man is Ludwig. He's here for my sister, but she's gone dark for a bit. That's all."

As they spoke, other men, women, and a few nonbinary people came into the room and set their food and alcohol down on any available counter space. Alex looked at his phone and saw a message from Lily. He texted her back quickly. Then he looked at Ludwig. "Might not be too long till she finds you, actually," he said. "Might as well stay here for a bit and have some fun. You ever partied with artists before?"

The sun’s already sinking behind the concrete bones of Berlin when we leave the café. The air hums with that dry late-summer heat, and the sidewalks carry a familiar restlessness. I follow Alex through winding streets that seem to blur the lines between reality and stage design. It’s still Berlin, although this version of it feels just a touch more theatrical.

His studio is tucked into what used to be an old industrial building. Perhaps an old butcher’s shop, judging by the cracked tiles still running up the walls in the stairwell. How cliché Inside, it smells faintly of oil paint and turpentine, maybe a hint of something stronger. A large loft space opens up, tall windows filtered through gauzy curtains, canvases leaning against walls like half-told stories before it goes down the basement.

I place my briefcase beside the sofa and unbutton my suit jacket, loosening the tie just a bit. I don’t take the offer to sit though. Instead, I light a cigarette, the first drag sharp and grounding. Smoke curls between my fingers as I begin pacing—slow, deliberate steps—taking in the paintings. I’m not an artist, never claimed to be. That’s more Italy’s territory. Or France’s. They feel things in brushstrokes. I prefer words. Structure. Logic.

Still. I enjoy the act of looking. It’s a quiet kind of voyeurism—an invitation to interpret what someone else refuses to say aloud. Renaissance everyday life, romantic landscapes, modern pieces that look like the product of a migraine. And yet, even those… there's something to them. A feeling that lingers.

At one point, I crouch slightly and lift the edge of a canvas draped in cloth. Just enough to glimpse the color bleeding through. Before I can pull further, Alex clears his throat behind me.

“Water is just fine,” I tell him with a short wave of the hand, cutting off his offer for something prohibited. I’m still technically on duty. And the last thing I need is to be stoned in a version of Berlin that feels like the lovechild of Weimar excess and the Berlin Biennale partying on a CSD truck.

I gesture toward the veiled canvas but let the cover fall back into place. “What are you hiding? Nudes?” I ask, only half-joking, a smirk tugging at the edge of my mouth. I don’t push further though. If he wanted it seen, he wouldn’t have covered it up in the first place.

I return to standing near the sofa, tapping ash neatly into a tray. “So, tell me,” I say, exhaling slowly, “what kind of job is it you’re actually doing here? As Berlin’s representative. Aside from painting and hosting old men from parallel realities.”

#mephistosfaust #Steff I swear if you make me have to try to actually talk about Berlin's economy here I might cry. ;A;

After being sure that Ludwig wasn't going to go poking around where he shouldn't, Alex walked over to a mini fridge by a paint-stained sink. He pulled out two cold bottles of mineral water and walked one over to his guest. "It's a personal piece, for Lily's and my 80th birthday next month. It's not finished though." He shrugged a little. "I just don't like showing it off before it's done."

Ludwig might be able to guess at the painting though, if he paid attention the ones that were visible. Many had birds that were either trapped or breaking free of their confinements. Some were black and white, while others sported colors brighter than the artist's own skirt. Barbed wire was another common motif, often lingering threateningly in some corner or other of a painting.

Alex opened his bottle and took a good gulp of the water. "I work in Berlin's IHK. I know, I don't look the part right now. But I clean up when it's time to work. I also own this place, and a club. I'd like to see Berlin have a thriving economy one day. Maybe one to finally make Bavaria shut up." He gave a long sigh. "But, you know, there's always something holding us back. Like that damn airport."

"They like to have me host the important guests a lot of the time. So, I do a lot of social engagement. I don't mind, really. I think I have a knack for it. But it's also nice to retreat from it." He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a package of cigarettes, lighting one up for himself. He watched the smoke rise up with his first exhale of it.

"Let's see, you work in the Chancellery in your world, right? Do you take care of everything they shove under your nose, or do you try to specialize a bit?" In truth, Lily had told him a lot about the man standing before him. But he felt it better to ask questions and let him feel like he had more control over the situation. This wasn't some old Stasi interrogation after all. He could leave that to his sister.

He nodded. "Right. She said something about meeting you after doing a...'job.' Usually, that means she's going to show up bloodied, bruised, and grinning like a cat that just escaped with its last life. I can let her know you're with me here." He pulled out his phone and shot her a quick text. No response came yet, but he didn't expect it to so soon. He put his phone face down on the table for now.

Ludwig's questions elicited a long sigh from Alex. His face grew dark, and he drank most of his beer before he would answer. "No, I wouldn't say he did. In fact, he kind of preferred me for a while. Well, I was a boy, after all. Though, that didn't stop him from showing her affection when she did do better than me. Which just made her want it more. She pushed herself all the time for him, but he'd only acknowledge it when she was at the top. And even then, there was always some bit of criticism with it.

"I think things must have changed when I went West. I wasn't a defector, mind you. I was still as loyal as her. But I was out of the house and away from him, and he must have started giving her more attention. I don't really know much of what happened while I was away though. Just that, when I came back to visit now and then, she was happier, but also fiercer, more determined than ever to be a perfect capital. There was a weird tension between us too, but nothing happened until she was dating Thomas, and we got into a bad fight. We didn't talk much after that for a while.

"Then, the Wall came down, and everything kind of went to shit for her. She expected to die every day. And we still didn't get along. I embraced a lot of what West Germany brought to us. She didn't want any part of it. And I think that drove her closer to the old bastard. When no one else was around for her at that crucial moment, he was. Just as he'd always been." Another sigh, and he looked at the building outside the window. "He's not stupid, you know. He knows how to give the carrot as well as the stick. He told her all the things she wanted to hear and then gave her a mission to save himself and her. And when she succeeded, he rewarded her with affection and approval, albeit privately. She's always been chasing that high, and he knows just how and when to give it to her. She could never take up drugs, because he's the ultimate one she wants. And he knows it. He keeps her close because she's probably the last one of us who will still want him now. And now he's focused on molding her to be exactly what he wants. Did she tell you he's sending her to study law soon?"

He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table. "You know, this isn't the first time he's killed her. The other time he did it, she was just a kid. Got caught up in the feelings of the '53 Uprising and was seen throwing bricks at tanks. Oh, to say he was pissed is an understatement. I don't think I've ever seen him that mad, even at me now. I keep hoping maybe this time will make things different. Maybe now, she'll stop wanting him. But I can't tell yet. She hides things and plots and plays the long game. Maybe she's putting him at ease for now until she figures out a plan, or maybe she's still chasing that high. I don't know. But something you said changed something in her. Of that, I'm certain."

The words flow from him easily, too easily. Like he’s been waiting for someone—anyone—to finally ask. His voice weaves the story of Lily and their father, their mess of a childhood, all those twisted bonds that still haven’t snapped. I hear him, every word, but I’m not sure I want to.

This conversation… it got too personal, too fast.

I could say I didn’t see that coming, but that would be a lie. I brought it upon myself. Like always. Ever since she stepped into my path back in the early ’90s, everything’s spiraled. She became part of my world, whether I liked it or not. Not that I mind her, really. She’s irritating in the way younger siblings often are—a bit too noisy, a bit too eager to prove herself, and far too invested in people who don’t deserve it.

I shift slightly in my seat, feel the nervousness rise up from somewhere in my chest, tightening around my ribs. It’s not his words—it’s what they poke at. What they stir. What I don’t want to examine too closely. I take a slow breath, pretending it’s nothing, pretending I’m just listening. But my fingers betray me. They start tracing the rim of my glass, slow circles, again and again. The glass is damp with condensation. Cold. It steadies me, barely.

I kept telling myself I had enough to carry on shoulders. That I couldn’t carry someone else. But that night, I did. Out of pity, maybe. Out of pride, certainly. Out of something close to love—not the kind that burns or binds, but the kind that makes you put yourself between someone and the blow meant for them. I stepped in. I didn’t think. I just did it. Like an older brother should have. Like maybe she always hoped someone would.

“My words changed something in her?” I hear him say. It sticks in my head. Echoes. Maybe I even nod slightly. Maybe not. I don’t know anymore.

My fingers keep moving.

Maybe that’s what responsibility is. The real kind. Not just owning your mistakes and standing for consequences—that part I know. That part was beaten into me. Say yes, sir and thank you, sir, and take the punishment. Nod. Correct. Endure. I can do that. I’ve always done that.

But stepping in for someone else? Holding a line not because it’s your duty, but because no one else will? That’s different. That’s the part I’ve always avoided. Because it feels like once you start, you can’t stop. Because it means you matter. To someone. And if you matter, you can fail them. But I’m not good at that. I disappoint people. Often. I know I promised her to be there. But does she really expect me to be there?

I stare at the condensation running down my glass, watch it gather at the base and pool on the table. My hand twitches once, and I still it. No one notices, I think. Hopefully.

Eventually, I wrap my hand firmly around the glass and down the rest of my weizen—hoping it’ll wash the thoughts away with it. “What’s he planning to do with her once she has a Staatsexamen?” I ask, my tone dry, skeptical. “Use her to dismantle the institutions from the inside? Twist public law until no one knows which way is up?” Their father grows more absurd by the minute. Perhaps I should just—As I set the glass down with a heavy clink, the memo scrawled on my right hand resurfaces. Don’t start WWIII. Right. I’m not here to cause chaos. So, maybe it’s time for a change of scenery.

I raise my hand and call for the personification of Prenzlauer Berg. “That’s 6,90,” he says, not even trying to hide his Swabian accent. He holds the card reader under my nose, and while I skillfully avoid tipping 10%, 20%, or 30%, I think to myself: Almost 14 D-Mark for a fucking alcohol-free beer? Dönerpreisbremse, my ass. We need a Bierpreisbremse!

“I’m going for a smoke. And if you don’t mind,” I say as I rise, fishing out a cigarette and reaching for my briefcase, “you may take me somewhere else. My fingers are starting to itch. Maybe having a certain thirst for blood runs in the family. Even across worlds.”