Post by sonne on Oct 26, 2011 2:21:37 GMT -5
You want to tell me what this is all about?
Name: Ludwig Beilschmidt
Street Name: West. Close friends also call him "Lud the Stud" in order to get on his nerves, but those friend are close enough that such a nickname doesn't cause Ludwig to start any fights.
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Age: 19
Bitch or Homie: Homie
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone[/font][/size][/b]
Where you from?: Berlin, Germany
Whatchoo do?: Bodyguard, driver, mechanic, engineering student
Who you be reppin?: Zhuravli Bratva
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
How you do:
[/li][li] Serious
[/li][li] Observant
[/li][li] Responsible
[/li][li] Stubborn
[/li][li] Clever
[/li][li] Hot-tempered
[/li][li] Book-smart
[/li][li] Stoic
[/li][li] Protective
[/li][li] Perfectionist
[/li][li] Sadistic
[/li][li] Rational
[/li][li] Pessimist
[/li][li] Distant
[/li][li] Naive
[/li][li] Easily stressed
[/li][li] Selfless
[/li][li] Kind on the inside
[/li][li] Ambitious
[/li][li] Organized
[/li][li] Obsessive
[/li][li] Loyal
[/color]
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Your thing:
[/li][li] Dogs // cats // animals
[/li][li] Wurst // strudel // German food
[/li][li] Beer // drinking with friends
[/li][li] Cars // fast cars // expensive cars // German cars
[/li][li] Books // stories // textbooks // instruction manuals
[/li][li] The outdoors // hiking // the ocean // the mountains
[/li][li] Building things // fixing things // disassembling things // working with his hands
[/li][li] Exercise // jogging
[/li][li] Cooking // baking // cakes and sweets
[/li][li] Coffee // bitter drinks and food
[/li][li] Overcast weather // rain
[/li][li] Being in charge
[/li][li] Tidying things up // cleanliness // order
[/li][li] Subculture // "magazines"
[/li][li] Blue // green //gray
[/li][li] His brother // family
[/color]
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
Not your thing:
[/li][li] Dirt // clutter // messes // chaos
[/li][li] Braggarts // loud people
[/li][li] Wasting time // wasting food // wasting anything // inefficiency
[/li][li] Silliness // teasing
[/li][li] Spicy foods
[/li][li] Loneliness
[/li][li] Thunderstorms
[/li][li] Ignorance, especially about his home country
[/li][li] Disrespect // rudeness
[/li][li] Rule-breaking // disobedience // being ignored
[/li][li] Helplessness // illness // injury
[/li][li] Cruelty to children or animals
[/li][li] Forced responsibility
[/li][li] Failure // disappointing someone
[/li][li] Crowds // people who get too touchy-feely
[/li][li] Nightmares // oversleeping
[/color]
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
What you been through: Ludwig remembers very little of his childhood, just brief flashes of color or noise or emotion: a small room with blue wallpaper, the echoes of raised voices, hunger, a toy train, things like that. Of his time on the streets with Gilbert, he can recall a little more, but his solid memories start from the time after Ivan took him and his elder brother in. Unlike Gilbert, Ludwig was much more wary of the Russian at first, but when it became clear that Ivan bore neither of them any ill intent, he grew more attached to the older man, adopting him as a father figure.
For a while, Ludwig didn't understand the nature of the work he'd been adopted into: he focused on doing well in school and didn't ask too many questions. Of course curiosity got to him in the end and after he'd learned everything about the gang, he felt a little conflicted. Even as a child he'd had a firm sense of what was right and wrong, but he didn't want to disappoint his brother or Ivan. He decided to remain loyal to his family and thankfully, as he grew older, Ludwig developed into a pessimist and a cynic, which allowed him to turn more of a blind eye to the fact that he was one of the 'bad people'.
Another thing that changed rapidly when he was a teenager was his build. Ludwig quickly overtook his brother in height, and a fondness for soccer and exercise in general earned him quite a lot of physical strength. While he disliked being labeled as a muscle-head jock (he was still a straight A student), Ludwig felt some pride in taking up work as a bodyguard for his adoptive father's gang. His skill with cars eventually had him working as a driver as well, and (unofficially) as a mechanic: when it comes to repairing any kind of machine, Ludwig has a natural talent. He's currently a freshman in college, and while he spends a lot of his time studying, he never neglects his job responsibilities.
On my knees in the night
Other shit:
-- He has three dogs: Aster, Berlitz, and Blackie. They are highly trained and well-behaved, and Ludwig likes taking them to school and to work.
-- Ludwig speaks German, English, and some Russian. As he's shy about his accent, however, he tends towards being quiet if he has nothing to contribute to a conversation.
-- Aside from cars and engineering, his secret passion is cooking. He can bake a mean cake.
-- Rumors of his various perversions have yet to be confirmed, but if you know what's good for you, you won't ask about them.
Sayin prayers in the street light
Show us what you got: (RP sample)
Unlike so many others, Germany didn't wear his faith as openly as a badge or medal. The Eisernes Kreuz strung on a silver chain around his neck was a military decoration, not a religious symbol, and even that stayed tucked securely under his shirt. He celebrated holidays quietly, only answering about his beliefs if outright asked; to Germany, religion was a private matter, and what people believed in shouldn't factor into how others judged them.
Yet sometimes, the stoic and rational nation found himself seeking out a church. He had attended often as a child with his brother, and something familiar and comforting still lingered in the sanctified buildings despite all the times Germany had seen them burnt or bombed. Everyone lowered their voices in a church, and only the creak of the doors or the murmuring of prayers broke through the cool air. Perhaps selfishly, Germany hadn't come to join those voices today, though that wasn't to say he never did. He wasn't seeking the help of God, no -- he merely wanted a quiet place to think.
One of the doors to the building already hung half-ajar on its hinges, and after glancing around surreptitiously to ensure he was alone, Germany slipped through the gap into the semi-darkness within. Inclining his head briefly in respect to the statue on the far wall, he walked slowly down the aisle, examining the surroundings. It took the nation a moment to realize he wasn't completely alone: a woman knelt in prayer at the church altar, murmuring in a language he didn't understand. Her voice sounded familiar, but not wanting to interrupt, Germany selected a random pew to his right and sat down. The old wooden bench gave a quiet squeal of protest and Germany winced, but the woman at the altar didn't seem to have noticed and he relaxed a little in the uncomfortable seat.
If he were more religious, he realized, he would be praying for help or success for his people. But prayers offered him little comfort; his time was better spent planning, and at least the government officials would be hesitant to try and interrupt him here. Eyes half-focused on a distant rack of candles, some lit, some dark, Germany lapsed into thought, and despite his purpose there, some habits couldn't be broken: his hands lay clasped politely in his lap.
Yet sometimes, the stoic and rational nation found himself seeking out a church. He had attended often as a child with his brother, and something familiar and comforting still lingered in the sanctified buildings despite all the times Germany had seen them burnt or bombed. Everyone lowered their voices in a church, and only the creak of the doors or the murmuring of prayers broke through the cool air. Perhaps selfishly, Germany hadn't come to join those voices today, though that wasn't to say he never did. He wasn't seeking the help of God, no -- he merely wanted a quiet place to think.
One of the doors to the building already hung half-ajar on its hinges, and after glancing around surreptitiously to ensure he was alone, Germany slipped through the gap into the semi-darkness within. Inclining his head briefly in respect to the statue on the far wall, he walked slowly down the aisle, examining the surroundings. It took the nation a moment to realize he wasn't completely alone: a woman knelt in prayer at the church altar, murmuring in a language he didn't understand. Her voice sounded familiar, but not wanting to interrupt, Germany selected a random pew to his right and sat down. The old wooden bench gave a quiet squeal of protest and Germany winced, but the woman at the altar didn't seem to have noticed and he relaxed a little in the uncomfortable seat.
If he were more religious, he realized, he would be praying for help or success for his people. But prayers offered him little comfort; his time was better spent planning, and at least the government officials would be hesitant to try and interrupt him here. Eyes half-focused on a distant rack of candles, some lit, some dark, Germany lapsed into thought, and despite his purpose there, some habits couldn't be broken: his hands lay clasped politely in his lap.
Been spending most our lives living in the Gangsta's Paradise
