#The idea of taking a crossover and twisting it to something slightly original is something that I've always adored.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Crossover AU Theory: If Sari Sumdac Formed A Band With Cherri Bomb

[Note: Mature Reader Audiences Only, and Reading this crossover au theory which is a fanon theory, along with any off topic stuff, is optional. so only read this post if you want to.]

technically this would be a Fanon Timeline Theory.

so anyway is it weird to think about a idea of Sari forming a band with Cherri, but it being Sari's future Adult self who now has purple eyes in her human form and even purple optics in her robot form.

anyway Sari could still have a Human Soul, but at the same time it is a hybrid between a Human Soul and Cybertronian Spark, but instead of going where her Autobot friends will go eventually, she ends up going to one of the Afterlives for Humans, because she is technically a human.

they could also have a Robo-Fizz as part of the band, who can be the same one that Sari ends up calling Rozz, once again is still pronounced like Roz with one "Z" but it is spelled with two.

the first song that Sari and her new friends and band could play, is Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, with Sari as it's lead singer.

and unknown to Sari, her powers end up taking over some TVs and Radios and having the music that they are playing play on both the TVs and Radios that are normally Vox and Alastor's territories...

Sari can understand machines and what they need to be fixed.

so she might have other powers besides having multi-weapons on her and her being hinted to be a Seekerling when she was younger.

her teenage form when in robot mode has what appears to be Seeker Wings, so it makes sense that before Sari becomes much older later in her life, she was a Seekerling in her childhood.

I might add the idea about Sari forming a band with Cherri in "Falling For The Angel In Disguise" and the story is going to stay in hiatus a bit longer...

even if the original main character wasn't Sari at first, but ideas started to change and so Sari is the main character and heroine of the story.

and I think I like the idea that Bumblebee in the story doesn't have the same alternate mode from before, because he gets a bit taller and bigger like his counterparts from Transformers Prime and Earthspark.

so he has the same alternate mode as TFP or Earthspark Bumblebee.

and yeah, Adult-Sari having developed feelings for Bumblebee but being turned down, is just one of the heart breaking parts in the story.

and Swindle ending up as the rebound guy is just one of those ideas that I added in....but the ship between Swindle and Adult-Sari might still be a Semi-Ship, meaning they might not fully end up together right away and there could end up being love rivals for Sari's Love.

and yeah even in that story, Sari is secretly Megatron's Daughter who he had no clue he had went through the mitosis and had her in Sumdac's Secret Lab....who I'm starting to think Isaac Sumdac could have a Twin Brother, maybe I could add that as one of the plot twists.

Sari could be sassy to Megatron and either call him Dad-2 or Mom.

for all we know Sari could end up being a hybrid between looking human but with dragon scales and wings in her sinner form, but for now she is just gonna be very much alive and just uses the Asmodean Crystals to disguise herself as a Imp-Succubus Hybrid.

her horns are suppose to be female imp horns but instead of white they are pink, and well they are a bit like Sallie-May's and Striker's horns but still being slightly different.

I wonder if it be funny if Shockwave shows he can be a very good dancer at a party, and proves this by grabbing a random young lady, and unknowingly picks Adult-Sari who is in her disguise form or having died and end up in a sinner form...

and it becomes like a Autobot/Decepticon Tango (which references Transformers Earthspark) and the song playing could be something that match the perfect rhythm of their dancing even if they aren't in a romantic relationship.

the song that could be playing could be Romeo & Juliet by S.O.A.P.

and picture Shockwave gracefully dipping Sari and making some other Sinners and Hellborns swoon, well Sari isn't swooning the same way even if she could be suspicious of him but tries to hide her being impressed by how well he dances.

and yeah the place Sari ends up in, is the Lust Ring instead of the Pride Ring.

but in that crossover story, Sinners will be able to move freely and live in either ring they want...even if it is just in the Fanon.

Lucifer is pretty much a Himbo who doesn't understand that he is part of the reason the Pride Ring is overpopulated.

if it turns out that Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel is just as Adorkable as Ozzie and Fizz, who are the most Adorkable Sweet Potatoes Ever...

I wouldn't be surprise if it ends up overwhelming cuteness that will cause some fans to fall over a bit from the super cuteness.

I still want to give the Lucifer from our dimension the cold hands to face punishment, because he is one of the reasons why it took so long for the Feminine Energy to get better, and we seriously do not need Omni-Mom to be harmed anymore than she and the Feminine Energy has been already, and if I was allowed to and was strong enough for it, I would use boxing gloves to punch him and any Eon-Boomer who even tries to pull that abusive masculine bull slag.

but I have to do the pacifist way and try to hope things work out.

they been getting away with it for FAR too long, and I refuse to let them keep doing that messed up stuff, the Feminine Energy took some time to heal and possibly still in a fragile state at the moment.

the positive masculine needs to help with the healing of the feminine energy possibly...and yeah still have a bit of trust issues for some percent of the Eon-Boomers, even if I can only trust some of them.

anyway back to the whole talking about TFA/Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Crossover AU....is it weird to view Sari in that Crossover story called "Falling For The Angel In Disguise" as someone who doesn't really believe in Primus but more is a Gaia Believer, you know believing in the Cybertronian Goddess instead...

I don't think I have added that yet, but I might put it in the maybe, like I might add it in if I haven't already.

I might also change the timeline of the story, being a bit more in the future thanks to what I had viewed before...

so since the timeline in the TFA Universe, where Sumdac found Megatron in the year 1958, and it could mean that Sari meets her Autobot Friends in the year 2008.

but it could also mean that Isaac Sumdac could of found Megatron in 2008 and 50 years after 2008, Sari meets the Autobots.

anyway if Sari and Cherri did form a friendship, it be like a Big Sister & Little Sister type, Cherri being like the Cool and Reckless Older Sister. which will just be Fanon of course, and I might add that to Falling For The Angel In Disguise...

I think Sari could still be able to heal other Transformers, even without the Key, it might be that she can only use the healing ability when she fully matures over the years of her life, even if she ends up aging much slower at some point when she becomes a adult.

Sari aging much slower could be because of her being half-human and half-cybertronian.

which would possibly mean that she will end up out living Isaac Sumdac, and even if one could have a story where Sari's human half and cybertronian half age in sync, like the one story where Sari's human half is 23 years old and 23 thousand years old.

it could be possible if Sari hadn't upgraded herself, her cybertronian half would still be around the human age she was before her upgrade...

and it could be possible she would still age much slower at some point even if she hadn't upgraded herself, and yeah in Falling For The Angel In Disguise, it will have Sari be aged back to how she was before the upgrade, which is mentioned in a type of flashback way even if the present day Sari is 23 years old/23 thousand stellar cycles old.

she keeps some of her upgraded self when she is turned back to being 8 years old, but in her childhood, she is not only 8 years old in human years, but also 8 thousand stellar cycles in cybertronian.

Sari had to go through becoming a teenager again, but it would mean she didn't skip from just going from 8 to 13 or 14 going on 15 years old...

so yeah, even if she does keep some of the upgrade and keep the same power to transform into robot mode, but when she is aged back to how she was, the said robot form will be much smaller and be technically a Sparkling, and yeah Sari's childhood is mention even if she is much older and around 23 years old in the present.

flashbacks in stories do happen, even when the character is talking about their childhood in a third person type of way that the readers are reading about.

I think if Sari told Cherri both her human and cybertronian ages, it might confuse her or maybe surprise her.

it does seem confusing and might not make much sense, but not all ideas have to make sense.

even the whole Swindle and Adult-Sari being ship together doesn't have to make sense, even the whole fanon theory about the whole Sari and Cherri forming a band together with a Robo-Fizz who Sari calls Rozz.

in their band, Cherri could be the original lead singer until she hears Sari singing, and Cherri decides to have Sari be the lead singer.

not everyone has to take the whole fanon theory seriously, but I may or may not decide to add that idea in the future to one of the future chapters of that Crossover story where Swindle and Adult-Sari are in a type of Semi-Ship but may become a Full Ship later on...

maybe I will add a love triangle, not counting Alice from the Transformers Movie who in the story is suppose to be a TFA version.

Sari has no interest in her, and yeah I am kind of spoiling it a bit by talking about it...but Swindle does end up helping Sari get rid of Alice The Decepticon.

and Sari ends up getting Alice as a type of Stalker when she was in college. even if I do decide to have Sari as being bi or pan, she still wouldn't be interest in that Decepticon Womech.

like if she had to choose between dating Alice or Shockwave, I think Sari would choose Shockwave.

and I don't really plan to have Alice make another appearance in that story for a very long while...or even if I do decide to, I might end up giving Alice The Decepticon as some bad luck.

anyway even if I do decide to add the whole Sari being in a band with Cherri and a Robo-Fizz, it probably wont be mention much in the story and would probably be a once in a while maybe...

also a Fanon theory isn't really involving Canon, it is more of a possible what if type of idea...

and well Sari could form a platonic relationship with a Robo-Fizz, ya know just being friends and not being in a romantic one, well unless I decide it could lead to that, you know when characters start out as friends but slowly fall in love...

but I could decide to have Sari and the Robo-Fizz she forms a bond with, have a type of platonic relationship where they don't fall in love.

anyway I don't think I have much to say about the whole Sari, Cherri and Robo-Fizz forming a band, but it is just a idea and fanon theory like if they did form a band, I think Sari would become the lead singer even if Cherri was the original lead singer before deciding to let Sari become the lead singer instead...

and anyway like it says at the very top, reading this is optional so it's okay that not everyone reads this, even if it talks a little about that whole band idea and some off topic stuff...

#do not reblog without permission #mature audiences only #crossover au #hazbin hotel au #helluva boss au #transformers au #transformers animated #sari sumdac #cherri bomb #theory

[sw124]

Another Crossover!

[edited]

Ok I’m back with another crossover! So I’ve played the game NSR [no straight roads] and its a really entertaining game, @rainy-nomad has done a few pics of the game and a slight crossover with DJ SuperNova and DJ MusicMan from FNAF security breach. Soooooo you know what that lead me to do? YES thats right! I started thinking of Clover and how she’d look in the game. I sketched her out and showed a few friends including Rainy and another talented artist @rosieanimations6456 who both then drew her. A story idea came out of her as a boss. Now her boss battle is similar to Yinu, accept for a few things.

First off: She’s protected not just by Sun and Moon but Eclipse as well, he acts similar to Yinu’s mother as he gets really big and will do what he can to prevent Mayday and Zuke from coming near her. He’ll protect his brothers too but Sun and Moon can handle themselves, however when both brothers fall and you start getting hits on Clover then he starts getting really mad, twisting his appearance into something really scary. Sun’s style of music is upbeat and cheery, blasting out fast paced rhythms while Moon is slower and can easily catch you off guard if your not careful. Clover is sweet and more along the lines of innocent and emotion driven, she provides the energy for all the attacks. Eclipse is the conductor/Theremin player. While each can play a singular instrument all Four of the siblings join in and play a giant Calliope/Theremin mix (this comes into the theme of their music). Though Clover wasn’t apart of the group quite yet, she had to practice. She finally got the go ahead from Tatiana to join her brothers on stage when she performed for her. When Mayday and Zuke come to take over their district. “Cloudy Gardens” it was during her ‘induction: concert where she’d show the world who she was.

Theme: Big-Top Orchestra, imagine taking the best orchestra music and just making everyone a talented acrobats an you got ‘Heaven’s quartet’ circus themed orchestra music with actual acrobatics thrown in. Each sibling plays a unique instrument that connects to the giant Calliope, Moon has a harp, Sun has a violin, Clover has a ocarina flute, as for Eclipse he actually conducts it all backstage, casting a shadow that points to each sibling on when to play.

Album Cover: the original before beating them is a watercolor painting of the Sun, Moon and ‘Eclipse’ with a four leaf shamrock rising from a tiny mound towards them.

Boss fight: Much like Yinu your mostly battling the Brothers rather then Clover. The first phase you battle Sun, second phase is Moon and third is Eclipse an he’s the hardest. Sun and Moon help him out by providing air support via the Aerial hoops and ropes. An when it looks like the trio of brothers are about to beaten Clover steps in, Eclipse tries to tell her to stay out of the fight an let them handle it but Clover is taking this fight personally.

“NO ONE HURTS MY BIG BROTHERS! RAAAAHHHHH!!!!!”

She becomes a powerhouse, she takes full control of the Calliope/Theremin and goes all out. Sending wave after wave of attacks, if Mayday and Zuke parry enough waves they can take her down. It works and she falls from her platform, she’s stunned for a moment but as she gets up the large instrument begins to crumble and fall. A large steel beam breaks from the instrument and starts falling towards her, her brothers all rush and push her out of the way. All four of them managing to be spared from the falling instrument, when the dust clears Clover rushes to the instrument. Distraught she digs through it and…finds a little box with an antenna on it…carved on the box is an engraving.

“To my little stars, may you always bring joy to others.”

Clover cries a little before…she starts playing it, turning a little key behind it all the way over. The box is a tiny calliope/theremin, she begins to try and play it but messes up. She’s getting slightly frustrated but….then Eclipse comes up behind her…and gently guides her hands to play it. Sun and Moon come over and join in playing.

As they play….Clover begins to sing a little song.

———————————————————————————-

“In a lily pond I lay, all upon a summers day,

An I chased a dragon fly, all across an ancient sky

Falling with a thousand stars, down the Milky Way to mars

Back again in time for day….in a lily pond I lay”

———————————————————————————-

An thats my crossover idea.

Here’s the song

https://youtu.be/eALHLEE0-b0

#nsr ocs #five nights at freddy's #fnaf crossover #Youtube

[powerovernothing]

A little while back I saw that that the most lovely @sevi007​ created a super wonderful post based around the idea of a crossover happening with Yondu and Peter based around the film Road to El Dorado.

Now, considering that’s one of my all time favorite animated movies, and the concept is just way too fitting for our Local Space Assholes that we know and love... well, honestly, I couldn’t help but get inspired and write my own take on this fantastic idea.

So, with that in mind, as well as knowing this is totally in honor of Sevi’s great headcanons, please take a moment and consider both Yondu Udonta and Peter Quill in an over the top scenario similar to the one of the film.

Imagine the two of them in the roles of Miguel and Tulio, but shift the plot ever so slightly so that it fits the world of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Meaning that, while it’s still based on Road to El Dorado of course, it goes from two best friends searching for a golden city, to a father and son looking for great riches...in space!

And while that idea alone can totally create something hilarious with great dialogue, allow me to take a moment and discuss in further detail my own thoughts of what this grand Ravager Family adventure would entail.

(Lots of Yondad and Star Son crossover headcanon and fic under the cut! Prepare for a mix of many feelings~!)

~Both Ravager Father and Son pulling many a scam, as they often do, on some backwater hub on some equally tattered planet, to earn a few extra units on the side -- “’Cussa can’t have on’ too many units, eh, boy?” -- and having it go all so perfectly with Yondu at the head of said scams -- until Peter manages to set his eyes upon a particular holo-map of an unmarked planet being tossed into the betting pile. One that he, oh so surely, believes is indeed their massive ticket to massive wealth -- because when dealing with something that unique, why on earth would it ever be anything else? -- and thus completely forcing his old man into one final game to try his hand in winning their original earnings as well as the map to boot: “Pops, check this shit out! Look at it! Just imagine all the untapped potential! The mystery! The units! The women! It could be like our, I dunno, our destiny or something to find this place before anyone else! Possibly even our fate!” “Boy, if ah’even so much as believed in any’sorta idea o’fate, ah’wouldn’t be sitting up in this shitty bar with you tossing around loaded dice!” “Aw, c’mon, Yondu!” “Oh, don’tcha even start -- not with ‘dem damn eyes of yers -- aw, hell!”

~Them actually winning the game, without a doubt, and collecting the units and the map...but sadly ending up getting caught because of all their scamming done to the locals -- “Guess ‘that ol’ Ravager luck was bound to run out sometime, eh, pops?”/”Dont’cha go blaming ‘dis shit on me now, boy! Ya the one wanted the fool map ta’ begin with!” -- and thus, having to create yet another con just to get away with their asses in tact. Meaning, but of course, fake fighting each other all the way out of the bar and towards some amount of safety. Which looks almost too convincing to any sort of onlookers that aren’t sure what is teasing, conning, or actual truth when it comes to Captain and Star Lord. (But that’s okay, because sometimes neither do they.)

“Ya go an’ raise a boy ever since he was nutfin more ’den ah’ scrawny lil’ youngin, and what he go and do ta’ya in return? Give you loaded dice ta’ get’cha nabbed by’th law?! What kinda’ son would’a -- ah! Nova Core thank’tha stars yer here! Go on now! Arrest ‘dis embarrassment; drag ‘im outta ma’ sight!” “What the hell, you arrogant blueberry? I put up with all your crazy bull for years, and you wanna start shit talking me like this?! When you're the one controling all the cons in the first place, and just pullin’ me along for the ride! No way, arrest him! He’s the crooked one!” “Tha’ it, boy, I just about had enough outta yoo’! Ya and yer damn disrespect! If ya got any sorta scrote left’on ya, you would flash ‘em fancy blasters of yers, and show what kinda man you really are!” “A better man than you, obviously! Come on, let’s go! I’ve been wanting to do this for years!”

~Both of them escaping far away from the various aliens wanting their heads because of their tricks -- after all the blaster shots, whistles, and countless amounts of property damage ring throughout the bar and the streets --  as well as the Nova that has become too done with these two to ever be lenient ever again. And very ‘cleverly’ stowing away on a, what they assumed to be at the time, completely ship and having to escape from that in the end as well.

Because apparently fate -- “And boy, ah’really wish ya’d stop using ‘dat damn term.” -- just loves to take the piss out of them whenever convenient. So they end up floating in a poor, pitiful, half functioning escape pod in the middle of space’s absolute nowhere as wait for life support to give out. "Pops, you ever think that we'd end up going out like this?" "...Well, shit, lotta ways ah’thought our last moments would go, but nowhere near ‘dis humiliatin’" "Hah, well since we're probably gonna kill over any second now, ya got -- I dunno, any regrets, old man?" "A'sides dying out n’space with’cha, boy?" "Yep." "Pffft, hell 'course I do. One bein’ -- I ain't never had ‘nough credits t’pay off all 'em bounties an’ threats on all 'em planets." "My regret -- 'sides killin' over -- is that our most badass adventure, our most epic Ravager heist, is friggin' over before it really even got going, and ain't no one even gonna remember what we did! In this planet. Or in that star system. Or how many people we pissed off in that one..." "Prob’ly space exposure  gettin' all up in these ol' eyes or sumfin -- but I figure I oughta let'cha know, Pet --" "Oh wait, don't tell me. Right before you die on me, leaving me all alone in this escape pod -- and first of all, how effing dare you -- ya gonna tell me something all sappy and heartfelt? Like, how you never knew jackshit about raisin’ a kid, but you did your best and in the end ‘I really came ta care fer ya like my own, Petey, and I don’t wanna leave ya, even though it’s mostly all my fault in the first place -- ‘" "...Al'rite 'dats it. I had this whole' speech all rearin' to go, but ya just had to go and ruin it. Well, fergit' it; ya ain't worth the breath. And it was damn nice too, ah’ll have ya know." "Yeah, yeah...love ya too, Yondu."

~The two of them eventually getting out of the pod, (After crashing landing, with a lot of loud swears, whistling, and throwing the blame around. Because obviously this is Peter’s fault somehow.) and even despite the super close call, Peter then realizes where exactly they ended up and having a sudden second wind full of adventure and excitement!

“‘Ey, boy, getc’ha ass over here and help out with this ‘ere pod! We gotta get it runnin...unless o’course yer wanting to make dis ‘ere yer second Terra --” “Holy shit, Yondu.” “Quill, now, I expect ya’ to answer me when I’m orderin --” “Holy shit, Yondu! You are not going to believe our luck!” “What are ya shout-- oh hell, don’tcha tell me that that is --” “We almost died like, way more times than normal, and got lost in space on top of that, but oh my God, look! We’re actually here! We found it!” “Ya still have that piece’a junk, after all ‘dis time!? And durin’ all that, you ain’t never thought about -- I dunno, grabbing a lil’ more resources!?” “Dude, get over here, look, look, look! You said so yourself, back at the bar --” “I reckon I said a’ lotta things --” “You said this place could be real, and it is, man! It totally is! And we are the first ones to find it! The riches! The mystery! The women! It’s completely ours!” “...Remind me ‘gain why I ain’t dumped yer crazy ass years ago?”

Outside of the amusing interactions that ended up leading to the Guardians versions of “El Dorado”, imagine for a moment how you could take this crossover idea and turn it into something quite clever and original! I’m sure that everyone has their own ideas -- but since I’m always the one who loves coming up with adventures for these two. How about for a moment, you consider this here: ~The two of them, after being on the Trail We Blaze for quite a while, and having to rely on each other’s expertise to figure out the map -- including Yondu getting annoyed at first, because how on earth did his son ever talk him into trucking through wilderness of an unknown world, and “Ya sure ya even know where’th hell ya going, boy?”  -- eventually finding out the secrets of the uncharted planet. That being a long lost Centaurian tribe that automatically hails them both as Gods -- Yondu as the one that “Escaped His Chains” and Peter as "The One Who Carries The Light” ~Yondu being incredibly unnerved by this idea, mostly over Peter’s title, and when said, oh so stupid, son of his gets way too ahead of himself in terms of newfound fame -- “Petey, ya know that ther’ lil’ voice ‘dat folks have 'dat tell ‘em to quit when they’re ahead?”/”Uh, yeah --?”/”YA AIN’T GOT ONE, BOY.” -- he actually decides to go along with the wild and crazy idea of “Godhood”. Firstly, just to make sure that Peter doesn’t end up getting himself killed over all of this, and second because never had any warm feelings for his people; (And finding a full tribe of them isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing) so, if he can have a little bit of fun at their expense and also walk away rich...well, it couldn’t be all bad, right? ~Both Ravager Father and Son having to keep up their God like con for three whole days, until they can get some means of transport back to the Elector properly, and Yondu’s fun starting to melt away into full fledged worry. Because being around these people for one evening is bad enough, and obviously Peter doesn’t release what could happen if they are caught, and the repressed memories alone--! “No, seriously man, look at this -- having been hidden away for so long, aren’t you just the least bit curious  --” ”Hell no, boy! Don’t’yoo even move so much’asa muscle!” ”Hah, Yondu, c’mon, ya gotta be --” ”Wha I just tell ya?! And look’atcha! Yer moving! You are abs’olu’ly moving! And I just said not to!” “Whoa, hang on, I just --” “Ey, ey! Stop, right now, Quill! I mean it!” “P-Pops, ya can’t be --” “I swear ta’th stars, that if you so much as move an inch, I’ll show ya just how many of ‘dem “Eat’yoo” threats I really meant! Just. Stay. Put. Peter!” “For, three, friggin’ days?!”

~Peter eventually escaping out from underneath his dad’s watchful gaze, and exploring the village all on his own. And in doing so, bringing music to the Centaurian children, and teaching them how to dance, oh so awkwardly mind you, but the concept just being very sweet all the same. ~The mood ultimately shifting at the end of the big adventure, because of a Centaurian slaver secretly being among the tribe. And him knowing who both Peter and Yondu are -- who they really are -- and thus believing that they would fetch an amazing price along with the rest of the slaves, and  turning against them because of greed and selfishness. The exact same thing that originally brought both Father and Son to finding this place to begin with. And so, when that terrible truth comes to light, both Yondu and Peter end up throwing their original plans away -- because they may be a-holes, surely, but they’re not, as they would say, 100% dicks, and oh man do they really hate slavers -- and Yondu takes on the slaver single handed, while Peter frees the children and elders that had been captured and tortured while under this terrible Centaurian’s awful control. Meaning that, after all their greatness, the two of them end up being held as heroes among the people. Not Gods, but heroes. And somehow that just feels a whole hell of a lot better.

~The Centaurians going a bit further with their praise, and offering Yondu a place among their tribe because of how he destroyed the slaver with his own hands, and broke free all the chains that held them down. But Yondu simply shaking his head to their words, knowing well enough that his place is out there among the Stars -- with a certain annoying ass lil’ Lord of them right beside him as they both chart their own paths through the galaxy. ~Yondu throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder, and the two of them walking away from the village with massive grins on their faces.

Not only because they make damn fine heroes when they want to be, but also during the intense battle, both Father and Son managed to take whatever the slaver had on him. That being a fair amount of credits that will keep the Ravagers going for quite a while, but also some rather interesting coordinates to a nearby Slaver camp.

“Ah’m kinda feeling up to a Free Em and Burn Em run; what’cha say, son?” “I say that you completely read my mind, old man.”

Because maybe Peter and Yondu enjoy the occasional adventure in space, and maybe they both end up getting on each others nerves when that adventure doesn’t go according to plan, (Or goes too well?) and perhaps they completely adore the idea of relaxing with endless amounts wealth underneath them...

...but by the end of the day, they still remain the duo that they’ve always been. The ones that care too deeply and loves too easily, and will willingly protect and save all that they’re able to, including each other, even though they would deny all the way to the grave that they’re nothing more than Ravagers.

And don’t you know that they don’t have a heart?

But even as the Slaver Camp burns down to ashes, and Yondu and Peter manage to grant freedom to the ones that were denied it, and begin their next big adventure together with the rest of Ravagers crew...you know that no matter what comes their way; they won’t ever change.

Freeing slaves, burning camps, getting drunk off their asses and taking the occasional extra unit when no one is looking, they still are the actual worse kinds of heroes that the galaxy has ever known.

...But isn’t that one of the mains reasons that we adore these assholes so much? ;)

#peter quill #yondu #yondu udonta #gotg #guardians of the galaxy #My Stuff~ #Long Post~ #Very Long Post~ #This was originally supposed to be attached to Sevi's actual post. #But then it ended up getting too big. #And then my creativity started going all over the place. #And then that one little dialogue snippet ended up turning into this monster of a post. #And honestly I'm not sure what to consider this. #Fan fiction maybe? #Free Prose bullshit? #I'M NOT SURE WHAT THIS COULD BE CONSIDERED. #BUT I JUST KNOW THAT I HAD A REALLY FUN TIME WRITING IT OUT. #The idea of taking a crossover and twisting it to something slightly original is something that I've always adored. #So I couldn't resist doing something like this. #THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SEVI. #I HOPE YOU HAVE A FUN TIME READING IT! #YOU CREATED THE GREAT IDEA AND WELL I EXPANDED ON IT! #SO YEAH! #But seriously this turned out way different than what I had in mind. #I'm kinda proud of it in a way. #I hope you guys have fun reading it! #Lots of kisses to the fandom~ ♥

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (11/25/2020)?

Anonymous said: This week's floppies?

Anonymous said: This week’s comics?

Anonymous said: Have you read Red Hood #51 yet? It’s one of the best stories Jason has been in since Under the Red Hood and I don’t think I can go back to his normal stories after this

Anonymous said: God damn the Other History of the DC Universe has a pretty brutal call out of Superman, yet as a Superman fan I wasn’t offended or put off by it at all. Ridley specifically narrowed in on one of the key flaws of Superman, his need for public love and approval. What did you think of the portrayal of Supes?

Anonymous said: Thoughts on "The Other History of the DC Universe" and why it's already one of the greatest comics of all time?

Anonymous said: Thoughts on "Other History"?

X-Men #15: Heck yeah, Quiet Council discussing protocol, this is what I come to Jonathan Hickman’s X-Men for, and Cyclops getting his Captain America in Hickvengers moment.

X of Swords: Destruction: Look this rules and I guess I understood the Arakko story by the end but not the Otherworld/Captain Britain stuff, and it’s the former that’s gonna matter to Hick-Men going forward. But I don’t care if it put a ‘_ of 22′ counter across the top, if a crossover is for real going to demand you buy 22 comics in 3 months for you to see the entire core story you need to be screaming that from the rooftops with every single interview that it’s genuinely the whole thing that’s essential, because editorial claiming that you should totally get everything aside that’s not how crossovers have actually worked since the 90s no matter how many checklists and reading orders may be provided. This whole thing really sorta felt like the Infinity of this run, good stuff but ultimately Hickman serving a master beyond telling his own story - in this case trying to provide a forcible on-ramp from Marvel’s hottest book to all the ancillary related stuff.

Shang-Chi #3: This continues to be a really solid little mini with some poignant bits.

Power Pack #1: Haven’t read much if anything with them in it before, but as good as I could have hoped of Ryan North’s first post-Unbeatable Squirrel Girl Marvel gig.

Fantastic Four: Antithesis #4: Fine, but it would have been so much funnier if Waid’s last Marvel work before finally returning to DC had been that cancelled Squadron Supreme two-shot.

Daredevil #24: God so goooooood. And next issue’s next week?!

The Department of Truth #3: Imagine going literally any duration back in time, handing this to someone who’d read and even enjoyed his work, and explaining “THAT’S the level James Tynion is going to end up operating on”.

BANG!: My shop got the TPB this week of the recent mini by Kindt and Torres, and this is a top-notch reimagining of assorted 80s action/pseudo-pulp archetypes into something modern and strange and delightful, that while technically concluding somewhat tidily if the sales aren’t there is set up to go on for as long as the creative team has ideas for it. It taps into that America’s Best Comics/Planetary/Adventureman energy for a slightly different branch of genre storytelling, and even if like me it’s not an iteration you grew up with it’s definitely worth your money and attention.

Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Multiverse Who Laughs: It’s fine, whatever, just a buncha little Dark Multiverse stories...except for the last story, where the Twilight Zone-esque shocker final twist is that being black in America and thereby constantly experiencing the constant low-grade terror of the background radiation of systemic racism essentially acts as a vaccine against Scarecrow’s fear toxin, which...okay??? It’s written by a black man so it’s not as if I think it’s offensive, but particularly given that given the rules of the Dark Multiverse one of the three characters in there had to have imagined this possibility, and that then The Batman Who Laughs must’ve seen it and gone “Hell yes, all about this, definitely one of the 52 scariest of all possible universe”, it’s a serious candidate for weirdest comic of the year.

Legion of Superheroes #11: This is an excellent kickoff to a 3 or 4-issue arc so I have absolutely no idea how it’s going to reach some kind of season finale next month.

Action Comics #1027: Romita Jr.’s deteriorating by the day but I did like his take on the Phantom Zone, and I feel like this while taking it a bit farther than I’d prefer still convincingly sells the idea of Superman just being absolutely fed up after a truly awful day.

Justice League Dark #28: So is this the end of the run, Future State notwithstanding? Shocking how coherently it held together through the transition in writers, and I really hope it says and so does Ram V to take it in a direction wholly his own.

Wonder Woman #767: Substantially improved now that it’s not working off the completely bizarre and increasingly uncomfortable ‘buddy-cop’ premise.

Red Hood #51: GOOD NOW?! I checked it out because of the rec above and because I was curious how someone would try and salvage the concept post-Lobdell, and while it obviously isn’t literally by him, Shawn Martinbrough and Tony Akins are for all the world doing a Christopher Priest Relaunch with this tonally and aesthetically; I think it’s even a direct sequel to Priest’s Batman: The Hill oneshot from decades ago. I sure hope this isn’t a two-issue filler run with the book either cancelled or reshuffled after Future State, because this has all the makings of an excellent crime comic.

Suicide Squad #11: I’ll probably check out Taylor’s Revolutionaries book once that happens, so I guess mission accomplished. Fine little run.

The Other History of the DC Universe #1: I heard someone on Twitter say this is the best thing that’s come out of superhero comics since HoXPoX, and I don’t know if I’m on that level with it but that is absolutely a fair conclusion. I’ll be honest, I had measured expectations here from having seen some of Ridley’s past comics work - I figured it’d be a perfectly solid book with a few standout moments, but instead it throws out all the haymakers in the world and emerges as one of my favorite comics of 2020, even given we’re only seeing the one issue this year. I can only judge so much because it feels like a lot of what we see in this debut is going to be completely reframed through the perspectives of other characters in subsequent entries, but standalone this is a brutal, intimate, brilliant character study set against the backdrop of a hazy dreamscape vision of the history of DC reformatted as needed to fit the concerns in play here (though the dates presented are so specific I wonder if aspects of this are leftovers of the original version of 5G), and probably as close as we’re going to see to a ‘trilogy capper’ to The Golden Age and New Frontier. That’s why the take on Superman here works, as much a product of the worst of his mass-consciousness image as the Superman of DKR but meshed with a profound understanding of what makes him tick as a character that makes the inherently compromised version on display here palatable, and a believable extrapolation of the Silver/Bronze Age’s version of him when that’s the era this series is thus far working as a contrast to. And god, the art. I always liked him fine enough, but even with finishes by Andrea Cucchi and colors by Jose Villarrubia I never could have imagined Giuseppe Camuncoli putting out the likes of this, and Steve Wands’s lettering is doing at least equal legwork in defining the look of the book. There have been several impressive titles out of Black Label at this point - Last Knight on Earth, Rorschach, Strange Adventures, and especially Harleen - but nothing else has come close to demonstrating the potential power of the imprint as a vehicle for creators taking this iconography and doing something radical and unrestrained and phenomenal with it.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

[knifeonmars]

Capsule Reviews, February 2021

Here's some things I've been reading.

The Curse of Brimstone 

DC's New Age of Heroes books, emerging from the beginning of Scott Snyder's creative-flameout-as-crossover-event Metal, mostly constituted riffs on Marvel heroes like the Fantastic Four (in The Terrifics) or the Hulk (in Damage). The Curse of Brimstone is a riff on Ghost Rider. It's... uneven. The first volume is generally pretty good, and when Phillip Tan is drawing it, as he does the first three and a half issues, it's gorgeous and unique, when he departs though, the quality takes a nose dive. None of the replacement artists, including the great Denis Cowan, can quite fill his shoes, and the story gets old fast. Guy makes a deal with the devil (or rather, a devil-like inhabitant of the "Dark Multiverse" as a not horribly handled tie-in to the conceits of Metal), realizes it's a raw deal, and rebels. The characters are flat, lots of time is spent with the main character's sister haranguing him to not use his powers (it is, in my humble opinion, something of a cardinal sin to have a character whose primary role is telling other characters to stop doing interesting things), too many potboiler "I know you're still in there!/I can feel this power consuming me!" exchanges, a couple of underwhelming guest spots (including a genuinely pointless appearance by the old, white, boring Doctor Fate) too many flashbacks, and not enough of the action. There's potential in the classic demonic hero rebelling plotline and its link to the liminal spaces of the DC universe, forgotten towns and economic depression, but the wheels come off this series pretty much as soon as Tan leaves. The really disappointing this is that the series is clearly built as an artistic showcase, so after Tan's shockingly early departure, the main appeal of the series is gone and there's nothing left but the playing out of an obviously threadbare story.

Star Wars - Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery

I don't care much about Star Wars these days, and I think that most of the old Expanded Universe was, as evidenced by Crimson Empire, pretty bad. Death, Lies, and Treachery, is that rare Star Wars EU comic which is actually good. John Wagner writes and he's in full-on 2000 AD mode, writing Boba Fett as a slightly more unpleasant Johnny Alpha (who is like a mercenary Judge Dredd, for those unfamiliar) right on down to the appearance of a funny alien sidekick for one of the characters. The main attraction is Cam Kennedy's art though, along with his inimitable colors: this might be the best looking Star Wars comic ever. The designs are all weird and chunky, with an almost kitbashed feeling that captures the lived in aesthetic of classic Star Wars, and the colors are one of a kind. Natural, neutral white light does not exist in this comic, everything is always bathed at all times in lurid greens or yellows, occasionally reds, and it looks incredible. In terms of "Expanded Universe" material for Star Wars, this hits the sweet spot of looking and feeling of a piece, but exploring the edges of the concept with a unique voice. It's great. I read this digitally, but I'd consider it a must-buy in print if I ever get the chance at a deal.

Zaroff

Zaroff is a French comic (novel? novella?). It's like 90 pages and it delivers exactly on its premise of "Die Hard starring the bad guy from The Most Dangerous Game." It's pretty good. Count Zaroff, he of the habitual hunting of humans, turns out to have killed a mafia don at some point, and after miraculously escaping his own seeming death at the end of the original story, finds himself hunted by the irate associates of this gangster, who have brought along Zaroff's sister and her kids to spice things up. Zaroff not only finds himself the hunt, but he also has to protect his estranged family as they struggle to survive. Nothing about this book or its twists and turns is likely to surprise you, but I don't think being surprised is always necessary for quality. Zaroff delivers on pulpy, early-20th century jungle action, is gorgeously rendered, and the fact that Zaroff himself is an unrepentant villain adds just enough of an unexpected element to the proceedings and character dynamics that it doesn't feel rote. There's a couple of points, ones typical of Eurocomics, which spark a slight sour note, such as some "period appropriate" racism and flashes of the male gaze, but for the most part these are relatively contained. It's good.

Batman: Gothic

Long before Grant Morrison did their Bat-epic, they wrote Batman: Gothic, an entirely different, but then again maybe not so different, kind of thing. It starts off with what must be called a riff on Fritz Lang's film, M, only where that story ends with a crew of gangsters deciding they cannot pass moral judgment on a deranged child-murderer, in Morrison's story they go ahead and kill him, only for the killer to return years later to rather horribly murder all of them as a warmup for a grandiose scheme involving unleashing a weaponized form of the bubonic plague on Gotham City as an offering to Satan. Along the way it turns out that said villain, one Mr. Whisper, is a former schoolmaster of Bruce Wayne's, who terrified the young Batman in the days before his parent's deaths. It's an earlier Morrison story and it shows. Certain elements presage their later Batman work; Mr. Whisper as a satanic enemy recalls the later Doctor Hurt, and the cathedral Mr. Whisper built to harvest souls recalls what writers like Morrison, Milligan, and Snyder would do concerning Gotham as a whole years later.The art, by Klaus Janson, is spectacular. If you're familiar at all with his work collaborating with Frank Miller you'll see him continuing in a similar vein and it's all quite good, even when he stretches beyond the street milieu which most readers might know him from. There's one particular sequence where Janson renders a needlessly complicated Rube Goldberg machine in motion that manages to work despite being static images. The writing by Morrison though, is not their finest. The M riff doesn't last as long as it could, and Mr. Whisper's turn in the latter half of the story from delicious creepy wraith to a cackling mass murderer who puts Batman in an easily escaped death trap feels like something of a letdown from the promise of the first half of the book. Gothic is good, but not, in my opinion, great. It's certainly worth checking out for Morrison fans however, and I imagine that someone well-versed in his latter Batman stuff might be able to find some real resonance between the two.

Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters

For a long, long time, Longbow Hunters was THE Green Arrow story. It is to Green Arrow as TDKR is to Batman, deliberately so. Mike Grell wrote and drew the reinvention of the character from his role as the Justice League's resident limousine liberal to a gritty urban vigilante operating in Seattle over the course of these three issues, which he'd follow up with a subsequent ongoing. Going back to it, it certainly merits its reputation, but its far from timeless. Grell's art is unimpeachable absolutely incredible, with great splashes and spreads, subtle colors, and really great figure work. The narrative is almost so 80's it hurts though, revolving around West Coast serial killers, cocaine, the CIA and the Iran-Contra scandal, and the Yakuza, and it's hard to look back at some of this stuff without smirking. The story begins with a teenager strung out on tainted coke sprinting through a window in a scene that's right out of Reefer Madness. In the cold light of a day 30+ years later, parts of it look more than a little silly. The 80's-ness of it all doesn't stop with that stuff though, even the superhero elements smack of it. Green Arrow realizes that he's lost a step and has be to be shown a way forward by an Asian woman skilled in the martial arts (recalling Vic Sage's reinvention in the pages of The Question), and Black Canary gets captured and torture off-panel for the sake of showing that this is real crime now, not the superhero silliness they've dealt with before. The treatment of Black Canary here is pretty markedly heinous, it's a classic fridging and Grell's claims that he didn't intentionally imply sexual assault in his depiction of her torture is probably true, but still feels more than a little weak considering how he chose to render it.The final analysis is that this book is good, but it exists strictly in the frame of the 1980's. If you're a fan of Green Arrow, there are worse books to pick up, or if you're interested in that era of DC Comics it's more than worth it, but as a matter of general interest I wouldn't recommend it very highly.

SHIELD by Steranko

Jim Steranko is sort of the prodigy of the early Marvel years, a young guy who came up through the system, blossomed into an incredible talent, and then left the company, and by and large the industry, behind. He would go on to dabble in publishing, work in other mediums, and generally kick around as the prodigal son of Marvel Comics. This collection, of both his Nick Fury shorts in the pages of Strange Tales and the four issues he drew of the original Nick Fury solo series, charts Steranko's growth as an artist. The book starts off with Steranko working from Jack Kirby's layouts with Stan Lee's dialogue and writing, and Steranko might be the one guy in history for whom working off of Kirby's blueprints is clearly holding him back. The first third or so of this collection really isn't much to write home about, as Steranko is obviously constrained by someone else's style, and at the end of the day those early stories still read as somewhat uninspired pulp compared to the highlights of early Marvel. There are flashes though, of techniques and ideas, which foreshadow what Steranko is capable of, and when he finally takes over as solo writer/artist it's like he's been unleashed. He immediately has Nick Fury tear off his shirt and start throwing guys around over psychedelic effects. He writes out most of Kirby and Lee's frankly uninspired boys' club supporting cast, he makes Fury visibly older, wearier, but also so much cooler. It's the birth of Nick Fury as a distinctly comic book super spy.By the time he finishes wrapping up the previous writers' plotline with Hydra and Baron von Strucker, Steranko is firing on all cylinders. By the time it gets to Steranko's Fury solo series, he's somehow surpassed himself, turning in effects, panel structures, and weird stories which make the earlier installment about a suit-wearing Man from UNCLE knockoff and its strict six-panel layouts look absolutely fossilized.I can't recommend this collection highly enough for any fan of the artform, even if the stories themselves might not be everyone's cup of tear. It's truly incredible to watch Steranko emerge as an artist over the course of this single collection. The book itself has a few problems, it's not the most elegantly designed in its supporting materials and index, but the content of it more than outweighs that. It's great stuff.

#capsule reviews #comics

[angelofrainfrogs]

Essence of the Spirit (Ch. 1)

Fandoms: The Bartimaeus Trilogy and Lockwood & Co. (Crossover)

Description: During an assignment in the government archives, Nathaniel, Bartimaeus, and Kitty come across a scrying glass that’s a portal to another world—a world where Spirits aren’t made of magic and essence, but are the sorrowful souls of those dearly departed. However, before Nathaniel and Kitty can enlist the help of Lockwood and Co. to get home, they must convince the ghost-hunters they mean no harm—a task made difficult when it comes to the obviously unhuman Bartimaeus at their side.

Rating: K+

Genre: General/Humor

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476073/chapters/61797229

A/N: This is a crossover I've been working on for quite a while, and I'm excited to finally share it! A few notes before you get started reading: This takes place in a “Nathaniel Lives" alternate ending to Ptolemy's Gate, meaning that Nathaniel survived the battle with Nouda. It's been a few years since then, so Nathaniel and Kitty are meant to be about 19-20 in this fic. Lockwood & Co. are fresh off the events of The Creeping Shadow when this fic takes place, but haven't been through the events of The Empty Grave. I love trying to combine the worlds of Jonathan Stroud, and I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Chapter 1

Nathaniel shivered and crossed his arms tightly. His sweater did little to stave off the cold in the government vaults, and he’d been down there for hours.

“Ooh, it does feel a bit nippy in here, doesn’t it?”

Nathaniel glanced to his left and found Bartimaeus pretending to shiver along with him, wearing a puffy jacket so big it nearly swallowed up Ptolemy’s small frame serving as the djinni’s current guise. The magician rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well Bartimaeus wasn’t bothered by this insignificant amount of cold.

Bartimaeus met Nathaniel’s gaze and grinned. “Want me to light a fire? It would make the room nice and toasty!”

“Yes, and burn us all up in the process,” Kitty snapped from Nathaniel’s other side. She was bent over a large wooden box, busying herself with sifting through various items of unknown magical origin. She paused momentarily to glare at the djinni. “With all the documents in this stuffy room, one spark would light the whole place up in seconds.”

“No need to get tetchy; it was merely a suggestion!” Bartimaeus responded, sounding offended, making the puffy jacket disappear with a wave of his hand to reveal the jeans and grey t-shirt he’d dubbed his “modern” outfit underneath.

“It was a bad one, and you know it.” Kitty went back to rummaging around in the box. “Can either of you make yourselves useful and help me find this stupid thing? Nathaniel, remind me what we’re even looking for again?”

“Um, let me check,” Nathaniel replied, uncrossing his arms and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out an index card and read, “’A small, rounded grey disc.’ Be careful rooting around for it, though; supposedly those who have touched disc have… ‘disappeared?’” Nathaniel frowned. “If that’s the case, I don’t know why they’d leave it at the bottom of a box, lumped in with a bunch of other magical artifacts…”

“Why do humans make any of the decisions that they do?” Bartimaeus mused. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “5,000 years coming and going from this dreadful Earth, and I still haven’t the faintest idea.”

Nathaniel pointedly ignored him, silently reading over the index card again.

Two years after the Makepeace Incident, as the attempted overthrow of the government and subsequent near-takeover by magical spirits had become known, Nathaniel was fully resituated into his job as Information Minister. Once he’d recovered from his miraculous survival, there was talk of him moving up in the ranks, and even mention of him taking on the role of Prime Minister someday. But after everything he’d been through, Nathaniel realized he truly didn’t want the immeasurable power that came with leading an entire country. All he wanted was to have a stable job that kept him busy, with his newfound companion Kitty by his side.

Nathaniel never planned to see Bartimaeus again, figuring that after all the djinni had done for him and the world, he deserved a long rest. But, to his surprise, the time they spent bonded together (not to mention Kitty’s visit to the Other Place) had sparked a strange desire for Bartimaeus to want companionship from the two of them. Of course, until a way to freely move back and forth from the Other Place was discovered, Bartimaeus could only visit through a Summoning. So, the djinni agreed to be occasionally summoned to Earth by his familiar master under the strict condition that Nathaniel would release Bartimaeus whenever he wished.

This arrangement suited everyone just fine. Nathaniel had to admit that being so closely connected to the djinni’s essence created an irrevocable bond between them; he often felt as though a part of him was missing whenever Bartimaeus rested in the Other Place. There were so many things about Bartimaeus and Spirits in general that Nathaniel wanted to learn, and the snarky djinni was more than willing to divulge this information to him and Kitty in his own time. The trio still argued constantly, but their words were now only full of playful banter; a mutual understanding between them assured that no one truly wanted to hurt each other anymore.

It was during one of Bartimaeus’ visits that Nathaniel had been tasked to go down to the government vaults and locate an item of interest for Internal Affairs to review. Kitty wanted to help, and her new position in the government, as well as her close relationship with Nathaniel, allowed her to aid him with this task. While Kitty never wanted to be too embroiled in politics, she found success and a sense of worth as the official liaison between the members of Parliament and the common people. Nathaniel had been extremely vocal about Kitty’s efforts in helping take down Nouda, giving Kitty a notoriety that allowed her to have a hand in a lot more things than would normally be expected from her job title alone.

Thus, the trio found themselves down in the dusty government vaults. Kitty immediately set to work rifling through boxes upon their arrival and, seeing as she was on a mission, Nathaniel and Bartimaeus knew not to get in her way unless she asked for assistance.

“Wait, I might not need your help after all!” Kitty suddenly exclaimed. With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself back onto her feet. A circular object was clutched in her right hand, barely wider than the length of her palm. It was wrapped in a black cloth that had begun to fall off in one place, revealing an outer edge to the grey disc laced with an intricate pattern.

“Those are runes!” Nathaniel said excitedly, peering closely at the exposed edge. “Like from a summoning circle, but… off, somehow.”

“Interesting,” Bartimaeus agreed, his golden eyes lighting up with curiosity.

Kitty laid the disc on top of another box and carefully pulled the cloth away, revealing a scrying glass covered in strange markings on the outer circle. The three of them stared at the disc, trying to decipher what it was and, more importantly, what it was used for.

“It seems like a combination of runes for a typical summoning, some Ptolemaic markings of a reverse summoning circle, and…” Nathaniel wrinkled his nose in confusion, pointing to a symbol scratched near the edge of the disc. “…something else. I’m not sure what that symbol means. Bartimaeus, care to enlighten us?”

“What, that one?” Bartimaeus raised an eyebrow. “That’s the Greek word for ‘stay!’ Come on, Nat; this is kids’ stuff!”

“No, not that one!” Nathaniel jabbed his finger a little closer. “That one!”

“The Egyptian symbol for water?”

“No!”

“The Greek word for-”

“I can read Greek!” Nathaniel let out a growl of frustration. Bartimaeus knew just how to push his buttons, especially when he wasn’t in the mood for it. The slightly upward tilt of the djinni’s mouth made Nathaniel glare harder. “This symbol right here.”

For a second, dead silence filled the room. Nathaniel swiveled between Kitty and Bartimaeus’ shocked expressions, eventually casting his gaze downwards to where his index finger pressed firmly against the grey disc. Another beat of silence passed, and then Kitty began to shout.

Nathaniel couldn’t hear her words clearly, for his mind was solely focused on his hand currently being pulled into the center of the disc. The rest of his arm followed suit, flattening and twisting as if it were liquid being pulled down a drain. He felt only a numb tingling sensation, and for that he was grateful. If he was about to die, he’d rather it be fast and painless.

A tug on Nathaniel’s other hand made him glance back to find Bartimaeus clutched onto him with an iron grip. The djinni pulled as hard as he could, and this did cause Nathaniel much discomfort; he felt as though his arm might be ripped out of its socket. Kitty firmly grasped him around the waist and tried to aid Bartimaeus in moving Nathaniel away from the dangerous object.

But the pull of the disc was far stronger than the combination of a determined human and a powerful spirit. Before he could utter any poignant final words, the rest of Nathaniel’s body was sucked into the disc and the world went black around him.

***

When Nathaniel opened his eyes, his first thought was that the afterlife looked extremely dull. He’d expected white, pearly gates or some other fantastical sight, but the area he laid in was dark, dingy, and only marginally warmer than the government vaults. He felt a pressure upon him and turned his head to see Kitty laying on his back, arms still clamped tightly around his waist. Her eyes were shut, face twisted in an expression of fear and determination.

“Kitty?” Nathaniel said quietly. He made a move to stand and realized that Bartimaeus’ hand remained tightly around his own. The magician gave a small sigh of relief; if the djinni was present, it meant that Nathaniel was still alive. It also meant that they weren’t completely defenseless.

“It amazes me how you continue to do such stupid things after all this time,” Bartimaeus commented dryly, his eyes glowing in the dim light as he wrenched his hand back. His intense glare made Nathaniel grimace; he could tell Bartimaeus was legitimately upset with him.

“I agree, and we need to have a serious talk about that again… but that’s not our main concern right now,” Kitty said, disentangling herself from Nathaniel. Bartimaeus stood and held out his hands; Nathaniel grabbed one, Kitty took the other, and in one swift motion, the djinni pulled them both to their feet. As the trio examined their surroundings, they realized a rather startling fact:

They were not alone.

A pudgy boy sat at one of the desks that formed a semi-circle around the room. He had round spectacles, wide, bright blue eyes, and a pale-lipped mouth that hung open like a fish. His gaze swiveled to each member of the trio, trying to take them all in at once.

“Oh, uh… hello!” Nathaniel quickly regained his composure, straightening out his shirt and puffing himself up like a person with authority. He flashed a smile, but the boy simply stared. Nathaniel noted that he appeared to be in his mid-teens. The magician took a step forward and extended a hand. “We apologize for the intrusion but… we seem to have found ourselves here accidentally.”

“…I can see that,” the boy responded, slowly getting to his feet. The trio watched him intently as his eyes flickered to a door at the other end of the room. “And how exactly did you end up here?”

“Well…” Nathaniel trailed off, wondering how much he could reveal. His work within the government vaults was top secret and couldn’t be shared with just anyone he came across.

“Magic,” Bartimaeus said, and Nathaniel snapped his head towards him. The djinni wore an indecipherable expression, though Nathaniel could tell by his posture—arms crossed, hip jutting out slightly, eyes scanning the boy up and down—that Bartimaeus was sizing this kid up to determine how much of a threat he was.

“…Magic, huh?” The boy looked mildly offended as he removed his glasses and rubbed them furiously on the bottom of his sweatshirt. “Right. Well… I know someone who’s quite skilled in magic, so… I’m just going to pop upstairs and find him.”

The boy calmly repositioned his glasses onto his nose. Then, with a surprising burst of speed, he suddenly bolted for the door. Kitty took off after him, but the boy was already too far ahead of her and slammed the door in her face. Kitty smacked a fist against it with a growl of frustration, while Nathaniel looked at Bartimaeus questioningly.

“Why didn’t you go after him?!” he asked. The djinni shrugged.

“He’s just a human,” Bartimaeus responded. “Maybe he’s getting help, maybe he’s getting the authorities. If he causes trouble when he comes back, I’ll take care of him. Right now, our most important task is to try to find a way out of here. Since that disc was obviously a portal, I suggest we see if there’s a matching one somewhere in this room.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips but couldn’t argue with Bartimaeus’ logic. He glanced at Kitty, who had already busied herself with trying to pick the door lock with a hairpin pulled from one of her jacket pockets. Nathaniel sighed and turned back to Bartimaeus; with a nod, they began their search for a way home.

***

Read Chapter 1. (You are here.) 

#The Bartimaeus Trilogy #the bartimaeus sequence #lockwood & co #crossover #fic #fanfic #bartimaeus #nathaniel #kitty jones #anthony lockwood #george cubbins #lucy carlyle #the skull #essence of the spirit #fanfiction #ao3 #phantomhivemast3r #midna3452

[lilaclily00]

The Party That Went From Haunted to Worse: A Summerween Tale

Danny hates his life sometimes. And ghost portals. And his little sister. It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

I thought this was going to just... never see the light of day like most of my WIPs, but AU!Ghost August (Day 11: Crossover) gave me the drive to actually continue, finish, and post this monstrosity. Thanks for the excuse to put this out to the world!

This is the original post for the OC, and here’s the link to this story on AO3.

There's some Zalgo Text in here, so at the end I’ll have the... translations? Is that the right word? It looks better in AO3, though. :(

Thank you for helping me with this, @goinggoblin!!!

LET’S GOOO

-_-_-_ (I don’t think there’s horizontal lines anymore? Yikes)

Dani—known as Ellie around here—handed over the last of the fake spider-webbing. “There you go, Mabel.”

Mabel cheerfully thanked her from the ladder rungs, then turned back to stick it to the wall. “Now time for the paper stuff!”

“Are you sure it's okay to just...” Danny gestured around at the incomplete decorations strung around the designated party room.

Mabel waved him off over her shoulder, tacking up a cutesy paper skeleton onto the wall with her other hand, then a sheet ghost next to it. “Of course! We invited you!”

Ellie nudged Danny—well, it was much too hard of an elbowing to be classified as a nudge by most people, but not for them. “Lighten up, bro. It's not very often you get to go to parties, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” He knew she didn't mean his popularity—the fact it didn't exist—but that he just didn't have the time or energy for it most of the time. He wouldn't have gone to anything like this if she hadn't dragged him along as an excuse to take a break from ghost hunting.

Back in junior year, she’d sent him letters and photos from one of her longest stops in her travels, a dinky town called Gravity Falls, Oregon. She became good friends with a pair of twins around her age there, and they all stayed in touch afterwards. The twins invited her to hang out plenty since then, but this was the first time she told Danny to come along.

He had a complicated relationship with Halloween, considering the Fright Knight incident and all the kids and even adults that had started dressing up as Phantom (to varying levels of success and cringe). However, he had to admit he was intrigued with the idea of Summerween, especially when it was so far from Amity Park that its ghosts and fanbase would be very unlikely to interfere.

 Even just thinking that, though, made him wonder if he just jinxed himself.

 “Mabel,” they heard her twin call from the residential part of the Mystery Shack, “there's something wrong with the wig!”

 Mabel shook her spiky, blue-haired head, hands on her red-uniformed hips. “No, there isn't! I would know!” She wagged her finger towards the visiting pair. “I'll go help him, so don't go anywhere!” She ran off, nearly tripping over her own costume.

 “They really like to play up the twin thing, huh?” Danny asked his little sister in the silence. Someone had to acknowledge that the party's hosts were dressing up as Thing 1 and Thing 2. (He wasn’t sure what kinds of friends he suspected Ellie would make, but these two were a surprise.)

“At least they don't feel the need to be a walking pun at every opportunity,” she retorted, flipping back her Batman cape dramatically.

“I always am a walking pun. This is my truest self!” Danny gestured to his own costume, a classic zombie attire with green skin and fake blood everywhere.

“Har har.”

He looked over at the little pile of “spooky” images waiting on the top of the ladder, and took his pick of a large paper spider. He glanced back to the doorway where the twins disappeared off to, and quickly floated up to tape it to the ceiling with a grin.

“How are you going to explain how you got that there?” she giggled as he hovered back at her side.

“I won’t,” he replied smugly, touching ground. Just in time, too, as both Dipper and Mabel reappeared, now with their outfits and hair matching.

Mabel chirped, “If you guys help me with these last touches, this place will be perfect just in time for the party!”

Dipper fiddled with his sleeves, giving her a crooked smile. “At your orders, Mabes.”

-_-_-_

Danny was surprised by how many people actually showed up to what he expected to be a relatively small affair. Dipper had informed him that he and his sister lived in California for most of the year; despite that, it seemed the pair were very popular in their second home, Gravity Falls. Mabel introduced him to several of her friends, shouting over the loud pop music booming out the speakers, and he didn’t remember a single name.

Da—Ellie, he kept forgetting to call her that—was familiar with quite a few people, too. She stuck close to her big brother, though, until he ordered her to hang out with her friends instead. He appreciated the sentiment, but he could handle being by himself at a party.

Right?

He tried to dance for a few songs, but it wasn’t feeling natural. He then went to the refreshment tables for a jack-o-lantern cupcake. Maybe he needed to try to socialize after all. Hm, that one redheaded girl Mabel introduced to him seemed cool. He scanned the area for her face—

Wait. 

His eyes narrowed, studying the long white hair halfway across the room. It wasn’t as glowy as usual, but he’d know that hair anywhere. He pocketed the cupcake wrapper and pushed his way through the crowd. Finally, his ghost sense said something as he crossed the dance floor.

"Hey, ghost girl!" he shouted over the music. Her head turned 180 like an owl, pigtails following slightly slower than physics demanded, then she calmly turned the rest of her body to him. Her ever-present blank, wide-eyed stare bored into him, and never strayed, as she easily swerved around the dancing kids toward him. He noticed that she made an effort of walking on the ground rather than floating.

"Hi, zombie," she replied, the slightest smile on her face showing she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was never really scared of him or angry at him. If anything, she seemed to like talking to him. He supposed it was because he was among the closest to her physical age in the Ghost Zone.

He was not going to be friendly, though, and showed it by crossing his arms at her. "What are you doing here?"

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I’d like to ask you that. You hardly ever leave your lair.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows, then glanced around in case anyone heard her. “Do you mean Amity Park?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned warily. Considering their past interactions, it seemed like a genuinely curious question. She wasn’t the type to use his absence as a chance to cause chaos back home. (If only the other ghosts were the same way.) “I got invited to hang out here for the weekend. And I don’t think it counts as my lair.”

“I think it does,” she replied with the barest of shrugs, still staring at him, unblinking. “I’m here ‘cause a door opened up in the woods right by here," she added. "There was a flyer for this party taped up on a tree. It said there was gonna be cookies."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "You can't even eat human cookies." She finally blinked as that registered, and her gaze broke to look at the ground as she wilted under the weight of her disappointment. Drama queen. "And I know you're planning to scare the kids here, if you haven't already started. C'mon, let's go."

"What?" She flicked her eyes back up to him, igniting a small light in her irises, disrupting her otherwise unglowy appearance. Her entire face slowly, ever so slowly, began to twist clockwise on her head. "It's Summerween!"

He held up a hand; he knew exactly what she was going to argue. "I know it's like Halloween, but it's still the wrong date. We agreed on no mass hauntings outside of October 31st."

Her eyebrows just so slightly scrunched, about the closest she could get to looking angry. "This isn't a very big party."

He had to give her that; it was bigger than he expected, but still only a few dozen, which potentially wasn't enough to count as a mass of people. And everyone here was around their age, which was less worrying than her chasing down little kids just for a laugh. 

Her big, empty eyes were unsettling, yet they nearly pleaded with him. He couldn't stand when she did that. He rubbed the side of his face in defeat, forgetting for a second about his zombie makeup. "Oh, fine! Only in this party. And nothing too scary. Otherwise, you go right into the thermos."

"Sounds good to me," she chirped, mouth curled into a small smile by her ear instead of her chin.

"Oh, do you guys know each other?" Danny glanced over to see the hosts themselves come from behind him. He turned back, tapping his cheek at the ghost. She knew the signal, and covered her face to recover its natural orientation.

"Kind of," he told Dipper.

The ghost girl uncovered her face, and smiled shyly at the twins. "I'm Lily. Nice to meet you." Danny raised his eyebrows at her; this whole time, she had an actual name?

"I'm Mabel! Lily, I love your costume!" Mabel squealed, hands smushing her own face. "You're so cute and creepy and ah!"

"Yeah, you did a great job," Dipper added, quiet admiration on his face as he quickly studied her appearance. Danny guessed he was wondering why the wig and body paint looked so realistic. Mabel did a fantastic job with their own costumes, but it was hard to make poofy, blue wigs not look like wigs. "I'm Dipper, by the way."

"You should totally enter the costume contest!" Mabel added, hands hovering, as if itching to reach out and inspect Lily's dress. "It’s later tonight!"

"Oh, maybe I will," she said, eyes flickering between the twins. They fixed onto Dipper when he had looked back up to her face. After a few seconds of an impromptu staring contest, Dipper turned his eyes away, blinking and glancing at Danny, unsure of himself. 

Mabel seemed to not have noticed, as she continued rambling to Lily, who patiently listened, empty eyes directed back to Mabel and small smile held up.

"She takes Halloween——er, and Summerween costumes very seriously," Danny told Dipper. "Pretty sure she'll try to creep the crap out of everybody here."

"Well, seems like she's actually good at it," the boy admitted with an awkward chuckle. "But hey, that's what this holiday is for, right?"

-_-_-_

Lily was right there, right in plain sight, swaying to the music by herself, but Danny knew she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Even now, she was beginning her haunting.

It was just little stuff. There were a few small spiders on the fake webs, real ones. The door opened automatically for newcomers. The jack-o-lantern cupcakes, once all smiling, now had one smiling evilly in the center of the platter while the rest wore a fearful frown. She was staring blankly at Dipper at every opportunity.

Danny had fetched his thermos soon after their conversation and clipped it to his belt. He tried to distract himself by talking to people, like the girl that turned out to be named Wendy, and bopping his head to the background beat. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on her and her effects. Why did his problems from home have to follow him everywhere? Why did he have to jinx himself?

He felt his sister ram into his back. "Danny, I sensed a ghost!"

"Yeah, so did I. It’s the white-haired girl. I worked out a deal with her," he immediately replied, sigh heavy and beyond his years.

Da—Ellie slowly shifted into a suspicious frown. "Wait, what? What kind of deal?"

"She gets to haunt the party for the night, and will peacefully return to the Ghost Zone after." Danny wilted under her glare. "Look, sh-she's even less harmless than the Box Ghost. She's all about the scare factor, doesn't try to hurt anyone—well, maybe makes them lose their sleep if they can't handle horror movies, but still. If I don't compromise here, she'll go for much bigger plans later to spite me. I promise I know what I'm doing!"

"Since when have you known what you're doing?" She shook her head, surely knowing how very offended he was by her comment. "This just doesn't sound like you, bro."

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "She doesn't operate the same way as most ghosts."

“So that made it okay to let loose a prankster ghost on these people?”

“Well, geez, it sounds terrible if you put it like that.”

She shook her head at him again before turning away with a dramatic cape twirl. He suddenly realized she does that at him a lot.

-_-_-_

 Something was off.

 Dipper had made all the necessary precautions for a Summerween party he could think of. He had left anti-magic wards hidden around the house—not unicorn hair strong, but still effective against most of what could possibly threaten a gathering like this. He’d cleared out the trash cans so the gnomes would have no reason to stick around. He locked up Gompers in the attic (he never proved to be dangerous, but that goat was terrifying).

But then when he went to take a break by a cobwebbed corner, he found real spiders on it. A lot of real spiders. The party lights, which were supposed to change color every few seconds, got stuck on red when he passed by them. The doors creaked open ominously when anyone came near them. He went to pour out some fruit punch, and the dispenser screamed when he pressed on it.

Every time he noticed one of these things, he glanced around him and immediately found that ghost girl staring straight at him.

Dipper ran to check the nearest ward, but it was still intact. However, there was something written next to it on the wall, in red.

You think you can keep me out?

Well, that wasn’t good.

The only suspect so far was the girl—Lily, right? Perhaps she wasn’t just dressed up as a ghost after all. But she looked too solid to be a ghost, though he hadn’t seen anyone actually try to touch her yet, and these things that were happening just didn’t have the same MO as the ghosts described in the Journals or those he faced in the past. But what other kinds of supernatural creatures could do things like this? Which ones would?

Mabel poked his shoulder, startling him enough that he bumped against the wall. She didn’t laugh, however, her attention focused on his wig. Eyes narrowed, she slowly said, “Dipper, is there blood in your hair?”

He ripped the wig off his head. Red liquid seeped out of its roots, matting down the poofed hair. He hesitantly touched a finger to it and sniffed. It smelled like copper.

Mabel pulled her own off, and found the same result. Face scrunched up in disgust, she tossed it to him and ran off to the bathroom. He could hear the door creak much louder than normal even from here.

Lily was staring at him, a blank smile on her face.

A part of him chastised himself for coming to conclusions too fast, but what other conclusion was there? And performing an exorcism, if it came to that, wouldn’t hurt something that wasn’t a ghost, right?

Clearly, what he needed to do next was talk to this girl, find out her motives before her little act became big. Just in case, though, he’d need to pull out that new silver mirror first.

-_-_-_

Amity Park and Gravity Falls were not very similar, but Danny realized there was something in common between their townsfolk: they were somewhat clueless. Not that he eavesdropped that much into the different conversations on the edges of the dance floor, but it seemed hardly anyone had noticed the odd tension in the air, the invisible slimy feeling on their skin of the supernatural hiding in their midst. Something coming.

Or, well, that that paper spider he stuck to the ceiling had grown several times its original size and crawled over one of the ceiling lights.

Ellie was consoling Mabel, who stood by the refreshments without her wig on. She glanced over to him a couple times just to glare.

He was trying to not keep his focus on Lily too much for his own sanity, but his eyes didn’t listen to his brain. They kept roaming the crowd to keep track of her. She looked like she wasn’t doing anything, but…

The eyes of the various wall decorations followed him wherever he went. Distant screaming could barely be heard over the music, if he tried to listen, but it came from nowhere. More spiders poured out of abandoned plastic cups. (She really liked that aesthetic, apparently.) 

He only caught her in the act once at the refreshments table: she studied one of the Halloween-colored M&M cookies in her hand and threw it into her mouth. After a second, she pulled it back out, staring at it like it was the cause of all her problems. She disintegrated the cookie she couldn’t eat. When she turned away, all the other cookies had turned into oatmeal raisin.

How evil.

“Hey, Danny?”

He blinked and turned to see Wendy. She quirked her eyebrow at him. “What’s got you making that constipated face?”

He blinked at her even harder and she laughed. He huffed, scratching at his hair. “There’s just weird stuff going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, “this party’s totally haunted.”

“Actually—” He had enhanced hearing, and he still wasn’t sure he heard that right. “Yeah, it is. You noticed?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore.” She nodded to herself. “I thought I heard creepy laughing coming from the bathroom and there was nobody there. ‘I’m here’ was written on the mirror in blood, though. Once I came back out, more stuff just kept popping up. There’s definitely a ghost.”

Danny frowned. “And… why aren’t you freaked out?”

“Well, same reason you aren’t. Dipper’s gonna take care of it.”

Alarm bells rang in his head, drowning out that distant screaming. “What do you mean ‘take care of it’?”

She tilted her head quizzically. “Don’t you already know him? This is totally Dipper’s thing, knowing about the supernatural and saving people from it. He already took down ghosts before. He’s probably getting everything ready for an exorcism or something right now.”

Exorcism. Exorcism. His skin crawled at that word. Ellie was friends with a kid that performed exorcisms in his spare time?

He remembered that Lily had been pulling that constant-stare thing on Dipper before. She had stopped at some point, which meant Dipper was out of sight, which meant maybe he really was planning something to get rid of her. Permanently.

Wendy said, “Hey, man, you okay?” just loud enough to bring him back out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, uh, just need to find Dipper,” he muttered, turning away and quickly searching the room for his face. Where was that kid, where was he, where was he—?

He hadn’t noticed that the music had slowly quieted down until Mabel was shouting by the DJ table. “Hey, everybody! We’re gonna start the costume contest in five minutes! Come over here if you wanna be in it!” The lights flickered for a couple seconds. “Oh, that’s new! We’ll get Soos to fix ‘em!”

Okay, there’s Mabel. Where there’s Mabel, there’s likely a Dipper. Or maybe an Ellie. He figured he should probably talk to her, too, even if she’ll give him that look again, wondering how she shared the exact same DNA with his doofus self.

-_-_-_

Mabel watched as the chatter grew louder with her hands on her hips. “There you go, Dipdop, I moved up the contest. The sacrifices I make to my carefully planned schedules for you!” She turned back to the playlist and rose the volume. The song sounded strangely distorted and screechy and demented, causing everyone to cover their ears. She quickly stopped the music. “But I guess you’re right that things are getting out of hand.”

Yes, he was. The freaky little instances seemed to have gotten worse in the few minutes he had spent grabbing the mirror and Journal 3 upstairs. The fastest way to find the ghost: have her come to him.

Grenda and Candy came running up in their matching “party animals” costumes, along with a couple other kids they barely knew. Danny rushed to the table, eyes wide and much more awake than any zombie had the right to be. Dipper opened his mouth, about to turn that into an actual joke, but Danny beat him.

“Do you know anything about ghosts?” The words practically tumbled out of Danny’s mouth.

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah.”

“And how to defeat them?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your plan?”

Dipper considered Danny’s strangely serious face. Then, he said, “Make her come out, find out her motives and if there’s something we can do to make her leave. Trap her away if she doesn’t want to, and exorcise her as a last resort.”

Danny set his frown grimmer and grimmer as he spoke. The lights flickered. “I think you need to reconsider the severity of this haunting. I can’t let you—”

Click.

The lights all went out, and the room was an inkier black than it should’ve been on a warm summer Oregon night. Large objects screeched as they dragged across the floor, bumping into people. Dipper felt something crawl over his feet, heard the table in front of him slide away. Just over the random yelps and screams of the attendees, a dark laughter rang.

 They flicked back on. The tables, speakers, and party lights were all randomly located throughout the room. The attendees were stunned to silence, taking some seconds before their chatter began anew as they inspected their new surroundings.

 A girl with a white wig (it had to be her real hair) and painted blue skin (she didn’t have skin) slipped through the crowd, glancing between the three with that little smile gracing her face. “Can I join the costume contest?”

 Dipper couldn’t stop himself from setting a glare on her, gripping tighter the silver mirror behind his back. Mabel, who had more tact, plastered a grin on and said, “Of course! I invited you to do it, didn’t I?”

 Lily nodded and quietly took her place by Candy, who was not the only contestant staring at her warily. She ignored them all, eyes unfocused as she fiddled with one of her pigtails.

 Dipper glanced back over to Danny from the corner of his eye. “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told him quietly. “Just let me do my job.”

“Your job?” Danny hissed in return, far more offended than Dipper expected him to be. “Just let me talk to her—”

“What, do I look like I haven’t done this before?”

Danny tugged at his hair. “Listen to me! You need to change your plan!”

All the paper decorations promptly dropped from the walls, fluttering to the floor, except for the cutesy ghosts.

Mabel shouted over their quiet arguing, “Last call if you want to be in the contest!”

Ellie strode up, determination in her footsteps as she lined up beside Lily.

-_-_-_

Now that the music wasn’t playing, Danny could see people inspecting their surroundings a little more. Now that she wasn’t hidden among the crowd, Danny could see a few of those people second-guess Lily, watching her rock back and forth on her feet with a calculating eye. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If there was anyone else here like Dipper...

He had to give up on talking sense into the kid because the contest was starting. Mabel was doing it by applause, and he couldn’t hear anything else over it.

Mabel wrote down on a notepad (though he had no clue what she’d be writing down), nodding thoughtfully to herself. “Looks like it’s between Count Dracula,” she shouted, gesturing with her pen to a kid in an elaborate vampire costume then to Lily, “and the ghost! One more vote decides the winner!”

The other contestants moved aside, but not too far. Ellie glanced over to Danny as she stepped back a couple feet. She was planning something, he knew it. With how mad she was at him, he had the distinct feeling he should be running for what remained of his life.

Dipper pulled Danny’s arm back as the applause rang again. When it stopped, he spoke in a dangerously low voice. “You said you knew her. You said she would try to scare everyone.”

Danny bit his lip for a second. “I did say something like that, huh?”

Quiet fury grew in Dipper’s eyes. “Well, fine. If you’re not going to do anything—” The rest was drowned out by the applause roaring up again, startled shouts mixed in as the lights flickered again, but Danny could guess, and his heart dropped to his stomach as Dipper turned away without giving him a chance to reply.

“Dracula wins!” Mabel announced, and a cheer rose up once again. “But the rest of you were great, too!”

Ellie stepped back up to Lily when the claps died back down. “Sorry you lost,” she said.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replied amicably. “It wouldn’t really be fair if I won, anyway. I’m not a̙͈ ͖̩̠̬c̯͔̼t͚̮̗̙u̟͖͕a̻͙ ̼ll͙̙͎y̹ ̬͔̣̻̣w̠e̞̤ͅ ̪̖̦̤͍ͅ ̥ar͙͈i͈̳̰̜n̪̼̮ ͈ ̟̫͍̰͍ͅg̱ͅ ̟ ̦͇͓̻̹͇̼ ̝̯̦ ̹̬̟̱ ̭͈̠͇̟͖ ̗̤̯̮̭ a̬̯̰̦̞̪ͅ ̣̜͖ͅ ̬͚̪̫͎̰ c̫̗ ̜͕͕͇̤ ̤o ̥̮̺s̹̜͕͇t̬̘̮̼ ̗̞̥̣̖̼ ͇ ̣͓̹ u̹͖̙͙͇̠ ̼͉͓̰͙ ̝̯͍͙͍͓ ̭ ̤ ̖̠̠̙͖̮͕ ̜͔͔̮ ̖ ͚̤ͅ ̤ ̪̤̖͓̘͉ͅ ̭̳̜m̦̼̲̫ ̲̫͔̳̮͎ ̖̩̝̙̦͇ ̲̯̠͙̬ ̝ ̠͔̼͈͖ ̰̹ ̘͎̺̗ ̳̠̫̳̻̥ ̥͚̙͈̠͙ ̪̖͎̳̻ ͔͉̰͈̳ ̠ ͇̺̫ ͚̲̻̥͚͎̣ ̖̫̖̭ͅͅ ̩ ̩e͙͍͎̙̺̜.͇͍̩”

Lily’s hair and dress floated, revealing blobs of ectoplasm instead of legs. The lights went out, then returned in a dim, red hue. She was already up in the air, eyes glowing, face twisting. She raised her arms, and objects began to float at her command. Attendees screamed, almost loud enough to not hear the unsettling laughter coming from all sides. A couple of them tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted as he ran to her. He was holding a… small mirror? “What do you want, ghost?”

She abruptly turned her head to him, face upside-down. Her voice had a demonic overtone as she replied, “T͍̝o̗͙ͅ ̥m͈a͕̲k̶̼͙̻e̼̟̼ ̳̱y̨o҉͎̹u͔͇̬͟ ̼s̹̙cr͉̦͇̮̭͇͡e̺͓͖̱̤̗a̪͙͓̩̮͟m͢.͎̮̳̱̬̯”

“Come on, there has to be something else,” he insisted, hand gripping the mirror harder. Danny inched his way; that mirror had to be a trap of some kind, and he wasn’t going to let Dipper use it—not when Danny didn’t know if he could get her back out of it.

“I know what you don’t want,” Ellie shouted, holding out a Fenton Thermos. Wait—Danny felt for the thermos on his belt. It was gone. She stole his thermos. How did he not notice until now?!

Lily stared her down, but she didn’t look scared. “Y̘o̺͎͖̱u̖̜̳̭̺ ̸̣̭̥̦͉̙̭s̝͢h̨o͙̞u̠͓̰̙͉l̡͉̠̗̣̥̗d̯̩̮̦̯͎̗’̨v̰̘̹͞e̙͉̘̦̱ ̶̙us̻̩̪͎̝̯e̯̱̜̬̮̝̫d͕͢ ì̟t̗̻̬̯͕̪͘ ̝͉w̹̤̫h̞̼̫̹̘̲͍͢e̖ņ̦̹̬̣̫̱ ̗̟̺y̵̬̤͖͓̖o̰̯̪̟̼̥u̟̩̰̙͢ ̝̖͕̗́h̪̰͝a̖͍̲͉͡d͕̹ ͙͖̬͉͟t̻̗̠͈̝h͚͚̜̖͎̕ͅe̼̰͍ ̰̲̪̥c͏̟̞̝͓̫h̗̤͚̲͔̼a̯͎̳͇͙̝͈n̦̥̜̹͘ͅc̳̭ȩ,” she answered, holding her hand out at Ellie. She began to float off the ground, yelping as she flailed her arms and legs in the air. She lost her grip on the thermos as she suddenly began to spasm, as if fighting off a—no, she couldn’t be.

She stilled, eyes closed, then opened them. They were glowing ecto-green. She was dull and slack-jawed, staring off at nothing.

Danny couldn’t help the dread trickling into his chest. She wasn’t really...?

He stepped towards her, and she... glanced down at him? Oh, she didn’t.

She winked.

She did.

Danny felt a thrill of anger run through him—how could his own clone decide to act possessed and make all of this worse? (When did those two even get to plan this?!) It was clearly working, with how all the partygoers stared at her in horror, looking like they were about to pass out. 

“A̛̫̙̮n͏y̗͇o̩̝͇̫n͖̜̬͇͖͖e̳ ̣̱̙̭͓e̤͚͉͉̮l̢̞̦̟s͎̱͍͍̩e̪̭͘ ͈͡w͖͚̩̹͉͢a͇͔̘ņ͎̟̣̫n͈͉̕a̷̟̝̯̬͚  ̭̱͉̟͔͘p̷̙̬̮̫̲͈̞̼͇̜͇̎̐͊ͨͅ  l̜͖̲̀̇̚  ̼ ̤̄ a͙̻̲̰͂̋ͦ̎͌̏ ̬̘͍ͯ͝   ̙͎͚̊̆̆ͨ̚ ̝̟̎͑͐ͬ́ỵ̶͉͉̳ͨͥ̌͋̓ͅ         ̖͉͓̙ͮ͌̑ͤ̽?̡͎̦̭̩̙̰͎”

Danny was about to dive for the thermos and suck both of them in (Ellie absolutely deserved it too, now), but he saw Dipper holding up the mirror and beginning a chant from a thick book. He had to take care of that first. He tackled the boy to the ground. The mirror slid away, unbroken, and both of them scrambled to get up and grab it first. Danny won, barely, and Dipper tackled him in return.

“Give me that!” Dipper growled, furiously trying to pull the mirror out of Danny’s hands.

Danny elbowed him away. “No, we need to use the thermos!”

“Why?!”

 “Because—” he grunted as Dipper kicked him surprisingly hard— “it’ll work better!”

“And why should I believe you? You don’t care about stopping her!”

 “I never said I didn’t!” Dipper paused his fighting. “I said to change your plan because she doesn’t deserve to be killed or trapped forever, and I already know that!” Danny pushed the other boy off of him and stood up, brushing himself off. “The longer we argue, the more she’ll make everyone pee their pants.”

 “Okay, fine, we’ll use your thermos thing,” Dipper grumbled as he pushed himself back to standing. He sobered as he saw food flying around and Ellie still floating there, gawking into space. “You better be right.”

 “Of course I am.” 

Danny sprinted for the thermos. He turned it on the second his hand touched it. Lily and Ellie apparently heard its mechanical whine, as they both glanced at him, Lily wide-eyed in a different way than usual.

“I̙̻̺’̩͍m͇͔͢ ͅṋ̰̮̦͎͡ͅo̞̤t̩̯̰̖̱͖͖ ͞f͚̜̙͢ǐ̭͉͓͈̅͗ͥͅn��̝̯̻͎̣̰̱i̮̹͔̲ͨͥ̋̆̕s̓̽ͤ͑̋҉̜͈̱̪h̤͉̫̭͍̒͆̉̈̊̐e̵͈̣͖dͧ͏͎͍̻ ̖͙́̇̒͛ẅ̘̠̤̤̭̒̾͟ḭ̩͈̥̬̅ͪt̰͇̟̹͖͂ͪͪ͋͟ḩ̝̯̖̤͉ͬ́͌—”

He gave her an apologetic look as he pulled the lid off. She let out a chilling, unnatural scream as she was sucked in, the finale to her entire performance. 

Everything that had been floating crashed down, the lights flicked back to their usual white, and the laughing died off. Ellie fell to the floor, rubbing at her head and looking around as if dazed (that little liar).

“Are you okay?” Mabel cried as she ran to Ellie’s side, just as Dipper came up to him and asked, “Are you sure she can’t get out?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, knocking his knuckles against it. “I’ll let her out in the Ghost Zone.”

“The Ghost Zone?”

He found himself explaining it halfmindedly, the rest of him focused on inspecting the party. It looked like everything really was back to normal, minus the rearranged room and food that fell to the floor.

“That’s amazing!” Dipper’s eyes sparkled, and Danny could finally see what Wendy meant about him wanting to know the supernatural, too. “I have so many questions!”

Danny suddenly suspected he’d be here a long time if those questions started now. “How about you write them down and I’ll tell you about it when the party’s over?”

He was surprised that Dipper agreed so easily, running off to grab Mabel’s pen. With that, he snuck out of the party, thermos in hand.

-_-_-_

Danny took the lid off again, watching as Lily reformed. She stretched her arms over her head with a sigh. He rubbed at his neck. “Sorry about trapping you, I didn’t really have a better choice.”

"That was still really fun!" She giggled, with the biggest smile Danny had ever witnessed her pulling. Her coloring shifted back to how she usually looked in the Ghost Zone, with purple hair, gray-black skin, and her dress bleached from black to bright white. She was officially out of her “scare-mode”, it seemed.

He huffed. "If you tone it down next time, and not include my sister in your schemes, I might not have to resort to it again.” He glanced around. “Well, time for you to go home. Is that portal still open?"

"Perhaps." Lily floated into the forest, and Danny warily followed. 

Only a few minutes passed before they came across a long rip in the air, carved out in front of one of the many trees, shining ecto green like a bleeding wound. One of its neighbor trees wore a sparkly Summerween party flyer.

"See you later, Phantom!” Lily chirped. “Oh, and let Mabel know her cookies were good!" She paused to wave, her grin lingering on her face turned counterclockwise, then flew through. 

Danny watched the portal until it closed; luckily, it only took a minute or two to stitch the fabric of reality back together, leaving no trace. Well, except for his nerves being fried for the night.

He was not looking forward to Ellie’s smug grin. 

It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

Zalgo Text:

"I'm not actually wearing a costume."

"To make you scream."

"You should've used it when you had the chance."

"Anyone else wanna play?"

"I'm not finished with—"

#Danny Phantom #DP #ghostsona #AU!Ghost August #aughost #Lily? Lily. #Lily? Lily. Fic. #Gravity Falls #GF #DPxGF crossover #crossover #DP headcanons awaaaaay #and yay spooky times #Dani and Danny call each other siblings but otherwise this is basically post-canon (minus PP maybe?)

[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!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(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 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!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(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?!

#hhvdEvent #hws germany #aph germany #evillious chronicles #Key to Zorn series #alt-talia #2p germany #Evillious Chronicles x Alt-talia series

[ober-affen-geil]

This is a short fic for @bialiencowboy, for the cosmic love exchange! 

I gave a shout out to some of the gems (this one, and this one) on @roswellprompts which, if you don’t know, is run by the ever wonderful Edin that this is gifted to, but the bulk of the story sprang from several references to Teen Wolf I saw on both blogs. I was a fan of Teen Wolf as well and as soon as I saw the reference, an idea dropped into my head so.........I wrote a crossover ficlet :D 

Some author’s notes. 1) While this was somewhat inspired by the idea of werewolf!Michael, the fic is a crossover and not an au so it’s canon compliant to both shows. 2) As much as I wanted to write Malex I couldn’t find a place for Alex in this fic in my head so he’s off doing something else. Don’t worry, Michael misses him. 3) No one dies, but there are some injuries related to gun violence so CW for that. 4) Many, many thanks to the lovely and patient @chasingshhadows and @ubiestcaelum for tweaks, comma wrangling, and cheerleading. 

Hope you enjoy!

The crowd at the Wild Pony was finally starting to break up as, one by one, people peeled off and headed home. Karaoke night was always a popular one and tonight had been no exception. Michael was half sure the house was actually going to come down when Maria led everyone in "Bohemian Rhapsody", but by now it had thinned to their small group and two young men sitting in a booth near the bathrooms.

They both looked to be in their early twenties; one of them spoke with large, animated hand gestures and the other listened and laughed more quietly with the ease of long friendship. Michael had seen them from the pool table and didn't recognize them, so he figured they must be tourists passing through.

Michael spent most of the night playing pool as he normally did, but it was getting to be closing time and the last of Michael's pool competitors had left. Since Alex wasn't there for him to pull into a dark corner or snuggle up to in a booth, he settled down at the table with everyone else. Isobel had begged off that night but Max and Liz were there, as was Kyle. Unfortunately.

He saw Maria make her way out from behind the empty bar and over to the bouncer by the door. The Diné man towered over her almost comically, in every way fitting the physical stereotype of his profession. She laid a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Wolf, I'll be right back. You're in charge, ok?"

“Sure, boss.” He nodded, crossing his arms over his black leather vest and settling into an easy, alert stance.

"You running out on us, DeLuca?" Michael called after her, craning his head to catch sight of her as she whisked out the door. 

She stuck her head back in and raised an eyebrow at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"If you don't come back does that mean my tab is cleared?" He grinned at her over his drink.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Keep dreaming, Guerin. One day the whiskey fairy might grant your wishes but until then, you owe me 63 dollars." She flashed him a bright smile with just enough teeth to let him know she meant it and slipped back out the door.

"Well I've got to go to the little surgeon's room." Kyle heaved himself up to a chorus of teasing protests.

"What's the matter, Valenti? Can't hold your liquor?" Michael smirked at him from across the table.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Just don't get up to trouble while I'm gone, Guerin. And I don't want to come back to Evans here going off about - what was it again? Twilight?" 

Max hunched, slightly embarrassed, as Liz laughed. "That was one time."

"Well make sure it stays that way." Kyle turned and headed towards the bathrooms.

Max seemed undeterred. "All I was saying was that it would have been more interesting if the focus had been less on the conflict between the wolves and the vampires. You know the original Dracula could turn into a wolf, so really-"

He was drowned out by a chorus of groans.

"What do you think, Liz?" Max turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

Liz leaned back and seemed to consider for a moment. Then she beamed at him. "Team Jacob all the way."

Max clutched his heart in mock pain. "I am betrayed!" 

Liz laughed and shoved him playfully. He flopped dramatically, then leaned over and pulled her into a quick kiss.

Michael scoffed at them around the lip of his beer as they looked at each other in sickeningly sweet contentment.

"Nobody move!"

Michael jerked around and saw that a man had just walked in. His clothes were dirty and clearly unwashed and he sported a scraggly and unkempt beard. It looked to Michael like he was a drifter, but the thing currently commanding his attention was the gun he had leveled at Wolf. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two tourists stiffen to attention and he sincerly hoped neither one of them tried anything stupid.

Max leapt to his feet but quickly spread his palms when the gun swung around to him. "Take it easy ok, what do you want?"

"Money. In the till." The drifter's eyes flicked to the bar, then back to Max. "Now!" he yelled when no one moved.

"Ok, ok, just-"

"What'd I miss?" Kyle walked out of the hallway from the bathrooms, directly next to where the drifter was standing.

"Wait-" Max reached a quelling hand out, a moment too late.

The drifter startled at Kyle's sudden appearance and swung around. The hand holding the gun lashed out and Kyle's head snapped back as the metal made contact. He bounced off the wall, crumpled to the ground, and lay still.

Michael saw one of the tourists, the quieter one, make an abrupt aborted movement as if to help Kyle, then apparently thought better of it after a second glance at the drifter. Michael tried to catch his eye to warn him off trying anything further, but was distracted by a flurry of movement next to him.

"Kyle!" Liz gasped and started forward out of her seat. She froze as the gun swung around again and pointed at her, the muzzle shaking slightly along with the hand holding it.

Max spread his hands again, and edged between Liz and the line of fire. "Alright, calm down, we'll get the money for you. Wolf?"

Wolf moved toward the register on the bar, eyes trained on the drifter.

Michael tracked him for a moment, waiting until he got far enough away. Then he focused on the gun's safety and narrowed his eyes. He heard and felt the faint "click" it made as he switched it on, and he glanced at Max. 

Max gave him the slightest of nods, then in a fluid motion he stepped forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted, forcing him to drop the gun. Max kicked it across the floor, away from them, and used his momentum to carry them both against the wall with a grunt. He got the drifter's hands behind his back and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt where he kept his spares.

Michael stooped to pick up the gun as Max read him his rights, putting it on the table. 

Max handed the man off to Wolf. "Take him out front and wait, I want to check on Kyle." 

Wolf gave the drifter, who was protesting loudly, a shove towards the door. "Sure thing. Why do these things always happen on your day off, am I right?"

“Tell me about it.” Max scoffed in rueful agreement. He called after Wolf as he manhandled his charge out the doorway, "Someone should be by shortly from the department." 

He nodded to Liz who was just getting off the phone with Sheriff Valenti. Liz nodded back as she slipped her phone back into her pocket, then her gaze sharpened. "Hey! What are you doing? Get away from him!" 

Michael turned and saw that one of the tourists from the booth, the one who he thought was going to pull a dumbass move before, was kneeling by Kyle on the floor. He had Kyle's hand in a tight grip and his head was thrown back, jaw clenched and teeth bared in what looked like pain. What was most concerning though were the fingers of unnatural black something snaking up his arm that seemed to be coming from Kyle.

Liz had already started towards them and without thinking Michael reached out and pulled. The young man went flying into a table where he lay groaning on the floor.

Max's head snapped around and he kept trying to catch Michael's eye as he went to crouch next to Kyle, but Michael ignored him in favor of making doubly sure whoever this potential threat was wasn't going to cause more trouble.

"Woah, woah, woah! Calm down!"

The other tourist was suddenly standing with his arms spread wide in a placating gesture. Michael sized him up. He didn't look like he weighed more than 150 pounds soaking wet and he was tall enough that it made him almost gangly. Michael narrowed his eyes, confident he could take him on if he had to.

"Look, he was trying to help ok? Lemme just, go over and make sure he's alright." At this he started to sidle towards his companion on the floor, hands still raised in the air.

"Hey!"

The young man jerked to a stop as Max stood to his full height.  

"How about nobody moves until we sort out what just happened?" Max said, using what Michael thought of as his Officer Evans Voice.

"Ok! Ok, sure, we can do that." The tourist craned his neck, trying to get a look at the figure on the floor. "Hey Scott? Buddy? How you doing over there, huh? You ok? You maybe wanna, I don't know, help me out a little?"

His companion - Scott, apparently - groaned and started to heave himself up. He had leveraged himself onto the table top when Liz marched up to him and shoved him to the ground again. 

"What were you doing to Kyle?" she demanded, glaring down at him threateningly.

Scott, wisely, lay flat on his back with his palms spread in a show of surrender. "Nothing! I was just trying to make him more comfortable."

On cue, Kyle moaned and put a hand to his head. Max crouched next to him again and touched his shoulder gently. "Hey man, how you feeling?"

Kyle squinted up at him. He pulled his hand away from his head and looked at the blood on his fingers. 

"Better than I should be considering I may have a concussion." He heaved up into a sitting position and let himself fall back against the wall with a groan.

Max turned over his shoulder and traded a look with Michael.

"See?" Scott's friend interjected. "We weren't trying to mess with your pack, ok?"

"Pack? What do you mean, 'pack'? " Max asked, brow furrowed.

Scott grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, glancing at Liz, who glowered but stepped back a little to give him room. 

"Stiles, they're not werewolves." He winced as he pressed a hand to his side where the table hit him.

"What kind of a name is - wait, werewolves?! Who’s - what - 'werewolves'? Those aren't real." Michael stared at him in disbelief. He shot Liz a glare when she snorted, then looked at Stiles to see his face twisted in derision.

"Yeah, ok, Mister Broody. Deny away. But we're in on your little secret. And don't try to tell me that Puppy Eyes and Cheekbones over there aren't werewolves either because hello?" He swept an arm towards Kyle and Max, who looked mildly affronted. Kyle just looked confused. 

"Should've known we'd run into another pack," Stiles muttered to himself. "'Come on a road trip Stiles, it'll be fun!' Why do I still listen to you, Scott?"

"Stiles, I told you, they're not werewolves. He's human." Scott pointed to Kyle on the floor. 

"Thank you," Kyle said, clearly done with trying to make sense of the conversation.

"He smells funny though." He swung his hand to Max, who tensed. Liz took a step towards Max, half blocking him from the accusing finger.

"Scott, we've talked about sniffing people without their permission. It's creepy and gross. You gotta cut it out." Stiles seemed unbothered by this revelation and was looking at Scott in exasperation.

"Come on man, you know I can't help it." Scott gave Stiles a long-suffering look and dropped his hand. Then he turned his gaze on Michael. "You're not human either, are you?"

Michael froze, but Stiles just rolled his eyes.

"Wow Scott, brilliant deduction. I got that when he threw you across the room with his freaking mind. What tipped you off?" Stile gestured wildly at the table Scott had knocked over when Michael forced him off Kyle.

"Like I said, he smells funny," Scott answered without a hint of the sarcasm that Stiles' question was dripping in.

Michael gritted his teeth. This was going nowhere. "Yeah I get that a lot. What exactly does it mean?" He stepped forward threateningly. "You got 5 seconds to answer or I-".

"Michael," Max warned.

"What, Max?" Michael snapped.

"Woah, hey, guys. Look, I get it. How 'bout I show you my thing so we're even, ok?" Scott spread his hands, supplicating.

Max stood and moved closer to Liz. "What do you mean 'your thing'?" he said, cautiously.

Rather than answer, Scott bowed his head. When he looked back up, Michael recoiled with a curse.

His eyes, which had been a deep brown, were a blood red that nearly glowed. He seemed to have sprouted extra hair around his face; his ears now ended in long points, and his lips pulled back to reveal fangs that definitely hadn't been there before.

Michael heard a startled stream of Spanish from Liz and Kyle let loose a very emphatic, "What the fuck!" from his position on the floor.

Scott quickly ducked his head again and suddenly his features had returned to normal. 

"See? Can we please calm down a little?" Scott was acting like everything was fine now when Michael felt like his head was spinning even worse than before. 

Michael broke the shocked silence. "Ok, what the hell was that?"

Scott seemed disappointed that no one had relaxed. "I'm a werewolf. Look, it's not a big deal, can we all-"

"Not a big deal? You turn into a character from an 80s B-movie and it's not a big deal?" Michael flung his hands wide in disbelief, but Liz cut him off before he could continue.

"Do it again."

"...what?" Scott seemed nonplussed.

"Do it again. That thing." Liz gestured helplessly, searching for words. "Cambia otra vez, muéstrate. You say you're a werewolf, prove it." She crossed her arms and stuck her chin out, challenging. 

"Liz, I'm not sure that's-" Max started.

"No, it's ok." Scott interrupted. He grew silent again, concentrating, and this time they saw the change ripple over him.

No one moved for a moment, then Liz stepped forward.

"Liz-" Max said warningly. She shot him a look, and moved closer to Scott. They all jumped when he said "You can touch if you want." 

"You sound...normal." Liz said, tentatively. 

Stiles snorted and Michael glared at him. But his curiosity was piqued, too. He made his way over to stand next to Liz, who was tilting her head while she examined him up close. She reached a hand out and gently touched some of the excess hair on Scott's face, then she tugged on it.

"Ow!" Scott flinched away and rubbed his cheek. 

Liz held her palms up in apology. "Sorry, just making sure."

Scott shook his head like a dog, and his face returned to human.

"So when you say you 'smelled us'..." Michael started, mental gears clicking into motion.

"Yeah. Side effect." Scott looked mildly embarrassed. 

"What exactly were you doing to Kyle?" Liz asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion, not willing to back down that easily. 

"Oh." Scott rubbed his hand self-consciously against the back of his neck. "I was taking his pain."

"Taking his - what? Like healing him?" Michael looked over at Max whose gaze had sharpened in interest.

"No, I can't heal other people like that. But I can ease their pain, make it hurt less." Scott shrugged.

"Huh." Michael digested that information. "What do you do?" He rounded on Stiles, who looked taken aback.

"Uh, nothing. I'm human." 

Michael's face twisted derisively, and he raised his eyebrows at him.

"No, seriously!" Stiles threw his hands up. "So what, two seconds ago you don't believe in werewolves, and now you don't believe in humans?"

"Alright," Michael thinned his lips and dropped his chin in a nod of concession. But Stiles apparently wasn't done.

"And by the way, how do you not know about werewolves? What are you that don't know werewolves are real?"

Michael schooled his features into a practiced mask. "None of your business."

Stiles was insistent. "Come on, you can tell us. We know lots of different types of people like you. Banshees, kitsune, you name it."

"None of them smell like you though." Scott was looking at them with an expression that suddenly made him look older, more mature. Michael had an uncomfortable suspicion that he might already know. 

"You smell…" Scott tilted his head and considered. "I don't know, shiny?"

Kyle barked a laugh and Liz snickered. Then again, Michael thought to himself, maybe not.

"Dude." Stiles was looking at Scott with 'what the hell' clearly written on his face.

"What?" Scott said defensively. "That's what they smell like."

Michael shot a glance at Max, who looked helplessly back.

"Oh, just tell them." Kyle said from the floor, exasperated. "Can't make this much weirder than it already is."

"Max-" Liz tucked into his arm and looked up at him with concern etched into her features.

Max softened down at her and gave her hand a squeeze. He looked at Michael, questioning.

Michael shrugged and looked away, annoyed at how much his stomach was churning with anxious energy. He wished, not for the first time that night, that Alex was there. "Fine, whatever. But you have to explain it to Isobel."

Max grimaced, but nodded and squared his shoulders. He looked at Scott. "We're aliens."

An explosively loud silence fell, and Michael took a moment to savor the fact that they had finally gotten the upper hand. Whatever Scott and Stiles had been expecting, it wasn't that.

Stiles, who couldn't seem to decide which of them to gape at, spoke first. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

"For real?" Scott looked like his birthday had come early. "That's so cool!" He turned excitedly to Stiles. "Oh man, if Lydia were here she would freak out."

"What about me? I'm freaking out!" Stiles ran a slightly panicky hand through his hair. Then he froze. "Wait. You don't actually probe people do you?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, you're not my type." 

"Wh-" Stiles looked down at himself and then over at Scott, who shrugged. He looked back at Michael, insulted. "Why not?"

"Excuse me."

Everyone jumped and turned to look at Maria who had appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "What the hell people? I leave for five minutes and you can't keep it together? Everyone out."

Max turned and offered Kyle a hand. Kyle took it and pulled himself to his feet with a wince. Max put a hand on Maria's shoulder as he walked past. "I’ve got to go down to the station to deal with this, I'll cover their tab when I come back." He said, gesturing to Scott and Stiles as they headed out the door.

Maria nodded shortly in acknowledgement, and Max walked outside after Liz and Kyle.

Michael swiped his hat from the seat where he'd set it down. "Do you want-"

"Not another word Guerin, or I ban you for life. Permanently. " Maria shot him a look that told him this wasn't a time she was feeling friendly banter.

Michael clicked his mouth shut and plopped his hat on his head to shuffle out after the others. He emerged into the parking lot to see Liz had cornered Scott and was excitedly asking him questions. Max was walking Kyle over to his car, hand at his elbow.

"So."

Michael turned to find Stiles standing next to him.

"Alien, huh?"

Michael heaved a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

#cosmicloveexchange #roswell new mexico #rnm #teen wolf #my writing #crossover fic #my fic #tw gun violence #i blame stiles for this #his was the voice that inspired me to write this down #list #a riley special

[voidendron]

First Meeting

One-Shot, 1′883 Words Star Wars/JSE Egos Crossover

I’d like to direct you to the one-shot Supply Run if you haven’t read it yet; may want it for context on Sam and Marv for this AU. Italics are a translation and mean they’re actually speaking Mando’a in this. Also, this version of these two have admittedly poor impulse control and think more with their fists than their heads ^^”

Warnings: Language, Guns, Mild Violence, Choking Characters: (humanized) Septic Eye Sam, Marvin the Magnificent, Chase Brody

Sam was glaring behind their helmet. What else could they do? It wasn’t like Marvin was going to listen. The other Mandalorian had taken his helmet off a while ago; it was sitting proudly on the console overlooking the stars beyond their ship. He’d been so focused on avoiding the bounty hunter’s shots he hadn’t put it back on yet.

“You’ve really done it this time,” the younger muttered as they crossed their arms huffily.

“Sami. Zip it.”

“I can man the—” their ship lurched as a shot hit the shield, forcing Sam to momentarily brace themself on the console, “—gun.”

Marvin huffed a laugh and spun the ship into a disorienting spiral. “Gun? It’s still out of commission from the last time.”

“I thought you got it fixed!”

“I got it scheduled to get fixed.”

“So what you’re telling me is you pissed a bounty hunter off—on purpose—and now we can’t even defend ourselves? Marvin!”

“Hey, don’t blame me! I maybe…didn’t think it through like I should have?”

“You’re entirely to blame. They weren’t even after us until you decided to upset them!” Even so, Sam had to bite their cheek to keep from grinning behind their helmet. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the mature one.”

Sam wasn’t even sure either of them had bounties on them to begin with. Maybe if they’d ticked off the wrong person in a tavern or some collector wanted genuine Mandalorian armor, but that was all they could think of.

Whatever. Didn’t matter. Bounty or no, a hunter was still pissed off and trying to shoot them down.

The next time the ship jolted, both humans were thrown forward and into the console. Sam’s helmet smacked against it, easily protecting their skull from the impact.

Marvin…wasn’t so lucky. The helmet he’d rested on the console had fallen off and rolled away somewhere while its wearer crashed his unarmored head against the steering. He instantly fell limp in his seat.

“Marvin!” Argh, this is why you keep your helmet on unless you know you’re safe, Sam thought with gritted teeth as they lunged from their seat to drag Marvin out of his. Moving the far taller man into the seat behind the pilot’s was a struggle, but they eventually got the harness strapped snugly across his chest and took the pilot’s seat for themself.

Okay, okay, this was so much more complicated than the single-manned ships Sam had flown before, but. They could do this.

…They hoped?

Coruscant was close, their shield was holding, they could—

They grunted as another shot connected. Sam took control of the steering and accelerated the ship as much as it would go. Coruscant, Coruscant, get to Coruscant. Dammit, this shouldn’t even be happening, Marvin!

Sure, they’d both be laughing about it later, but—another shot connected—but it wasn’t exactly fun in-the-moment when they were left without a way to defend themselves.

Entering the atmosphere, Sam checked the blip on the radar. The hunter was still following.

Nearly crashing into a docking cargo ship, Sam swerved and brought the ship lower. Speeders were left nearly crashing into each other and buildings and pedestrians to avoid them as the Mandalorian ship flew far lower than it should have, as it took too-sharp turns that clipped an awning and knocked out the window of a shop, as it skidded to a jarring stop into the intersection of an alley with a nearly empty street.

Tripping over themself, Sam scurried out of their seat and to one of the lockers, fumbled with blasters and ammo. Over other vehicles, they couldn’t pinpoint which one, if any, belonged to the hunter, but they weren’t going to take any risks. One more peek at Marvin—still out cold—and they were slamming the release for the door. The ramp descended as it slid open and Sam risked a peek.

There it was. It was landing, blocking them in. There wasn’t enough space to turn around and leave the way they’d come, and the hunter hadn’t left enough room in the street to fly forward.

Great. Wonderful.

The hunter to exit the rival ship was Trandoshan, and he looked furious. Ah, even better…

Next time they sparred, Sam would have to be sure to knock Marvin on his back end for this one.

Kneeling just behind the exit and peeking around it at the hunter, Sam waited, watched, as the Trandoshan approached.

Deep breath, raising the blaster to their shoulder, one, two—

Sam jumped to their feet and out of the ship when the hunter started firing. One shot hit their shin, beskar easily protecting it as Sami tried to activate their jetpack. A blaster bolt hit it instead, and they were left scrambling to pull it off and throw it aside before it combusted.

Just as the device left their hand, they were being shot at again. Another bolt hit their pauldron, throwing them off-balance and ruining their shot.

They’d never faced a Trandoshan. He was stronger and more experienced than the young human; before Sam even knew what was happening, they were pinned with a clawed foot pressed against their throat. Gagging as they tried to suck in a breath, Sam wrapped their hands around the man’s ankle and tried in vain to shove it away, feet kicking in an attempt to strike the Trandoshan.

He hissed at them and growled…something. It was in Basic, but Sam’s mind wouldn’t register it.

They pounded on the man’s ankle, tried digging their nails into it but their gloved hands only slid against his scales without purchase. Their head started swimming; they couldn’t breathe.

Then, the weight was gone, and they were left gasping and coughing as both hands came up to clutch at their neck. When their vision stopped spinning, Sam sat up and crawled to where their blaster had fallen.

The Trandoshan was stalking back to his ship while spitting curses at… Huh. Someone else had decided to join the party.

A Bothan. Sam had never seen a Bothan in person before. They were shorter than they’d expected.

The Bothan had two Corellian hounds on thick leads; both were growling at the Trandoshan and looked moments away from attacking him. There was also an assassin droid crouched on the ramp to his ship with a blaster readied.

Sami swallowed, rubbed at their throat once more, then brought their blaster back up to their shoulder. The Bothan completely ignored them (though the droid took to aiming at them instead), opting instead to watch the bounty hunter until his ship finally took off.

When he did finally look to Sam, he rolled his eyes and spoke…Ithorese? to call the droid off.

“Hey, easy, man.” His Basic consisted of a thick accent, like Sam would expect an Ithorian to sound if their throat was shaped right to actually speak Basic. Throaty, growly? They weren’t sure how to describe it.

“Hello? Coruscant to Mando?”

Sam blinked and hesitantly relaxed their stance slightly, though kept their blaster poised.

“What? Is it your turn, now?”

“Hey, no need for hostilities. I hate hunters as much as the next guy. ‘Sides, we had nothin’ better to do than lend a hand.” He holstered his blaster and loosened the hounds’ leads. They looked more or less calm, now, but Sam still eyed them.

“What do you want?” Their eyes flicked over the man’s attire—loose, comfortable, easy to move in. At his droid—in good shape, but its parts looked like they’d been taken from multiple sources and not repainted to match each other. His ship—oh, that’s definitely a repurposed junker. Sam’s mouth twisted downward. Smuggler? “Lemme guess. Payment?”

“Look, buddy. If I’m being honest, I originally wanted to just hang back and scavenge whatever was left of your ship when that bounty hunter was done with ya. But my droid wanted to help out and it’s pretty hard to say no to him.”

Sam arched a brow skeptically. “…The assassin droid wanted to help?”

“Slink..? No, no! My astromech—he’s still on board.” His fur startled bristling slightly, eyes darting to the streets beyond. “Look, man, authorities are on their way ‘cause they don’t exactly take well to blaster fire. ‘Specially not in the city’s upper levels; probably gave a few rich folks heart attacks if I’m honest. But, ah…” he gestured for their ship, “you’re probably not gonna want to take off in that.”

Whether it had been Sam’s poor flying, the hunter’s shooting or…Sam’s jetpack. it had been Sam’s jetpack blowing up, hadn’t it? that had a fuel line leaking, they weren’t completely positive, but certainly had a good idea which of the three it was, if not a combination of all of them. They couldn’t help a frustrated groan.

“Yeah… Uh, look. It’ll probably be dragged off to a warehouse somewhere where you can either buy it back or steal it back. I could care less. I suggest taking your valuables out of it, planting a tracker, and going elsewhere for now.”

“Can’t you fix it?”

“Sure. Just not before police droids start showin’ up.” The Bothan clicked his tongue and turned to the assassin droid (Slink? Was that what he’d called it?) and started speaking in Ithorese again. The droid hummed and took the hounds from him, then disappeared into the junker. “Okay. Uh. I was gonna head off for Ryloth, but I could give ya a ride…wherever you needed to go, I guess?”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Deal. Fuck my head…”

The Bothan looked momentarily surprised at the new voice. Sam just rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. There was Marvin with helmet tucked under one arm while his other hand rubbed at the welt in his head.

“You missed all the action,” Sam teased in their native tongue.

Marvin scoffed. “Just go get our weapons and credits.” Then, turning to the Bothan, he gave pause, thought for a moment; he didn’t know Basic as well as Sam or the other man did. Then, “If you could take us to Mandalore? I’ll pay you well for it. But try anything…” He rested a hand over the blaster on his hip.

“Sure. Whatever. Y’know I’m not stupid, right? Not puttin’ my dogs or crew at risk by pissin’ one of you off. Just get your stuff and hurry up.”

Weapons and credits collected, a tracker placed where it wouldn’t be found, then back to the junker.

Sam couldn’t help but eye it skeptically. “Is that thing even safe?”

“Pretty sure she’s the one standing while yours ain’t even fit for takeoff.”

“…Touché.”

The Bothan laughed at that. “C’mon, police are just about here.” He tapped an earpiece, then gestured at his ship. “I’ve got one of my droids watchin’ street cams—” he (or his droid) had hacked the city’s cameras? “—and we’re gonna be closed in on shortly.”

Sam cast one more look to his comrade. Marvin had slipped his helmet back on at some point, and only offered a shrug.

“I’m Chase, by the way,” the Bothan threw over his shoulder without looking at them. “Anything I can call you two?” Neither answered, to which he just snorted. “Eh, suit yourselves. Setting course for Mandalore.”

#fanfic #jacksepticeye #marvin the magnificent #septic eye sam #chase brody #star wars au #blitz indites #swearing / #guns / #mild violence / #choking / #i've...never actually written something from sam's pov?? #let alone a humanized sam's?? #hope it turned out all right ^^" #also i've always thought of sam as being sassy #so that paired with being fairly young here #makes for what you see of them in this au

[aion-rsa]

Avengers: Endgame - The History of Captain America's Climactic Moment

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Remember in Avengers: Endgame when Captain America picked up Thor's hammer? We sure do! Here are other times he did that!

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This article consists of nothing but massive Avengers: Endgame spoilers. You’ve been warned. We have a completely spoiler free review right here.

Ever since Thanos showed up in the mid-credits of the first Avengers movie, there was one scenario that most comic book fans knew was going to one day happen: Captain America was going to at one point lift Thor’s hammer Mjolnir and bash Thanos’ stupid face with it. Until Hela broke Mjolnir in Thor: Ragnarok. Then we all went, “Oh, never mind, I guess,” and thought about what could have been.

Well, time travel is funny like that. It gives you a mulligan. Avengers: Endgame gives us one of the most triumphant moments in superhero movie history, when Captain America is able to lift Thor's hammer, Mjolnir, and use it to beat the ever-lovin' crap out of Thanos for a few minutes. Not only can Captain America lift Thor's hammer, he's able to call down the lightning just as Thor would. It's a huge, cathartic, and historic moment in the history of the MCU, but it's something long familiar to Marvel Comics fans.

How Can Captain America Lift Thor's Hammer?

Simple: Steve Rogers is worthy. The inscription on Mjolnir reads "Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." It doesn't matter how strong you are, if you aren't worthy, you can't lift Thor's hammer, no matter how hard you try. It's why Thor, at a low point in his life, is so relieved to find that he can still call and hold Mjolnir when he travels back to the events of Thor: The Dark World.

In Avengers: Age of Ultron, we got the slightest hint of what was to come when Cap was able to slightly budge the hammer when trying to pick it up. Thor's reaction shot there was priceless, and teases the moment in Endgame when Steve finally gets to call down the lightning. Of course, the big payoff in Age of Ultron was that Vision (not Cap) was able to wield it near the end of the movie as a way of proving his fidelity, but many of us knew that there was more to it, including Thor, who exclaims "I knew it!" when Cap gets his big moment with the hammer.

read more - Which Avengers: Endgame Deaths are Permanent?

There is comic book precedent to Cap picking up Mjolnir. While not the first non-Thor character to pull that off in Marvel canon (that would be the delightful Beta Ray Bill), he’s had a couple moments where he’s been able to prove his worthy worth and cracked some heads with the uru metal.

Here’s some American history with a mix of Asgardian shop class.

THE ORIGINAL

The Mighty Thor #390 (1988)

Around this time, Steve Rogers had lost the right to be Captain America and just fought crime as "The Captain." This meant dressing exactly as Captain America, but in a black costume with red and white stripes on the front. Thor stopped by Avengers HQ, saw this guy with head wings and a shield and went, “I never saw you before in my life! Who are you?!” Then he threw Mjolnir at him in mid-sentence before realizing that it had to be Steve Rogers because of how fast he could dodge the attack.

I swear, Thor must scream, “STRANGER DANGER!” whenever Jane Foster gets a haircut.

Cap later explained his whole status quo, as well as his current feud with Iron Man (that happens a lot). So the government considered him an enemy and he was at odds with Iron Man for ideological reasons. Same as it ever was. While Thor mused over all this, one of his villains, the god Seth, sent an army after him. Cap, of course, helped out his stupid, stupid friend.

read more: Avengers: Endgame - Complete Marvel Universe Easter Eggs and MCU Reference Guide

Thor dropped his hammer after being tackled by generic grunt Grog. Grog tried to lift Mjolnir, but couldn’t budge it. Instead, he started torturing Thor with a laser. Cap didn’t quite understand the whole “worthy” gimmick at the time and figured it was just really heavy. Even though Grog, a brick shithouse of a miniboss, couldn’t do it, Cap decided it was worth trying.

Wouldn’t you know it, The Captain picked it up and wiped the floor with the dogpiling goon squad. He tossed it back to Thor, who proceeded to finish off the bad guys.

Afterwards, Thor admitted that while he had no idea what was really going on with Steve and Tony’s current argument, he sided with Steve due to his ability to pick up the hammer. Cap nodded, rushed into a Quinjet, and flew off to go break Tony Stark's nose several times over.

2099 PROBLEMS

2099: Manifest Destiny (1998)

Even though it's been brought back a few times since, 2099 was one of Marvel's big fixtures in the 90s. It was how 90s comics felt the future would be like. The story was that the heroes had long gone missing and there were no surviving records of what happened. Either way, Thor was worshipped as a religious figure and many awaited his return.

When serial-pointer Miguel O'Hara got powers and became the new Spider-Man of the era, someone pointed out that he was the first of many who would take up the mantle of a long-forgotten hero. This would continue until the coming of Thor 2099, who would deliver them all. Sure enough, we got Ghost Rider 2099, Hulk 2099, Punisher 2099, X-Men 2099, etc. After a few years, the line of comics lost its luster and they wrote it off with this one-shot where they found Captain America's frozen body.

read more - Avengers: Endgame Sidelines the Captain America/Bucky Relationship

As Steve got accustomed to this new world, Miguel gave him Donald Blake's walking stick. With a little reluctance, Steve accepted the gift and struck it to the ground, transforming it into Mjolnir and transforming himself into a gaudy Cap/Thor hybrid. He and Miguel started a new Avengers team, but on a space mission, things went haywire and it looked like Captain America was going to be knocked into deep space. His last act was to throw Mjolnir to Miguel, who caught the weapon and turned out to be just as worthy.

Yes, in a wonderful twist, Spider-Man 2099 wasn't just the herald of Thor 2099. He WAS Thor 2099!

With this power and the slow aging that came with it, Miguel turned the galaxy into a utopia. By the time he was done with his duty in 3099, they discovered Captain America's frozen body yet again. The poor guy just couldn't catch a break, but at least he got the hammer back.

THE HELLSCAPE OF APOCALYPSE

What If? Featuring X-Men: Age of Apocalypse (2007)

Age of Apocalypse was a pretty big deal in the '90s and the world it depicted was a nasty one. At least it had Magneto’s X-Men to make some kind of difference to offset Apocalypse’s evil. Naturally, Marvel’s What If series had a couple of takes on the big event. One had its continuity move forward and show how that Earth would have handled the coming of Galactus. One had Legion succeed in killing Magneto in the past, showing a world where Charles Xavier could better fight for a world where mutants were accepted.

Then there was this ridiculous one-shot where Rick Remender came up with the idea of Legion accidentally killing both Magneto and Xavier. The event had terrible repercussions, leading to governments to discover the existence of mutants earlier and going straight for the persecution. Apocalypse made his big appearance and the world got weirder than in normal Age of Apocalypse continuity. For one, Apocalypse’s army included a nest of Peter Parker clones connected by a big Venom symbiote blob.

read more - Avengers: Endgame Ending Explained

The resistance team included the likes of Nate Grey, Molecule Man, Wolverine, Colossus, Thing (with robot arm), Doctor Voodoo (introduced a year or so before Brother Voodoo was the Sorcerer Supreme in canon), Captain Britain in Mach I Iron Man armor, and the leader Captain America. With no real context given, he wielded Mjolnir throughout the story and constantly fought maskless.

The whole issue was mainly these Defenders jumping from one spot to another, facing different threats and gradually losing members. Towards the end, Nate Grey killed Apocalypse, stole his armor, killed Molecule Man, and opened up a portal to the past so they could prevent the deaths of Xavier and Magneto. Fearing that Grey would become a tyrant as bad as Apocalypse himself, Cap killed him via Mjolnir and allowed the portal to close.

He and Wolverine were the only survivors of the adventure.

WAR OF THE WORTHY

Fear Itself (2011)

Fear Itself was a Captain America/Thor crossover idea that Marvel decided to turn into a full-on event. It was...there. The tie-ins were better than the main plot, honestly.

Watch everything Marvel and more with a FREE Disney+ TRIAL, right here!

The Red Skull’s daughter Sin came across a mystical hammer that transformed her into the deity Skadi. She helped unleash forgotten Asgardian god The Serpent, who in turn created seven hammers that would possess and empower those worthy of unleashing fear. They were Hulk, Juggernaut, Thing, Titania, Absorbing Man, Grey Gargoyle, and Attuma. Then Nazis in mechs started swarming Washington DC and the whole thing was a big mess.

read more: What's Next for the Marvel Cinematic Universe in MCU Phase 4?

Around this time, Bucky Barnes was Captain America and the story partly existed to have Bucky fake his death and move the Cap identity back to Steve Rogers (and you thought Endgame treated the Bucky/Steve relationship poorly?). A lot of good it did for him, as The Serpent was able to shatter the shield with his bare hands.

To turn the tide, Tony Stark and Odin made some special weapons for the superheroes to wield. As for Cap, he simply found Mjolnir lying around on the battlefield and used it to go to town on Skadi. They hyped all this magic weapon stuff up like crazy in the adverts, but the whole thing was really background noise. The fight just kind of ended after Odin pulled away all the hammers and Skadi went back to being Sin.

THE MIRROR MATCH

Secret Empire (2017)

And then there’s this load. Nick Spencer did a lengthy story about Steve Rogers revealing he was really an agent of Hydra all along. Marvel was really adamant that it was really Steve Rogers and that he wasn’t being mind-controlled. Also, the company insisted that Captain America wasn’t a Nazi because Hydra weren’t Nazis. TOTALLY DIFFERENT THING. Because, you see...look over there!

Hydra Cap then turned out to be a version of Steve Rogers created by a little girl with reality-warping powers (sure), who was manipulated by Red Skull. Cap ended up taking over the US and shockingly beat up opposing superheroes via wielding Mjolnir. That too seemed to be a product of the reality-warping as the inscription/rules of the hammer were different and you had to be a bulky Hydra asshole to pick it up.

read more: Full MCU Marvel Movie Release Calendar

By the end of the event, the little girl conjured the original version of Captain America to beat up his please-don’t-call-the-Nazi-a-Nazi doppelganger. When Hydra Cap went for the hammer out of desperation, it had already reverted back to normal and he wasn’t worthy enough to pick it up. Regular Cap picked it up and walloped his douchebag counterpart.

"Your ass will never be America's ass." (not actual dialogue)

Yeah, everyone knew that the status quo would return in the end, but the whole Hydra Cap business was as well-timed and tactful as showing off your chainsaw and hockey mask to your son, in the middle of the night, when Sideshow Bob is trying to kill him. It also killed the end of Gerry Duggan’s otherwise legendary Deadpool run, which I can never forgive.

HONORABLE MENTION

There’s only been five comic scenarios where we’ve seen Captain America wielding Mjolnir, so let’s just move those goalposts a little and talk about times when superheroes have kicked ass with the shield AND the hammer at the same time.

First up is Crusader from an issue of What If based on the original Secret Wars that showed what would have happened had all the heroes and villains been stranded on Battleworld for 25 years. While some died in that time, others got busy and we got a new generation of heroes and villains. One of which was Sarah Rogers, daughter of Cap and Rogue.

read more: Marvel Movies Watch Order - An MCU Timeline Guide

No, the comic doesn’t answer the question of how that conception worked.

Even though her boyfriend Bravado was the son of Thor and Enchantress, it was Crusader who ended up being able to pick up the hammer and turn the tide against Vincent Von Doom. She also had stolen her dad’s shield from his closet when he wasn't looking, but that’s less impressive.

Then there’s Superman. The miniseries JLA/Avengers was the final crossover between Marvel and DC and it finished with a bang. Leading both hero teams into battle, Superman was entrusted with Captain America’s shield. During a pivotal moment, in order to break into the villain Krona’s stronghold, Thor threw Mjolnir to Superman. Superman caught it and smashed his way in.

read more: Does Steve Rogers Still Have a Place in the MCU?

Later on, after the dust had cleared, Superman found himself no longer able to lift it. As Thor put it, Odin may be strict, but he knows when to cut you slack when times are desperate.

I have to imagine we’ll be seeing more Cap/Mjolnir moments going forward. Marvel really seems to enjoy having comics imitate movies that imitate comics. God, remember when Spider-Man 3 came out and comic Spider-Man just happened to start wearing black again?

Gavin Jasper writes for Den of Geek and when Captain America throws his mighty hammer, all those who attempt to...stammer that hammer must clamor...? Read his other articles here and follow him on Twitter @Gavin4L

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Gavin Jasper

Nov 25, 2019

Marvel

Avengers: Endgame

Captain America

Disney+

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#aion-rsa #Books

[msbeccieboo]

Arrow 7x16 brain dump

So another episode, another triumph!! Star City 2040 was AMAZING!! The episode was almost all I had hoped for and so much more to boot! We got Mia  Smoak’s origin story, and got brought somewhat up to date with the future storyline, whilst still leaving plenty of unanswered questions. The episode could easily be seen as a backdoor pilot episode for a next gen spin-off, that no doubt is in the works for when Arrow comes to a close. There is lots to deal with from this week’s offering, so without further ado….

Olicty and Mia

This will be short and sweet as we only got a minute-long flash of them as a family unit.  But OMG THE BIRTH!! HDVKVHWDGRFJLBHSDNVSDLK!!!!!!  My heart was so full, even in that short scene 😍 I had always had reservations about seeing a Felicity pregnancy storyline during the show run, but it seems like Beth has crafted the story so cleverly as for the pregnancy to not be so much of a focus-puller from the main story arcs for the season and for Felicity herself. This is what a talented and female-driven writing team does people!!! We will get the bulk of the pregnancy falling over hiatus, and the birth we have seen already here, and still get to keep some fluffy fanfic-y moments between her and Oliver in the present day. This is win-win as far as I’m concerned! But I digress…the birth!! We hear Felicity’s labour-screams (*shudders* 😬), whilst we get a tour of their new home, and Oliver is right there by her side!!!! Holding her hand, they exchange “I love you so much” and I diieeeeedddd!!! 

Source: oliverxfelicity

This was so adorable, and then Oliver’s little chuckle at Felicity’s joke? GAAAAHHHH!! Mia is handed back to them by Nurse Random, and the happiness on both of their faces, along with Felicity’s tiny “hi”, and the forehead kiss (I love a forehead kiss) just broke me!!  Tears, all the tears! No drama, just a beautiful family moment.

Source: feilcityqueen

Continued under the cut

The “abandoned farmhouse” I thought we’d get, based on the trailer this time last week, in fact turned out to be a beautiful, warm, secluded family home, obviously lovingly furnished and lived in for a while by Oliver and Felicity. I guess this begs the question of when do they leave Star City for this new home, given that the team never knew about Felicity’s pregnancy? I think Olicity will leave by the end of the season for sure. And then that’s it for Olicity, and Oliver in this episode. Personally, I never expected to see Oliver in this episode. I don’t expect to see him in the future scenes before the end of the season, or even at all, as any future timeline reveals would scupper whatever tomfoolery they intend on cooking up in the next crossover *rolls eyes*.

Mia’s montage

Gosh I just love a montage! We immediately snap from new-born Mia to the most adorable toddler badass ninja Mia!!

Source: ebett

Look at that little face!! It was a stroke of genius casting James Bamford’s daughter here, as she already has some killer little fighting moves!  I am in love 😍 She then transitions seamlessly into a slightly older version, before the teen/adult Mia that we already know.  Can I just say that I adore the fact that she always has a little blonde ponytail just like Mama...my heart!!! Oh and who is her trainer?? Only Nyssa fracking Al Ghul!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!

Source: felicittysqueen

What a fantastic surprise! I squealed! I stan one set of sister wives and their daughter! Much like finding Connor’s true identity last week, just this little twist was so exciting! I love spoiler-free season 7!!

Felicity/Mia

Agggghhhh these two! We finally got a little more insight as to why Mia seemingly hated Felicity so much. She seems to have been relatively well adjusted, if not feeling both isolated and suffocated in her small town (all this as well as having been trained to be a ninja by Auntie Nyssa), prior to leaving for Star City. Her relationship with her mother looked easy and loving, and I loved how her protective instincts kicked in when she returned home and Felicity didn’t reply.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Let’s just take a moment to appreciate how chill Felicity is when Mia nearly attacks her! The way Emily has chosen to portray Future!Felicity with a new-found calm and poise is fabulous. She is such a boss (as if there was ever any doubt), with echoes of Moira but still all of ‘our’ Felicity’s heart. I loved her slipping back into her babbles over the comms over Mia’s ‘type’; Nana Donna would be so proud!!

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

The turning point in their relationship comes when Mia stumbles upon Felicity’s secret bunker, compete with desktop pics of Oliver as GA and William pictures 😭😭 Two of the people that Felicity loves most and has seemingly lost? 😭😭This discovery leads Mia to realise that Felicity is still partaking in some vigilante side-action, which is the crux of their relationship breakdown. Vigilante’s have been outlawed, and painted as the ultimate big bads, something Felicity has obviously tried to make Mia see sense of.  But Mia has clearly seen and heard all of the propaganda surrounding them, we don’t know where Oliver is, but we know he and Felicity have vowed to continue saving people, taking them away from Mia, and in turn, making her grow to resent the vigilantes irrespective of the heroic stories her mother has told her. Felicity keeping her own present vigilantism from Mia is the last straw for her. She is young, unworldly at this point, and clearly has strong feelings of abandonment from both parents, and the idea of Felicity being caught as a vigilante and taken away from her makes her snap. Cue Mia escaping to Star City to get her freedom, and to ‘find herself’ in cage fighting (the obvious career choice haha), and generally be a broody teenager. There she ‘learned’ even more about Vigilantes, only with the government spin on it, further driving that wedge and distance from Felicity and developing her hatred for them. This is where we see their relationship at as they reunite, a few years later, by the sounds of it.

Felicity being the empathetic angel that she is, has absorbed all of Mia’s hatred and disappointment, which I think is why she seemingly just ‘takes’ all of Mia’s attitude. Felicity also knows all too well the disappointment of being lied to by the person you love the most (looking at you S4 Oliver). She loves her so much and sees so much of Oliver in her, that it must be heartbreaking for her to know how she has disappointed her. That line where she tells William “I’m used to being a disappointment to her” is a gut punch. Yet she is so so proud of her! 😭😭

Source: olicitygifs

Felicity realises that she should have told Mia the truth, and immediately apologises, but it takes the rest of the episode’s events to unfold before Mia really starts to understand the situation Felicity and Oliver were put in, why they made the choices that they did, and allows her to accept Felicity’s apology and start to mend fences. The final scene with them had me in tears for the 46232th time this episode, and you can really see how much they love each other, and their bond that still remains.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

I know she has been divisive so far, but I love Mia, and can understand where she is coming from in her attitude.  This is a girl who is 20 years old, remember, and whereby in some ways she has had to grow up incredibly fast, she is still very naïve and emotionally unaware as well. I see so much of Oliver in her, as does Felicity.

Source: olicitygifs

Her reaction to danger, physicality etc (hellooo handstand press-ups!) is down to training, yes. Her brooding, rash decision making and acting alone are character traits straight from Oliver. Her rage/anger reaction to the lies from Felicity and Connor scream S1 Oliver to me.

This is my take anyway haha, I know some will disagree, but I am officially a Mia Smoak stan!!!

William/Felicity/Mia

William didn’t take centre-stage this week, but he still had so many amazing moments. Ugh I love this boy so much!! His relationship with Mia continues to grow and be the cutest thing ever! Like I said last week, I love seeing William draw the light out in Mia, in the same way as Felicity always does with Oliver. All the little sibling moments that they share are so heart warming I could dieeeee! The “show off” line, “you’re just more useful to me not dead”, “oh good now there are two of you”, “now I got a sister to hate instead” the list goes on!! And then Will making Mia pose as his EA, and her distain at that are a hilarious call-back to their parents…Olicity S2 ftw!!

Source: smoaktechs

I clearly have already spoken about her, but let’s just take a moment to appreciate that FELICITY IS ALIVE BITCHES!!!

We saw that Felicity had been looking out for William all along, investing in his start-up under the pseudonym City of Emeralds Capital, see my Wizard of Oz meta here. Then we finally got to see the reunion between her and both of her children, and it was epic. Her and William just murdered me.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

I love that he just went to her and embraced her straight away 😭💗😭 William had every reason to hate Felicity, something she acknowledges, but the love he still has for her after all these years, ad the profound effect she had on him in the short time they were together in our time just had me in tears so hard.  Every time I scroll by a gif of this moment, I tear up (awkward when I’m ninja-tumblring at work 😬)! William, being that bit older than Mia, and having known Felicity and Oliver at an earlier point in time, allowed him to understand and forgive her pretty much immediately. I’m glad; we only have the energy for one broody Olicity baby! And once reunited, William and Felicity are a force to be reckoned with!

Source: ebett

I loved seeing them hack together at the Gala! And then in their last scene together, when Felicity thanks him for keeping faith in her and holding on to the Hozen for all this time ruined me yet again.

Mia/Connor

SmoaknHawke has arrived people!!

Connor following (following, not stalking) Mia and William all the way to Galaxy One to save their arses was so cute!! He is a good little Diggle and will always have his (girl)friend’s back, whether she is crazy pissed at him or not! Tiny Mia getting him up against the wall was a total mood haha! We discover that Connor is in fact Agent Hawke 🔥🔥, working for Nightwatch…a good version of ARGUS?? Is this where Dig is at? I want to see Dig! David Spoiler Ramsay already told us that he’d be in the FFs, so that was my only disappointment of the episode, that we didn’t see him.

But back to my newest OTP!! Mia was still so mad with Connor (and the world) for lying to her about his identity, then again for following her, and again for being a secret agent. He is so apologetic…that boy is GONE!! He just wants to keep her in his life! The “because I care about you”, “entire relationship is based on a lie” exchange was so charged!!! 

Source: mia-smoak-gifs

I loved Connor talking up the heroes to Mia, whilst still acknowledging her pain. Connor’s compassion is straight up John Diggle, adopted or no. This also led into the ultimate shade, with Mia’s iconic line:

Source: oliverxfelicity

😂😂😂 Mia’s very existence as a child of Olicity already angers a certain comic-loving demographic, so this line was extra satisfying for me.

If a next gen series does happen, I will be so excited to see where these guys go…especially will the addition of William (and to a lesser extent, Zoe). The FTA scenes and lift/fight sequence was so so good!!

FF storyline

I suppose I should actually cover this haha! Lots of new stuff. We saw Rene interact with the Team…and reveal he thought Roy was dead!! Dinah’s line about Rene getting all the age but no wisdom was just 😂😂😂 There is mention of a terrorist organisation called Edencore, now going under the alias of Galaxy One, who Rene is directly working with in the Glades. They, along with Rene (hello new, crappy version of Malcolm), are planning on setting off a clusterfuck of bombs to level Star City so they can rebuild in their image. To cover their evil arses, they plan on placing the blame on vigilantes, namely Felicity. Anyway, once everyone is reunited (with a bit of an awkward hug between Felicity/Dinah…not sure if that was intended or not?) and introduced (“This is Mia, these are mine and Oliver’s impeccable genetics” gahhhh!) they deduce that the bombs are scheduled to detonate at an event that night, where everyone is in hoods and masks…how very convenient haha!

Felicity wearing a green mask is just 😭😍😭

Source: noonecanknowmysecret

Her and William are an unstoppable hacking duo as they seek out the slimy bad guy (forgot his name) so Mia can go kick his arse!! I almost HAD ANOTHER LITTLE CRY WHEN Felicty say to Dinah “No-one’s called me overwatch in a very long time” waaaahhh!! Mia obviously runs in half-cocked and on her own (like father like daughter) to confront the slimeball, and just when it looks like she’s in trouble and massively outnumbered, she takes down the whole fracking room on her own! “Oh this will be fun” YAAAASSSS!!!

She is AMAZING in the field (a total badass, as Felicity later tells her). That cape move she did was 🔥🔥🔥 She loses Slimer in the kerfuffle, following him out into the crowd, that Rene has stirred up by announcing the vigilantes “show them what heroes look like” yaaaasss! Then, with no time to spare, Mia shoots the inch-square detonator out of his hands with an arrow in the most epic shot everrrrrr! I feel like if the new series does happen, this could be the opening title sequence shot!

Source: felicittysqueen

The fight stunts/effects this episode were amazeballs! I think this episode needed to be ‘big’, due to the absence of Oliver and the mixed reactions to the FFs so far, and it totally delivered!

Other folk

Roy! Future Roy continues to do things for me…so hot 🔥🔥 He seems to be enjoying being back with a team again, but we still have little-to-no idea of his past 20 years. He gets scary angry out of nowhere whilst interrogating one of Dinah’s contacts, and beats the crap out of him. I cut a whole Roy/Edencore/present/FF spec from this review and put it here if anyone feels like a laugh!

Rene continues to have terrible hair, unlike when Oliver was mayor….oh those were good hair days….*sighs dreamily*. He is complicit in the plan to level the city, but is talked around by Zoe, who he finally realises is one of the Canaries (well, duh). He ends the episode still playing the role of evil mayor, but is he really ‘good’ again now?

I’m not keen so far on adult Zoe, but maybe we just need to see more of her? Or maybe we can just forget her, like her Dad? She will surely form part of the next generation team if a spin-off happens, so I guess we will see her interacting with FTA soon.

Dinah doesn’t have much going on, other than fight scenes, and awkward hugs.

Legacy

The overarching theme of this season is legacy, and this episode is the most blatant about that I think. We see here, Oliver and Felicity’s literal biological legacies in William and Mia, and how being their children has affected their outcomes. Will is a flourishing CEO and tech wiz, thanks largely to his time with Felicity, and maybe the fact that he’s been able to succeed so well in a somewhat normal life is down to their absence from his life post-S7, but he missed out on growing up with his parents 😭 Mia on the other hand, grew up with Felicity (at least, if not Oliver for some of it), who had to have her trained in order to protect her, should the day ever come that her identity is revealed. So Mia had the parental love growing up, but was otherwise isolated from the world, no schooling, never left the town etc.

We also see Oliver’s legacy as a hero manifesting in his children. We see them finding their way on this journey, finding their own reasons and routes of being heroes. William didn’t need asking twice to join Felicity, and stand up to help. Mia was far more reluctant, with her fears of losing people, and (at the time) still in the belief that Vigilantes weren’t the heroes Felicity claimed them to be. Despite taking more convincing, the hero blood runs strong in her veins, and we went from the ‘I don’t want this life, heroes are bad’ mentality to “Let’s go save the City” in no time.

On the flip side, we see the future state of Star City, and way people have been affected in future shows Oliver to have left behind more than one type of legacy, not all good. Was he right in his choices to save the city/world? Of course! Or his way of going about doing it? Possibly not.

By the end of the episode we find ourselves with the ultimate OTA legacy. An FTA comprising of the same skillsets as OTA; Mia as leader (no doubt) and skilled fighter, William running the tech and the brains of the operation, and Connor with the tactical experience, government ties, and all the Diggle Yoda-wisdom.

Source: smoakmonster

And that’s that, sorry this was another whopper….

Thank you to the beautiful gif-makers, as always! You guys put the sparkle in my ruby slippers 💗💗

#arrow #arrow 7x16 #arrow season 7 #olicity #flash forwards #beccie's brain #long ass post

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - The Squids, The Squids (Bankshots Music, Inc. and Oto-Songs, Inc., 1981) and Duganopacalypse Now (A Fan Compilation, circa 1981)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not-so-recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

The first band I ever loved was the Beatles, and John Lennon was dead years before I had any idea of who they were. It wasn’t until Kurt Cobain died that I had any interest in Nirvana--I recall an eighth grade classmate looking at mw with contempt after I told them I was unfamiliar with their music, when “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was already an MTV hit. The chemical composition of my brain was dissolved and reconstituted over the course of two weeks when, at twelve years old, I watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Cool Hand Luke on late-night television, but both films were about twenty years old by then. I just heard of Herbie Hancock’s V.S.O.P. album, featuring Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams, about two weeks ago. I’m 42 years old now and I’ve only just come to realize how cutting and prescient Claude McKay’s novel Banjo is. 

All this to say that I wish I’d been around when Honolulu’s The Squids were playing around town. (Much thanks to Roger and Leimomi from Aloha Got Soul for pointing me in the right direction.) The Squids were so odd and varied, a New Wave outfit with the muscularity and venom of the truest punk rock, able to invoke the B-52′s in the same gig as Talking Heads or the Ventures or the Specials, all with the same veracity, but much weirder and crueler. They married a sunny, breezy synth sound with an aesthetic that I can only describe as joyously psychopathic, spraying smart-ass malice on the unfortunate subjects of their songs.

Though the band only officially released a 7-inch EP in 1981 (currently unavailable on Amazon) Comrade Motopu, the mysterious archivist who, through digitized vinyl and cassette tapes, as well as donated photos, scanned liner notes, flyers and news releases, has painstakingly agglomerated Hawai‘i rock music and associated miscellany on a magnificent pre-Y2K looking website, has not only shared the Squids’ EP (featuring “Tourist Riot,” “‘Love Theme’ From Surfer Boy,” “In,” and “Rio”), but what is also listed as Duganopacalypse,  a fan compilation with even more twisted tunes: “Medicine,” “Sexy,” “Head in the Sand,” the ska-soaked “New Girl in Town,” their partially awful, mostly spectacular “Cool Clear Water,” and “Pretty Vacant (with Dugan),” the Never Mind the Bullocks classic with a seemingly hated fan on the inarticulate vocals. I only pray that Comrade Motopu continues documenting this underhand era of Pacific rock music of the late Seventies to early Nineties--the site is a treasure, and more words about the bands highlighted on comrademotopu.com (the Vacuum and Yahweh’s Mistake, for instance) will be coming soon.

The Squids began as a concept by guitarist Beano Shots in 1979, later to take shape as a full-fledged human/cephalopod music group with members Kit and Gerry Ebersbach, Dave Trubitt, and Frank Orall. Those of us who sweatily flailed our way through a booze-and-drug bender on the strobe-lit (at least, as it appeared then) dance floor of the Wave Waikiki between the hours of 2 AM and 4 AM when all the other bars closed down would be surprised to learn that the now-demolished former nightclub, a hub for the scraped-out, after-hours husks operated by the residual combustion of chemicals in their blacked-out reptilian brains, once hosted the edgy Squids as the house band, presumably when the going-out crowd still had an affinity for fun, strong music, and did not simply seek to propel themselves upon the the mechanized beats and soulless zombie tracks initiated by a faceless button masher, in hopes that they would be manipulated, by the end of the night, into some loveless fuck with a nobody. 

Of the Squids’ stage show, we have but one recorded example of the band live in concert: a faithful interpretation of the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant,” in which the players serve as back-up band for a loyal heckler known only as “Dugan.” Having taken (jokingly) enough shit from Dugan, the band harasses him into sing-shouting the song. The performance captures the “fuck you” sentiment of “Pretty Vacant” with a primitive abandon that almost makes the original seem like a Monkees’ tune. It also portrays a punk rock scene less enlightened to the diverse lifestyles it later engendered, when “dick sucking” was applied exclusively as a pejorative.

The same pissed-off adrenalin leads off the the 1981 EP in “Tourist Riot,” an apocalyptic narrative of that species of traveler compelled to hammer a new experience into a predetermined mold that will establish an appropriate backdrop to their social media posts. The tourists here burn hotels and smash out windows when their expectations aren’t suitably met--a bad vacation in which they are pushed around and mistreated leads the tourists to murder and mayhem.

“Tourist Riot” lays out the Squids’ music aspirations right away, especially in the interplay between Beano Shots’s electric guitar and Kit Ebersbach’s keyboards, which morph from forbidding electronic warning tones to psychedelic ghost notes to the replicated sirens of a city on fire, collateral damage in a war between locals and tourists. Following a surprisingly effective bridge that concludes with a shouted “Fuck it, I’m going to New York City!” is an atonal guitar solo reminiscent of Nels Cline asleep at the wheel, redeemed by a more fluid keyboard exploration.

When Jimi Hendrix claimed that “you’ll never hear surf music again” in 1967, he was, through the example of his own transcendent playing on “Third Stone from the Sun,” burying the corpse of that elementary, improvisationally unimaginative rock instrumental with the axe with which he had slew it. To that end, after hearing Jimi Hendrix and all the musical manifestations that took shape from his cosmic residue, it is sometimes hard to take surf music seriously. “‘ Love Theme’ from Surf Boy” comes across as the Squids’ winking parody of the genre, with its reverb, its whammy, its overall melancholy, and its simplicity. That said, there is some sophistication in the song’s structure, as if the wordless tune was more an exercise in technique, an attempt to take stock creatively before reaching out to a farther and stranger place.

On “In,” the guitars and keyboards snarl rabidly toward the same explosive destination, barely kept in check by the talents of the players. Lyrically minimalist, the song’s non-sequiturs slice through the instruments like assembled cut-up style by William S. Burroughs. “Are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was only kidding” followed by “are you losing sense of humor, could be Jesus was just a salesman.” These pieces of thoughts unfinished resonate in my head like something close to catchy--to what end, I don’t know. Where the keyboards overmatched the guitars on “Tourist Riot,” on “In” the guitar is locked in and dirty, climaxing in repetitive harmony between the instruments to close out the song.

When I first read the track listing to the 1981 EP, I thought the final song “Rio” would be a rough rendering of the hit video single by near-contemporaries Duran Duran (whose synth-guitar arrangements, though undoubtedly smoother, find relation in the Squids’ overall aesthetic). Instead, “Rio” is an acid commentary on the American Capitalist, represented as a white suit soaked in sweat, and his compulsion to foster vice and iniquity to exotic locales.

I’m not sure whether the fan compilation Duganopacalypse, also available for listening through the Comrade Motopu website, was recorded before, after, or  during the sessions of the 1981 EP. A few tracks lead me to believe that the songwriting and arrangements are from a wiser, more sophisticated band, while other songs seem so apelike in their imitations as to come through as pointless satires, or maybe the explorations of a band trying to find its identity.

In “Medicine,” for instance, the Squids operate under an overpowering B-52′s filter that washes out their uniqueness. Whereas on previous tracks this influence existed only at the fringes of their sound, the singer on “Medicine” channels Fred Schneider on the verse and switches to David Bowie during the bridge. The role-play, though, doesn’t kill the the more interesting aspects of “Medicine”--its guitar lick is inventive and so wormy as to be slightly irritating, and the song’s themes, that one must willingly imbibe “the medicine” to accept the hypocrisies of this “downer world,” resound strongly to anyone who casts their eyes around a crowded room.  

Where the B-52′s references go deep in “Medicine,” Talking Heads emerge in “Sexy,” from David Byrne’s vocal tics to the subtle and swampy “Take Me to the River” vibe. It goes beyond straight homage to cover band territory, but it does emphasize the band’s technical ability to lock into a groove. “New Girl in Town” is a heaping serving of not-completely-warmed-up ska leftovers, a bit misogynist (of its time, but still). “Head in the Sand,” regrettably, could have been the Squids’ crossover pop hit. I say “regrettably” because, even though the song has a point--that the ability of humans to maintain a semblance of happiness is to carefully cultivate the warm fuzz of obliviousness, sacrificing will to fate in the belief that nothing we could do to change anything would matter anyway--the effort seems more calculated than organic, a plastic approximation of the closest this band, given their specific set of skills, could get to a pop crossover hit. The work put into it seems to drain away at some of the dirty magic. It‘s self-conscious in a way that the other songs aren’t.

Finally we have “Cool Clear Water,” what would have been the band’s masterpiece if they’d spent a little more time recording a decent take (the version on the Duganopacalypse almost sounds live, though it could have been laid down in a rehearsal space). This is not the country classic performed by Marty Robbins and Johnny Cash. The Squids’ “Cool Clear Water” is the frightening confession of a soldier recently returned from the war in Vietnam, directed by an angel spirit to mass murder with a shotgun from a tower in town. When the killer is set to be executed, the angel spirit comforts him, tells him his spirit will be redeemed in heaven for “setting the people free.” The unnerving subject matter of “Cool Clear Water” is given sinister shape by the relentless horror-notes of Kit Ebersbach’s organ, the guitar holding down the song’s march toward inevitable nothingness because the bass (normally played with elan by Gerry Ebersbach) is a complete mess (I’m not sure if she hadn't learned the song or if she just showed up at the gig drunk).

As Marc Maron frequently says on his podcast, “there’s no late to the party” anymore, given the the amount of content available to all of us via the digital consciousness that we are now more plugged into than not. But I’ve waited all my life to lose myself in something vital, of the moment, with my eyes and ears and heart present while the thing is taking shape, at its most temporal. I feel that way listening to the Squids. I wish I could have seen them at one of their Wave gigs. I wish I could have had a beer with them afterward, and gushed in the embarrassing way I do about things I love.

#freshlisten #thesquids #honolulu #1981ep

[creeped-out-ranked]

Creeped Out is a horror anthology series shown on CBBC in the UK and available on Netflix elsewhere. It’s an excellent show, fun for kids with loads of crossover appeal for adults. But the big entertainment sites tend not to cover it, and I haven't been able to find a definitive ranking of all the episodes anywhere. So I decided to create my own, because why not?! This list includes season 1 and season 2; I’ll add further episodes as they’re shown.

Before we get into this: there are some spoilers in here. I’ve tried to keep them to a minimum but sometimes, to describe what's good (or bad) about an episode, I need to discuss elements of the plot.

Every episode of Creeped Out, ranked from best to worst

1. ‘Slapstick’ (Season 1, Episode 1)

The first episode of a series is rarely the best, but Creeped Out bucks the trend—‘Slapstick’ hasn’t yet been bettered. It’s the perfect combination of cozy and creepy, with a quintessentially British setting (a seaside town complete with Punch & Judy shows), a puppet antagonist who’s somewhere between unnerving and amusing, and a relatable main character. Even the score is the best of the bunch: its sinister take on fairground music really adds to the atmosphere. The plot—Jessie wishes her parents were ‘normal’, and lives to regret it—is compelling, and in contrast to some of the weaker episodes, you actually understand why the characters do the things they do (even the bully is given a bit of a backstory). ‘Slapstick’ is a gem, and more than any other episode, it stands up to repeated rewatches.

2. ‘Trolled’ (Season 1, Episode 3)

Sam leads a double life: he’s secretly NoFace, an online troll who often targets his closest friends. When he ignores a message warning him to stop trolling, things start to go very wrong. This episode is set in the plush surroundings of a boarding school (one of Creeped Out’s more notable backdrops) and the contrast between Sam’s environment and his online life is both palpable and believable. The dynamic between Sam, Fitzy and Naini is established very effectively—you really feel Sam has something to lose. Extra points for the properly bleak ending, too.

3. ‘Kindlesticks’ (Season 1, Episode 9)

This episode is a fan favourite, and it’s not difficult to see why. ‘Kindlesticks’ came out of nowhere, landing in the middle of a few mediocre episodes, and doesn’t seem at first glance to have the most exciting setup: a bad babysitter getting her comeuppance. Yet you’ll likely find that the tale of Esme, her charge Ashley and his imaginary friend Kindlesticks will drag you in, spit you out and leave you reeling. It’s a simple idea executed perfectly, with what is undoubtedly Creeped Out’s best delivery of a twist. Seriously, I didn’t see that coming at all.

4. ‘Splinta Claws’ (Season 2, Episode 10)

Admittedly, it isn’t difficult to make a Christmas episode good—add lots of sparkly decorations and a bit of ‘Carol of the Bells’ and you’ve already nailed the atmosphere. ‘Splinta Claws’, in which two boys get trapped in a department store along with a possessed animatronic Santa, builds on that to create an inspired take on PG-13 seasonal horror. It’s the self-aware script that really makes this episode; the ‘frenemy’ relationship between anxious Mikey and street-smart Lawrence, plus the characters’ recognition that the slow-moving Santa isn’t that scary (despite its nightmare-fuel face). An effective combination of action, emotion and humour results in a spooky festive treat.

5. ‘Tilly Bone’ (Season 2, Episode 9)

Telling a story backwards is a bold move, and initially, it makes ‘Tilly Bone’ confusing. Some viewers might find themselves wanting to switch off as they wonder what the hell is going on. But stick with it, and a fascinating tale unfolds, with layers, details and clues to be picked apart, nods to classic horror, great performances (especially Alice Franziska Woodhouse as the disquieting Junebug) and some of the series’ most original and surprising ideas. It’s formally innovative, daring and altogether one of the most impressive pieces of work Creeped Out has yet produced.

6. ‘Marti’ (Season 1, Episode 4)

Kim is initially delighted when her new phone’s AI helps her to become more popular, but things take a turn for the sinister when ‘he’ claims to be in love with her. ‘Marti’ cleverly uses this premise as a kid-appropriate way to explore themes of coercive control and abusive relationships. I have a feeling this episode may have been inspired by the 2016 movie Bedeviled—there are lots of similarities, right down to Marti’s voice—and it says a lot that in 25 minutes it crafts a better, more meaningful story than a full-length horror movie for adults was able to manage. Often unfairly slept on, ‘Marti’ is the talented underdog of the series.

7. ‘Takedown’ (Season 2, Episode 8)

‘Takedown’ is intriguing because it departs completely from the series’ typical aesthetic—there's lots of shakycam, a grainy feel to the cinematography, a muted colour palette. It’s shot more like an indie film than an episode of a kids’ show. It focuses on Alexa, the only girl on her high school wrestling team, who uses a weird chain text to wish for more strength. Since this is Creeped Out, it’s no surprise that her ‘gift’ comes at a price. With its gritty feel and the authentic friendship between Alexa and Lucky (‘cheers to root beers’, anyone?), this episode is something really different, and all the more memorable for it.

8. ‘No Filter’ (Season 2, Episode 6)

Like ‘Trolled’, ‘No Filter’ is a thoroughly enjoyable example of what a series like this should be aiming for, which is essentially a junior version of a Twilight Zone episode. There’s a recognisable starting point—who hasn’t used filters or Facetune to make their selfies look better, and who bothers reading all the T&Cs?—and when Kiera’s eroded face is revealed, it’s one of the few moments in the series to create a genuine shock. Plus there’s a proper pantomime villain, just as it should be. The ending might be a little jumbled, but it’s entertaining enough that that can be forgiven.

9. ‘Cat Food’ (Season 1, Episode 2)

Happy-go-lucky prankster Stu pretends to be ill so he can skip school, but gets more than he bargained for when he discovers the elderly neighbour, Mrs McMurtle, is actually a shapeshifting monster. ‘Cat Food’ is a fun, comedic episode (the only one yet to make me laugh out loud) and, while there isn’t a great deal of substance to the story, it’s efficiently told and neatly resolved. Rhys Gannon is great as Stu and it’s just an all-round fun time.

10. ‘The Traveller’ (Season 1, Episode 11)

While the vast majority of Creeped Out episodes take place in a distinctly middle-class milieu, ‘The Traveller’ switches things up by focusing on Jodie and Brandon, troublemaking kids on an inner-city estate. They come across a device that can pause time, and it’s all fun and games until a blue-skinned man starts hunting them down. The plot is a bit more Doctor Who than your average episode, and the combination of urban setting and sci-fi story is surprisingly successful. There’s also an emotional gut-punch of a moment when Jodie finally understands the problems she’s been creating for her mum.

11. ‘The Call’ (Season 1, Episode 6)

‘The Call’ isn't one of the strongest stories in Creeped Out’s repertoire. An unpopular girl is drawn to an environmental activist and discovers she’s a siren, gaining powers into the bargain—interesting enough, but not enormously original, and inevitably a gateway to slightly tedious lecturing about plastic etc. It stands out mainly because of a stellar performance from Rebecca Hanssen, who reminds me of a young Olivia Colman. Hanssen really inhabits the character of Pearl, and shows how excellent acting can elevate an ordinary plot and script.

12. ‘The Many Place’ (Season 2, Episode 4)

With their holiday scuppered by torrential rain, three siblings wander a hotel and find themselves lost in a maze of realities. ‘The Many Place’ is designed as an homage to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, and spotting the references is part of the enjoyment here. The story takes advantage of the liminal, disconcerting nature of a large hotel to craft a series of alarmingly plausible terrors, and the ending features the best twist since ‘Kindlesticks’.

13. ‘One More Minute’ (Season 2, Episode 1)

‘One More Minute’ kicks off the second season with a pure hit of enjoyment that doesn’t take itself too seriously. When Jack can’t tear himself away from his favourite videogame, he finds time passing quickly—scarily quickly. While it may not be among the best, everything about this episode is solid: it’s (appropriately) well paced, the relationships are soundly fleshed out, and it’s all wrapped up well.

14. ‘Itchy’ (Season 2, Episode 2)

It may have one of the show's sillier premises—the villains are... head lice—but I have a soft spot for ‘Itchy’. Perhaps it’s the setting: a military academy on an English island feels fresh when you compare it to the many identikit homes and high schools in the series. Perhaps it’s the strong performance from Oliver Finnegan as protagonist Gabe. Either way, there’s something low-key charming about this episode.

15. ‘Side Show’ (Season 1, Episodes 12 and 13)

This two-part season finale is set in the early 20th century and centres on a troupe of circus performance whose ringmaster won’t allow them to venture beyond a magical barrier. Overall, ‘Side Show’ isn’t especially creepy; it’s more of a fantasy story that feels like it could have been its own separate series. The advantage of this is that there’s more space for character development and worldbuilding. The disadvantage is that it doesn’t truly feel like part of the Creeped Out universe.

16. ‘A Boy Called Red’ (Season 1, Episode 5)

Vincent and his dad aren't getting along, but when they go to stay at the latter’s childhood home, Vincent finds an unusual way to reconnect: via a time-travelling portal. The switches between past and present are handled admirably, and Boris Burnell Anderson is a standout as AJ. There’s a lot to like about ‘A Boy Called Red’; it just doesn’t stand out as especially memorable when compared to some of the stronger Creeped Out stories, perhaps because there’s no real antagonist. 

17. ‘Bravery Badge’ (Season 1, Episode 7)

A troop of Girl Guides—sorry, ‘Hedgehog Rangers’—head into the woods for a camping trip. When the girls start falling into a strange trance, it’s up to a moody, reluctant Ranger to save the day. The setting here is promising, the campfire scene is a highlight, and the urban legend about the missing troop is a great touch. Unfortunately, the good stuff is undermined by questionable acting and a somewhat ridiculous supernatural menace. Though I will admit the singing is quite creepy.

18. ‘Shed No Fear’ (Season 1, Episode 10)

Set in the 1970s, with some decent period detail, this episode follows two boys as they battle a mysterious shadow-creature inhabiting an old shed. It’s cute to see Greg and Dave rekindle their friendship and tell the smarmy football captain to get lost, but the threat of the Shade is never particularly well-developed. The title also annoys me. Outside the context of this episode, nobody has ever uttered the phrase ‘shed no fear’. It isn’t even a good pun!

19. ‘The Unfortunate Five’ (Season 2, Episode 5)

Five kids in detention meet their match in a seemingly sweet, yoga-loving teacher who pits them against each other. Establishing five protagonists and two villains within the space of 25 minutes is a tall order, and it’s one this episode doesn't meet. ‘The Unfortunate Five’ has a good concept and also boasts one of the series’ goriest images (when Faye attacks Hawkins and blood spatters across the glass—I’m kind of surprised CBBC didn’t cut that). But the flimsy, unmemorable characters doom it to the lower reaches of this list.

20. ‘Only Child’ (Season 2, Episode 7) 

This could have been great: the story of a girl being menaced by her demonic baby brother, while her parents are convinced she’s just jealous, has lots of potential. Yet ‘Only Child’ doesn't really work. The denouement is rushed and muddled (exactly how does Mia identify the link between the baby’s power and the feedback sound?) and the low-budget special effects don't help. It also suffers from being set entirely within the Tuthill family’s apartment, which looks like a cheaply decorated show home. 

21. ‘Help’ (Season 2, Episode 3)

A very meh installment about a brother and sister who are overly reliant on their family’s Amazon Alexa-like virtual assistant. It’s basically a weaker version of ‘Marti’ with a much less impactful message. The siblings are barely fleshed out, and the episode shares with ‘Only Child’ a sterile-looking set that doesn’t resemble a real family home at all.

22. ‘Spaceman’ (Season 1, Episode 8)

If episodes like ‘Trolled’ and ‘No Filter’ represent what a show like Creeped Out should be, ‘Spaceman’ is exactly what it shouldn’t be. If ‘Cat Food’ proves how well humour can work within a scary story, ‘Spaceman’ shows exactly how it can go wrong. The tale of unlikely pals Spud and Thomas finding a crashed spaceship is by far the worst thing Creeped Out has come up with—it’s implausible, unfunny and not remotely creepy. Avoid.

#creeped out #creeped out ranked #creeped out episodes #creeped out episodes ranked #cbbc #netflix

[seyaryminamoto]

I've been browsing your blog for Sokkla research as I feel like it has similarities to what I'm trying to write with Azula and Soren. I haven't begun tackling Gladiator yet, as it looks a little daunting, but I feel I should since I keep hearing so much. I am a little hesitant over accidentally using anything you wrote for my own story. I'd be proud if I could make it as long and epic as yours. It's very personal to me. What motivated you to write Gladiator and keep writing for so long?

Yeah, I saw your post about your crossover ship having potential similarities with Sokkla and I agree that it would, since Soren shares a few traits with Sokka, character-wise. Admittedly, Azula interacting with a character like Soren would present quite a lot of fun possibilities, so it seems to be an idea worth exploring :)

As for reading Gladiator and accidentally using similar tropes… well, I don’t know if it will ease your mind much, but there are several tropes that I’ve run into in many Sokkla fics, mine, other people’s, just… lots of them xD and it’s not really a problem. Storytelling can lead to similar places, but usually, every writer handles their tropes and character development differently.

My plan for a certain, poignant scene in Gladiator’s 96th chapter was set in stone in my head back when I started plotting the fic (like I said in that ask I answered yesterday). The scene in question is one I depicted in some artworks for Gladiator’s second anniversary: Sokka defeats Azula in combat for the first time, pins her down, aims his sword at her, and they just stare at each other before things take a pretty heated twist...

A few months after planning this, I read another fic where practically the same thing happened between them (it’s a Spanish fic, I hadn’t tried reading it yet because it was incomplete, sometimes I still scold the writer in question for never finishing it), only, rather than it happening when they could no longer resist the attraction between them, it happened when they were barely getting to know each other: Azula followed Sokka into a forest clearing, where he was training on his own. Upon noticing someone was hiding in the bushes, he leaps at her and pins her down, aiming his sword at her as well. Of course, he freaks out upon realizing it’s her, she isn’t very happy, and no heated things happen other than a lot of blushing, especially on her part xD

So, as you can see, even if the trope is “Sokka holds Azula down, at swordpoint”, the context was entirely different, the outcome was completely different and heck, the wording and even language we used was 100% different.  I came up with the idea for Gladiator before reading Majesty, later on I found out that someone had written a very similar scene already (and it was a close associate of mine, no less xD). As much as I didn’t feel like I was all that original anymore… I didn’t change my plans because of that. As long as I didn’t pull a Cassandra Clare and copy-pasted the whole scene my friend wrote into Gladiator, where was the harm in trying my own hand at it? I wrote the tropey situation in my own way, with my own words, and it’s completely my own thing.

There was something else that happened with Gladiator, another friend read it and thought I was taking inspiration for my portrayal of Sokka and Azula from a couple in a TV show she loved. Turns out I’d heard about the show, but I hadn’t watched it until she nudged me enough to do it (no regrets!), and after watching it I understood where the similarities were, but the context was all different. More than that, a certain situation (Sokka admitting his love for Azula for the first time, she asks him to say it again) was close enough to what happened between the main couple in said TV show…

… But I actually had been inspired by another couple, in ANOTHER TV show, that had a slightly similar exchange too xD

Therefore, tropes are tropes. I’ve recycled so many tropes in so many things I’ve written that people could probably psychoanalyze me and figure out all my brain chemistry damn easily if they did. I tend to have a very particular structure when writing, too (the original story I wrote and finished had 3 parts, Gladiator has 3 parts too, to name the most superficial similarity only), and I’ve frequently explored similar topics in them. It’s hardly a crime to do it again, but as long as you do it in a unique way, there’d be no harm in testing how some tropes would turn out with Soren and Azula. It could be worrisome if you portrayed Soren reacting to events exactly the same way Sokka does, but that’s not very likely to happen. As similar as they can be, they’re also different in several ways and in the post where you compared them you seemed to see those differences pretty clearly.

Therefore, I don’t think there’s any real harm in trying your hand at certain tropes and situations. If the context is different, if there’s logic to what you’re writing, and of course, as long as you write it yourself, there’s absolutely no need to worry about repeating things other people have done before.

That being said, don’t feel pressured to read Gladiator at all. I’m glad people have recommended it, but I understand if it feels not only daunting but that maybe you won’t be sure what to write if you see all the stuff I’ve done so far. Gladiator is many things, and one of them is my playground for testing Sokka and Azula’s relationship in just about every way I can xD it’s so long that I’ve been free to play with all sorts of possibilities with them, to fulfill all my shippiest wishes for these two. Therefore, if you’d rather be true to your own ideas and not get too influenced by it, it’s absolutely understandable not to read it until you feel comfortable about giving it a shot (presumably, once you’ve plotted plenty of own story and feel like you won’t be at risk of taking too much inspiration from it).

As for what motivates me… well, I guess there were many factors. One of them is that Gladiator was an idea worth digging into, with so much to explore that I was completely overwhelmed by the possibilities and I got completely caught up in it. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted the story to exist, so I decided I needed to make it happen. As it’s practically a full re-write of ATLA’s storyline, I had a chance to just… handle everything on my terms. And that meant the developments I didn’t like from the show could change: I could improve on things I thought needed improvements, I could add things that I felt the show needed, and so on and so forth. There were nearly no limits, really, and as I was absolutely lost in the beauty and glory of my OTP, I couldn’t help myself and I decided to dive right in.

It helps a lot that Gladiator’s kind of a multi-faceted thing: as I’ve been developing my art too, whenever I was bored in class I’d sketch things related to it and then, if I had a chance and the sketch was good enough, I’d finish the art digitally later. I have a lot of music that inspires me, so sometimes I just sit down, listen to it, and I let myself evoke scenes that I want to write or draw. Fact is, the whole fifth anniversary project was a mix of art and music: the songs that inspired many arcs of Part 1, along with images that referenced them.

Lastly, though… I generally know where Gladiator’s going, so I don’t usually reach a point where I’m like “Woah I have zero plans for what to do next”. I plot things for the story whenever I have nothing to do (when I’m traveling places, when I’m showering, when I’m waiting for something? Just, whenever, wherever). If an arc isn’t shaping up to be particularly fun, I try to figure out what to do to make it more interesting and appealing for me to write. Whenever I come up with something I’m hyped about writing, it helps me keep on writing until I get there. Sometimes that’s also a curse because I go overboard and write like… 12K in a single day because I am that hyped about whatever I’m doing :’D happened a couple of weeks ago xD

Anyways, always try to fulfill your own needs with your story, first and foremost. Sometimes your public won’t be 100% receptive to your ideas, but sometimes they’ll actually want exactly what you’re putting out there for them. The magic of fanfiction is that, if someone doesn’t like what they’re getting, there’s absolutely nothing to stop them from taking to writing a story they do want, right? So, why should we try to please other people instead of writing what we’d want to read?

Make your story something you can revisit and smile about, make your story something you can find value in, regardless of whoever tries to undermine it. Make it yours, make it everything you want it to be. Want humor? Set up humorous situations (I mean, your lead couple would be Azula and Soren, humor’s basically guaranteed xD). Want tragedy and angst? You can have it too. You really can do anything, as long as you make up your mind to get it done. Figure out what it really is you want to write, the key scenes, the development you’re looking for with your main characters, come up with plans on how to get them where you need them to be, and once you feel you’re in solid grounds for it, feel free to start writing and always keep on looking forward to the big things you’ve wanted to write for your fic.

#crackship-azoren #I've always thought the most important advice is to write what you want to read #because so many people are so busy trying to please an audience #they start privileging the wrong things over what really matters (shock value over storytelling for instance) #stories will have conflict and tension and big moments and small moments #let your own ideas be your guide though #no one will know your story better than you #if you don't write what you want to read #there's a pretty big chance no one else ever will #... this got long #oops #well not as long as other things I've answered at least #if someone wants a read more let me know...

[chibiauthorchan]

The Hetalian’s Guide to the Galaxy

Wow, long time no post! I heard @alifeasvivid​ talk about a crossover between Hetalia (maining USUK) and the novel The Hitchhickers Guide to the Galaxy. The source material for this project I wrote for an English class back in high school belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya and Douglas Adams respectively. For those of you who have read the latter you will notice that yes, this is strikingly similar. But I had a lot of fun writing this when I did and putting in tons of fun Easter eggs. I hope you enjoy! (P.S. Tumblr messes with the formatting, sorry)

Contents: THGttG, Preface and about a fourth of Chapter 1 (it’s really long) Word count: 2,178 Warnings: Alcohol mention, aliens, impending destruction of the Earth Summary: Arthur Kirkland woke up hungover, thinking this was just going to like any other day. Well, it wasn’t.

This is the story of a terrible, stupid catastrophe and some of its consequences. All of which except said consequences happened on a Thursday.

This is also the story of a parody of a book named after another book that was dreamt up by an 11th-grade girl set in an alternate universe from both her own and the one of the original book named after another book. The book that the book was named after is known as The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy- which is not a book that originated from Earth from any of these universes nor was it published on any of these Earths. The book named after that book is in fact found on earth, but only in the universe that this 11th-grade girl comes from as this is the only universe where such a book exists. This story that parodies the book named after the other book and shall be called The Hetalian’s Guide to the Galaxy because this girl is a lover of puns. You see, the universe this parody of a book named after a book has characters from one anime series known as Hetalia placed into the world of the book named after the book. It’s a pun as fans of this anime are known as Hetalians. A pun is a joke based off of wordplay that in fact does not originate from any of these Earths so the earth fellow who thought himself clever from inventing the joke form was, in reality, reusing a billion-year-old idea that had long died out everywhere else in any of these universes.

Nevertheless, the book that the book this story parodies is named after is a wholly remarkable book.

In fact, it was probably the most remarkable book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor- of which no Earthman has ever heard of unless one comes from the universe in which this 11th-grade girl comes from and that individual has also read the book named after the other book¹. Much of these first three pages this girl has found unnecessary to the plot and it is being skipped over. Thus one could say this is also an abridged parody of a book named after a book. The one only slightly necessary piece of information relevant to something that will come later is that there are two books. One known as The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and one known as the great Encyclopedia Galactica which was only mentioned one other time in the entirety of the book named after the other book.

So, with that out of the way let’s get to the good stuff. Which follows as thus.

The story of this terrible, stupid Thursday, the story of its extraordinary consequences, and the story of how these consequences are inextricably intertwined with this remarkable parody of a book named after a book begins very simply. 

It begins with a house.

¹The 11th-grade girl writing this project would like to apologize in advance for all of the ways this parody will take twists and turns and make no sense as it talks about parodies of books named after books and the different universes the worlds these pieces of the puzzle come from. It is not her intention to confuse, this is simply the format of the book named after a book that this story is a parody of. This parody will also include plenty of British English slang as in both the book named after a book and in this parody our main character is an Englishman. Yes, long only semi-necessary footnotes such as these are found in this book named after a book and the parody will follow suit in style.

This house stood alone on the edge of a small town. It wasn't very special. Thirty years old, made of brick, and had four windows with a size and proportion with the rest of the house that was anything but aesthetically pleasing. The only person to which this house held any special value was a man named Arthur Kirkland or is it Dent? For the sake of this parody and in order to prevent confusions between the main character from the book named after a book (who's first name just also happens to be Arthur) the main character of this parody is known as Arthur Kirkland. In the universe of this parody the main character's differences with the one from the original book this story parodies don't stop at last names. Arthur Dent is about thirty years old; tall; and dark haired. Arthur Kirkland, on the other hand, is younger, twenty-three on that particular Thursday. He isn't very tall either standing in at 175 cm (or 5' 9" for those who prefer the imperial system) and his hair is anything but dark being a shade of blond that was paler but certainly not dull, and when hit with certain lights his hair even gained a golden halo. His eyebrows, however... well the best way to describe them would be thick, expressive, and surprisingly well kept. Visually they were one of his more well-known traits. The similarities between the two didn't stop at first names. For starters both characters are English. Arthur Dent used to live in London and moved to this small house as London made him nervous and irritable. Arthur Kirkland outside this universe still lives in London, but for the sake of this parody he has also moved (his reason being escaping his siblings). Their personalities are similar too, both being never quite at ease with themselves and being prone to worrying. Arthur Kirkland just being a little fierier but an English gentleman nonetheless.

The night before this particular Thursday it rained quite heavily as it is known to do in England. The ground outside was wet and muddy, however, that morning the sun was shining bright and clear as it shone down on Arthur's house for what was to be the very last time.

See, it hadn’t properly registered for Arthur that the council wanted to knock his house down and build a bypass through the rubble.

That morning at eight o'clock Arthur woke up not feeling very well. He did not enjoy the sunshine. Instead, he wanted to crawl back in his blankets and curse the sun away as it was effectively making his morning much worse. Instead, he forced himself to get up which he did quite blearily. He got up, opened a window, caught sight of a bulldozer outside, found his red, fuzzy slippers and slipped them on, grabbed his favorite dark green dressing gown and slipped that on as well, then stomped off to the bathroom for a wash.

Toothpaste on the brushㅡso. Scrub.

Shaving mirrorㅡpointing at the ceiling. Arthur adjusted it. For a split second a second bulldozer could be seen in the reflection as it was visible through the bathroom window. He completely ignored this and with the mirror now properly adjusted it show Arthur his own face and his stubble which he promptly shaved off. Arthur washed his face, dried it off, then stomped off to the kitchen to find something to eat or drink for that matter.

Kettle, plug, fridge, milk, tea. Yawn.

For a brief moment the word bulldozer found it’s way into Arthur’s thoughts. He tried to find something to connect the word to.

The bulldozer outside the kitchen window was certainly a big one. Large enough to take care of a house.

For a moment Arthur stared at it.

“What an ugly shade of yellow.” He thought before stomping back to his bedroom to get dressed. He didn’t get very far.

Before he got back to his bedroom Arthur took a quick pit stop at the bathroom in order to fetch a glass of water to drink. Then he drank another. It was at this point Arthur began to suspect that he was in fact hungover. It wasn't uncommon for Arthur to wake up with an annoying alcohol induced headache but the question that crossed his mind is why? Of course in order to be hung over one had to have been drinking. So why had he been drinking? His thoughts were interrupted by a flash of color in the shaving mirror. "Yellow..." was all that was thought before Arthur proceeded to the bedroom.

In the middle of picking out his clothes memories of last night suddenly came rushing back. “The pub,” was the first thing that came to mind, “of course it was the bloody pub! Where else could it have been?!” After that short internal argument more memories returned but in a very vague fashion. He remembered being fairly upset about... something. He’d been complaining about it to other random pub goers in a drunk whining sort of fashion. The clearest visual recollection was of the glazed, drunken looks on the faces of others in the pub. What was it that made him feel the need to become absolutely smashed over? Arthur wracked his brain trying to remember. “Something... bypass...” He mumbled. Deciding that is wasn’t extremely important he resumed getting ready for his day.

Dear God though his hangover was almost unbearable. Whatever he did he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something extremely important. Arthur caught a glance of himself in the wardrobe mirror, proceeded to call himself an utter twat for drinking too much yet again, then attempted to fix his messy hair in the mirror. It didn’t help much, his hair was naturally a mess. He settled for the usual level of tame which meant the choppy layers of his hair laid relatively neatly. The word yellow came to mind again and Arthur tried to find something to connect the word to.

Fifteen seconds later he was outside his house laying in the mud in front of a big yellow bulldozer that was advancing up his garden path.

Mr. Raivis Galante was, as they say, only human. Which meant that he's a bipedal carbon-based life form which shared a common ancestor with apes which live on earth. Mr. Raivis Galante more specifically was in his late teens to early twenties (though he looked to be around 15), short, scrawny, and worked for the local council. On a completely unnecessary note Mr. Galante was a direct male descendant of Alexander Nevsky. He really didn't look much like Alexander and was by no means a warrior type, in fact, he was a nervous, worried man. The reason he was particularly nervous and worried that Thursday morning was his job has something go seriously wrong as Arthur Kirkland's house was supposed to be demolished by the end of the day and Arthur Kirkland was laying in the mud in front of his house preventing the bulldozers from doing their job.

“C-come off it, Mr. Kirkland,” he said with a nervous stutter, “you can’t win, y-you know. I-It’s not like you can lay in f-front of the bulldozer forever.” The small man tried to look intimidating by trying to produce a fire in his eyes but it was near impossible for him to look anything close to intimidating.

Arthur lay there in the mud unmoving as he spat back with his usual English stubbornness.

“I’m game,” he responded confidently, “we’ll see who rots here first. I know it won’t be me.”

“I-I���m afraid you have to a-accept it,” Mr. Galante said fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, “w-we have to build this bypass, a-and we’re going to do it!” He ended up shouting trying to swallow his nerves, but the effort had no effect.

"Well this is the first I've heard of it," Arthur commented casually, "why's it got to be built in the first place?"

The smaller man’s hands balled into fists but he forced them to relax. He wouldn’t be able to hit Arthur anyways. “What do you mean why?” His stutter was gone thanks to his building frustrations. “It’s a bypass, you’ve got to build it.”

A bypass is a simple structure that allows people to get to one point to another and vice versa. Arthur lived in between these hypothetical points and found no use for the bypass. Raivis wanted to be far away from any of these points especially if it meant he wasn't dealing with Arthur. However, none of this justifies the young man's logic over why the bypass must be built.

Raivis shifted his weight around uncomfortable not being able to find a suitable balance. Someone hadn’t done their job right and he could only pray that it wasn’t him.

“Y-you were entitled to make a-any suggestions or protests back when it would have b-been appropriate, Mr. Kirkland.” The small man’s stutter returned along with his nerves. He avoided making eye contact with the Brit lying on the ground as he continued to shift uncomfortably.

“Appropriate time?” Arthur mused with fake interest. “Appropriate time?” When he repeated the phrase his tone was less amused. “The first I knew about this bloody construction project was when a workman just happened to pop by my house the other day. He was the first to tell me anything about your bypass by informing me quite bluntly that my house was to be demolished. Demolished, and at first I thought he was there to clean the bleeding windows! Which I might add that he did charging me a fiver before dropping that bomb on me.” Arthur was absolutely fuming. Even laying there in the mud in his dressing gown he managed to be frightening.

"B-but Mr. Kirkland, th-the plans have been available in the planning office for the l-last nine months." Mr. Galante tried fruitlessly to reason with the disgruntled Englishman in front of him but Arthur was having none of it.

"Oh, as soon as I found out I went down to your planning office to see them. I headed straight there yesterday afternoon. They weren't exactly somewhere a normal person could find them easily. Absolutely no effort was put into calling attention to them!" Arthur's words were dripping with venom and sarcasm.

“B-but the plans were on d-display...”

“On display?! I had to go into the cellar to find them!”

“Th-that’s the display department.”

“I had to bring a torch with me!”

“Th-the lights must have gone...”

“Yes apparently so had the stairs.”

“B-but you found the notice, d-didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Arthur said seething with rage, “yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard.’ ”

Mr. Galante frowned slightly as a cloud passed overhead casting a shadow over Arthur and his house the former of which lay in the cold mud propped up by his elbow. He just couldn’t understand why Arthur would defend such a house so feverishly.

“It’s not as if it’s a particularly nice house...” he mumbled showing off his bad habit of saying the wrong things at the wrong time. It usually resulted in making someone angry, if they weren’t angry already.

“Well excuse me, but I happen to like it.” Arthur replied with an incredibly sarcastic voice.

“You’ll like the bypass!” Raivis tried to counter.

“Oh piss off!” Arthur spat. “Just piss off and go away, and take your bloody bypass with you! You haven’t got a leg to stand on and you know it!”

Mr. Galante’s mouth opened and closed several times as he wracked his brain for something to say in response to Arthur’s outburst. His mind for a moment was filled with visions of Arthur’s house being torn apart in the most horrific of ways some of which ended in a blaze of fire with Arthur himself running and screaming from the flaming ruin. Raivis was sometimes plagued with these dark thoughts but he could never act on them being too nervous and worried to do so.

"M-m-mr. Kirk-kland?" He stuttered trying to pull his thoughts back from the dark place they accidentally slipped into.

“Yes? What is it?” Arthur had no patience left in his voice.

“J-just wondering, do you have any idea how much damage a bulldozer would suffer if I  just let it roll straight over you?” The small, trembling man had no actual intention of doing such a thing, he just wanted to see if it would scare Arthur off.

“No, how much?” Arthur asked.

“None at all.” Raivis responded with bravado before storming off.

By curious coincidence, “None at all” is exactly how much suspicion Arthur held over whether his closest friends was in fact not an earth native life form. This friend was in fact from a small planet far away from Earth somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse not from a Gildford as this friend usually claimed.

#i wrote this so long ago #but it should be free of mistakes since I wrote it for school #The Hetalian's Guide to the Galaxy #crossover #Hetalia crossover #hetalia #hetalia fan #eventual usuk #haha #I couldn't even get Alfred into this chapter #APH England #APH America #aph usuk #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland #Alfred x Arthur #comment if you read the tags #comment if you want more #reblogs are greatly appreciated!! #i love getting comments #constructive criticism is welcome #Chibi's Writing