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mollymauk-teafleak · 2 years

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Uncharted Space

Look, I like characters who are strong on the outside dealing with insecurities so when that one particular letter from Ambrose to the last clones mentioned this idea, I was All Over It.

It just took me another reread of the book to finish the fic...

Please reblog and leave a comment on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

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Knowing they'll now be the penultimate clones, Kodiak and Ambrose get used to bodies that live past seventeen. One of them needs a little encouragement with this.

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It occurred to Ambrose that he hadn’t seen his own reflection in some time.

There were surprisingly few reflective surfaces on the Coordinated Endeavor, the Cusks built with retro space aesthetics in mind. Everything was crisp white polycarb in the technical areas or soft, neutral toned canvas in the living quarters, logos splayed proudly on walls like even here, in the furthest reaches of space, there would be someone to sell the brand to. There were the enormous observation deck windows, of course, you could see a faint imprint of yourself there, like a ghost standing alone in the inky blackness. But there was always something better to look at through the window, even hundreds of thousands of years past the Sun.

And the Aurora was even worse. There everything was stark, like bone to the Fédération’s snow. It was utilitarian and functional, hard edges because the time to sand them down and soften them could be better spent, every square inch put to some use. The same polycarb as past the orange door but kept the same colour it had come out of the printer so it was slightly off.

So no glass either side of the small corridor that separated each country’s design. Glass was fragile, glass was a risk. So was any kind of exposed metal, anything that could shatter or snap and leave rough edges. Definitely something to avoid in low gravity.

And around two people who were isolated together in a confined habitat hurtling through space, Ambrose supposed. Though that went in the file of Things We Don’t Think About.

Really, the only place to see his own face staring back at him these days was the small mirror in the area he was supposed to wash and brush his teeth, tightly screwed into the wall and lined in plastic casing. And even that, he hadn’t found himself looking over lately. As he brushed his teeth or washed his hair with that awful dry soap stuff or brushed through his curls, he would wander around the bunk, going through code on his bracelet, listening to music or even his boyfriend explaining some technical repair he’d be attempting the next day, never expecting Ambrose to understand but sorting it out in his own mind out loud. He never gave his reflection more than a glance.

And it shouldn’t even have occurred to him at all. Except suddenly Kodiak seemed unable to leave his own alone.

Kodiak always woke before Ambrose. They’d both spent their formative years in regimented training, they were used to snapping their eyes open hours before dawn but one of them was enjoying the freedom of floating through distant space with no instructors and no OS a little more than the other. Whenever he’d open his eyes to see the low ceiling he still smacked his head off at least once a week for the three years he’d been occupying it, the other half of the bunk would be empty, the blankets shaped to a body that wasn’t there anymore.

And this morning was no exception, there were very few of those on the Coordinated Endeavour. Ambrose yawned hugely, enough to make his jaw ache, stretching his arms as far as possible above his head with the lazy, contented confidence of someone who knew exactly where he would go from here. He would doze for a little while, let himself wake up slowly which he’d discovered gave him a much better start to the day and made him less of an asshole around noon. By then, Kodiak would finish whatever task he’d jumped out of bed to do and get hungry, like a semi-feral cat who’d finished surveying his territory. Ambrose would tempt him back into bed for a while, possibly just to hold him and let his body warm Kodiak back up, maybe for something a little more exertive if they were both in the mood. Then it would be breakfast, sitting at the table on opposite sides but with their legs tangled together underneath, talking and laughing about small, gentle things in their corner of the void.

The rest of the day would be completing tasks, keeping their home functional against the thousands of things that could kill them in deep space. Following OS directions and still feeling a pinch of anxiety when the task number ticked down, even with the years they’d now been safe. Safety being a relative concept out here.

Ambrose reclined in this easy confidence, the certainty of this and every day. You’d think their lives had become monotonous- and they had- but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially for two young men who’d grown up surrounded by structure. There was something domestic about it, something honest and reassuring. So he dozed with a soft smile on his face, a smile that widened when he heard footsteps come into the room.

Ambrose shifted onto his side and waited patiently for those strong arms to circle him and draw him close to the only other heartbeat for millions of miles. And found himself still waiting five minutes later. He cracked an eye open, glancing grumpily over his shoulder, to the side of the bunk that was annoyingly not being occupied by his boyfriend.

“Kodiak?” he mumbled, voice too croaky in that just-woken-up way to project much, rolling onto his back.

With no answer, he made himself sit up, blinking in the low light. The designers of the ship had tried to soften the stark, strip lighting for the sleeping quarters, showing a remarkable amount of forethought that astronauts shouldn’t have to risk hellish migraines just by waking up. The light was gentler, more yellowish, coming from glowing orbs set into the walls of the small space.

So when he saw Kodiak, standing in the washroom section of the bunk, he was edged in gold like some kind of angel. He was standing as far back from the small vacuum basin as the space allowed, face creased in a frown as his eyes fixed on the mirror. His hair was pulled away from his face into a loose knot, to keep it out of his eyes as he worked, but now it added intensity to his gaze, almost like he was glaring at himself.

“Kodiak?” Ambrose repeated, voice woken up now, “Morning.”

That his boyfriend heard, blinking like he was waking up too and turning. The intensity of his eyes softened though he was clearly still distracted, half of his mind on whatever he’d seen in the mirror.

“Morning,” his voice had a gruff kind of rumble to it, clearly the first words he’d spoken since waking up and he’d saved them for Ambrose, “Sleep well?”

Ambrose nodded, tilting his head slightly, “Are you coming back to bed?”

If he said yes, it would be forgotten like it had never happened. Ambrose knew better than to try and draw something out of his taciturn partner before he was ready. They’d had years together, messages from years distantly passed, though he doubted he’d have needed more than a day to put that conclusion together. He knew if Kodiak wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, he would simply say yes, he would climb into bed next to his partner and they would let go of it as they took hold of each other.

Kodiak turned back to the mirror, the corner of his mouth turning down. Ambrose’s heart went out to him, though he kept himself quiet. He understood completely, how it felt to see your own face and remember those ones in the bags, pressed down and vacuum sealed and obscured but still so painfully familiar, your eyes and nose and mouth cultured and stored ready to be used. And then thrown away.

Knowing you’d once looked exactly like that before pure circumstance decided you’d be woken up next. That your body wasn’t one of the ones another Ambrose would need to destroy.

Instead you ended up being that Ambrose who had to cut his own throat eight times over and see that same face staring up at him as he’d done it.

Maybe there was a reason he hadn’t seen his reflection in a while.

“Kodiak…” he murmured, voice soft, preparing for a day when it would just be too much and they wouldn’t end up leaving the safety of their darkened bunk.

“Do you think I’ve gained weight?”

Ambrose was caught off guard by that, he had to admit.

“Huh?”

Kodiak frowned into the mirror again and pressed his hands to his cheeks, like he was massaging them into another shape, “I’ve gotten fat.”

Ambrose pursed his lips, “I suppose you have lately. But you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Kodia’s hands dropped to his waist where he’d tied off his jumpsuit. He did the same massaging motion to his hips and the stomach there, like he was trying to mould something different out of them. His frown deepened and worry crept in at the corners of his eyes.

“It is. When did this happen? I eat the same goddamn food every day. I eat rations.”

Ambrose sat up fully and crossed his legs underneath him, voice patient. “Well...we’re older than we’ve ever been allowed to be before, aren’t we? We’re not teenagers any more and our metabolisms have changed.”

“Our,” Kodiak scoffed, “You’re not going to fat just because you turned twenty four.”

Ambrose decided that would be enough, reaching his hands out and making motions for him to come close, grasping the way a small child would, “Come here…”

Kodiak hesitated, the mirror and its discomforts proving to have a strong gravitational pull. But Ambrose had learned patience, rather forcibly, and just let his smile grow, expectantly. After a few moments, Kodiak took the hint and loped over to the bunk, climbing aboard and moving into his arms. He felt the weight of him against one shoulder, turning with it, pressing his boyfriend back against the relative softness.

Boyfriend. It felt like such a small word for what they were to each other. Partner. Fellow survivor. Only other human, or at least human-adjacent being, for billions of miles. It just didn’t seem like enough, but what word would be? But Ambrose was getting distracted. Part of living this life was keeping such thoughts at a comfortable distance so they didn’t crush you, preferably in that file of Things We Don’t Think About.

So he focused instead on kissing his Kodiak, until those lines of frustration eased and his body became soft and pliant under Ambrose’s. There were no stars or planets to chart out here in the barrens of the outer galaxy but that didn’t mean he’d been slacking. Instead he’d been making a careful catalogue of the spot behind Kodiak’s ear that made him shiver when he kissed it, the soft whine he’d make when he tangled his fingers in his hair, the way his pupils would blow wide like supernovas when he sucked on his fingers. Ambrose knew it all and wasn’t above weaponizing it.

Once Kodiak was boneless and ready to hear him, Ambrose kissed a path back up his chest, the dark hair silky against his lips, and balanced his chin on his breastbone so he could look into his deep, clay eyes.

“You do look a little softer,” Ambrose murmured, stroking through his sleep tousled hair, “So maybe you have gained some weight. But I really don’t think that’s a negative, Kodiak, not at all.”

Kodiak sighed, his breath warm on Ambrose’s cheek, warm and so beautifully alive, “I know it’s foolish. But looking a certain way was the only thing I was told to care about for the first seventeen years of my life. Being strong. Being fit. Moving outside those very strict parameters still feels like I’m failing.”

Ambrose felt the not unfamiliar desire to punch someone high up in the Dimokratía government right in the teeth. Whoever was responsible for the way Kodiak thought about himself.

With anyone who’d ever been responsible for his lover’s neuroses long dead and probably turning into sediment millions of miles away, Ambrose settled instead for a soft kiss on Kodiak’s lips.

“I know. Getting used to a different life purpose is a hell of a headache. But you’re not doing it alone?”

That twitched his noble warrior’s mouth into a smile, though something was clearly bothering him, “I know…”

Ambrose cocked an eyebrow at him, moving one hand down to knead Kodiak’s thigh where it fell lazily across his lower back, like he was physically working the words free.

Eventually he sighed, resting back against the pillow, his hair a blue black waterfall against the cream. It was getting longer, Ambrose would need to trim it again soon.

“It’s just…look, I know the people you- well, the original Ambrose- used to choose…and the people you find attractive in the streams we watch…and, you know, the other things we watch together…” His voice was trailing off, fading as his confidence ran out, like a radio losing the frequency, untilt the last of it came rushing out, “The people you find attractive don’t look like me and I want to look good so you don’t get sick of me.”

Ambrose sat up so fast he nearly cracked his head on the top of the bunk again but managed to stop just short.

“Alright, you’ve gone and done it,” he prodded Kodiak in the chest.

Ambrose wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the tough Dimokratía soldier he was in love with look quite so alarmed. Maybe when they’d been battling the OS for their very lives but it was a close thing, “I’ve gone and done what exactly?”

“I am about to make a very big mushy speech and your emotionally constipated ass is going to have to sit there and listen,” Ambrose grinned in triumph.

“I’ve gotten less…constipated? That’s a disgusting expression…” Kodiak blinked, eyes darting like he was going to see if he could bolt for the door. Ambrose shifted his weight down just in case and used his hands to cup his boyfriend’s face, just because he could.

“Listen to me, Kodiak Celius. The old Ambrose, the one who chose people who don’t look like you, was a complete and total idiot. He would never have been able to love you and it was his loss entirely. The Ambrose in front of you right now does and always will think that you are the single most beautiful human in the universe.”

“There isn’t a lot of competition?” Kodiak pointed out wryly.

“Hush. You’d be surprised how little that has to do with it, it certainly surprises me. I love your face, I love your hooked nose, I love that sharp bow in your lips, I love how thick your eyelashes are, I love the way your shoulder muscles move under your shirt, I love the scar on your arm, I love your ass for obvious reasons and your dick for even more obvious reasons… and yeah, I love your stomach. I love that it’s soft and slightly rounder than it was before,” Ambrose kissed it, like that would help prove his point.

And just because he wanted to.

“Because it means my Kodiak was the Kodiak who got to live to be twenty four and who got to realise his metabolism isn’t as fast as he thought it was. I love learning that about you and I’m going to love learning all the little things the other Ambroses and Kodiak’s never got to realise about their ageing bodies. Maybe my hairline is going to start receding or I’ll get more freckles or you’ll decide you like wearing your hair a different way. And it will be beautiful because we were the ones who got to see it. I got to live and my Kodiak got to live and I’m never going to feel anything but lucky when I look at your beautiful, soft stomach. Okay?”

Kodiak’s eyes were swimming by the time he was done, his mouth soft but hands tight on Ambrose’s hips like he was scared he might be pulled away from him, “Okay.”

Ambrose grinned, running his thumbs across Kodiak’s cheeks, “And I mean, come on. You think my decadent Fédération self is going to complain about having more of a good thing? You think I’m over here like ‘oh cruel world, there’s more of Kodiak’s phenomenal ass for me to grab while he’s doing that thing he does with his hands, what a terrible fate-’”

“Alright, alright,” Kodiak snorted, making a half-hearted show of trying to put his hand over Ambrose’s mouth, “You’re ruining it, Cusk…”

Ambrose hummed, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to the palm, “Yeah, yeah. I love you, Kodiak Celius.”

His eyes were the softest thing for a million miles as he murmured back, “I love you too, Ambrose Cusk.”

Warmth radiating through his body, Ambrose settled back into Kodiak’s arms, finger tracing a swirling pattern across his chest like the path of the points of light beyond the window. Beneath the pad of his finger, calloused again after years of playing his violin, the heartbeat he loved so much echoed, each pulse a hard won triumph. Every cell of the both of them, a victory.

“I’m still cutting my portions down,” Kodiak murmured against his hair.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, darling,” Ambrose hummed, breathing in the comforting smell of exertion and exercise, the heady musk of his skin, “It’s your body.”

“It is,” Kodiak seemed happy with that, repeating it to himself as he pressed his thumbs into Ambrose’s spine, “It’s mine.”

But Ambrose wasn’t sure he was ready to relax, as good and slightly ferocious as his boyfriend’s massages were.

“Though…are you sure I convinced you how completely and totally in love with you I am?” Ambrose purred, kissing Kodiak's neck, “You don’t need a physical demonstration?”

He felt as much as heard the chuckle that rumbled through his lover’s chest, “Well. If you wanted to make sure my self esteem was well and truly repaired…”

Ambrose was already smiling as he rose up to meet the kiss Kodiak gave him, hands already sliding into their familiar places, limbs already moving into the comforting closeness they knew so well. Everything familiar but new every single day as they moved into the uncharted space of their own futures.

Ambrose thought he would start seeking out his reflection more often. After all, he’d fought hard for it.

#the darkness outside us #tdou #Ambrose cusk #kodiak celius #fic #ambrose #kodiak

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theimmaterialplace · 3 years

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holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 2: falling

Chapter Summary: The morning after the reveal of Emily’s death and a conversation with Spencer.

Contains: mentions of cat-calling and panic attacks, light kissing, grief and mourning.

Word Count: 2.4k

Comments: this fic is my new baby and i will nurture it to its end. this is gonna end up being a long story and emily won't reappear for at least another 25k so there's that! also look i gave a little flashback to their relationship! in case i didn't elaborate enough, spencer and reader are quite close and have known each other since elle left which ill get into in another chapter! so that's why she has some of his clothes and why he's so close to her and latching onto her. reader is going through it rn but she's shoving it aside which isn't healthy and not good in the long run so she'll have to adress it eventually but that's not now! she's kinda numb rn and trying to keep it together for spencer which is going... as well as one would expect.

i think my favorite line in this was "The song ends but the moment doesn’t." and "But all moments have to come to an end."next chapter, we'll be getting the rest of the bau team (yay!) and emily's funeral (💔)! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! i love hearing feedback even if it’s something small!

also i’m gonna do a taglist for this fic so if you’d like to be added, send me an ask with the username you’d like to be tagged with!

masterlist | read on ao3

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

- Harry Styles, "Falling"

When the morning comes, you wake up first on your couch and feel a crick in your neck. The night’s memories rush back to your mind and you immediately feel nauseous. You manage to very carefully separate yourself from Spencer and manage to make it to the restroom in time to vomit.

It’s awful.

You don’t even know why it’s still hitting you so hard when Spencer is the one that should be feeling like this. He’s the one that’s known her for years and you were nothing but a fling for her.

You don’t glance at yourself when you exit your bathroom, already knowing the state you’re in. When you enter your living room, Spencer is still out so you decide to do the next best thing you can for him.

You’re thankful that you already have some leftover ground coffee beans from the day before because you really don’t want to wake him up before you can put a cup of coffee in his hands. Going through the motions of making coffee and then a simple breakfast is calming.

You’re unsure if Spencer will be able to stomach anything if he’s anything like you are now so you make the lightest meal you can. When the coffee machine beeps, you grab two mugs and begin making the coffee the way he likes.

It’s as you’re making your own coffee that you’re interrupted by Spencer calling out your name. You turn around and find him rubbing his eyes and looking a bit better than when he first came in.

“Hey, Spence. I have some coffee if you want some,” you grab his mug at his nod and place it in his trembling hands, “it’s just how you like. Ninety percent sugar and cream and ten percent actual coffee.” A small smile crept onto his face at your joke and you’re glad you’ve managed to make him smile even if it’s just a little bit.

He sips on his coffee and you decide to plate the food that’s still warm onto your dining table. He follows and takes the seat across from you, mumbling his thanks. You both eat in silence for there are no words or fun quips to share with Emily gone.

Spencer is the first to break the silence. “Thank you… Thank you for last night. I couldn’t stay with my team after that. It was just too personal. I know I’ve mentioned it before but I’m the youngest of the team and though they mean well, they tend to baby me. I… I couldn’t handle it so I left them.” He pauses, fingertips tapping in a familiar tune on the ceramic mug, “I didn’t want to be alone and you’re the first person I thought of. I know you know… knew Emily and that you would just be there for me so thank you.”

He looks directly into your eyes as he says this and you know how serious this must mean for him so you reach out for his hand, which he extends for you, and squeeze it in your own. You have to articulate your response properly because you don’t want to scare him off by saying the wrong thing.

Maintaining eye contact, you speak, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you, Spencer. To be the first person you came to means a lot to me. I hope you know I’ll always be there for you, for the small and the big things. While I may not be as close… While I may not have been as close to Emily as you were, I will still grieve for her. Just knowing how much she meant to you is enough for me to know how much a beautiful person she was. From the little glimpses I’ve seen of her and the tidbits you’ve told me over the years, I know this is going to be one of the hardest things for you… and if you let me, I’d like to be there for you.”

He’s like an open book after you’ve told him your resolve, like the book you’ve reread more times you can count and the original copy has been worn down due with some of the passages long gone but memorized in your heart. His eyes are watering again and he’s out of his seat faster than you can comprehend and he lifts you up and his arms wrap around you tightly, as if you’re his lifeline.

He whispers words of gratitude into the crown of your head and you hold him back just as tightly, tears springing to your eyes. You’d do anything to take his pain away and if this is all you can do then you’ll do it willingly.

“I want you here,” his voice is low and wrecked, “I.. I don’t want to be alone. Please. Please don’t leave me. Everyone leaves, Please…”

You look up to him and grab his face gently in your hands, wiping the tears from his cheek as you say, “I’m not leaving, Spencer. I’m right here. I’m here for you always. I promise not to leave you. I’m with you. I’m here.” At this, he looks even more broken and only nods his head, breath hitching and his sobs ceasing for the moment. You know it’s not enough for him so you guide one of his hands to the pulse on your wrist.

“Count.” And he does, his mind focuses on the beat and it calms him; it reassures him you’re still alive.

When the minute is over, he looks significantly more calm and less likely to cry again. He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re really there and you pull him in again. Physical contact is meant to ground people and you only hope this helps him.

A shrill ring interrupts your thoughts and you know it’s Spencer’s because you’ve heard it many times before from him and Emily both.

He lets go of you to answer it and he tenses immediately as he hears whoever it is on the other line. He says a few things in response and his eyes become glassy again. He hangs up only a few moments later and turns to you.

“My team wants me to help inform Emily’s mother of her death so we can start planning her funeral…” He closes his eyes shut and his fingers clench into his palms. Slowly, you walk up to him and unfold his palms and find red, crescent indents on his palms.

“I can drive you…? I know you took the metro here. Let me help, Spencer.” He just nods and you lead him to the bathroom to help tidy him up. You turn the faucet on and hand him his toothbrush, your fingers lingering on Emily’s red one before grabbing your own. It’s a familiar routine and as you finish, you leave to let him use the restroom and wash up while you rack through your closet to find something he's left over to wear for the day.

You manage to find a striped brown button up and matching brown pants while you put on a simple outfit, a grey long sleeve with jeans and a pair of black vans. You knock on the door and he opens it after a moment and takes his clothes from you. You go back to your room to fix up your hair and after a while you deem it acceptable.

As you’re doing your makeup routine, you hear a knock then, “Are you decent?”

“Come in, I’m almost done.” The door opens and you catch his reflection in your mirror. He looks better but the despair that clings to him is obvious to you.

He lets a small smile fill his face and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you still match it. “I’m surprised you still had this. I had wondered where this outfit had gone but I remember that when I stayed over that night I had to leave immediately and left it here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t just throw it away and I kept forgetting to give it back to you. It’s a good thing otherwise you’d be left in some sweatpants and a Star Trek t-shirt.” He lets out a small laugh at that and you’re grateful you’re able to get him to genuinely laugh.

“Okay, I’m done. We can head out now.” He follows you out of your apartment and into the passenger seat of your car. The ride is silent to Quantico, unlike the usual rides you give him where you play a new genre for him and for him to compare it to his classical music and talk about some facts of the music.

When you finally arrive, you both sit there. He doesn’t want to leave and face reality and you don’t want to be left alone with only the truth to haunt you.

Spencer breaks the silence once again, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know where I would’ve gone last night… If you can, can you pick me up later? I… I can’t be with the team right now. It’s just too fresh.”

“Of course, Spencer. Just send me a text a bit before and I’ll be there.” He nods and gives you a quick hug before leaving and your eyes follow him until he’s nothing but a pinprick in your vision.

Like a switch flipped, you can only think of Emily. It’s not fair that she… that Emily is gone, that’s she’s dead. You never thought this was a probability. She was always such an impervious figure in your mind, a larger than life kind of person. You knew it was a possibility in her line of work but it never crossed your mind that it could actually happen to her. She was a strong woman, never letting anything affect her and you can’t believe she’s gone.

You shouldn’t even feel this strongly for her, you’re not meant to be more than a friend to her but you can’t help but think of her as your lover. Every little moment you’ve shared with her flashes in your mind. One in particular stands out, one that had happened only a month or two ago.

“Ugh, Emily. We’ve gotta go or else tomorrow morning is gonna be hell for the both of us.” You drag her away from the bar and shoot a smile at the bartender who only shakes her head and mouths “have a nice night”.

“ No ,” she whines, “I don’t want to, babe. We were having so much fun. Let’s stay here and dance some more.” She grins at you, taking your hand and pulling you back into the crowd. You let her because you can never say no to her, not when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile.

Her mood is infectious and you let her have this one last dance. It’s not even a song you know but you think it might be your new favorite with the way she twirls you around and looks at you with affection and fondness.

Being with Emily is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, even if this is a temporary thing. You would do anything for her, even leave her alone if that’s what she wanted.

The song ends but the moment doesn’t.

“Okay, okay, Em. We really need to go now.” She pouts at you but relents and follows you out of the club.

Before you reach your car, she pulls you in, her hands cradling your face, and she’s looking at you in wonder, “Y’know I can’t believe you’re actually here. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You mean so much to me. I hope you know that.” She leans in and kisses you. You savor every moment of it, feeling her smile against your lips. Like an imp, she grins widely and leaves multiple pecks around your lips, never quite touching.

It’s just you and her in that moment and she’s never seemed more lovely than in that exact moment.

Deciding that her actions are enough, you grab her by the chin and your free arm wraps around her waist so that she’s flush against you and slam your lips onto her own. Every emotion you’ve felt for her is poured into the kiss and you hope she can feel it. It’s passionate and messy and it leaves you wanting more.

She lets out a small moan when you move your mouth to pepper kisses onto her jaw and to suck on her sweet spot, sighing praises into her skin as if they’ll imprint on her, an irrefutable claim.

You’re not sure how much time passes between that moment but you only stop when you hear multiple wolf whistles and she groans before pulling away from you and yells at the offenders, “Shows’ over, you fucks!” Then she turns to you and leers, “We’ll finish this back at my place.”

You’re only able to nod and look at her in awe, “Emily Prentiss… what a woman you are. I’ll never be able to forget you know?”

She smiles even wider at your admission, and beckons you forward and of course you come closer and she admits quietly, “You won’t ever have the chance to. I plan on never letting you go.”

But all moments have to come to an end.

If only that was the truth because she never brought up the conversation the morning after. Whether she actually remembered it and shoved it aside or she genuinely couldn’t remember, you can’t decide what’s worse. You never mention it because you don’t want to ruin something that already works and now… Now you would never have the chance to find out because Emily was dead.

Tears well up in your eyes and you recognize the signs of an oncoming panic attack. It’s with a wet laugh that you realize that you were right, your dramatic thoughts from the night she texted you had come true.

Emily Prentiss would haunt you forever and you’ll let her if it means you’ll never forget what she sounded like or what each gleam in her eye or each smile meant.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #my writing #holding on

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fayemarvels · 3 years

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Two sides of the glass pt.1

Lokixfem!reader

Part Two:***

Summary: Loki's punishment for his New York attack is a cell in Avengers tower. But the worst torture is being away from his wife, who is stuck on Asgard. Will she find a way to get to him

Warnings: none, bad writing

Word count: 1.6k

! Please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you!

my masterlist: ***

also, this is part one, if you like it and would like to read part two, comment your username and I will tag you.

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It has been 7 months since she last saw him. Odin forbade it. She tried to reason with him but he shrugged her off. She was fed up.

“I want to see my husband, you can’t keep me away from him.” She declared but shut her mouth when the All-father glared at her.

“I won’t allow you to see him, or have any contact with him. This is his punishment. Now leave, I have more important things to tend to.” He glared at (Y/N) and she nodded.

She walked through the hallways of the palace and tried to not cry from the frustration.

“Lady (Y/N), wait up.” She could hear someone shouting at her and she turned towards the voice. It was Thor. He walked quickly towards her and she smiled sadly at him.

“Hey, Thor what’s up?” She asked in a monotone voice and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you but I heard you talking to my father and I think I have an answer to your problem.” She looked at him with wide eyes.

“You will take me with you?” she gasped but her expression fell when he shook his head.

“I’m afraid I’m not able to do that at the moment.” He then reached to the pocket on his leather satchel and pulled out some paper and envelopes.

“You could write some letters to him, tell him how much you miss him or something.” He suggested and grinned widely.

“You are the best Thor.” She kissed his cheek and ran to her quarters.

***

They have been exchanging for about 4 months before Odin realized and called her in to talk to her. When the guards first called her in, she nearly passed out from fear. She knew what happened to people who didn’t respect his orders. She took a sharp breath in and started walking towards the throne room.

When she stepped into the room, the first person she saw was Thor. She looked at him puzzled and he just shook his head. He was right, this wasn’t the time.

“If I remember correctly I forbade you from contacting him or seeing him. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He spoke, and the tone of his voice made (Y/N)’s hands shake.

She shook her head and looked to the ground.

“I don’t have anything to say, your highness.” She awaited the worst. What would he do to her? Throw her into the prison? Or maybe send her to another planet so she wouldn’t be able to talk to Loki ever again?

“Pack your stuff. You will leave for Midgard today with Thor.” Her head snapped to look at him.

“Thank you your highness I really appreciate it.” He nodded.

“I won’t be merciful the next time you disrespect me and my wishes.” His voice boomed through the halls but she didn’t care. She would be able to see her husband. And that’s all that mattered.

***

When they landed, it was night. (Y/N) looked around her and saw the tall buildings above her. She fell in love with the city at the first sight.

“Come on, the Avengers tower is only a couple blocks away,” Thor said and the girl beside him nodded. The walk was quite short but very interesting.

The city was so alive; she couldn’t get enough of it. After a few minutes of walking, they stopped. They stood in front of a huge tower, with a big A at the top. Thor took her wrist into his hand and pulled her lightly towards the entrance.

He greeted the receptionist, the security and walked towards the elevator. (Y/N) wasn’t new to the Midgardian technology. She quite enjoyed Midgard and all things that come with it.

The door closed behind them and (Y/N)’s mind started to wander. ‘What will he say when he sees her? Will he be happy? Will he be angry at her? She didn’t come to see him for nearly a year, she wouldn’t blame him.'

She came back to reality when the elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

“The team doesn’t know who you are so it will surprise them.” He explained and she hummed in acknowledgment.

“Let’s do this.” She rubbed her palms together and they walked out of the elevator together. The pair walked down the hallway. They stepped into a room with some couches and a bar.

“Hello, friends I am back.” Thor cheered and the people looked in his direction.

“I also brought a friend with me.” He looked behind him and all people in the room looked at her.

A tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes came closer to her and offered his hand. She took it, and they shook hands.

“I’m Steve Rogers, it’s nice to meet you ma’am” he greeted and (Y/N) introduced herself. She made a round around the room and introduced herself to everyone.

“So, what’s she doing here Point Break?” Tony asked and (Y/N) laughed at the nickname. Thor only glared at her.

“She came to see Loki.” He stated and the room went quiet. Natasha glared at her

“Why do you want to see a mass murderer?” She questioned and (Y/N) explained.

“Long story short, he is my husband and I haven’t seen him in nearly a year.” Clint choked on his water and Bruce stepped away from her.

“Look, I know you don’t like him I still do and I would really like to see him.” She stated and Tony nodded.

“Okay, Point Break, take her to his cell.”

Thor nodded and moved towards the hallway and (Y/N) followed him.

“Does he ever get to walk outside?” she asked and Thor shook his head.

“We can’t contain his power so he has to be in a cell. But Tony and Bruce are working on it.” He assured her and she nodded.

***

Loki’s cell was on floor -5. All the way below garages, and boilers and stuff. They stepped out of the elevator and (Y/N) immediately noticed the presence of heavily armed guards.

“Before you go in I have to walk you through some rules.” He started and she looked at him.

“You can’t go into his cell, open his cell door or take any items he gives you through the glass with his magic.” He clarified and (Y/N) hummed in agreement.

“I understand, can I go see him now?” Thor nodded and (Y/N) rushed to the room with his cell. When she stepped in, she took her surroundings.

The room was quite large, bland and about ¾ of it was just the cell. The ‘visiting area’ was pretty boring. A couch with some pillows and a blanket, a water fountain, and some magazines were the only things in the space.

Loki’s cell was more interesting. There was a comfortable-looking bed, a little bookshelf with some books, a writing desk, and a chair that came with it.

The door behind her closed and Loki’s head turned towards her. His eyes widened and he stood up from the bed.

“Is it really you, my love?” He whispered and (Y/N) nodded. Some tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away.

“I thought I would never see you again.” She confessed and came closer to the glass. She pressed the palm of her hand on it and he did the same.

Loki’s heart broke when he felt the cold glass instead of the warm touch of his lover.

“How did you even get here?” he questioned and (Y/N) laughed lightly.

“Odin let me actually.” She said and Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His lover smiled at his face and continued.

“I couldn’t believe it either.”

“My love, I have to ask you something.” She said and Loki tilted his head.

“Why did you do it?” she asked with tears in her eyes and he glared at her.

“Oh, so that’s why you are here huh? They sent you to get information from me” He chuckled sadly and turned his back to her. (Y/N) shook her head immediately.

“No, I came here because I wanted to see you. I am asking you because I want to understand.” He turned around and she could see the doubt in his eyes.

“I promised you I will help you and protect you, why would I break that promise.” (Y/N) questioned and she could see the doubt disappear from his eyes at the mention of their vows.

“I..” he started and she could see his bottom lip wobble a bit. She knew he did that when he was trying not to cry.

“He made me do it, it was horrible.” He rushed his words out.

“Who made you do this Loki, my love tell me please.” She pushed but he shook his head.

“Can we talk about this later I want to talk about something else; I promise I will tell you everything.” She sighed and nodded her head.

“Talk to me my love, what did you do here?” Loki looked to the ground.

“Nothing much. I read some books, waited for your letters, and wrote you letters.” He confessed.

“I have to say, the letters were the only thing that made me happy.” She said and he chuckled.

“I had it the same. When I was feeling sad, I reread your letters again, and again, and again.” She laughed and he looked at her lovingly.

***

The next 3 hours were filled with laughter, talking, crying, and ‘I love you’s. At about 2 a.m., Loki fell asleep with his cheek squished to the glass. (Y/N) looked at him and stood up. She took the pillows and blanket from the couch and made a little sleeping place beside the glass.

The girl could feel her eyelids drooping, and she looked at her sleeping husband one last time. They would get through this and be able to touch each other.

Eventually.

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

Thank you for 33 followers it's so crazyyy. I'm really happy you are enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading my work, and if you enjoyed this story, please check out my other work, like, reblog and follow.

If you have any ideas or requests for fanfics, blurbs, or headcanons, you would like me to write, please write me and I will do my best to write it.

If you think I could improve something about my work, warnings, or make it more inclusive somehow, please inform me and I will be more careful about it in my next work.

-Faye xxx

#marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu loki #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you

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harrystylesficrecs · 4 years

Text

Bye for now

Hi everyone honestly this blog just doesn’t idek like bring me happiness anymore??? like being on tumblr just doesn’t make me happy anymore. But I want to say thank you to all the amazing writers who are way too talented I’m honestly jealous. I’ve left my following tab on public so you can see all the writers I follow and each of them are amazing but I did want to take the time to mention my favorite writers that I follow on here. My blog will be here for the meantime idk if I’ll ever delete it and I also don’t know if I’ll ever come back to it but who knows. But I did think y’all deserved an explanation as to why I won’t be on here. Now here are my favorite authors in literally no particular order:

@alexandragramz she’s honestly one of the first fic writers I ever followed and all her writing is great I can never say enough good things.

@atlafan it’s the way I would constantly reread her writing everytime she put one out until she posted a new one.

@all-my-love-for-harry my shy little boy is one of the cutest series if not the cutest I’ve ever read on here truly 1000/10.

@heyyyharry I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again My Girl Trilogy is my favorite fic I’ve read on here without a doubt it deserves all the recognition and more.

@and-im-okay-with-it I literally reread all the ceo!harry/famous reader imagines like 50 times

@majorharry boxer harry....do I need to say anything more? but really all her writing please check it out.

@c-h-e-r-r-y-y SWEET AS HONEY!!!! SWEET AS HONEY!!!! SWEET AS HONEY!!!!!!!!

@harryforvogue there is not one thing on her masterlist I dislike.

@bopbopstyles for her like just a couple of weeks ago but wow I am just amazed at all her writing and how much I love it

@jarofstyles same as above just found them a couple weeks ago and I don’t think they get enough love for their writing so please check them out

@harrywritingsbyme if you are looking for smut look no further but also all her writing is great too!! check her out!!

@gucciharrywritings she’s taking a break soon but that shouldn’t stop you guys from readinf all her amazing writings and sending her nothing but love <3

@hestylesno she took a break from writing but I think she might be back now but even if she’s not still check out all her writing it’s so amazing and also sending her nothing but love <3

@bfharry honestly the sweetest and her imagine ‘Three’ is too adorable

@hes-writer it’s the way she’s the queen of angst for me I love it she’s on a temporary hiatus but if you see her pinned post you can request to read some of her writing but she also has some up sending her nothing but love <3

@tokyoharry honestly her writing just hits different like I love it sm

I honestly just want to include everyone on this list that I follow but I know this would be even way longer than it already is.

All of you who write fics are so talented, wonderful and literally the best just for being able to give people an escape from the world. I hope all of you achieve such amazing things in life beyond tumblr you all deserve everything good. Thank your favorite writers on here!!! Reblog their posts!!! Like their posts!!! Follow them!!!! Maybe one day I’ll come back but if not bye thank you all for following me!! 🤍🤍🤍

(I’ll be active for a day or two after this post goes up to see if I can answer some of the last asks in my inbox but no promises I just have little motivation to)

#fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #love to you all #stay safe #tpwk #till I decide to log on again lmaoo #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

Thunderfam Appreciation Post

I’m giving this a new post to prevent scroll city, but the original and several reblogs can be found by clicking the above link. Also, it’s an excuse to post a piccy of Virg cos any excuse, really :D

Many thanks to @willow-salix for writing this question list :D

Before I start, I just want to say that I value every member of this fandom. I’m often hopeless at communicating in group settings so I don’t speak to many peeps, but that is my failing, not anyone else’s. You are an amazing group and you have supported me and each other just brilliantly over the last nearly three years that I have been hanging with you guys. Thank you ever so much for all your wonderful support and encouragement. I’ve had so much fun and created so much stuff…you guys are amazing. Thunderfam rock!

Please note that my memory is pathetic and I will fail to mention everyone. Please do not take any offence if you aren’t listed below. That does not mean I don’t value you, I do, it just means I have swiss cheese between my ears.

-o-o-o-

Your favourite writer of your favourite boy.

@i-am-chidorixblossom You are a whumper and comforter after my soul. You speak the Virg :D @vegetacide I adore your turn of phrase and your description is to die for.

The person who's stories you will always read.

I try to read most fics that come across my dash, but there are a few that have me jumping up and down. @i-am-chidorixblossom , @vegetacide , @tsarinatorment , @scribbles97 , @the-lady-razorsharp , @janetm74 Of course, I regularly fail at this as some of you write a huge amount of fic and I am often playing catch up, but fic!

Who wrote the first fic you read in this fandom.

I landed on FF.net back in May 2018. I immediately ran into @the-lady-razorsharp who I knew from another fandom ten years prior and she was absolutely wonderful, drawing me in and introducing me around. I gobbled up several of her fics in the process.

Person you can talk to for the longest without a break.

I am hard to get started, persistence is required, but once started, it is usually hard to shut me up. @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment have all discovered that. Dangle a Virg, a plotline and stand back.

Person you can't be trusted to be left alone with.

Um, @vegetacide and I have plotted out the entirety of Warm Rain together…poor Virg. Add @the-lady-razorsharp into the equation and Virgil ends up with a beard, dressed in leather and riding a Harley – that was a hilarious evening. Between @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 Virgil gets grey hairs and has to go rescue Scott – because Scott inevitably ends up in the story :D @scribbles97 gets the blame for Gentle Rain – expand your horizons she said ::headdesk:: But then there was the time I left one random line about Eos visiting Virgil in the shower and went to bed. I woke up to hilarity and chaos as Thunderfam took the idea and ran with it! Love you guys :D

Person whose fic made you cry the most.

I know there were at least two fics that made me cry, but for the life of me I can’t identify them. I did cry writing my own fic – Flannel – and don’t tend to reread it for that reason. Purupuss traumatised me with A Quiet Day to the point I had to put it down and walk away for a bit ::wails::

Person whose fic made you laugh the most.

I have no idea. I know there are fic out there and I know I’ve read it, but without a complete list of everything I’ve read, I don’t have a clue.

Person whose fic made you think the most.

Aaaargh, I don’t have a master list so can’t remember everything. Staring at my paltry favourites list on FF.net (which was mostly gathered three years ago and never maintained), Purupuss’ ‘Brothers in Arms’ and her whole Quiet series has me wanting to write a Scott-Virgil telepathic fic (and she has given me permission to run with the idea, I just haven’t actioned it yet). Counterpoint by Swallow and Amazon is amazing and likely contributed to Sotto Voce.

Person you have laughed with the most.

I’m really not liking this ultimate one person idea. I’ve laughed with a lot of people in this fandom. I’ve candy cannoned a bunch of you as well :P There has been mad plot cackling, evil conspiring, fic written to stir pots and delight on purpose. Hell, I’ve even written fic that was purposefully a giant virtual hug because I’m so far away that even if half the world wasn’t in isolation, I couldn’t hug most of you. Sure, I talk with some of you more than others, and there is laughter in those chats…oh, god, so much cackling, poor, poor Tracy boys. But then there are also so many smiles both vocalised and not. Thunderfam is one of my happy places. Bring on the belly laughs :D

Your comfort fic that you'll go back and read again on a bad day.

I will often resort to my own fic when I’m really down simply because it helps me get to sleep :D and it is kinda tailored to me ::grins:: (and my memory is that bad I often forget what I wrote anyway – yes, it is that bad) But there are also a few on my FF.net favourites list. Mostly hurt/comfort in a Virg flavour. Cheesycheese, nhsweetcherry, A Small Rescue by Nalina, Breathe Easy and Under the Weather by @loopstagirl – several of hers, in fact – the Virg ones :D Pretty much anything that has Virg fainting and being looked after apparently :D Chiddi and Veggie fic, of course.

Favourite piece of fan art.

I have never been so honoured by artists before. This fandom has some amazing skills and I have been gifted some beautiful works. You guys are amazing (I keep saying it like a broken record, but you are).

Again, I’m stuck on having to list one and I can’t. I think Fanart Appreciation Month in January pretty much summed up my opinion.

Who have you known the longest in the fandom.

@the-lady-razorsharp followed by @vegetacide both wonderful peeps. I can’t miss out on @weirdburketeer either for her amazing support almost from day one.

Favourite OC.

I have to say that I really enjoy reading about Ray from @i-am-chidorixblossom ‘s fics :D He is so gentle and kind and just ::sigh:: Virg likes him lots :D Selene by @willow-salix is, of course, a major presence in the fandom and amazingly written. @hedwigstalons ‘ Claire is lovely.

Person who supports your work the most.

The Thunderfam? There have been some wonderful people who support all the time. @hedwigstalons @cg29 @janetm74 @weirdburketeer in particular have been amazing support liking and commenting on just about everything I write. I honestly don’t know how they do it. Plus several peeps over on FF.net and Ao3 who support me over there.

And then there are the poor souls who put up with me in chat and listen to my wibblies and whining and character checks and field random chunks of writing that get thrown their way. @scribbles97 @vegetacide @the-lady-razorsharp @tsarinatorment @i-am-chidorixblossom @onereyofstarlight @godsliltippy @willow-salix @janetm74 all have had random passages thrown at them at all times of the day and night by a crazy me begging for feedback. Does this work? Is this in character? Am I insane? What the hell is Scott doing? Is this John??? I give up, tell me what to do? Virgil is driving me insane! So, um, yeah

Person who's progress you are the most proud of.

I love those peeps who appear in fandom who start off poking around commenting and generally being lovely and then all of a sudden get out their own pens and start writing and they are frickin’ amazing! Both @janetm74 and @hedwigstalons come to mind in this department. Like holy cow – ‘here is my first fic and I’m not sure’ ::reads it:: Omigod! Where did you come from? That was amazing. Sit down here now, keep doing that writing thing, bloody hell! I think being brave enough to pick up a pen and join in is a major thing :D

Person who's story you think is underrated and should be read by more people.

If I find fic I like, I reblog it and shout about it. What I like is definitely skewed in a Virgil direction and this dictates often what I’m going to read first. I can’t reblog what I haven’t read. So, this equation will always be skewed by ‘reasons I haven’t read a fic’ which mostly involves either Virgil or the fact I’m juggling RL. So, my answer to this is if I think a fic needs to be shouted about, I shout about it.

Something you think people would say about you.

She’s nutty.

Silliest 'thing' you do with someone.

I’ve been known to write fic on the fly directly into chat windows to try and distract peeps going through shitty times.

Favourite pairing you now Stan because of someone's fic.

Virgil/Kayo because of @vegetacide for reasons I have blamed her for multiple times. @the-lady-razorsharp and @weirdburketeer were accessories to the fact.

Favourite headcanon from someone's fic.

Um, Virgil and coffee? I got that from somewhere and it has infiltrated my fic…a lot.

Ultimately, though, I feel most people I interact with contribute to my fic and how I’m feeling. This has been a wonderful experience. I try to return the support as much as I can, but sometimes it is a juggle between writing more, my stupid fluctuating mood, the demands of RL and my own creative drive. I hope I’ve helped a few peeps, because you guys have certainly helped me ::major group hug::

And yes, I hug a lot, because to be honest, I have no other descriptor to communicate how I feel, so you get buckets of hugs :D

Tagging the Thunderfam. Feel free to grab these questions and run with them. You’re all part of the gang whether you write, read, art, gif, screenshot, chat, babble, stare at Virgil all day...I know I do a lot of staring.

Nutty

(Thunderfam rocks!)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #thunderfam rock

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herondaleholly31 · 4 years

Text

The Book Swap Chris Evans X Reader

Overview: You and Chris read your favourite books to each other

A/N.....It’s been 84 years. No seriously it has been a LONG time since I’ve put something on here, but I’ve been taking a break writing imagines and I am beginning to love writing bigger projects. I’ve had lots of inspiration during lockdown however so those should start to come on here at some point. Thank you for continuing to show love to the rest of my imagines and I hope you like this one. If there’s any requests for both scenarios and people keep sending them to me and I’ll make sure to keep wokring through them :)

Like and Reblog!

Word Count: 2400

“Can we eat this in bed?” You jiggle the bowl of steaming pasta as you deliberately shuffle towards the bedroom. Chris looked up through his eyelashes and raised an eyebrow.

“You want our bed to smell like meatballs?”

“But it will just make all of this perfect.” You pointed to the large windows which were dark and splattered with rain just as a flash of lightning lit up the skyline. Dodger whimpered nervously from his bed and gnawed further into the neck of his lion toy. “Dodger can hang out with us, and we can watch TV in bed and be nice and warm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Dodger?” You cooed and bent down to rub behind the dog’s ears, holding your food high so he couldn’t eat any of it. Dodger stretched and padded to Chris’ feet. Chris looked at you both and smiled with fake reluctance. “Okay, fine. Come on Bubba,” he picked up his bowl and slowly walked towards the door, making sure not to trip over Dodger’s bounding in delight.

“Let’s just both promise we’re not going to spill anything,” Chris said jokingly, widening his eyes in a telling expression.

You rolled your eyes. “It was one hot chocolate.”

“And now there’s a stain that looks like someone pooed on one of the sheets.” Chris took your bowl and motioned his head for you the get into bed first. You turned on the fairy lights and lamps and dived underneath the puffy white duvet, wrapping it around your legs and hips while shifting it, so it was easy for him to get in too. Dodger sat at the end, his tail thwacking the air out of the duvet, eyes wide and staring at the food with longing. “No Bubba,” Chris warned as he gave you back your meal, “this isn’t for you. I’ve saved you some already.”

“You made extra meatballs for the dog?” You shook your head in disbelief. Chris shrugged as if to to say of course I would and then gently pushed Dodgers sniffling nose away. You ate in silence watching the TV, the storm growing louder outside. As stomach full, you sank into the pillows, feeling so comfortable you never wanted to leave. Chris left only once to take the bowls away and bring in cups of coffee, but apart from that, he seemed to sink beside you.

“Is it alright If we turn off the TV?” You asked a little while later, “I’m in the mood to read.”

“Yea, ‘course.” The TV went off, and you leaned over to your bedside table, shuffling further into the pillows as you got yourself comfortable to read. You had only read a few lines when Chris asked what you were reading.

“A room with a view,” you showed him the cover.

“Didn’t you read that at Christmas?”

“Yea, but I was in the mood to reread it. Is that okay?” You jokingly confronted him, leaning closer to him feign intimidation. Chris copied you and gently pushed you on the forehead, so your head moved back. “I never understood the fun about classics.”

“Because they’re amazing stories.”

“You can’t even understand them.”

“Only smart people can.”

“Oh, so are you saying I’m not smart?”

“I don’t see your degree,” you pointed at your framed degree hung proudly by the bookshelf.

“You mean the degree that’s next to my THREE shelves of awards?” Chris smiled cheekily as he pointed at the collection of statues glimmering in the soft light. “I don’t see your shelves there?” He laughed when you smacked him playfully with the book, leaning down to kiss you on the shoulder a couple of times. “We know you’re smarter than me.”

“Thank you.” You moved closer to him, so he stayed propped up near you, breathing steadily as you went back to the story. He kept his head by your shoulder, sighing deliberately, so a gush of breath tickled the loose hairs around your neck. After a few minutes, you instinctively crumpled your ear into your shoulder, whinging at him to stop.

“Sorry, sorry,” but his tone was edged with mirth. You tried to immerse yourself again, although this time Chris was starting to read lines out, intentionally dotting around the page, so your head began to swim.

“…Was she was wrong in this, she asked herself, reviewing her conduct for the past week or two…”

“Chris.”

“…she reflected, feeling rather sinister again, making Minta marry Paul…”

“Please stop.”

“….There was always a woman dying of cancer.” He frowned and shook his head. “This sounds so depressing.” You clapped a hand over his mouth, gritting your teeth as you smiled but muttering threats into his ear as he widened his eyes in phantom shock. “I swear you better shut up I’m trying to read.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Chris mumbled behind your hand.

“Are you going to stop?” You frowned. Chris nodded. Slowly, you pulled your hand away. Chris opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but with a quick “NO,” he closed it again. He halted for a moment, then spoke again.

“What is it about this book that makes you love it so much?”

“The writing is beautiful,” you sighed with content, “you don’t have to fully understand what E.M Forster’s saying because you FEEL what he’s saying through his words. He can perfectly describe a feeling which I’ve never been able to put into words. Like here,” you rapidly thumbed through the pages, stopping and jabbing at a line underlined in smudged pencil. “For that reason, knowing what was before them – love and ambition and being wretched alone on dreary places – she often had the feeling, why must they grow up and lose it all?” You shook the book in delight, expecting Chris to be just as excited. When he didn’t, your jaw slacked. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

‘If you think it’s wonderful, then it must be,’ Chris shrugged. He pointed at the multitude of lines underlined in silver, gently moving underneath your hands to peer at the next few pages. “Why do you underline so much?”

You bit the side of your cheek in an attempt to not sound embarrassed. “It depends. Sometimes it’s lines that are written really well or things that made me laugh; mostly it’s moments which make me love the book in particular. Like first kisses or when two people are reunited. Like here.’ Flipping the page, you read “‘this is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than love; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.’ Forster could’ve just said love is excellent, but this means so much more.”

“Uh, huh.” Chris was pretending to doze off on you, but when you retaliated by starting to shuffle away, he held you back. “Stop moving! you know I like how you pick up on those things.” He held his hand out as an invitation for the book, and when you handed it over, he flipped through the pages, reading the lines you’d memorised for so many years. “Is this how you feel? The way he writes?”

“Maybe not exactly. But I knew exactly what Forster meant by that last line because it made me think of you.” You enjoyed the way Chris’ face softened, the usually prominent bone structure hiding as his cheeks filled with a smile.

“Maybe I should read it sometime if it means this much to you,” he mused, nodding slowly. “Even if it is all about ladies dying with cancer.”

“Please do.” You half rolled over, your eyes drying out as you tried to look pleadingly at him. “I would die if you did that for me. I’ll read your favourite book if that persuades you.” You frowned. “I don’t even know what your favourite book is.”

“Easy,” Chris said “Ferdinand the Bull.”

“That’s a children’s book.”

“So?”

“Well, it’s not exactly emotionally challenging.”

“Hey, I cried at Ferdinand when I was a kid. Mom used to read it to us all the time. Didn’t you have Ferdinand in England?”

“Probably, but my parents didn’t read loads to me.”

“Aw man, you gotta read Ferdinand.” Chris swung out of bed, and half walked half skidded out of the room, Dodger tearing after him in excitement. You heard doors opening, lights being flicked on and bound books being dragged against wooden shelves, and then Chris came back down the corridor, turning to pick up the leg of Dodger’s stuffed lion and pulling both toy and dog back through the door. Dodger easily winning the tug of war sat underneath your vanity, chewing on his prize and Chris climbed back into bed, holding a battered picture book in triumph. It was obviously ancient. The red front cover had faded at the spine and at the edges due to sun exposure and a faint green stain which looked like paint coated the bottom. Chris still held it like it was a photo album and as he opened to the first page, he emitted a small gasp in wonder.

“Oh my God, I haven’t read this in so long! Look, there’s my name.” He pointed at a scribble in the corner of the page, barely eligible. You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that he could’ve written a swear word and you wouldn’t have been able to tell. “It’s exactly how I remembered it,” Chris spoke fondly, and he adjusted the lamp by his head, so it shone brighter on the pages. “I’ve got to read this to Stella next time I see her,” at the mention of his niece he softened even more, and his expression went slightly gooey.

“You can read it to me if you want,” you offered.

“You sure you don’t wanna keep reading your book?”

“Nah, I want to see what all the hype is about.” You gently closed A Room With A View and tapped on Chris’s arm, to which he lifted it up so you could lie between the pillow and his side. He shifted himself up so he could read and pushed your head to rest on his collarbone. “Can you see the pictures?” He spoke in a mocking baby voice but didn’t start until you’d stop shuffling and were comfy. Then he began to read, soft and slow at first but a couple of pages in he seemed to forget you were there. His voice started to rise and fall and get more expressive as he told the story of the bull who loved to smell flowers, and he laughed at the spindly drawings. You felt your eyes becoming droopy, and you shook your head to stay awake as he started to stroke your arm with the back of his hand, propping the book upon his knee so he could keep turning the pages.

“…And for all, I know he is sitting there still, under his favourite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.” Chris nodded once in satisfaction, and the story was over. Putting the book on the floor, Chris shifted you slightly to rest back into him, smiling. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you nodded, my head bobbling slightly as it bumped over his collarbone, “I especially loved your animated voice halfway through.”

“Stella insists on giving each person a different voice, even if none of them actually speak. Apparently, it helps her ‘become friends with them.’”

“That’s going to be fun when you start reading her Harry Potter.”

“Eh, it’s good to practise.”

“For what?”

“When I get to read it to my own kids.” He laughed at your widened eyes and lips which had now pouted out in surprised, “are you getting a little emotional thinking about me with children?”

“No,” you lied.

“Sorry, not my kids, OUR kids,” Chris’ eyes twinkled mischievously. You had to turn away then as a wave of motherly instinct you didn’t know was there filled your stomach, and your breath caught momentarily. “With their little curly hair and Boston accents.”

“I’m going to have to sleep after this.”

“And we can read to them loads and eat spaghetti with them…”

“you’re really mean, you know that,” you scowled, but you couldn’t help but see these children, running around in your mind in that teetering away all toddlers do on their chubby legs.

“You know what will be great too?”

“I swear if what you’re about to say is going to taunt me in my dreams-“

“Disney-world trips.”

“For God’s sake, Chris!”

“They’ll be so cute though!”

“Yeah well, now I’m going to dream about that.” You rolled over as if to try and sleep, but Chris rolled with you so now you were spooning, his knuckles continuing to stroke your skin in half soothing, half taunting way. “Our kids will be adorable,” you mumbled as you smiled into your pillow, “and they’ll love Ferdinand.”

“And I hope they see the world like you do,” Chris peppered a couple of kisses behind your ear and down your neck and then turned off the last light, so the room plunged into darkness. Dodger was finally settled and asleep, and there was a moment of creaking as Chris settled back into the spot he was lying in. For a moment, there were only the sounds of breathing, but you were now wide awake. You felt your mind whirring away, and you didn’t know if you wanted to punch the man next to you or kiss him.

“Okay so technically,” you spoke into the dark “we don’t want to have kids for a while.”

“Right.” Chris agreed.

“But there’s nothing wrong with practising.” You felt the arm around you tense suddenly, and his shadow popped up like an excited dog.

“No!” He cleared his throat. “No, there isn’t at all.”

“You said the Disney comment on purpose didn’t you?” You held a finger out as he leaned forward. Chris shrugged unapologetically and grabbed your arm to pull you on top of him, his chest already rising and falling quickly with anticipation.

“I might have done.”

“Ooo, maybe I should go sleep in the spare room then,” you teased and started to wriggle off him, but with a low laugh, Chris’ hand moved from your arm to the back of your legs.

“You’re not going anywhere,” his voice was gravelly as you became lost in each other.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x #chris evans imagine #Chris Evans #chris #evans #steve rodgers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #masterlist #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x ofc #fluff #rogers x reader #imagine

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seapandora · 4 years

Text

Commemoration｜ One-shot

Steve x female!Reader

A/N: This set out to be a fic losly based on the song Daddy Issues, but it just didn’t really fit in or work out so this is a different story than the one I had planned. However, it discusses heavy objects so if you are triggered by any of the warnisng please don’t feel like you have to read it, or if you decide to, please be careful. Enjoy! Please reblog and like if you liked this short one-shot. GIF-cred to owner.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death of parents (hints of suicide), mentions of war and death, sad, fluff, (please feel free to tell me if I missed any)

Summary: Y/N and Steve are so unlike each other. He´s a superhero, she´s the neighbourhood librarian. One thing they have in common is the loss of their fathers before either of them were born, maybe they can connect over that.

Words: 1904

~Keep reading~

The library was Steves´ newest favorite place. He had been reading up on history and also the big reads of the 1900s. Mostly he just borrowed the books and took them back home, but sometimes he would take his due time and sit in the library and read.

It wasn’t a huge library, just one floor with cramped sections of books. One of the best things had to be the little coffee machine that had been installed a few weeks ago. When it came in Steve had decided to spend more time in the library instead of at home.

The cute librarian made it easier to stay as well. She was silent, but always happy to help him to a new book or new genre. Her latest recommendation had been Lord Of The Rings, a series he had already read. However, he had humored her and reread it considering she talked about the books with so much passion and love.

Steve was the only one of the former avengers who had found the library, or at least he hoped so. It was his little corner of the world. This particular Monday morning had been hard. He had been reading some letters his father had sent to his mother during world war 1.

His father had died before his birth, and Steve was sad that he had never gotten to meet the man, and he kept wondering how different his life would be if he had. His mother had done well raising him on her own but he had often noticed how she would read the letters he had held this morning.

He kept his eye on the librarian the whole morning, which was crazy. He didn’t even know her name, but the way she rearranged her books and cleaned up the sections was a welcomed habit to watch. It was consistent. Steve felt comfort in it is the same movement every time he came to visit.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice the man who had been visiting her library in the past few months. No one could miss him. He towered over most people and could barely fit through the old door that leads into the little library. He also happened to be a famous super-soldier, one of two, so it was hard to miss him.

She hadn´t said much to him. The usual hello every time he came by, asking if he wanted coffee or help to pick a new book, but she had never actually introduced herself, and he hadn´t asked her about herself either.

Steve wasn’t usually a very observant person. Bucky would claim he was the most oblivious man he knew, but Steve wouldn’t take it that far. Especially not when it came to people he had come to care about. The librarian was one of them. She was looking quite down this Monday, and instead of her normally let down hair she had it in a messy bun and she was wearing headphones, which was very much out of character for her.

He frowned at her behavior and, against his better judgment, decided to walk up to her. He tapped her on the shoulder gently as to not scare her, which failed, resulting in Y/N jumping a bit and dropping the books she had in her arms. “I´m so sorry,” Steve quickly said and began to pick up the books.

Y/N had pulled off her headphones and looked fairly irritated with being scared, which Steve could understand. “I didn´t mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure you´re alright. I mean, you know I´ve been coming here for a few weeks, but I´ve never seen you with headphones, you usually hum for yourself” he explained and reached up rubbing the back of his neck.

She stared at him for a bit before she sighed and began to pick the books from his arm to place them where she wanted them. “That’s very observant, borderline creepy. But yeah no. Today is not really a good day. It´s an annual thing,” she explained and pushed some books in one of the shelves to make space for three of the smaller books Steve held.

Steve nodded understandingly and made sure he kept some space between the two. “Well, hey, if you need anyone to talk to, I… well I can volunteer,” he said and gave her a small smile. Having been friends with Sam for a while, he had learned a few things about supporting others.

Sam had the shield now and Steve had taken over Sams support groups. He could do more help there than with the team anyways. Y/N frowned but bit her lower lip. She used to go to regular therapy sessions but she hadn´t been in a while considering her library had taken up so much of her time.

“I… I´d like that. I´m closing down in half an hour to go get some lunch, there's a good salad bar just a block from here,” she explained and picked the last book from Steves´ arms to get it onto a shelf. He nodded as a reply and smiled, not having thought she would agree to talk to him.

Half an hour later Steve met up with Y/N outside the library which she locked up before she slowly began to walk towards the salad bar. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked beside the supersoldier. “I´m Y/N by the way,” she said with a small smile figuring they should at least be introduced before she spilled her story.

Steve smiled and introduced himself as well. Y/N smiled knowingly and nodded. “I know, being Brooklyn born and raised, you're the ultimate hero,” she said and laughed softly. After all, Steve was the reason for a lot of things in Y/N´s life, whether he knew it or not.

The salad bar was almost empty as they entered through the simple diner door and walked over to the disk. Y/N ordered her usual chicken Ceasar salad and waited for Steve to choose something as she got her wallet. “My treat,” she said and got them some utensils and napkins as well as a glass of water for herself.

Steve also grabbed a glass of water and followed Y/N over to a table where he sat down in silence. Although he had taken over Sams job he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to have a one-on-one type of session. Y/N sat down in front of him and looked at him for a while.

“Today is the 19th, this day 28 years ago my father was killed in Bosnia in the war,” she said softly and looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t born and it took a lot out of my mother. She… she never moved on and two years ago she...,” Y/N swallowed and took a deep but very shaky breath.

She didn’t have to say the words for Steve to understand. He reached over and took her hand. “Hey it´s okay, you´re here, you´re safe.” He said softly trying to make her feel like she was in a safe company and that she could talk freely. Y/N smiled at him, well the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

“I lost my father before I was born too and I lost my mother when I was 18. It´s very hard, and it doesn’t really get better, but we keep fighting. We keep fighting because the option is to stop everything.” He said softly and stroke the back of Y/N´s hand. She nodded and reached up with her free hand to wipe away some tears.

It had been long since she spoke so freely with, well with anyone. She had her library, she didn’t have friends or any other family. “My parents met in the library so once I learned it wasn’t doing too well I bought it. I´ve been filling it with my favorite stories ever since.” She said and sighed softly.

“It´s sort of my way to honor my parents,” she continued and tugged at the sleeves of her shirt. “You´ve done something extraordinary with that place Y/N. I don’t really like to leave my house much. People still consider me Captain America even if we have a better one now. But your library is just a piece of the world where I can be myself and where I don’t have to hide. I´ve also seen some families come in regularly and the kids light up every time.” He said and slowly released Y/N´s hand.

Y/N looked up at Steve and smiled softly. She could feel her face heat up quite a bit. “I have special deals with military families. Most people only get to check out two books at once but being able to escape from the world can be so important to kids who miss a parent and I instead allow them to check out as many books as they like. I also keep book circles for them. That way they can meet others in the same situation,” she said and leaned back as the owner of the salad bar came out with their salads.

Forty-five minutes later Steve and Y/N were back at the library. She sighed as realized she had a lot to do, she also had some paperwork to file and sign off on. Three or more deliveries were arriving in the coming week and she was behind on her chores in the little library.

“Do you work all alone here?” Steve asked as he looked around. It wasn’t big at all, just a few sections, mostly kids' books and fantasy books with a small seating area. The reception was pushed as far into a corner as one could possibly imagine and it was overfilled with paperwork and books that needed to be tagged or taken out into the library and placed on shelves.

Y/N shrugged. “yes, but it isn´t very big. It’s the area you see here and a ten square-foot room in the back with empty boxes and such, mostly storage and dust. It looks a bit like a mess now, but I´m so behind on making all the payments and stuff and around this time of the year I can only do so much,” she sighed and shook her head at her own behavior. Normally she was a very clean and organized person.

Steve looked around once more as he thought for a few seconds. “Would you be cool with me helping out a bit? I only do the VA-meetings twice a week and I have a lot of free time on my hands, plus I really like being here,” he said and looked over to Y/N with a smile. “I´d love the help, but I´m not sure I´d be able to pay you. It isn't exactly a lucrative business, running a library.” She frowned and pulled a face.

He shook his head. “I volunteer, please, it would be a pleasure to help you out here,” he said and walked over to her. “Plus then I wouldn’t feel so bad about drinking so much of the coffee either,” he added with a smirk.

Y/N smiled and nodded. Maybe this was the universe telling her to get some help and not having to go through her emotions alone. After all, she had met Steve where her mom met her one true love. Fate doesn’t always show itself that clearly.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fluffy fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #Avengers #seapandoraswritings

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its-me-jessi · 4 years

Text

Back To The History PT6

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/Ns disappearance leads to a heated discussion between Hvitserk and Ivar while Y/N can’t get her mind off Hvitserk.

A/N: Thank you very much for leaving such nice feedback and again, I’m sorry for taking so long. My studies keep me very busy lately.🙈 I hope you’ll enjoy the 6th part of this series as well.🤗 As always, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog.😊

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

On the way back to Haralds kingdom nearly no one spoke a word. Everyone felt frustrated and sad. They were defeated and many of their warriors died for nothing. When they arrive back in their kingdom, they wouldn’t have good news to bring. Hvitserk felt frustrated just as they did but he was also glad to come back earlier than expected. For the first time in his life there was someone who longingly waited for his return and knowing this gave him the feeling of being truly loved and it felt great. He was smiling to himself every time he imagined meeting her again. When it came to her it didn’t really matter to him that they had just lost the fight. He could have never imagined there would be someone who’s more important to him than anything else until he met Y/N and instantly fell in love with her. Love was it what brought him happiness even when he was supposed to feel bad like everyone else around him felt like. On their way back he didn’t think about the lost fight all he could think about was the confession he had to make. He just had to confess to her how he truly felt about her, and it would be the first thing he would do after arriving back in Haralds kingdom, at the place he had last seen her.

As they arrived, he nearly jumped out of the ship. The ship wasn’t tied up yet as he already ran along the harbor towards the chamber, he’d shared with her hoping he would find her there but to his chagrin she wasn’t there. Hoping he would find her exploring the kingdom he went looking for her. Time passed and he still didn’t find her or anyone who could tell him where she was. The people he asked even emphasized they haven’t seen her for a few days. “I’ve not seen her since you left.”, an elderly woman told him.

“She promised me she wouldn’t leave.”, he thought wondering where else she possibly was. “She didn’t go back, did she?”, he was holding on to his hope Y/N was still there and didn’t go back to the future. He wasn’t ready to give up on her especially not without confessing his feelings to her.

“Where is she? Where is Y/N?”, Hvitserk stormed into the main hall where Harald and Ivar were sitting on a wooden bench talking to each other.

Ivar and Harald looked at each other before turning their attention back to Hvitserk. “She’s not here anymore. – I was told she disappeared over night.”, Harald told him signalizing him to sit down with them.

Hvitserk sat down with them and was deeply lost in his thoughts as Ivar leant forward and spoke up: „I’ve tolerated enough now. - I think it’s time for you, brother, to break your silence and tell us everything you know!”. Ivar observed Hvitserk and he looked anything but pleased. Harald on the other side leaned back and listened curiously to whatever Hvitserk was about to say.

“What do you mean Ivar! I’ve already told you; I don’t know more than you do!”, Hvitserk looked from Ivar to Harald and back to Ivar not sure where this conversation would lead to. As if he told them a crazy joke, Ivar started laughing out loud. That’s when Hvitserk knew Ivar had lost his temper and wouldn’t be patient any longer.

“Do you take me for an idiot? You should know I might be a cripple but I’m far from being an idiot. – You two have been together for a while now and you seriously want me to believe you don’t know anything about where she’s from or what she’s even doing here?!”, Ivar raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I overheard your little conversation about her family back on our way here. Seems to me that you know exactly where she belongs to.”

Hvitserk looked at Ivar provocatively as he answered: “Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you, Ivar! Whatever you have in mind, it would mean no good for her or her people! I don’t think I have to remind you, you destroyed even our family!”. He provoked Ivar so far that he angrily grabbed Hvitserk by his collar.

“Lagertha is the one who destroyed our family by killing our mother and Ubbe betrayed us, but that’s not the point here. – You will tell me everything you know, or I consider you as a traitor as well.”, Ivar threatened him.

“Fine.”, Hvitserk gave up thinking Ivar wouldn’t find a way to the future anyway. Hoping Y/N would be safe wherever she was now Hvitserk opened up: “She told me she’s from the future. It wasn’t planned; it was a coincidence she came here.”. He told Ivar and Harald nearly everything she’d told him about the future. “That’s all I know!”, he pushed Ivars hands off of him.

“The future, huh?”, Ivar laughed not believing what his brother just told him. That was by far not the answer he’d expected.

“If you don’t believe me, Ivar, then it’s not my problem. I don’t have anything more to tell you except that you should leave Y/N alone!”, Hvitserk glared at Ivar before standing up. He was on his way out of the room to continue looking for Y/N even if the chance to actually find her was smaller than finding a needle in the haystack.

“So, Y/N went back to her time zone?”, Ivar asked already thinking about the benefit the new information’s will bring even if he still didn’t entirely believe Hvitserks words.

Y/N POV

It’s been a long time since I’ve last seen my home. It felt great but also kind of strange to be back. After a long time, I had a talk with my family and friends, and I were surrounded by people, places and things I knew like the back of my hand but there was still something missing. Everything I’ve missed back there in history I got back but now there was one thing or better one person out of history I missed instead. Hvitserk. Every single day I spent so much time with him and suddenly he wasn’t with me anymore and there was no chance to get close to him again. He was so far away from me that even by phone I couldn’t possibly reach him. I could’ve reached him through time travel, but I considered that as impossible to do again and I had no choice but to put up with it.

The fact that Hvitserk wasn’t part of this time zone didn’t mean he wasn’t a part of me and my thoughts. There wasn’t one single day I didn’t think about him and wondered how life’s going for him. I thought about the battle he went to and I worried about him. The worst part was not knowing if he’s still alive but there was a way to obtain clarity.

In history you would never get your hands on any clear information’s about the future but on the contrary the future grants us access to all kind of information’s about even very distant times. I just had to go to the nearest library and search for a book about the viking history. Books about the middle ages were quickly found but specific books about Vikings weren’t easy to find. It took me a while until I finally stumbled upon one quite old looking book which included information’s I needed.

I took a seat and browsed through the book concentrating on every passage that mentioned even a little bit about Hvitserk. I read about the lost battle and the return of the defeated warriors who had survived and as I came across that one name, I was instantly relieved. He had survived and safely returned to Haralds kingdom accompanied by his brother Ivar and king Harald. Thank god he’s fine. Curious about what the future holds for him I kept reading but to my surprise I couldn’t find any more information’s about him. Following Pages were filled with many stories about his brothers, but he was nowhere found not even between the lines almost as if his story got erased. Wondering about possible reasons why he’s been left unmentioned, I decided to borrow the book and take it home with me to restudy it assuming I might have missed something.

Back at home I instantly pulled the old book out of my bag and began to reread the passages I’ve already read but still there wasn’t any trace of Hvitserk. What happened to him? Lost in thoughts I continued flipping through the book as one of the rarely to be found black and white pictures caught my attention. The picture clearly showed the church I’d seen in York, spotlighted by the light of the bright full moon.

The picture had fully caught my eye and I couldn’t stop starring at it. Something about that picture felt incredible real. It was almost like I was blinded by that bright moonlight myself and strangely I felt cold air fluoting around me and made me shudder. Finally, I could take my eyes off of that picture and I closed that book. That’s enough research for today.

I looked up and suddenly I wasn’t in my comfy home anymore...

Tagged: @alexa4040 @lordsexmachine @buckysjuicyplums

#vikings #vikings tv show #vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk reader #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk imagine #fanfiction #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk vikings x reader #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar reader

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cooltrainererika · 4 years

Text

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

Couldn’t come up with a better title.

This is for Alternate Universe/AU, or Angst, it can qualify for both.

Okay… so… holy hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Key To Zorn

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 wet poking his hand.

There was something in front of him.

A dog.

A medium-large dog 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 dog nudged him again with its nose, looking up at him with its soulful eyes.

“...A dog?”

The dog 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 dog, 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 dog, 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 dog, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The dog 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 dog’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 dog’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.”

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

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 dog. 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!”

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.”

“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 dog merely yawned, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all dogs 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.

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?”

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 dog 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.

“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 dog would.

“...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.

“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.”

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

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

“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...”

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?!”

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

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

And there Lutz was, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened.

“How… how…”

<I’m a Very Amazing Dog, 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 dog, 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?”

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.”

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

“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 dog 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 dog 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-“

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

“Ludwig!”

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

“...Wasn’t chocolate poisonous to dogs?”

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.”

“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?”

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

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

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

——————

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.

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 dog.>

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 dog 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-”

“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?”

Ludwig looked to Lutz in shock.

“How…”

“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...”

"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?”

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 Dog’ 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…”

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 dog 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…”

In the dog’s jaws was a doll; an eerily faceless, unusual, porcelain-ish doll of indeterminable gender.

<Here. I brought a present.>

“What is…”

“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 dog 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.

“What?! How do you…”

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 dog, 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?!

#Mirror Week 2019 #aphmirrorweek2019 #Day 3 Alternate Universe #Germany pair #evillious chronicles #aph #hws #hws Germany #bringbackhetalia2k19 #Key to Zorn series #Evillious Chronicles x Alt-talia series #alt-talia #hetalia

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patsdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Duet

Title: Duet Fandom: Dhani Harrison; Jakob Dylan Pairing: Dhani Harrison/Jakob Dylan Rating: Gen Word Count: 2054 Summary: “Anyway, you remember his cover of Must Be Santa?” “Oh my god.” In which Dhani is invited to do a Rolling Stone interview with a mystery person, allegedly an old friend he hasn't seen in a long time. And he is certain he won't get any sleep until he finds out just who that person is... A/N: A dear friend of mine wrote a gem of a Dylarrison Jr. fic called “They’ve Trapped Us Boys” which made me low-key start to ship this ship. They I had the idea for this fic and let’s just say, I ended up giving myself a whole lot of feels. ❤ Thank you @szappan and @savoy-brown-shoe for the kind support of this rarepair fic and lots of thanks to my amazing beta, @smittyjaws <3333 Anyway, this is 100% fluff, so please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and @ill-be-your-tennessee-lamb‘s fic are in the reblogs!)

It all began, as these things have a tendency to, with a harmless enough enquiry.

Dhani had received an invitation to do an interview with the Rolling Stone magazine sometime late in November. Now, that was nothing unusual in his books. He had done his fair share of interviews over the years, in part due to being his father’s son, in part due to long being a musician of his own right. Now, this invitation, though? It caught his attention far more than any usual invitation to an interview would have done. Because it required some navigation, some shuffling dates around in his calendar – and someone else’s. Just that Dhani didn’t know who that mysterious other person was, that was supposed to be interviewed together with him.

Dhani reread the letter a good couple dozen times.

It said that he was to be interviewed together with someone he already knew. Well, he thought. I do know quite a lot of people…

Furthermore, it was someone also from the music field. Kinda obvious. He scratched his head. Still doesn’t limit the amount of people it could be.

The letter also hinted that it was someone he had known for a long time - long was relative, wasn’t it? – and someone he likely hadn’t seen in a long time either, given what was known to the magazine and the public. It was supposed to be a fun sort of reunion.

That last part was what Dhani couldn’t get off his mind. Sure, he was thrilled and excited that they were – hopefully – trying to do something nice for him, but... Just whom was he to be reunited with?

He knew that it was supposed to be a surprise. He knew better than to get impatient about this matter. And yet.

So, a few days after the date for the interview was finally settled on, he found himself unable to sleep and opened his messenger app.

And created a group chat with all the people he could think of that the Rolling Stone might want him to meet.

Dhani: Hi :) Any of you doing a Rolling Stone interview with a mysterious other person sometime mid-December?

Kris: Wtf mate it’s like 2am

Dhani: 2am where you are, perhaps

Kris: That’s fair

Dhani yawned into his hand and replied immediately after Kris’s response.

Dhani: 4am where I am

James: Not the one you’re looking for, btw. Sorry, pal

Dan: Nope

James: Want me to make enquiries?

Dhani: Nah, they probably won’t like that. Thanks tho

Dhani: Seriously, though. None of you guys were invited to do a RS interview mid-December? With me?

Jakob: Go to sleep, Dhanster

Dhani: Don’t tell me what to do, Dylan

Rufus: lol

Lily: Seriously, could you guys be any more married? :’D

Jakob: You know that’s not possible

Dhani: GUYS. Did y’all just evade my question??

Jakob: You should stop fretting abt this Dhani, it’s gonna be fine

Dhani: *eye-rolling emoji*

Jakob: Srsly, go to sleep Dhani, it’s late af

Lily: Yeah, we should all head to bed now. Sleep well, kiddos

Rufus: night, my American friends

Kris: Nite

Dhani sighed and put his phone away. His friends seemingly weren’t involved in all of this. He should probably try to get some sleep instead.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled the covers up to his chest and squinted. There was still light coming from the other side of the bed. Dhani rolled onto his side and stretched so that he could reach farther across the body that was blocking his movement. Then, he swatted lightly at the phone emanating the light in question.

“Cat.”

“Hmpf.” Dhani pouted, but he only got a grin in reply.

“Who are you to judge?”

“Goddammit.”

But it was only a few seconds later that the light on the other side of the bed was turned off and Dhani found himself wrapped into a warm, tight embrace. He fell asleep within minutes, the mystery interview completely banished from his mind.

The day of the interview came sooner than anticipated. The usual whirl that seemed to catch everyone before the holidays didn’t spare Dhani either, and before he could say “oh, I should have fuckin’ known it”, he found himself seated in a nice room at the Rolling Stones’ headquarters, right next to none other than Jakob Dylan.

Very much embarrassed at how he had allowed Jakob to fool him, he just buried his head in his hands and groaned theatrically. Jakob only looked at him and snorted.

“I never told you I wasn’t the mystery person!”

“You told me you wouldn’t be doing any more interviews this year??”

Jakob scratched his chin. “Okay, that’s fair. But I said that before I was asked to do this with you.” He grinned and didn’t falter even a tiny bit under Dhani’s dark gaze. He shrugged: “It’s not my fault, is it? And I have a feeling that this is gonna be fun, Dhanster.”

“Oh my god, please don’t call me that in public,” Dhani just breathed out in a hushed voice. “Seriously, Jake.”

Jakob nodded. “Alright. But in turn, you’re gonna try to relax now, okay?”

This was the moment that their interviewer chose to appear. He greeted them cheerfully and explained that Tony, who had done some interviews with each of them respectively over the years, wasn’t doing this interview because the whole editorial team had sent him on a much needed vacation.

“Guy doesn’t know when to take a break. He hadn’t taken a day off in three years,” Ryan explained to them. He sat down opposite of them and quickly looked through his note cards. When he looked back up, the cards in one hand, his phone ready to record in the other, he seemed to notice something that made him halt, however. Two shiny rings. He grinned.

“Huh, didn’t know you guys had gotten hitched.”

Dhani’s breath caught in his throat. Jakob noticed and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Would you wanna talk more about your significant others today, or-“

“Maybe later.” Jakob gave him a smile and they began the interview, Ryan all too eager to hear whether the two of them were appropriately thrilled to have met again and be able to do this interview together. Dhani actually found himself relaxing after a while and had to suppress a laugh several times. Judging by the twinkle in Jakob’s eyes, he felt the same way about the interviewer’s excitement.

Sooner than anticipated, the interview was over and Ryan invited them to play a song together. This, too, had been hinted at in the enquiry letter they both had received last month, but Dhani hadn’t prioritized it as much as finding out who his interview partner was going to be. Now he wished he had.

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is always a favorite around this time of year?” Ryan suggested with a smirk. Dhani couldn’t suppress a snort and heard Jakob laughing next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jakob giving him a nod and turned around. Their hands brushed when he did and Jakob’s smile widened.

“You know that Christmas album my dad recorded?”

“How couldn’t I? You didn’t stop mentioning it that holiday season.”

“True.” Jakob grinned at the memory. And the holidays that year spent with his dad.

“Anyway, you remember his cover of Must Be Santa?”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes.”

Dhani gave him a searching glance, then gave in. He waved his hand at Jakob. “Gimme your phone, I need to listen to the song again to at least make an attempt to get it right.”

Jakob obeyed – all too happily, if he was being honest – and turned toward Ryan. “Can we get a couple of additional studio musicians to do this in, say, an hour?”

Ryan beamed like Jakob had just hung the moon. “Sure!” And, after showing them to one of the studios, off he was.

After Dhani was done listening to the song a couple of times, they started practicing with the studio guitars they had been provided with. It was fast-played chords and almost shouting the lyrics breathlessly into each other’s face as fast as they could from there on.

“This is insane,” Dhani said when they took a breather, but he was grinning, enjoying the silliness more than words could express.

“You know what kind of life you agreed to when-“

The door burst open and in came Ryan, a studio band they didn’t know, as well as two cameramen with their equipment.

It was a blast. That was the only way to put it. They made it through the song on their third or fourth take, but the second the cameras were off, Dhani collapsed into a fit of giggles and had to cling onto Jakob to steady himself.

“That was fun.”

His face was red and Jakob looked at him like he wanted to kiss him right then and there. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Dhani and pulled him up against his side. Dhani shuddered, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“I should have hoped so.”

They thanked the studio band for the job well done as well as the fun that they had had, shook everyone’s hands and left to say goodbye to Ryan.

Jakob’s hand had long left Dhani’s shoulder and, after a tentative brush or two against his knuckles, was now firmly clasped in Dhani’s hand. They were smiling and their faces were still slightly red from singing the fast holiday song several times in a row when they left the room together.

It was their giddy and relaxed selves that ran into Ryan in the hallway. While they thanked him for the fun interview and jamming session, Ryan’s gaze wandered down to their joined hands and he smiled. Ah. He wouldn’t need to take Jakob up on his earlier offer to elaborate. He felt that he had gotten the right idea and wouldn’t ask – nor tell.

“You guys have a good evening, yeah?” He smiled at them and shook their respective free hand.

“Thanks, mate, you too,” Dhani smiled and looked at Jakob with a fond gaze. He gave a gentle tug on the other man’s hand and, after another smile and nod at Ryan, off they were.

Once they had put on their coats and were out of the building’s front door, he turned his head toward Jakob, only to find the other man already looking at him with a gentle smile on his lips.

“That was... a lot of fun, actually.”

Jakob grinned, just a tiny bit smugly. “You did choose your spouse wisely, after all.”

Dhani just gave him an amused look out of the corner of his eye. “You didn’t choose too badly, either, I’d say.”

It took them only two seconds before they were laughing once again. And just like that, despite the freezing evening temperature, Dhani was feeling all giddy and warm again. To think he had stressed so much about finding out who his interview partner would be until earlier today...

“C’mon.” A gentle tug on Dhani’s hand. “I think dad wouldn’t mind us dropping by. Wanna go?” Jakob grinned as Dhani just buried his face in the crook of his neck. And didn’t move away.

“Huh. Dhanster?” Jakob asked and lightly poked Dhani’s back with his gloved hand.

“Don’t wanna move right now. You’re comfy.” His words were barely audible, as his face was hidden in the fake fur of Jakob’s winter coat. His cold nose was pressed against Jakob’s throat though, and Jakob tried to shift away from it – but to no avail.

“Alright, then. Then I’ll carry you.”

“Nooo.”

“Don’t tell me you still have your so-called polka dot PTSD,” Jakob half-teased.

Dhani only groaned and Jakob laughed.

“We’ve been married for how many years now?”

Dhani finally pulled back from Jakob’s neck and made a face as though he was pondering the question seriously.

“Not long enough for me to get over the polka dots. Never long enough.”

Jakob snorted and shook his head. Taking hold of Dhani’s hand again, he squeezed it in encouragement.

“So- you coming?”

Dhani gave a plaintive sigh for the sake of drama (mostly) but smiled back at Jakob and, squeezing Jakob’s hand back, nodded.

“Always.”

18 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 5 years

Text

HICCUPS! : MLP Fan Fiction : A Grumpy Goat >tail<

Return to the Master Story Index

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HICCUPS!

A Grumpy Goat >tail<

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

16440 words

Writing begun 11/30/18

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Characters:

Grumpy Goat and usual cast

Thomas/and/or/Dashie Writer – remote controlled T82

Wind, the Mama Cat

Victor Mordenheim - Mad Doctor

Krystal Dragoness “KD” Wingless dragon - artist

Fume Hood Unicorn, a bit small-Forensic Chemist

Jinni and Sassy vampire and succubus

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It was being a quiet day out on the ledge in front of my cave. We were sitting on a bench, out in the sun, rereading Daring Do and the Secret of the Appleoosa Cave. The stout iron sheeting that blocked the entrance to my cave was warm behind us.

The lovely Coalsmoke, a pony of perfect glossy black except for her cutie mark, was leaning over where my shoulder would be, if I still had a body, or for that matter was even technically alive. She was admiring one of the illustrations in the book.

“I especially like these illustrations signed KD, Grumpy. They capture the mood and action really well.”

Sitting on my other side was the finely polished skeleton of an alicorn. He was the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, the being responsible for my present condition and now one of my few true friends.

He agreed, “Look at how well the artist has made the cave entrance look menacing. Whoever did this is very good.”

We were distracted from our pleasant reading by a flare of flame down on the trail leading up to my cave. Looking down the way, I was more or less expecting it to be the torches of another anti goat mob or, more specifically anti Grumpy Goat mob.

Due to my business, I am less than popular with some ponies. I have a thriving practice in Non Equine Magic. Mostly, it does not appear to do anything. Somehow, the desired, contracted for and paid in advance results just seem to happen by perfectly natural, if often bizarre means. Most of the time, those results are the advantage over, injury, death or ruin of some pony, paid for as mentioned, IN ADVANCE, by some other pony.

This time, it was not a mob. There was a wingless blue dragon toiling up the stony path to my cave. The next time that she flared, we could hear it. It sounded like she was suffering from a case of hiccups! Possibly not the best ailment for a dragon to have, since she was burping a smallish fire blast with each hiccup!

When she gained the ledge, she considerately turned her head out away from us. Good thing, too! She had two hiccups in quick succession!

She offered, “My name is Krystal Dragoness, KD for short. I've come to you about these hiccups. They are like to ruin me. I am at my wit's end. See, I am an artist. I draw and paint. I get going on a piece and these hiccups start up! One of them is sure to hit my work, and, well, paper, paints, canvas and frames are all pretty flammable! I've even burned up brushes!

“Can you help me to end these hiccups?”

I nodded, making my skull, apparently floating on nothing, with its everburning candle between the horns, glowing snake like eyes and fangs bob. “I could do that, yes. It would not cure the basic problem, though. Hiccups usually have a natural cause from tummy and lungs not coordinating right. If I fix this case, it could easily happen again.

“Let's dig into how this started and whether there is some underlaying cause that we can fix.”

Somewhat disappointed, Krystal nodded. “That makes sense. My first case of the hiccups like this happened at my one dragon show in the Sunrise Gallery in Manehatten. You know how those things are, lots of nobs that you need to chat with and lots of small snacks and drinks. The show itself was a pretty important one.

“I landed a contract to illustrate the next Daring Do book. There was some serious competition for that contract, let me tell you. It nearly went to Drawin Pitcher. She wasn't too happy about me getting to do the art for another Daring Do book. This one will be my fourth.

“I had only just signed the contract when the hiccups started. The first one nearly incinerated my new contract! I was able to get out of the gallery safely when they began. I was lucky that I didn't hurt anypony or any of my art.”

She absently pulled a sparkly topped muffin out of a bag and began munching it. Looking up, a bit embarrassed, she pointed out, “I really can't share dragon muffins with you. They are topped with crushed gems and have gold or silver dust in the muffin part. I'm afraid that they are pretty toxic to non dragons.”

Coalsmoke asked curiously, “Where did you get them? No place in Ponyville makes them at all. Sometimes the kitchen in Princess Twilight's castle makes up some for Spike but they never sell them.”

Krystal knit her brows in puzzlement. “I get them out of this bag. I always like have them when I am a little tense, like when I am concentrating on my art. Nibbling helps me to focus.”

Just then, she let out another small belch of fire.

Whistling softly, I thought carefully about what I had heard. “Tell me, Krystal, at the art show, did you have muffins like these?”

“Well, yes. Any well equipped bakery can make them. They just have to clean up carefully afterwards. They always serve them if I am going to be showing any of my works.”

I nodded and looked over at the lovely Coalsmoke, who is always a treat for the ol' eyeballs and asked, “And where have you bought them since that art show in Manehatten?”

She paused, thinking. “I haven't had to. This bag always has some in it.”

The eyes that I don't really have widened just a bit. “It always has some of those muffins in it for you? When did you get that bag?”

She scratched behind the spines along the back of her jaw as she sorted it out. “I first noticed it just after I left the gallery at the show where I got those first hiccups. It's always there when I am tense.”

I glamored my invisible spirit body to look like the handsome tan, black and brown goat that I was before the tiny mistake that killed me and destroyed my original body. Holding out a hoof, I said, “Just give me the bag, please. I am going to try something simple with it.”

Nodding affably, Krystal handed me the bag. I took it inside my cave and shut the iron door. That door and my cave front were designed by a good firm of military engineers to withstand an Equestrian standard military battering ram.

It only takes one anti-goat mob burning your house, your library, years of study, hopes for a degree and dreams of well paying work to make one take a few simple precautions. Add the mob trying to stone your burned and battered body to death to drive home the lesson in how how to hate most ponies. That trivial incident also motivated my simple and sensible precautions against a repeat of the problem. Like living in a cave. With a military fortress grade steel and iron entrance.

I turned about from sealing the door and asked Krystal if she was still feeling tense. Digging into the bag for a muffin, she replied, “Yes, a little. Why?”

The Litch King pointed with a foreleg of bone. “That is why. He just shut that bag inside his cave and it looks like you have it back.”

He turned his skeletal head to me and stated, “Grumpy, if you can, we NEED to help KD. Her illustrations really make a Daring Do book! Plus, we know now that a new one is in the works! We can't let anything interfere with THAT!”

I shrugged and opened the door. I was not even surprised that the bag was not there inside my cave any longer. Krystal munched her muffin and shortly hiccuped another tongue of flame.

I pointed out, “That bag was behind six centimeters of forged iron. In spite of that, it homed in on you without seeming effort. Moments after you nibbled that muffin, you hiccuped another flame. I suspect that there is a direct connection. To be sure, we need to go back down into Ponyville. I know someone in the forensic chemistry lab at the police department. In the meantime, try not to nibble another muffin and let us see if that helps to control or stop the problem.”

On the trail back down to Ponyville, Coalsmoke and I tried to simply hold the bag instead of letting Krystal carry it. This wise measure proved impossible. The bag kept sneakily returning to her claws. After what happened up on the ledge in front of my cave, that was pretty much what was expected.

I have to admit that I was pleased by the simple fact that Krystal did keep her claws out of the bag. We got down the trail and into Ponyville without incident as a result.

Instead of my usual turning towards the town hall and the Hall of Records, to record a new contract, I trotted right on, with a right turn, headed towards the Ponyville Waste Treatment Plant and Falmire Marsh, which is fenced and actually the final stage of the waste water treatment, before it goes into the river.

Coalsmoke was most interested in why we were going where we were going. Soon enough, we came to a modest stone building close by to the treatment plant. The sign said,

Ponyville Police Department

Forensics Laboratory

Chemistry, Physical Evidence Analysis,

Forensic Autopsy

As I pushed open the front door, I explained, “I know most of the staff here. Sometimes they will consult with me, when a case is being a pain.”

Coalsmoke chuckled, “How often is one of their nasty cases the result of one of your contracts, Grumpy?”

A smallish unicorn looked up from where he was working at a desk, apparently compiling a report. “Not really all that often, Miss Coalsmoke. Even when it is, there is no actual evidence that can link the contract to the results. Grumpy is often a big help in sorting out how something that we are investigating happened. We pay him a proper consultation fee, of course.”

I introduced, “Coalsmoke, KD, I would like you to meet Fume Hood, one of the best forensic chemists in the whole kingdom. We are lucky to have him here in Ponyville.”

KD offered, “You have some unusual friends, Grumpy.”

I chortled, “If they aren't unusual in some way, the aren't worth having as friends.”

Turning my attention to Fume Hood, I explained what our situation was in a few words and ended with, “Think that you could do us a rough analysis of one of KD's dragon muffins?”

He thought for a moment, tapping quietly on his desk top before nodding, “You say that the flame is mostly pale blue? Nearly transparent but pretty hot?”

KD shook her head in agreement. “Right. That is, unless I eat something with salt in it. Then the flame is yellow. Is that significant?”

Fume Hood said, “It MAY be. I would like to see both your normal flame and one from your hiccups. Please step over there. Dragon flame can be pretty handy for some chemistry tests, so we have a small indoor flame range.”

KD stepped over to the flame range's head rest. Fume Hood lowered the room lights and suggested, “Whenever you are ready, Miss KD. Just give us a small shot of your regular flame.”

KD's fire blast was impressively different from a hiccup flame. It was a bright yellow with some red to the center and flame tips that went to a bluish hue.

Fume Hood almost danced pleasure at seeing it! Perfect! Normal dragon fire. Now, let's see what we get with one of those muffins. Go ahead and take one from the bag and eat it.”

He was watching the bag very closely as KD extracted the muffin. “Fascinating. There is only one muffin in the bag until you take it out. Then a new muffin forms almost immediately afterwards.”

KD contentedly munched her muffin. Within moments, she stuck her head into the flame range headrest and belched a nearly pure, pale blue flame.

Fume Hood smiled in chemistly joy. “Timing and color nail it! You were right, Grumpy. There is a direct connection between the muffins and KD's hiccups of flame. The only reason that she flames at all with them is that, being a dragon, she has a natural ignition spark every time she exhales or belches. Whatever this vapor she is belching is, it is highly flammable.”

KD's shoulders slumped. “Does that mean that I can't have Dragon Muffins anymore?”

Fume Hood chuckled as he replied, “I suspect that you can have all that you want. Just not these, from this bag.”

He went to pull one out. Looking perplexed, he tried again. “Humm . . . I can't seem get that muffin out of the bag. KD, will you get it please? I need to analyze it.”

Without any problem, KD extracted the muffin. Fume Hood took it and sliced it in half. One half he put into a beaker with a lye solution. It began to dissolve at once. Soon there was only some slightly coarse granules mixed with loose sparkly fragments of gemstones in the bottom of the beaker.

Fume Hood filtered out the solid residue and rinsed it with water. Stirring it with a glass rod, he explained, “The lye took away everything but the gems in the topping and the metal dusts in the body of the muffin. Now, lets see what happens next . . .”

He dripped some acid onto the residue. “Gems, gold, and silver won't dissolve in this mild acid.”

In spite of that, something was happening! It bubbled and fumed something fierce! Happily touching it off with a sparking wand used to light his lab burners, Fume Hood pointed dramatically!

“There! You see? Pale blue flame! See the white residue? Zinc oxide. Your muffins are adulterated with zinc! It reacts with your stomach acids to make hydrogen and that is what, along with a bit of moisture and such that it picks up as you burp is what makes your so called hiccups! Just don't eat any muffins from that bag and you should be fine.”

He turned to me and snickered, “OK, Grumpy. We are even now.”

I turned to the perplexed KD and Coalsmoke. “They needed an autopsy done last year. The cadaver was over a week old, in August. I glamored up a form with no sense of smell and did it for them. Death was from blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Clubbed, to be crude about it.”

KD brightened up and commented, “If they get that sort of thing to deal with, it is no wonder that this place is beside the waste treatment plant!”

I agreed, “Right! Now all that we need to do is sort out how you got a bag that can do what this one does.”

KD put a finger to her cheek as she thought. “I do know where I got it. It was at that Manehatten art show that I told you about. The Dragon Treats that they serve at those things are always kept separate from the pony treats by putting them in bags. Somepony gave me this bag with a muffin in it, just before I signed that Daring Do contract.”

Fume Hood tapped me on my nonexistent shoulder and pointed to the bottom of the bag. There was a small trade mark in the form of a silhouette. There was a small bit of advertising too.

KD read, “Redline Party Supplies – For a party to remember for the rest of your life – If you survive!” She also pointed out, “That silhouette looks like a laughing wolf's head.”

Fume Hood agreed, “It does look like that, doesn't it? I know of someone who uses a silhouette like that on their business cards. Here.” He hoofed over a card.

The card read:

Doctor Mordenheim,

General Surgery and Prosthesis.

Everfree Edge Clinic

Practice inspected and approved by Princess Luna

I was delighted! “I know where that is! It was a small old castle that was supposedly built by a -” I made my voice low and shivery while making Hoof Quotes, “- 'Mad Doctor' long before Ponyville was established. It was in ruins when the Apples came and founded the town.”

Coalsmoke smiled and said, “Right, Grumpy. I know where it is too. I send my workers there for general health workups and surgery when it is needed. Doctor Mordenheim really is very good. It is not far from here, either. Let's go see if he can shed any light on this business.”

We left, taking the Falmire Causeway that crossed the marsh, going out towards the southeast side of the Everfree forest. We paused by a street vendor's cart to watch the antics of her trained alligator.

Have to admit that Pinkie has done a great job of training Gummy! I mean, he is two and a half meters of fun! Rumor has it that she has broken him to saddle, but she was not offering rides today.

“Gator Chow, gator chow! / The gators below are hungry now! / Feed the gators down below / It is really quite a show!”

A chuckling Coalsmoke hoofed over coins and got a big bag filled with large chunks. It said “Certified Gator Chow” on the label. She shared the chunks around and we spent a few happy minutes tossing them to the many alligators gathered hopefully under the bridge.

There were splashes and chomping a-plenty as the gators lunged about for each new chunk of the chow. We heard a munching from behind us.

KD, swallowing, asked Pinkie, “Where can I get some more of this stuff? It is pretty good!”

At our stares, she retorted, “What? Dragon here, remember? I don't eat grass!”

We left Pinkie to her vending and went on across. It was not long before we saw the sign pointing to the forest beyond. It said, Everfree Edge Clinic, General Medicine and Prosthetics.

Only a little way up the designated path of yellow cobbles, we came to a small but well restored castle. I had to give this Doctor Mordenheim credit for showmanship. This was one classy clinic. The sign over an open door read Welcome to Everfree Edge Clinic.

Coalsmoke rang a bell labeled Ring for Service that sat on a beautiful mahogany desk in the lobby/waiting room.

We did not even get to try out the assorted seating and laying cushions. A large, near horse sized zebra with an eye patch came out of the back. His professional smile turned to a genuine one as he laid eye on Coalsmoke.

“My dear Coalsmoke! What may I do for you, or is it for one of your friends?”

Suddenly stopping like he'd hit one of his stone castle walls, he gave me a careful and most knowing look. “I do fear that the goat is beyond any help of mine.”

Coalsmoke smirked just a little as she replied, “You are correct. This is Grumpy Goat, my long standing friend, of whom I am sure that you have heard. We are not here for him.

“This is Krystal Dragoness. She prefers to be called KD. Our problem is sort of related to her, but it is not medical.”

Resting his chin on one forehoof, as he sat behind the desk, Doctor Mordenheim inquired, “If the problem is not medical, then what is it?”

I held out a hoof, “KD, may I have the bag please?”

I showed him the bottom. “Somepony named Redline is using your cutie mark on his things. It has some interesting properties.”

Mordenheim put his face in his hooves. “I know. I see that KD has it. She can't lose it either. Whatever is in it, seems like an endless supply. I made it, years ago. How it got here to this world, I have no idea.”

He was sort of surprised when we all simply found seating and Coalsmoke asked casually, “So, how did you get here? More to the point, when you arrived, did you meet an elderly blue unicorn with a white mane, tail, and beard?”

Mordenheim looked blank. “What? No, I never met anypony like that.”

He got a seriously uncomfortable expression as he elaborated, “I would really prefer not to go into why I wound up here. Princess Luna knows in detail. Suffice it to say that the events led me to wandering in the Everfree Forest. I have no idea at all how it happened, since the Everfree is not all that big, but I was in there for over a week. Perhaps more, I am not at all sure. What I am sure of is that the path that I was on did not seem to double back on itself or any thing like that. Between sun breaks in the forest canopy and the scenery, I am sure that I was not going in circles.

“I happened on the ruin of this old castle. I might have simply passed it by but it had a small cobbled road leading to it from outside of the forest. I followed that road and it led me to Ponyville.” He shook his head in wonder, “It was a very different Ponyville than the one that I left. By good fortune, I met Caramel Treat, Fangrin and Reverend Smallflower. The rest all came from meeting them.”

I pointed out, “Fascinating as that is, it completely dodges the question of that bag and its neverending supply of adulterated Dragon Muffins.”

One of Doctor Mordenheim's ears cocked up in fascination. “Adulterated? How?”

Coalsmoke filled in, “With lots of zinc metal dust, that's how.”

Doctor Mordenheim winced, “Ouch! That would make mountains of hydrogen gas! That could cause a serious problem for a dragon!”

KD confirmed, “It sure does! The hiccups that it causes have been near the ruin of my art.”

Suddenly you could see things clicking together in Doctor Mordenheim's mind! “KD? Art? Did you do the covers and illustrations for Daring Do and the Secret of the Apploosa Cave? The Adventure of the Singing Sands? The Nippony Diamond?”

KD nodded, clearly pleased. “All three! Why?”

Acting like a foal as he was going to his book shelf, Mordenheim snagged all three books and returned to his desk. “I love your art, KD, would you please autograph these for me?”

With an impishly evil grin, displaying her big dragon chompers, KD replied, “Sure!” She was reaching into the bag. “Just as soon as I snack on this muffin! Or, you make this bag harmless!”

Grinning right back, and revealing a set of fangs that would not have been out of place in a tiger shark, Mordenheim replied, hoof over heart, “You wound me! I was going to do that anyway. You did not need blackmail me. It did make it more fun, though!”

KD chuckled as she said, “I would not really have done it, Doc. It was just too much fun to pass up the chance. So, tell us, why did you make a bag like this?”

Reassured that we did not hold his apparent past against him, he sat back comfortably and half smiled at the memory. “Revenge. Count Sourbottom was being a problem, objecting to some of my experi . . . projects. He had a whole herd of foals of all ages. One of the youngsters had a birthday party coming up. I set up one of these for each of them! Loaded them with the finest, sweetest candies that I could locate. It was a near perfect revenge.”

Always interested in more ways to get back at ponykind for their mistreatment of me in the past, I asked, “How was giving his foals candy any sort of revenge?”

Suddenly, Coalsmoke put a hoof to her lips to suppress giggles. “Don't you see it, Grumpy? He couldn't take them away for discipline because the bags will go right back to the foals. Worse, the endless supply of sweets could cause all sorts of health and mouth problems that the Count would have to pay for!”

Mordenheim nodded happy agreement. “Last that I heard, Count Sourbottom was headed for bankruptcy on dental bills alone!”

Going more serious, he offered, “KD, we may be able to save the gem topping of your muffins if we are lucky. Would you like that?”

KD replied seriously, “That would be great, if we can do it. I really like their flavor, especially the crushed rubies. How can we do it?”

Doctor Mordenheim picked up the bag and headed for the outside door. Over his shoulder, he invited, “Come outside for a simple little experiment. We can save the gems themselves for sure. Question is whether we can save the topping that they are in or not.”

He pointed down the yellow cobble road leading to his door. “Now, my dear, take a muffin out of the bag but don't eat it.”

Mystified, she hoofed over the muffin. “I understand why I have to get it out, but why not eat it? What are we going to do with it?”

With total assurance, Doctor Mordenheim replied, “You are going to eat it but in parts. Here, let me scrape off the topping.” Carefully he removed the topping, taking none of the muffin itself. “Just eat the topping. I will hold the muffin for now.”

With obvious relish, KD did. Licking it off her claws, she asked, “What now? I like this test!”

“We wait a bit to see if you get gas. If you don't, the zinc is only in the muffin part.”

KD cocked her head, brow wrinkled in concentration. “I don't feel any gas coming on. That usually happens pretty quick when it does.”

“I see. To finish the test, eat the rest of the muffin now.”

She did. And was soon hiccuping blasts of flame.

Nodding in confirmation, he said, “Just in the muffin then. We can definitely save the topping for you. Would you like just this topping or would you prefer it on something?”

“As it happens, I do have something that it might go good on.”

Back inside, she produced a bag. We all saw Mordenheim's nose dilate as he caught the scent. His ears shot forward in interest. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth!

“What is that lovely smelling stuff, KD?”

“Gator Chow. I got it from Pinkie Pie over on the bridge. She told me that it is made from smoked and flaked meat pressed into bite sized chunks.”

Both Coalsmoke and I were rolling on the floor, laughing! Getting myself somewhat under control, I commented, “Those teeth of yours are real, aren't they, Doc?”

“Yes, they are. Is it a problem?”

Coalsmoke, composing herself comfortably on a large cushion, replied, “Not for us. It was just unexpected. Looks like Pinkie is going to have to stock in more Gator Chow, is all.

“This explains why Caramel has mentioned you eating there a lot but I haven't seen you, and I eat there too. You eat in the back, in her carnivore plaza.”

“Right. Now, KD, those Gator Chow chunks are just about muffin sized. That is about as big as the bag can handle. It is time to disarm the bag from those bad muffins.”

He got a large, heavy book from the shelf. Instead of consulting it, he held it at the ready.

“Now, KD, take the muffin out and move your paws away from the bag swiftly.”

As she did, he slammed the book down on top of the bag! He held it down for around a whole minute. Relaxing, he pronounced, the spell is reset. It can now be reloaded and set to anyone. Just a sec.”

He went into the back and returned with salad tongs and a spreading knife. Selecting one of KD's chow chunks, he carefully and neatly spread the gem topping onto it. Taking the tongs, he used them to insert the topped chow chunk into the bag.

“Now, KD, just reach into the bag and take out the snack. That will reset the bag to you with a safe treat. You also now know how to change treats any time that you want.”

Saying, “Thanks, Doc!” KD fished out the treat and nibbled it down with gusto!

I was watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes that I don't really have. Thinking it over, I pointed out, “KD, whoever set you up was at the show in Manehatten. The way it works, that spell didn't lock onto you until you took out that first muffin.

“It may be time for a contract or a bit of detective work in Manehatten. Perhaps both.”

Thoughtfully she suggested, “There is another big art show in Manehatten in a few days. I do have a studio there with some finished pieces that I could enter if I could get there in time. That would give us the cover that we need for detective work if we can arrive in time.”

I suggested, “If time is a problem, I could try setting up a portal between here and the Manehatten fairgrounds. It has been a while since I studied that but it is really pretty simple magic.”

We all trooped outside and I began the really pretty basic preparations for opening a portal spell. I did add a whole lot of “stage dressing” rituals, circles and other misdirection. I always do. Better showmanship and it hides what makes it work from prying eyes, even if they are watching.

A glowing circle appeared in the air, just in front of us and barely touching the ground. Suddenly it began to grow, becoming a huge oval. Something enormous, making a steady pulsing roar and clanking like metal was coming toward us!

First, pretty high up, came a sort of short crossways tube with a hole in it on the side facing us. The thing continued to advance. That funny bit was attached to a long metal tube! Down lower, some big metal plates appeared and then between them an enormous bridge of metal. Huge wheels of steel supported endless linked plates of more steel!

As the contraption came on out, it was revealed to be a gigantic machine of some sort! It had sloped sides up to a heavy device on top that the long tube came out of. That had sloped sides too, as if this thing were made to bounce catapult shots off of it! There were some serious dents and obvious repairs that made it seem that those slopes were strictly functional!

Sticking her head up out of a hatch in the top was a pony who looked for all the world like Rainbow Dash! Reinforcing that idea was a brown pegasus with a black mane and tail clinging to the rear of the machine and calling out loudly enough to be heard over the machine's roar!

“Dashie! Stop! You going to smash through garden wall again! You crush Jade's herb garden again! You so grounded!”

Dashie retorted, “I not hit wall, dad! Big blue hole show up. I drive through that! Besides, last time I drive through Jade's herb garden, I fix it better than before. She ask me to squash it again!”

“And one more thing! Dashie, you make me good hot tea or you so grounded you need dig up for thousand year to see daylight!”

Innocently she shot back, “If I that grounded, I make you nice tea that De Writer send for me to get you! It his idea to get it with remote control T82 Main Battle Tank! If I NOT grounded, I MIGHT be able to find you nice green tea that he never touch!”

The brown pegasus sat hard. “De Writer ask you to use Remote Control T82 IN CANTERLOT for that tea? You not so grounded as I thought.”

The one identified as Dashie noticed us from her vantage point, high up in the top part of the T82. She picked up a small boxy thing with buttons and levers and pushed one of the buttons. The T82's loud grumbling fell quiet.

“Um, Dad, we come through portal, I think. You not teach me that magic yet. There ponies here and a dragon. Come around T82 and you see. There small castle here too.”

The brown pegasus stepped around the metal monster and courteously introduced, “I Thomas the Writer. Miscreant who drive T82 through your portal my daughter Dashie Writer. T82 is educational toy give her by De Writer.”

Mordenheim looked up at the behemoth of steel and remarked, “Where you are from has different ideas about educational toys than any place I have ever been.”

Dashie replied, “It crazy where we from too, but what you expect from powerful wizard like De Writer? Something safe? He good to have on your side when trouble come, though.”

She turned about and exclaimed, “The portal gone!”

It was true. Standing where it had been was a familiar cat otter hybrid with red hair. She was wearing a well worn cloak of dark green and light seeming chain mail. Mithril by the look of it. Her left arm was a prosthesis, a mechanical arm of metal that moved in an utterly natural way. Under the cloak was the scabbard of a large sword. In her mechanical hand was a parchment that looked like a map of some sort.

She tucked away the map in a pouch at her waist and looked about, her gaze missing nothing. Smiling, she waived! “Hi, Grumpy! It's me, Wind! We met at Ponyville Fair, remember? I am part of Marchhare's band of Rom. I was going to meet them at Haymarket fair, up north, but this out of control portal got in the way. I took the liberty of closing it.”

Thomas gave Wind a strangely puzzled look. “This world with Marchhare in it?”

She shrugged, “I wouldn't be going to meet him and his band if it wasn't! Why?”

Speaking to Dashie, Thomas said, “This important lesson, Dashie. How many worlds in multiverse?”

She replied, “Infinite. Everyone and thing have infinite copies, each a little different.” Raising her eyebrows in thought, she added, “This a trick question, isn't it, Dad?”

“Sort of. You very quick. Every rule have exception, right?”

Putting hoof to chin, she thought and then went wide eyed with realization! “Every rule have exception, even that rule!”

Thomas lifted his wings in pleasure. “Right! This ONLY world in whole multiverse that have Marchhare! That is secret to navigation when go between worlds.”

Dashie blinked. “What happen when he dies?”

“Nothing, Dashie. Marchhare already dead. Not die twice.”

We were all listening in amazement. It was newcomer Wind who said, “That is sort of a relief. That there is only one of my foster dad, I mean. I have met some of myself and it was not the best of experiences!”

She put her jaw in her metal hand and examined the whole situation carefully. Turning to me she asked, “Did you cast the portal, Grumpy?”

Scraping the grass where I was standing with one nonexistent forehoof and looking down, I muttered, “Afraid so. Portals are not really my specialty. I guess that I really messed this one up.”

Wind stepped over and lifted my glamor's head to look me in the eye. “I am an expert with portals. That one was really well done. It would have worked perfectly if you had not cast it here. The Everfree's Hidden Ways are what messed you up.

“Now, where were you trying to go?”

KD interjected, “We were aiming for the fairgrounds at Manehatten by the Sea.”

Wind nodded in a very take charge sort of way. “I see. That is about 6 or 7 hundred kilometers from here.”

Leaning casually up against the iron monster called T82, Wind asked, “Does this thing have personnel and cargo railings and how fast is it, uh, Dashie?”

Dashie brightened up as she replied, “It sure does have safety railings! I use them when I give Mia and Becky rides. It can go as far as you want. Out in the open, it can hit 100 kilometers an hour! How did you know about that?”

Wind gave a delicate shudder, “I have adventured on a few worlds where similar machines were used. I saw the passenger railings on some of them.”

Wind smiled ingratiatingly at Thomas. “Would you be willing to let Dashie take us all on an Adventure to Manehatten by the Sea? It will get these nice beings where they need to go and be fun for us all. From there, I can easily send you both back home.”

Dashie had hopped out of the top of the T82 and began releasing catches and lifting up metal railings. They clicked as they locked into place. When she was done, she lowered a set of steep metal stairs to climb up onto the back of her “educational toy.”

Thomas watched with a skeptical lift to his right eyebrow. “I not say we go, Dashie.”

She looked him straight back in the eye as she retorted, in front of us all, “Right. All that you have to do is tell our hosts that you won't do something simple and fun to help them.”

“That blackmail, Dashie!”

“Right. Between you and our De Writer, I learn from the best!”

He chuckled, “OK. We do it.”

Wind swung easily up the boarding stair and called, “All aboard for the Manehatten Express!”

KD swarmed up, found the engine vents, and curled up with a “Dibs on the warm spot!”

Coalsmoke gently pushed me toward the enormous device with, “I would love to go too, Grumpy, but I have serious business to talk over with Victor. The Princesses want to set up a program for helping wounded veterans of their armies.”

Dashie started the T82 and made a big turn. Wind guiding her, we set out for Adventure! And Manehatten.

Technically, we took Doctor Mordenheim's path down to the Falmire cutoff and turned south towards the junction with Royal Road 315. For some reason, the busy traffic of Ponyville's industrial district gave way before us, even when it had the right of way! Couldn't imagine why! Surely it had nothing to do with fifty or more tonnes of steel monstrosity charging along at a “mere” twenty kilometers per hour.

We reached the Royal Road toll booth without incident. Almost had an incident there. The poor booth keepers were going nuts trying to sort out the proper toll.

Pages were fluttering back and forth in their toll manuals, “It ain't a cart or wagon from any section! Darn thing is made out of iron like a fool locomotive on the railroad!”

“I know, Jeb! Can't even classify it by team size or set up! It runs itself!”

Wind was sitting on the edge of the turret, which Dashie had taught us was the name for that upper part with the long pipe sticking out of it, and giggling at the small uproar.

“When Marchhare hears about this, he will split his harness, he will laugh so hard!”

One of the toll collectors looked up at her and got a beatific smile. “You are Wind, from Marchhare's band of Rom, right? I saw you at our fair a couple of times.”

She nodded acknowledgment, “Yes, Sir. I am.”

He turned to his buddy and pushed the manuals shut. “Just write Rom from Marchhare's band, toll free by Crowns Law.”

Jeb did write, though he was still trying to protest. His superior shut him down with, “Jeb, like enough you are right. Still, it solves OUR problem.” He tripped the gate mechanism and the flimsy red and white painted wooden bar lifted up out of our way.

We pulled onto the Royal Road. Besides less traffic, it was wider and better maintained than the Ponyville road we had come from. Dashie began to open up the speed once we had clear road ahead of us. I must say, I was impressed. Dashie was not kidding about hitting a hundred kilometers an hour!

The T82 was fast and high enough that we had to duck shade tree branches! A delighted KD had her sketchbook out and was rapidly drawing things from her high perspective!

Chortling, she explained, “Even as roughs, some of these will adapt to pictures for my book contract! This is great!”

Wind steered us into one of the many waysides, making Dashie slow down and drive gently as we parked for the evening. With assurance, she showed us where the free water and firewood were.

With a fond smile, Wind recalled, “I have camped here before, while traveling with Dad's band. There is a small stream over in the bushes that we can get fresh fish and crawdads out of for a nice dinner.”

KD had out an easel and was busily drawing with colors. She was doing the T82 framed by a sunset of riotous clouds and glowing light.

She asked politely, “Wind, would you be so good as to pose there, just below the turret? I want your metal arm just casually holding something and your sword out in your right hand, ready but not on a guard.”

Wind did pose. It really did not take KD long at all to capture the feeling of the scene. The way that Wind was posing, it looked for all the world like she OWNED the metal monster behind her!

Done posing, Wind stretched and began doing limbering up exercises. With an expression of delight, and without even thinking about it, Wind began to dance and sing in a language strange to all of us. I did recognize it from my times at the Ponyville fair, serving mainly as security for Caramel Treat's excellent food booth. The language was Gyptian, the sort of private and held secret, nearly melodious tongue of the Rom. I did recognize the dance.

She was treating us to the Shehan Ja Rom, their story of how the Rom came to be. I gather that it is the oldest dance and song of the Rom. As her dance and song finished, I remembered that the Rom did not clap for applause. I leaned my head back and gave the loud trill that the Rom use.

Wind looked sort of startled as the others followed suit. Embarrassed, she mumbled, “Sorry. It was just the joy of being on the road again.”

It was KD who said it, “Don't be sorry. It was lovely. Is there an Equestrian translation?”

I put in, “I know that there is. That was the famous Shehan Ja Rom. The Rom traditionally dance and sing it in an Equestrian version to open fairs. What I am curious about is how Wind, who is nothing like any horse or pony, came to be a Rom and of Marchhare's band at that.”

Wind sat near the fire and absently began to assemble vegetable skewers for Dashie, Thomas and I. “I made a little mistake while adventuring. I survived it, obviously. Mama Dragon fixed me up and sent me here, to this Equestria to finish healing and recuperate. De Writer met me and steered me to Marchhare's band.

“Good thing, too. One of my wounds developed a small inflammation that could have killed me. Black Lotus, Marchhare and Hoof Dancer, his wife at the time, healed me. Mama Dragon was wise in sending me to them for a month. I had more than physical wounds to heal. I joined them and learned to read, write and speak Gyptian. Having a real caring and extended family provided the rest of the healing that I needed. Now, I have my Freedom and I can come and go as I wish, but my Rom family is always there for me.”

I could tell that there was a lot left out but Wind cut her tale off without harming her tail by asking, “Grumpy, will you tend these skewers for me while I go catch some fish, crawdads and a bunny or two for dinner to share with KD?”

I realized at once that besides being an adventurer, Wind was quite diplomatic. She had just reminded the lot of us that KD had not eaten all day, except for snacks, and that both she and Wind were carnivores. Possibly hungry carnivores.

Dashie took off too, calling, “Wind! Wait up! I want see how you hunt and fish without fancy gear.”

Wind looked back, nodded and then beckoned with a finger curl. As soon as Dashie was up to her, Wind slid into the brush without a sound. Dashie, trying to follow was pretty quiet.

Coming to the creek bank, Wind laid flat and wriggled forward on her stomach. Carefully parting the small thin wands of the bank willows, she slid her right arm into the water, reaching back, under the cut bank. Her face screwed up with concentration, she eased her hand up, feeling for a fish. Smiling, she slid her hand further up and grabbed!

Rolling back and lifting, Wind flipped the good sized trout out onto the bank! She caught the flopping creature and bent its head back to break its neck. She snipped off a thin bank willow strand with her knife and laced it through the fish's gills and out the mouth. Loosely knotting the ends, she hung the fish up and repeated the trick three more times!

Dashie was watching with awe. “I never even hear of fishing that way! How you do it?”

Wind picked up her willow loop with fish and replied, “It takes practice to tickle trout but it is not really hard. You need to be careful and gentle. When you feel the fish with your fingers, you need to work your way up until you feel the pectoral fins, those just behind the gills. Snap your fingers into the gills and lift it out quickly.

“Now for a nice brace of bunnies and dinner will ready to cook.”

Dashie, keeping her voice down, asked, “I see warren right over there. How you catch them? Some kind of trap?”

Wind, following Dashie's pointing hoof, shook her head. “I could, and if we were going to be here longer, I would set some snares. Since it is only dinner and breakfast, I will just pounce them. It is easier and quicker.”

Dashie watched Wind ghost her way through the brush toward the warren. Choosing her place, she waited, a bunched spring of living huntress. Nothing moved except for the tip of her tail twitching slightly. It was only a few minutes before a bunny hopped lazily toward one of the main holes of the warren. Wind's pounce included a fast chop with her metal hand! The bunny only twitched once before going still.

Wind quietly picked a different spot and soon had a second bunny!

Bearing her prey, Wind and Dashie returned to camp. On their way, Wind asked, “Why did you want to see how I got fish and bunnies? Most ponies really don't want to see that.”

Face flaming a little with embarrassment, Dashie replied, “I am sort of, like half dragon. I turn into one if I need to or want to. Thing is, I not very good at getting meat to eat! I have to turn back to a pony and graze up dinner! There are times that really inconvenient!”

Wind chuckled. “I can see that! We have one more stop before Manehatten by the Sea. I will take you out hunting there too, OK?”

Back at camp, Wind considerately went to the other side of the T82 to clean and prepare her catch. A lightly drooling KD went to help! They both returned to the camp, licking their lips and smiling. They were finishing up with some of KD's endless supply of Gator Chow. Wind had carefully cleaned off the gem topping from hers and used it to enhance KD's snack.

As we were settling about the fire, Dashie asked, “Um, Wind, did Rom hold you prisoner some way? You say you have your freedom.”

Wind chuckled at the misunderstanding. “No, Dashie. The Rom Freedom is a thing that they wear. Here, I have mine in my bag.”

She reached into her bag at her waist and her arm seemed to go in further than was possible. She saw us staring and snorted her amusement. “It is called a bag of holding. It is sort of like Marchhare's caravan. It is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Here it it is!”

Stopping her rummaging, she pulled out a sort of headstall thing of richly tooled and dyed leather with rings and buckles that looked to be gold. She strapped it on.

“This is a Freedom of the Rom. They grant them only to beings that they have fully accepted as one of their own.”

“Why is call a Freedom?” Dashie wondered.

Wind lifted her chin with pride. “The original cast off slaves that were the first Rom wore a headstall with a bit and lead ring. They had them all their lives and were not comfortable without something on their heads. They re made them into the Freedom by taking away anything by which they could be made to serve another. No bit or lead ring has ruled any Rom from that day to this.” Very carefully, Wind removed her Freedom and put it away.

KD had curled into an amazingly hard to see coil of dragon to sleep until dawn. The rest of us were spreading blankets to sleep under the stars.

A wagon full of road repair tools and an accompanying work gang of ponies pulled into the rest area. A couple of them strode arrogantly to our camp and demanded, “We are hungry! What ever food you got, hoof it over now! You don't, we gonna take sledgehammers to that there tin thingy!”

I gently prodded the almost sleeping dragon in our midst. KD had been paying attention! Her head rose up, eyes alight. A curl of flame showing at each nostril and outlining her barely opened jaws completed the picture!

She serenely asked, “What? More dinner? I'm not sure that I could hold another whole pony. Mind if we just sort of pack along the leftovers for lunch?”

Dashie had lifted a fully draconic head. In the late evening's light we could not make out her color but we could easily make out the totally paling ponies!

“What! They got TWO DRAGONS!”

Dashie corrected, “No. Two HUNGRY dragons!”

Dashie was giggling at the frantic retreat of the two jerks! Got to admit to some chuckles of my own. KD's sides were heaving as she re coiled herself.

Dashie got up onto all fours. In the dying firelight, she could be seen to be a light blue color. She flexed her wings a couple of times and strolled over to where the road crew ponies were carelessly re packing to leave. In terror but not so terrified that they were willing to have to pay for abandoned gear!

One thoughtlessly yelled, “Road camp privacy! Stay away, that is kingdom law!”

Wind, who was almost unnoticed at Dashie's right front leg, calmly pointed out, “You have just admitted that you knew that you were breaking kingdom law when you tried to hijack our dinner. In your haste to correct your error, you dropped your sledgehammers. Here!”

Wind revealed a hidden strength by casually giving the heavy hammers an underhand toss. Both hammers overshot the wagon and hit the turf on the other side of it.

That got the attention of the road crew ponies! One noticed, “How come you only got one arm?”

Smiling angelically, which showed off her fangs nicely, Wind reached up with her metal left arm and scritched at the base of Dashie's left dragon horn as she replied, “What, this?” Campfire light glinting from her metal arm, she said casually, “Kitten here, and I got to roughhousing last week! She was a little too enthusiastic, that's all.”

Dashie, catching on to the game, bent her head around and gave Wind a lick at the shoulder and said contritely, “I said that I was sorry! We just need to find a Phoenix potion so that you can regrow it. Again.”

They strolled back to our camp, Wind taking the time to re hang her cloak to sort of hide her metal arm. Thomas, Dashie, now turned back to a pegasus, and I nibbled up Wind's excellent fruit and vegetable skewers.

Wind toasted the last of the bunnies and trout over KD's flame and shared that extra bit dinner with her. Dashie “sneaked” over and turned back to a dragon to beg a few bites. Grinning, they let her have some.

Sleeping out in the open, I did not have my usual nightmares of a Celestian Church mob burning my home, studies, and, failing to trap me in the house, attempting to stone me to death. Perhaps my feelings of safety came of sleeping beside a big blue dragon? One that liked me? Very likely.

It could not last. For one thing, dawn comes far too soon for a cave dwelling goat like me. The other was a light blue bundle of enthusiasm with rainbow mane and tail! Dashie was bounding into camp! She was waiving a forked stick with three big fat trout on it! It was laced through their gills and out their mouths, with the forked branch acting as a stop to keep them from sliding off.

“I did it, Wind! I tickle trout just like you show me how!”

Wind looked up from laying the morning cook fire. Her grin showed her usually hidden fangs as she replied, “Just like I showed you? Not sure how to point this out diplomatically but you don't have any fingers to do it with.”

Totally disingenuous, Dashie replied, “I just use my magic like you show with hand. It not hard. Real trick was find where fish hide. You show me that. They too quick to catch if just grab. Gentle tickle is trick.”

Both KD and I were listening with rapt attention. It was clear that Thomas and Dashie's Equestria was very different from this one. As they talked, that became more and more apparent.

“Does your magic come from being a weredragon?”

“Only a little. Most I learn from Dad. He one of two most powerful beings in our Equestria. Be honest, I think De Writer worst. Super strong magic and wicked sense of humor. And bored. He three thousand years old. Raise Princesses.”

“I see. Do other pegassi use magic where you come from?”

“Not really. Dad figure out that there more magic in world than Earth, Pegassi, and Unicorn. It come from his mom, Aurora, the Demon Queen.”

We all looked askance at the innocent appearing brown pegasus. This was getting more and more interesting all the time.

Wind just nodded, took the fish and efficiently set about preparing them. She also pulled some fresh looking apples and peaches out of the bag at her waist. She expertly split them into proper chunks and dropped them into a pot. She added a little fresh water and, reaching into her bag of holding, pulled out a box with many drawers and bottles, a jar with a sealed top and a small flour bag.

I was sort of amazed, watching the sheer skill with which Wind organized breakfast. She even had water on heating in a biggish pot. She added some from the sealed bottle. The camp filled with the heavenly aroma of Rom black tea!

Satisfied with the progress of the fruits in the pot, she added sugar, cinnamon from one of the drawers of the box and stirred in the flour to thicken it.

It smelled heavenly, not like regular flour at all. Wind closed the bag and returned box, bag and jar to her bag of holding. She saw my calculating look as I watched it all happening.

Wrinkling her nose in amusement, she explained, “Ka'chek flour. A Rom without it? Unheard of!”

Breakfast lived up to the lovely scents, and then some.

Wind, KD and Dashie went to the other side of the T82 to fix and eat the trout. Coming back, Dashie and KD were finishing up gem topped Gator Chows and Wind was nibbling at one with the topping removed.

While they were eating, the rest of us cleaned up all the cookware and put out the fire. We especially cleaned out the fruit stew pot! Nearly came to blows over who got to lick it out! Good sense prevailed and we took turns licking parts of it. Then, we washed it. We did have one thing unwashed.

We saved Wind the last mug of Rom black tea. Smiling at our courtesy, Wind drained it and saw to proper washing of the mug. She then caused us all a small croggle of the mind by causally putting all of the clean cookware and dishes into her bag of holding!

We all piled onto the remote controlled T82 and Dashie got us on the road again!

I noticed that Wind was wearing her Freedom and had put on a harness. It was as richly tooled and dyed as her freedom. They were clearly a matched set.

While KD was busy with her art, making fast sketches of the lands that we were passing through, I made bold to ask, “Why the Rom outfit? This is not exactly a caravan.”

Wind giggled at some joke that I did not understand as she replied, “Actually, it is. You just have to understand what caravan means. It is a loan word from the desert Kingdoms that was already in use by the time that the first Rom came here. In their language of Gyptian, it means something slightly different from how it is used in Equestrian.

“It is just that there is a road section toll gate coming up in a little. Me being dressed this way should get us through the gate for free.”

Nodding acceptance for her reason, I turned my attention to Thomas, who was trying hard to act like an adult pegasus, rather than a colt having the time of his life.

I guessed, “You have not ridden on Dashie's T82 before, have you Thomas?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he admitted, “Never before this. I think that she get to play with it more but need daddy supervision!”

I was chuckling at that when we all felt the iron monster slowing down. Wind, pointing ahead, made clear exactly why. There was the toll booth with its light weight red and white bar across the road. There was a substantial cabin in back of it for use of the toll collectors when off duty and out here, kilometers from any town. A sign said, WELCOME TO THE MANEHATTEN ROYAL ROAD SECTION.

Wind hopped off the top of the huge left tread guard of the T82 and greeted the toll takers, “Hi! What do you think of my new act? Just doing a shake down run to IRON out any problems! We are promised entertainment for the big art show.”

The utterly bemused light yellow toll collector turned to his lavender buddy and shook his head. Pushing the toll manual shut he said, “Rom. No accounting for 'em. Just write Rom, toll free by Crowns Law.”

He tripped the mechanism and the toll gate rose up out of our way.

As the mechanical behemoth passed through the gate, Wind trotted after and swung up the steel boarding stair and resumed her place on top of the turret, next to Dashie.

We had passed two of the Waysides when Wind guided Dashie into one that seemed empty. It was nowhere near noon, yet.

“Thanks, Dashie! There is a friend here that I want to talk to. It would have been rude to just go by and not say Hi.”

With that, she bounced off the turret, grabbed what we had learned was called the Main Gun, and swung, letting go and landing lightly. She sprinted over to the edge of the woods.

Sitting suddenly, she quietly reached out and laid a sparkling pebble among many others in that spot. She said, “Hanar Na Kili.” We could not make out the rest. It was all in Gyptian. It contained pauses as if she was listening to what another was saying. The conversation was soon over.

Wind got up, smiling serenely, and returned to us. Dashie had turned to a dragon so that she and KD could share a couple of KD's gator chows.

Wind suggested, “We could get going, now. The Loved Dead are always with us. Hanar and I had a nice chat.”

It was slowly percolating through the brain that I don't really have, just how different Rom are. And I have known them, shared food with them and talked with them for years. They have even been guests in my cave. I have heard that expression, the Loved Dead are always with us hundreds of times. I have heard about Laying the Stones goodness only knows how many times. This was the first time that I had seen it.

Seeing how Wind treated it, both casually and with absolute assurance, as if the horse in that grave that the Rom call a Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, or Lake for short, was really there, made it hit me like a gut punch.

I knew, like everybeing in Equestria that the ONE THING THAT YOU DO NOT DO is desecrate any Wayside burial. Ponies who die more than two days travel from their homes are entitled to a Wayside burial. It is a Royal Benefice. The graves are marked and tended as part of Wayside maintenance.

All Rom who die get a Wayside burial, that they call a Lake or going to the Lake. They lay small, inexpensive, but pretty pebbles on them to mark them.

Desecration of a Rom Lake will bring the Princesses in person to investigate. The criminals WILL get caught. Penalties are HARSH. They range from twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads up to life. The worst offenders, who have actually exhumed Rom remains get a punishment worse than simple death.

They get life in the Twins Mine, digging mercury ore. The fumes destroy the mind and wrack the body. After the first few such grave robberies, centuries ago, no pony in their right mind will risk that.

Wind looked so quietly happy that I had to wonder whether there was any truth to the Rom belief in the Lake of Paradise.

Dashie finished her snack and changed back to a pegasus. We all piled back onto the T82 educational toy and hit the road again. It was not long before we came to a bridge across a stream.

It was a nice, well built and solid bridge. It was clear that it was not made to take the sheer mass of the T82.

Dashie, following Wind's suggestions and pointing, reversed the T82 for about fifty or sixty meters. There, she eased off the road and headed toward the stream. She stopped short, while Wind scouted ahead, dropping down the stream bank and checking the bottom to be sure that it would hold up the tank.

Returning, she suggested to the others, “I think that you should get off and use the bridge on foot. This will be a wild ride!”

KD pointed to the line of ten to fifteen centimeter diameter trees that lined both sides of the stream skeptically. “Um, not to cast doubt or anything, but how do you plan to get this thing past those?”

Wind replied quietly, “I have seen machines like this, doing what they were designed to do. I don't think that it will be a difficult problem.”

KD and Thomas both looked into Wind's eyes and saw reflected experiences that they did not want to share. Neither did I. Thomas just said, “T82 break trees in orchard before this. I take Wind's advice.”

Nodding, KD followed him, saying, “Let me get to the center of the bridge and get my sketchbook out! I don't want to miss this!”

Figuring that the center of the bridge would have the best view of the proceedings. I joined them.

That was when I noticed something completely uncanny. As big and heavy as the T82 was, there was no sign of its driving across the grass and brush to get to the stream. Looking back, I saw that the road was in perfect condition, too.

I pointed it out to the one here who might know something about it. Thomas snickered happily, “Yes, know already. You not say anything to Dashie but she very good with magic of rock and stone. Also with magic of plants. She fix what educational toy do as it happen most time.”

Just then, it started. The T82 let out a loud roar and charged the treeline! There was a splintering set of crashing sounds as it struck the innocent vegetation! The trees did not stand a chance! They swayed, cracked and buckled, falling down into the stream as the “toy” crunched over them, tipping down steeply as it plunged into the stream! With a huge splash, followed by the churning up of rock, gravels and white water, the machine charged the opposite bank!

As it hit, I began to appreciate the ingenuity of the linked steel belts that the T82 ran on. There was a slope at the front before the treads hit the ground. Now, that slope let the machine claw its way up the bank, tilting back steeply as its momentum and driving tracks forced it up, pushing the trees aside and down while it topped the bank!

Dashie drove her “toy” up to the road's edge and parked it. She bailed out and took wing to the other side of the stream. Landing in the water, she transformed into her dragon self!

She called, “Dad! KD! Will you help please!?”

She was lifting the fallen trees back into their places, on the stumps that they had broken off from. While she was at it, I could see her magic going into the stems and branches, binding together cracks and breaks.

KD loped down and joined her. “What can I do, Dashie? I don't know anything about this kind of magic.”

“Just hold trunk up while I fix break and roots.”

Thomas strolled down and waded into the stream. He started repairing cracks and breaks in the wood of the fallen trees to speed things along.

Wind and I sat on the bridge rail and watched them work. She commented, “Ah, hard work! I can sit and watch it for simply hours!”

It really did not take all that long for the party to restore all the trees and larger brush, leaving almost no sign that the massive T82 had charged through there.

KD said it for all of us, as we climbed back aboard the T82, “I never even heard of magic like that before!”

As she was settling into the turret and picking up the remote control, Dashie shrugged. “All world each a little different. Some thing go from world to world, some not. Magic dad teach me, it work.”

Not too much later, we pulled into a Wayside to fix lunch. Some heavy freight dray ponies were already camped there, so Dashie parked us at a site well away from them, to give them camp privacy.

They stomped over to us just as Wind was setting a large pot of water to heat.

“Whatever you gots to eat gotta be better than our road ration oats! Hoof it over! We even got you a bag of oats to make it a fair trade!”

Dashie quelled Wind before she could say anything. She gestured for KD to stay hidden behind the T82. Pretending to quail some, she replied, “We just stop for ordinary tea before go on. Got special box tea need to be deliver.”

Thomas, sounding indignant, demanded, “No! Dashie, that tea special! Got to go to Castle . . .”

“They meaner than us, Dad! I give them one packet. Only make them a couple of gallon.”

She ducked down into the T82's interior and returned with a modest package wrapped in gold colored foil.

She made a point of securing the oats before giving them the package. “We going be in much trouble for this. Oats is least you can do.”

As they retreated, I noticed that Thomas had a diabolical grin. Dashie, on the other hoof, simply hopped up on the T82 and tripped something on her control box.

The turret turned and the main gun lowered some. It pointed the big main gun directly at the drover's camp.

All that Thomas would say was, “It De Writer tea. Never know what happen. Best be safe!”

Wind's ears perked up! Almost too casually, she asked, “Is that thing loaded?”

Dashie sort of shrank a bit as she replied, “Yes. Have five case ammo. Two explosive, three solid shot. Five round in each case. De Writer give them to me when I get tea. Dad not like me have it.”

“OOPS! No time talk now! They getting water boiling!”

KD sidled up to Wind, “You seem to know a lot about this thing. Just how dangerous is it?”

Wind put an arm over KD's neck as she replied, “That depends on which kind of round Dashie has in the gun. A solid shot will rip a crater about two or three meters across. The flying dirt and stone from the fire place will make a deadly spray.

“If it is an explosive round, it will blast a hole about five or six meters across. It will scatter fragments of the shell and any loose stone or dirt too.

“Yes, the T82 could wreck any ordinary fortress in Equestria.”

KD was chortling, “I hope that the tea is worth a shot! Not only would I like to see that, I did not like those ponies at all.”

Thomas overheard and replied, “They not get hurt. De Writer not crazy. Have spell on T82 it not hurt any pony or intelligent being. Can do much property damage. That educational part of toy. Dashie get to fix up damage. Study hard her magics since she get it from De Writer!”

The wayside ponies added the tea to the water boiling in their big kettle.

As they did, Thomas asked urgently, “What De Writer say about brew tea?”

Dashie's brow wrinkled, “He say make in ceramic pot only a little at a time. It good for cold morning!”

Just then the flames began in the drover's big kettle of boiling water! They burst up in a great gout of blue and yellow fire! We could feel the heat from where we were! The sides of the big iron pot glowed red, then yellow! They began to melt!

In only seconds, the sides gave way and the tea gushed out, drowning the campfire, not that it was much help! The wood instantly went to ash! The tea soaked into the bottom of the fire place and the flames slowly subsided.

The heat had driven the drovers away from camp and wagon. The whole side of the wagon that had been facing the tea was charred. There were small wisps of smoke arising from it here and there.

Thomas was sitting on his rump laughing. “Now know why fix in ceramic pot and only little at a time! Definitely good for cold morning!”

While the drovers were frantically hitching up and hauling out of there, Thomas was thoughtfully heating water in an iron pot. He called up, “Dashie! Packet tea. Small measure. Ceramic pot I know you got in there!”

She popped up out of the hatch and gave Thomas the things that he had asked for. KD, who could breathe fire, quietly backed up.

Dashie saw it and reasured her, “With De Writer tea, follow direction important. We see what NOT do.”

Thomas added boiling water to the small, indeed tiny, measure of tea in the pot. Flame poured out the spout and leaked around the lid. It soon died. Thomas poured a small cup and smelled it.

“Have good nose.” He sipped. Eyes wide, he exclaimed, “This one of De Writer's best teas yet! Try some, Dashie!”

She promptly poured a cup for herself. “It good dad! Thanks!”

Wind added vegetables to her pot of boiling water and soon the savory scent of vegetable stew filled the camp area.

While it was cooking, she took Dashie and they entered the woods. It was not long before they returned with a couple of squirrels and a few bunnies. This time, it was Dashie, turned dragon, who toasted the carnivore lunch.

After everything was cleaned up and put away, Dashie strolled over to the camp that the drovers had used. While we watched, she actually pushed a few heat broken stones of the fireplace back to position. Somehow, they stuck. What really got me though was her casually picking up the hardened iron from the melted pot and the original fire grilles and sort of pushed, pulled and squeezed on them to make a good, substantial grill for supporting cook pots. It went into its place. She carefully scouted the camp, leaving bright green grass where it had been fire browned.

A grinning KD got several quick sketches!

Wind reminded us all, “The Manehatten fairgrounds turn off is only about another hour down the road. Shall we be gone?”

It did not actually take us an hour to get there. We all disembarked from the T82 and did stretches.

Among the assorted goodbyes, I heard Wind ask KD, “I am not on a schedule. Mind if I tag along to see your art show?”

I personally, after wishing Thomas and Dashie well, inquired, “Would it be possible for me to get some of that De Writer tea?”

He practically pounced on me! “How much you want? He send a crate of it! Got lots!”

“I could use several packages. Say, five?”

“Dashie! Get Grumpy five packets De Writer tea!”

Her voice muffled by being inside her machine, she retorted, “FIVE? What he want to do? Melt T82?”

As I took the packages of potentially deadly tea, Thomas pointed out, “You know Grumpy do magic. Pony here seem mostly think only unicorn do magic. Grumpy use much ritual and misdirection to keep them from catch on. I bet tea become part of that.”

My already high respect for Thomas went up another big notch. I nodded, “Right, Thomas. Also, once the fire burns off, it makes a really good tea. Right up there with Rom black.”

Wind told the group, “Well, I promised to send you back from here. Is it time to go?”

Though Dashie looked a little downcast, Thomas nodded, “It been fun here, but yes. It time to go home.”

Wind reached into her bag of holding and fished out a thing that looked like a map. She traced out what looked like a route on it with a delicate touch of one claw.

The pale blue oval of a portal big enough to drive a T82 main battle tank through appeared. Thomas climbed the passenger steps, up onto the back of the iron monster and our friends drove through. The portal silently vanished.

I turned to KD. “Which way to the Art Show?”

She nibbled a gator chow treat and pointed. “My studio first! Then off to the show!”

KD snickered, “You two are little! Hop on my back and we will make better time!”

As Wind boosted me up and then leaped up herself, she said, “I could get used to this. Traveling places without having to walk, I mean. First, the T82! That was fun! Now I get to ride dragonback again!”

I looked back, trying not to miss the sight of Manehatten's famously tall buildings. Many of them were over five levels tall! Some, in the downtown area looked to be way taller!

I commented, “Again? You have ridden dragons before?”

“Just one, Grumpy. My daughter Aurixa.”

That gave me real pause. I ventured, “Adopted?”

Sort of. I found her egg out in the wilderness not that far from Mama Dragon's cottage. I was there when Aurixa hatched. She imprinted on me as her mother.

“When she grew up some, we used to play together a lot, including riding her. I love flying on dragonback!

“Anyway, she grew up to where she was too big for that. Last I saw her, Aurixa was bigger than a house. I need to go home to Mama Dragon's and visit her. I miss them.”

We came to a nice two level house in the outskirts of town. The only odd thing about it from the outside was that the door was bigger than usual. KD got out a key and let us in.

The inside WAS unusual! The whole second level floor had been knocked out, leaving a sort of rim around the single large room. It was just the right height to serve as shelves for KD! There were a few scorch marks on the walls, souvenirs of her hiccups!

There were paintings and drawings in profusion! All was neatly organized. Drawings were in X-frames and paintings were racked or stood against the walls.

KD selected a number of drawings, including some from her sketchbooks filled up on the trip here. Truly professional, she framed the drawings and sketches behind glass. She had frames at the ready for her paintings. It took her about an hour and a half for her to be ready.

She put on a harness designed to carry framed work and suggested, “Load me up! The Manehatten Art Show is only about a kilometer from here!

We trudged through some pretty fancy streets and up a hill to a small estate. I giggled when I saw the iron scroll work lettering over the gate.

Wind nudged me and whispered, “Pretty up front about it, aren't they, Grumpy?”

The letters said, “Snob Hill Estate.” Under it was a banner proclaiming, “Snob Hill Art Festival! Opening soon!”

The pony watching the gate seemed both pleased and surprised to see KD. “Krystal! I was told that you would not be able to make this show! Let me announce you to the committee!”

She held him gently back. “Please don't, Edward. I am most curious as to who is saying that I would not come to this show.”

He sort of scraped the pave with a forehoof and looked down as he said, “I am not supposed to gossip about our patrons.”

KD grinned as she flipped him a silver bit. “You said nothing!”

Expertly fielding the coin, he said, “Of course it could not possibly be Drawin Pitcher spreading rumors about you.”

KD grinned, with many teeth, as she replied, “Of course not. Why would a fine artist like Drawin say anything negative about me?

“Oh, Edward, these fine beings are guests of mine.”

We went on in, following KD. She went straight for the main entrance to Snob Hall.

Even before we entered, we heard, “You know, I am really sorry to say that KD not only won't be making this show, it looks like she will have to give up the Daring Do contract.”

As she was about to charge in and confront the speaker, I gave her leg a tug. “Not quite yet, KD. Now, it is contract time. I suspect that this one can be really simple and oral, witnessed by Wind, here.”

I don't think that I have ever seen as many teeth as showed in KD's grin. “What sort of contract do you have in mind, Grumpy? I don't have a hundred gold on me.”

I pointed inside, “I overheard that. I will take one golden bit, ownership of that painting of Wind by the T82, and an autographed copy of the new book when it comes out. Thanks to the one bit, the magic will work.

“You can still enter the painting in the show as an original, on loan from the owner.

My refund terms will be one gold, one silver plus return to your ownership of the other items.

“What will happen is that not only the one who sabotaged you, but any accomplices will reveal their parts in such a way that they will receive the maximum of embarrassment. Attempts to extricate themselves will only dig them deeper.”

KD nodded slowly. “That sound pretty good. Can we include some career help for her, IF AND ONLY IF, she stays on the straight and narrow?”

I nodded, sucking in the cheeks that I don't really have. “I will include that. But only if it will still embarrass her.”

KD's tail wagged in delight, threatening several ornamental plantings! “Done! Here is the bit!.”

There was a brief flash of yellow in the sunlight. I put it in my saddlebag. “Wind, did you witness the contract and it's terms?”

If Wind's feral grin was not answer enough, her, “I did. You have a contract,” was.

KD breezed in through the big ornate doors. Cheerfully she called out, “Sorry to be late but I see that I am still in time for entering my latest works!”

The yellow mare with the green mane and tail that exclaimed, “It's KD! We have to get her out of here!” had to be Drawin Pitcher!

That was confirmed in mere seconds. KD said amiably, “I don't know what you are on about, Drawin! Oh, I see that you have some neat things up already! Let me get a closer look!”

As the blue dragon approached the hanging works, she absently pulled one of her crushed gem topped snacks from the bag. She was holding it so that all that could be seen was the topping. She started to munch it down as she got up close to the drawings and paintings of her rival.

Drawin Pitcher frantically charged KD and pushed her head aside, away from her art. “Please! Don't incinerate my art!”

KD turned her snout to aim directly at Drawin and asked in a mild voice, “Whatever to you mean, Pitcher? Why would I incinerate anypony's art?”

Drawin dodged behind a portly pony who was watching the scene unfold with interest. His cutie mark was a stack of books. He turned to her and, greatly puzzled, asked, “Why are you afraid of KD, Drawin? She has participated in many shows around the kingdom and never any incident like you seem to fear.

“True, last show she got a minor case of hiccups but controlled them and caused no harm at all. Why are you afraid now?”

There was a mumbled reply.

“What? That made no sense at all! What do you mean, it's the muffins?”

KD offered, “You were in industrial chemistry before you became a publisher, right, Mister Hazard?”

“I was.”

“Read this. It will explain most of the problem with the dragon muffins from this bag.” She fished in one of her bags and gave him a folded paper. “It is the Ponyville Police Department's Forensic Chemistry Laboratory report on the dragon muffins from this bag.”

His eyebrows rose sharply at what he read. “Zinc metal? That much in each muffin? No wonder you were having fire blast hiccups! Obviously, that little bag can't have held many of them. Why is she afraid of you now?”

For an answer, KD took a treat out of the bag and gave the bag to Mister Hazard. As she munched the treat, she pointed out, “I just emptied the bag. Notice how it has another treat in it now?” She pointed to a large painting on one wall, “Is that a Clyden Dale?” As he looked, she held up the bag. It had returned.

“See, Mister Hazard, the bag is enchanted by a form of non Equine magic. It always has another treat and it always comes back to me. That is why Drawin is afraid of me. She expects me to erupt in flame at any moment. It won't happen though.”

A despairing Drawin Pitcher hung her head. “It has to. Once the bag is set, you can't change it.”

KD grinned. “Want to bet, Ms. Pitcher? Thanks to Grumpy, here, we not only sorted out your little scheme to end my art career, we met a Zebra (not Zecora, Ponyville has TWO zebras now) who was familiar with the spell. He showed us how to re set it. These treats are harmless. Really tasty, too.”

Mister Hazard suggested, “Now that is taken care of, let's get your things entered and hung. We were saving you a panel for your work. Thanks to Ms. Pitcher, we almost put your panel away. That is it, over there.”

KD smiled properly for a collection of important ponies and began setting her selections out along the bottom of the display panel. As an aside to us, she commented, “The Show's Committee will have the final call about what is hung and what is not.”

She looked about and zeroed in on Drawin Pitcher. “Drawin, if you will do it, I have a little actual paying work for you!”

The yellow mare looked up from where she was about to fill out some papers at the art show's main desk. “What can you possibly want from me, KD? After everypony finding out about my trick, I was going to withdraw from the show.”

KD agreed, “It was a pretty dirty trick, Drawin. Only the ponies here right now know about it, though. That does not change the fact that your work is first rate. Stay in the show. We can cover this up really easily. My pieces will need labels. As far as I know, you are the best calligrapher in Manehatten.

“Any pony claiming bad blood between us will have to explain how YOUR distinctive calligraphy is on my labels.”

“Why are you trying to help me, after what I did?”

KD sat and scratched at her jaw spines with her big left hind claws before answering, “Critical thinking, Drawin. There are two parts to you. One is more than a bit mean and underhoofed. The other makes works like the ones over there on the wall. That last part is too valuable to lose. The first part should be lost, if you can.

“I am trying to save that valuable second part.”

Sourly the green maned yellow mare said, “I see. Actually, thanks. I need sales from this show or money from somewhere else or I could lose my studio.”

Laying a big claw gently over the withers of Drawin, KD said, “I do understand. Before I got established, I was there more than once. Here is my list of titles. What will you charge me?”

“After this? I may need money but I don't need it that badly. I will get right on these.”

“Fair enough, Drawin. When you finish these up, go talk to Mister Hazard. He has a commission, no committees or the like. I had to let it go, due to time constraints. It might be just right for you.”

Watching in fascination, wondering where the embarrassment would come from, I felt a really sort of creepy sensation. I was not sure, but it seemed to involve the two strange ponies standing outside the door.

I saw Drawn Pitcher hard at work, her pen producing truly excellent calligraphic labels for KD's art.

I hated to interrupt, but there could be a life or more in the balance. I really did not care one way or the other about the yellow mare's life, but KD DID. That tipped the scales, as it were.

I strolled over to her. “May I interrupt you briefly, Ms. Pitcher?”

She looked up with a glare, paused and made an obvious effort to compose herself. “Um, you are the goat that KD brought here, aren't you?”

“Correct. My card.”

I proffered my business card. It was embossed stock with raised lettering in black and gold gilt. It said:

GRUMPETER “GRUMPY” GOAT

Licensed Practitioner of Non Equine Magic

All work by publicly registered contracts.

Refund of 110% if contract terms are not met.

A ROYALLY CHARTERED BUSINESS

“Impressive. How can a goat even have a Royally Chartered business?”

I sort of sucked in my nonexistent cheeks a little and retorted, “By being VERY good at what I do. I wanted to ask you about how you got that bag. I know that it was not made on this world. Either you summoned it, or you summoned a being that brought you the bag.

“Since you knew how to load it and trick KD into taking it, my money is on the second choice.”

She sort of hung her head and absently scraped at the floor with a hind hoof as she replied, “You are right. I did summon something. It was like a cloud of ugly dark smoke with eyes floating in it. I told it what I wanted to do. I mean make KD so that she would lose the contract, but not be actually hurt.

“It brought me the bag and told me how to set it.”

I nodded as parts started falling into place. “I see. Two more questions. Which book did you use and did your summoning go right on the first try?”

“Umm, I was afraid to try the Necronomipony. It has such a dangerous reputation. I used the Black Pullet as printed by Non Equine University Press.

“And no. I had to try twice for the summons to work. Is that important?”

Urgently, I asked, “Did you clean everything up after the failed try, or did you re use the same pentacles?”

“I re used them. Getting everything right was a LOT of work.”

I chuckled. “I do know about that! Non Equine magic is way harder than just waiving a wand around!

“Thing is, I believe that your first summoning may have worked. That is why I was checking on what you did.”

“What! Nothing happened. That is why I tried a second time.”

“I do understand, Drawin. I was just clearing something up. I will let you get back to your lettering. Beautiful work, by the way.”

Now sure of what happened, I sauntered over to the door. I gave the ponies waiting there my best, fang filled grin. “I see that you noticed that until the show opens tomorrow, that this is a private residence. Vamponies here in Equestria need to be invited into homes. The succubus should be able to enter without a problem. That means that she is tied to you, ma'am.”

I covered up my glamored in fangs as I bowed to them. “My name is Grumpeter Goat. Grumpy for short. As you have likely already noticed, I am dead. Not a zombie or anything like that, but totally deceased. Let us retire over to that bench under the shade tree in the garden while we talk. If that talk goes well, I will invite you in myself.”

The vampony nodded. “That makes sense, sort of. My name is Jinni and this is Sassy to her friends. Not sure what sort of power real names have here, but for now, I am not taking the chance. Getting out of the sun is a good idea.”

As we seated ourselves comfortably out in the garden, Sassy ventured, “What do you want to talk about? I don't think that we have done anything wrong.”

I raised a hoof in agreement. “Not yet, you haven't. You have already noticed that this world runs on slightly different rules than where you came from. I saw you try to enter through that open door. I am sure that nopony saw it. That is a rule that is different from your home. You can freely enter any public space, the door of a store, for instance. Private homes, not without an invitation.

“Daylight leaves you no stronger than an ordinary pony. Night will let you be about twenty times that strong. It will increase your ability to control your prey as well.

Jinni nodded slowly, “We have noticed some of that. Why are you trying to help us?”

I curled a lip and my eyes slitted. “I don't like most ponies very much, at all.

“Now, you need to understand some basic rules. This world is well aware of vamponies. They have tried and true methods of hunting down and destroying supernatural beings. So, the best way to manage, is to not draw attention to yourselves by leaving a trail of dead, dying and wounded ponies behind. Use your talents at prey control to take only small amounts at any one time.

“Let them think that they had a pleasant interlude with you, except for Sassy, there. They will feel like they had a fun INTERLEWD with her.”

They both had the courtesy to wince at my pun.

Jinni offered, “We came here because we sort of felt drawn to this place. We aren't sure why. Do you know that, Grumpy?”

“As a matter of fact, Jinni, I do. You were summoned here by a spell strong enough to warp you both into ponies. I don't know what you looked like before and don't care. Your natures have been preserved. There is a connection between summoner and summoned and that is what brought you here. The pony that summoned you is inside that place. She was trying to cut a rival out of a lucrative book illustration contract. She has failed.”

Sassy paused to think carefully. “What should we do and why would you let us into that house?”

I grinned again. Gave them a great show of phony fangs. “As I pointed out, the path of safety lies in moderation. If you agree to it, I can let you in to play fanpony to our guilty party. You know, autographs and the whole nine yards. Her name is Drawin Pitcher. She is yellow with a green mane and tail. Because she summoned you, SHE can't keep you out of HER home or any private space of hers.

“She can do one thing for you that will make the rest worthwhile, unless you REALLY LIKE being ponies with unusual diets. She has the spell book and knows the spell that will send you back where you came from.”

Both responded at once, “WE DON'T!” Jinni added with a smile that showed her fangs, “It IS fun for a nice visit. Say, a week or two. Shall we go in?”

“I shall precede you, ladies, and introduce you to the nice young mare who invited you to this world.” Reaching the door, I stepped in and bowed, “Jinni and Sassy, would you please come in? The artist that you are looking for is over at that desk.”

Jinni's eyes were glued to KD. “That is a dragon!”

“No kidding. That is KD, the artist who Drawin was trying to muscle out of the contract.”

That got them both to focus. They squealed fairly quietly as they descended on Drawin Pitcher! “It's really her! Oh, Ms. Pitcher! It is so great to actually meet you!”

At first, she tried futilely to fend off the duo. I noticed that her really good calligraphy was now labeling all of KD's works, hanging on both sides of her panel. I realized that the two were interfering with Drawin Pitcher's signing something for Mr. Hazard of Haphazard House Publishing.

We found out what it was very quickly. Jinni squealed in delight, “Your first book of art! They will be the luckiest foals in the kingdom that get to color your drawings! Can I get a copy with your autograph on it?”

Drawin Pitcher looked like she was ready to sink through the floor with her face aflame.

I cheerfully leaned up against KD and questioned, “What do you think of Drawin's cheering section. They will be fanponying her for the next few weeks!”

KD watched with amusement. She offered, “You really did not get much for all of your trouble, Grumpy. If you wanted to, you could make a killing off the painting of Wind by the T82. Not only do the critics think that it is a great piece of fantasy realism, Wind has agreed to stay for the show and pose by the painting so ponies can see her genuine metal arm and sword. The show has not opened yet and there have been three bids. The last one was for over a thousand gold bits.”

I agreed, “Monetarily, this contract was a bust. At least I did not have to give out a refund. I am going to keep the picture. It is a better treasure to me than gold.”

KD chuckled, “Are you feeling all right? I thought that I just heard you say that something was worth more than gold!

“Drawin will be both taken care of by that contract and embarrassed to death. It is an open ended one to draw foal's coloring books. The money is really pretty good but even with her good work doing well at shows, she will always be remembered as the mare that draws those foal's books.

“Our contract is fulfilled, Grumpy. You will get the autographed Daring Do book when it is ready for distribution but before it hits the stores.”

~THE END~

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