#julia beilschmidt

[blutpop]

damn.........

raccoon tails ver

[hellonerf]

craving nyo prussia ....,.,.,.oughfgfghf

i like her

[ambivalent-amphibian]

rip gilbert (and julia) beilschmidt, you'd have loved conan gray

[shachaai]

[Hetalia Version] The Lindworm’s Lullaby

Chapters: 3/14 Rating: Explicit (For Gore) Main Relationships: Arthur Kirkland (England)/Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal) Characters: Arthur Kirkland (England), Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal), Original Child Character(s), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Julia Blumenschien (Fem Prussia), Kiku Honda (Japan), Lovino Vargas (South Italy), Assorted Others Other Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human AU, FBI Murder Mystery/Thriller, Case Fic, Adapted from a Hannibal Fic, Baby Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Gabriel Fernandes, Omega Arthur Kirkland, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Single Parent Arthur Kirkland, Violence and Gore Canon-Typical to Hannibal Levels, Cute Moments and Murder, Murder Scenes, Dead Bodies, Poisoning, Discussions about torture/infidelity/rape

The FBI is called in to investigate when a series of bodies shows up around Ohio: all of them alphas, and all of them skinned alive. With the killer’s motives a mystery, Ludwig Beilschmidt pulls Arthur Kirkland from the classroom and his vigil at the comatose Madeline Williams’ bedside once more to lend his insight to the case - with very little mind paid to the fact that the busy Arthur, omega and single mother to a six month-old daughter, might have some scheduling issues. Necessity - and pressure from Ludwig - drives Arthur into reluctantly asking Gabriel Fernandes for a favour at short notice. Gabriel is delighted to help Arthur with babysitting - once he has, of course, recovered from both the surprise of learning that Arthur Kirkland even has a baby to care for and, presented with the adorable armful that is a sleepy Lenore Kirkland, feeling a little skinned raw himself.

******

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

*****

*****

Chapter 3: deep into that darkness peering

Ludwig’s vague ‘Ohio’ turns out to be Lucas County, Ohio, on the outskirts of the city of Toledo. An abandoned manufacturing plant for electrical goods out in the suburbs off highway 24, just one of many factories standing empty along the more desolate stretches of road.

Even in the deepening shadows of a fading sunset, it’s obvious that the plant is falling into wrack and ruin. Some of its buildings are still mostly intact but more than a few are falling in on themselves, roofs everywhere full of holes and insides open to the elements. The paint is peeling everywhere moss, mould and mildew hasn’t spread, cracks in the plaster giving way to brick dust and rubble. Weeds have pushed up between the tarmac and cement that had once been part of the paving outside, broken glass from smashed windows and abandoned beer bottles crunching underfoot with gravel.

Squatters or youths looking for a thrill have clearly been in all the buildings at some point. Old empty chip packets and smushed-up polystyrene cartons lie caught-up in loops of abandoned rusting wire and under plastic shells of white furniture that never was, aluminium cans rolling noisily in the evening breeze until they dink to a gentle stop against a wall or piece of broken building. The local wildlife has, thankfully, mostly been scared away by the greater vermin of law enforcement officials moving in, but there are probably still a few rats and stray cats about the place somewhere. Bats and birds as well.

Truly, the only thing going for the plant is that it - at least - hadn’t been too far from the airport.

The evening breeze blows by again as Ludwig’s team unload themselves from their assigned cars to the plant, sending long cool fingers up the nape of Arthur’s exposed neck and threading his hair out on the wind’s tangled loom. Arthur shivers. He hadn’t planned for an evening outdoors in damn Ohio when he’d dressed himself that morning, and he’s cold without his scarf.

The sight of the factory itself does not fill him with the warm and fuzzies. Not the building, nor the swarms of law enforcement bustling about the place like flies under their own glaring floodlights as the night grows dark around them. The Toledo and Cleveland offices have sent their agents here already, and a large truck has been set up as the HQ for the scene.

“Oh, Ludwig,” Arthur sighs as the other man crunches his way through debris to walk alongside him, clasping his heart sarcastically-sweet in the picture-perfect pose of a swooning omega. “You always take me to the nicest of places.”

Already ahead of them, call-me-Julia (on the plane) Blumenschien smothers a laugh as she negotiates her way under the crime scene tape with her bulky kit, her long silvery braid swinging with the motion. Lovino Vargas doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he slinks along after her with the teams’ camera equipment, and even Kiku Honda, usually the most painfully polite of the group, looks to be holding back his grin as he hauls the last of their things out of the cars’ trunks.

As he often does when he’s getting his own way, Ludwig takes the magnanimous approach. Bolsters morale by accepting the dig pointed his way - and even spares Arthur a wry smile as he lifts the crime scene tape for them both to duck under. “Tell me if you feel the same way after you’ve seen the scene. We believe it might be the second one this month.”

Huh. Arthur reaches up to brush back a strand or two of his flyaway hair. “Nothing worth making a fuss about until number two?”

“Once could always be a freak incident,” Ludwig says seriously. “Twice is something we have to be concerned about.” He gestures over a jacketed agent who had been standing at the steps of the HQ truck, the woman obviously waiting for their arrival. Late 20s, maybe, Asian American and serious-looking. Not someone Arthur recognises, but clearly an agent in charge. “Special Agent Linh?”

The agent - Linh - nods, her sleek black ponytail bobbing neatly with the motion. “Sir.” She looks tired and smells faintly of coffee and something floral. An omega. A green woven ribbon omega collar is just visible under her FBI jacket and buttoned-up shirt.

Arthur could really do with a coffee right now. With the night off from looking after Lenore and no need to worry about his caffeine intake provided he ditches the milk he produces for the rest of the night, he could even have a strong one.

“Beilschmidt,” Ludwig introduces himself. Jerks his chin at Arthur. “Special Agent Arthur Kirkland. The latest report?”

“Three bodies,” says Linh, “no ID for any of them. All men, strongly suspected to be alphas. Estimated time of death was two days ago, based upon the early insect activity.”

Which means young maggots. Lovely. Arthur isn’t sure exactly why he’s smiling faintly at Linh with maggots on the table - only to belatedly realise that the other omega reminds him of Marianne. Nothing in her appearance, but that floral smell is of sweet pea. Sweet pea, with Linh, and something like lotuses and lily-of-the-valley. No white musk or roses, nor creamy beeswax blended with vanilla.

Arthur squashes the smile. “Why is there no confirmation of the victims’ dynamic?” Most alphas - even dead ones - are easy enough to identify just by their scent, but, should scent fail, it isn’t hard to pull down a pair of jeans and look for a knot.

Linh licks her lips with a quick dart of tongue - trepidatious. “Each victim has been tied to a chair and had all their skin cut off. Flayed. We’re assuming the victims are all alphas based upon the presence of mass alpha pheromones in the room and what we think are penises with knots on all three victims, but there was some glandular and genital mutilation across all of the bodies. No concrete identification could be made without disturbing the scene, so we need to wait for confirmation about the victims’ dynamics in the lab.”

“Other wounds?” asks Arthur, but Linh just gestures helplessly at him. Another question that the lab will have to answer for them once the bodies are taken to the morgue. “In your opinion, was the flaying done pre or post-mortem?”

The smell of dry, almost sour, flowers in Linh’s scent spikes a little higher, a weird stress note in it edging it into the realms of unpleasant. Her gaze going distant: she’s remembering the scene. “Based upon the amount of blood and the pain scent in the pheromones when we first entered the room where we found the victims… I’d say pre.”

Skinned alive.

The night grows darker yet, and Arthur finds himself unconsciously shifting closer to Ludwig’s body beside him. Seeking some of the warmth exuded by the alpha’s steady bulk, even as Ludwig’s expression turns grim.

Ludwig: “Who called it in?”

Linh: “A man from Toledo’s Urbex League.” Elaborating at Ludwig’s blank look - “Urban explorers.”

Ludwig, exactly as clueless as before: “‘Urban explorers.’”

“People who explore vacant, abandoned, and ruined buildings for fun.”

“It’s a hobby for thrill-seekers with an interest in photography, architecture and historical documentation,” says Arthur. Rolling his shoulders free of the stiffness of cold before stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. “Sometimes it’s all about the art. Sometimes it’s a search for inspiration. Sometimes it’s a genuine desire to, uh, to preserve constructs for the historical record that others don’t think - or aren’t allowed - to keep. It’s an acknowledgement of the lovely ache of transience with a heap of rebellion thrown in.”

“Stick it to the man,” Linh says drolly, and Arthur likes her all the more for it.

“There’s a moving kind of beauty to be found in the decay of uninhabited space,” he adds, Ludwig still looking unconvinced beside him, “the man-made slowly sliding back into the grasp of nature.”

A bit like sending the painstaking self-construction of a man that is Dr. Fernandes out on a trip to Arthur’s little refuge in Wolf Trap. Unlike many of his neighbours in the local community, Arthur had kept his home as its original build, preserving the wild on his acres of land instead of slapping a McMansion down on top of it all. Nature rules the territory around Arthur’s little white-washed house, a thriving chaos that will have no respect for Dr. Fernandes' soft charcoal and cream attire. Arthur can only hope that nothing too terrible will happen to the alpha as he takes Lenore to Arthur’s neighbour and stops in at Arthur’s house for the dogs. (A little bit of coyote shit never really hurt anyone in the long-term, but Arthur would certainly pay to see Dr. Fernandes wrinkle that big arch nose of his after getting some of the crap on his fancy shoes.)

…Dr. Fernandes should be in Wolf Trap - or just leaving the area - about now, actually. Arthur takes one hand out of his pocket to check his phone. No frantic text messages or missed calls from Dr. Fernandes, so Lenore is fine. He can breathe.

Arthur slides his phone back into his pocket. “...Could also just be ghost-hunters.”

Ludwig huffs through his nose, his scent bleeding with exasperated chillies and black pepper. “Go,” he says to Arthur. Nods meaningfully to where the greatest hubbub of sound and light is coming from on-site. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Arthur sighs as well, but obediently leaves Ludwig with Special Agent Linh to go investigate the scene. Blumenschien-Julia, Honda and Vargas had long since gone ahead of him, and Arthur isn’t surprised to see the three of them as he approaches one building less damaged than the others, its heavy industrial door pulled wide open to the night. Floodlights, conversation, and the heavy iron scent of blood drift out.

One of the original investigators - fully suited and booted - stops Arthur before he goes inside. Hands Arthur a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and overshoe covers in matching blue, the whole set reminding Arthur quite starkly of his daughter’s matching sets of mittens and booties for fall. All he’s missing is the hat.

Inside: a big cement box. This building appears to have been used as a storage warehouse in the past, old, now empty, shelves disintegrating into rust where they’ve fallen over on the floor. The few small windows around the large room seem to still be intact, set high up on the walls so that, in the past, no-one passing by would have been able to sneak a peek at the goods stored inside.

It’s a good place to kill someone. Close the door, and almost all sound and light would be trapped inside the warehouse’s four thick walls. With the plant abandoned as it is… three victims could very easily be tortured to death, and no-one but the killer would ever scent their suffering or hear their screams.

Even days after their death and with new, living people on-site the air is still smeared with the intense suffering of alphas, a pungent enough odour that Arthur rocks back onto his back foot for a moment as he steps inside the warehouse. Unable to stop the instinctive wrinkling of his nose, the immediate defensive hunching-up of his shoulders to protect his vulnerable throat. His eyes prickle, threatening to shift to gold, Arthur’s body responding to the pheromones in the air and sending the first trickles of defensive hormones out into his bloodstream. Alert to any danger.

For the scent to have built up to this degree, the victims must have been tortured for many, many hours. Death by a thousand cuts: for most, being flayed isn't a quick way to die.

Photographers and note-takers scuttle around the warehouse like beetles over a corpse. Corpses. Three bodies sit slumped in their plain wooden seats, all in a row, stripped - badly - of their skin from head to foot. Glistening wet muscle, fat and bone exposed to be buzzed over by flies. Hands tied behind their backs, ankles lashed to the feet of the chairs. Blood dried in pools on the floor.

Arthur studies the scene, takes as deep a breath as he can bear, and then lets the golden pendulum in his mind swing.

All of the other people in the room disappear. Then the flash of cameras, the crime scene markers, and the yellow tape. The blood pools on the floor recede like the tide, drain backwards, upwards, up the wet muscle that used to be three men’s legs. Maggots are unborn, retreating into their shells around crusted eyes and slashed-up ears, and flies depart from the buzzing strings of beads they had made against lipless mouths. Skin regrows across mangled limbs like lichen stretching out over the trunk of a tree - but none of the victims wake. All three men remain slumped in their bonds, naked, alive but unconscious.

Arthur circles them to examine them from behind. No signs of head trauma on their scalped skulls, nothing overtly obvious to indicate a reason for the victims’ unconsciousness prior to flaying. They’d likely been drugged.

Further back in time. The victims had been brought into the room one by one, all at the same time. Dragged - there are scuff-marks from the door to a patch of floor outside of the pools of blood the size of a man’s body. A torn-off shirt button too clean to have been here since the plant went out of business in the same area meaning that the victims had been clothed originally, stripped off in the same patch of floor before being dragged over to the chairs. Tied in place with unforgiving cable ties.

The killer waits. The killer waits until the sedating properties of the drugs begin to wear off and his three victims all wake. The victims are still weak, sluggish, unable to resist when their kidnapper approaches them with a blade -

“Any sign of the murder weapon?” Arthur asks the room.

Julia, nearest to Arthur, answers him, too busy bagging up the abandoned shirt button to look over. “Nope. We’re looking for something incredibly sharp though, a blade no longer than six inches. Slight curve.”

“A dressing knife.” The tool of a hunter. Or butcher.

Arthur sinks back into his recreation, the weight of a 6 inch dressing knife comfortable in his hand. Its grip is warm and familiar: an old friend.

The killer begins with the victim in the leftmost chair. The blood under his corpse is the oldest, and blood spatter indicates that he was conscious enough to struggle at least a little when the knife was placed to his skin. Feet first - the killer wanted the victim to last as long as possible, and watch every moment as his skin was sliced from his body. To scream. The killer wanted all three of his victims to watch, John Does #2 and #3 watching #1 tortured to death. #3 watching #2. And #3…

This is personal. I skin these men slowly, one by one, so that the others may watch. I have ordered them by their sins, so that those whose sins were greatest will wait longest for their death to arrive. Look at me. Know me. Do you remember me now? It is important to me that you see what you really are on the inside.

John Doe #1 still has a patch of skin over his right ankle bone almost the size of Arthur’s palm. Thumb-sized pieces of skin hanging loose at the back of his knees, under the curve of his ass where it meets the chair. Eyelids, and the remnants of a nose.

John Doe #2 has been flayed so badly he’s lost one of his balls, and it’s impossible to tell if the man had had a knot at one point with what little flesh remains of his genitals underneath all the blood, under the slippery pool of his own intestines where they’ve slithered forwards out of his abdomen and onto the remains of his lap. There’s a vicious gouge in his perineum: Doe #2 talked back.  

I’ve done this before. Humans are not my usual prey - I know how to handle my knife, but the shape of the animal beneath the blade is still unfamiliar to me. That my inexperience extends your suffering only brings me more pleasure, because you deserve to suffer. My cuts grow more precise as I move along the row of my victims, but now I know how to keep you alive for longer as I cut. Peeling off your skin inch by inch, dropping it in a pile in front of you on the floor. Warming to my task.

Arthur frowns, rising from his crouch near the third body. “The killer knew these people.” He’s shaking, the screams of three men still echoing in his ears. Has to clench his hands into fists to get control of himself, the scent of raw spoiled meat stuck in his nose, itching across the roof of his mouth.

“Well, I’m glad someone did,” Vargas snarks, lowering his camera after snapping a picture of the first body’s bound wrists. “We’ve got nothing to ID them with. No clothes, no wallets, and not enough left of their facial features for us to run a photograph of them through the system. If their DNA doesn’t show up in our files we’ll have to start looking at dental records.” Notoriously spotty.

“Any of the missing skin turned up?”

“Nada.” Julia again, still scouring the floor for any more pieces of clothing. For strands of fabric and the marks of feet. “Victims’ personal effects are still AWOL as well. Agents from the local field offices have already swept the plant’s buildings searching for them, and they’ve got the K9s out in the surrounding fields. Just in case any of it’s been dumped outside.”

It’s almost fully dark now outside, so the sniffer dogs should be coming in for the night.

“Just what we need,” Vargas gripes. Grumpy enough that, even though Vargas is a beta, Arthur can smell him from a few metres away, Vargas’ scent green and sharp at the edges with lemon basil over something thicker, spicier, smokier, and woodier. A church’s herb garden kitchen - lavender, something, something and frankincense? “Paw Patrol at the party hosting the world’s most fucked-up ménage à trois. The last time one of the field offices brought out the K9s near one of our crime scenes, we got dog fur contaminating the evidence.”

“You’re kvetching like you’re the one who had to get the DNA of 8 dogs to eliminate them from the suspect pool,” Julia grumbles back at him, exuding just enough of her own sour cherry and almonds alpha scent that Arthur almost misses the moment that the notes of cedar, coffee, pepper and baked bread hit the air around all of them, Ludwig Beilschmidt entering the old warehouse.

It says something about the raw meat stink of the bodies, their pheromones and their blood, that Ludwig smells appealing to Arthur’s nose. An actual beacon of stability amongst this mess, safe harbour for Arthur’s nose.

“Ménage à quatre,” Honda says softly, his eyes limned with the same instinctual gold as Arthur’s. Ducking his chin apologetically when Vargas only looks at him blankly and offers a puzzled huh? “Quatre, not trois. The killer in this scenario makes four.”

Arthur would’ve quite happily taken examining a scene after a real ménage à quatre over this. It wouldn’t have been the first time in his life he’d had to search for evidence using UV - wouldn’t even have been the first time he’d had to do so with four completely naked, thankfully still alive, civilians right beside him.

“This wasn’t an act of passion,” he says, pitching his voice a little further for Ludwig, “but one of cold and pretty methodical revenge. A slow, controlled burn.” Arthur gestures to the victims, one after the other. “One. Two. Three. He deliberately flayed them one by one, so the later victims watched the earlier victims die. They were drugged when they were first brought here, but they were all alive and conscious when the knife was applied to the first one’s skin.”

Julia whistles. “They were tortured.”

That’s exactly the word for it. “Our victims were still under the effects of whatever concoction they were drugged with. They struggled in their bonds - but not too much. Damage from the ties into the raw flesh is relatively minimal, and blood spatter hasn’t gone too far from the bodies.”

Honda pipes up again. “That suggests a high dose of sedatives, paralytics.”

“Which suggests our unsub might be someone who isn’t able to - or doesn’t think they’re able to - handle an adult alpha male without the aid of pharmaceuticals, even when the victim is tied down.”

“Handling one alpha is a great deal different to handling three,” Julia points out. “The killer could just be cautious.”

“We have no way to tell that the victims were awake when the killer started hacking at them,” Vargas complains. “We can check for stress hormones during the autopsy, but the body naturally produces those when it's attacked anyway. The whole revenge theory is entirely suppositional.”

“Suppose then,” grunts Ludwig from behind the beta, and Vargas nearly jumps out of his own skin.

Arthur waves sharply to the body in front of him again: John Doe #3. “He pissed himself pre-mortem, pre-flaying. You can smell the ammonia, and it’s diluted some of the blood that dripped down onto the floor after the urine.”

(“I have it,” says Honda, and approaches so he can snap a few more photos of the floor under victim #3’s chair. To Vargas - “Did the earlier team take swabs?” Vargas only shrugs at him irritably.

“Alright, sourpuss,” says Julia, “you get the fun job of going to find out.”)

“Skinning is an act of humiliation,” says Arthur. “Our killer had to show each of these men exactly who they were underneath the front they were putting up for the world. And make them sorry for it.”

Julia hmms in thought, idly spinning the evidence bags in her gloved hands. “A ‘beauty is only skin deep’ sort of situation?”

Ludwig looks sceptical. “You think these men were targeted for their vanity?” For all their posturing, alphas rarely have the word applied to them.

Julia, unlike many others of her dynamic, has a reasonable amount of self-awareness. (When she wishes to apply it.) She shrugs. “Every alpha gets a little vain during pre-rut. Maybe they all peacocked in front of the wrong person.”

“I’m not sure,” says Arthur, frowning again. “All I really know for certain is that these men did something that personally upset their killer.”

Ludwig looks at Arthur meaningfully. Jerks his chin towards the warehouse’s door before heading in that direction himself. Walk with me.

Arthur goes and walks with him, falling into step with Ludwig just outside the building. Night’s chilly mantle drapes itself out over Arthur’s shoulders again, the crunching of gravel and glass underfoot shockingly loud against the quiet murmuring of agents around them. Arthur has forgotten to take his booties off, and the sharp debris on the ground is slicing their thin plastic to ribbons.

In the distance, a dog barks.

“You were asking about the dogs,” says Ludwig.

“Anything?” Arthur asks, but Ludwig only shakes his head. “Likely the unsub took the victims’ skin with them then.”

“A trophy?”

Arthur shrugs, enjoying the smell of the fresh air outside the warehouse. Staring off into the night rather than at the blinding FBI floodlights, the chaos that is the HQ truck. The road directly outside the manufacturing plant is empty.  “...You said this is the second scene.”

“The first body was found three weeks ago. West of here, in an abandoned farm building off Highway 20A, just outside the village of Delta.”

There’s a half-lit billboard out there in the darkness, where the plant’s short entrance road meets the nearby highway. Tall, spectral white letters haunt the display:

WHERE ARE YOU GOING? Heaven? or Ohio? 855-FOR-TRUTH John 3:36

“How far from here?” Arthur asks. Turning his eyes away from the promise of manufactured heaven to concentrate on his balance, lifting up his feet, one after the other, to pull off the remains of the elasticated overshoes he had been given earlier. The matching gloves soon follow, and Arthur warms up his twitching fingers by rubbing them over the back of his neck.

“Around half an hour by car,” Ludwig replies. Looking about as pleased as Arthur feels hearing that answer, Ludwig’s eyes glowing red-white with light reflected from behind Arthur. That’s a lot of ground for the investigation to cover. Where are all the serial-killing homebodies these days?

“The unsub has a relatively wide working area. Must know the region pretty well.”

“It is not too far from here to Michigan,” Ludwig points out gruffly. Another negative. “We could be looking at a killer from out of state.”

“Maybe.” Arthur purses his lips, the tips of his fangs sharp against his tongue. He doesn’t want to imagine another serial killer at large across state lines right now, especially not in states so far from his home. “...What made the locals link the first body to these three? Going from one victim to three is quite a quick escalation. Sudden change in M.O. could mean this is a copycat.”

“First victim is also an alpha with her skin cut off. Still no ID.”

Arthur pauses. “‘Her’? Our victims are all men.” That’s another big difference between the two scenes. “Change in victim count, change in primary gender of victim...”

“Do we have a copycat,” asks Ludwig, a perfect echo to Arthur’s own thoughts, “or someone who knows just enough to throw us off?”

A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. “Maybe someone who’s learning. There’s a noticeable increase in the precision of the cuts going from the first victim to the last, a - uh - developing technique. The killer was getting better with practice.”

“Learning on the job.” Ludwig sighs, reaching up with one hand to rub at his temples. “Practice makes perfect, they say.”

Arthur’s sigh echoes him, Arthur using his own hands to knuckle at his tired eyes. Multicoloured stars flash and twinkle in the dark behind his eyelids. His nose is cold. “We need to see the first body.”

“We’re working on it. The locals are putting up a fuss.”

“They’re hitting us with the red tape?” Arthur frowns, a flash of frustration ripping through him. Isn’t it enough that they’ve come out to Ohio to take a look at this mess without being asked to perform tricks as well? “Do they want the FBI to handle this case or not?”

“Oh,” says Ludwig, bone-dry and mirthless, “the local bureaucracy wants rid of it. But apparently there’s some complication with two open missing persons cases and the families involved.” He snorts - “The rich families involved.”

“...They’re each wondering if the Jane Doe is their missing person.” No matter that they’d all get their answers quicker if they just cooperated with the FBI. Arthur shakes his head, muttering - “More money than sense.”

Ludwig doesn’t disagree with him, sighing a long plume of warm breath out into the increasingly cold night. “Money makes the world go round.” Not logic. Fuck it.

*****

*****

Special Agent Linh - Vietnam Julia Blumenschein - Female Prussia

Fun fact: sweet pea has always been an asshole of a scent to obtain for perfumiers. The flower, often referred to as Queen of the Annuals, produces a stress hormone when picked, which ruins its beautiful smell. It’s also a flower that’s used extensively in those fashionable teas/tisanes/cocktails that change colour as you pour them.

Thank you, still, to my friend Reid, who helped me with Ohio lore! The billboard Arthur spots here is based on a real one that google claims is in Ohio, so any mistakes there are google’s fault rather than mine. >>

NEXT CHAPTER

[shini--chan]

Update Schedule - April 2025

Yandere Character Sheet I - Ferid Bathory (02.04.2025)

Yandere 2p! FACE - Sleeping Beauty (06.04.2025)

Yandere Character Sheet I - 1p! Canada (Matthew Williams) (09.04.2025)

Yandere Character Sheet I - 1p! Germany (Ludwig Beilschmidt) (13.04.2025)

Yandere Cardverse! Germany - HCs (18.04.2025)

Yandere Hetalia - Switch (20.04.2025)

Yandere Hetalia (England, Germany) - Spoils of War (21.04.2025)

Yandere Black Butler (Hannah, Lady Red) - The Pain of Beauty (23.04.2025)

Yandere America - Slight of Hand (24.04.2025)

Yandere America - Naughty Little Girl (26.04.2025)

Yandere Hetalia (1p & 2p America, 1p & 2p England) - Burn the House Down (28.04.2025)

Yandere Yelena - A Play at Romeo and Julia (29.04.2025)

[artist0kili]

CW Scarring, Half Nakedness (Underwear only)

[Image Description:

A painting seperated into four equal parts showcasing four figures with a dark, cool blue background. Their identity and name is written in cursive next to their figure.

Figure 1 depicts HWS Prussia in bright warm-colored red boxers. He crosses his arms and pouts. He looks annoyed and blushes with embarrassment. Most prominent is the Lichtenberg figure on his left chest. In the top left of his section stands "1P Prussia Gilbert Maria Beilschmidt".

Figure 2 depicts HWS Nyo Prussia in calming, floral magenta underwear. She leans onto her right leg and her right arm loosely holds a sword pointed at the ground. To the left of her it says "1P Nyo Prussia Julia Maria "Albina" Beilschmidt"

Figure 3 shows 2P Prussia standing awkwardly and shy. His body seems droopy and his hair falls in front of his face. He wears a grape-purple color and appears defeat. Next to him it says "2P Prussia Gilen Beilschmidt"

Figure 4 shows 2P Nyo Prussia as shorthaired and rather annoyed. She is missing her left leg and arm which are replaced by mechanic limbs. She wears dark boyish underwear and her body shows many scars. She leans one hand on her hip and lets the other hang in its place. Next to her is written "2P Nyo Prussia Maria Anna Beilschmidt" End Description]

Main account: @artist-kili

[sparks-and-wires]

Characters I'd Write

1P Hetalia

N. Italy - Feliciano Vargas ✩

S.Italy/Romano - Lovino Vargas *❀

Japan - Kiku Honda ✩

Prussia - Gilbert Beilschmidt *❀

England - Arthur Kirkland *❀

America - Alfred Jones ❀

Russia - Ivan Braginsky ❀

Canada - Matthew Williams ❀

China - Wang Yao *❀

Spain - Antonio Fernández Carriedo ❀

Belarus - Natalia Arlovskaya 𖦹❀

1P Nyos

N. Italy - Daisy Vargas ✩

S. Italy - Chiara Vargas *❀

Japan - Sakura Honda *❀

America - Emily Jones ❀

England - Alicia Kirkland *❀

Belarus - Nikolai Arlovsky

Canada - Charlotte Williams ❀

Prussia - Julia Beilschmidt *❀

China - Wang Chu-Yan *❀

Russia - Anya Braginsky

Spain - Isabel Fernandez Carriedo *❀

2P Hetalia

N. Italy - Luciano Vargas ✩

S. Italy/Romano - Flavio Vargas ✩

Japan - Kuro Honda ✩

Prussia - Klaus Beilschmidt ❀

Germany - Luther Beilschmidt 𖦹❀

England - Oliver Kirkland

America - Allen Jones 𖦹❀

Russia - Viktor Braginsky ❀

China - Wang Xiao

Spain - Andres Fernández Carriedo *❀

France - François Bonnefoy *❀

Canada - James "Matt" Williams ❀

Belarus - Anastasia Arlovskaya ❀

Ukraine - Katya Braginskya *❀

2P Nyos

N. Italy - Luciana Vargas ✩

S. Italy - Caterina Vargas ❀

Japan - Akane Honda ✩❀

America - Amber Jones ❀

England - Livia Kirkland

Canada - Marlee Williams ❀

China - Wang Biyou ❀

Russia - Victoria Braginsky ❀

France - Clarisse Bonnefoy ❀

Won't Write

1P Hetalia

Nordics

Baltics

France^

Germany^

Hungary

Austria

Belgium

Ukraine

Scotland↗

Other countries with little to no info in wiki, manga, or anime

1P Nyos

Belgium↗

Hungary↗

Germany^

France^

Austria

Ukraine

Nordics

Baltics

All other characters

2P Hetalia

Nordics

Baltics

Hungary

Austria

Belguim

All other countries

2P Nyos

Belgium

Spain ⋆

Hungary

Germany ⋆

Austria

Ukraine

Belarus

Nordics

Baltics

All other countries

SYMBOLS: ^ : Uncomfortable with * : Haven't nailed down a personality yet, subject to change ✩ : Favorite ❀ : Headcanons only for now ⋆ : Mixed Feelings, may be subject to change 𖦹 : Difficult to write ↗ : Not enough info in canon ≡ : Working on details

[doomspiral]

Playlists [updated]

At One Point, Yes (LietPru)

Dear Jones (Alfred)

Homesick For Loose Ends (RusLiet)

Undead and Umaneagable (PolPru)

Someone To Live For (Ger&Pru)

Hörst du? (Ich bin der König!) (Gilbert Beilschmidt tracks)

C'est la mort, c'est la vie, c'est moi (François Bonnefoy tracks)

God's Unloved Daughter (Julia Beilschmidt tracks)

[hanahaki-cure]

YOUR NYO PRUK!!!! God, so incredible!! Really Amazing!! I'd love to hear hcs and how they are with each others kids!! Like I feel julchen would love Leon , mathew and NZ(no idea his canon name) as they would be so reserved like lil Ludwig while struggling with Jack and Alfred cause of all the energy (plus the idea that Alice has all these kids she would never think someone would wanna be with her but Julchen likes her and god

Oh my, thank you for the enthusiastic and sweet reply! Actually, the ship is a bit niche, F/F ships (even Nyo!versions) are even more niche in this fandom, so receiving a reply in the first place makes it a highly unexpected therefore even more pleasant surprise. (❁´◡`❁)

Alright, there're so many HCs going into their Nyo! + parenting dynamics, I need some preface: A lot of Alice's ineraction with her kids is based on @historia-vitae-magistras work about Arthur and his ilk, many HCs about Maria and Ludwig are based on @kisamesopelagic and me gushing over Gilbert's and Ludwig's dynamic. An entire HC vomit going on under the cut.

For Alice, I imagine her to be quiet similar in character to Arthur although more temperamental and prickly since in some periods her being the incarnation of a large empire was strongly questioned which let's her temper flare up. She has to though. Master of hidden quips, insults, and observation of social circles. Now to Maria Julia Beilschmidt, nicknamed "Julchen" only by close friends. (I'm aware that Julchen is Nyo!Prussia's popular fanon name although in German it's a diminutive nickname form for the male name "Julian", rarely for it's female versions. Therefore I accept it mostly as nickname for her middle name, maybe from the times when Elizaveta or Roderich talked to her dismissively to undermine her authority.) Thanks to Nicky's HC, Gilbert's copious mode to work in spite of 23 layers of religious repression is artificially inflating his ego and developing a bit of megalomania, Maria has more self-confidence is actual self confidence. She was handed nothing because of her gender. If she wasn't fighting anyone else, she had to fight within her own ranks for respect to keep her head above water, having learnt that brashness and unapologetically standing your ground keeps her afloat.

In my HC Maria is surprisingly good with kids, to everyone's surprise, even to her own surprise. Ludwig wasn't an accident, he very much was a Prussian project yet Maria couldn't help but to slowly adore that frail, desoriented kid (which increasingly talks for hours about trains). That doesn't mean that Maria is the best parent, she seriously lacks in sensitivity, opens, and emotions. Or to put it differently: "The way to hell is paved with good intentions." A lot of her own expectations on how and who Ludwig should be is packed in her education, all the tools she got for her developement are pushed into Ludwig's hands as a "one size fits all" and "This is how I got big and strong so that must work for you!", no questioning of her methods possible. Fact is, Ludwig is an earnest, hard-working kid yet only in his adult years he realizes that he would've needed the emotional tools of reflection. At the same time, Maria can be really fun. During training she's encouraging, believing that her sibling or kid is the best thing that happened in her life. Oh, and Maria can be child-like. Since she didn't have a childhood (being a military order), playing pranks, fooling around, encouragement for arts and crafts (excuses it with: "This creativity and fine mechanical skills are good for your future career as engineer!") is something she will part-take in. Defends her loved ones like lioness who got previously stepped onto her tail. And does like to listen to children talk, partly because children's tales are so imaginative and fun, partly because she takes kids seriously although not the best at handling any situation which can't be solved with replies like "there, there" or "well, here's the five step way to succeed out of this mess". Alright, now finally, Alice and Maria with their kids: Alice did this to herself, she chose to take on so many projects, she favours, she expects her children to make it on their own. The most sore kid-parent-relationships are probably with Leon and Harry (Singapore). Both, Yao and Shadiq (Malaysia) are furious about Alice deliberately taking in Harry and Leon, leading to weird co-parenting scenarios which make especially Harry, as he's the youngest, quiet nervous. When Maria got involved with Alice was kinda trying to clean up Alice's messes. Not like Alice actually had any non-political messes in her lives, Maria just assumed so because Alice's living style wasn't up to Prussian householding guidelines. (The fights they got into because Maria tried to Kondo Alice's main residence without asking for permission first whereas Alice secretly stashes a lot of memories of her kids.) One of the few welcome additions was Maria setting up entire folders of spreadsheets of appointments, meal plans, and activities for the kids though. At some point Alice and Maria both agree that they can privately interact with each other's kids but any political involvement is taboo. Private interaction include arts and crafts, excursions (Alice always organizes these, the last one Maria lead was a eight hour "Spaziergang" including tents, hiking boots, and some mountain climbing), reading stories, eating together. Whereas Ludwig remains fiercely within Maria's care, things got a bit more relaxed for Alice since Maria has a lot of energy (also the unshakable will) to organize the household as well structuring their daily life properly so the two women have some time left for themselves in spite of all the work. (I could go on for longer what their relationship looks like but this post is already long enough. @____@)

Since the actual parenting situation for Harry and Leon is Alice's personal problem, Maria has a lot of opinions but Alice drew a strict line to not involve a foul-mouthed, "isn't diplomacy another military verbal tactic?!" girlfriend in it too. So, they don't interact much with Maria yet Ludwig can join them on playdates whenever they're in Alice's house at the same time. (@hetahonda and I like to joke how across sea and land Singaporeans and Swiss people are so strinkingly similiar. Is Switzerland the Singapore of Europe, is Singapore the Switzerland of SEA? In any case, hence the reason reason Ludwig gets along well with Harry, he reminds him a lot of cousin Zwingli.) Ludwig and Harry, on the few occasions they meet, are getting along without talking much. They go on exploration walks for bug hunts or play train, all very chill.

Zee, Eleanor, isn't only Alice's favourite, Maria took a strong liking to her too. It might be a bit of a gendered thing since both see themselves in a a resiliant, resourceful, defiant girl (although irony that Alice is the one occupying her). Eleanor, as she only meets Maria on private occassions, considers Maria to be a person lacking in tact or seriousness so she's reluctant to interact with her. This frustrates Maria who tries to explicitly have girl-activities (horse riding, archery, shooting range, what a great girls day!) together. Eleanor developed a strategy to surround herself with her fellow siblings whenever Maria's announced to visit. Funny enough, Eleanor learns from Alfred that Maria is a fearsome foe on the battlefield, leading her troops under an iron-hard regiment. Fun fact, for a while Prussia supported the US-independence movement. So, I would argue that Maria can handle Alfred who stills sees her as former teacher. In return Alfred will for very long time remain a greenhorn thinking too early of himself as a hotshot. Together they love to tease Alice although Maria sometimes reminds Alfred that she considers herself in a higher social rank than him. Considering how Alfred has a Golden Retriever personality, he's a bit hurt that his military idol doesn't think as highly of him as he thinks of her. In any case, after having learnt about Maria's other nature, Eleanor reluctantly respects Maria, even asks her about battle strategy. In a moment of enthusiasm Eleanor babbles about the proud warriors among her people. Ludwig and Alfred get along well. Both get involved in model building, planning to craft crazy machines. It's a cute sight both being busy building intricate machinations, Alfred talking, Ludwig giving barely any response. Anyhow, Ludwig describes Alfred: "Really good bud."

Ok, Jack and Matt. Jack is actually someone with whom Maria struggles. He has a head of his own, attracts accidents and wildlife like a reverse lotus flower. Whereas Alfred seems to be born cafeeinated, he sometimes sees a point in structure. Jack on the other hand could be left entirely on his own, he would end up best friends with any animal meeting him, not getting why everybody's raving so much about social constructs like punctuality, organigrams, or q-tips. While Alice forbade Maria to interact with her education except for helping out with householding chores as well as setting up admittedly helpful daily plans, Maria's impulse is heavily tested whenever she sits next to Jack who tells her all about his wild ravings. Sometimes Jack comes along with Harry and Ludwig for bughunts. Very handy, since within five minutes even the rarest critters run over Jack's hands. Towards Matt Maria is similarly gentle for the same reason she's gentle to Ludwig. Matt is well-raised (something Maria considers very important) while capable surviving the coldest winters, sometimes on his own. Matthew likes to stick to Alfred or Eleanor whenever Maria's in the house yet enjoys her company when she reads fairy tales to the kids, or, unlike Alice, asks about his latest life events.

[roszabell]

every once in awhile i remember how my interpretation of julia beilschmidt is literally just barbara streisand

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Hetalia ✨

1P MALE CHARACTERS:

Aph North Italy - Feliciano Vargas Aph Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt Aph Japan - Kiku Honda Aph America - Alfred F. Jones Aph England - Arthur Kirkland Aph France - Francis Bonnefoy Aph China - Yao Wang Aph Russia - Ivan Braginsky Aph Canada - Matthew Williams Aph Netherlands - Govert Maes Aph Austria - Roderich Edelstein Aph Poland - Feliks Łukasiewicz Aph prussia - Gilbert Beilschmidt Aph Switzerland - Basch Zwingli Aph Estonia - Eduard von Bock Aph Latvia - Raivis Galante Aph Lithuania - Toris Laurinaitis Aph Romania - Vladimir Popescu Aph Denmark - Magnus Kohler Aph Finland - Tino Väinämöinen Aph Iceland - Eiríkur Steilsson Aph Norway - Sigurd Bondevik Aph Sweden - Berwald Oxenstierna Aph Greece - Heracles Karpusi Aph South Italy - Lovino Vargas Aph Spain - Antonio Fernandez Carriedo Aph Turkey - Sadiq Adnan Aph South Korea - Im Yong Soo Aph Ancient Rome - Romulus Gilbavares Aph Scotland - Allistor Kirkland Aph Hong Kong - Leon Chun Aph Sealand - Peter Kirkland

1P FEMALE CHARACTERS:

Aph Belgium - Anri Maes Aph hungary - Elizabeth Héderváry Aph Liechtenstein - Elise Zwingli Aph Belarus - Natalia Arlovskaya Aph Ukraine - Irunya Chernenko Aph Monaco - Lucille Bonnefoy Aph Vietnam - Trần Chung Liên Aph Seychelles - Michelle Bonnefoy Aph Taiwan - Mei Xiao

1P NYOTALIA MALE CHARACTERS

Aph Belgium - Abel Maes Aph hungary -  Daniel  Héderváry Aph Liechtenstein - Noah Zwingli Aph Belarus - Nikolai  Arlovskayu Aph Ukraine - Dimitry  Chernenko Aph Monaco - Gérard Bonnefoy Aph  Seychelles - Mickaël Bonnefoy Aph Taiwan - Liu Feng Ling APH Vietnam - Quyền Tuân Liên

1P NYOTALIA FEMALE CHARACTERS

Aph North Italy -  Feliciana Daisy Vargas Aph Germany - Monika  Beilschmidt Aph Japan - Sakura Honda Aph America - Amelia  F. Jones Aph England - Alice  Kirkland Aph France - Angelique Bonnefoy Aph China -  Chun-Yan  Wang Aph Russia - Anya  Braginskaya Aph Canada - Clementine  Williams Aph Netherlands - Manon Maes Aph Austria -  Anneliese  Edelstein Aph Poland - Florentyna  Łukasiewicz Aph prussia -   Julchen “Maria”  Beilschmidt Aph Switzerland -  Adelheid  Zwingli Aph Estonia - Edith  von Bock Aph Latvia -   Irka  Galante Aph Lithuania - Kotryna Laurinaitytė Aph Romania - Viorica Popescu Aph Denmark - Margarathe Kohler Aph Finland - Tina  Väinämöinen Aph Iceland - Fridrika Steildóttir Aph Norway - Lovise  Bondevik Aph Sweden - Berlinda  Oxenstierna Aph Greece - Hemera  Karpusi Aph South Italy - Chiara  Vargas Aph Spain - Isabella Fernandez Carriedo Aph Turkey - Delara Adnan Aph South Korea - Lee Ji You Soo Aph Ancient Rome - Pricilla Gilbavares Aph Scotland - Annabel Kirkland Aph Hong Kong - Ling Chen Aph Sealand - Cassidy  Kirkland

2P MALE CHARACTERS

Aph North Italy - Luciano Vargas Aph Germany - Lutz Beilschmidt Aph Japan - Kuro Honda Aph America - Allen F. Jekyll Aph England - Oliver Kirkland Aph France - Louis Franklin “Frankie” Bonnefoy Aph China - Xiao Wang Aph Russia - Victor Braginsky Aph Canada - James Williams Aph Netherlands - Jesse Maes Aph Austria - Siegfried Edelstein Aph Poland - Franciszek Łukasiewicz Aph prussia - Gillen Beilschmidt Aph Switzerland - Voss Zwingli Aph Estonia - Edgar von Bock Aph Latvia - Ruslan Galante Aph Lithuania - Tomas Laurinaitis Aph Romania - Vassile Popescu Aph Denmark - Markell Kohler Aph Finland - Thurston Väinämöinen Aph Iceland - Kastíel Steilsson Aph Norway - Sigfrid Bondevik Aph Sweden - Bernard Oxenstierna Aph Greece - Hermes Karpusi Aph South Italy - Flavio Vargas Aph Spain - Andres Fernandez Carriedo Aph Turkey - Sadaqat Adna Aph South Korea - Im Young Sun Aph Ancient Rome - Remus Gilbavares Aph Scotland - Alric Kirkland Aph Hong Kong - Tai Yang Shòu Aph Sealand - Paul Kirkland

2P FEMALE CHARACTERS

Aph Belgium - Beatrice Maes Aph hungary - Julia Héderváry Aph Liechtenstein - Luise Zwingli Aph Belarus - Natasha Arlovskaya Aph Ukraine - Katusha Chernenko Aph Monaco - Giselle Bonnefoy Aph Vietnam - Anh Chung Liên Aph Seychelles - Vanessa Bonnefoy Aph Taiwan - Ming Yue Wang

2P NYOTALIA MALE CHARACTERS:

Aph Belgium - Raul Maes Aph Belarus - Nikita Arlovskaya Aph Ukraine - Mykolai  Chernenko Aph Monaco - Theodore Bonnefoy Aph hungary - Julian  Héderváry Aph Liechtenstein - Marlon Zwingli Aph Vietnam - Thuan Quang Liên Aph  Seychelles - Valentin Bonnefoy Aph Taiwan - Chia-Jung  Wang

2P NYOTALIA FEMALE CHARACTERS:

Aph North Italy - Lucrecia Raffaella Vargas Aph Germany -  Gretchen  Beilschmidt Aph Japan - Akane Honda Aph America - Rebecca Alison Jekyll Aph England - Olivia  Kirkland Aph France - Marianne Cezanne Bonnefoy Aph China - Lien-Hua  Wang Aph Russia - Zasha Braginskaya Aph Canada - Heather  Williams Aph Netherlands -Jessica “Jess” Maes Aph Austria - Johanna  Edelstein Aph Poland - Franciszka  Łukasiewicz Aph Prussia - Gilianne  Beilschmidt Aph Switzerland - Astrid  Zwingli Aph Estonia - Evelin  von Bock Aph Latvia - Rota Galante Aph Lithuania - Goda Laurinaitytė Aph Romania - Vasilica Popescu Aph Denmark - Milena Kohler Aph Finland - Taja  Väinämöinen Aph Iceland - Kassandra “Kass” Steildóttir Aph Norway - Sissel  Bondevik Aph Sweden - Brunhilda  Oxenstierna Aph Greece - Hermena  Karpusi Aph South Italy - Mattea  Vargas Aph Spain - Ophelia La-Dolores  Carriedo Aph Turkey - Sidika Adnan Aph South Korea - I-Yeong Sun Aph Ancient rome -  Cloelia Gilbavares Aph Scotland - Abigail Kirkland Aph Hong Kong - Aiqing Caihong Chun Aph Sealand - Gloria Kirkland

[ambivalent-amphibian]

after revisiting the spapru/pruspa tag for the first time in like four years i've come to change my tune (all headcanons, ofc) about my first aro4allorom ship <3. they'd eventually become exclusive queerplatonic partners that enjoy sex, but their angsty gripes with amatonormativity aren't only limited to gil's inhibitions towards fearing he could be leading toni on (since he doesn't really understand experience romantic attraction and maybe never will, much less the rituals and expectations), but also extend to the confussion stemming from the longing and touch starvation they do experience when they're together, which the both of them (moreso toni) have always assumed could (and should?) only come from romantic, consumate love.

add to that the way toni's idealization of romantic love (conventional romantic roles and performances that is) is so deeply ingrained in him, his worldview, any plans he could ever make for his future -i'll say it, even in his sense of worth as a person. what a lovely mess <3

tl;dr they want each other what a shocker, but will toni finally accept ~romance~ is just a social construct that pretty much originated in his very soil (medieval chivalry romances)??? and that he and gil can make their own rules together?? stay tuned

[shachaai]

[Hetalia Version] The Lindworm’s Lullaby

Chapters: 2/14 Rating: Explicit (For Gore) Main Relationships: Arthur Kirkland (England)/Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal) Characters: Arthur Kirkland (England), Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal), Original Child Character(s), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Julia Blumenschien (Fem Prussia), Kiku Honda (Japan), Lovino Vargas (South Italy), Assorted Others Other Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human AU, FBI Murder Mystery/Thriller, Case Fic, Adapted from a Hannibal Fic, Baby Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Gabriel Fernandes, Omega Arthur Kirkland, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Single Parent Arthur Kirkland, Violence and Gore Canon-Typical to Hannibal Levels, Cute Moments and Murder, Murder Scenes, Dead Bodies, Poisoning, Discussions about torture/infidelity/rape

The FBI is called in to investigate when a series of bodies shows up around Ohio: all of them alphas, and all of them skinned alive. With the killer’s motives a mystery, Ludwig Beilschmidt pulls Arthur Kirkland from the classroom and his vigil at the comatose Madeline Williams’ bedside once more to lend his insight to the case - with very little mind paid to the fact that the busy Arthur, omega and single mother to a six month-old daughter, might have some scheduling issues. Necessity - and pressure from Ludwig - drives Arthur into reluctantly asking Gabriel Fernandes for a favour at short notice. Gabriel is delighted to help Arthur with babysitting - once he has, of course, recovered from both the surprise of learning that Arthur Kirkland even has a baby to care for and, presented with the adorable armful that is a sleepy Lenore Kirkland, feeling a little skinned raw himself.

*****

CHAPTER 1

*****

*****

Chapter 2: Lenore

Gabriel spends longer than he would care to admit - even to himself - simply standing there in the Quantico lecture hall after Arthur Kirkland leaves him. The minutes pass like seconds and the seconds are inconsequential, Gabriel outwardly calm even as his thoughts churn and roil, a frothing storm surge sweeping through the ordered corridors of his mind.

Arthur Kirkland, truly, is a force of nature: wild, chaotic and difficult - if not impossible - to predict. As much the swift stream running, silent, calm and deadly, through the forest as the lightning-struck pine crashing down into the undergrowth. Not one for subtleties outside of his own sharp mind, his general speech and attitude are as forthright as his behaviour.

In lesser creatures, Gabriel might find such conduct to be rude, but Arthur Kirkland is no lesser being. Fascinating, diverting, uncouth and inconvenient, the omega is ever true to himself. One cannot blame the wind for blowing, the sea for its tumultuous waves or the thunder for its rumbling and roar - and so to rage against Arthur Kirkland’s nature seems as pointless and arrogant a pursuit as Cnut and the tides.

The evening’s events are only proof of concept: Arthur Kirkland - with not more than a little assistance from Ludwig Beilschmidt - has, once more, upended so many of Gabriel’s preconceptions of him. Thrust news of his motherhood, of his six month-old daughter, at Gabriel with the same fumbling gracelessness as his itchy scarf (some mixed wool and polyester blend. With too much emphasis on the polyester).

Gabriel rubs the scarf’s fabric between fingers and thumb, resisting the temptation - for now - to raise it to his nose and inhale all that it has to offer. The texture of the material makes his mouth twist but pulling lightly at the weave releases a little of the scent trapped in its fibres - of bittersweet tea, of woodsy apples roasted in a smoking campfire, of the clean sharp tang of the cold fresh air. Arthur. Chaotic nature distilled… and then doused in a gallon of some truly appalling aftershave. Another one of Arthur Kirkland’s forts against the world: perhaps one of both his simplest and strongest in a society where so much is observed and assumed about an individual based upon the scents emanating from their skin.

The cologne - cheap, mass-produced, and likely marketed to nose-blind betas - had hidden the manifold scents rearing an infant would leave on a parent from even Gabriel’s keen nose: the particular floral odours of baby shampoos and lotions, the unfortunate but necessary smells of spit-up and dirty diapers. The cologne had even hidden the scent of lactation on Arthur until the omega had stood close enough to Gabriel for the doctor to hold or bite or kiss, close enough for Gabriel to take in great lungfuls of Arthur’s natural scent and all the hormones thrumming under Arthur’s skin. The deep collar of Arthur’s shirt that day had gaped open just enough for a little of the rich, mingled perfume of milk and warm skin to escape, the wrap-style of the clothing no doubt making it easy for Arthur to either pump or breastfeed his child whilst leaving one side of his chest still covered, the double-lined material of the front an aid in hiding accidental leaks.

Put on the spot about the existence of his infant daughter, Arthur had been self-conscious and yet refused to be shamed. Defiant in his status as a single mother with no ring on his finger, no bonding bite left on that lovely long neck of his, and no glimpse of marks left by fangs on the scent glands - just - peeking out from under Arthur’s tight cuffs. More embarrassed, in truth, by the need to rely on another person in the care of his child, by the practicalities such an endeavour requires, than being known as used goods to society, the flustered bloom of blood rising up Arthur’s throat and across his cheeks like red dye drawn up the stem of a thirsty white rose.

Gabriel had had plans to make a hearty Italian beef stew for his dinner that night, a dish meant to be simmered for almost an hour. It would have been a time-consuming creation but one more than worth the wait, the stew enriched with butter, juniper berries, herbs and a generous splash of a robust red wine, served on a bed of buttery polenta stirred with Fontina cheese. Another large glass of wine on the side.

Now, instead, Gabriel must gather all his whirring thoughts together and focus on a child. Because Arthur Kirkland has a child - and not just any child, but an infant still on the teat. A daughter at that.

(How much of his girl does Arthur see when he looks at the still sleeping Madeline Williams?)

The Quantico Academy crèche is more prepared for Gabriel’s arrival than Gabriel himself is. Naturally, with Arthur’s text messages already in his pocket confirming the Kirklands’ address and other such important information, Gabriel is the very image of perfect composure as he reaches crèche’s reception, tacking an amiable smile onto his face even as a frustrated toddler located somewhere in the establishment’s confines begins to let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Dr. Gabriel Fernandes.” He introduces himself to the crèche worker fronting the desk, both of them pretending that the screaming going on somewhere in the closed-off area behind her isn’t trying to drill a hole in both of their skulls. “I’m here to collect Lenore Kirkland. Professor Kirkland informed me that he would call ahead…?”

The crèche worker - an omega, by the sweet pheromones Gabriel can scent from her as she ducks her head, and called Katya according to the hand-written name-tag pinned high on her shirt - bends over to consult the screen of a nearby computer.

(Politely - and not unsympathetically as a fellow member of the Overworker of Shirt Buttons Society -, Gabriel averts his eyes. There is no way to avoid noticing that Katya is particularly well-endowed when it comes to her bosom, and, when she leans forward, her breasts do their best to fall out of her straining shirt.)

Katya chews on her lower lip as she clicks the mouse once, twice - and then smiles, looking back up at Gabriel. “I have you on the list. If I could just check your ID?” Gabriel unclips his visitor badge for a moment to show her more closely. “Thank you, doctor. If you’ll just give me a few moments, I’ll have Lenore brought out for you.”

Gabriel nods and the crèche worker disappears into the restricted area behind her. Distracting himself by silently critiquing the terribly ugly cartoon clown someone has painted on a nearby wall until another worker returns to the reception to hand Gabriel a large leather bag in dark blue.

“Miss Kirkland’s go-bag. Katya’s just getting her into her cardigan.” His name-tag reads Valentino.

Valentino leaves again, and Gabriel checks the bag - clean diapers and baby onesies, baby wipes, medicated cream for diaper rash, two pacifiers, and one full bottle of milk with its cap screwed tightly in place - before slinging the main strap over his shoulder. One arm now fully occupied with the go-bag and his own briefcase, breathing a sigh of relief when the one-toddler shrieking disaster siren finally quietens down.

Katya returns, her own arms full with what looks like nothing more than Little Red Riding Hood in miniature, a pair of big, drowsy green eyes and a mop of dark curls. “Somebody decided to take an unscheduled nap, so they’re a little sleepy right now.” She smiles at Gabriel conspiratorially, mock-whispering: “Should make for a quiet ride home.”

“We can hope,” Gabriel answers on autopilot, inwardly marvelling at the curious blankness of his thoughts in that moment as he is handed the terribly precious, warm little flour-sack weight that is Lenore Kirkland for the first time.

Lenore has no such vacuity to worry about; her opinion on being disturbed from dozing off again and then transferred from the arms of the familiar Katya to those of a stranger is obviously and immediately clear. Small starfish hands immediately splay themselves on Gabriel’s chest and push to put as much distance between Lenore’s little baby body and Gabriel’s as possible, Lenore screwing her face up at Gabriel in a perfect imitation of her mother’s little thundercloud of a scowl.

Something strangely soft and curious blooms in the space behind Gabriel’s sternum. He examines it, turning the emotion this way and that as he settles Lenore more comfortably into the crook of his arm, and is surprised to realise that it’s fondness.

It really has been some time since Gabriel last held an infant. At some obligatory social event celebrating the birth of a new baby, perhaps? Surely not so long ago as his days as a surgeon, but long enough that he feels mildly confounded by how much attitude the six month-old that has just been transferred into his care manages to convey. Lenore has, it seems, decided upon continuing to scowl at Gabriel rather than cry about the strange alpha holding her, continuing to push indignantly at Gabriel’s chest with her red mittens dangling from the sleeves of her hooded cardigan. 

What had Gabriel expected when he had first learnt that Arthur Kirkland had a child? Gabriel isn’t sure now, cannot quite say if he ever reached any definite theory to settle upon - but is not surprised in the slightest that Lenore Kirkland is a beautiful little girl.

She has her mother’s pale, English Rose complexion, dainty snub nose and eyes of absinthe-aurora borealis green. Her features do, of course, have smaller proportions than Arthur’s and she has soft, round baby chubby cheeks in place of his high, thin bones, but the main thing that differentiates Lenore from her mother is her hair. Rather than Arthur’s messy fluff of relatively straight blond locks, Lenore seems to have inherited a head of longer wild curls, her tresses glossy black in colour, with all the gleam of a raven’s wing.

Arthur, too, has dressed his daughter in more stylish clothes than he wears himself: dark blue footed pyjamas, covered in embroidered red roses, over her cotton bodysuit and socks, and a hooded cardigan in red cotton over that with mock-wooden buttons. The cardigan’s hood has a face knitted into its weave and small floppy ears attached, but the tail sewn to the back of the clothing is too stubby for Gabriel to tell whether the animal depicted is meant to be a red panda or a fox. A wooden pacifier with a silicone bead clip is attached to Lenore’s pyjamas, tucked underneath the cardigan, and a stretchy red headband keeps Lenore’s tousled curls from off her face. Dangling red mittens - their string threaded through the cardigan’s sleeves - complete the look and do their best to keep the infant wearing them warm.

A rose, a red panda, and a fox. A princess, a pixie, and a dumpling.

The strength in Lenore’s young arms gives way at last, and the little girl flops forward against Gabriel’s shoulder and chest with a small and huffy yah. A little chirp of confusion follows: Lenore has found herself with a faceful of her mother’s brown scarf, the familiar smoky apple-spice-and-pine scent imbued into the fabric completely at odds with the strange alpha wearing it.

“She took her evening bottle as usual,” Katya says as Lenore reaches up with one hand to begin curiously patting at Gabriel’s face, Gabriel clearly having passed a silent test from both of them, “so she shouldn’t want her next until the usual time.”

Gabriel has no idea when the usual time might be, but he is quite sure that Lenore will let him know when she is hungry again.

Lenore smacks Gabriel on the nose, and then squeals in ticklish delight when Gabriel blows a long stream of breath onto her palm to make her take it off again. Her little covered feet softly kick-kick Gabriel under the ribs - and the mitten attached to her one flailing hand decides to whap Gabriel in the eye.

“You will make your mother jealous if you manage to give me a black eye before he does,” Gabriel quite seriously informs the child, blinking away the brief pain of synthetic wool smacking into his eyeball. If they’re at the point of grievous bodily harm already, formal greetings are probably long overdue. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Boulette. Enchanté de vous rencontrer.” He means it too. Surprising himself once more.

Lenore blinks back up at him for a moment before bursting into a burbling stream of - what sounds approximately like - kikiahyah.

“Oh, of course,” says Katya as though this pronouncement makes perfect sense to her. She beams at Gabriel. “Let me just grab you her kitty.” To Gabriel’s blank look: “Her comfort toy.”

Gabriel is beginning to wonder whether babysitting Arthur Kirkland’s child will require him to surgically attach a third arm to his body. “Of course,” he echoes Katya with draining optimism, sighing as the crèche worker leaves him - them - again.

Lenore pats him consolingly on the chin, and giggles when Gabriel playfully bares his fangs at her. She reaches up to touch those too, wholly unafraid and laughing again when Gabriel gently nips at her inquisitive fingertips. Fearless little thing. (So much for her being sleepy.)

It is easier to scent Lenore now that she is more comfortable with Gabriel, this soft, sweet little sucking pig made plump and tender on her mother’s rich milk. As an unpresented child, she has no real scent of her own outside of that creamy smell of milk and the mild, almost powdery scent all infants share, but, under the bright apple-and-pear scent of her shampoo, beneath the apricot, vanilla and sandalwood of Lenore’s body lotion, Gabriel can detect traces of Arthur: the spiced apple, ink and old paper notes from Arthur holding his child, the same laundry detergent and softener that Arthur uses on his own clothes. The scent of Arthur’s love all over Lenore, holding her even when Arthur cannot.

“Ba,” says Lenore in response to Gabriel’s nose tickling her temples, squirming around in his hold until she can snuffle him back. She squishes her small - and thankfully, after some minor miracle has no doubt been worked by the workers at the crèche that day, clean - face up against Gabriel’s jaw, clumsily copying what the alpha is doing to her and scenting Gabriel in return. Picking up the scent of her mother at the same time, Arthur’s scarf marking Gabriel as safe.

Gabriel resists the urge to rub his cheek over the crown of the little girl’s head, unsure what Arthur’s response might be should he return and find his infant daughter with Gabriel’s scent mark on her, smelling so strongly of an unrelated alpha. Omegas have - quite instinctively - murdered for less in the past when it comes to protecting their beloved offspring.

“I haven’t introduced myself to you properly yet, have I?” Gabriel inquires of Lenore instead, setting down his briefcase for a moment so he can gently tug Arthur’s scarf out of the infant’s mouth and place her pacifier there instead. “That’s rude of me. I am Dr. Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes, a colleague of your mother’s.”

Lenore, eyes wide now, has nothing more to say to that - but erupts into a delighted stream of kikikiki when Katya returns from the back area of the crèche with a small brown stuffed toy in her hands.

The worker spares Gabriel from a display of his juggling skills by handing the toy directly to Lenore, the infant bubbling over in delight with a pronounced “Kiki!” as she spits out her pacifier and stuffs one of her toy’s soft floppy ears into her mouth to replace it.

“Couldn’t let you go home without her now, could we?” Katya coos to the child, giving one last pat to Lenore’s round cheek before she retreats again.

Gabriel does not wish to imagine the kind of baby temper tantrum he might have had to endure if they had. He pulls Kitty’s ear from out of Lenore’s mouth and tries to give the girl her pacifier back - sighing inwardly when he realises Kitty is actually a small stuffed dog.

Arthur Kirkland, contrary as always.

Katya looks at him expectantly, friendlier than ever with one more of her charges safely dispensed with for the night. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Dr. Fernandes?”

“We should be fine from here,” says Gabriel as he picks up his briefcase again. “Thank you.” He has his work, all the keys he needs for Arthur’s home and vehicle, the diaper bag and Lenore Kirkland, and Lenore has her dog toy named after a cat stuffed in her mouth again.

They head for the Academy parking lot. Much like Gabriel expects her mother might be, Lenore is terribly unimpressed by Gabriel’s lecture en-route on the oral phase as presented by Freudian psychoanalysis. She doesn’t stop chewing on Kitty, at any rate.

Arthur’s Volvo presents a much more riveting diversion for both of them, as Gabriel must first find where Arthur has parked the vehicle before he can set down his bags and begin the calculations for how he’s going to get Lenore’s seat from the back of Arthur’s car and across the parking lot into his own Bentley. Strapping Lenore into her seat, locking the Volvo and then going to bring his Bentley around seems like the most sensible option to Gabriel - but he has no idea where to even begin when it comes to removing the baby seat from the back of the Volvo. It might as well be riveted in place for all the movement it makes when Gabriel jiggles at it, and the fabric covering the backseat of the car strains ominously under pressure. Gabriel imagines the same forces at work on the luxury cream leather covering the seats in his Bentley and winces.

“Huh,” says Lenore from her vantage point against Gabriel’s shoulder, Kitty dangling from one of her chubby little hands and smearing drool all down the arm of Gabriel’s overcoat. “Ahnooyah.”

“You said it,” Gabriel sighs, looking down at her - only to have some immediate concerns that, judging by her face, the little one may be concentrating on a particularly complicated bowel movement.

A moment’s consternation and a blink later and - Lenore blinks as well before she resumes staring up at Gabriel’s face with rapt fascination. She’s… trying to mimic his expression, her young mirror neurons hard at work to improve her social skills. Gabriel makes it easier for her by smiling a smile he hardly feels and Lenore smiles too - but not without tilting her head curiously, those big green eyes of hers bright with a keen sort of understanding that Gabriel is more accustomed to seeing in the gaze of her mother.

How marvellous.

“‘Thou art thy mother’s glass,’” Gabriel murmurs to the child, brushing a rebellious lock of dark hair from off her forehead even as little flapping hands, mittens and a stuffed toy come up to bat at his fingers again. Only time will tell how much of her mother’s skills Lenore retains as she grows older.

Gabriel accepts the inevitable (or least disastrous) option and buckles Lenore into her seat in the back of the Volvo. Sliding behind the driver’s wheel of the car himself and placing both his briefcase and the diaper bag in the passenger side’s footwell beside him.

A very faint note of dogs hangs in the air inside the Volvo alongside the scent of Arthur, but the car’s seats are a great deal freer of canine fur than Arthur’s person might - occasionally - make one assume they might be. It speaks volumes as to Arthur’s dedication for cleaning - though Arthur’s taste in music is still a lost cause, Gabriel’s face twisting as the radio comes on as he’s still readjusting the driver’s seat to accommodate his legs.

In the interests of lulling Lenore into sleepiness again, Gabriel switches the radio over from the local soft rock station Arthur had had it on to a classical one instead. Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu in C♯ minor should be a soothing enough piece to send Lenore off into a light doze at least, Gabriel’s eyes flicking between the road in front of him as he pulls out of the Academy parking lot and the little girl still idly chewing on her toy in the car seat behind him. Lenore smiles and burbles a nooba around Kitty’s ear when she meets Gabriel’s eyes in the front mirror, but otherwise seems quite content in her car seat, watching the world pass by the Volvo’s windows. A much happier little soul than her mother.

And just as stubborn. (Perhaps the world-altering effect of the Kirklands is something genetic?) Fantaisie-Impromptu fades into Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, Prélude and still Lenore is awake.

“I will talk about Freudian psychoanalysis again,” Gabriel threatens her half-heartedly as he sets them on the road to Wolf Trap. “I have a degree.” He has several degrees to his name, in fact, not that any of them will mean much to a six month-old except as something new for her to chew on.

Lenore only gurgles with another bout of baby laughter, her cheeks pink and eyes bright as she squishes Kitty to her chest. Charming but vexing - and infinitely preferable to her filling up her diaper.

“Ma boulette,” Gabriel sighs at her. Fofinho. He knows a lost cause when he sees one. “What am I to do with you?”

*****

*****

Katya - Ukraine Valentino - Seborga

With thanks, still, to the FAD server who originally helped me brainstorm ideas for the name of Lenore’s plushie, and Doc who came up with Kitty!

Gabriel is less likely to specifically name his recipes than Hannibal is, but the Italian stew he mentions in this chapter is a Carbonade Valdostana: https://www.greatitalianchefs.com/recipes/carbonade-valdostana-recipe

Thou art thy mother’s glass - Sonnet 3, by William Shakespeare

I’ve always headcanoned Port as a polyglot, and it’s partially why he works so well for the Hannibal role in this adaptation. In this ‘verse, there are dark places in his mind associated with his childhood where he spoke Portuguese, so his babytalk will tend more towards the language of his early adolescence - French.

NEXT CHAPTER

[drowning-in-dennor]

What are all the human names at the finishing school?

here are all the names for nyotalia characters or characters without canon names. everyone else will be using their canon names.

nyo!france - Fleur Bonnefoy nyo!lithuania - Milda Laurinaitis nyo!poland - Filipa Łukasiewicz nyo!austria - Marlene Edelstein nyo!hungary - Sandor Héderváry nyo!prussia - Gretel Beilschmidt nyo!romano - Katherine Vargas nyo!america - Allison “Ally” Jones nyo!canada - Charlotte Bonnefoy nyo!monaco - Louis Bonnefoy nyo!japan - Kiku Honda nyo!hong kong - Abby Ka Yu Wang nyo!macau - Julia Suet Wing Wang iceland - Haraldur “Harald” Dahl nyo!norway - Linnea Dahl nyo!denmark - Maren Dansdatter nyo!latvia - Ilona Galante liechtenstein - Erika Zwingli netherlands - Abel de Vries belgium - Eva de Vries luxembourg - Roland de Vries ukraine - Ludmiyla Braginskaya nyo!russia - Anya Braginskaya nyo!belarus - Pyotr Braginsky

[mauerfrau]

@damnprussia from x

“I thought about Julia, but that stuff is too planned out and has too many other people. I need something spontaneous and is just me.” She contemplated the options he had listed. “Fighting pirates might be good. I’ve never done that. I barely go on the ocean as it is, so no one will look for me, least of all...him. Maybe I’ll do that.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked away. For the first time in a long time, she seemed nervous about what she was thinking of asking him next. After some awkward minutes, she forced herself to ask it. “How would you feel if I changed my last name? If I dropped Beilschmidt altogether?”

[anothercolourmagines]

As D&D Classes and Races

This is pretty much the result of me binge-watching outsidexbox’s D&D sessions which if you haven’t yet checked out, do it immediately. Trust me you won’t regret it. :)

The context here is that the Reader is the DM, with the characters picking their classes and races and forming several groups. This was quite enjoyable to write so I might add more information in future, if you guys find it interesting as well.

Allen Jones: Barbarian, Half-Orc. His method of picking a character is rather simple: find the biggest, strongest and most intimidating combination he can play as and pick that. The choice is quite a good one and he has a lot of fun with the rage feature as well, but it often ends up with him employing a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ sort of tactic which puts him at odds with Oliver and Matt. Definitely the type to ask for preferential treatement, but doesn’t do much except whine when he is categorically denied. 

Matt Williams: Ranger, Half-Elf. He didn’t really understand the concept at first and initially wanted to play a Half-Orc Barbarian as well until Allen called him an uncreative asshole. After having the classes and races explained to him again he decides to go with Ranger, and at Oliver’s suggestion be a Half-Elf. Allen makes fun of him for picking it at first until he finds out the Ranger can have beast companions at higher levels. 

Oliver Kirkland: Druid, Halfling. Since he’s always eager to have everyone together and getting along he jumps at the idea of playing a tabletop rpg (despite not being entirely sure what the term implies). Since he’s rather taken with gardening he decides on his character rather easily and picks the race relatively easy as well thinking it sounds fun. He is often the one that suggests the party look for the most peaceful solution and, just like in real life, often has to mediate Allen’s and Matt’s arguments. 

Louis Bonnefoy: Warlock, Tiefling. Originally, he had no interest at all in trying the game but after Oliver convinced him (with the promise of booze) he decided to give it a go. He claims that he doesn’t care what class he plays so at Oliver’s suggestion he goes for the warlock, but picks the race on his own. He generally goes along with whoever proposes the easiest solution to the problem they face, regardless of whether it is moral or immoral. 

Viktor Braginsky: Wizard, Human. Much like Louis, he also had to be dragged into doing this by someone else. In this case it was Anya who suggested it would be a great way for the siblings to spent time together and do something fun as well. He generally prefers talking out the problem with their foes, which often clashes with Katya’s playing style leading to some very chaotic sessions.

Zao Wang: Rogue, Elf. He insists on playing a cool and suave character, akin to the roguish elven assassin of Dragon Age: Origins and is quite dedicated to playing his role well. Unfortunately, he is liberal with his stats which causes him to have horrible Dexterity but fantastic Charisma and Constitution. He also wanted to implement the Beilschimdts’ idea of in-game relatives and asked Kuro to have his character related to his but was dissatisfied by the result.     

Luciano Vargas: Paladin, Human. He finds the whole concept childish and informs everyone else at the table of his opinions, but still goes through with it. It is mostly because Kuro implied he was so bad at it that even Lutz could beat him at it. He does not seem to understand that the game doesn’t employ a tranditional competitive system of one winner and insists on having the ‘best’ class in the game. He finds the description of Paladin attractive, but falls short on acting the role as the embodiment of justice and righteousness that the class is usually associated with as he prefers to use cunning and deception.

Lutz Beilschmidt: Fighter, Dragonborn. Truth be told, he doesn’t really understand everything that’s going on but is just enthusiastic to be there and play. He is not really interested in the flashy classes that use magic or ones that use stealth since he feels that would be too much of a hassle. However, he is absolutely adamant on having a dragonborn character since he thinks it would be awesome. He also insists on him and Klaus being brothers in game. 

Kuro Honda: Rogue, Gnome. He was originally planning on making a tiefling or dragonborn character, but after hearing Zao’s suggestion at having their characters be related he decided to indluge him. Unfortunately for Zao, that meant that his character was now basically a gnome-sized Kuro who excelled in stealth and was very good at predicting plot points and twists. However, he does not inform the others of theories and often manages to exploit them for his own amusement.   

Flavio Vargas: Sorcerer, Half-Elf. The large number of classes made it hard for him to pick just one, but he ultimately settled on something magic orientated since he thought it would be cool to play a flashy class. He also wanted to be an elf originally but found it would be too reduntive since Roland already picked one (also it would be too annoying since Roland would insist on the two roleplaying their characters correctly). He definitely tries to charm his way out of conflicts, but is dismayed by his bad luck as his attempts almost never end up being successful. Another one who also tries to ask for preferential treatement and acts quite shocked when he doesn’t receive it.

Klaus Beilschmidt: Wizard, Dragonborn. He had originally planned on being either a gnome or halfling, but Lutz insisted on the two of them roleplaying characters who are brothers so he decided to change races to accomodate him. It does lead to some amusing moments due to the contrast between Klaus’s naturally timid personality and the rather intimidating appearance of a dragonborn. 

Roland Edelstein: Bard, Elf. His character is basically a self-insert no matter how you look at it as he decided from the get-go that it had to be an artist and extremely handsome as well. He does get into roleplaying rather quickly though, but many feel that he’s having too much fun playing a haughty elf. He also probably chooses a character name that is pretty much just a variation of his real name (ex. Rolan, Lorand or Orlando).

Julia Héderváry: Monk, Dwarf. Her picks are something of a surprise to both Flavio and Roland, who expected her to go for a Bard or something akin to this. She does prove to be rather adept at playing a monk and takes full advantage of her feats and features as well. She ends up being the unofficial leader of the party, as though Roland insists that he is the boss, it’s quite clear to everyone else that she’s in fact the one that has the most authority in the group. 

Katya Braginskya: Warlock, Tiefling. Another one who had no interest in D&D prior to Anya asking her to join in, mentioning that she could find it fun. She did not really care to look through the classes and races to make her choice and just picks at random from the choices presented to her. She does end up quite invested in her character especially when she learns that she can blast her opponents with magic.

Anastasia Arlovskaya: Cleric, Halfling. Definitely the most excited out of her siblings to play the game and does a lot of meticulous reading on classes and races. She finds Cleric to resonate the most with her and is quite happy with playing the group’s healer, though she can be sometimes overzealous in making sure everyone is healed. She was rather taken to the idea of having Viktor’s, Katya’s and her character be siblings in the game as well and was quite shocked to see that they picked different races, despite her outright stating what her race would be. She is appeased somewhat by Katya pointing out that they could be half-siblings or adopted, just like in real life.