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T^T starting this series off with one of the most cursed ships in the fandom (and that's SAYING something lol)
- Cursing, mentioned homophobia, misogyny, and anything else you can expect from the literal personage of the Third Reich
***
Reich glared up at the building before him.
Everything about it was bland. From the way it looked, to the coloring of its walls and windows and even the doors. All of it reeked of something only meager people would go in eagerly.
He hesitated to go inside, glancing down at the object he held. Why should it be looked over and placed in such a bare building? Surely his was worth plenty more than what they had in there!
After making up his mind after a moment, he growled softly to himself and walked quickly to the front of the line. Everyone immediately either backed up or kept their distance from him. Reich ignored the flashes of suspicion, hostility, or fear that sent daggers across his back.
It's not like he cared, anyway. Reich wasn't to blame for his father, who had created memories that were infested in everyone's nightmares for the next few decades. And they all looked at him like he was going to turn out like him.
I might if they don't shut up and hurry! What is with these idoits? he thought dryly. Reich got to the front, and the person at the entrance handed him a note that specified when the man was coming to look at his painting.
Reich scowled and put it away, going completely inside the building. He expected it was going to be rundown, but this was a new low. Lamps and lights were dim and sometimes flickered, and when he glanced into some other rooms, it seemed small and dense. How can so many people like this?
Reich padded past a few others, who stepped aside or flinched away as he went up to another one of the staff who worked there. Or at least looked like they did. "Where do I put this?" he demanded, holding up his painting.
The man opened his mouth then closed it, not saying it words but just pointing to a specific room. Reich ignored whatever the man did next and marched over to the room, which was a few doors down from the entrance.
Reich glanced up once in a while, not realizing that this place was long. Maybe it's bigger then I originally thought, he mused, side glancing into another room. This one seemed to be filled with pottery and other sculptures. Some of them looked good; excellent, even. But most made his mind go blank, and not in a good way.
How do those heaps of trash make it into one of these places? Reich knew how low-quality this place was, but still! It would be outrageous if they accepted that but not his!
He continued down the hallway and finally came to the door the worker had pointed him to. It felt easy to open, and he slid in easily. This room seemed more filled than the other ones, packed with people gazing at paintings or momentums. Of course it would be! Reich smirked and walked completely into the room.
Either it had taken a long time to know who he was, or that they were too incased in whatever they were looking at; but eventually a hush settled over the room as everyone went silent and turned to him.
Go ahead and gawk, assholes, he thought, glaring at whoever met his eye. I could destroy all of you if I chose to. Reich continued to pad forward, and everyone went back to whatever they were doing quickly. Too quickly. Nosy freaks, he spat in his mind.
Reich paused and glanced down at his painting, not knowing what he was supposed to do with it. He supposed he could hold onto it until they called him to check it out. His scowl deepened. Might aswell look at something while I'm here.
Reich looked up at the painting closest to him, a table with people bustling around it. He could see dogs, and food, and little children running under the table or chasing each other. Each expression was different then another, and yet he thought it looked all the same.
It's decent, he admitted to himself. But not the best. He went down the line, not caring when some violently shoved each other to give him space. As he was looking at another, however, a sudden shadow passed over him, and people let out warning murmurs.
Reich didn't have the time to look at whoever it was before they crashed into him.
He hissed in surprise and whipped around, catching his fall. Furious, he turned and grabbed the wrist of whoever did that. "Who do you think you are?" he snarled at the person.
They stared wide-eyed at him, and Reich let go, a growl deep in his throat. He could see out of the corner of his eye that some people were leaving the room altogether, but some stayed and watched what was happening.
"I'm sorry, sir!" the person stammered, sending him an apologetic smile. Is that all they think could work? Ha! A smile isn't everything, idoit! "I didn't mean to. I promise."
Reich regarded the person coldly. They were female (good. There was too much nonsense going around about idoitic trans or non-binary people, of all the stupid ideas), with sharp blue eyes and an expression that made him look twice. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see who it was.
"I think you already know me," she said, her smile fading as if she realized that wasn't helping. "but I'll introduce myself, since I accidentally crashed into you." She held out her hand. "I'm France."
Reich almost laughed out loud. France? The one who had been defeated by his father? The one father says is weak and less-calculated?
Hilarious. He was too darkly amused by that to not shake her hand. "Pleasure," he smirked.
France began to look uncomfortable, but Reich didn't let go of her hand until she started pulling it away. He suddenly stopped. His painting! He turned around sharply and saw it lying there. There weren't any stains or scratches. He exhaled slightly, then turned back to France. He put on another frown. "You should already know who I am," he announced.
She nodded, her eyes flickering with emotion. She better not cry. I'm not cleaning the stupid floor or her tears, he thought stubbornly. "Yes. You're the Third Reich."
He felt a flicker of annoyance, but it was quickly melted as France looked at him curiously. What a weird woman, making it disappear like that. "Just call me Reich," he muttered. France looked taken aback, but she nodded softly.
Reich was silent for a moment, then realized that people were still watching him and her. "Mind your own business, you absolute dicks!" Reich snapped loudly. The people went into instant action, quickly scrambling to look up at a painting in excuse.
France was staring wide-eyed at him. "I think there's a way to handle that better," she babbled. Reich snorted and wiped off his painting despite it already being clean. "I don't need your opinion on that matter."
She nodded swiftly and took a deep breath, like she was the one who was gathering courage to continue talking with him. What was wrong with everyone? It's an honor to talk with me, even if it happened on accident.
Her gaze flickered to his painting. "Is that yours?" she asked. Reich stopped cleaning it and met her gaze. The blue in her eyes shined brightly. Shined brightly! What a sappy term! he cringed in disgust. "Yes, it is. Why?"
She shuffled her feet, clearly lost. "Could I maybe see it?" she wondered. Reich backed up in suspicion, instantly furious at himself. He never backed away from someone. It was always them who did it. "Why do you want to see it?" He didn't want to say no yet. His question was genuine.
"It looks interesting!" she confessed. Reich searched her gaze suspiciously. There was true honesty in her gaze. She wouldn't last one day at my house, Reich thought. Not that that matters! I'm glad she wouldn't survive! After thinking for a moment, he grudgingly handed her the painting. Damage it and I'll damage you, he vowed in his mind as he watched her closely.
The discomfort and slight fear in her eyes changed so quickly that it took Reich a moment to read the new expression on her face. "Wow!" her voice was suddenly bathed in enthusiasm as she glanced up at him. Ugh. That smile was on her face again.
"What?" he prompted her, looking over her shoulder at his painting. Was something wrong with it?
"It's really good! I could never paint this well!" she said happily. Reich paused sharply. What was she getting at? Nobody complimented his paintings unless it was for something they needed. He didn't care about those people; he got revenge on them soon enough. Was she just like them? Reich was enormously surprised to feel disappointed.
"Really?" his voice laced with doubt. France shot him another shy smile. Crinkly smiles. Why did everyone in the world think everything was going to be okay after a smile? And yet, this one felt different; real.
Reich growled. He didn't care about anyone but himself, and he never had. Today wasn't going to be any different. He snatched the painting out of her hands and looked at it again.
"Yea! You seemed to work really hard on it! Are you here to put it in the building?" she questioned. Reich looked down at her face, the red, white, and blue startling him. Was it just the light that made the stupid colors glisten? Doubtful, he thought, glancing at the flickering light. But it's making my head hurt!
"I am indeed," he answered slowly. France dipped her head and looked past the lines of people, some still glancing at her and Reich. He narrowed his eyes as she looked back at him. "I know a good place where you can put it."
And why would I follow you? You pushed me and almost made me fall! his mind protested. Reich was grumpy it took him so long to remember that. Her blue eyes flashed. What was she doing? How was she doing this? His body reacted against his will and followed her across the room.
He still felt a trickle of triumph as everyone pulled away from them as they approached, but France looked sad as they did. How odd. Wouldn't she want the power to have ordinaries fear you? Wouldn't anyone want that? After all, these people don't matter. He felt puzzled.
France stopped, putting on a happy face again. Reich looked up at the empty space. "Is this good?" she asked him. Reich continued to look around. It did seem nice. "It's certainly an idea," he admitted.
"T-thank you!" she stammered. Reich, after a moment, stepped forward to place his painting where it would go if he decided to place it there. It seemed like a good spot; not too far, not too close to the main entrance door. Reich blinked down at her and dipped his head.
What the living fuck am I doing? he immediately pulled himself up, frustration coming back into him. Bowing to someone? Someone so weak and timid? Bowing to a fucking woman? Disgust made his face twitch. The names I'd be called! He glared off into the distance.
"Are.. you okay?" France asked him nervously. "Did I say something?" Reich wanted to nod. It was basically her fault, after all. But he couldn't. Stupid mouth! Talk! Nothing came out.
France fiddled at her fingers. "I just want to say again how sorry I am for ramming into you," she apologized. Her gaze seemed desperate as she looked up at him. Oh. Ha! She doesn't want me or my father mad! He smirked despite where his mind was going to. "I don't care anymore," he finally said flatly.
"Oh." Reich was surprised to see his own frustration reflected in her gaze. He didn't know women could get mad. He thought all of them were just obedient and bubbly. "Are you sure?" she told him.
Reich didn't speak for a long time. It was beginning to annoy him. "Yes," he said firmly. France let out a sigh of relief and patted his shoulder, freezing up in shock as she did so.
He felt shocked aswell. If it was anyone else, he would have swatted them away and threatened them either a family member or something dear to them if they did it again. And although he might still do that to France....
He supposed she could have another chance before he went that far.
"Don't do that again," he growled. France nodded and looked down at her feet. Reich battled his fury and let his eyes soften slightly. Soften? Never again will he do that! Fury was his drive-force; he couldn't let it slip for an idoitic, lowly fool!
"I forgive you," he muttered at her, then took a step around her to get his painting. France looked pale, which was what she was supposed to look like. But for some reason, a reason he hated more than almost anything (and that was saying something), he didn't want that expression on her face.
Just... stop looking like that! he ordered in his mind, then snickered as a reply. He wanted to pace, but he didn't want to be seen as weird in front of everyone. He was sure they were still looking.
I don't care what they think! Their opinions don't matter! All of them are below me and all of them will stay below me unless I say so! he echoed the words he had had in his mind for years upon years. France was changing him! How?
He saw her crouching down, looking like she was regretting life choices. If it was anyone else, he would have taunted them that their life was worthless and that they deserved to weep and cry.
But, to his fury, France wasn't anyone else.
He crouched down and put his hand on her shoulder, stifling a ripple in disgust as he touched her gently. "You don't have to cry like an annoying baby," he spoke sharply. "I really don't care. Don't make it a big deal."
France shook her head fiercely and stood up, Reich alongside her. "Obviously. What was I thinking? Almost crying in a stupid painting room. With people watching, no less." She wiped the beginnings of tears on her face as Reich looked around, seeing once again the people staring at them.
"Don't be nosy shits! Leave us alone!" he roared, hiding a smile as everyone took a step back in surprise. He grabbed his painting from the ground and looked back at France. "Don't be a wimp to people," he said slowly. He was leaving this room. He had waited long enough. He knew France wouldn't care though.
Her opinion doesn't matter!
France's eyes dimmed slightly, though the sadness was replaced with something else. "Don't be a stranger," she called back. Reich snorted, stomping out of the room. He saw a man stepping back in surprise, and Reich realized this must be the man who would be looking at his painting.
Reich introduced himself, the man vise versa, and they began to walk. Reich stubbornly walked beside him, trying to focus on what was happening right now. And yet he couldn't.
Don't be a stranger. What the hell did that mean?