#It’s just a one-shot but I’m getting increasingly feral about the idea

[honorthysalad]

at 12k words for this bitch and the first goddamn paragraph ain’t even done

[silkling]

Kinda weird idea based off of yes-i-write-fanfiction Feral Baby Soundwave Au. I just to see how you would write it

To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took so long to get around to it. I had a lot of trouble figuring out which continuity I wanted to write for. yes-i-write-fanfiction wrote a lot for G1, so I didn’t want to do that, but I couldn’t think of a good way to write feral Sparkling Soundwave for any other continuity. Then I finished watching Cyberverse, after I’d taken a break when Cheetor died because I needed the time to process that. So after I finished CV, I realized this prompt could fit.

So, in honor of Cyberverse ending, I’m setting this in that. This is during the time they’re still on Earth, when the humans have discovered the, but before Starscream was killed. Now, on with the show!

———————————————————————————————————

The battle was, as most battles on Earth were, rather anticlimactic when all was said and done. Ever since Bee had found the Ark and woken them from stasis, they’d been getting into scuffles with the Decepticons that almost never amounted to much. They were at a stalemate until they could leave the planet for Cybertron, and everyone knew it. At this point, the fighting was really just to for the sake of appearances.

And Hot Rod was quite sick of it. The humans knew about them and stayed firmly away from both the Nemesis and the Ark, so any amusement to be had from the locals was null and void. Unfortunately. And with Optimus getting increasingly ansty to return to Cybertron, most bots were focusing on repairing the Ark so they could leave.

But he was digressing. They’d been fighting the Cons, like they did every Earth week. The battle had ended with a bang, at least. Courtesy of Wheeljack, of course. One of his new inventions has blown up. Again. No one was supposed, really. But hey, it’d scared the Cons into retreating so Hot Rod wasn’t complaining.

But now he, and all the others left behind on the battlefield, were stuck with clean up duty. Which basically meant they had to go over the area and make sure nothing Cybertronian was left behind when they returned to the Ark.

The speedster looked around, spotting Optimus by a pile of rubble. He trotted over, helm tilted. “Hey, Optimus!” He greeted cheerily. “You find anything?”

Before his leader could answer, there was a beep from under the rubble.

The two bots looked to each other, then without a word bent and got to work shifting the rocks away to unearth whatever was hidden beneath them.

Which turned out to be…Soundwave?

Yeah, that was definitely Soundwave. But…smaller. And weirdly proportioned. His limbs looked almost stubbier. Honestly, if Hot Rod didn’t know any better, he’d say that Soundwave looked like a Sparkling. Which was ridiculous. Of course he knew better.

Soundwave beeped again, startling the two stunned Autobots from their staring.

“A Sparkling.” Optimus said, optics wide.

See? He knew it wasn’t a Spark-

The frag did Optimus just say?

“Come again, boss bot? Cause I think I just heard you say that the mini Soundwave is a sparkling and not, you know, mini-fied.”

The Prime shot him a bemused look. “Mini-fied?”

“Yeah, you know. Made mini. Probably Wheeljack’s fault. Soundwave was close to the epicenter of the explosion when his new invention blew. I figure it went wrong and made Sounders small.”

“No, Hot Rod.” Optimus chuckled, mask sliding away to shoot his soldier an amused look. “I suspect your theory on Wheeljack’s machine is correct, but he is most definitely a Sparkling, not just mini.”

“Seriously? How do you know?” he squinted. “Is it a Matrix thing?”

“I have seen Sparklings before, Hot Rod.” Primus informed him dryly, still clearly amused.

Before he could question that further, another beep from the blue Sparkling interrupted them. This one sounded distinctly displeased.

Optimus snapped his attention down, and Hot Rod watched as he bent and reached out for the tiny form. “Hush now, little one.” he crooned. “I apologize. I did not mean to ignore you. Come, let’s get you to Ratchet.”

Hot Rod didn’t get why Optimus was acting like that. This was still Soundwave, wasn’t it? Unless…unless he didn’t remember? It would make sense, if he’d been reverted to his sparkling frame. Plus, if he remembered, or at least remembered clearly, he’d definitely have tried to attack them. So the little guy probably didn’t remember much, if he remembered anything at all.

He was torn from his musings by a startled yell from Optimus, and looked over quickly to see the Prime holding the Sparkling in one arm, while the other was held very tightly in the tiny Soundwave’s denta. The little bot was making an adorable snarling sound, tiny digits unsheathed to claws and digging into Optimus’s armor seams while his equally tiny fangs dug deep into his servo.

Oh, wait. That was energon. Optimus was bleeding. He yelped, leaping to action at the same time as several others who has slunk closer while he and Optimus had been talking. Bumblebee reached them first, but as soon as his servos made contact with the infant a single servo freed itself to swipe at the scout’s held out palms. Bumblebee retreated with a squawk, and Windblade surged in, her optics narrowed as she grabbed the Sparkling before he could claw her and tried to pry Soundwave off Optimus. He dug his tiny claw back into the Prime’s arms, but released his denta from his servo to shriek in protest in tandem from his squealing, snarling engine.

“Windblade, stop! You’re scaring him!” Optimus said sharply.

Windblade obeyed, but was clearly unhappy about it. “I’m scaring him? He’s a Con! Pit, he’s Soundwave! And he’s attacking you!”

“He is a Sparkling! I do not believe he has his adult memories. We are unfamiliar and frightening and he is scared.” Optimus rebutted firmly, voice raised over Soundwave’s wailing.

Hot Rod shook himself from where he’d stopped when Soundwave attacked Bumblebee. He stepped close enough to try and help, reaching out to touch the tiny Sparkling. “But can’t we get him to let you go?” he asked his Prime.

Except…at the sound of his voice, the Sparkling went quiet, and at the first touch of his digits Soundwave loosened his grip on the Autobot leader. Hot Rod continued with his original goal, and was very surprised that he was able to pull Soundwave away from Optimus without issue. He half-expected the Sparkling to go feral again as soon as he did and attack him instead, but all he did was stare at the racer past the little red visor while Optimus’s energon stained his unmasked mouth. Hot Rod held him under his arms, his pedes dangling as he stared at the tiny, now silent Sparkling.

“Uhhh, Optimus?” he said, confused.

The Prime was silent, and then he tilted his helm, holding his injured servo in his uninjured one. “Hold him securely, Hot Rod. Against your chest, one arm underneath him to support him and one around him to keep him to falling from your hold.” he instructed.

Hot Rod blinked, but obeyed easily enough, and when he did Soundwave curled up against his chestplate and his visor went dim as he offlined his optics. He stared down at the Sparkling, then looked up to Optimus.

“Uh…what now?”

“Now?” Optimus said, his voice serene. Hot Rod didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the look in his leader’s optics. It was too blank. Too peaceful. “Now, you take care of him. I’m putting Soundwave under your care until we can figure out what to do. I am going to take the others and return to the Ark. I suggest you take a longer route back, perhaps he will fall into recharge. When you return, take him to Ratchet. He’ll need to be looked over.” Then, that said, the Prime folded down to alt-mode and drove away.

Windblade followed suit, and the others around the battlefield did as well. Bumblee, the filthy traitor, just shot him an amused grin and then he too was transforming and driving away.

Hot Rod was left alone with the Decepticon-Spymaster-turned-Sparkling on the empty battlefield. “I was right.” He said to no one in particular. “I didn’t like what he said.”

He turned to the Ark, helm tilted. Then he looked down at Soundwave. He was curled up, frame relaxed and expression peaceful. He looked kinda cute, actually. Hot Rod felt his spark soften a little. Then Soundwave snuffed and pressed his face to his chestplates, and his spark softened completely.

He sighed, shaking his helm. Okay, he couldn’t be too mad. He’d had plans today, but he’d figure things out. He looked back up towards the Ark, and a distant mountain caught his attention.

An idea came to him, and he perked up.

Sure, he had to care care of Soundwave, but no one had said he couldn’t have fun while he did it. As long as it was safe, of course. And who knew, it might even wear the bitlet out and get him to recharge better.

“So,” Hot Rod said, grinning and looking down. As if sensing he was being talked to, Soundwave looked up, visor brightening. The speedster got the impression he was being focused on intently. “How do you feel about sledding down a mountain?”

———————————————————————————————————

Optimus just gave a feral sparkling to a a reckless dumbass. He’s going to have regrets, once the implications of his actions catch up. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to do anything about it. Soundwave goes feral with everyone who isn’t Hot Rod.

Anyway, hope y’all liked that! I had fun writing it, once I finally figured out what the hell I actually wanted to do with this prompt. Now to move on to the next one.

Until next time, folks!

[mrdarcygenderenvy]

2005 Joe Wright Pride & Prejudice (ranked out of 10 on my own esoteric metrics)

As Pride & Prejudice-s go, this is the Big One for a lot of people my age. It’s a classic and I have Opinions.

IN SHORT: The film is full of disgustingly lovely visuals and COMMITTED TO THE ROMANCE/ YEARNING to a degree I frankly respect. Immaculate vibes in individual scenes. Lbr, 2020 Emma wishes it had the energy of this film.

Extra credit: Romantic Horniness rating

The unashamed breathless horniness of this Mr Darcy is the defining feature of this film to me and also the film knows it. CONSIDER: the first proposal being a 100% ‘staring at each others lips angrily’ scene in the rain, the classique hand flex after he helps Elizabeth into a carriage, the mystifying choice to have him wandering the moors tits-out in the sunrise, and then fate wafts Lizzie out there too and the two of them practically try to eat/ make out with the sun like a leaning tower of Pisa photo op.

Every creative choice in this film is towards its own idea of what’s pretty and sexy - even if for me, that actually most closely lines up with my personal aesthetic when the thing they have a big hard on for is ‘shots of a lake in afternoon light’ and ‘cool rocks in the peak district’.

mmm

FAST TAKES - The (UK) ending is mystifyingly abrupt - The sisters’ casting is bang on, especially Rosamund Pike Jane (EFFERVESCENT) - Wickham barely gets a look in because everything’s too busy looking beautifully lit but maybe that’s okay - Why is Caroline Bingley wearing a sleeveless dress A CLASSIC

Wildness: 6/10. Yes, it’s a horny romance adaptation of a book whose main appeal is not necessarily romance, and what’s more classic hollywood than that. BUT ALSO, think about the swing scene where Lizzie spins a bit and the seasons pass, the choice to have a pig walking through the house and prominent pig balls shot, and the admirably bold idea of prioritising a long continuous shots of ‘lake’ and ‘in and out of the windows of the house’ over bothering to flesh out Wickham or Mary or explain why Lizzie is inside Darcy’s house. Also, the ‘sculpture gallery, having a big wank over classicism and colonial spoils’ vibe bit of Darcy’s house MAY BE in a real old house, but it fully looks like they’ve teleported to the modern day british museum in a piece of masterful surrealism. This film is fervently here for the aesthetic above all else, including things making sense, and surely there’s a feral energy to that.

LAKE!!!!

Mr Darcy gender envy rating: 4/10. I do not personally find Matthew Macfadyen attractive and I’m pride and prejudiced against this era’s hair. That said, he is tall, which I do envy, and he is a bit pathetic, which I relate to.

(TANGENT, I’m arguably more envious of his cheating, boisterous, lusciously moustachio’d avatar in 2012 Anna Karenina, a very theatrically visually lovely adaptation by the same director where him and Kiera Knightley are brother and sister both giving sort of ‘fun horny fuckup’ vibes. If you liked this P&P, I recommend this film. Also do you think despite Jude Law always having nasty energy, he only started being increasingly cast as evil as his hairline receded because society is terrible? I’M GETTING OFF TRACK.)

How much I have a crush on Elizabeth rating: 8/10, Kiera Knightley is obviously a babe but as a young teenager I was definitely more emotionally overcome by seeing her being a pirate

Shoutout to: That fucking great tree Elizabeth sits on in Derbyshire. THIS IS MY FAVOURITE SCENE OF THE FILM IT’S SUCH A GOOD TREE

Also shoutout to the Lady Catherine Reveal scene that my partner thinks is really funny because they really linger on revealing it’s Judi Dench. Like ‘guess who we fucking got…… wait for it…. JUDI DENCH, BABY!!!!’ and then she’s sitting in this insane room of paintings which I guess is just the fanciest filming location they could find, who needs context

OVERALL RATING: a wet horny classic

[wonhaebunny]

a,, a crying katsuki fic— just,, maybe a prank by the rest of 1-a to be mean to katsuki all day but ofc they didn’t expect him to cry??? then they would just baby him the rest of the day the end :)

hi!! sorry for the late response, this took a fair bit of time to flesh out!! it ended up being like 2.5k long lmao OOPS. anyways i kinda strayed a tiiny bit from your prompt but i hope this is still okay :’) 

tw// panic attacks and just teenagers being idiots and slightly ignorant in general

-

it started as a joke.

really, it did.

they’d been messing around during lunch, and in the middle of telling a joke, denki had wrapped an arm around katsuki’s neck easily.

it wasn’t anything new, this routine. denki giving his affection, katsuki rejecting it remorselessly.

what wasn’t routine was the miniscule flinch of katsuki’s shoulders under denki’s arm, before he was snarling, shoving the latter a way a little too hard.

“geez man, accept my love!” denki had whined loudly, but the other just cursed at him with hard eyes. 

he was grumpier than usual for the rest of the day, but denki brushed it off as one of his many bad moods.

that was, until a few days later when hanta placed a hand at the base of the back of katsuki’s neck absent-mindedly during class and the blonde had whipped around so fast he sent his table flying, explosions already flickering to life in his palms.

“calm down, dude, I was just passing on the homework packets,” sero said, eyeing the blonde’s tensed shoulders warily. katsuki was silent a few moments, eyes scanning the classroom as if daring them to say anything, before he finally snatched the packet from hanta’s outstretched hand and sat back down at his seat with a scowl and his shoulders hiked to his ears. no one mentioned it, simply watching in apprehension. but denki’s brain was whirring.

he mentioned it to mina in passing during english class.

“dude, bakubro’s totally got a ticklish neck!” he said to her under his breath, and she turned to give him a dubious look.

“i don’t think he’s capable of having a ticklish anything, kami.”

their gazes both flicked over to the blonde in question, who was quietly working through his worksheet diligently like the nerd he was.

then, slowly, mina tore a corner off her paper and scrunched it into a ball, before tossing it at katsuki’s back. the two watched in silence as it sailed through the air and ricocheted off the back of their target’s neck. the second the ball made impact, katsuki’s head was snapping around and his pencil was snapped in his grip, explosions flickering in his hands again and earning a look of exasperation from present mic. katsuki’s almost feral gaze snapped onto the duo, and he gave them a look of pure wrath that they met with sheepish smiles.

word spread quickly after that, and it became a small contest in the class to try and touch katsuki’s neck to watch him squirm.

eijirou looked uneasy at the idea of riling him up like this, and izuku was downright annoyed at the little game, giving everyone who participated in it a disappointed frown. but everyone else continued nonetheless, even students like ochako and rikido getting involved.

tsuyu would brush the back of her hand across his neck when walking past where he was seated on the common room couch, and the class would hide their snickers at the way the blonde would jerk to his feet and away from the touch, palms crackling menacingly.

mina would wrap her arms around his neck in an impromptu piggyback in the corridors and get thrown to the floor for her efforts, grinning all the while at the reaction she garnered.

(none of them noticed the way katsuki’s shoulders would tremble minutely even after the touches faded, or the way his eyes would grow distant and panicked. of course they didn’t - not when he hid it behind explosions and loud cursing.)

it went on for more than a week, katsuki growing increasingly irate and agitated with each instance. he avoided everyone more, except for eijirou and, surprisingly, izuku.

he would eat his meals in his room, wear his jackets with the collar popped up. at trainings, his explosions were erratic and frenzied, and in class he would snap at anyone who approached him, reverting back into his anger the way he had in their first year.

“i think you guys should stop.” izuku had said quietly around a mouthful of pork at dinner one night. the class was seated in the common room sans katsuki and eijirou, who were eating in the latter’s room. “you’re getting him worked up for no reason.”

he’d been brushed off easily, the class laughing his suggestion away.

“loosen up, mido,” kyouka grinned, bumping his shoulder lightly. “bakugou’s just allergic to affection, we’re messing around.”

“you can consider this exposure therapy!” mina piped up, earning another round of chuckles.

izuku scowled into his rice. “you’re not therapists.” he muttered under his breath.

that night when katsuki and eijirou brought their dishes down to wash them in the kitchen, yuuga brushed past them and trailed a finger across the side of katsuki’s throat innocently, making him drop his plate and jerk away with a curse.

“will you fucking- stop!” he roared, face growing red instantly and lips parting in a snarl. “stop it! stop fucking touching me!”

yuuga apologized easily with glinting eyes and glid out of the kitchen, leaving katsuki hunched over the counter with clenched, trembling fists.

after a moment of tense silence, katsuki finally dropped his plate in the sink and stomped away, not even bothering to wash it. eijirou followed him quietly, turning to give the sniggering occupants of the common room a glare as he passed.

“you guys are being so unmanly.” he muttered with a frown.

“what an overreaction.” he faintly heard mineta pipe up from the couches as the door closed behind them.

“dude,” eijirou called, speed-walking to catch up to the blonde. he raised a hand to put it on katsuki’s shoulder but was shoved away roughly.

“fucking leave it, shitty-hair.” katsuki spat, storming into his room and slamming the door shut behind him.

eijirou was left standing in silence, staring at the closed door in frustration as he realized katsuki had gone back to calling him that goddamn nickname after the entire year it took to finally convince him to use his name.

it came to a head two days later.

katsuki had been studying at the common room tables while the class was out training. he’d fallen asleep at some point, head buried in the arms he had crossed over the desk.

the class started filtering in slowly at some point, eyeing his prone form slyly as they entered. eijirou was nowhere in sight, probably still outside, and izuku was at an internship meeting.

the one to finally make the move was denki. he sidled up to katsuki, inching a hand towards his unmoving form as the group watched in anticipation. then, as quickly as possible, he wrapped his hand around the back of katsuki’s neck, palm pressing flat against the skin, and squeezed.

it happened so fast denki was left disoriented. one moment katsuki was asleep and then next he was startling awake with a strangled curse, explosions crackling at his palms as he jerked away and to his feet.

“dude, dude, it’s just me, chill!” denki had cried between snorts of laughter, the entire class watching the scene in amusement.

but katsuki didn’t calm down. in his half-asleep state, he lurched away from denki’s outstretched hands with an aborted cry, sparks in his hands growing to dangerously large explosions.

“imagine that,” kyouka snickered into her palm. “the great and mighty bakugou katsuki, bested by a single touch to his neck.”

she didn’t see katsuki’s flinch at the words, the way his face twisted and his shoulders began to tremble.

spitting out another string of weak curses, katsuki turned away from them and towards the dorm rooms only to be stopped by a bewildered eijirou, who had just entered.

“what’s going on?” he asked hesitantly, eyeing his snickering classmates and then katsuki, who was trembling in his grip with a lowered head.

“fucking let me go, please, just stop,” the blonde whispered hoarsely, quietly enough that only eijirou heard it. the redhead blanched at the words, almost losing his hold on the blonde’s arm.

“what the hell is going on?” he demanded, at the group this time.

the class were still chortling slightly, unable to see katsuki’s expression from where he was turned away and assuming his shaking was in rage.

“you think this is how the villains got him?” mineta leered. “just a hand at his neck? must’ve been easy as hell!”

eijirou felt the flinch that ran through katsuki’s body at the words, and the blonde’s head dipped even lower, hair falling over his face. his breathing was shallow, chest starting to heave slightly.

“hey-“ eijirou began, but shouto was already cutting him off with a frown.

“that’s too far, mineta.” he said quietly, looking irritated. a few of the students nodded in agreement, suddenly looking less amused after the purple boy’s comment.

"i'm just messing around!" mineta shot back.

"well don't mess around about tha-"

a choked sob cut through the argument, and they all froze, heads swiveling to the source.

“bakugou?” eijirou asked quietly. the blonde’s body was trembling visibly at this point, shoulders shaking and hand pressed to his mouth tightly. a droplet of moisture fell from his bowed head and onto the floor, and eijirou blanched.

“shit- dude. bakugou.” he reached for the blonde’s shoulder only for him to flinch away from the touch violently, uncontrolled explosions roaring at his palms. another sob tore itself from the blonde’s throat, echoing through the silent common room.

“what’s going on?” mina asked quietly, looking completely terrified.

“someone get aizawa-sensei.” eijirou whispered. “i don’t- i don’t know-”

tenya ran off in search of their teacher instantly, and eijirou turned to the hunched over blonde, gently ushering him away from the centre of the room and towards a corner.

“bakugou,” he tried slowly, an edge of panic seeping into his own voice at the sight of his best friend’s tear-stained and rapidly reddening face. “katsuki. you need to breathe.”

the blonde shook his head, expression twisting desperately. “c-can’t,” he choked out, hand creeping up to clutch the back of his own neck. “can’t, i can’t!”

tears were falling freely at this point, staining katsuki’s shirt quickly.

“no, they’re- i can’t, please-” katsuki gasped, grip tightening at his neck until the skin went white.

eijirou’s eyes were starting to well with tears at his own helplessness, when aizawa-sensei came skidding into the common room.

“what happened.” he asked briskly, maneuvering eijirou away from katsuki smoothly.

“i- i don’t know, he just started-” eijirou tried numbly. “i don’t know.”

aizawa-sensei pulled katsuki out of the common room and into the corridor, and the class was left standing in tense silence.

“i told you guys to stop!” eijirou cried finally, voice shrill as tears finally rolled down his own cheeks. “i told you!”

his classmates flinched, all of them pale and shaken.

no one spoke.

they waited unmoving until aizawa-sensei was walking back in, a still-trembling but slightly better-looking katsuki trailing behind him with swollen eyes trained on the floor.

“someone better explain to me what the hell happened.” their teacher said finally, murder in his eyes.

mina was the one to do it, shakily explaining with stilted pauses how the game had started.

aizawa-sensei listened quietly, expression growing stonier with every passing word. when the pink-skinned girl finally finished with tears welling in her eyes, he fixed them all with a stare angrier than the one they had received after kamino.

“do you all know what that was?” he asked lowly. “harassment. you harassed your classmate.”

a flinch ran through the group at the word.

“sensei, we didn’t mean to-” denki began quietly, but he was stopped by the teacher’s raised hand.

“i don’t care what you meant. i’m telling you what it was. you harassed your classmate and led him to a panic attack. you’ve all been through enough together to understand the trauma that can follow your experiences as heroes, so why did none of you have the common sense to stop and consider why bakugou didn’t want you touching his neck?”

silence followed his words for a long moment, before realization dawned on the class as one.

“oh my god,” ochako whispered in horror, eyes filling with tears. denki and mina went very still next to her, stilling as their own eyes widened in guilt. the atmosphere in the room grew heavy, and their gazes slowly trailed to the blonde sitting hunched at eijirou’s side, still trembling minutely.

“i think you all owe bakugou an apology.” their teacher said finally. “every single one of you except kirishima and midoriya will be attending after school detention every day for a week.”

for the first time ever, there were no protests. aizawa-sensei pushed to his feet, and with a lingering glare at the group of them, brushed out of the common room.

when the door shut behind him, they sat in tense silence.

“bakugou,” eijirou whispered hoarsely to the unmoving blonde at his side. “can i-”

his arm reached out, making an aborted movement to hug the blonde before he paused mid-way. but a moment later, katsuki leaned forward to bury his face in the redhead’s shoulder and nodded weakly in consent. eijirou’s arm settled around him slowly, resting at his hip and avoiding his neck area clearly.

“b-bakugou?” denki started shakily. “i fucked up really bad. i’m sorry.”

katsuki shrugged weakly against eijirou’s chest.

“’s fuckin’ whatever.” he mumbled roughly.

“no!” mina cried. “it’s not whatever! we were horrible to you even though you kept telling us to stop!”

“i’m sorry, too,” ochako echoed quietly. “it was easy to forget how traumatic kamino would have been. you’re so strong that i forgot you were a person like us, and i never thought about how you would have been affected by it.”

there were murmurs of agreement throughout the group as they all gave their apologies to the awkwardly fidgeting blonde.

“this is fucking stupid.” he muttered finally, flushing slightly. “can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

they all chuckled lightly.

“it’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” mina insisted. “if i was in your position i probably would’ve cried the entire time the villains had me!”

“honestly, i think they’d just return you at that point, ashido.” hanta mused, earning another round of laughter.

“well maybe that was my escape plan the whole time!” she cried dramatically. “we can’t all be inhumanly strong and powerful like our bakugou over here!”

she kicked at his side lightly amidst the class’ laughter, eyeing him cautiously as if checking if the touch was allowed.

katsuki just nodded at her once, making her beam as her shoulders sagged in relief.

“shut up, dumbass.” he rasped, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

from his side, eijirou watched the exchange with a faint grin of his own.

(later, izuku would return from his internship and receive a rundown on what happened. the class would cower as they received a stern talking-to from the green-haired boy that put aizawa-sensei’s lecture to shame, while katsuki sat behind him and watched the entire thing smugly.)

[captainrexisboo]

Dumb Luck #3

Note: Heyoooooo two updates in one weekend, whaaaaat? No, actually a fun fact, this was started out as my part 2, but i liked my other idea of building the tension with Sweets seeing Rex with his helmet off for the first time better. There will be a part four, it just wont come as quick! I’m gonna have several more parts to this, I have plans y’all. This chapter has ~slight angst~ if you squint hard enough. Again, I’m open to criticism or Hot Takes TM, I’m still a novice writer! Both my asks and messages are open to everyone! Also... y’all, Jesse is a bro. He’s great.

a link to part two- https://captianrexisboo.tumblr.com/post/623995723815452672/dumb-luck-2

Warnings: suggestive language (the usual)

Tags: @persaloodles @starflyer-104 @imalovernotahater @holamor @000ayfh

~

“Hey, Sweets-“

“Not now, busy,” she threw over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at who was walking up to her corner of the hangar.

Y/N was greatly enjoying herself as an assistant to the head mechanic aboard the flagship. She quickly learned about not only the venator-class destroyer, but also about gunships, shuttles, frigates, landers, even more about her beloved droids, and her absolute favorite to work on, the starfighters. If she were alone in the hangars, she would walk over to the rows of starfighters and just study them, marvelling at every screw, panel, and wire and how it built something so amazing. And right now, she was actually able to work on one of these beautiful machines, and she’d be damned if she let anyone stop her workflow.

Rex lifted a brow at her mannerisms as he watched her dive elbow deep into a much older fighter model, one that hadn’t ever been repainted and typically was the last to be boarded and flown out by shinies who didn’t know any better. She was squatting low to the ground, a panel gone from the ship while she tinkered with its insides, hair barely secure, strands falling out of the haphazardly tied bun she had kept in place with only a single stylus. He was still conflicted at her presence on the ship. She had proven to be smart, quick witted, and of course was an absolute stunner, but she was also stubborn as hell, distracting, and always there. Always a mere moment away, in the hangar, in the generator room, in the mess, the repair bay, the armory- and he hasn’t known peace since.

Let’s be honest, he hasn’t known peace since he met General Skywalker, but he was able to have an illusion of what it was like whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Now he didn’t even have that, his internal narrative shaping into her curves before too long, even in his solitude. Things were different with her here, they were more on edge, like he was tiptoeing around her in a delicate dance to avoid a situation where either of them could build onto their practically visible tension. Kix had told him, ever the blunt medic, that he could cut their tension straight through the air with a scalpel it was so obvious. But he was a Captain, and had a job to do, so when he heard that she had been seen speeding down the halls to the hangars with her tools despite all the ships passing inspection just a few hours ago, he knew he had to be sure she wasn’t doing anything out of protocol. He had grabbed Jesse before making his way to the hangar, in case a mediator was needed, and was now grinding his teeth at the woman concentrating so intensely she didn’t even care to look who else was in the room. He shared a flat look with Jesse before clearing his throat to make his presence known, “You might want to take a break, Y/N.”

She paused what she was doing, her shoulders tightening. Only Rex ever used her actual name, especially when he was in one of his damn moods. This was weird, though, him seeking her out. Recently it seemed as if he had been avoiding her, or making sure they weren’t alone if they had to be in the same room. Try as she could to get his attention, get him all flustered, he’d always just be slightly out of reach, and she was getting increasingly frustrated. She rolled her eyes, summoning her signature bravado before she smoothly stood up to turn around, jutting a hip out and giving a lazy salute, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Jesse tried to mask his giggles under a cough, watching the two interact was his favorite pastime. Rex took note for later to ask a different intermediary for the next strife, before pointing his head to the ship, “What are you doing to that fighter?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” she smiled brightly, almost prideful, wiping her grease slicked hands on the pant leg of her GAR jumpsuit, “Messing with this lovely hunk of junk.”

“Messing with it?” Rex questioned, barely hiding his glance at the handprint now crudely placed on her thigh.

“Gave myself a project to work on,” she explained sauntering towards the pair of troopers with an arm outstretched to the ship, “Boys, meet my baby.”

“Your baby?” Rex slowly tore his gaze off her to look over the fighter blandly, “What a miracle of science.”

“Is Artoo the dad?” Jesse snickered, before receiving a light smack on the arm from the woman. She still chuckled at the quip, showing good humor to him. Despite being absolutely infuriating, Jesse was quickly becoming a good friend to her, like a brother she never wanted.

“Did you get permission before completely gutting the engine, at least?” Rex asked, looking around at the parts that lay on the floor, surrounding her workspace.

She sighed, “Yes, I did, just a bit ago. Ask Caine, he was the final sign off on it. Went through all the proper channels.”

Rex's jaw twitched, stiffening the hand holding his helmet, “It didn’t come through on my end.”

“Maybe it didn’t need to,” she shot, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, “I’m sure there are some things on this ship that don’t require your approval, sir.”

There it is. The way she said that word got him all riled up. It was one little word, one he got called by from every trooper on every hour of every rotation, but it was her honey-coated voice saying it that drove him to his limit. Every time she spoke the word to him it was like a challenge, daring him to expose his desirous aggression toward her, taunting his mask of composure. Every time she spoke, with a demanding storm in her glare and candy pink lips being teasingly assaulted by her own teeth, it stirred a fire in him he didn’t quite know how to quell. It was maddening, and got worse and burned deeper with every encounter. Before he could dig himself deeper into her trap, he simply pulled on his helmet with a slight growl, and turned on his heel to stalk away from the conversation, barely grumbling out a gruff, “I’m going to talk to Caine.”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Y/N felt herself wilt a bit as she watched him go, taken aback by the retreat, and admittedly a little disappointed. Usually he’d last longer.

Jesse let out a stale bark of laughter, “Same thing that crawled up yours.”

“Jesse,” she warned, cold eyes coming up to focus on him, drawing out his name as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Sweets,” he mimicked her tone and stance, chuckling low, “Why don’t you just go after him? He’s all pent-up and frustrated, I don’t think the troops can take another feral sparring session. Hell, I don’t think I can take it. Think of the poor shinies.”

She shrugged at him, rolling her eyes as her head lolled to the side, “What can I say, I’m a self-destructive mess that likes to delay my own happiness and ultimate satisfaction.”

“Bantha shit,” Jesse rolled his own amber-hazel eyes at her, “I think you're just a brat.”

She laughed lowly, batting her lashes at him, “Same thing, trooper.”

She turned around, intent on continuing her work before she felt a gloved hand wrap itself around her elbow, turning her back to face the ARC, “I’m serious. Why are you dragging this out, adding to the pressure? If you keep this up, one of you will explode before too long, and then- whether it’s a good explosion, or a bad one- there’s gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in its wake.”

She lifted a brow at his wording, “Was that innuendo literal, or-”

“Ew,” Jesse blanched, letting go of her arm and scrunching his face at the mental image., “That’s my ori’vod!”

Y/N threw her hands up in a mock surrender with a devilish smirk on her lips, “Look, you’re the one who said it.”

“Just answer the question, maker!”

She was silent for a minute, pursing her lips as she gathered her thoughts together. Jesse was staring intently at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits in her focused state, and she exhaled slowly through her mouth, “I...I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Sure, we banter, and I flirt, but I don’t know if he legitimately thinks of me the same way. I mean, today he just walked away from our conversation, and it made me feel kind of dejected. He seemed...I don’t know. Exasperated. Like he’s tired of me.”

Jesse had never seen her so vulnerable, so small. Sure, she was easily more than a head shorter than them, but her confidence and charisma always made her seem like she was eight feet tall. She twirled a lock of stray hair around her fingers, looking anywhere but Jesse as she continued, “His responses always vary, so I can’t pin down his exact feelings! He can either be cold and dismissive like today, or he can be actively matching my turn of phrase, there's no in between. So I always just...well, I tease him, you’ve seen it. I’m just testing the waters, seeing if he’s interested.”

“Sweets-“ Jesse cut himself off as he let a heavy hand fall onto her lithe shoulder, “Y/N, look at me.”

At the sound of her name, she blinked up at him, biting her lip to keep from pouting. Jesse was about to continue, barely opening his mouth to begin, when there was a greeting from behind them.

“There she is, right where you left her, Captain!”

Rex had come back, face unreadable as he looked between Jesse and Y/N. An older, brown man walked next to him, tall and lean with a salt and pepper fade, his smile as wide as his stride, “Sweets, lass! Making headway on that pile of scrap, huh?”

“Yes sir, Caine,” she greeted, standing upright and saluting him properly before turning offhandedly to Rex and crossing her arms, “Captain.”

Rex felt his jaw twitch at the sudden chill coming off of her, his brow furrowing at the sudden switch in her demeanor. Caine continued waving his arms, animatedly gesturing to the fighter, “This ship will run better than the day it was bought when you’re through with it, I know it. But, our most thorough Captain here has made it known to me that we did skip a step in approving your request.”

She looked Rex up and down, crossed arms tightening over her ribcage, “Oh really? And what step would that be?”

“Admiral Wulff Yularen,” Rex answered, tone even and cool to match her own, “You’re right in that it wouldn’t pass over my desk, however these are still Republic owned ships. He needs to approve...whatever you’re doing before you continue.”

She bit her lip and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep through her nose, before responding, “Fine. I’ll clean up my station. Is there a time I can meet with the Admiral to discuss my mistake?”

Rex began to respond, before Jesse stepped in, “I’ll go explain the situation to him. Caine, would you mind tagging along?”

“Let’s stop by my office to get her approval request forms. Anything that makes this take longer, it gets me away from the repair reports,” Caine guffawed as he walked away with Jesse, leaving the Captain and mechanic on their own. He shifted as her burning stare held onto him for an extended moment after the two had left.

“What?” he growled out, growing aggravated at the silent attitude she was giving him.

“You’re a fucking tattle tale,” she spat out before turning on her heel to begin picking up her tools and various discarded parts of the fighter, “Going to my boss because a form didn’t come your way.”

“What are you, a youngling?” he shot back, but striding over to help her out, “I’m doing you a favor! If Admiral Yularen had found out one of his ships had been tampered with, without his permission, he’d blacklist you from the GAR and put you in a ship to drop you on that same dirt ball we found you on.”

Admiral Yularen was much more empathetic than that, and would not go as far as that for a punishment. But she didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m not tampering with it- don’t touch my tools,” she looked over to see him dropping her wrenches and welders unceremoniously into her box, “I’m not tampering, I’m fixing. I’m a mechanic, it’s what I kriffin do, I’m sure he’d understand.”

He continued to pick up her scattered tools as she turned back to the disorganized pieces of metal with a roll of his eyes, “That may be so, but the GAR has a very strict way of doing things, and unfortunately the line of command doesn’t just stop at Caine for you. In fact-“

“I said don’t touch my tools!”

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you!” he nearly yelled at her, his voice booming in the high ceilings of the hangar, “Anything I’ve done today, is to help you!”

She scoffed, unmoved by his commanding demeanor, “Sure, help me. You didn’t even want me on this ship to begin with!”

“That’s-“

“You still don’t like me, do you? Is that why you don’t respond to my advances?” she was stalking toward him now, her mess and tools pushed to the farthest corner of her mind until they got this discussion over with. He stood his ground as she got closer, standing at his full height but looking her directly in the eyes nonetheless.

“Y/N-“

“I flirt and tease you all damn day and you just ignore me! Or worse, you respond and then leave when you realize you might’ve reacted a little too positively. I’d at least like a solid no from you, make yourself clear, please!”

“Hey!” he laid two strong hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, “Shut. Up.”

She glared at him, but complied, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she stood defiantly to him, as tall as she could under his grip. He allowed himself a slow breath, inhale through his nose, hold, exhale through his mouth. He softened his hold, and let his deep honey eyes search her stormy glare, delving into the depths of her soul to make sure she understood, “I think I like you, Y/N. More than I ought to.”

He let that sink in, his cheeks flushing at his own sudden boldness but keeping a lock on her gaze. She raised her brows in surprise, eyes going wide as her agitation subsided, being replaced with something more delicate before sputtering out, “Oh. Okay. Uh, great. So...why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He let out a dark chuckle, letting his eyelids get heavy, “Always one for tact.”

She shrugged under his grasp, a slight grin gracing her features at his amused expression, “Would you expect anything less?”

He shook his head, letting his lips twitch upwards as his thumbs absentmindedly rubbed circles into her shoulders, before clearing his throat, “If you had let me finish earlier, your chain of command doesn’t stop at Caine. It includes Yularen, Skywalker, and me. If I’m seen to be ‘romantically involved’ with a crewmember, I could be court martialed. And then you’d be-“

“Sent back to that rock you picked me up from,” she finished for him, letting a hand come up to rub gently at his right wrist, before sighing, “Maker, I hate it when you’re right.”

“It’s a miracle you still like me, then,” he let a cheeky smile pull through his face, causing her to let out a soft giggle. Somewhere between their dispute and his confession, his voice had shifted to a low, coarse whisper that made her want to hang onto every word. He let a hand off her shoulder, gripping her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you understand, cyar’ika?”

Her breath was stolen from her as she watched his eyes glance down to her lips, his thumb gently pulling at her skin to have her bottom lip pop out of it’s sharp hold. She shuddered, a pleasant quiver going down her spine as she nodded at him. She fluttered her lashes at him as he chuckled low at her response, “What does that mean?”

“Promise not to get mad?” he smirked at her, as a matching blush sweeping over both their cheeks.

“Rex,” she quirked a brow at him playfully, drawling out his name almost musically. He smiled wide at her, practically spellbound with how his name sounded on her lips.

“It’s Mando’a,” he paused for effect, looking around to make sure no out of place soldiers were looking over before dipping low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “for sweetheart.”

She laughed, the sound warm and full, splaying a hand over his armored heart, the plastoid cool underneath her palm, “Fine. But only you are allowed to call me that.”

She pushed him lightly, having him let go of her shoulders. They stood there, smiling at each other, skin burning where the other’s hands had been, gazes soft with mutual ache. Y/N sighed, “So, what does this mean? For us.”

Rex thought for a minute, walking around her to continue where they had left off cleaning. After she had joined him, he hummed in response, “I think it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” she repeated, finishing up putting all the spares and discarded parts in an unlabelled crate next to the fighter. She leaned against the crate, arms crossing as she grinned at him, “What kind of a promise?”

“After the war is done,” Rex explained, tone surprisingly optimistic, “we can travel the galaxy together. No enemies to be on lookout for, not having to worry about getting caught by my nosy men-”

“Does it have to wait till after the war?” she whined, but still watching him as if he were hanging the stars as opposed to just picking up her tool box. He handed her the plasteel case, latching it closed with one deft hand.

“We can discuss that later,” he sent her a sly wink. She rolled her eyes, righting herself off the crate and looking up at him with the familiar teasing glint in her eyes that he’s come to find very charming.

“Just because you’ve finally confessed, don’t think this means I’ll stop toying with you, sir.”

All he could do was let his smile grow, just thinking about all the alluring ways she’ll drive him crazy, “I never wanted you to stop.”

[illyrianbeauty]

A Not So Chance Encounter: Chapter 26

Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.

Fic Masterlist

Writing Masterlist

Chapter 26: The trouble is, you think you have time

Ok... so it’s been like almost been a year since I’ve update this. Thank you all for being so supportive these last few months! It’s definitely been a struggle, but things are much better now that my Tamlin is out of my life! 

Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel

*** 

Rhys often looked back on his misadventures during his adolescent years and wondered how the fuck he, Az, and Cass were still alive.  Az, arguably the most levelheaded of the family, had often grumbled about his and Cassian’s antics, even going so far as to keep a running tab on the outcomes of their plans, and the inevitable disasters that followed.  Points were earned for both creativity and daring, while any scheme that resulted in major bodily harm, or their parents finding out, resulted in a substantial loss of points.  Last he had checked, Rhys was in the lead, ahead of Cass by a whooping eleven points.  

One of Rhys’s best ideas, and therefore the most idiotic, had led to them breaking into Adventure Island, aptly referred to as Ghost Town in the Sky by Prythian’s elite.  The events leading up to the water park being shut down had become somewhat of an urban legend in their community, and one of the reasons it had since become a popular spot for keggers and raves alike.  The enormous waterslides, a mismatched heap of tarnished metal and graffiti, were as recognizable in Prythian’s skyline as The Heptagon itself, the city’s sleek, pristine capital building.

Born out of severe boredom and an astronomical amount of tequila shots, Rhys had suggested that they climb to the top of The Leviathan, the largest attraction that was still standing in the abandoned park.  Just as Rhys had predicted, Cassian had flashed him a shit eating grin and motioned for Rhys to lead the way. They were nearly to the top of the structure when the rung on which Cassian was standing gave way.  Rhys, a good fifteen feet above Cass, was too far away to do anything except stare in utter horror as Cass dangled from the tips of his fingers, nearly two hundred feet in the air.  By the time Rhys had climbed down, Cassian had already hoisted himself up onto the platform, out of harm’s way.  They had all laughed themselves silly once they were safely on the ground, but Rhys had seen the fear in Cassian’s eyes as the corroded hunk of metal struck the ground far below them.  

That had been the first time in his life that Rhys had felt completely and utterly useless.  He never told anyone, especially not to Cass or Az, but the feeling of inadequacy and helplessness he had felt in that moment, nearly crippling in its intensity, had haunted him for weeks after that reckless night.  

That same feeling, the horrible realization that he was wholly incapable of helping those he loved, settled deep into his bones, into his very soul, as pain flashed across the delicate features of Feyre’s face.    

“You’ve won, Mara.  I’m yours.  Just… just let her go.  Please,” Rhys begged, the words tasing lake ash in his mouth.  Feyre narrowed her eyes, giving him a look that clearly said Shut the fuck up and get me out of here.  Asshole.  Tearing his gaze from Feyre’s, he forced himself to meet Amarantha’s cold, calculating stare.  It was almost poetic, this disaster his life had become.  A nightmare that he couldn’t seem to escape, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried.  His past had been resurrected, brought back to haunt him, and was hellbent on destroying his future.  The future he so desperately wanted to share with Feyre.  He could see it all so clearly.  The life they could have had together, the love they could have shared.  His heart ached knowing it was over, before it even had a chance to begin.  Rhys scarcely dared breathe as he took a single step forward, towards Feyre.   

“Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Amarantha chided, slowly running the tip of her blade across Feyre’s bottom lip, not hard enough for it to cut into her flesh, but enough to get her point across.  Rhys raised his hands placatingly, and moved back a fraction of an inch.  

“Good boy,” Amarantha purred, the corners of her mouth twisting into a hateful little smirk.  She grasped Feyre’s chin, wrenching her head to the side roughly.  

“Where shall we begin?” she mused, scrutinizing Feyre’s face as though she were an artist inspecting canvass.  Feyre wrenched her chin from Amarantha’s grasp.  

“You crazy, fucking bitch,” Feyre snarled, her expression nearly feral.  She tilted her head back and spat at Amarantha.  Rhys almost felt like laughing at Feyre’s audacity.  Almost.  The look of unmitigated rage that burned in her eyes made his blood ran cold, stopping the smallest chuckle from passing his lips.  His breath hitched as Amarantha unhurriedly ran a hand across her check, wiping away any traces of the spittle.  Her expression was fierce, a promise of retribution, both swift and brutal, was etched across her features.    

Amarantha clucked her tongue and said, “Naughty, naughty.”  His brave, beautiful Feyre glared defiantly at Amarantha.  The two woman stood there for a moment, regarding each other carefully.  Every single one of his instincts was roaring at him, urging him to get Feyre far away from this place.  Beads of sweat trickled down the nape of his neck, his breathing growing increasingly difficult.    

Faster than he was able to anticipate, she lashed out, her movements both practiced and graceful, and plunged the blade deep into Feyre’s thigh.  Rhys had never heard anything as terrifying, as devastating, as Feyre’s piercing, shrill scream.  His stomach heaved at the site of the pink stiletto handle jutting out of her flesh.  Blood gushed from the wound, soaking the denim of her jeans and pooling onto the floor.   

“Hush now pet, “  Amarantha cooed, caressing Feyre’s cheek.  Her fingers, wet with blood, left crimson trails across Feyre’s skin.  

“What do you want?” Rhys asked, his voice coming out in a hoarse, broken rasp, betraying the fear roiling violently through him.   Amarantha turned to face him fully, ignoring Feyre completely.  If he could just keep her occupied… 

Amarantha cocked her head to the side, considering his question.   

“Why Rhysand, I thought that it was quite obvious,” she purred, taking a step towards him.    Good.  He needed to get her the fuck away from Feyre.   

“Why don’t you just explain it to me,” he said, taking a step back, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly, gauging the distance between her and Feyre. 

“What I want, my love, is for you to suffer,” she said, practically spitting out the last word.  Amarantha closed the distance between them, her eyes never once leaving his.  She stopped only when she was a hair's breadth away.  Her expression was murderous, rage radiating off her in violent waves.  As she leaned towards him, Rhys had to force himself to stand his ground, to not recoil from her touch  Her lips grazed the shell of his ear as she whispered, “I want to watch you break.  I want to watch you crumble as I destroy everyone and everything that you love.”  Her words hit Rhys like a punch to the gut.  Deep down, he had always known that this would happen, had come to expect it.  He had always known that he was tainted, cursed.  Those whom he loved inevitably ended up suffering.  First his mother and sister.  Now Feyre.  He knew that he had absolutely no chance of walking out of this house alive.  It was far too late for him.  But Feyre didn’t need to share his fate.  He would do whatever he had to to make sure she got out of this fucking mess he had gotten her into.  When she was out, when she was safe, he was going to bring this entire fucking house down around Amarantha.  If Rhys was going to hell, then he was damn well going to take Amarantha with him.  

“For fucks sake Rhys, just punch the bitch and get me the hell out of here,” Feyre sobbed, her face growing paler by the second.  The air was heavy with the coppery scent of blood.  It oozed out of the wound and down her leg, pooling on the ground at her feet at an alarming rate.  She was loosing too much, too quickly.  He needed to get her out of here.  Now.  Amaranths’s heels clacked against the cement floor as she stalked towards Feyre.    

“Such dramatics,” she murmured, running a hand through Feyre’s hair.  She shrank back, her body seeming to cave in on itself as Amarantha wound a strand of her golden- brown hair around a finger.  

Now was his chance, while Amarantha was distracted.  He had to do something, before Feyre bled to death before his eyes.  Ever so slowly, Rhys reached for his weapon, praying Amarantha wouldn’t sense his movements.  He removed the gun from his waistband, his eyes never leaving Amarantha’s form.  Rhys winced as he disengaged the safety, the sound seeming to reverberate throughout the entire room.  

“Amarantha, step away from her now,” he said, fighting to keep his hand steady as he aimed the gun directly at her chest.  Amusement danced in her eyes as she took in the weapon he held.  Feyre hissed as Amarantha’s hand grazed across the hilt of the stiletto, still imbedded deeply in her leg, as she walked around to Feyre’s other side.  Fuck.  Amarantha had effectively positioned Feyre between them, using her body like some sort of fucking human shield.  Amarantha smirked at him, with an air of someone who was about to be named the fucking Queen of Prythian, not someone who had a fucking gun pointed at them.  

“You disappoint me Rhysand,” she said, disdain dripping off of her every word. 

“Get away from her,” he growled.  

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, resting her hands lightly on Feyre’s shoulders.  

“Don’t make me shoot you, Mara,” Rhys warned, taking a step towards her.

“Put down the gun Rhysand,” she purred, the tips of her nails scraping along the skin of Feyre’s neck.

“Get the fuck away from her right now,” he yelled, a note of desperation filling his voice.  

“Why would I do that? Things are just starting to get interesting.”  

“Is this just some fucking game to you?” he snapped, losing the tenous hold he had on his temper.  

“Of course it’s a game silly.  One I intend to win.” 

Terror overtook his expression as Amarantha’s hands roughly wrapped around Feyre’s neck.  Her beautiful, stormy grey blue eyes met his, full of fear and another emotion he couldn’t quite name.   

Feyre’s lips trembled slightly as she gasped out, “Rhys, I…”

Before either of them could react, Amarantha snapped Feyre’s neck with a vicious twist of her hands.  Rhys collapsed to the ground, his knees striking the ground with a resounding thud as he watched the light fade from her eyes.  

***

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[todo-ho-ki]

Hey guys I’m drunk and in love with soft Dabi so I’m gonna post this. If it’s bad and you don’t like it then I’m going to fling myself into the sun😅

This bitch isn’t proofread, it’s my first attempt at writing smut good enough to post, and I have no idea how many words there are.

It’s midnight, which is LOVING DABI HOURS

Encore

Dabi’s signature mischievous grin spread across his face.

He tossed a small piece of fabric at you and you turned red as you spread it out to reveal the tiniest dress you’d ever seen in your life.

“D-do you expect me to wear this?”

“Of course. I got it for our date tonight.”

You two were just going to the movies, but something about all the people seeing you made you blush. You could tell it was barely legal to wear in public.

“Try it on, love.” His smile pulled at your heartstrings and you started sheepishly toward the bathroom.

“The hell are you walkin’ away for? I’m gonna see those pretty curves of yours tonight anyway.”

He was clearly dumbfounded by your sudden shyness, mouth hanging open before a sly grin crossed his face.

“If you want help all you gotta do is ask, doll.”

He slid across the bed, popping up in front of you. The look on his face said amusement, but the way his hands rubbed your sides as he pulled off your shirt said something much more sinful.

“You’re damn cute when you’re embarrassed.” His lips found your neck a few times before his fingers hooked in your waistband.

The dress slipped from your loosening grip as his mouth trailed down your neck and chest , landing on your stomach before unbuttoning your jeans.

“Shit. If you keep that up we aren’t making it to the movies,” you joked.

“I don’t mind one bit. I really just wanna see you in that dress before I fuck you senseless.” His blue eyes looked up at you before you felt the friction of denim sliding down your legs.

He grabbed at your ass playfully before smacking it, forcing a yelp.

“Dabi! Just take my pants off,” you laughed.

“Mmm. Your wish is my command, baby.” His lips pressed against the skin around your delicate lace panties before his tongue poked out to trace circles around your hips.

Your head lulled back a bit and you wrapped a hand in his soft hair.

“You naughty little girl. Not gonna stop me huh?”

“I wouldn’t-gah-dream of it. I don’t like movies that much anyway.” Your words faltered as a finger ran down the center of the lace, skimming gently over your clit.

His eyes darkened with lust and his right hand grabbed your thigh to pull it over his shoulder.

“Who am I to disagree then?” His tongue dipped between your already-dripping folds, face pressed against the lace.

It was always such a fucking sight to take in, Dabi’s face between your legs, eyes closed in concentration.

“Ah, fuck!” Your exclamation was soft but he kicked it into overdrive at the sweet sound of your voice beckoning him.

Even through the thin layer between his mouth and your sweet sensitive bud, his tongue had your knees buckling, taking hold of your senses until all you could think about was Dabi inside you.

“It’s not fair, really. You expect me to control myself when this is all it takes to get you soaking wet?”

All you could do was look down at him with an innocent grin on your face.

He hummed lightly as he pulled the lace to the side and wasted no time dipping a finger slowly into you, other hand keeping your thigh firmly in place.

A sinister smile crossed his face as he felt your toes curl at the sensation.

“Good god, doll. Always so tight for me.”

“I like to make sure of that.” You leaned your head against the wall.

He watched hazily as your wetness began to drip down his finger.

He’d decided a minute ago he wasn’t going to let you cum, but now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to wait to see your back arch under his touch.

He added a second finger, watching in awe as your face scrunched lightly, a moan escaping your lips. The vice grip you had on his fingers had him drooling.

Fuck,you were beautiful. Even when you should’ve been sexy, you were beautiful. The way you called out his name softly, like you didn’t even realize you were saying it, the way your head tilted back to reveal your sweat covered neck when he picked up speed, the way your whole body shook with pleasure as his tongue pressed against the most sensitive part of your body, hot and dripping wet. Watching you get off was like a drug to him.

He could’ve bent you over then and there, the way your moans pitched when his lips wrapped around your clit.

He was almost determined to pull and suck until you were putty in his hands, coming all over his face, just like he liked it.

His tongue swirled around your now-exposed clit, switching between long licks and light flicks of his tongue, sending you into a frenzy, your eyes rolling back at the slow thrusts of his fingers coupling agonizingly well with the way his mouth sucked at your clit.

He reveled in your body’s reaction; he loved the feel of your fingers tightening in his hair and your hips pushing back against his face. And it was just for him. It was only for the way he made you feel. It was only for the way he fucked you. He felt his cock throbbing as your heel dug into his back, startlingly loud moans escaping your throat.

He picked up speed again, moaning gently against your clit, the hum of his low voice adding another layer of pleasure.

You were suddenly very close to an orgasm, increasingly intense waves of pleasure rolling through you at the twisting motion of his wrist.

His pumps shortened, fingers curling up into your g-spot with ease as he took in your essence greedily.

“A-ah! Dabi!” You felt your stomach tightening uncontrollably, legs shaking as you attempted to hold yourself up against the wall.

He had to steady himself with the muscles of your walls pushing back against his fingers forcefully.

“Yes, babydoll? Am I about to make your pretty pussy cum?” His thumb replaced his mouth as he planted kisses on the tender skin of your inner thigh. His words alone could’ve sent you into a tense orgasm, his gentle tone sending you into orbit.

“No! Don’t stop. Please. I wanna cum!” you begged, pulling on his hair to persuade him to rub his tongue over your throbbing clit again. He shot a glance at you, biting your soft lips in frustration, eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah? You wanna cum just for me?” His voice grew softer. He was barely hanging on, watching you twist and writhe around his fingers, growing painfully stiff watching your breasts bounce lightly, even with your bra still on.

“Please, baby.” Your gentle begging was making him weak in the knees, almost unable to keep his composure as your plea sent him spiraling into feral territory, pupils dilating and goosebumps raising on his chest and shoulders.

He almost didn’t stop. He wanted to see your face twist as his name fell off your lips. He wanted to feel your warm velvet walls clench around his fingers forever. He wanted to feel your nails scratch his scalp as you came in his mouth and watched it run down his chin.

“Shit. Keep begging like that for me and we’re gonna have a problem.” He was ready to bury his cock so deep inside you that you’d see stars. His thighs began to join him in the ache, slowly losing the fight for control against his endless need to see you melt into his touch and fall apart.

But he knew every single inch of your body perfectly. Every dip and curve, every soft feature, and every tell that you were about to come undone for him. He had about a minute left.

His mouth was back on your clit roughly.

“Ngh, fuck!” He let your hips grind against his face as your mouth fell open. His pretty baby just wanted to cum. Was that so wrong?

“God, you fuck me so good, baby. Please make me cum.” He was drunk off your words, pushing his fingers as deep inside you as he could and watching your back arch off the wall as he added a third.

A couple more minutes never hurt anybody, right?

“-Oh- Dabi, baby, that’s it! Right there! Fuck-” Your teeth clenched as you strained against his relentless tongue, your words cut short by the gasp that let him know you were ready.

He chuckled. As keen as he was to give you what you wanted, he had plans for you.

“Now now, lets not get ahead of ourselves.” You groaned as both of his hands left your body completely, coming down sharply from the high he’d given you, head swirling a bit at the suddenly lack of contact.

“We still got a movie to catch.”

“Asshole. I was so close.” You were left panting as his fingers gently adjusted your panties to their original spot.

“Don’t worry love,” he laughed, just proud that for once, he was the one teasing you. He shot up quickly just to place his hand on the wall next to you.

“Just get changed.” His tongue swirled tantalizingly around the fingers that had left you before his eyes trailed the skin of your neck. “Good shows always have an encore,” he winked.

[writteninsunshine]

It’s In His DNA - Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff - NSFW

Title: It’s In His DNA Author: Donnie Fandom: MCU Setting: Clint Barton’s Home Pairing: Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton (Mentioned) Characters: Clint Barton, Pietro Maximoff, Laura Barton (Vague Mention) Genre: Romance Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1831 Type of Work: One-Shot, Part of the Clint Barton Bingo: Round Two Series Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, ABO Dynamics, Claiming, Biting, Blood, Polyamory Mention,  Male omegas have both sets of genitals, Vaginal sex, Breeding, Alpha!Clint, Omega!Pietro, Hair Pulling Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Clint is ready to stake his claim, but Pietro has to behave to get what he wants. AN: Hey, everyone! Here’s something a little different from what I’ve been writing lately because I started the Clint Barton Bingo! I got my card on the seventh and worked from the eighth to the tenth, apparently, on this. I don’t know if it’s very good, I’m sort of… Flying by the seat of my pants. The last little bit of this was written after a sad discovery and honestly? I’m really… Not okay. But I plan on writing more. I think writing is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Note about Pack Gene Alphas: A pack gene Alpha has what is called “Old Blood”, and is capable of mating more than one Omega at a time without any confrontations. Conversely, “feral” or pack gene Omegas (which are rarer than Pack Gene Alphas) can mate several Alphas at once with much less confrontation than usual. Feel free to use this idea if you like it!

Clint Barton Bingo Round 2 Masterlist It’s In His DNA ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A soft, contented sigh left the elder man as he drug his face up the smooth, pale expanse of skin over Pietro’s ribs. Kisses washed over Pietro’s flesh, only to be punctuated with another harsh bite that had the smaller man jerking a little into his mouth.

“Haven’t you eaten me already?” Pietro asked lazily, leaning into the Alpha’s mouth regardless. Clint chuckled softly, slowly biting his way up to the Omega’s ear before whispering against the shell of it. “I like seeing you covered in my marks. My Omega.” The subvocal growl in his voice made Pietro whimper softly, and he subconsciously lifted his hips as much as Clint’s body would let him. Grinding down against the cleft of Pietro’s ass, he smirked a little, sucking the lobe of his lover’s ear for a second before finally pulling away. “I can’t keep my mouth off of you.” “Obviously.” The cockiness in his smirk was offset by the love-drunk dullness to his eyes as he looked over his shoulder. “I’m delicious. Wanda did always say she’d eat me, first.” Raising a brow, Clint lifted his head, tugging some skin with him before letting it fall from his teeth. Giving the white-haired man a pointed look, he reached up to tug out his hearing aids, placing them on the bedside table with a purposefully languid motion. Pinning the Omega to the bed was easy enough, and having his attention was even simpler. Letting Pietro hear the pop in his jaw as his mouth opened, feeling him gulp at the wet sound of his lips parting, he leaned forward to latch onto the back of his neck. Clearly, he didn’t need to hear to know that Pietro’s loud croon filled the house when he finally sunk his teeth deep into his flesh. Blood flooded his mouth and he rocked his hips absently against the other’s strong thigh, closing his eyes to focus on the bond he was creating. Beneath him, Pietro wriggled minutely, mostly limp even as he rubbed himself hesitantly on the blanket he was pinned to. Eyelids fluttering against his cheekbones, he let out a ragged pant as his heart flooded with the knowledge that he was safe. For once in his life, he was safe, with an Alpha that wanted to love him. Never in Clint’s life did he think he could find an Omega that would both turn his world upside down and be willing to shack up with a pack gene Alpha. There was no telling when the pair had discovered their feelings for each other, but he’d been increasingly proud of Pietro for coming to him and presenting his case. It led to this moment, to be able to claim the only Omega other than his wife that had ever stolen his attention. Popping off, saliva and blood tethering them together in a thick, sickeningly pink string, Clint panted softly, staring down at the deep craters his teeth had made. Pregnant with blood, they didn’t leak until Pietro rolled onto his side and parted his jaw. Clicking his teeth twice, he tugged at Clint’s hair slightly, distracting him from watching the red pooling on the blanket. “Huh…?” He asked dumbly, blinking until blue eyes came into focus and Clint couldn’t help but smile slowly. His eyes stayed on Pietro’s lips, his attention on them whenever they moved. He’d have to grab his hearing aids again soon, knowing how much Pietro liked to talk. “It’s my turn.” Rising despite his sudden dizziness making the room spin, he crawled forward to nudge his nose into the juncture of Clint’s neck and shoulder. Finding the elder man’s collarbone, he took no time in digging in. Another throb of liquid love coursed through his veins as the circuit was completed, and Pietro’s eyes rolled back. His own hips jerked forward, and in a second his ruby red lips were pressed to Clint’s. Bowled over by the speedster’s excitement, Clint found himself on his back, digging his fingers into Pietro’s neck and relishing the sticky wet slide against his fingertips. Pietro’s hips rolled in a rhythm too quick to follow, and Clint’s patient, steady hands shot out to remind him what he needed to do. ��Slow.” His voice was thick with arousal, and a particularly shaky round of Pietro’s hips poured a telltale gush of slick down his stomach, “And lower.” Pietro nodded just slightly, angling his hips back as he turned to look over his shoulder, gripping Clint by the base of his building knot. With those strong fingers digging crescents into his thin hipbones, Pietro let himself be guided back at the elder Alpha’s pace, even if he didn’t want to wait. Toes curling, he exhaled a loud, hoarse moan as Clint bottomed out inside of him, and his eyes rolled back, then closed. Pietro wasn’t the only one becoming a speechless mess, though, a low growl in his chest as the Omega sat still, getting used to the feeling of being full again. Whimpering after a solid minute of being held still, Pietro huffed and whined, giving a stuttered wriggle at first before amping up the speed and power to his movements. Clint didn’t seem particularly fussed with the writhing Omega in his lap, however, holding the other still until his muscles gave in. Despite himself, Pietro gave a high-pitched, disgruntled growl high in his nose, and Clint rubbed his hip lightly. “Shh, that’s it, Rabbit.” Clint purred, licking his teeth slow, “Shshsh, calm. I know you want to ride me like you stole me, baby, but it’s better if you have to wait for it.” “Nu ... am nevoie acum. Trebuie să fie acum.” As the Romanian fell from Pietro’s lips, Clint gave a sudden, harsh thrust upwards. A loud shriek peeled from his lips, and he babbled wordlessly for a moment. Seconds later, he was returned to being a whimpering mess, staring down at his lover with heavily lidded eyes, pupils blown wide. “De ce?” Clint answered him by reaching back over for his hearing aids, taking his time in putting them back in. Thankfully, his Omega knew better than to take advantage of his freed hips; Clint didn’t take kindly to being disobeyed. He wasn’t cruel, but this was sexual torture enough, Pietro wasn’t looking forward to anything more. “Believe me, pretty, I want to wreck you into next week--” “Then do it.” Pietro snapped impatiently, rocking his hips like it just might do something. Clint clamped his hands back down on those thin hips, narrowing his eyes slightly. “But, I need you to be able to listen to me. And I need you to be patient, and then I’ll tear you apart.” Wriggling again, Pietro huffed before sighing, dropping the tenseness in his muscles and trying to show he was pliant. Baring his neck, his shoulders fell back as he showed off his heaving chest, the wild look in his eyes enough to show he was barely holding it together. Letting his hands crawl up from Pietro’s hips to roam over his stomach and chest, Clint smirked. “Good boy.” The keening whine that earned him made him lean up as he thrust, moaning gently so as not to cover up Pietro’s purrs of pleasure, “Such a good boy for me.” Those strong hands finally reached Pietro’s neck, and he gently dug his fingers into the dip of his collarbone before both hands converged over his bite mark. Tugging Pietro down by it, he kissed him solidly, unrelenting as his hips finally snapped forward. The Omega saw stars blossom behind his eyelids, happy to purr his way through the vicious onslaught Clint had planned for him. Unable to stay on Pietro’s lips for too long due to his own distractibility, Clint sunk his mouth against his neck and shoulders instead; He all too happily left a collar of dark purple hickeys and rough, red-dotted bites behind. After a moment of thoroughly marking him, the Alpha couldn’t handle it anymore, uncurling from him to roll them suddenly. The Omega gave a startled yelp, staring up with wide eyes at the man above him. With Pietro finally pinned beneath him, baring all and prepared to get thoroughly pupped up, all he had to do was get him pressed down just right and take him. His instincts were screaming it at him; take, take, take. It didn’t really take long before Clint held Pietro down by his thighs, bowed over him as he pounded away at his tight, wet cunt. Grunting and growling possessively, he dug one hand into the fold of Pietro's hip to help him angle himself just right, reaching up with his free hand. Tugging his head down by a fistful of hair, he locked his lips over what he could reach of the mating mark he’d left behind. Biting it once more pulled the most beautiful cry he’d ever heard from Pietro and it only made him piston his hips forward that much quicker. It wouldn’t be a long session, not at this rate. Clint was high on their new bond, and he knew that there was no way that he could push himself back from the edge this time. A loud snarl marked the beginning of his knot popping in and out of his lover, and he felt his own eyes roll back. Pietro’s eyelids fluttered and he gasped loudly, shoving his ass back hard against the other’s hips to finally lock Clint’s knot in place. It pulled a guttural grunt from Clint, whose breath was punched from his chest like a physical blow. Gripping both hips tight once more, he rocked and rolled his hips to help milk himself, his mind long gone. All he could think about was filling his Omega, pupping him up good and proper, and using him to get what he wanted. He hated that last bit, the idea that he wanted to use and abuse Pietro, that he looked pretty with blood dripping down his pale skin, but his brain had all but absconded to leave behind instinct. By the time his hips began to slow and he leaned forward to rest against the other’s chest, he kissed his shoulder as he tried to shift them to lay on their sides. Clint needed to stay inside of him; the only acceptable amount of space apart was none. Tugging his new Omega close, Clint kissed his neck gently as his left hand slowly drug down his side, petting his hip. “You made me bleed a lot.” Pietro murmured absently, already half asleep. “I’ll clean you up. Go ahead and sleep.” Clint had a nice evening planned, even if Pietro slept through most of it. It would start with tending to his wounds and kissing over that mark for an hour, all while staying firmly locked inside of him. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: So, I finally finished this. I’ve been working on it for two days, and I’m glad to finally get it done. It just seems like everything in my life keeps going to shit, but I’m trying to keep going. Translations: Nu ... am nevoie acum. Trebuie să fie acum. - Romanian - No... I need it now. It has to be now. De ce? - Romanian - Why? Prompt: G3 - Biting Anyway, I wanted to let you guys know that I have a writing discord, now! Here’s a link: discord.gg/3FuN9vy

[clauderiegan]

Change the Future [Byleth x Claude, pre-relationship]

A/N: This falls half under ‘general Golden Deer fic’ and half under ‘ship’ since there’s no romance yet, idk  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ No romance ‘til time skip.  also I recruited Annette into Golden Deers because I love her

Teachers weren't supposed to have favourites, but then again Byleth had never even planned on being one. She'd been content with cutting down rogues and feral wild animals with her father, living day by day in whatever part of the world they'd settled down in for the time being. She was still adjusting to her new position of authority and truth be told...

She was adjusting to being around one Claude von Riegan.

The majority of men who spent time around her and her father were older, grizzly warriors; the type to give her a friendly roughhousing and an offer of ale when they'd succeeded in pulling off a well-paying job. She was hardly accustomed to charming smiles from someone her age, hand kissing and whispered secrets in her ears. It was all a bit much - Claude was as bright as his house colour in both intellect and charm. She could easily see why so many had gathered to his side - even Lorenz with his snide comments couldn't resist the leader's sway for too long. 

Still she tried to maintain a healthy distance as nothing good would come of a mercenary's daughter turned teacher becoming too close with the literal golden boy of the Leicester Alliance. She gave all of her students equal attention, enjoying the vast personalities and heritages of her charges. Some of them were already more skilled then her in certain areas; in particular she feared the strength of Hilda's axe swinging, a happy smile on the twintailed girl's face as she aced her axe exam with a flourish of the massive weapon. 

And if her cheeks blushed ever so slightly when a certain lord joined her for tea one sunny weekend, it was her problem alone. One she could lock away and happily ignore, continuing to work at improving her newfound profession. It would cause nothing but trouble; she would be better devoting herself to the path of the sword.

            ----------------------------------------------------------------------

She was glad she had done all of that training.

A fairly routine battle had gone south so far Byleth wasn't even certain how it happened - one minute they were cleaning up the last of a pathetic lot of bandits, the next dealing with some mass abomination of which she'd never seen the likes of. No one in the Golden Deers was sure of its origin, but whatever had brought the creature to them was now their problem. It was a beast of some kind, but far beyond the usual fare of bears or wolves; its silver scales were impossible to penetrate with regular weapons. It was definitely not a simple creature of the woods; Byleth feared something darker at stake when looking at its bizarre anatomy. Lorenz had found out the hard way when he charged forward to strike, only his lance had pathetically bounced off the beast's hide.

He also found out how sharp the beast's claws were when they grazed his chest... not that he remembered presently. Byleth had instantly fired off a Divine Pulse, heart pounding as the familiar sensation of light had wrapped around her body and Lorenz, wiping his bloody gash clean before her eyes. Her reaction had been so fast that he had no idea that anything had even happened - she simply instructed him not to attack and he had complied, obliviously evading a potentially serious injury.

If only it was that simple to snap her fingers and erase her mistakes as easily.

The truth was that every Divine Pulse drained her and she had already used three of them - one to save Lorenz, one to direct Annette away from a falling branch that would land on her (it would break one of her legs and they needed her mobile) and one to direct her students away from an area of the forest that would go up in flames from the breath attacks of the creature. The Deers were used to her powers now and were unfazed by her sudden instructions to avoid seemingly safe parts of the field. Sothis had advised her many times that pushing past three would be unwise and she felt the truth of it in her aching body as she and the others continued to circle and slowly chip away at the beast's scales. Byleth had managed to keep up a steady balance of keeping her distance and striking the beast with the long range of her sword, but she could feel the intensity of her strikes fading with each hit. She was trying her best not to let it show, but she could do little to hide her strained, heavy breathing at this point. It was up to her to keep a calm face, to be the moral center of the group and prevent them from becoming too scared to continue onwards.

Still, she was considering the option of instructing them all to flee; it would be cowardly and if the beast waylaid the nearby town behind them, the blame would fall onto the Golden Deers (onto Claude, her mind unhelpfully supplied). Still, she'd much rather her students face consequences from the Church than be killed in some nameless forest, their bodies staining the grass red.

"Thinking of running?"

Byleth turned, marveling slightly at his reliable ability to read her thoughts all too easily. Claude smiled next to her, tired but still putting on a show of strength despite his singed armor and sweaty face. Even the almost ever-present volley of arrows he had been firing off were weakening as the battle had raged on. He too was faced with the burden of reassuring the others; if the Deers saw Claude still confident, they believed that any fight, no matter how grueling, could be turned into a victory. Still, it was not victory she had in mind currently and Claude's judgement was something she had need of right now.

"Yes. We're outmatched and I'd rather us face whatever consequences befall us than to lose any Deers here. Your thoughts?"

"We're on the same wavelength, as usual" he replied, somehow having the energy to wink at her.

"Truly?"

"We're only delaying this creature momentarily - it may be weakened as of now but we don't have the resources to put it down. And I don't particularly plan on such a pathetic end for the Golden Deers!" he assured her, tone steady and full of conviction.

Though they seemed to have momentarily tired the beast out as it had stopped approaching, it was eyeing them with malice from the spot it was resting. She nodded at his reasoning, relieved. The two of them could face whatever problems that arose with not immediately defeating the beast once they returned to the Monastery. Still, there was one remaining issue; the area they had been currently circling the beast around was far too wide and flat for an easy escape - it was a fair distance to the nearest copse of trees that was too thickly forested for the beast to easily follow.

"It's far too accurate with that breath attack. If our students ran off one-by-one or in a group, they'll be an easy target for its flames before they could escape through the trees. It hardly seems content to just let us leave... how can we get them out safely?" she asked, trying to keep the underlying fear out of her voice.

He hummed in thought, sharp green eyes scanning their position and the bedraggled appearances of their Golden Deers. She followed his gaze, wincing at the exhaustion and anxiety on her student's faces. Annette shot her a pained glance, her expression looking for reassurance from Byleth. She felt slightly hopeless; if only a more seasoned and older professor had been with them! She gripped her sword tighter, resolving to get them out safely no matter the cost to her own being.

"How do you feel about taking a risk with me?"

Byleth blinked, looking at the lord who had seemingly done scanning the field.

"Our current problem is that our big scaly friend here is going to flame whoever flees first if we leave it where it is. This thing's got a clear shot if it stays in that position-"

"So we go closer and distract the creature while the others run away?" she finished, eyes wide with understanding.

"Yep" he replied casually, lip popping the 'p' as if he'd suggested something completely casual.

"But when they do, they'll only be two of us left... and Claude, you shouldn't be putting yourself in danger like that!" she replied, tone beseeching as she kept an eye on the now increasingly restless beast.

"I made the plan, I'll take the risks. You feel the same anyway, right?" he shot back, tone still infuriatingly nonchalant as he readjusted out of his bow stance.

She sighed, knowing she had no better plan and that Claude's schemes usually were more successful than hers.

"Very well, we'll attempt to distract it until the others have left and then escape together. But if things get too dangerous, I want you to run while I hold it back. Promise me."

He paused, emerald eyes staring at her with a thoughtful expression while taking an arrow out of his quiver.

"That's a pretty selfish promise you know. Leave you to handle some crazy beast alone while I run?"

"Precisely, because you are a lord who is heir to an empire and I am in charge of your welfare" she stated, tone unflinching and stance rigid.

They had a brief staredown, eyes locked in a silent argument before Claude relented.

"Fine. But I'm planning on staying as long as possible, so don't expect me to turn tail at the first sight of trouble!"

She nodded, shoulders slumping as she readjusted the grip on her sword. Her arm was aching, but she still had some strength left in her for the last part of their plan.

"Golden Deers, to me!" Claude commanded, voice cutting loud and clear through the wide space.

The students ran over, relieved; they were counting on the two to deliver them out of the predicament safely. They'd managed to wound the beast at best and quickly realized they didn't have a chance of soundly defeating the creature. Byleth spied a large burn on Raphael's shoulder and winced. The sooner they got back to the monastery, the better. Claude explained the plan quickly, keeping one eye on the beast as it continued to slowly rouse itself. Most of the Deers initially rejected the idea, as they hated the idea of leaving their two most trusted members behind. However as the sounds of the beast rising from its brief respite grew louder, they slowly agreed to the objective and prepared themselves to run.

Nodding to each other, Claude sent out a particularly large and vicious volley of arrows; the beast immediately roared as they peppered its scaly head with small cuts.

"Let's advance" he gestured to Byleth, her nodding as she slowly moved towards the giant creature with her sword firmly in her hands.

Hearing her students slowly back away behind her, she sent out a lash upon its chin, leaving a slight red welt where it hit the beast. It was growing furious; steam was billowing out of its mouth and its eyes were red with rage. Fortunately, it was so angered with Claude and Byleth that it had not a glance to spare towards the other Deers; Byleth felt cool relief run through her system as the sound of increasingly distant footsteps running away from her position behind her. She sent out another lash but jumped back at the last second, only barely avoiding a small but potent fireball that singed the grass she had been standing on. Claude fired off more arrows; snarling the beast finally regained its footing on all fours and started towards him with heavy loud stomps. She whipped her sword out again, but the beast did not turn towards her like she had hoped, continuing to stomp towards the archer. Grimacing, she struck again and again, until the beast reared its head around; sensing an opportunity she aimed for one large eye and slammed her sword forward. As the beast recoiled, Claude caught onto her line of thought once more and aimed an arrow into the same eye, a perfect shot piercing the iris.

The beast shrieked in pain, throwing its large head back. She could see Claude use the brief distraction to back up, moving closer towards her while keeping his bow squarely trained on the beast's head. It was still making noise, eye dripping blood onto its' nostrils and chin. She felt a brief stab of relief; relief that was quickly short lived when the creature whipped its head around to stare down the two, one working red eyeball alight in anger.

She had forgotten something important; cornered animals were the most dangerous and a beast was no different.

It roared and with outstanding speed, trampled towards them with single-minded determination. They both barely managed to leap out of the way, cratered dirt where they had been standing. It roared again and turned, heading towards Claude's surprised form, fueled by nothing but bloodlust. Her heart pumping with fear, she desperately lashed out with her sword but the beast barely felt it. The creature had only missed Claude by an inch, but he been knocked off his legs and fallen-!

The beast turned once more. A claw the size of a horse, raised in the air above him.

"NO!"

A sickening crunch, a sharp yell of pain that trailed into a high gurgling whimper and then silence.

Byleth stared, uncomprehending. She saw the blood stained yellow of his uniform, slowly turning burgundy. She heard his cry of agony. And yet it felt like nothing was real; an abstract nightmare that kept her up on nights when she had consumed too much tea before bed. The scream from her own mouth felt like a line in a play.

The beast lowered his head and oh Gods, it was eating him, it was ripping apart Claude-

The sight of its red jaws made her feel like her blood had frozen in her veins. She was growing lightheaded at the grisly scene before her, but as she stared down unblinkingly at the clawed up body formerly known as Claude in front of her, one realization became increasingly clear.

Gods damn her, she was going to use one more Divine Pulse. She wasn't leaving without all her Deers and the most important one was not coming back to the monastery in a coffin. She couldn't leave him here.

She let the familiar feeling of the magic settle around her, even with her body and mind screaming in protest as the air around her seemed to be suffocating her from the outside. The lightheaded feeling turned quickly into nausea and increasingly severe pain, a stabbing headache seizing her as she closed her eyes. She felt awful, like her body was being torn away little pieces at a time, but the feeling in her heart of seeing Claude fall was even worse and spurred her onward. The pain was overwhelming but she could feel the magic slowly turn back the time; she closed her eyes in agony, gritting her teeth as she resolved to make it through long enough to save him as the world around her seemed to rewind.

She was adrift in a sea of pain and silence, until-

"RRRAGHH!"

The roar of the beast, screaming as Claude's arrow pierced its eye once again. Sweet relief shot through the pain; she had made it back! And she could still.... could still...

She couldn't move.

Her body collapsed under her, little stars shooting above her eyes. She screamed internally, willing herself to open her mouth and yell at him to run, move! But nothing came out, the Divine Pulse rendering her body useless and her mind aching in agony as she lay in the grass unable to move a muscle. She felt something run down her chin and realized with a groggy start that her nose was bleeding. She could barely think at all anymore, the view of the night sky on her back becoming hazy... she had to tell him... to run...

"Teach? Teacher, get up! BYLETH!"

'Get out of there, you fool...' is the last thing she thought, his worried face as he crouched above her fallen body fading in front of her heavy eyes.

               ----------------------------------------------------------

"....-coming to! Thank the Gods, I thought she might never wake..."

"Give her some space, she doesn't look well..."

Byleth groaned weakly, familiar voices that she couldn't currently place far too loud in her ears. She cracked one sore eye open, wincing as voices around her bed cheered in relief. She blearily looked around, her whole body aching - she could see the blurry faces of students peering with concern at her, surrounding her on a sturdy medical cot.

"Professor! We t-thought the worst..." Marianne whispered weakly on her right, voice breaking in relief as she clutched her hands together.

"I told you! You can't keep our awesome teacher down!" Raphael said heartily, smiling down at her from where he was standing by the window.

She blinked a few times, taking the faces of her Deers in with increasing relief. They were spouting bandages of their own in various places, but thankfully none with any lasting damage.

"Everyone... I'm alright. Sore, but alright. What happened with the beast?" she rasped, voice cracking with disuse.

"Well we were running for it and made it back to the road to the monastery. Then Claude comes blitzing in behind us with you on your back! Said you collapsed or something, he was super out of breath. I took over from there and carried you back... hopefully you didn't get any extra bumps or bruises from me, Professor" Raphael explained, looking a bit sheepish.

"Thank you Raphael, you were very brave. You all did very well considering what happened" Byleth smiled weakly, slumping back in relief at the news that Claude had escaped without injury.

"The beast disappeared, though agents of the Church of Seiros are trying to track it down as we speak. Claude was at your bedside for quite some time, but had to leave to explain the situation to Archbishop Rhea. It sounds like neither of you will face harsh consequences as the situation was unprecedented" Lorenz stated, his clipped tones at odds with the relief on his face at seeing his professor awake.

Byleth wanted to ask more but words were starting to fail her; Annette seemed to notice and offered to grab her designated healer. Byleth nodded and the ginger-haired girl returned with a motherly looking mage in white robes, who peered down at Byleth in concern over her spectacles.

"I'm not sure how you managed to exhaust your magic so severely when you aren't a mage, but I am aware you have particular talents requiring spiritual energy. Nonetheless, I would recommend never doing such a thing again."

Byleth nodded to appease the older woman, though hearing that Claude had returned alive had convinced her she had made the right decision. A decision that made her whole body ache, but the right one in truth. She could never regret saving Lorenz from a bad injury despite his sharp tongue and poor Annette didn't deserve a broken leg. And Claude... even only half-awake and dazed, she could still hear the exact scream Claude made when he'd been crushed playing in her head like some horrible echo.

Still, she'd be saving a fourth Divine Pulse for emergencies only; she felt like the beast itself had trampled her into a flat pancake. The healer offered a spell to send her into a painless sleep for the afternoon, which would boost her recovery. Currently content that Claude and her Deers were alive at the very least, she agreed to the treatment. Her students gave their goodbyes and well-wishes (Marianne said nothing but gently squeezed her hand) and soon the older healer had sent her into a comfortable, dreamless doze. She smiled as she felt drowsy but relieved once again, bright green eyes on her mind as she slowly drifted off.

                      -----------------------------------------------------

Byleth yawned, slowly waking up from the sleep she had been placed in the day earlier as birds chirped alongside the rising sun through the window. Already she felt a little stronger, though she likely had to face bed rest for the next few days judging by her aching muscles. Gods knows how Sothis would react to her recklessness next time they talked...

She yawned again, blearily rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey, teach."

She started, eyes slowly tracking towards the familiar voice. Claude stood in the doorway, a sad smile on his face as he looked over her tired frame in the bed.

"Claude...!" she said weakly, her heart lightening upon seeing him alive and well.

She'd been told this by the Golden Deers of course, but it was hard to fully believe with the awful memory of his death echoing through her brain on repeat. Now as he made his way towards her bed, sunlight running across his spotless uniform, the full weight of the grisly scene was finally unburdened. His slightly ruffled bed head, his searching green eyes, everything was so alive and warm.

"You look surprised to see me alive and kicking. It's a little offensive!" he teased gently, coming to lean up against her bed with his arms crossed facing her.

"I'm more surprised I made it out. Raphael said you managed to carry me?" she inquired, confused.

"You scared me, seriously. I was so worried and full of adrenaline, I'd gotten halfway through the trees with you on my back before I realized I had done it" he said, smiling softly.

"Interesting Plan B, that one" she joked quietly, glad to see him teasing her like nothing had happened in the first place.

"Well, my plan B didn't include you collapsing..." he trailed off, eyebrows raised in clear expectation of an answer.

She paused, good mood rapidly disappearing. It was little use hiding things from Claude; he'd already proven to be a master at reading her face. She was not in the least surprised when he continued.

"You used that ability of yours, didn't you? But you shouldn't have" he questioned softly, smile gone from his face.

She slowly shook her head.

"No. I knew I was overusing it at the time, but... I..."

"Did I get injured?" he pressed, leaning slightly forward.

She pursed her lips, keeping deathly silent. He chewed his lip, looking pensive.

"Then... I died. Didn't I?"

Byleth swallowed. She tried to keep a straight fact but it was already too late; Claude leaned back, looking thoughtful once again.

"It's pretty pathetic that I died in the first place. Sorry you had to endanger yourself for my carelessness" he said calmly, casual tone suddenly infuriating her.

"Don't say that. You were brave and I didn't do enough, I had to watch as-"

She shut her mouth, embarrassed by her outburst and the sudden onset of tears pricking her eyes. Claude immediately looked guilty, hands twisting together.

"I-I didn't mean to joke! I'm sorry, truly. Please don't get upset over my idiocy" he soothed, leaning forward to wipe a tear away.

She nodded, supremely embarrassed at her emotional state. It wasn't like her to get overly weepy around others, although the stress of the past days was slowly catching up to her. Claude noticed this and stepped away from her bedside, looking regretful.

"I'm sorry for making light of the situation and riling you up when you're tired, Professor. I-"

He stopped for a moment to think, then continued on.

"I'm casual around a lot of people because I... I don't truly trust that many people in my life. Friends I have many of, but few true confidants. But please believe me as sincere when I say I trust you. And I owe you for this."

Byleth smiled, touched at the admission.

"Thank you for trusting me Claude. And you can pay me back by getting the highest mark on the next Fodlan history exam" she replied with a smile, giggling softly at his laugh.

"Then I better get started on my readings of Fodlan History Volume IV, huh? Thank you again, teach. Make sure you get some well-deserved rest. You're an irreplaceable part of the Deers, so get better soon!" he replied, gently patting her shoulder before leaving the medical room with a smile.

She sighed happily, feeling bone tired but satisfied that the ordeal of the last few days was finally beginning to close. Even as she fell back into a half-conscious state against her pillow, lesson plans and tactics drills were floating in the back of her mind.

No more sacrifices; they were going to lead the Golden Deers to success together.

[kacchaneatsass]

YES! THOU HAS SUMMONED ME! Thx for accepting my love ilysm!) I would like to request a nsfw scenario for Kirishima where his fem s/o is one strong babe (cuz she was forced to train day and night) but doesn’t know how to take a break from training so she’s constantly tense and Kirishima tries to talk to her about it but she’s like “I’ve never been able to take a break I’m used to it” and he starts with a massage but turns very smexy and starts touching her and then they do tha dirty~ 💕❤️❤️❤️❤️

YES I KNEW YOU WOULD COME BACK YAYYY!! ily2!!! O course you can request this yeeeeee bb im excite. This was my first time writing NSFW so please excuse it if it's actual crap, I gotta practice some more. Even so, I hope I do you justice! 😫

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x fem! Reader

Reader's Quirk: able to copy the brainwaves someone transmits corresponding to their quirk and copy their quirk into your own body. Only works if someone is within range to copy their brainwaves.

The Grind Never Stops

Warnings: SEX! LOTS OF SEX! If not impure PLEASE LEAVE! NO PURE BEANS ALLOWED HERE! GO PICK SOME FLOWERS INSTEAD!

Again. You copyed Eijiro's quirk through his brainwaves from across the room, hardening your arm enough to send it straight through the punching bag. Finally. Finally you were able to localize his quirk specifically. Now if you could do that for everyones brainwaves you copied with your quirk, it would make life a lot easier.

"That was awesome, babe! Let's get this cleaned up, huh?" Kirishima was by your side in an instant, hand on your shoulder while he smiled excitedly.

You nodded, the two of you making quick work to dispose of the last punching bag along with the sand that had spilled out. "I gotta go shower, then we need to finish that essay of your tonight."

Eijiro whined, taking your hand as you walked back to the dorms. "Can't we just relax tonight? Spray yourself with febreeze and we'll be fine! We can watch a movie and nap or something!"

You looked up at him, "Eiji, you know you need that essay finished. Plus, I reek."

He opened the door to the dorm building, allowing you to enter first and following behind you. "Please? You especially need to relax, it's not good for you to be running like this all the time. You're always so tired."

You rolled your eyes. Maybe one night off wouldn't hurt too much. "Fine. I'm gonna go change first though, and find that febreeze bottle."

He nodded, saluting to you comically before racing off to his room.

[[MORE]]

When you made it back to his room, the can of febreeze was sitting on his bedside table and blankets were piled on the sheets, the main title to Coraline dancing on the screen. "Coraline again?"

"It's one of your favorites, so of course I had to put it on." (Jk its one of my favorites :P)

Shaking your head with a soft smile, you sprayed yourself down with the febreeze and crawled onto the bed next to him, worming your way into his side as he started the movie.

"Dang, (y/n)! You're so tense! What's wrong?" He moved his hands to your shoulders, running them along your muscularture.

You shrugged, "it's because I train so much. I just never am able to fully relax."

A frown settled on his face, and you were quick to take note of it. "You don't need to train every single day. You're overworking yourself."

A blush spread across your cheeks as you looked to his Crimson Riot bedsheets, "I've never really taken a break, I'm just used to it I guess. Overworking myself, that is."

A sigh escaped his lips, and before you could fully comprehend what was going on he had you flipped to your stomach while he straddled your lower back. His massive hands removed your shirt and sports bra, and travelled across your shoulderblades, pushing and massaging in ways that had you melting under his touch.

"Shit, Kiri, what's this for?"

He hummed in response, pushing on a particularly large knot in your shoulder. "You gotta relax. I'm just gonna try and work it out of you, okay? This should help."

You could only nod, practically moaning as he dug his fingers around your spine, releasing an enormous pop. "Fuck, Kiri. How are you so good at this?"

"P-practice."

You didn't notice the tremor in his voice, nor did you notice the growth in his pants. "Ooo," he ran his knuckles over a particularly tender spot, "fuck, right there, Eiji."

His breathing hitched, ideas slowly forming in his mind. Shifting slightly, he was able to allow his hands to travel lower down your back, pushing and kneading at the supple skin of your lower back. "You like this?"

"Shit, Eiji, I should have let you do this before."

You were a moaning mess beneath him, hands gripping the sheet from the release of tension in your back. His mind was drifting, saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you. He gulped.

Shifting again, his hands travelled lower, kneading the thick muscles that progressed into your ass, smirking at the sharp intake of air on your end. "Kiri?"

"Shh, I know what I'm doing, babe. Trust me." He couldn't help it as his hands dipped to cup your asscheeks, squishing them together slightly and relishing the view he recieved from beneath your pajama pants. He let a finger move, running between your thighs gently.

You squeaked, but said nothing, choosing to let him continue.

Another finger, now, travelling between your clothed legs to press gently near your clit. A shudder ran through your body. "You like this?"

"M-maybe."

"You want me to keep going?"

You were silent for a moment. "Y-yes." Your voice was tiny and nervous. This wasn't the first time you two had gone at it, but it was the first time where Kirishima would be in a dominating role.

His hands travelled upwards again, fingering the edge of your pants before slowly tugging them downwards, practically drooling as they became stuck, then popped over your ass suddenly. "You're so gorgeous, babe."

"S-shut up."

He hummed at your response, tugging your pants down past your knees and smirking. You weren't wearing any underwear. "Going commando, babe? Isn't that a little dirty for coming to have a nice movie night with your boyfriend?"

You let out a strangled moan as he gripped tightly at your ass, leaving a smack as he released you and pulled your pants fully off, throwing them to some desolate corner of his room. His fingers trailed back up your legs, slipping between your thighs to brush against your folds.

The shudder that racked your body flew straight to his core, his pants growing increasingly taut. "Fuck, babe, you're so hot like this."

"K-kiri, shut up," you rolled over, hand reaching out to tug him upwards, locking your lips.

His hands drifted again, coming up to cup at your chest, kneading your breasts carefully. You moaned into the kiss, sending a shockwave straight down his spine. He let his lips wander from yours, drifting down your neck to your collarbone, sucking lightly at the thin skin there. After a few moments, his lips attached to your right nipple, earning a squeal from you.

The points of his teeth grazed the bud in his mouth, tounge flicking from between thinned lips as he palmed your opposite breast. Moving again, he kissed a trail down your stomach, hands travelling to tug off his shirt and unbutton his pants as he did so. "You sure about this?"

You could only nod, eyes half lidded at the pleasure jumping through your body.

Taking that small nod in stride, he removed his throbbing cock from his pajama pants, sliding the waistband down around his knees. "God, baby, you look so hot when you're under me."

You squirmed under his gaze, reaching up to trail a hand down his exposed chest. "Eiji, c'mon. Just fuck me already-"

Hands gripped at your thighs, yanking you closer to him as he positioned himself at your entrance. "Ready?"

Before waiting for an answer, he slid himself into you, head dropping to his chest as he released a low thrum of a moan. "Shit, you're still so tight."

"D-did you think I was gonna ch-change?" Your words left between pants as he started to move slowly, both of you watching as his dick slid in and out of you smoothly. "Fucking god, Kiri, get moving."

He chuckled, hips jerking faster as he leaned down to you, teeth nipping at your neck. "So impatient, aren't we?"

The feral moan you released into his ear cause his hips to start pistoning frantically, the bed frame shaking and squeaking with every thrust. You both were sweating, his free hand moving to grip your waist tightly as pleasure rolled through his body.

"Fuck, Kiri-" you trailed off, another moan breaking your sentence as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, hands grabbing desperately for purchase on his back, leaving massive scratch marks. "I'm... fuck-"

"I know, baby," he hissed in your ear, feeling you tighten around him even more. "Cum for me."

You practically started to cry as you released the coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach, his name dripping from your lips like honey. It only took a few more thrusts before he pulled out, watching through hooded eyes as his cum shot across your stomach and chest, decorating you in the pale light.

"Damn, Eiji," you whispered, reaching a hand down to swipe a rope of cum from your chest, raising it to your lips. Saliva pooled in his mouth again as he watched you swallow around your finger. "You taste fuckin' great, hon."

Shaking himself from his mind, ignoring the fact that he was already half hard again, he grabbed the box of tissues on his dresser, taking a few and gently wiping you down. Tossing them into the trash bin, he pulled the duvet covers up and over the both of you, wrapping you up in his arms. "I love you, you know that right?"

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his chin. "I love you too. Maybe I should overwork myself more often if this is the treatment I get."

A smirk crossed his face as his hand trailed down to cup your chest, "don't need to get overworked for me to make you mine."

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia x Evillious Chronicles: The Key to Zorn (Part 1 v. 2)

Sigh… there appears to have been a misunderstanding between the event holder and I. I just hope I hear back from them. 

Just in case, this is an alternate version of “Key to Zorn”, which I resubmitted for the Free Day prompt, but could also be considered to be one for Fate/Coincidence or By your side. It’s platonic at this point. You may read either version, as the differences are mostly superficial, but I thought this version may be more fitting considering how I write Alt-Germany. 

[Summary: Crossover with the Nemesis arc of the Evillious Chronicles. Everyone is searching for their very own Happy Ending... But where is his, if it exists at all?

Young Ludwig Beilshmidt lives alone in a cabin in the woods, waiting for the return of his mother. But one winter morning, a certain, seemingly chance encounter changes his life forever, leading his life to become increasingly entangled with much grander plans...]

(Yes, lame summary, but I didn’t know how to write it without spoilers. The same text as the original is copy-pasted below)

Couldn’t come up with a better title.

Okay… so… holy hell.

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. And it isn’t even finished.

I thought “Superbia” was long. But… I outdid myself. Over FORTY FREAKIN’ PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS. And again, this is not finished, I’m splitting it so I at least have the hope of releasing something! With two routes! This is a novel, folks!

I’m probably going to repost this for the Christmas event since I want as much people to see them as possible. Because there are some Christmas elements here. So yeah, you can take this as an early Christmas fic too.

This will be a movie, folks. Grab a seat and some popcorn.

Also, look, it’s goddamn Ludwig torment again! For the fourth time in the span of a month! And this might just be the most elaborate way I’ve tormented the poor guy yet. But I didn’t really have many options.

So I wanted to enter Mirror Week, but in the main canons write in, Alt-talia and Hetalia Emblem, I haven’t come up with any use for 2Ps, and in the former case I can’t see how I could use them.

However, there was one Alt-talia spin-off AU I had been thinking they would exist on; I didn’t know whether I wanted to release media to it so early, and due to a reason I will explain in a moment, I was reluctant to release media about it in general. But… I went with it.

This is my Evillious Chronicles AU. Yes, an AU of an AU. What about that.

Basically, the Evillious Chronicles is what started as a series of Vocaloid songs telling a much larger story; it has since ballooned into a vast, tangled network of light novels and other such media. It’s as confusing as it sounds. Some of you may have heard of the songs “Daughter of Evil” and “Servant of Evil”; those were the first songs to be released in that series. Those two songs weren’t self-contained, oh no.

The thing is, for this AU I wanted to write just based on the seven sin songs (and Servant of Evil), with accompanying Hetaloid covers, and leave the rest of the story up to the audience. I’m still planning on that. However, I still wanted to enter the event, so here I am presenting a version of events for one of the arcs; however, it is merely the route that hews closest to Evillious canon from what I can gather of it. So yeah, NONE OF THIS IS HARD CANON. Especially since I wasn’t sure on the roles of some characters here.

Also, if I somehow ever get to publishing my main Evillious x Hetalia fics sometime in the future; first of all, hi. But more importantly, please, I implore you, do not read this before reading The Muzzle of Ludwig. Especially the second half. I tried to avoid spoilers, but someone becomes extremely obvious with contextual clues.

Also… it’s not like I wanted to write Ludwig torment again. But he was basically my only option, since he was the only one whose sin most likely overlaps with… well, it’ll become clear as this goes on. Ludwig’s story here is based on Nemesis Sudou’s story. Though since Nemesis and Ludwig are vastly different characters, there may be some plot holes, unfortunately.

And THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: for those who have read none of my other works yet, Alt-talia has often vastly, vastly different characterizations. I based most of these characterizations off of their late 19th century to very early 20th century personalities in Alt-talia. Special OOC warning for the following characters: Austria, Hungary, and Prussia. Minor OOC warning for Germany. I used @askimperialludwig ‘s version of the character as a reference, along with my personal perception and research. may add more later.

Also, credit to my friend @tomboyjessie13 , my Evillious consultant, for helping me through this!

I can’t let this be too long, since the fic is long already. Let’s go!

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(Also... people who read my fics, please reblog them. I work hard on them, and want many to see them!)

And since I forgot to add this above the cut; this canon is also one of the few times Nyotalia characters canonically exist as their own entity in my works, if not the only one so far. It’s kind of necessary, since otherwise it’ll turn into a complete sausagefest. However, as I have no set personality for them in main Alt-talia canon, I basically write them the same way as I would their male counterparts, with maybe some minor changes. I do have some ideas for Nyotalia characters in “what if” stories for main Alt-talia canon, but since this would be an Alt-talia spinoff, most of my theoretical audience would be there for the Alt-talia characters who appear in most Alt-talia media. Not to mention male stereotypes for countries are usually more fun anyway. However, in this universe two counterparts of the same character can co-exist. I try to avoid that though.

Also, a character named “Arendt” is briefly mentioned; this is Brandenburg. He isn’t really that important though, and really I’ve barely fleshed him out, so that’s all you need to know.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Key To Zorn

Part 1: And Then The Boy Went Mad

In a certain continent, there was a forest.

A serene, peaceful forest, where inside one could almost feel mystical energy in the clear, unpolluted air.

Until, under the evening sky, a gunshot sounded.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, a boy of merely 8 with innocent, cornflower blue eyes, ran through the forest he knew so well, a basket of wild berries and herbs in his arms and a small sack over his back.

Soon, in his view, among the trees and wild cornflowers was the only place he had known all his life, the little wooden cottage he called home.

The boy immediately checked his old, somewhat rusted mailbox, a look of anxiousness on his face - one which immediately turned to disappointment upon finding there was nothing there.

He sighed.

“Nothing today either...”

He reached up somewhat, twisting the doorknob and opening the wooden door.

“I’m home!”

No one answered back.

As per usual.

He didn’t expect one anyway.

Ludwig went to the dining table, setting the basket and sack, as well as his small, old-model pistol, down on his side of the table. Inside the sack was a small rabbit; the poor little thing. He hoped it didn’t struggle for long after he had shot it.

He prepared dinner as he always did, the bubbling as the ingredients stewed the only sounds other than the cries of the wildlife outside.

And he ate in silence by the light of the lamp, staring at the empty, vacant other side of the table, the light of the sun dim and faint.

“Mutter, is it good?”

Nothing.

Ludwig sighed again, going back to shoving the stew into his mouth.

——-

Ludwig tucked himself into bed after a bath and a change of clothes, now in his old, almost too small pajamas, having finished the book in his hands an hour ago - while he had reread it and others several times already, it was a window into a world different from his, where friends supported each other and families told stories in front of the fire - but now that it was over, here he was, once again, stuck in loneliness, on his own, within the cold, dark walls of a small cabin.

Once again, it was quiet. All too quiet; except for the sounds of the forest.

Now as he had nothing to distract him, every rustling of the underbrush, every animal cry made him bristle. The forest was his comfort by day, almost a second mother, but by night, it was dark, feral.

He pulled his blankets up to his face, curling up, shaking like a leaf. He felt any moment, a beast could break through the walls and tear him to shreds.

He missed his mother so much, oh how he missed her. Her harsh but protective voice, her calloused hands squeezing his wrists. He missed his onkel Arendt, who told him stories of the battles he and Mutter had been through.

She’s dead. She’s dead, accept it.

No, no she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. She had to be alive.

She was too strong to die.

She would come back. She always came back.

His mother wouldn’t want to see him like this anyway. He was being pathetic.

“Einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than this.

Imagining his mother was standing by his bed, staring at him with disapproval at his fearful behavior, finally his shivering started to lessen ever so slightly.

He needed to make it so that when she came home with another medal shining on her chest, she could come home to a son she could be proud of, after all.

“Good night.”

He said to no one in particular, as he let the faint moonlight be his comfort, finally closing his eyes.

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

A soothing, calming melody played in his mind; Ludwig didn’t know where he knew it from, but as it surrounded him in soft, almost familiar gentleness, the shivering stopped, his muscles loosened, and he was finally lured into the welcome embrace of sleep.

Lu li la la lu li la la la…

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

———-

“FIRE!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Birds flew away in massive numbers, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Ludwig blew the steam off his pistol, seeing that the bullets had all landed near-target. Almost there.

Not bothered by the recoil anymore, he lined up the shot again, swearing he would get it right this time.

Every two days he did this, before 10 sets of running, marching, and every parallel bar routine; this wasn’t how most children his age passed their time, willingly anyway, if the books he read were any indication, and surely he felt sorry for the animals who had to hear such things, as they were the closest things to friends he had. But it broke the silence.

And most of all, he could almost sense his mother beside him during these practice drills; he could feel her hands on his arms guiding him in his aim, and hear her voice shouting in tandem with him as he shouted “FIRE!”. In fact, sometimes he swore she actually was there, by his side.

He took a deep breath and aimed again.

“FIRE!”

-----------------------

When he came home, he once again saw a basket of supplies.

They always puzzled him. They came at such random, unpredictable intervals, filled with food, a few bottles of milk, several cartridges of bullets, and even occasionally a book, toy, bar of soap, or other extra, but by the time he found them no one was ever there.

He should be grateful. Though he wished someone would explain to him.

Oh well.

-----------------------------

Days passed, then months.

Once again, on the night of his 9th birthday, Ludwig laid alone, the weak moonlight unable to brighten his gradually deepening pit of despair.

The silence was maddening. He craved for any touch, for any warmth of another person, for anything. But even that simple wish was too much to ask.

He bunched up the worn blanket, the cold, frigid winter air seeping into the cabin.

Every day, he wondered if he was slowly going mad.

Holding a cornflower and his mother’s black cross necklace to his chest, looked out into the moon, to the night sky peeking from a clearing in the trees.

A star shot through the night sky, and Ludwig was quick to make his wish.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

She had always told him that believing in such things was foolish.

But what was the pain in hanging onto the little light he could find?

-------------------

Now’s your time.

Alright. I’m going in. See you.

------------------

One cold, chilling day, towards the final days of the year he turned 9, Ludwig stepped outside to check his mailbox again.

Snow lightly dusted the ground, softly landing on his old, worn coat.

He had checked his homemade calendar; Sancbruma. Such a lovely holiday. But now, just yet another cold, freezing, lonely day. Oh well. He had known Pater Natalis wasn’t real for years to need confirmation.

But this day, after creaking the old thing open, he found something.

His heart almost stopped.

Immediately, he ripped the envelope often, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and he immediately glued his focus to the words, written specially to be understandable to a child.

Ludwig Beilshmidt, we are sorry to inform you that…

Time seemed to stop. He swore his heart stopped.

Dread shot through his body like lightning.

He read on, clinging onto the little hope that still remained with him all those years as they escaped from him, flying away as he fell deeper.

…

…

Tears fell from his face.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

Finally, suppressed despair replaced dread, filling every corner of his mind and body, every nerve, every muscle.

But mixed with it, and eventually almost overpowering it in the concoction of emotion, was wrath.

Pure, unbridled wrath.

He tore the paper and screamed, his screams piercing the serene forest air.

Tears fell from his eyes like a burst dam as he cried into his hands, cursing whoever had killed her, her fate, the cruelty of the gods.

If only he could get his hands on whatever bastard killed her, he would strangle them, he would gouge out their eyes, he would shoot them in the leg and watch them bleed to death, how dare they take his mother away!

He had always been told the best came to those who were patient.

He was proven wrong that day.

All those years, waiting, hoping, hoping for nothing.

Nothing.

His mother was never going to come back. Ever.

Grief, anger, and sadness gripped his small frame as he shook, on the ground, his young brain besieged with intense emotions and reality, dreaded, painful reality.

Don’t cry. How pathetic. Is that how I raised you?

Ludwig forced himself to take deep breaths, desperately fighting his tears and holding back the flow of the concoction of emotions any further.

No, his mother wouldn’t want to see him like this. He couldn’t let her be honored like this.

“Einz, zwei, drei, einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a breath with every word, forcing his emotions back and attempting to lock them away, until finally once again he could think somewhat coherently.

It was here he noticed something perched on the mailbox. 

He looked up. 

An eagle.

A stark-black eagle, its yellow talons sharp enough to pierce skin, its bright, intelligent, fierce eyes a rare violet.

He didn’t notice it before in his panic, but now the dominant emotion in his mind was confusion.

As he sniffled, the eagle cocked its head, staring at Ludwig.

“...An eagle?”

Ludwig’s mind immediately jumped back to the beginning of the year.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

“Are… are you from my Mutter?”

Silence.

Immediately, he embraced the eagle, causing it to screech loudly and flap its powerful wings in shock.

“It’s adorable! I love it Mutter! Thank you!”

The boy’s short arms wrapped around the first living thing it had embraced, nay, touched, in years.

He was actually holding something living. Oh, it had been so long. Oh so long.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold life in his arms, to feel its warmth, to feel its gentle rising and falling, to hear the subtle sounds of another’s breath in his ears.

For the first time in years, despite the unforgiving cold of the winter morning air, warmth reached Ludwig’s heart, happiness brewing with and overpowering now subdued despair and rage.

<Sure… Whatever makes you happy, kid.>

------------------------------------------

“Oy vey… I was too late again.

...This world is fucked.”

-------------------------------------

Ludwig put some meat in front of the raptor, which surely enough soon started picking it apart.

“It’s good right? What should I call you… I’ll have to give you a name.”

He stared at the eagle, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The eagle looked at him.

“You like it? Then Schwarzchen it is!”

<...I didn’t say anything. ’Blackie’? You cannot be serious.>

--------------------

That night was different from usual.

Ludwig pet the bird as it made a nest out of rags beside him, wishing it good night. It had seemed reluctant at first, clearly not used to such close contact but as Ludwig begged it to stay, as if it understood him, it decided to stay with him.

It’s fierce gaze felt protective in the silent darkness, as if his mother really had returned, watching for anything that could harm him. 

Oh, he almost forgot something.

He took his mother’s necklace from his bedside table, putting it around the eagle’s neck.

“There. Perfect. It suits you.”

It squawked. 

“Good night, Schwarzchen.”

That night, sleep came to Ludwig easier than usual, watched by the protective gaze of his new companion.

----------

“Hallo. Kid. Wake up.”

Ludwig awoke, his eyes fluttering open.

Once his eyes focused, he almost yelped in shock.

He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, some formless void; Schwarzchen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the walls of his cabin or even his forest, all that remained was his bed.

In front of him was a man clad in what seemed to be a long white lab coat and some type of mantle, or at least Ludwig assumed, his clothing style almost resembling that in illustrations in one of his novels, ostensibly chronicling ancient legends; but not just any man.

A man who looked almost exactly like how one would imagine Ludwig would look like when he was older, save for his unnatural purple, almost magenta eyes that shined with a calculating glint, a scar under his left.

“H… hallo?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I… Who are you?”

The man smiled at him softly; despite his harsh features, it calmed some of Ludwig’s nerves, just a little.

“That isn’t important. But you’re lonely, right? And it’s causing you pain, yes?”

His voice was deep; much lower than Arendt’s, the only other reference he had for an adult man, surprising Ludwig a bit.

The boy nodded.

The man dug into one of his pockets, taking out a key.

“Here. I’ll be your friend; all you have to do is take the other end of this key, and you won’t feel any of that loneliness and pain any more…”

Tentatively, Ludwig took it.

The boy gasped as he suddenly felt something overwhelming and indescribable other than energy blitz between him and the strange man through the key; it was painless, in fact almost manic energy, bright lights flashing in his vision.

Ludwig woke up.

The boy laid there, his eyes wide, his mind mulling over what he had just seen.

“A dream… it was a dream… Who was that man?”

He turned, and there Schwarzchen was.

“Never mind… Good morning, Schwarzchen.”

<Are you really going with that name?>

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

<I thought children were supposed to be creative?>

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He held his head; it seemed to be coming from within his head, like a thought, instead of from his ears.

“...Schwarzchen? Is that you?”

<Yes, this is the eagle. And I have a name.>

Ludwig took a few seconds to process the information.

“...What? ...Mein Gott, I’ve really gone crazy…”

<No. This is real. I’m speaking to you through something called telepathy. Speaking to you through your mind. I could explain all the intricate details but it would probably short-circuit your child brain.>

“I know what it is. But it’s just like in the stories! Wow! I didn’t know they really happened!”

<Well you could say that.>

Ludwig sat up on the side of his bed.

“You keep insulting my naming sense. So what is your name?”

“Schwarzchen” looked him directly in the eyes.

<Well, well, it’s the same as yours, funnily enough. Ludwig.>

“We have the same name? What a coincidence.”

<But I know that is confusing. Just call me Lutz. That is what everyone calls me.>

“Alright… Lutz it is. ...I liked ‘Schwarzchen’ though.”

<...Whatever, kid.>

---------------------------

Like that, Ludwig and Lutz became friends.

His 10th birthday had been the best birthday he had in years, even if it was just the two of them.

Over time, Lutz taught the boy how to use telepathy; and without him saying a word, he became a third hand to him, especially in hunting; more meats were amassed with every session, and fruits even from the highest trees were now accessible. 

...Sometimes. Other times, the eagle merely preened itself, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all eagles were like this. But even then, he didn’t mind. Even if Lutz was a cold, snarky jerk sometimes, it didn’t matter.

Every day, they ate together, went hunting together, bathed together, and at the end of the day slept together.

He could almost forget his loneliness, and the fact that his mother would never return.

Almost.

——————

As Ludwig braced himself on his bed, he once again counted his breaths.

The wrath he felt that day; it was coming back. From within, it seemed to spread to his entire body, to the point it was unbearable.

He would never forget that pain. He couldn’t. But mindless rage was for the foolish.

He wouldn’t forget. But he would remember, silently.

When he looked to Lutz, Lutz didn’t seem afraid at all. He merely stared at him with those violet eyes.

Ludwig embraced Lutz, not letting go.

-----------------

Lutz stared at the young boy as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

<How cute.>

It was easy.

A bit too easy.

What did he expect from a child though.

<Still, would have liked a bit more of a challenge.

Oh well. Sleep tight, kid.

...Though do I always have to be right next to you?>

--------------------

Over the next year, Ludwig grew. Now on the cusp of puberty, he became stronger, he could run faster and further, and he could shoot with more and more accuracy.

On the morning of his 11th birthday, Lutz presented him with a query.

<Kid.>

“Huh? What is it, Lutz?”

<Now that you know that your mother isn’t coming home…>

Ludwig froze.

<Don’t cry on me.>

“I wasn’t going to”

<Yes, yes. In anyway, since you know you mother isn’t coming home, what’s the point staying in this place anymore?>

The boy pondered it.

<I’m a bird and even I know it’s pointless waiting for someone if they’re clearly dead. Well maybe I’m not the one to talk here.>

He was right.

“But… This is all I have ever known.”

<Don’t worry about it. You’re smart. I think. You should find out what to do soon enough.>

“...Jawohl. I don’t know what my purpose is being here forever too… It’s not like this place will disappear either. And it’s not what Mutter would want me to do. ...We’re leaving tonight.”

————-

Ludwig opened his drawer.

There it was; the notice he had torn up all those years ago.

Why did he still have it?

Just so he would never forget, probably.

Ludwig sealed the notice into a pouch before the rage became too much to bear, stuffing it into his bag, going to fetch his clothing. He had a sailor suit saved up for “special occasions”; he hoped he hadn’t outgrown it already.

--------------

Ludwig looked behind his back one last time to the small cabin, the cornflowers, the trees he had known for his entire 11 years of living.

It felt so odd to know he would be away from it after so long 

He quickly ran back, Lutz grumbling behind him, and picked a few flowers, pressing them between the pages of a book.

<Are you done now?>

“Jawohl. Coming, coming!”

-----------

When Ludwig entered the capital, the little truly important belongings he had on his back, he was in awe.

It bustled with energy, with people, rickety, clanking automobiles and trolleys spewing steam or smoke that made him cough if he went to close, radio commercials resounding through the air, as well as delicious smells the likes of which he hadn’t known in years, some never before, but mixed in with the inexplicable smell of whatever was coming out of the automobiles.

Ludwig wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or disliked it, but most accurately he would describe it as a strange mix of the two; but more than anything, everything was so new.

He marveled at the sight of a trolley passing by, when he heard honking behind him.

“Get out of the way brat!”

Ludwig stepped back, hopping back to the sidewalk, and an automobile clunked on, its driver looking at him irritated.

But its movements fascinated him, how the machine seemed to move magically, how it seemed to have a life of its own.

“...Where should I even start?”

<Well? Do you have any relatives?>

“Not that I know of.”

Lutz looked to the right. His light of sight led to a small group of children. 

<You could try living on the streets like them for a few days. See where it gets you.>

“...Oh.”

Ludwig sighed. He may as well.

————-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

“No money? We aren’t a charity, sorry.”

“Outta the way!”

————-

Ludwig slept in an alley that night, huddled in his old blanket.

He was so tired. He just remembered he hadn’t slept for an entire day, and it was finally catching up to him.

He had gotten some attention due to being cleaner-looking than the rest, though Lutz was far more charming in their eyes. But more often than not, the overwhelming message in the air was clear; he wasn’t welcome here.

“Lutz?”

<What is it, kid?>

“Why didn’t you tell me I needed money for everything?”

<Didn’t you read about it?>

“I didn’t know it was this necessary.”

<I can’t hold your hand all the time.>

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

“There’s so many people here. But I still feel so alone.”

<Well at least you got some to get through the night. Don’t be choosy.>

“Jawohl… Good night.”

————

Seeing no reason not to, Ludwig had decided to explore the city a bit more the next morning, after having helped himself and Lutz to a piece of bread and some beef jerky he had bought, plus the miscellaneous items he had been given the day before.  

After a long while of walking, taking in the different sights, from the historical landmarks and building to new projects, some even in the midst of being built, neatly separated or together, working in at times harmonious and at times chaotic tandem. Every so often he saw stray animals run about. After some time he started to see schoolchildren, some about his age, run to school with their friends, adults dressed in suits on their way to work.

Until, Ludwig started to feel the air change.

It felt somewhat... sticky? The breeze seemed stronger. And inexplicably salty.

For he had reached the city harbor. Birds, they were called seagulls he believed, cawed above. Fishermen had far since left the dock, and in the distance, trade ships were being loaded to go who knows where. And they were floating on a vast, open field of water, water, nothing but water.

“Lutz... is this...”

<The ocean? What, you don’t even know what the ocean is?>

He had heard his mother’s stories about the ocean; while she had never been a woman of the seas per se, she was in the army, not the navy after all, he had heard her describe growing up near it. It was odd thinking that she, too, had been a child once like him.

This ocean was to her like the forest was to him, quite possibly.

She had also spoken about a rumor; a rumor that a wish put into a bottle and cast into the sea would, eventually, be granted. She had dismissed it as childish of course. And she did say that she much preferred the land after growing up.

Though according to Onkel Arendt, she would at times, despite this, just go to her childhood home, staring out into the eternal ocean.  

He wondered what she had thought as her red eyes stared out into the distant horizon, the salty breeze flowing through her silver-white hair. 

It was strange, imagining his mother like that. The sea was so free, almost careless; the complete opposite of her. But maybe that was exactly what drew her to it.

Ludwig started running along the dock, letting Lutz chase him, the briny wind rushing past him and through his hair. People had started to come to swim, and the city was starting to fully come to life.

Even if life was hard, at least he had some way of entertaining himself when everything was so brand new.

--------------

One day, a duo of teenagers spotted Ludwig.

And being the thugs they were, Ludwig suddenly found himself in confrontation with two kids much larger, older, and stronger than he; even if Ludwig was tougher than most 11-year-olds, these two seemed to be about 14 at least, if not, and probably, 15.

“Hey street rat, where’s your mutti?!”

Ludwig tried not to pay them any heed, even if he bristled at the rude words.

“...What business do you have with me?”

The shorter one grabbed him by the collar.

“I asked you a question, shorty!”

After the initial shock and fear, Ludwig felt a flash of anger. His fists clenched as he tried to struggle his way out. And worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything.

<Kid. Listen.>

“What?!”

<Listen to me. Tell me to “Intimidate”. Now. Don’t ask questions.>

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

Ludwig stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just witnessed, as the teenagers ran away, screaming “DEMON BIRD! DEMON BIRD!”

Lutz flew back and perched on his head, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened.

“How… how…”

<I’m a Very Amazing Bird, you could say.>

————

A week passed; Ludwig counted, as he always valued timekeeping, no matter what. The other street children left him alone, eyeing him strangely. Occasionally, he heard extortionists threatening some unfortunate soul.

That was when, however, Lutz told him something vital.

<Hey. Have you ever considered asking the police if you have any relatives?>

Ludwig looked at the eagle perched on his arm, puzzled.

“What?”

Lutz pointed a wing at a building.

<There. It says “POLIZEI”. Can’t you read?>

“...Why? Won’t they throw me in jail or something?”

<Actually they have records too. They might have your mother’s family on file.>

Lutz looked to see Ludwig’s dumbfounded face staring back at him.

“...Why didn’t you tell me that?!”

He took flight and landed on his head, preening himself. 

<Thought it would be interesting to observe you. Also don’t be too loud. Everyone will think you’re a crazy person.>

Ludwig took a look around, and indeed there were some passerbys staring at him.

Ludwig loudly sighed, his palm on his face.

“...Fine. Thanks anyway.”

--------------------------

“Your name?”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

The officers looked at him for a few seconds.

“...As in Julia Beilshmidt? General Julia Beilshmidt?”

“Jawohl.”

They were in shock.

“...Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

“Erm… We apologize. Ja.”

“Do I have any relatives? I need some place to stay.”

“...Ja. We will search immediately. Please wait here. But it may take a while.”

————-

“Hallo? Is this the police? Why must you be calling?”

“Well, you see, sir… It appears that a relative of yours has suddenly shown up out of nowhere. ...He claims to be Beilshmidt’s son.”

“...Mein Gott. Julchen did say she had a son… I knew she wasn’t the type who should be able to take care of a child. I will be there as soon as I can.”

-------------

<This is boring.>

“I know, Lutz. Shut up.”

Lutz did something that resembled a yawn.

“He should be here soon-”

It was then that the door to the police station opened with just enough force to be noticeable without slamming.

Standing there was a dark brown-haired gentleman with a large, curly cowlick, probably in his thirties, most likely affluent from his clothing.

“Excuse me, I hear there was someone waiting for me here?”

Ludwig stood up, and their eyes met.

“Hallo. ...You are Ludwig?”

He adjusted his glasses, then his tie.

“Ja?”

He looked him over.

“Ah, I can see some of the resemblance. Though you’re actually somewhat adorable, unlike her.”

“...Is that an insult against her?”

Realizing his mistake, the man cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry.”

He outstretched his hand.

“I am Herr Roderich Edelmann. Your mother’s cousin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, but it is nice being able to see you with my own two eyes.”

Ludwig took the hand, shaking it.

“Ludwig Beilshmidt. Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Then, suddenly, Roderich’s formal facade dropped and he pulled the boy into a hug.

“You’re so precious! You may call me Onkel Roderich! Don’t worry, we will take great care of you!”

Lutz looked on in amusement as Ludwig’s cries of shock became muffled in the man’s chest.

Ludwig was flabbergasted. It had been so long since he had been hugged. He only could relive them in his memories, and they weren’t frequent, but here he was, feeling it yet again, surrounded by warmth; he didn’t know how to process it.

But if there was one emotion he was certain about as the man smoothed his hair and cooed over him, it was that he felt loved.

————-

Ludwig held on tightly as the automobile rocked around them. Roderich didn’t seem to mind it whatsoever, but Ludwig had only heard of an automobile once, and had seen, much less ridden, none. Roderich was happy to make him comfortable next to him though, warning him whenever a bump or “pothole” was coming up.

“But really… What is such a magnificent eagle doing with you? A black Strix no less?”

<Someone called?>

“Black Strix?”

“You don’t know? They’re an exceedingly rare species! And this one is such a beautiful dark coal hue; I’ve always been partial to Black Strixes, they’re said to have a particularly strong mystical power.”

“I didn’t know he could be more special... His name is Lutz.”

“...Lutz? As in…”

“Jawohl.”

Roderich looked puzzled.

“Erm… Mutter named him.”

Roderich huffed.

“Ah, Julchen, of course...”

“He was my last Sancbruma present from her before she died.”

Roderich quieted for a few seconds.

“Oh… I see. We will accommodate him too. Do not worry. ...Also, no need to ‘jawohl’ around me.”

“Jawo… ja.”

—————

Onkel Roderich was a renowned musician; he was a master of many instruments and even knew how to compose, but his main forte was the piano. He was sought after for his talents across the land.  

And he had the house to show it as well.

“Welcome to your new home, Ludwig.”

Ludwig took it all in; the house was already larger than average compared to others in town, and as a boy who had grown up in a small log cabin all his life, it seemed especially enormous.

A woman with long, light brown hair came up to them, looking from Roderich to Ludwig.

“Ah, Erzsébet! This is my nephew, Ludwig. He will be staying with us from now on.”

Roderich bent his knees so he was at Ludwig’s level.

“Ludwig, this is Erzsébet, my wife.”

“H… hallo. Nice to meet you, Tante Erzsébet.”

Ludwig outstretched his hand.

The woman merely eyed him for a few seconds.

“Hallo. I guess.”

She said, gruffly, with a distinctly foreign accent.

Roderich sighed.

“Erzsébet, why do you have to be like this?”

“Why do we have to take in this ratty-looking kid?”

Ludwig scowled.

“Hey!”

Roderich held Ludwig closer, glaring at her.

“Erzsébet! He’s a child! Have you no heart?!”

“Fine, fine.”

She shook his hand, roughly.

“But wow, an eagle! A Strix no less?! I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see one!”

Lutz merely yawned.

Ludwig couldn’t help but snicker as an unamused frown crept across Erzsébet’s face.

“...Whatever. Make yourself at home I guess.”

She walked off.

“Prepare the bath and extra room for the boy! Come on now!”

Roderich commanded, and soon after servants bowed and quickly ran upstairs in single file.

“Don’t mind my wife. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to hear from you. But she will warm up to you eventually. Though… you are in need of new clothes, aren’t you?”

He gave the boy a once-over, making Ludwig look down to his old, beaten-up and washed out child-sized military uniform.

“Sadly, we do not have any clothes your size as of now. I will have a servant hire the tailor immediately. Meanwhile I will order them to wash what you have now.”

<He’s awfully happy to see you, isn’t he?>

“Ja… he seems like a nice person.”

————

That might, Ludwig had the best dinner he had ever had.

He could only marvel at the dishes in front of him; even those he had heard of before looked so refined. And there was so much of it! The variety of bread available in particular was amazing.

But he couldn’t let himself forget his discipline. Even if it took all his willpower not to start gorging himself on everything like he had been possessed by some demon of gluttony.

“Onkel, what is this?”

“A chocolate torte, you see. A type of cake.”

Ludwig remembered actually having a cake a grand total of once. He still remembered its sweetness so well and it was probably the best thing he ever had eaten. And then there were two other things he had only read about before.

...And Lutz seemed unusually interested in it.

He couldn’t blame him though, it’s aroma was mesmerizing to Ludwig’s senses.

“Chocolate? Is that what the brown is?”

“You have never had chocolate before?! Mein Gott, Julchen, What have you done?”

Ludwig was quick to take a bite, and he froze.

The mellow, deep sweetness melted on his tongue, spreading throughout his mouth in such an indescribably perfect way, a tinge of bitterness within that instead of detracting from the experience, somehow harmonized with the sweetness in such a heavenly way.

“...Ludwig?”

“...It’s amazing.”

Roderich seemed somewhat amused by how floored the boy was.

“Even your mother was quite a fan.”

<Hey, hey. Kid.>

Ludwig was surprised by the unusual agitation in Lutz’s thoughts. He didn’t think he had ever heard anything like it before.

“Lutz? What is-“

<I need it. Now. Don’t ask questions!>

Ludwig almost panicked, giving a piece to the impatient eagle.

“Ludwig!”

“I… erm… It was unfair to have it to myself!”

“...Is chocolate even safe for eagles?”

Erzsébet questioned.

“Wait wha-“

<Don’t worry. ... Ahh, bliss...>

Ludwig smiled nervously.

“He’ll be fine.”

The couple just stared, confused.

“Erm…”

“Trust me! I know him well. ...Can I have more? Please?”

“Absolutely.”

His face absolutely lit up at that, and in the corner of his vision Ludwig saw quite possibly the most genuine expression of joy he had seen from Lutz in all the time he knew him.

“Why’s it that everyone in your family loves chocolate so much?”

Erzsébet asked as her husband took another piece.

“Why don’t you is the better question.”

“...Actually, yup, you two definitely are related. Leave some for me though!”

————

Roderich doted on the boy; he made sure he had the nicest clothes and the nicest food that he could afford.

He had made sure the room was in absolute best condition, that his pillows were always fluffed and bed always made, even if Ludwig insisted he wanted to do it on his own.

He taught him everything about the basics of civilization, how to read more complex sentences, how to play the piano and the violin, even how to dance. He took him with him to work, across the city and sometimes even country to places he had at best read about and to meet so many new people.

His next Sanctbruma and 12th birthday were the most extravagant he had ever had.

Yet…

Yet something was missing.

Despite the man’s kindness, he felt something wasn’t right. Ludwig couldn’t put a finger on what, and he felt awful about it to be sure; he did so much for him, what more could a boy ask for?

But yet…

Sure, Erzsébet never completely warmed up to him; even if she wasn’t as cold to him, according to Lutz she was merely tolerating him. And the same was true for many of the servants.

But that didn’t change the fact that Roderich himself was nothing but loving towards him. Even if he had curfews and other such rules, he never had trouble with rules. His mother raised him to obey rules. And while he was often busy, he still tried his best to spend time with him.

Finally, he actually had someone who resembled a parent after all those years. He should have been thankful.

But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Someone had to be doing something wrong.

At times, he still lay awake at night, those lonely days and nights and that fateful Sanctbruma playing back in his mind; as well as the accompanying emotions of pure hatred and wrath.

Once, Roderich has entered the room at an inopportune time to Ludwig curled up in his bed, seething, growling at him to leave him alone.

While he didn’t say anything about it at dinner, it was obvious he was disturbed by it.

“...Lutz. Why can’t I be happy? I still feel alone, but I don’t even know why.”

<Maybe you’ve been alone for too long. You’re past the point of return, kid. Maybe you should come to peace with it.>

“At least I have you.”

<Whatever.>

———

“Ludwig.”

“Ja, Onkel Roderich?”

The man sighed.

“It has been over a year since you started living with us. What is it with your standoffish behavior? Is something wrong? I will listen to it.”

“...I just can’t, Onkel.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why.”

The man looked so disappointed.

“I try my best to make you happy, Ludwig. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to satisfy your needs.”

“Nein. It isn’t that.”

Roderich shook his head.

“As I was saying… the chords for this piece are…”

—————

Ludwig continued to do his practice drills whenever possible, even if they had taken a different shape; makeshift targets became proper shooting galleries, improvised exercises became possible using an open space between buildings and proper equipment. And as he grew more and more by the day, his physical abilities took leaps and bounds above what he had been capable of before. He just wished he could go more than weekly. At first, Roderich objected, but it didn’t take long for him to cave in.

After all, he had to keep himself in shape, especially as he now had access to all the candy and chocolate that could be plausibly afforded.

After a while, Roderich started to continuously try to ask him to consider other options in this weekly time slot. He was never too forceful, however. And after a while, as Ludwig expressed his clear annoyance, it finally ceased just as it had begun.

There was another episode that irked Ludwig.

One night, as he went to get a glass of water, he had seen Roderich, seemingly sneaking away from his room.

“...Onkel?”

The man bristled as soon as he turned on the lights.

“Erm… Ludwig, I didn’t expect you to be awake..

Then, Ludwig saw it.

In his hands was his mother’s necklace.

“...What are you doing with Mutter’s necklace?”

He immediately stuffed it inside his pocket and turned around, a fake smile on his face.

“What necklace, my dear Ludwig?”

“I know you’re hiding it.”

The man sighed, taking it back out again.

“I… I wanted to put it in a place it will be safer in.”

Ludwig tried not to grill him further, even as he felt something fueled by doubt start to boil within him.

“I’m sure it will be safe with me. It’s been so for all the years I’ve had it. Can I have it back now?”

“...Ja.”

Ludwig swiftly took it back, going down to get his glass. He really needed one.

“You could tell a servant to get it for you?”

“No. I prefer to do it on my own.”

When Ludwig had returned to his room, he had quite the things to say to Lutz.

“Lutz. Why did you let him take it?”

<I was sleepy, kid. Why do you care about that thing so much?>

“It’s from Mutter. You should know. ...Lutz. If anything, protect this with your life.”

<Oh come on now.>

“I’m serious. It’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

<What do you want from me? Good night.>

——————

One day, as Ludwig overheard some servants speaking to each other in hushed voices, glancing at him every so often.

He was able to catch two things; “...Mister Edelmann” and “barren”.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But for whatever reason he didn’t like the sound of it.

That night, after some shouting, once again Roderich stormed out of the master bedroom, telling Erzsébet to “Get a hold of yourself already, you indecipherable woman!”, to his own separate room, as Erzsébet shouted some words back that sounded really angry and probably inappropriate.

<There goes the lovely couple.>

Lutz thought, as Ludwig tried to sleep. Lutz, meanwhile, had no trouble.

————

13-year-old Ludwig stood outside of the bar, alongside Lutz, as always, and other members of his gang.

It was in a seedy, rough part of town. And it was where their rival gang frequented most often.

It wasn’t the most well-to-do of bars, to say the least; as soon as they entered, the air smelt pungently of alcohol, and ambiently of various nasties.

<Ergh. What a dump.>

They immediately saw their target; the offending gang’s leader.

Their leader went up to confront her rival, fists clearly ready to fly.

“Hey! We know ya killed him!”

“Who?”

The rival boss said, with a cheeky grin.

“Ya know who!”

The two continued to escalate their argument, until they became close to blows.

“Enough yammerin’! Get ‘em, boys n’ girls!”

Suddenly, they were grabbed by the rival gang bangers, including Ludwig, who held back a yelp, Lutz flying into the air.

“Come back, ya stupid bird!”

“We didn’t kill one of yer ratpack, asshole! Now get out or we’re gonna force ya out!”

“...You better tell us.”

Ludwig said, tersely, utilizing his now lowering voice and copying his mother’s tone.

The rival boss laughed.

“Or what, kid? What are ya gonna do, huh? Man your recruiting standards have gone down!”

His boss smirked.

“Ya better listen to the kid.”

“Or what?”

They laughed uproariously.

“Lutz. Restrain.”

Their laughing instantly stopped, their faces going sheet white, all the other bar patrons, the bartender, and staff turning to gawk.

For they bore witness to the gang boss being pinned down, on the floor, between the talons of a giant, terrifying raptor straight out of hell, its eyes glowing, its beak as sharp as an ice pick, with which it screeched in the unfortunate gangster’s terrified face.

Ludwig walked up to the rival boss with measured steps, the gangsters holding him having let go out of sheer terror, the thumping of his feet the only sounds other than his companion’s breathing and the squeaks and sputtering from bystanders and rival gangsters, and pulled out his old pistol, aiming it at the thug’s head, glaring daggers so sharp that they could gouge eyes out.

Show your enemy no mercy.

Once again, he thought he heard his mother's voice in his ear.

“Tell us the truth.”

The rival boss sputtered, shaking like a leaf, looking awfully smaller than the much younger boy.

“We… we… d-d-di…”

Ludwig cocked his pistol.

“Speak in a real language!”

The rival boss flinched, and the rest of the rival gang huddled, terrified.

“W-we didn’t do anything! I-I swear! I swear!”

Ludwig lowered his pistol slightly.

“...Really?”

“J-ja! I swear! I swear by both the Heavenly and Hellish Yards! P-p-please let me go, Sir!”

“...Alright. Lutz, release.”

The eagle shrank back down to size, returning to his perch on Ludwig’s outstretched arm.

His boss grumbled.

“Whoop. That was pointless. Lud, let’s get outta this dump.”

They turned to leave, the other people in the bar still staring at them.

“W-Wait.”

Ludwig and his boss turned back to the humiliated rival boss.

“We might’ve not killed ‘im. But I-I have a good idea who might’ve.”

———-

“So, Lud. Good job today. We’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“Jawohl.”

Their boss patted Ludwig on the head and gave the group a once-over.

“Ok. You’re all dismissed.”

Ludwig was quick to leave, the others staring after him.

“What’s it with him? I swear, it’s like he doesn’t wanna be associated with us.”

“He said something about a curfew.”

“Really? Kid still follows curfews? What is he, 10?”

-----------------

When Ludwig came back, Roderich was waiting for him.

“Ludwig.”

“Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich’s expression was serious and stern.

“...What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean, Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich held Ludwig’s shoulders.

“Let me state this plainly.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’re involved in gang activity, aren’t you?”

Ludwig was in shock.

“How…”

Roderich shook his head, his hand on his forehead.

“Ludwig. I am sure even Julchen taught you to obey rules.”

“I… I don’t want to depend on you for everything. I feel like a leech.”

Roderich was shocked.

“You’re only 13, Ludwig! It is alright! It isn’t worth putting yourself at risk like this!”

“I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Roderich shook his head.

“Don’t say that. You could deliver newspapers, or use those piano skills I taught you-“

“And they’re my friends.”

“Friends?! I care for you, why do you need them?! Do you even know any of their names?!”

“...”

“You’re going to get into trouble eventually, young man.”

“I… I know!”

Roderich flinched.

Ludwig looked down and stormed back into the house, into his room, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Hmph, teenagers...”

Erzsébet mumbled.

—————-

“Ludwig?”

Roderich opened the door to Ludwig’s room that night, peeking in.

Ludwig couldn’t bare to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry.”

Roderich sighed.

“Is it because I’m not Julchen?”

The boy felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I’m thankful for what you’ve done, and-”

“I see. Just try to forget about her, alright?”

Ludwig froze. He felt like someone had stabbed his heart.

“But…”

“I do so much for you. I give you everything. What was it that she had that I don’t? I’ve been a far better parent than that stone-hearted, cruel, cold-”

<Oh no. You’ve done it now.>

“DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT MY MUTTER!”

His voice cracked terribly, but he didn’t care.

Roderich stumbled back, his face pale, horrified.

Silence.

“Ludwig… I’m sorry.”

Ludwig buried his face into his pillows.

“...I’ll tell the servants to bring you dinner. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Leave me alone!”

“...I’m happy with any path you want to take. Just please stay safe.”

Roderich sighed and closed the door.

From that day on, Roderich started informing Ludwig of where police may find him, and locations of stations across the city. Anything for his safety, he had said.

But from that day on Ludwig knew; he knew that his suspicions were true, that all this time he was trying to make him forget about his mother. He couldn’t let that happen. It was only confirmation when he heard him brutally disparage her one night in a drunken stupor during one of his binge-drinking sessions.

Once again, Ludwig could trust no one.

And once again, wrath simmered within him.

----------------

Their boss summoned Ludwig and the rest of the gang to a gathering; to sort out their clues, they had said.

Ludwig was appreciated for his abilities; but outside of the action, he sat somewhat removed from the rest. He couldn’t connect with them much either.

His mother had despised lawbreakers; “scum”, “rats”, she would call them. If she knew what he was doing now, she would have caned his palms until they were raw and bleeding. She would have told him he was better than this. He never would have imagined he could stoop this low too. After all, he was his mother’s only son. He should have been destined for greatness.

Quite honestly, he didn’t fully understand what he was doing here either. How did he even get here? Was it just a business affair? Were they really his friends? 

Maybe it was because this was the closest thing to military service he could find. Even if it were on the other side of the law.

A girl a year or so older than him, the second youngest in the gang, came up to him attempting to speak to him. Ludwig hesitated, but in the end continued to be fascinated with the clues they had and Lutz.

“Hey give up on Herr Stick-In-The-Mud already! Bet he’s never even kissed a girl!”

A gangster said, using the nickname they often used when ribbing him.

“What’s with him? He to good for us?” One of them muttered when Ludwig refused a drink.  

“Ja. Imagine being one of us and caring about drinking ages. Never can understand Herr Stick-In-The-Mud.”

“Ja. Where was he raised, His Majesty’s Elite Imperial Barracks?”

“Hey, hey, did you hear that Boss might have the hots for him too?”

“Why don’t you fuckwits shut the fuck up?” Their boss barked at the last one. “The kid’s basically an infant!”

<You’re the most rule-bound gangster I’ve ever seen.>

“Why do they treat it as a bad thing?”

<You’re the one who joined a street gang, genius. They’ve got different rules.>

Ludwig looked at the bottle of cheap moonshine he had been offered again, sighed, and took a gulp.

He immediately gagged.

The last time he’d had booze was when Roderich had allowed him to try beer, and even then he had basically diluted half of it with water and it definitely didn’t taste like... whatever this bottle of horse urine was.

“Ack! This is awful! ...I did it, are you happy now?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Doesn’t count! He gagged!”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“Let’s get back on topic. We are discussing the murder of a fellow comrade. This is no time for inane chatter.”

Finally, the air became solemn.

“Ja, reasonable, I guess…”

“Now, onto the information Scout 2 gathered...”

—————-

Ludwig, more than anything, considered himself a logical person.

He and his mother both despised vagueness. It seemed pointless, really, all the dancing around the true meaning of your words in the name of “politeness”. While apparently many in this part of the continent were considered similarly blunt and practical, it seemed even then he was exceptional.

So his own emotional turmoil, how he could never seem to explain himself, frustrated him more than anyone else. It angered him.

But one thing he knew for sure was that he looked forward to stopping by the library on the way home. Thank goodness Roderich had taught him to read to a level more appropriate for his age; it was difficult at first, but he was also fortunately a fast learner.

He always had taken a fascination with the sciences. They were at first glance unpredictable, but once broken down and observed, logical. They made sense, they were rational. Recently, he started finding them more investing than fiction, in fact. And his new reading skills finally made the higher levels of it beyond simplistic drawings attempting to explain the laws of physics and magic accessible.

Which was why today he sat outside the library in his usual spot, looking through a medical encyclopedia, munching on one of many bars of dark chocolate and a small loaf of bread.

Lutz nibbled on pieces of chocolate Ludwig had given him, peeking from above him.

“HERS?”

<Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome.>

Ludwig looked to Lutz in shock.

<A rare genetic, psychiatric disorder with no known cause. Those afflicted by Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome, a Hereditary Evil Raiser, or HER, is said to be at their core an incarnation of malice, "programmed" to destroy the gods, everything they created and everything related to them. Therefore, as a natural prerequisite, they typically show extreme cruelty and having the compulsion to increase their own kind and ensure the continuation of their "mission" to spread malice by any means necessary, taking immense pleasure in doing so. Currently there is no known cure, though in high-functioning individuals it may be managed, and manifest in lesser ways.>

“How…”

<I have my ways.>

He flew off, now by his side. 

“Though… Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome? Who names this stuff?”

<Hey. They probably had their reasons.>

“Why do you care? Did you come up with it?”

<Maybe. Plus, that’s rich coming from the kid who literally named me “Blackie”.>

Ludwig sighed.

“I... Fine. And wait... are you reading with me?”

<Yeah, I can read. I never told you?>

Ludwig continued to stare at him.

“I... I just didn’t think you would...”

<Turn the page already. I already know this.>

"Maybe you could try reading a novel, Lutz?”

<Don’t care. Why should I care about what you flesh-apes think, much less fake ones? No one in the world knows what I’m thinking anyway.>

Ludwig closed the encyclopedia.

“You mean you feel that no one understands you, right?”

Lutz stared at him. 

His words struck him like a spark of lightning.

“That makes two of us”

An awkward few moments passed. For once in his life, Lutz had nothing to retort back.

Why was he so shocked?

Ludwig blinked, confused.

“Lutz? What’s wrong?”

<...Nothing.>

Lutz didn’t know what he had just felt.

“That makes two of us” 

It should have meant nothing, coming from this brat.

But yet...

Whatever. It probably still meant nothing.

-------------------------

“We’ve got our guy! Rich bastard’s not gonna know what hit ‘im.”

Their boss said, confidently, gesturing to an assassin she had bought into their abandoned factory hideout.

The assassin looked across the crowd of gangsters.

“So. Which one of you brats wants to come?”

“Actually, we’ve got a good clue already for who’s gonna be a good fit for this mission.”

Ludwig waited, anxiously. He would gladly take the job of avenging his fallen comrade, of course.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig stood to attention.

“...You’ll be providing nice clothes for us to blend in!”

Ludwig was speechless.

“How… Why?”

<Turns out you aren’t as tough as you thought. Better luck next time, kid.>

But when all had left, he went up to his boss. He needed answers.

“Why am I excluded?”

She looked at him as if he was stupid.

“I don’t think ‘Giant Enemy Bird’ is a viable weapon to use on a cruise ship.”

“But… I can shoot well too! You said I was a great marksman!”

“You’re good. Gotta say that. Still, don’t know about your skills in stealth yet. Can’t risk it. Now, see ya.”

Then, she abruptly cut him off and left.

-----------------

Three days later, Ludwig and the rest of the gang not chosen for the plot awaited at the dock.

Soon, they spotted the assassination party, coming towards them.

One person was clearly missing.

“Hey! Boss! ...Boss? And where’s...”

Her face was dire.

“Shot dead. ...He spotted us. He saw all our faces. All of you are fucked. We’re all fucked.”

More silence.

“...WHAT?!”

Silence immediately gave way to panic.

Ludwig stood, frozen.

“How… Why…”

He clutched his head, overwhelmed.

“But it can’t…”

Emotions swirled inside the boy, overpowering all of his senses, all of his thoughts.

What was going to happen to him? His friends?

“No, no, no, nonononononono…”

<You know what to do, kid.>

Suddenly, he bolted.

Along the harbor, he ran.

Then, in a burst of emotion and without much thought, as if on instinct, he acted immediately as Lutz took off high into the sky, preparing to dive.

“SIC ‘EM, LUTZ!”

He didn’t even bother with the telepathy.

Everyone could only look on in shock and horror as monstrous, pitch-black wings appeared in the sky, seemingly not completely solid and with a godlike glow; to those who were watching from afar, it would have looked as if a demon raptor had materialized out of thin air.

The ship was no match. Before anyone could fully comprehend what was going on, the ship was swooped up into the talons of the avian monstrosity, and crushed into pieces, every single person on it with it.

----------------

Ludwig walked back to the gang, who all stood staring at him, utterly horrified.

Finally, someone broke the silence.

“...Holy shit.”

Another turned to him, their eyes wide.

“...Lud? Did you just…”.

The boy’s mind was blank. What could he even say?

He had killed all of them. Every single one of them.

But in the end...

“Mission accomplished…?”

“Am I trippin’?”

“Did we just witness a massacre?”

“...What the fuck?”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“But we accomplished our mission. ...I did what I had to do.”

“Ja, but… Holy shit.”

“In anyway…”

Their boss cleared her throat.

“Let’s… Let’s go with this loot before the cops find out.”

The rest could only muster a “Ja” in unison.

Lutz flew up to Ludwig, as unbothered as always.

“Lutz…”

<Just did as I was told. Don’t complain to me. Here.>

In the raptor’s talons was a doll; an eerily faceless, unusual, porcelain-ish doll of indeterminable gender.

<Here. I brought a present.>

“What is…”

<Have it. Since I can’t give you Sancbruma presents, here it is, months early.>

“It’s… it’s probably from a dead child, Lutz!”

<Don’t be ungrateful. Oh, and your buddies are waiting. You should go.>

“...Ja. I did what I had to do. We killed him. That’s all that should matter…”

————-

The news of the shipwreck was all over the radio. They had listened to it in their hideout, huddled around the device.

“The perpetrator is currently unknown. However, many claim to have heard the voice of a boy or young man scream for the bird to attack…”

————-

When Ludwig came home, Roderich was standing in front of the door, in shock.

“Ludwig…”

“Onkel?”

“...It was you wasn’t it?”

Ludwig looked down to his feet.

“Lutz, specifically…”

<Hey.>

Roderich pulled him into a protective embrace.

“You could have put yourself in so much danger! What if the police find out about you?! Don’t you dare do that again.”

"...”

Roderich pulled him in.

“Now, come in before someone recognizes you.”

—————

Roderich rarely ever let him join the rest of the gang since that day; it was too dangerous, he had said.

He went out mostly in a dark hood for a disguise, at times without Lutz, for over the radio, one expert had identified the terror bird as “a black Strix transformed with powerful magic.”

Later that year, a month before Sancbruma and two months before his 14th birthday, he had heard something unusual.

<Ludwig… Ludwig…>

“Huh?”

Telepathy. But Lutz wasn’t with him; it came from the doll in his bag.

Ever since that fateful day, Lutz had told him to carry it for some vague reason he couldn’t understand; his alleged simple explanation was “It’s amusing to see you carry around a girly doll like that.”

<Ludwig...>

He took the bag off his back and looked in. 

<Someone is after you. You have been found out. You must run.>

“What?! How do you…”

<Do not ask. Please, please run… you must.>

He slung it back over his shoulder.

“Lutz!”

He had to get Lutz. Now.

But by the time he had gotten home, it was too late.

“No, Sir, he is not here. You will not find him here…”

“There he is!”

Two figures stood with Roderich; two figures he didn’t recognize.

A tanned, hazel-eyed, otherwise unassuming man with his hair tied back and in a partially unbuttoned shirt, probably from the south of the continent, turned his attention away from Roderich, and pointed at Ludwig, gun in hand.

“Ludwig Beildshmidt! You’re under arrest!”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. Emotions and stress once again blitzed through him.

“Lutz! Restrain! ...Lutz? Lutz?!”

His eyes darted next to the man to the other figure, what Ludwig thought to be a long-haired, somewhat tall foreign woman in eastern attire, her dark, raven hair pulled back into a ponytail; seemingly holding Lutz back without touching the bird, but clearly struggling.

“Hurry!”

She shouted, in a foreign accent Ludwig didn’t recognize.

Ludwig bolted.

“Don’t you dare, you-“

“Herr Edelmann! Stop, you’re interfering with police procedure!”

“Don’t touch him!”

The mysterious man finally shoved the other man off him and gave chase, but Roderich grappling with him had given him some extra time...

“Ludwig! RUN! RUN!”

But before Ludwig could escape, all of a sudden he was blindsided by a third person, jumping on his back and pinning him down, the boy’s small body no match for the adult.

“LUDWIG!”

“Let me go, LET ME GO!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying before he had been slammed on the back of the head.

Ludwig blacked out.

To be continued in part 2...

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Author’s notes:

So I had to split this thing in half since it became much longer than I expected. Wow this is a monster. You will see the parts listed here after I write them. Parts, because this will have two different routes! Hopefully! Then again it seems like no one read this...

Also, the scene with the sea is even more ambiguous “canon” in this already ambiguously “canon” story, but I wanted to write it in because I liked it, having seen the idea that Prussia has some kind of connection to the sea before and liking it. I wish I could find it now. I think Alt-Prussia would have grown up with the sea when he was younger, and while he would stay very strictly a land fighter (in fact the Prussian navy was never all that good, being mostly a merchant fleet. Even the German navy, while it did go through a growth period in the 1880s in competition with Britain I believe, by WWII at least their Kriegsmarine kind of sucked. It’s why the invasion of Britain never happened, their navy would have been laughably curbstomped), and I still associate England, Netherlands, or Portugal way more with the ocean, maybe the North Sea has some kind of soothing effect on him.

Also adorable child!Germany is adorable. Why do I love this kid so much? Why is he so damn cute?!

(This is an alternate version of “Key to Zorn!”. You may read either version, as the differences are mostly superficial, but I thought this version may be more fitting considering how I write Alt-Germany)

[Summary: Crossover with the Wrath arc of the Evillious Chronicles. Everyone is searching for their very own Happy Ending... But where is his, if it exists at all?

Young Ludwig Beilshmidt lives alone in a cabin, waiting for the return of his mother. But one winter morning, a certain, seemingly chance encounter, changes his life forever, leading his life to become increasingly entangled with much larger plans...]

(Yes, lame summary, but I didn’t know how to write it without spoilers. The same text as the original is copy-pasted below)

Couldn’t come up with a better title.

Okay… so… holy hell.

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. And it isn’t even finished.

I thought “Superbia” was long. But… I outdid myself. Over FORTY FREAKIN’ PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS. And again, this is not finished, I’m splitting it so I at least have the hope of releasing something! With two routes! This is a novel, folks!

I’m probably going to repost this for the Christmas event since I want as much people to see them as possible. Because there are some Christmas elements here. So yeah, you can take this as an early Christmas fic too.

This will be a movie, folks. Grab a seat and some popcorn.

Also, look, it’s goddamn Ludwig torment again! For the fourth time in the span of a month! And this might just be the most elaborate way I’ve tormented the poor guy yet. But I didn’t really have many options.

So I wanted to enter Mirror Week, but in the main canons write in, Alt-talia and Hetalia Emblem, I haven’t come up with any use for 2Ps, and in the former case I can’t see how I could use them.

However, there was one Alt-talia spin-off AU I had been thinking they would exist on; I didn’t know whether I wanted to release media to it so early, and due to a reason I will explain in a moment, I was reluctant to release media about it in general. But… I went with it.

This is my Evillious Chronicles AU. Yes, an AU of an AU. What about that.

Basically, the Evillious Chronicles is what started as a series of Vocaloid songs telling a much larger story; it has since ballooned into a vast, tangled network of light novels and other such media. It’s as confusing as it sounds. Some of you may have heard of the songs “Daughter of Evil” and “Servant of Evil”; those were the first songs to be released in that series. Those two songs weren’t self-contained, oh no.

The thing is, for this AU I wanted to write just based on the seven sin songs (and Servant of Evil), with accompanying Hetaloid covers, and leave the rest of the story up to the audience. I’m still planning on that. However, I still wanted to enter the event, so here I am presenting a version of events for one of the arcs; however, it is merely the route that hews closest to Evillious canon from what I can gather of it. So yeah, NONE OF THIS IS HARD CANON. Especially since I wasn’t sure on the roles of some characters here.

Also, if I somehow ever get to publishing my main Evillious x Hetalia fics sometime in the future; first of all, hi. But more importantly, please, I implore you, do not read this before reading The Muzzle of Ludwig. Especially the second half. I tried to avoid spoilers, but someone becomes extremely obvious with contextual clues.

Also… it’s not like I wanted to write Ludwig torment again. But he was basically my only option, since he was the only one whose sin most likely overlaps with… well, it’ll become clear as this goes on. Ludwig’s story here is based on Nemesis Sudou’s story. Though since Nemesis and Ludwig are vastly different characters, there may be some plot holes, unfortunately.

And THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: for those who have read none of my other works yet, Alt-talia has often vastly, vastly different characterizations. I based most of these characterizations off of their late 19th century to very early 20th century personalities in Alt-talia. Special OOC warning for the following characters: Austria, Hungary, and Prussia. Minor OOC warning for Germany. I used @askimperialludwig ‘s version of the character as a reference, along with my personal perception and research. may add more later.

Also, credit to my friend @tomboyjessie13 , my Evillious consultant, for helping me through this!

I can’t let this be too long, since the fic is long already. Let’s go!

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(Also... people who read my fics, please reblog them. I work hard on them, and want many to see them!)

And since I forgot to add this above the cut; this canon is also one of the few times Nyotalia characters canonically exist as their own entity in my works, if not the only one so far. It’s kind of necessary, since otherwise it’ll turn into a complete sausagefest. However, as I have no set personality for them in main Alt-talia canon, I basically write them the same way as I would their male counterparts, with maybe some minor changes. I do have some ideas for Nyotalia characters in “what if” stories for main Alt-talia canon, but since this would be an Alt-talia spinoff, most of my theoretical audience would be there for the Alt-talia characters who appear in most Alt-talia media. Not to mention male stereotypes for countries are usually more fun anyway. However, in this universe two counterparts of the same character can co-exist. I try to avoid that though.

Also, a character named “Arendt” is briefly mentioned; this is Brandenburg. He isn’t really that important though, and really I’ve barely fleshed him out, so that’s all you need to know.

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The Key To Zorn

Part one: And Then The Boy Went Mad

In a certain continent, there was a forest.

A serene, peaceful forest, where inside one could almost feel mystical energy in the clear, unpolluted air.

Until, under the evening sky, a gunshot sounded.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, a boy of merely 8 with innocent, cornflower blue eyes, ran through the forest he knew so well, a basket of wild berries and herbs in his arms and a small sack over his back.

Soon, in his view, among the trees and wild cornflowers was the only place he had known all his life, the little wooden cottage he called home.

The boy immediately checked his old, somewhat rusted mailbox, a look of anxiousness on his face - one which immediately turned to disappointment upon finding there was nothing there.

He sighed.

“Nothing today either...”

He reached up somewhat, twisting the doorknob and opening the wooden door.

“I’m home!”

No one answered back.

As per usual.

He didn’t expect one anyway.

Ludwig went to the dining table, setting the basket and sack, as well as his small, old-model pistol, down on his side of the table. Inside the sack was a small rabbit; the poor little thing. He hoped it didn’t struggle for long after he had shot it.

He prepared dinner as he always did, the bubbling as the ingredients stewed the only sounds other than the cries of the wildlife outside.

And he ate in silence by the light of the lamp, staring at the empty, vacant other side of the table, the light of the sun dim and faint.

“Mutter, is it good?”

Nothing.

Ludwig sighed again, going back to shoving the stew into his mouth.

——-

Ludwig tucked himself into bed after a bath and a change of clothes, now in his old, almost too small pajamas, having finished the book in his hands an hour ago - while he had reread it and others several times already, it was a window into a world different from his, where friends supported each other and families told stories in front of the fire - but now that it was over, here he was, once again, stuck in loneliness, on his own, within the cold, dark walls of a small cabin.

Once again, it was quiet. All too quiet; except for the sounds of the forest.

Now as he had nothing to distract him, every rustling of the underbrush, every animal cry made him bristle. The forest was his comfort by day, almost a second mother, but by night, it was dark, feral.

He pulled his blankets up to his face, curling up, shaking like a leaf. He felt any moment, a beast could break through the walls and tear him to shreds.

He missed his mother so much, oh how he missed her. Her harsh but protective voice, her calloused hands squeezing his wrists. He missed his onkel Arendt, who told him stories of the battles he and Mutter had been through.

She’s dead. She’s dead, accept it.

No, no she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. She had to be alive.

She was too strong to die.

She would come back. She always came back.

His mother wouldn’t want to see him like this anyway. He was being pathetic.

“Einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than this.

Imagining his mother was standing by his bed, staring at him with disapproval at his fearful behavior, finally his shivering started to lessen ever so slightly.

He needed to make it so that when she came home with another medal shining on her chest, she could come home to a son she could be proud of, after all.

“Good night.”

He said to no one in particular, as he let the faint moonlight be his comfort, finally closing his eyes.

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

A soothing, calming melody played in his mind; Ludwig didn’t know where he knew it from, but as it surrounded him in soft, almost familiar gentleness, the shivering stopped, his muscles loosened, and he was finally lured into the welcome embrace of sleep.

Lu li la la lu li la la la…

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

———-

“FIRE!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Birds flew away in massive numbers, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Ludwig blew the steam off his pistol, seeing that the bullets had all landed near-target. Almost there.

Not bothered by the recoil anymore, he lined up the shot again, swearing he would get it right this time.

Every two days he did this, before 10 sets of running, marching, and every parallel bar routine; this wasn’t how most children his age passed their time, willingly anyway, if the books he read were any indication, and surely he felt sorry for the animals who had to hear such things, as they were the closest things to friends he had. But it broke the silence.

And most of all, he could almost sense his mother beside him during these practice drills; he could feel her hands on his arms guiding him in his aim, and hear her voice shouting in tandem with him as he shouted “FIRE!”. In fact, sometimes he swore she actually was there, by his side.

He took a deep breath and aimed again.

“FIRE!”

-----------------------

When he came home, he once again saw a basket of supplies.

They always puzzled him. They came at such random, unpredictable intervals, filled with food, a few bottles of milk, several cartridges of bullets, and even occasionally a book, toy, bar of soap, or other extra, but by the time he found them no one was ever there.

He should be grateful. Though he wished someone would explain to him.

Oh well.

-----------------------------

Days passed, then months.

Once again, on the night of his 9th birthday, Ludwig laid alone, the weak moonlight unable to brighten his gradually deepening pit of despair.

The silence was maddening. He craved for any touch, for any warmth of another person, for anything. But even that simple wish was too much to ask.

He bunched up the worn blanket, the cold, frigid winter air seeping into the cabin.

Every day, he wondered if he was slowly going mad.

Holding a cornflower and his mother’s black cross necklace to his chest, looked out into the moon, to the night sky peeking from a clearing in the trees.

A star shot through the night sky, and Ludwig was quick to make his wish.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

She had always told him that believing in such things was foolish.

But what was the pain in hanging onto the little light he could find?

-------------------

Now’s your time.

Alright. I’m going in. See you.

------------------

One cold, chilling day, towards the final days of the year he turned 9, Ludwig stepped outside to check his mailbox again.

Snow lightly dusted the ground, softly landing on his old, worn coat.

He had checked his homemade calendar; Sancbruma. Such a lovely holiday. But now, just yet another cold, freezing, lonely day. Oh well. He had known Pater Natalis wasn’t real for years to need confirmation.

But this day, after creaking the old thing open, he found something.

His heart almost stopped.

Immediately, he ripped the envelope often, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and he immediately glued his focus to the words, written specially to be understandable to a child.

Ludwig Beilshmidt, we are sorry to inform you that…

Time seemed to stop. He swore his heart stopped.

Dread shot through his body like lightning.

He read on, clinging onto the little hope that still remained with him all those years as they escaped from him, flying away as he fell deeper.

���

…

Tears fell from his face.

She was gone.

She was really gone.

Finally, suppressed despair replaced dread, filling every corner of his mind and body, every nerve, every muscle.

But mixed with it, and eventually almost overpowering it in the concoction of emotion, was wrath.

Pure, unbridled wrath.

He tore the paper and screamed, his screams piercing the serene forest air.

Tears fell from his eyes like a burst dam as he cried into his hands, cursing whoever had killed her, her fate, the cruelty of the gods.

If only he could get his hands on whatever bastard killed her, he would strangle them, he would gouge out their eyes, he would shoot them in the leg and watch them bleed to death, how dare they take his mother away!

He had always been told the best came to those who were patient.

He was proven wrong that day.

All those years, waiting, hoping, hoping for nothing.

Nothing.

His mother was never going to come back. Ever.

Grief, anger, and sadness gripped his small frame as he shook, on the ground, his young brain besieged with intense emotions and reality, dreaded, painful reality.

Don’t cry. How pathetic. Is that how I raised you?

Ludwig forced himself to take deep breaths, desperately fighting his tears and holding back the flow of the concoction of emotions any further.

No, his mother wouldn’t want to see him like this. He couldn’t let her be honored like this.

“Einz, zwei, drei, einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a breath with every word, forcing his emotions back and attempting to lock them away, until finally once again he could think somewhat coherently.

It was here he noticed something perched on the mailbox.

An eagle.

A medium-large eagle with pointy, perky ears and snout; a magnificent, beautiful coal-black Fernirhund, its bright, intelligent eyes a rare violet.

He didn’t notice it before in his panic, but now the dominant emotion in his mind was confusion.

As he sniffled, the eagle nudged him again with its nose, looking up at him with its soulful eyes.

“...A eagle?”

The eagle stared at him back.

Ludwig’s mind immediately jumped back to the beginning of the year.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

“Are… are you from my Mutter?”

Silence.

Immediately, he embraced the eagle, making it yelp, crying into its fur.

“It’s adorable! I love it Mutter! Thank you!”

It let him cry into its fur, as the boy’s short arms wrapped around it in the first living thing it had embraced, nay, touched, in years.

He was actually holding something living. Oh, it had been so long. Oh so long.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold life in his arms, to feel its warmth, to feel its gentle rising and falling, to hear the subtle sounds of another’s breath in his ears.

For the first time in years, despite the unforgiving cold of the winter morning air, warmth reached Ludwig’s heart, happiness brewing with and overpowering now subdued despair and rage.

<Sure… Whatever makes you happy, kid.>

------------------------------------------

“Oy vey… I was too late again.

...This world is fucked.”

-------------------------------------

Ludwig put a saucer of stew in front of the eagle, which surely enough it soon started lapping up.

“It’s good right? What should I call you… I’ll have to give you a name.”

He stared at the eagle, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The eagle looked at him.

“You like it? Then Schwarzchen it is!”

<...I didn’t say anything. ’Blackie’? You cannot be serious.>

--------------------

That night was different from usual.

Ludwig nestled his head in Schwarzchen’s fur, holding onto him like a stuffed animal, running his fingers through his soft coat. It had seemed reluctant at first, clearly not used to such close contact but as Ludwig begged it to stay, as if it understood him, it decided to stay with him.

The eagle’s breathing neutralized the deafening silence he had gotten so used to, its warmth protecting his small body from the frosty air.

It was like heaven.

Oh, he almost forgot something.

He took his mother’s necklace from his bedside table, putting it around the eagle’s neck like a collar.

“There. Perfect. It suits you.”

He barked.

“Good night, Schwarzchen.”

That night, sleep came to Ludwig easier than usual, as he was surrounded by his new companion’s soft breathing and warm fur.

----------

“Hallo. Kid. Wake up.”

Ludwig awoke, his eyes fluttering open.

Once his eyes focused, he almost yelped in shock.

He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, some formless void; Schwarzchen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the walls of his cabin or even his forest, all that remained was his bed.

In front of him was a man clad in what seemed to be a long white lab coat and some type of mantle, or at least Ludwig assumed, his clothing style almost resembling that in illustrations in one of his novels, ostensibly chronicling ancient legends; but not just any man.

A man who looked almost exactly like how one would imagine Ludwig would look like when he was older, save for his unnatural purple, almost magenta eyes that shined with a calculating glint, a scar under his left.

“H… hallo?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I… Who are you?”

The man smiled at him softly; despite his harsh features, it calmed some of Ludwig’s nerves, just a little.

“That isn’t important. But you’re lonely, right? And it’s causing you pain, yes?”

His voice was deep; much lower than Arendt’s, the only other reference he had for an adult man, surprising Ludwig a bit.

The boy nodded.

The man dug into one of his pockets, taking out a key.

“Here. I’ll be your friend; all you have to do is take the other end of this key, and you won’t feel any of that loneliness and pain any more…”

Tentatively, Ludwig took it.

The boy gasped as he suddenly felt something overwhelming and indescribable other than energy blitz between him and the strange man through the key; it was painless, in fact almost manic energy, bright lights flashing in his vision.

Ludwig woke up.

The boy laid there, his eyes wide, his mind mulling over what he had just seen.

“A dream… it was a dream… Who was that man?”

He turned, and there Schwarzchen was.

“Never mind… Good morning, Schwarzchen.”

<Are you really going with that name?>

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

<I thought children were supposed to be creative?>

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He held his head; it seemed to be coming from within his head, like a thought, instead of from his ears.

“...Schwarzchen? Is that you?”

<Yes, this is the eagle. And I have a name.>

Ludwig took a few seconds to process the information.

“...What? ...Mein Gott, I’ve really gone crazy…”

<No. This is real. I’m speaking to you through something called telepathy. Speaking to you through your mind. I could explain all the intricate details but it would probably short-circuit your child brain.>

“I know what it is. But it’s just like in the stories! Wow! I didn’t know they really happened!”

<Well you could say that.>

Ludwig sat up on the side of his bed.

“You keep insulting my naming sense. So what is your name?”

“Schwarzchen” looked him directly in the eyes.

<Well, well, it’s the same as yours, funnily enough. Ludwig.>

“We have the same name? What a coincidence.”

<But I know that is confusing. Just call me Lutz. That is what everyone calls me.>

“Alright… Lutz it is. ...I liked ‘Schwarzchen’ though.”

<...Whatever, kid.>

---------------------------

Like that, Ludwig and Lutz became friends.

His 10th birthday had been the best birthday he had in years, even if it was just the two of them.

Over time, Lutz taught the boy how to use telepathy; and without him saying a word, he became a third hand to him.

...Sometimes. Other times, the eagle merely yawned, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all eagles were like this. But even then, he didn’t mind. Even if Lutz was a cold, snarky jerk sometimes, it didn’t matter.

Every day, they ate together, went hunting together, bathed together, and at the end of the day slept together.

He could almost forget his loneliness, and the fact that his mother would never return.

Almost.

——————

As Ludwig braced himself on his bed, he once again counted his breaths.

The wrath he felt that day; it was coming back. From within, it seemed to spread to his entire body, to the point it was unbearable.

He would never forget that pain. He couldn’t. But mindless rage was for the foolish.

He wouldn’t forget. But he would remember, silently.

When he looked to Lutz, Lutz didn’t seem afraid at all. He merely stared at him with those violet eyes.

Ludwig embraced Lutz, not letting go.

-----------------

Lutz stared at the young boy as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

<How cute.>

It was easy.

A bit too easy.

What did he expect from a child though.

<Still, would have liked a bit more of a challenge.

Oh well. Sleep tight, kid.

...Though why do you have to use me as a pillow?>

--------------------

Over the next year, Ludwig grew. Now on the cusp of puberty, he became stronger, he could run faster and further, and he could shoot with more and more accuracy.

On the morning of his 11th birthday, Lutz presented him with a query.

<Kid.>

“Huh? What is it, Lutz?”

<Now that you know that your mother isn’t coming home…>

Ludwig froze.

<Don’t cry on me.>

“I wasn’t going to”

<Yes, yes. In anyway, since you know you mother isn’t coming home, what’s the point staying in this place anymore?>

The boy pondered it.

<I’m a eagle and even I think it’s pointless waiting for someone if they’re clearly dead. Well maybe I’m not the one to talk here.>

He was right.

“But… This is all I have ever known.”

<Don’t worry about it. You’re smart. I think. You should find out what to do soon enough.>

“...Jawohl. I don’t know what my purpose is being here forever too… It’s not like this place will disappear either. And it’s not what Mutter would want me to do. ...We’re leaving tonight.”

————-

Ludwig opened his drawer.

There it was; the notice he had torn up all those years ago.

Why did he still have it?

Just so he would never forget, probably.

Ludwig sealed the notice into a pouch before the rage became too much to bear, stuffing it into his bag, going to fetch his clothing. He had a sailor suit saved up for “special occasions”; he hoped he hadn’t outgrown it already.

--------------

Ludwig looked behind his back one last time to the small cabin, the cornflowers, the trees he had known for his entire 11 years of living.

It felt so odd to know he would be away from it.

He quickly ran back, Lutz grumbling behind him, and picked a few flowers, pressing them between the pages of a book.

<Are you done now?>

“Jawohl. Coming, coming!”

-----------

When Ludwig entered the capital, the little truly important belongings he had on his and Lutz’s backs, he was in awe.

It bustled with energy, with people, rickety, clanking automobiles and trolleys spewing steam or smoke that made him cough if he went to close, radio commercials resounding through the air, as well as delicious smells the likes of which he hadn’t known in years, some never before, but mixed in with the inexplicable smell of whatever was coming out of the automobiles.

Ludwig wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or disliked it, but most accurately he would describe it as a strange mix of the two; but more than anything, everything was so new.

He marveled at the sight of a trolley passing by, when he heard honking behind him.

“Get out of the way brat!”

Ludwig stepped back, hopping back to the sidewalk, and an automobile clunked on, its driver looking at him irritated.

But its movements fascinated him, how the machine seemed to move magically, how it seemed to have a life of its own.

“...Where should I even start?”

<Well? Do you have any relatives?>

“Not that I know of.”

Lutz pointed in the direction of some other children, in a way much like how a pointer or setter eagle would.

<You could try living on the streets like them for a few days. See where it gets you.>

“...Oh.”

Ludwig sighed. He may as well.

————-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

“No money? We aren’t a charity, sorry.”

“Outta the way!”

————-

Ludwig slept in an alley that night, huddled in his old blanket, snuggling against Lutz, who had gotten used to the close contact years ago.

He was so tired. He just remembered he hadn’t slept for an entire day, and it was finally catching up to him.

He had gotten some attention due to being cleaner-looking than the rest, though Lutz was far more charming in their eyes. But more often than not, the overwhelming message in the air was clear; he wasn’t welcome here.

“Lutz?”

Lutz looked up.

<What is it, kid?>

“Why didn’t you tell me I needed money for everything?”

<Didn’t you read about it?>

“I didn’t know it was this necessary.”

<I can’t hold your hand all the time.>

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

“There’s so many people here. But I still feel so alone.”

<Well at least you got some to get through the night. Don’t be choosy.>

“Jawohl… Good night.”

————

Seeing no reason not to, Ludwig had decided to explore the city a bit more the next morning, after having helped himself and Lutz to a piece of bread and some beef jerky he had bought, plus the miscellaneous items he had been given the day before.  

After a long while of walking, taking in the different sights, from the historical landmarks and building to new projects, some even in the midst of being built, neatly separated or together, working in at times harmonious and at times chaotic tandem. Every so often he saw stray animals run about. After some time he started to see schoolchildren, some about his age, run to school with their friends, adults dressed in suits on their way to work.

Until, Ludwig started to feel the air change.

It felt somewhat... sticky? The breeze seemed stronger. And inexplicably salty.

For he had reached the city harbor. Birds, they were called seagulls he believed, cawed above. Fishermen had far since left the dock, and in the distance, trade ships were being loaded to go who knows where. And they were floating on a vast, open field of water, water, nothing but water.

“Lutz... is this...”

<The ocean? What, you don’t even know what the ocean is?>

He had heard his mother’s stories about the ocean; while she had never been a woman of the seas per se, she was in the army, not the navy after all, he had heard her describe growing up near it. It was odd thinking that she, too, had been a child once like him.

This ocean was to her like the forest was to him, quite possibly.

She had also spoken about a rumor; a rumor that a wish put into a bottle and cast into the sea would, eventually, be granted. She had dismissed it as childish of course. And she did say that she much preferred the land after growing up.

Though according to Onkel Arendt, she would at times, despite this, just go to her childhood home, staring out into the eternal ocean.  

He wondered what she had thought as her red eyes stared out into the distant horizon, the salty breeze flowing through her silver-white hair. 

It was strange, imagining his mother like that. The sea was so free, almost careless; the complete opposite of her. But maybe that was exactly what drew her to it.

Ludwig started running along the dock, letting Lutz chase him, the briny wind rushing past him and through his hair. People had started to come to swim, and the city was starting to fully come to life.

Even if life was hard, at least he had some way of entertaining himself when everything was so brand new.

--------------

One day, a duo of teenagers spotted Ludwig.

And being the thugs they were, Ludwig suddenly found himself in confrontation with two kids much larger, older, and stronger than he; even if Ludwig was tougher than most 11-year-olds, these two seemed to be about 14 at least, if not, and probably, 15.

“Hey street rat, where’s your mutti?!”

Ludwig tried not to pay them any heed, even if he bristled at the rude words.

“...What business do you have with me?”

The shorter one grabbed him by the collar.

“I asked you a question, shorty!”

After the initial shock and fear, Ludwig felt a flash of anger. His fists clenched as he tried to struggle his way out. And worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything.

<Kid. Listen.>

“What?!”

<Listen to me. Tell me to “Intimidate”. Now. Don’t ask questions.>

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

Ludwig stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just witnessed, as the teenagers ran away, screaming “DEMON eagle! DEMON eagle!”.

And there Lutz was, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened.

————

A week passed; Ludwig counted, as he always valued timekeeping, no matter what. The other street children left him alone, eyeing him strangely. Occasionally, he heard extortionists threatening some unfortunate soul.

That was when, however, Lutz told him something vital.

<Hey. Have you ever considered asking the police if you have any relatives?>

Ludwig looked at the eagle, puzzled.

“What?”

Lutz pointed at a building.

<There. It says “POLIZEI”. Can’t you read?>

“...Why? Won’t they throw me in jail or something?”

<Actually they have records too. They might have your mother’s family on file.>

Lutz looked up to see Ludwig’s dumbfounded face staring back at him.

“...Why didn’t you tell me that, you mutt?!”

<Thought it would be interesting to observe you. Also don’t be too loud. Everyone will think you’re a crazy person.

Ludwig took a look around, and indeed there were some passerbys staring at him.

Ludwig loudly sighed, his palm on his face.

“...Fine. Thanks anyway.”

--------------------------

“Your name?”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

The officers looked at him for a few seconds.

“...As in Julia Beilshmidt? General Julia Beilshmidt?”

“Jawohl.”

They were in shock.

“...Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

“Erm… We apologize. Ja.”

“Do I have any relatives? I need some place to stay.”

“...Ja. We will search immediately. Please wait here. But it may take a while.”

————-

“Hallo? Is this the police? Why must you be calling?”

“Well, you see, sir… It appears that a relative of yours has suddenly shown up out of nowhere. ...He claims to be Beilshmidt’s son.”

“...Mein Gott. Julchen did say she had a son… I knew she wasn’t the type who should be able to take care of a child. I will be there as soon as I can.”

-------------

<This is boring.>

“I know, Lutz. Shut up.”

Lutz yawned.

“He should be here soon-”

It was then that the door to the police station opened with just enough force to be noticeable without slamming.

Standing there was a dark brown-haired gentleman with a large, curly cowlick, probably in his thirties, most likely affluent from his clothing.

“Excuse me, I hear there was someone waiting for me here?”

Ludwig stood up, and their eyes met.

“Hallo. ...You are Ludwig?”

He adjusted his glasses, then his tie.

“Ja?”

He looked him over.

“Ah, I can see some of the resemblance. Though you’re actually somewhat adorable, unlike her.”

“...Is that an insult against her?”

Realizing his mistake, the man cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry.”

He outstretched his hand.

“I am Herr Roderich Edelmann. Your mother’s cousin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, but it is nice being able to see you with my own two eyes.”

Ludwig took the hand, shaking it.

“Ludwig Beilshmidt. Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Then, suddenly, Roderich’s formal facade dropped and he pulled the boy into a hug.

“You’re so precious! You may call me Onkel Roderich! Don’t worry, we will take great care of you!”

Lutz looked on in amusement as Ludwig’s cries of shock became muffled in the man’s chest.

Ludwig was flabbergasted. It had been so long since he had been hugged. He only could relive them in his memories, and they weren’t frequent, but here he was, feeling it yet again, surrounded by warmth; he didn’t know how to process it.

But if there was one emotion he was certain about as the man smoothed his hair and cooed over him, it was that he felt loved.

————-

Ludwig held on tightly as the automobile rocked around them. Roderich didn’t seem to mind it whatsoever, but Ludwig had only heard of an automobile once, and had seen, much less ridden, none. Roderich was happy to make him comfortable next to him though, warning him whenever a bump or “pothole” was coming up.

“I forgot to ask… what is that eagle doing with you? A purebred Fenrir no less?”

Lutz was lazily sprawled out in the back seat behind them, his ears pricking somewhat at the mention of him.

“Oh, that’s Lutz.”

“...Lutz? As in…”

“Jawohl.”

Roderich looked puzzled.

“Erm… Mutter named him.”

Roderich huffed.

“Ah, Julchen, of course…”

“He was my last Sancbruma present from her before she died.”

Roderich quieted for a few seconds.

“Oh… I see. We will accommodate him too. Do not worry. ...Also, no need to ‘jawohl’ around me.”

“Jawo… ja.”

—————

Onkel Roderich was a renowned musician; he was a master of many instruments and even knew how to compose, but his main forte was the piano. He was sought after for his talents across the land.  

And he had the house to show it as well.

“Welcome to your new home, Ludwig.”

Ludwig took it all in; the house was already larger than average compared to others in town, and as a boy who had grown up in a small log cabin all his life, it seemed especially enormous.

A woman with long, light brown hair came up to them, looking from Roderich to Ludwig.

“Ah, Erzsébet! This is my nephew, Ludwig. He will be staying with us from now on.”

Roderich bent his knees so he was at Ludwig’s level.

“Ludwig, this is Erzsébet, my wife.”

“H… hallo. Nice to meet you, Tante Erzsébet.”

Ludwig outstretched his hand.

The woman merely eyed him for a few seconds.

“Hallo. I guess.”

She said, gruffly, with a distinctly foreign accent.

Roderich sighed.

“Erzsébet, why do you have to be like this?”

“Why do we have to take in this ratty-looking kid?”

Ludwig scowled.

“Hey!”

Roderich held Ludwig closer, glaring at her.

“Erzsébet! He’s a child! Have you no heart?!”

“Fine, fine.”

She shook his hand, roughly.

“But the eagle is cute though. And wow, a Fenrir?! Hallo, come here!”

Lutz merely yawned.

Ludwig couldn’t help but snicker as an unamused frown crept across Erzsébet’s face.

“...Whatever. Make yourself at home I guess.”

She walked off.

“Prepare the bath and extra room for the boy! Come on now!”

Roderich commanded, and soon after servants bowed and quickly ran upstairs in single file.

“Don’t mind my wife. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to hear from you. But she will warm up to you eventually. Though… you are in need of new clothes, aren’t you?”

He gave the boy a once-over, making Ludwig look down to his old, beaten-up and washed out child-sized military uniform.

“Sadly, we do not have any clothes your size as of now. I will have a servant hire the tailor immediately. Meanwhile I will order them to wash what you have now.”

<He’s awfully happy to see you, isn’t he?>

“Ja… he seems like a nice person.”

————

That might, Ludwig had the best dinner he had ever had.

He could only marvel at the dishes in front of him; even those he had heard of before looked so refined. And there was so much of it! The variety of bread available was amazing.

But he couldn’t let himself forget his discipline. Even if it took all his willpower not to start gorging himself on everything like he had been possessed by some demon of gluttony.

“Onkel, what is this?”

“A chocolate torte, you see. A type of cake.”

Ludwig remembered actually having a cake a grand total of once. He still remembered its sweetness so well and it was probably the best thing he ever had eaten. And then there were two other things he had only read about before.

...And Lutz seemed unusually interested in it.

He couldn’t blame him though, it’s aroma was mesmerizing to Ludwig’s senses.

“Chocolate? Is that what the brown is?”

“You have never had chocolate before?! Mein Gott, Julchen, What have you done?”

Ludwig was quick to take a bite, and he froze.

The mellow, deep sweetness melted on his tongue, spreading throughout his mouth in such an indescribably perfect way, a tinge of bitterness within that instead of detracting from the experience, somehow harmonized with the sweetness in such a heavenly way.

“...Ludwig?”

“...It’s amazing.”

Roderich seemed somewhat amused by how floored the boy was.

“Even your mother was quite a fan.”

<Hey, hey. Kid.>

Ludwig was surprised by the unusual agitation in Lutz’s thoughts. He didn’t think he had ever heard anything like it before.

“Lutz? What is-“

<I need it. Now. Don’t ask questions!>

Ludwig almost panicked, giving a piece to the impatient eagle.

“Ludwig!”

“I… erm… It was unfair to have it to myself!”

“...Wasn’t chocolate poisonous to eagles?”

Erzsébet questioned.

“Wait wha-“

<Don’t worry. ... Ahh, bliss...>

Ludwig smiled nervously.

“He’ll be fine.”

The couple just stared, confused.

“Erm…”

“Trust me! I know him well. ...Can I have more? Please?”

“Absolutely.”

His face absolutely lit up at that, and in the corner of his vision Ludwig saw quite possibly the most genuine expression of joy he had seen from Lutz in all the time he knew him.

“Why’s it that everyone in your family loves chocolate so much?”

Erzsébet asked as her husband took another piece.

“Why don’t you is the better question.”

“...Actually, yup, you two definitely are related. Leave some for me though!”

————

Roderich doted on the boy; he made sure he had the nicest clothes and the nicest food that he could afford.

He had made sure the room was in absolute best condition, that his pillows were always fluffed and bed always made, even if Ludwig insisted he wanted to do it on his own.

He taught him everything about the basics of civilization, how to read more complex sentences, how to play the piano and the violin, even how to dance. He took him with him to work, across the city and sometimes even country to places he had at best read about and to meet so many new people.

His next Sanctbruma and 12th birthday were the most extravagant he had ever had.

Yet…

Yet something was missing.

Despite the man’s kindness, he felt something wasn’t right. Ludwig couldn’t put a finger on what, and he felt awful about it to be sure; he did so much for him, what more could a boy ask for?

But yet…

Sure, Erzsébet never completely warmed up to him; even if she wasn’t as cold to him, according to Lutz she was merely tolerating him. And the same was true for many of the servants.

But that didn’t change the fact that Roderich himself was nothing but loving towards him. Even if he had curfews and other such rules, he never had trouble with rules. His mother raised him to obey rules. And while he was often busy, he still tried his best to spend time with him.

Finally, he actually had someone who resembled a parent after all those years. He should have been thankful.

But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Someone had to be doing something wrong.

At times, he still lay awake at night, those lonely days and nights and that fateful Sanctbruma playing back in his mind; as well as the accompanying emotions of pure hatred and wrath.

Once, Roderich has entered the room at an inopportune time to Ludwig curled up in his bed, seething, growling at him to leave him alone.

While he didn’t say anything about it at dinner, it was obvious he was disturbed by it.

“...Lutz. Why can’t I be happy? I still feel alone, but I don’t even know why.”

<Maybe you’ve been alone for too long. You’re past the point of return, kid. Maybe you should come to peace with it.>

“At least I have you.”

<Whatever.>

———

“Ludwig.”

“Ja, Onkel Roderich?”

The man sighed.

“It has been over a year since you started living with us. What is it with your standoffish behavior? Is something wrong? I will listen to it.”

“...I just can’t, Onkel.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why.”

The man looked so disappointed.

“I try my best to make you happy, Ludwig. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to satisfy your needs.”

“Nein. It isn’t that.”

Roderich shook his head.

“As I was saying… the chords for this piece are…”

—————

Ludwig continued to do his practice drills whenever possible, even if they had taken a different shape; makeshift targets became proper shooting galleries, improvised exercises became possible using an open space between buildings and proper equipment. And as he grew more and more by the day, his physical abilities took leaps and bounds above what he had been capable of before. He just wished he could go more than weekly. At first, Roderich objected, but it didn’t take long for him to cave in.

After all, he had to keep himself in shape, especially as he now had access to all the candy and chocolate that could be plausibly afforded.

After a while, Roderich started to continuously try to ask him to consider other options in this weekly time slot. He was never too forceful, however. And after a while, as Ludwig expressed his clear annoyance, it finally ceased just as it had begun.

There was another episode that irked Ludwig.

One night, as he went to get a glass of water, he had seen Roderich, seemingly sneaking away from his room.

“...Onkel?”

The man bristled as soon as he turned on the lights.

“Erm… Ludwig, I didn’t expect you to be awake..

Then, Ludwig saw it.

In his hands was his mother’s necklace.

“...What are you doing with Mutter’s necklace?”

He immediately stuffed it inside his pocket and turned around, a fake smile on his face.

“What necklace, my dear Ludwig?”

“I know you’re hiding it.”

The man sighed, taking it back out again.

“I… I wanted to put it in a place it will be safer in.”

Ludwig tried not to grill him further, even as he felt something fueled by doubt start to boil within him.

“I’m sure it will be safe with me. It’s been so for all the years I’ve had it. Can I have it back now?”

“...Ja.”

Ludwig swiftly took it back, going down to get his glass. He really needed one.

“You could tell a servant to get it for you?”

“No. I prefer to do it on my own.”

When Ludwig had returned to his room, he had quite the things to say to Lutz.

“Lutz. Why did you let him take it?”

<I was sleepy, kid. Why do you care about that thing so much?>

“It’s from Mutter. You should know. ...Lutz. If anything, protect this with your life.”

<Oh come on now.>

“I’m serious. It’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

<What do you want from me? Good night.>

——————

One day, as Ludwig overheard some servants speaking to each other in hushed voices, glancing at him every so often.

He was able to catch two things; “Miss Erzsébet” and “barren”.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But for whatever reason he didn’t like the sound of it.

That night, after some shouting, once again Roderich stormed out of the master bedroom, telling Erzsébet to “Get a hold of yourself already, you indecipherable woman!”, to his own separate room, as Erzsébet shouted some words back that sounded really angry and probably inappropriate.

<There goes the lovely couple.>

Lutz thought, as Ludwig tried to sleep. Lutz, meanwhile, had no trouble.

————

13-year-old Ludwig stood outside of the bar, alongside Lutz, as always, and other members of his gang.

It was in a seedy, rough part of town. And it was where their rival gang frequented most often.

It wasn’t the most well-to-do of bars, to say the least; as soon as they entered, the air smelt pungently of alcohol, and ambiently of various nasties.

<Ergh. Try coming here as a eagle.>

They immediately saw their target; the offending gang’s leader.

Their leader went up to confront her rival, fists clearly ready to fly.

“Hey! We know ya killed him!”

“Who?”

The rival boss said, with a cheeky grin.

“Ya know who!”

The two continued to escalate their argument, until they became close to blows.

“Enough yammerin’! Get ‘em, boys n’ girls!”

Suddenly, they were grabbed by the rival gang bangers, including Ludwig, who held back a yelp.

“We didn’t kill one of yer ratpack, asshole! Now get out or we’re gonna force ya out!”

“...You better tell us.”

Ludwig said, tersely, utilizing his now lowering voice and copying his mother’s tone.

The rival boss laughed.

“Or what, kid? What are ya gonna do, huh? Man your recruiting standards have gone down!”

His boss smirked.

“Ya better listen to the kid.”

“Or what?”

They laughed uproariously.

“Lutz. Restrain.”

Their laughing instantly stopped, their faces going sheet white, all the other bar patrons, the bartender, and staff turning to gawk.

For they bore witness to the gang boss being pinned down, on the floor, between the claws of a giant, terrifying hellhound, its eyes glowing, its fangs bared, its breath in the unfortunate gangster’s terrified face.

Ludwig walked up to the rival boss with measured steps, the gangsters holding him having let go out of sheer terror, the thumping of his feet the only sounds other than his companion’s breathing and the squeaks and sputtering from bystanders and rival gangsters, and pulled out his old pistol, aiming it at the thug’s head, glaring daggers so sharp that they could gouge eyes out.

Show your enemy no mercy.

Once again, he thought he felt his mother voice in his ear.

“Tell us the truth.”

The rival boss sputtered, shaking like a leaf, looking awfully smaller than the much younger boy.

“We… we… d-d-di…”

Ludwig cocked his pistol.

“Speak in a real language!”

The rival boss flinched, and the rest of the rival gang huddled, terrified.

“W-we didn’t do anything! I-I swear! I swear!”

Ludwig lowered his pistol slightly.

“...Really?”

“J-ja! I swear! I swear by both the Heavenly and Hellish Yards! P-p-please let me go, Sir!”

“...Alright. Lutz, release.”

The eagle shrank back down to size, returning to his original, fluffy, cute self.

His boss grumbled.

“Whoop. That was pointless. Lud, let’s get outta this dump.”

They turned to leave, the other people in the bar still staring at them.

“W-Wait.”

Ludwig and his boss turned back to the humiliated rival boss.

“We might’ve not killed ‘im. But I-I have a good idea who might’ve.”

———-

“So, Lud. Good job today. We’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“Jawohl.”

Their boss patted Ludwig on the head and gave the group a once-over.

“Ok. You’re all dismissed.”

Ludwig was quick to leave, the others staring after him.

“What’s it with him? I swear, it’s like he doesn’t wanna be associated with us.”

“He said something about a curfew.”

“Really? Kid still follows curfews? What is he, 10?”

-----------------

When Ludwig came back, Roderich was waiting for him.

“Ludwig.”

“Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich’s expression was serious and stern.

“...What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean, Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich held Ludwig’s shoulders.

“Let me state this plainly.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’re involved in gang activity, aren’t you?”

Ludwig was in shock.

“How…”

Roderich shook his head, his hand on his forehead.

“Ludwig. I am sure even Julchen taught you to obey rules.”

“I… I don’t want to depend on you for everything. I feel like a leech.”

Roderich was shocked.

“You’re only 13, Ludwig! It is alright! It isn’t worth putting yourself at risk like this!”

“I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Roderich shook his head.

“Don’t say that. You could deliver newspapers, or use those piano skills I taught you-“

“And they’re my friends.”

“Friends?! I care for you, why do you need them?! Do you even know any of their names?!”

“...”

“You’re going to get into trouble eventually, young man.”

“I… I know!”

Roderich flinched.

Ludwig looked down and stormed back into the house, Lutz running behind him, into his room, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Hmph, teenagers...”

Erzsébet mumbled.

—————-

“Ludwig?”

Roderich opened the door to Ludwig’s room that night, peeking in.

Ludwig couldn’t bare to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry.”

Roderich sighed.

“Is it because I’m not Julchen?”

The boy felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I’m thankful for what you’ve done, and-”

“I see. Just try to forget about her, alright?”

Ludwig froze. He felt like someone had stabbed his heart.

“But…”

“I do so much for you. I give you everything. What was it that she had that I don’t? I’ve been a far better parent than that stone-hearted, cruel, cold-”

<Oh no. You’ve done it now.>

“DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT MY MUTTER!”

His voice cracked terribly, but he didn’t care.

Roderich stumbled back, his face pale, horrified.

Silence.

“Ludwig… I’m sorry.”

Ludwig buried his face into his pillows.

“...I’ll tell the servants to bring you dinner. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Leave me alone!”

“...I’m happy with any path you want to take. Just please stay safe.”

Roderich sighed and closed the door.

From that day on, Roderich started informing Ludwig of where police may find him, and locations of stations across the city. Anything for his safety, he had said.

But from that day on Ludwig knew; he knew that his suspicions were true, that all this time he was trying to make him forget about his mother. He couldn’t let that happen. It was only confirmation when he heard him brutally disparage her one night in a drunken stupor during one of his binge-drinking sessions.

Once again, Ludwig could trust no one.

And once again, wrath simmered within him.

----------------

Their boss summoned Ludwig and the rest of the gang to a gathering; to sort out their clues, they had said.

Ludwig was appreciated for his abilities; but outside of the action, he sat somewhat removed from the rest. He couldn’t connect with them much either.

His mother had despised lawbreakers; “scum”, “rats”, she would call them. If she knew what he was doing now, she would have caned his palms until they were raw and bleeding. She would have told him he was better than this. He never would have imagined he could stoop this low too. After all, he was his mother’s only son. He should have been destined for greatness.

Quite honestly, he didn’t fully understand what he was doing here either. How did he even get here? Was it just a business affair? Were they really his friends? 

Maybe it was because this was the closest thing to military service he could find. Even if it were on the other side of the law.

A girl a year or so older than him, the second youngest in the gang, came up to him attempting to speak to him. Ludwig hesitated, but in the end continued to be fascinated with the clues they had and Lutz.

“Hey give up on Herr Stick-In-The-Mud already! Bet he’s never even kissed a girl!”

A gangster said, using the nickname they often used when ribbing him.

“What’s with him? He to good for us?” One of them muttered when Ludwig refused a drink.  

“Ja. Imagine being one of us and caring about drinking ages. Never can understand Herr Stick-In-The-Mud.”

“Ja. Where was he raised, His Majesty’s Elite Imperial Barracks?”

“Hey, hey, did you hear that Boss might have the hots for him too?”

“Why don’t you fuckwits shut the fuck up?” Their boss barked at the last one. “The kid’s basically an infant!”

<You’re the most rule-bound gangster I’ve ever seen.>

“Why do they treat it as a bad thing?”

<You’re the one who joined a street gang, genius. They’ve got different rules.>

Ludwig looked at the bottle of cheap moonshine he had been offered again, sighed, and took a gulp.

He immediately gagged.

The last time he’d had booze was when Roderich had allowed him to try beer, and even then he had basically diluted half of it with water and it definitely didn’t taste like... whatever this bottle of horse urine was.

“Ack! This is awful! ...I did it, are you happy now?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Doesn’t count! He gagged!”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“Let’s get back on topic. We are discussing the murder of a fellow comrade. This is no time for inane chatter.”

Finally, the air became solemn.

“Ja, reasonable, I guess…”

“Now, onto the information Scout 2 gathered...”

—————-

Ludwig, more than anything, considered himself a logical person.

He and his mother both despised vagueness. It seemed pointless, really, all the dancing around the true meaning of your words in the name of “politeness”. While apparently many in this part of the continent were considered similarly blunt and practical, it seemed even then he was exceptional.

So his own emotional turmoil, how he could never seem to explain himself, frustrated him more than anyone else. It angered him.

But one thing he knew for sure was that he looked forward to stopping by the library on the way home. Thank goodness Roderich had taught him to read to a level more appropriate for his age; it was difficult at first, but he was also fortunately a fast learner.

He always had taken a fascination with the sciences. They were at first glance unpredictable, but once broken down and observed, logical. They made sense, they were rational. Recently, he started finding them more investing than fiction, in fact. And his new reading skills finally made the higher levels of it beyond simplistic drawings attempting to explain the laws of physics and magic accessible.

Which was why today he sat outside the library in his usual spot, looking through a medical encyclopedia, munching on one of many bars of dark chocolate and a small loaf of bread.

Lutz licked up pieces of chocolate Ludwig had given him, peeking from under him.

“HERS?”

<Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome.>

Ludwig looked to Lutz in shock.

<A rare genetic, psychiatric disorder with no known cause. Those afflicted by Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome, a Hereditary Evil Raiser, or HER, is said to be at their core an incarnation of malice, "programmed" to destroy the gods, everything they created and everything related to them. Therefore, as a natural prerequisite, they typically show extreme cruelty and having the compulsion to increase their own kind and ensure the continuation of their "mission" to spread malice by any means necessary, taking immense pleasure in doing so. Currently there is no known cure, though in high-functioning individuals it may be managed, and manifest in lesser ways.>

“How…”

<I have my ways.>

“Though… Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome? Who names this stuff?”

<Hey. They probably had their reasons.>

“Why do you care? Did you come up with it?”

<Maybe. Plus, that’s rich coming from the kid who literally named me “Blackie”.>

Ludwig sighed.

“I... Fine. And wait... are you reading with me?”

<Yeah, I can read. I never told you?>

Ludwig continue to stare at him.

“I... I just didn’t think you would...”

<Turn the page already. I already know this.>

"Maybe you could try reading a novel, Lutz?”

<Don’t care. Why should I care about what you flesh-apes think, much less fake ones? No one in the world knows what I’m thinking anyway.>

Ludwig closed the encyclopedia.

“You mean you feel that no one understands you, right?”

Lutz looked up, his ears erect.

His words struck him like a spark of lightning.

“That makes two of us”

An awkward few moments passed. For once in his life, Lutz had nothing to retort back.

Why was he so shocked?

Ludwig blinked, confused.

“Lutz? What’s wrong?”

<...Nothing.>

Lutz didn’t know what he had just felt.

“That makes two of us” 

It should have meant nothing, coming from this brat.

But yet...

Whatever. It probably still meant nothing.

-------------------------

“We’ve got our guy! Rich bastard’s not gonna know what hit ‘im.”

Their boss said, confidently, gesturing to an assassin she had bought into their abandoned factory hideout.

The assassin looked across the crowd of gangsters.

“So. Which one of you brats wants to come?”

“Actually, we’ve got a good clue already for who’s gonna be a good fit for this mission.”

Ludwig waited, anxiously. He would gladly take the job of avenging his fallen comrade, of course.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig stood to attention.

“...You’ll be providing nice clothes for us to blend in!”

Ludwig was speechless.

“How… Why?”

<Turns out you aren’t as tough as you thought. Better luck next time, kid.>

But when all had left, he went up to his boss. He needed answers.

“Why am I excluded?”

She looked at him as if he was stupid.

“I don’t think ‘Giant Enemy eagle’ is a viable weapon to use on a cruise ship.”

“But… I can shoot well too! You said I was a great marksman!”

“You’re good. Gotta say that. Still, don’t know about your skills in stealth yet. Can’t risk it. Now, see ya.”

Then, she abruptly cut him off and left.

-----------------

Three days later, Ludwig and the rest of the gang not chosen for the plot awaited at the dock.

Soon, they spotted the assassination party, coming towards them.

One person was clearly missing.

“Hey! Boss! ...Boss? And where’s...”

Her face was dire.

“Shot dead. ...He spotted us.”

“He saw all our faces. All of you are fucked. We’re all fucked.”

More silence.

“...WHAT?!”

Silence immediately gave way to panic.

Ludwig stood, frozen.

“How… Why…”

He clutched his head, overwhelmed.

“But it can’t…”

Emotions swirled inside the boy, overpowering all of his senses, all of his thoughts.

What was going to happen to him? His friends?

“No, no, no, nonononononono…”

<You know what to do, kid.>

Suddenly, he bolted.

Along the harbor, he ran.

Then, in a burst of emotion and without much thought, as if on instinct, he acted immediately as Lutz took a running leap into the sea.

“SIC ‘EM, LUTZ!”

He didn’t even bother with the telepathy.

Everyone could only look on in shock and horror as Lutz became an utter behemoth of a beast, seemingly not completely solid and with a godlike glow, his tail alone twice the size of the ship; to those who were watching from afar, it would have looked as if a demon eagle had risen out of the sea itself.

The ship was no match for the beast. Before anyone could fully comprehend what was going on, the ship had been sunk, every single person on it with it.

----------------

Ludwig walked back to the gang, who all stood staring at him, utterly horrified.

Finally, someone broke the silence.

“...Holy shit.”

Another turned to him, their eyes wide.

“...Lud? Did you just…”.

The boy’s mind was blank. What could he even say?

He had killed all of them. Every single one of them.

But in the end...

“Mission accomplished…?”

“Am I trippin’?”

“Did we just witness a massacre?”

“...What the fuck?”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“But we accomplished our mission. ...I did what I had to do.”

“Ja, but… Holy shit.”

“In anyway…”

Their boss cleared her throat.

“Let’s… Let’s go with this loot before the cops find out.”

The rest could only muster a “Ja” in unison.

Lutz trotted up to Ludwig, as unbothered as always.

“Lutz…”

<Just did as I was told. Don’t complain to me. Here.>

In the eagle’s jaws was a doll; an eerily faceless, unusual, porcelain-ish doll of indeterminable gender.

<Here. I brought a present.>

“What is…”

<Have it. Since I can’t give you Sancbruma presents, here it is, months early.>

“It’s… it’s probably from a dead child, Lutz!”

<Don’t be ungrateful. Oh, and your buddies are waiting. You should go.>

“...Ja. I did what I had to do. We killed him. That’s all that should matter…”

————-

The news of the shipwreck was all over the radio. They had listened to it in their hideout, huddled around the device.

“The perpetrator is currently unknown. However, many claim to have heard the voice of a boy or young man scream for the eagle to attack…”

————-

When Ludwig came home, Roderich was standing in front of the door, in shock.

“Ludwig…”

“Onkel?”

“...It was you wasn’t it?”

Ludwig looked down to his feet.

“Lutz, specifically…”

<Hey.>

Roderich pulled him into a protective embrace.

“You could have put yourself in so much danger! What if the police find out about you?! Don’t you dare do that again.”

"...”

Roderich pulled him in.

“Now, come in before someone recognizes you.”

—————

Roderich rarely ever let him join the rest of the gang since that day; it was too dangerous, he had said.

He went out in mostly in a dark hood for a disguise, at times without Lutz, for over the radio, one expert had identified the beast as “a black Fenrir transformed with powerful magic.”

Later that year, a month before Sancbruma and two months before his 14th birthday, he had heard something unusual.

<Ludwig… Ludwig…>

“Huh?”

Telepathy. But Lutz wasn’t with him; it came from the doll in his bag.

Ever since that fateful day, Lutz had told him to carry it for some vague reason he couldn’t understand; his alleged simple explanation was “It’s amusing to see you carry around a girly doll like that.”

<Ludwig...>

He took the bag off his back and looked in. 

<Someone is after you. You have been found out. You must run.>

“What?! How do you…”

<Do not ask. Please, please run… you must.>

He slung it back over his shoulder.

“Lutz!”

He had to get Lutz. Now.

But by the time he had gotten home, it was too late.

“No, Sir, he is not here. You will not find him here…”

“There he is!”

Two figures stood with Roderich; two figures he didn’t recognize.

A tanned, sturdy-looking man in a black suit, probably from the south of the continent, turned his attention away from Roderich, and pointed at Ludwig, gun in hand.

“Ludwig Beildshmidt! You are under arrest!”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. Emotions and stress once again blitzed through him.

“Lutz! Restrain! ...Lutz? Lutz?!”

His eyes darted next to the man to the other figure, what Ludwig thought to be a long-haired, somewhat tall foreign woman in eastern attire, her dark, raven hair pulled back into a ponytail; seemingly holding Lutz back without touching the eagle, but clearly struggling.

“Hurry!”

She shouted, in a foreign accent Ludwig didn’t recognize.

Ludwig bolted.

“Don’t you dare, you-“

“Herr Edelmann! Stop, or you will be arrested as well for interfering with police procedure!”

“Don’t touch him!”

The mysterious man finally shoved the weaker-looking man off him and gave chase, but Roderich grappling with him had given him some extra time...

“Ludwig! RUN! RUN!”

But before Ludwig could escape, all of a sudden he was blindsided by a third person, jumping on his back and pinning him down, the boy’s small body no match for the adult.

“LUDWIG!”

“Let me go, LET ME GO!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying before he had been slammed on the back of the head.

Ludwig blacked out.

To be continued in part 2...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author’s notes:

So I had to split this thing in half since it became much longer than I expected. Wow this is a monster. You will see the parts listed here after I write them. Parts, because this will have two different routes! Hopefully! Then again it seems like no one read this...

Also, the scene with the sea is even more ambiguous “canon” in this already ambiguously “canon” story, but I wanted to write it in because I liked it, having seen the idea that Prussia has some kind of connection to the sea before and liking it. I wish I could find it now. I think Alt-Prussia would have grown up with the sea when he was younger, and while he would stay very strictly a land fighter (in fact the Prussian navy was never all that good, being mostly a merchant fleet. Even the German navy, while it did go through a growth period in the 1880s in competition with Britain I believe, by WWII at least their Kriegsmarine kind of sucked. It’s why the invasion of Britain never happened, their navy would have been laughably curbstomped), and I still associate England, Netherlands, or Portugal way more with the ocean, maybe the North Sea has some kind of soothing effect on him.

Also adorable child!Germany is adorable. Why do I love this kid so much? Why is he so damn cute?!

[squidproquoclarice]

what are your thoughts on arthur and dutch’s relationship... and why arthur went back to tell dutch about micah, even after dutch had abandoned him and manipulated him to no end? if you can’t tell i find the last part especially upsetting lol, since it was pretty much the final nail in arthur’s coffin.

Hoooboah.  Another thorny topic here!

It’s a complicated relationship on both parts.  There’s mingled affection and affirmation and abuse (which is…not uncommon in abusive relationships).  For Dutch’s part, I believe he’s a narcissist.  He’s certainly capable of pride and affection, but I’m not sure he’s capable of love, in the sense of self-sacrifice and putting others’ happiness and security above his own.  Dutch is charismatic AF, talks a good game, and he has some good points.  Victorian society was unquestionably sick and all about the haves and have-nots.  But he doesn’t combat social ills directly.  He goes out and robs a bank, and at this point, he does nothing with the proceeds to help better anyone’s life.  He’s anti for the sake of being against a demonized them, not anti due to determination to help actual victims of a fucked up system.

He’s a man who likes to present himself as intelligent and well read, but reads selectively only the things that support his philosophies.  He’s a man who likes pretty young women who worship him, and when they get older and/or wiser, he trades them in for a newer model.  He’s a man who picks up orphans and the lost and disaffected, gives them a family, and that’s both admirable and sinister given that he’s effectively targeting the most vulnerable, and expecting their unquestioningly personal loyal as their savior, rather than simply doing it out of kindness.  It becomes predatory, not charitable.This is all standard cult leader playbook material.  Dutch is the godhead of an anarchosocialist cult that increasingly turns into a violent death cult, as these cults tend to do when the pressure becomes relentless.Arthur is a child who grew up with a mother who died young, and an abusive and criminal father.  So violence and crime are all he’s known.  He lived on the streets for several years, probably having to become increasingly hard and rough to survive, and then Dutch and Hosea took him in.  Fed him.  Sheltered him.  Taught him to read.  He knows the way he was going, he’d have become nothing more than a mean half-feral bastard until he finally got shot or hanged.  So of course he’s grateful.  Of course he wants to do nothing more than please this man who thought his life was worth something, when everyone in the city he was in (San Francisco for me) made it clear he was worthless to them.  He became the strong right arm, the enforcer.  I think it’s interesting to note that it’s clear that’s all Dutch wants him to be, berating him to be a “man of action”, getting pissed off when Arthur questions him, and accomplishing the neat trick of making him feel special by drawing him into his confidence on some things, while still rarely involving him in the planning in a meaningful way.  Constantly demanding he affirm his absolute loyalty.  Dutch wants an unquestioning brute on command.  Arthur obliges, because that’s what Dutch needs him to be, and doesn’t he owe Dutch everything?Hosea, in contrast, wants him to be more.  He may sometimes tease Arthur as big and dumb, but it’s in that friendly paternal way.  When he’s serious, he’s calling his “angry moron” act out for what it is, urging Arthur to think for himself, and never condescending to his intelligence.  He knows the man is bright, but too trusting and too loyal, and he’s urging him to open his eyes.  And it’s a damn shame Arthur has so little experience of healthy relationships to see that Hosea genuinely loved him, but it was instead Dutch’s approval he felt he had to win.  Dutch, who had affection for him as a proud reflection of himself as a leader and mentor, as a useful tool, but never truly as a person with his own thoughts and feelings and ideas.So you have an abused and angry child, grown up into a deeply anxious man who bases his whole sense of self-worth on what use he can be to his savior.  His lack of self-esteem is in big part because he’s never learned that love is about acceptance, not a prize that’s offered and withdrawn constantly.  So he’s constantly having to worry “Am I good enough for Dutch?”  You have a skilled narcissist using alternating offering criticism and the deep fear of rejection and abandonment, and love in the form of praise, singling him out, and validation, to keep Arthur on the hook.  Bringing in rivals, like John, to keep him insecure.  Gaslighting him by making him feel like his doubts or questions are a personal attack. Keeping him striving to be the best man of the bunch and to prove himself, over and over and over again, because Dutch’s “love” never just is.  It’s so very conditional, and he makes damn sure Arthur knows it.  It’s a hugely effectively control tactic.As to why he went back, twenty-two years of cult programming is not easy to shake.  I imagine he hoped he could get through to Dutch somehow, that knowing the truth of Micah’s betrayal, Dutch would of course do the right thing.  Because Dutch won’t stand for betrayal, right?  If he can count on one thing, it’s that loyalty matters most to him.  Not to mention our boah is too trusting, cynical as he likes to pretend he is, and I think there was some part of him wanting desperately to believe that Dutch isn’t as bad as he’s now fearing. He’s just misguided by Micah, but not truly lost.  Alongside that, this is a man who still places zero value on his own life.  He’s got an illness with poor odds for long-term survival, unless he literally can go on nearly round-the-clock bed rest for several months to give the TB lung lesions a chance to heal, and take likely well over a year to get back to as close to normal as a man with some lung scarring will get.  He can’t do that without someone to care for him, and who the hell is going to do that for him?  He can’t run and hide easily given the price on his head anyway.  And what will he do, even if he lives?  Fighting and robbing and shooting is about all he’s ever known.  He’s probably terrified at the idea of his likely future, sick and alone and without anything that makes sense.  Better to go do something right, and die in doing it.  Confront Dutch and make him see reason, or if he can’t, just damn well kill Micah.  I absolutely believe he intended that as a suicide mission however it turned out, because he thinks it’s better this way.

[mz-hide]

Trick Of Might - Chapter 3

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z slash fic.

Chapter 3

The Prince takes a walk down memory lane and Turles has to put some pants on.

Summary: An ancient enemy makes a sudden comeback into Goku’s life. Long-suppressed memories surface again and it’s no longer possible for the young saiyan to ignore them. Warnings: Dubious Consent, (because of drug use) Ships & Pairings: Bulma/Vegeta, Goku/Vegeta, Goku/Turles, Goku/Turles/Vegeta, Turles/Vegeta, Raditz/Turles, Nappa/Turles, Nappa/Raditz/Turles Contains: Threesome - M/M/M, Group Sex, Polyamory, Aphrodisiacs, Secret Crush, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Biting, Scratching, Boners All Around, Feral Behavior, (just a tiny bit), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

The closer he got, the sharper the saccharine smell of flowers became. The young saiyan grimaced, uselessly trying not to be affected by the increasingly suffocating atmosphere. He landed on a sturdy root, keeping a safe distance between himself and the source of that scent, raising an arm to his face to shield his nose. Now he truly started to regret his decision of sticking around to investigate. Not that the scent was unpleasant. In fact, it wasn’t. The more he focused on how little unpleasant it was, the more he felt dizzy. It was definitely counterproductive. He had to focus on making sure his suspicions were groundless and he had to be done with it quickly. He moved from a root to the other, pricking up his ears. It was hard not to be vigilant when all around him he heard the creaking of growing wood and the rustle of hot vapor moving the fragrant foliage. That place was starting to enervate him, yet he did not cave in. His resolution and his power of will were steadfast. He had the firm intention of seeing the end of that story. Finally, after a while, his efforts were rewarded, though not in the way he would have hoped. After flying all around the trunk without finding anything, he had been on the point of giving up when a glimmer on the ground caught his attention. He turned his head towards it and saw it. “Oh no…”, he murmured, closing in quickly to verify that his eyes had not betrayed him. In front of him, half-hidden between roots and fallen leaves, was a large, metallic orb. It looked darkened by smoke and quite damaged but still unmistakable. It was a ship. “It can’t be…” “Oh, but it is.” The young warrior turned around, jumping backwards, instinctively dodging the attack that crashed on the ground exactly where he’d stood less than a second before. He raised his eyes. Upwards, between the branches, he caught sight of a dark shadow, nonchalantly leaning against the tree trunk and eying him with apparent indifference. Goku didn’t need to look twice to know who he was dealing with. “Turles!”, he exclaimed, incredulous. The renegade’s face was hidden by the shadows, but the warrior still caught the glimmer of his fangs, bared into a smug grin. “In the flesh.” Turles’ face was made visible by the light of a second attack aimed at him. This time Goku didn’t bother dodging. He merely deviated it with an arm, sending it to crash away. He ignored the smashing sound of broken wood, keeping his eyes fixed on the other warrior, without moving a muscle. The renegade appeared bored, following his failed attack with his eyes. “You don’t seem glad to see me, Kakarot. Is this the way to greet an old friend?” “My name is Goku”, he rebuked, “And you are not my friend.” “Oh, such hostility… unjustified hostility, I might add.” “In what way would it be unjustified?” “If my memory doesn’t fail me, you weren’t the one to survive death by a mere thread the last time, when the Tree of Might exploded. I was. And I would have happily down without that experience.” “Speaking of which… I was sure you had died that time. How did you make it out alive?” “Please! I’m a saiyan. It would have been ridiculous for me to die for so little, don’t you think?” With those words, he stepped forward, jumping down from the branch, shooting a rapid sequence of attacks at him. The young warrior easily avoided them once more, even the blow that came from behind him, despite his vision being compromised by the dust and debris the aggression had caused to pollute the air. The kick aimed at his head was intercepted by his wrist, the knee surging towards his stomach by the palm of his other hand. The dark saiyan urged him further, giving him no time to think and forcing him to jump backwards. Goku saw an opening and retaliated. He felt his knuckles hit the mark, hard. But his opponent didn’t seem to relent. With ever blow he took, he had twice more in store. “I have to admit, you’re quite tough. I’m not surprised I couldn’t manage to kill you the last time”, said the youth, impressed by the tenacity the renegade was showing. It was then that his opponent managed to land a kick. Goku flew backwards, landing at a distance, escaping the devastating trajectory of the blows that followed. “And I must give you credit for trying, Kakarot. You almost managed. Though, I can’t say I escaped uninjured…” When Goku raised his eyes. The dust had dissipated and he could finally see the other clearly. He couldn’t help but flinch at the sight. The face he’d seen in his dream just a few hours before was staring back at him, but It was different from what he recalled. The flicker of malice in his obsidian eyes had stayed the same, just as the cocky curve of the smirk that bent those lush, brown lips with the same confidence he remembered. Turles grinned, as if unaware of the long, pale scar that crossed his cheekbone and split the corner his lip. Another one ran along the side of his neck and downwards, disappearing below his clothes. Yet, not even that disfigurement had been able to spoil the might and pride that shined through his features. In spite of himself, Goku had to admit to himself that the scar did nothing but enhance his charm. “At a loss for words, Kakarot?”, Turles teased, hinting at his scarring. “Admiring your handiwork? Or maybe you’re thinking of a good way to apologize to me for it.” The dark saiyan had noticed the intensity of his gaze, Goku could see it in his face. The thought that the renegade could figure out what had crossed his mind irritated him. “Why should I? You should be the one to apologize for having threatened my planet and my son.” “You just can’t let that old story go, can you?” “I’ve already told you, the Earth is my home and I won’t let anyone who’s threatened my home and my family have a lucky escape.” “Is it war that you want, then?” “You and I might not share the same values but I’m still a saiyan too, remember?”, Goku replied, his body shifting into a defense stance. “If it’s a challenge you offer me, I’m certainly not to the type to back down, Turles.” A dangerous smile curved the youth’s lips, a perfect replica of the one on his opponent’s face. “Now you speak my language…” Turles crouched slowly, lowering his centre of gravity, ready to attack at any second. His eyes were steadily fixed on Goku’s, intense and magnetic. “Come on now, let me see what you’re made of!” With a scream, the two of them hurled themselves at one another, eyes flashing and fangs bared in an expression of pure, primordial joy.

  “Isn’t it too late for the runt to be out of bed?”

Thus Vegeta introduced himself, interrupting the agitated chattering between his lover and Kakarot’s son, who’d just landed in their yard. “I would’ve thought his nanny to be more diligent.”

Piccolo shot him a dirty look. Saying that the namekian had little affection for the prince was a gross simplification. Though, at least, the sentiment was reciprocated.

“Oh wow, listen to him now, being all paternal all of a sudden!”, his lover taunted him harshly, before turning her attention to the kid once more. “Just ignore him Gohan. He’s just acting cranky ‘cause he has to lend his plaything. If he behaves nicely now, he can have a new one. Now let’s go, come give me a hand, I have to set the coordinates in the computer. We’ll find your father.”

The youth shoot the older saiyan a hesitant look before following the scientist inside the ship.

“What did the idiot get himself into this time?”, Vegeta asked before the namekian could join the others. There was no need to specify which idiot. “I didn’t think you cared so much about what Goku does. What happened, are you truly jealous of your plaything that much?” “Don’t push it. The woman can afford a little sass with me but I assure you, you can’t earn my patience in the same way she does, so watch your tongue.” Vegeta usually was reserved about his private life, but the expression of slight disgust on the other’s face was worth an exception. “Now talk. What happened to Kakarot?” The namekian glared at him in silence for a moment before replying. “We don’t know yet. Kami suspects he might have gone to investigate an unusual occurrence on a small planet nearby. An odd energy appeared out of the blue a couple days ago. Initially, Goku didn’t seem too interested in finding out more about it. He seemed sure it was nothing worth worrying about. But now he’s gone without saying a word to anyone. Gohan saw him go out in the middle of the night. We’re all of the idea he might indeed have gone on his own to investigate.” “That’s it? That idiot can use instant-transmission, right? You’re worrying over nothing. As much as it pains me to say this, Kakarot is saiyan enough to fend for himself. Whatever might lurk on that planet has no chance.” “It’s been hours since he left. I’d say there is something lurking up there. And if there’s something keeping Goku when the Cell Games are drawing nearer, it’s a problem for everyone.” The Prince flinched. The fact that everyone on Earth seemed to assume Goku alone would have been able to defeat Cell irritated him. What was worse was that he’d started to believe that too and hated himself for it. “Cut to the chase, namekian. What could be worse than Cell right now? Is the thought of him finding something up there entertaining enough for him so bothersome to you?” “I could ask you the same question. Are you afraid Goku might find someone else to give a lesson to? Are you jealous?” “Keep this attitude up and the lesson Kakarot gave you will pale in comparison to what I have I store for you, namekian.” The green warrior shot him another dirty look, but the prince wasn’t the type to feel intimidated by so little. “Now explain yourself. You said 'someone else.'” “To tell the truth, my worry is that he might find something. Something we’ve already seen some time ago. It’s a tree able to drain a planet of its energy, killing every life form in its wake. The last time, Goku had to use the Genki dama to get rid of it. This time, however, we fear the same kind of tree might have taken roots on a neighboring planet, a very small and uninhabited one. If things turned for the worse, I don’t think he’ll be able to save the situation in the same way. There’s no lifeforms to borrow energy from for him up there. That’s why we think he might need help.” “It’s better if you two don’t go up there.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me. I don’t think those unnecessarily large ears are there just for show. You and the boy would do better to stay here. I’m going to retrieve your precious Kakarot alone.” With those words, he moved to turn away from the other, but the namekian immediately moved to block his way. “Why do you care so much to go up there personally? You’re always acting hard to get when it comes to help someone, why bothering dirtying your hands now?” “Fool”, Vegeta hissed, “You have no idea what’s waiting for you up there.” “I think we do”, Piccolo rebuked, grimly. “We know about the Tree of Might and we know the effect those fruits have on inconsiderate opportunists such as yourself. You are the fool here, if you think we’d let you go up there and pluck the fruits for yourself.” “Tell me, was it a saiyan that gave you a taste of their power the last time?”, the prince inquired, sharply. Piccolo gritted his teeth. “What happened to Turles? Is he still alive?” “If Goku learned anything from the mistake that was sparing you, then no”, the namekian growled, “If by any chance he is, though, I plan to take care of him personally.” “Ah! You?”, Vegeta mocked him, “If you truly knew the power of those fruits, you wouldn’t indulge yourself in such ridiculous boasting.” “I know enough. I know that something like that must never fall in the hands of the likes of you.” “Spare me! I’ve grown strong beyond the need for cheap trickery. Besides, I’m an elite, the prince of all saiyans. I would never humiliate myself by resorting to such vulgar means of obtaining a fleeting boost of power. I know the effect of those fruits very well, namekian. If it can put our fears to rest, know that you won’t find fruits on this tree in particular. I know that for sure.” That seemed to startle the warrior. Vegeta moved him out of his way, seemingly unbothered. “Trust me, you and the runt have no idea what you’re dealing with”, he warned him. “If you care about his wellbeing, it’s better if you don’t let him go look for his father.” Piccolo was stunned. He’d never trusted the saiyan but he knew by his tone that he wasn’t lying, nor threatening. As much as it irritated him, it was clear that the warrior knew more than him in this regard. He feared what might have been the part he himself was unaware of. “Mr. Piccolo, it’s done! Bulma set the course, we can go!”, Gohan called out to him, jumping out of the vehicle, shooting a confused look at Vegeta, when he walked past him. “Not so fast, Gohan!”, huffed Bulma, exiting behind him and crouching at the feet of the ship, rummaging about. “I have to detach the ballast first. You know, since the little prince here has the bad habit of blasting off into space without telling anyone, we had to anchor it to the ground. This way he doesn’t make it fall on the side when he trains a bit too hard.” “Please, be quick, we have to go help my dad!” The youth’s eyes shone with a light that was familiar to all of them. Piccolo and Vegeta exchanged a long, meaningful look. They both knew what had to be done. The namekian gritted his teeth, lowering his eyes. He wasn’t the type to be pleased with himself about being the one doing the hard, right thing. It sickened him almost as much as it did heeding Vegeta’s words. He couldn’t believe the arrogant prince had been able to convince him. “Forgive me, Gohan”, he murmured under his breath, hitting the kid at the back of his head with a sharp gesture. Gohan didn’t have the time to register the motion and fell limp into the arms of his teacher. “What has gotten into you?!”, Bulma shrieked, turning around and being the young half-saiyan unconscious, “I just finished with the ship, it’s good to go!” “Perfect”, remarked Vegeta, heading for the door fo the vehicle. “Where do you think you’re going, mister?”, the scientist called out to him, shaking with indignation, “Are you planning on abandoning your child a second time?” “Calm yourself, woman, I’ll be back soon.” “Goku better be with you when you do, if you care for your life”, the namekian warned him, a piercing look in his eyes. “His safety might not interest you, but if something happens to him, no one will be able to safeguard yours. Maybe I’m not a threat to you anymore, but I think we both know what Gohan will be capable of if something happens to his father.” “Tsk. Your threats don’t impress me, namekian”, Vegeta replied, shooting him one last glance once he reached the end of the stairs to the ship door. “Fear not, I’ll get your precious Kakarot back safe and sound. The day you can claim his kid as your own has not come yet.” The fiery indignation in Piccolo’s eyes was the last thing he saw before the door closed.

  In the meantime, the Earth-raised saiyan had put his opponent to the spot. The fight had gotten closer in range. The heat of battle had pushed the renegade to retreat. Despite his ferocity was just as fiery as his opponent’s - if not more -, nothing he had to give seemed to be enough to overpower him. Turles was starting to get frustrated. He didn’t remember his opponent to be so strong. Kakarot had beaten him the last time, but the outcome of their fight had been a stroke of luck more than anything else. Before the warrior had found the strength to conjure up the devastating blow that had almost costed Trurles his life, the pirate had almost beaten him within an inch of his life. The dark saiyan could have sworn he’d really had the upper hand the last time, the youth hadn’t been holding back. When and how did he get this much stronger? The beating I’ve given him couldn’t have been worse then the damage he did to me… And I've grown monstruosly stronger than I was that time! What has happened to him since the last time we fought? He feels like an entire different person… Suddenly, a kick disrupted his thoughts, sending him flying and slamming him against the tree trunk. The impact took his breath away. “I have to hand it to you, Kakarot, you’re really putting up quite a fight this time…”, he chuckled, once he regained his voice. “You’re much stronger than you were the last time we fought, I can see that now. It’s a pity. I would have rather offered you a rematch worthy of its name as a show of gratitude for having held back on the death blow the last time.” “It’s weird to hear you speak of gratitude. I had the distinct impression you’d tried to kill me first before I attempted to do the same.” “I can’t deny that. Just as I can’t denied giving you a choice.” The shift in Turles’ gaze made him tense. He knew exactly what he was referring to. “Am I wrong?” “How do you think I could have accepted such a proposition, after you tried to harm my friends and my planet? I couldn’t have trusted someone like you to tell the truth! You left me no choice but to take you down.” “O, Kakarot…”, Turles shook his head, snickering, “You would have made a great saiyan if you hadn’t grown up among those Earthlings.” “What do you mean?”, the younger warrior asked him, quirking an eyebrow. Goku wasn’t sure he appreciated the way the darker saiyan’s eyes were looking him over. “I never thought I would have had to explain something so obvious so someone of my own kind. But I guess you really don’t know any better, don’t you Kakarot?”, he chuckled, shooting his opponent a look that was halfway between condescension and a kind of tenderness Goku wouldn’t have expected someone like Turles To be capable of. “What could so obvious that you’d feel the need to explain it to me? Are you trying to tell me that you trying to kill me is somehow coherent with your wish to show me gratitude?” “It’s not just about gratitude. I wan’t to show you my appreciation, Kakarot. You’re a saiyan, you should get it too. We’re a race of warriors. Loathing weakness is part of our nature as much as admiring strength and yearning for a path to glory. There is no greater form of respect than a saiyan acknowledging the power of one of his fellows, even when defeating him is a matter of life and death. No warrior could regret finding his death to the hands of an opponent to whom he’d be willing to give his life for. Class, sex, origin, rank, don’t matter; it is in our nature to try to partake in greatness, no matter how, as winners or as losers.  Though, a saiyan’s greatest dream is to find someone strong enough to perfectly match his own strength. The greatest honor is to be that perfect someone to a warrior, in comparison to whom any other would pale.” The renegade laid his eyes on his opponent’s face, observing his expression slowly change as comprehension dawned on him.

“Even warriors like us, born to rule and conquer, would lend their hand towards a rival worthy of its name. Not in surrender, not in fear or cowardice, but to honor a fighter one can only be lucky enough to meet once in a lifetime. Is it so incomprehensible that I have lent you my hand the first time we met, Kakarot? If only you’d been raised among your own people, then you’d know what it means to find that someone.” Goku was speechless, his eyes wide open with disbelief, as a deep awareness started emerging from obscure recesses of his conscience. What Turles was telling him was more than believable, more than comprehensible; it was something that ignited sparks of recognition into the very core of his being, a sense of intimate understanding he could hardly fathom. Finally he realized why the other’s words were giving him that weird sensation of familiarity; it was because he already knew exactly what the renegade was talking about. He had already found that someone, because that someone had found his way to him a long time ago. Vegeta… “Having said this, my only regret is having underestimated you, Kakarot. You’re much stronger than I thought you’d be. I wanted our rematch to be fair game… but I would’ve been happy if the imbalance had been in my favor. I’d love to get you back for the scar you gave me.” “That’s what you get for threatening my home.”

“Yeah, that was a mistake I would’ve rather done without. And I have avoided repeating it, this time. Look where we are, so far out in space your Sun’s light can barely reach us. Look at this tree. It didn’t produce any fruit and it never will. I’m not a threat to your precious planet. Yet, you’re still so inflexible, even after everything I told you…” Turles chucked under his breath. He looked bitter, though it was hard to tell if that was really the case. A sinister grin still bend his lips and made the younger warrior quite uncomfortable. “I opened my heart to you, Kakarot, is that still not enough for you?” “Enough for what?” “Enough for you to give a second chance”, the other replied without a hesitation, fixing his obsidian eyes on the warrior’s once more. “I understand now that it won’t be easy for me to fight you in these conditions. If I could find a suitable planet to plant the Tree of Might and eat its fruit, than maybe I could hope to give you a better fight. And maybe I could change your mind about my old proposition and make you join me. Think about it, Kakarot. Think of the places we could conquer, of the opponents we’d meet on our path, think of the battle and glory that awaits. If we joined forces, no one couldstand in our way. We could rule the galaxy, just the two of us.”

“I know the price of that tree of yours and I don’t intend to pay it with the lives of entire planets and their innocent inhabitants. If you think you can convince me to become an accomplice to your evil plans then you don’t know me at all, Turles.”

“I knew you’d say that.” The younger saiyan saw a dark flicker in the renegade’s eyes and a victorious smile growing on his lips, but he understood what it all meant too late. Turles joined his hands and struck the tree trunk with all his might. The branches shook violently above the warrior’s head. Goku didn’t move in time to avoid the crimson gush of dense liquid that rained on him from hundred of red flowers swaying above his head. He slipped and fell to the ground. He tried to get back up to his feet but he found it impossible to do so, with the pool of slick, slippery liquid spreading around him. The scent was so intense he felt he couldn’t breathe. He panted, falling prey to a sudden vertigo. “Forgive me, Kakarot. I would not be able to live with myself without trying to convince you in any way I can. Even if it means playing dirty.” He lifted his eyes and saw the darker saiyan walking towards him. The renegade crouched at his side, seemingly unaffected by the saccharine miasma wafting off the thick sap. “Struggling is futile, you’re already absorbing it through your skin. For now, just focus on breathing. It won’t kill you, I can assure you.” Goku glared at him. Turles ignored it and brought a hand to the warrior’s face. He brushed the sap away from Goku’s eyelids with his thumb before bringing the digit to is mouth and sucking it off, looking pleased. “Quite pungent, isn’t it? It took me a while to get used to It too. I image it might be a little too much for you just now. Don’t worry. You’ll start feeling much better before long.” With those words, the renegade bent down and kissed him, pressing their lips together. Goku was dumbfounded. As much as he wished to bite Trulls’ lips off he found himself disclosing his instead, allowing his tongue to reach his own, tasting the sickly sweetness of that sap. That was his end.  “I’ll see to that personally…” Those were the last words he heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

[kalinara]

So I have now made it to season 4 of the Walking Dead.  I have many opinions.  I like how the show doesn't glamorize Rick, and the other characters, becoming harder and colder.  It's a necessity, and it's satisfying watching them be badass.  But it's sad too that they've become so distrustful and wary.  I was SO relieved when they took in the Woodbury group at the end of the season.  It felt like a move in the right direction.

Though...dumb question.  Why didn't they all go settle in the fortified town instead of the prison?  (I hope they at least went and looted the library.)

I enjoyed Rick's foray into insanity a little too much, I think.  I don't think it was all because of Lori.  He was clearly fraying at the edges at the start of season 3 and it just got worse...a lot worse.

At the beginning of season 3, I was thinking "that man looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over.  He clearly needs to go hide some place and cry for a while."  Then it became very clear that no amount of time in a crying room was going to fix that.

Rick is surprisingly productive and group oriented, even when in the grips of mental illness.  Clearing out a cell block, hallucinating helpful people.  (...I am a little alarmed that season 4 Rick seems to have stolen his three questions from his hallucinations, but okay then.)

That said, I kind of think that there was a point where the others should have been willing to remove him from leadership.  The man has literally broken with reality, Hershel.  Please stop guilt tripping him.  He is sick.  Let him rest!

Also, I honestly expected the Ricktatorship to be more, I dunno, dictatorial?  But it seemed like Rick only made one or two decisions total against the wishes of the group, and at least one of those were when he was seeing dead people.  The rest of the time was basically leading by committee.

(It's actually a really interesting contrast with the Governor.  The Governor wears the title of an elected official but is an autocrat.  Rick claims to be a dictator, but mostly leads according to the group wishes.)

I'm increasingly bewildered at the fics and meta I see that characterize Rick as a "natural leader" though.  Because he is clearly so much happier at the beginning of season 4.  He doesn't even have that "Oops, here I am giving orders again, sorry" that most abdicated leaders have in this sort of story line.  He’s like “Nope.  I’ll help in a crisis but I won’t give orders,  I AM WORKING ON MY CROPS DAMNIT.”  He's a GOOD leader for the most part, (in as much as while he makes mistakes that have consequences, those mistakes are reasonable based on the immediate problem and the knowledge that they have at the time), but he's definitely not naturally inclined to it.

Which leads me to the logical conclusion that Rick Grimes is totally a submissive in the bedroom.  That is a man who is begging someone, ANYONE, to take the burden of decision making away for a while.   

But while he seems happier at the beginning of season 4, and Carl certainly seems healthier, I'm not sure Rick's coping mechanisms are any better.  "No, going outside without my gun is completely reasonable."  It's good to see Rick acting a little less like a feral cat, but sweetie, direct martyrdom isn't a good idea either.

In the end, I didn't hate Lori as much as I expected to.  I actually thought MOST of her behavior made some sense.  There were three big points against her though:  1) Her reaction when Shane wanted to leave in 2x01.  Honey, just let him go.  He's a horrible person.  2) Her reinforcement of gender roles within the camp.  I hate Andrea, Lori, but she's right.  Standing watch is more important than laundry.  Also, you could actually get the boys to help.  I mean, the men are the ones benefiting from the rigid enforcement of gender roles here, but I don't get the sense that it's on purpose.  They probably don't even notice.  I think if you pointed the inequity out to Rick, at least, he'd take steps to try to change it.  3) Her reaction to Shane's death.  Because seriously?!

Now ANDREA was awful.  While I loved season 2 in general, it was a bit painful in terms of the women.  Maggie was great, but Carol and Beth were mostly non-entities, and Andrea and Lori were outright frustrating.  The gender divide in terms of skill sets was annoying too.  Season 3 was a vast improvement on that ground.  We had Michonne.  Maggie and Carol seemed to have taken an upgrade to their skills.  And while Beth seemed to take a more traditionally feminine role in taking care of the baby, she did it in a way that didn't feel like a reinforcement of gender roles.  She just did what suited her best.    I'd like to think somewhere along the way the men figured out that they too can do laundry and everyone is much happier.

Andrea being annoying in season 3 was far less frustrating, because the female characters actually got to do things.

Though one part made me laugh.  When Carol told Andrea what happened to Shane, she just kind of stammers "But Shane LOVED Rick."  And while I actually agree with her, I was amused because I'm not sure when that would have come up in conversation.

I like to imagine that it came up during sex.  "Do you think you could be a little more sanctimonious when we're doing this?"  "Have you considered wearing button down shirts?  You'd look really hot, especially from behind."

(And while I'm pretty sure Andrea meant a fraternal love, I remember that creepy fucking washcloth scene after Carl got shot, so *I* think there was a sexual component there too.)

The show spent a little too much time in Woodbury in my opinion.  Michonne was great, but honestly, the Governor and Andrea were not compelling enough to warrant that much direct attention.  Especially not when compared to what's going on back at the prison.

"Lori's dead!  Carl's becoming a child soldier!  Rick's disassociating and hallucinating!  Maggie and Glenn are traumatized!  Daryl just LEFT!  WHY ARE WE HERE AND NOT THERE!"

Tyreese and Sasha are so great.  It's lovely seeing Michael Burnham in a different kind of role.  It was a little uncomfortable though how the show seemed to have a trend of killing off one black guy just as they introduced another.  T-Dog - Oscar - Tyreese.  I was happy to see Season 4 finally realize that yes, you can have more than one black guy on the show at once.  I hope they don't fuck that up.

They're probably going to fuck that up.

I have mixed feelings about the Maggie storyline in season 3.  I'm not a huge fan of sexual violence storylines in general.  But I will give the show credit for realizing that they can hit all of the important beats of a sexual assault storyline without including a rape.  I feel like too many shows don't realize that.  I wasn't a big fan of Glenn having the bulk of the focus in the aftermath though.  He’d been through a terrible experience too, but I wanted more about HER.

I like Daryl a lot more now than I did at the start.  But I still don't get why he's the fandom favorite.   I still think that a good three-quarters of Daryl's fandom characterization is stolen from either Glenn or Rick.  Which is a shame because ACTUAL Daryl is a lot of fun.  I wish I got to see him more in fanwork.  But I think I've come to terms with the fact that I will never see eye-to-eye with a vast majority of the fandom.

(Also, please tell me Beth-Daryl won't be a thing in the show.  I like their dynamic AS FRIENDS, but she's SEVENTEEN.  He is old enough to be her FATHER.  And while age differences don’t have to be bad, she is literally still a child!)

The Prison is actually looking quite comfortable now.  Plague aside.  I can't wait to see the show ruin it.  :-)

[owlways-and-forever]

A/N: Alright, another chapter, naturally later than I intended to post it. The good news is that the next (and final) chapter of this installment is already partially written and oh boy is it a whopper. Strap in for the feels guys, you won't want to miss this (though you might hate me for it afterward). Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! See you all next time!

*IMPORTANT: You may have noticed that the title of the story has been changed, and that’s because I’ve decided to break this story into pieces, since it’s already pretty long, and I want to avoid having one long, 100+ chapter, 1,000,000 word leviathan that takes 10 years to finish. I will absolutely be continuing the story, I’ve just decided to split it into four different “books”. And even though they’ll all be continuous parts of the larger Better Together ‘verse, they should be pretty much readable as standalone pieces too. So hooray to that! As for this particular “book”, there will 4 more chapters before I conclude and begin the next one. That’s all I’ve got to say right now! Go check out @thosemarauderboys where you can find some awesome edits that @ginnyweasiee has been making for this story!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THE BLOG FOR THIS UNIVERSE @thosemarauderboys​​. You can find fancasts of the characters (including OCs) to see what I imagine them looking like, plus fun facts about them, and I’m trying to update with like, images and stuff as well.

Read the previous chapters at the links below, on ff.net, or ao3.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11,Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25

Chapter 26: A Matter of Blood

To some surprise, the game for the Quidditch Cup ended up being between Hufflepuff, known for their technical skill and advanced moves executed flawlessly by senior players, and Slytherin, known for dirty playing and an uncanny ability to injure the star players on the opposing team. Almost everyone but the Slytherins were supporting Hufflepuff, and the stands were a sea of gold.

James, Sirius, Remus and Peter had wormed their way into the Hufflepuff section of the stands, so as to be in the thick of everything, and found themselves sitting next to some of the Hufflepuff first years. Remus was with to Georgiana Laurent, smiling and chatting quietly to each other, seemingly oblivious to the excited hordes surrounding them and paying hardly any attention at all to the game that was unfolding. Peter stood behind them with Gavin O'Neill, the two of them asking lots of questions and trying to understand what was going on, to varying degrees of success. Sirius and James found the company of Adrian Wells, who seemed to be as enthusiastic about quidditch as the two of them, despite having grown up in a muggle family. He didn't know all the nuance of the rules, but he cheered and taunted enthusiastically, and more than once reduced the other boys to fits of laughter.

It was a dirty game, as predicted, with Hufflepuff racking up the goals and Slytherin causing injuries left and right. When Caius Nott sent a bludger in the direction of Foxtrin Flint, catching him squarely in the stomach and knocking him clean off his broom, there was a roar of displeasure from the stands, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle sharply. They could practically hear her reprimanding Nott, and everyone seemed convinced he would be sent off, but it did not happen.

"Are you bloody insane?!" Adrian yelled, motioning to where Foxtrin was being helped off the pitch. "He'll have broken ribs from that wanker!"

Partha Patel put away the penalty shot with no difficulty, which only seemed to further incense the Slytherin team. Dolohov, the Keeper and Captain, called all the Slytherin players over, and seemed to encourage them to violence as he punched his fist into his hand. They were only down by 50 points, catching the snitch would win it for them, but Evan Rosier, the Seeker, seemed to be arguing with Dolohov that it couldn't be done. It earned him a slap to the head, and his cheeks darkened with rage. The huddle broke and the players soared in separate directions, ready to resume play.

The game grew increasingly filthy. Bilius Weasley was playing with a deep cut on his forehead that seemed to pour blood into his eyes, and his red hair was stained even darker crimson along his ears. Vortigurn Warwick was sent off when he tried to bite Tristan Downing, and Thracius Geary was given the same punishment when he sent a bludger hurtling towards Madam Hooch.

Rain had started to fall when Rosier suddenly began hurtling towards the Hufflepuff section of the stands. The snitch hung in the air about ten feet in front and above the stands, and for a moment it seemed as though Rosier was going to snatch a victory for Slytherin. But then Amarantha Cavendish saw his move, and had been patrolling the pitch closer to the Hufflepuff end than him, and she sped in the direction of the stands as well. It would be close, neck and neck, and the chants from all around to encourage Cavendish grew deafening. As Rosier stretched out his hand in front of him, Cavendish took advantage of his balance being thrown off, bowling into him and sending him sprawling off path. She course-corrected quickly and grabbed the snitch in her fingers, holding it up triumphantly as Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Rosier, however, had gone careening into the Hufflepuff sections, landing squarely in the midst of the students, who supported him begrudgingly. Caius Nott and Meirchion McCrae were heading toward them to collect Rosier, anger written clearly across their faces.

"Get your filthy hands off me, mudblood," Rosier sneered at Gavin, who was supporting his shoulder with some trepidation.

"What did you say?" Adrian and Sirius hissed simultaneously, pushing past Remus, Georgiana and Peter. Sirius looked like he was about to punch Rosier, and James grabbed his wrist in case he needed to be held back.

"I told the vile little creature to keep its grubby paws off of me," he spat, locking his steel grey eyes on Sirius. "And the same goes for you, blood traitor."

"I wouldn't touch you for all the gold in Gringotts," Sirius answered with a snide grin. "I wouldn't want to catch whatever disease you clearly have."

"How something as pathetic as you came from the likes of the Black Family I'll never understand," Rosier goaded. "I'm surprised mummy dearest hasn't had you disowned yet."

"You shut your mouth," Sirius snarled, his grin turning downward and his teeth bared in a look that was almost feral.

"Sirius, leave it," Remus urged quietly, placing his hand on his friend's arm.

"Good idea, listen to your little pet."

Sirius let out a growl and launched himself at Evan Rosier, wrenching his arm from James' grasp and clawing at Rosier's face. He pulled his arm back and punched the startled Rosier in the face, his fist connecting with bone with a sickening crunch. Evan recovered quickly though, and turned the tables of the fight, using his size to his advantage as he began to pummel Sirius. James and Adrian were quick to join in, but before either could land more than a few punches Meirchion McCrae and Caius Nott appeared, pulling the much smaller boys away and holding them fast. Nott was holding Adrian and twisted his arms so violently behind his back James could hear both shoulders pop as Adrian tried not to scream in pain. James thrashed and tried to kick Meirchion in the shins, but the older boy was much stronger and one quick punch to the kidneys had James doubled over.

"Excuse me!" Professor Sprout hollered, puffing out her chest as she pushed through the crowd of students watching the fight. "You will desist NOW."

The echoing command in her voice rang through James' mind and he saw Sirius and Evan pull away from each other, almost as though an invisible force were peeling them apart. Caius Nott and Meirchion McCrae dropped the two boys in the grasp simultaneously. Professor Sprout's eyes roved over all of them, taking everything in.

"Mr. Potter, please take Adrian here up to the Hospital Wing," she said, her voice softening a touch as she instructed them. James and Adrian began to walk away, but they were slow enough to hear the rest of her words. "Mr. McCrae, Mr. Nott, you will both lose ten points for your house – we do not pick on those who are smaller than us. Mr. Rosier and Mr. Black, you will both lose 50 points for your houses for fighting, and you will have a fortnight's worth of detentions. The first of which you will serve in my office, now."

"So how bad was detention?" Remus asked when Sirius pushed through the portrait hole and collapsed on the floor next to their table.

"It was just boring," he groaned, dragging his hands across his face. "She lectured us about fighting and how we should all just love each other regardless of our Houses or blood status. As if I could ever love one of those foul minded Slytherin purists," he spat.

"Sirius, he called you a blood traitor..." Remus said quietly, looking at Sirius with wide eyes.

"My family is like them, you know that, they believe in all that nonsense," Sirius answered with a wave of his hand, but his eyes closed to hide a flicker of pain.

"It's not so bad, they've been calling my family that for ages," James said, trying to make his best friend feel better.

"Yeah, but it's your whole family," Sirius whispered, almost too quietly for the other boys to hear.

It was quiet for a few moments as the four boys absorbed the words, their young minds beginning to understand just how heavily differences in blood status weighed upon the wizarding world, and how it affected each of them.

"Thank you," Peter said after a few moments, breaking the silence.

"For what?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing.

"For fighting," Peter answered. "I'm not muggleborn, but I might as well be. My magic isn't strong, I didn't even know there was such a thing as magic until Professor Sniders came with my letter. Sometimes I think I don't belong here, or in this world. And you fought for Gavin, and Adrian, and Georgiana and maybe even a little bit for me too. You're brave, Sirius, you stand up to those people because they're wrong and you know it. You're a true Gryffindor."

"Peter that's... quite touching," Sirius said, looking sincere for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile. "Did you want a good snog as well or just pretty words?" He reached up and grabbed Peter's wrist and pulled him down to the floor.

They wrestled and James and Remus jumped on top, a pile of giggling boys with wiggling fingers reaching out to tickle each other, seeking out screeches of laughter that drew dirty looks from the other Gryffindors who were trying to study.

[gamerdamemedia]

Tales From Fallen London: Abandon All Human Decency, Ship & Hope Who Enter Here

I wrote this vignette 2 years ago based on a failed playthrough of Sunless Sea.  It was a lot of fun to write, so I thought I’d post it here.

My first unlucky avatar was Captain Sibeal Delauncay.  The good Captain, as she preferred to be called at port, was a natural philosopher by trade, & took an old steamer ship, along with her faithful Surgeon, feral & nearly comatose ferret as the ship’s mascot (clearly doomed us from the start) & a crew of eight zailors (no I did not misspell that) out into the dark sea.  Her goal?  To gather enough tales from her adventures to one day retire & publish a novel.

Things began simply enough for Captain Sibeal.  She picked up a passenger who wanted to be taken to a tomb colony, presumably to die — there isn’t exactly a lot of land in Unterzee — & was tasked by the admiralty to check on the ports in the area.  Captain Sibeal chose to remain close to the main port, but did travel to several close islands, learning Secrets that she shared with her Surgeon to gain more insight in the workings of their dark world.  She gained the attention of Zee’s three gods.  She spent one evening in port with a Dapper Gentleman who bid her passionately to keep his locket with her.  She quickly replace her feral mascot with a grumpy cat that snuck aboard at first opportunity who somehow made their cannons work better.  She shot a lot of giant crabs & even a pirate ship once.

It’s hard to say where things began to take a turn for the worse.  Perhaps she should’ve been more adventurous in her explorations.  Perhaps she should have been more diligent in following up with quests.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have agreed to smuggle goods for a dark stranger.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have accidentally spent all her meager money on flares when she meant to buy fuel & then couldn’t sell them back for even close to the same price as she bought them!

Who can say?  What can be explained is the series of events that ultimately led to her death.

After running out of fuel & supplies, Captain Sibeal weighed her options & ultimately decided to turn to the gods for help.  It was better than waiting to die.  At least in her travels she had learned a few Secrets, & she whispered this to Salt, the god of horizons.  Rather than bestowing them with much-needed supplies, a white zee-bat, unlike the normal one they kept on the ship for scouting, lighted upon the railing.  Captain Sibeal stared at the zee-bat while it stared back, transfixed by its crystalline eyes.  Her gaze followed as it suddenly flew away into the darkness.  Hearing the crew gasp, Captain Sibeal came to her senses, only to discover that they were now in a new place.  The accursed Kingeater’s Castle, all the way on the other side of the known map!

Accursed god of secrets!  How did this help!?  What good was it to bring them here?  After finding nothing of use on the island, they set out from the desolate castle, praying their meager fuel holds out.  Not wanting to waste anything, the Captain sends out the zee-bat to search for land.  It returned, bringing a report of a place called Saviour’s Rock not far north.  The name offered hope, & the Captain directs the ship northward.

Heading north, they enter the Sea of Statues.  Giant hands protrude from the murky water, as if reaching to the forgotten surface.  Or perhaps they wish to pull the foolish humans down with them.  What lies below, waiting in the unseen?  The crew grows restless in the dark, as they’ve had to douse the running lights to conserve fuel.  It’s a risky gamble.  They need fuel to get out, but will it matter if they’re all insane?

It turns out not to matter either way, as they’ve barely cleared the castle when the engines die.  This time, she turned to Stone.  The only female of the three gods (assuming gods even have physical forms to have genders), perhaps she would hear the lady captain’s plea.  But rather than an offering of Secrets, Captain Sibeal offered of herself.  A great wound for the Wounded.

Thankfully, the Surgeon is able to efficiently bandage the wound.  After, Captain Sibeal paces the deck, anxious that there has been no hint of a reply either way in response to her offering.  Silent gods can be just as terrifying as when they speak.  Suddenly, the engineer runs up to her.  Expecting more bad news, Captain Sibeal is thrilled when he reports, “Captain – there’s more fuel in the bins than I realized.  Just a little.  I’d looked three times. I’m sure it wasn’t there before. But now – it might be enough -“

Silently thanking Stone for offering useful aid (was transporting them here Salt’s idea of helping, or was he just being a jerk?), the crew sets off from the desolate place.  But it wasn’t long before the lack of supplies began to take its toll on the crew.  When the first crewman died, the bo’sun offered a terrible choice: prepare the body for the funeral, or prepare it for a meal?

The idea is tempting, but Captain Sibeal knew order had to be maintained.  The crew was already on the edge of terror.  Having them feast on the flesh of their fallen comrade would only push them further over the tenuous border of sanity.  She dismisses the bo’sun.  They had to retain their humanity.

Sadly, while the crew is giving out, the engine gives out first.  Again, they are stranded without fuel.  It crosses her mind to use a flare, but sadly she’d sold them back.  And this far out, what are the odds that would do any good.  The only knowledge Captain Sibeal possess that might be a boon is her attention of the gods.  Salt was less than no help, & the Captain wasn’t too eager to turn to Stone again so soon.  Besides, as weak as she was from the hunger, Captain Sibeal wasn’t sure she had the strength for another offering.  Storm is the only one left.  The angriest of the three.   Sadly, it wouldn’t be the Captain making the sacrifice this time.

The only fair way to decide is to draw lots.  The loser is swiftly & painlessly killed on the deck.  The few remaining crew watch on silently as his blood slowly spills over the edge of the deck & out into the sea.  No one can stand to look at the other.  Suddenly, there’s a loud crack, & a stalactite falls from the sky, crashing onto their deck.  At first it seems they’ve only drawn the ire of the Storm, given the massive hole in the deck & the second dead crewman.  But as they examine the stalactite, they discover it’s made of ore that can substitute for coal.  They will live another day, but the price of that survival is growing increasingly high.

Captain Sibeal frequently finds her mind wandering.  Thoughts of evenings at the pub, enjoying warm meals & decent wine parade through her mind.  Soon it becomes all she can think about, almost an obsession.  When she begins to eye one of the starving crew, Captain Sibeal shakes herself to her senses.  She must do something to stave off the madness.  She fears what will happen otherwise.

But as more times passes, & more of the crew begin to die, Captain Sibeal knows she has to do something to save her crew.  The inevitable has set in.  The creeping sense that they won’t make it out of here alive gnaws at her mind worse than the blasted, useless ferret.  And if that’s the case, then Captain Sibeal vows to fight as hard as she can against fate, the gods, or whoever else tries to stand in their way.  So when she receives word of more dead zailors, she orders the bo’sun to do what’s necessary.  The Captain salves what little is left of her humanity with the knowledge that they were already dead, & twas better for their bodies to feed the crew than the sea.  But is there coming back from such a point?

The deck is far more silent now.  The only crew remaining is the Captain, the Surgeon, the cat, & two zailors.

Finally, they reach Saviour’s Rock, & there’s a brief moment of hope that their suffering was worth it.  But there is no salvation to be found.  Unless that salvation is in the terrifyingly giant, hairy arms of the spiders scurrying about.  As Captain Sibeal stares at the monstrous webs crossing above them all hope fades like a puff of smoke on the non-existent wind.

All that matters is trying to survive.   So when she sees her crew eating the few rats that remain, she turns a blind eye toward it.  They’d already eaten their mates.  What was a few vermin?  Sadly, for some reason she can’t eat the ferret.

As the engines sputtered into silence, & the warm glow of the lantern fades into nothingness, Captain Sibeal accepts the inevitable.  They must abandon ship.  In such a desolate place, the odds that any will survive in their current state is highly unlikely.

Thus was the fate of Captain Sibeal Delauncay.