hbkcross2

Esse, aut non esse?

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Fick Dich, ch. 11 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 11

Soon they stop walking, and at Carriedo's soft instructions—"Alright, chico, now up the stairs…there's a step, si, there you go…"—Ludwig is led up to what he assumes is the lanista's house. He hears a door being opened, takes a few more steps, and then the hood is lowered. He looks around; from what he can gather, he's standing in the living room of the large apartment. The floor is hardwood, the furniture modern and leather, the appliances top-notch—a widescreen TV stretches across one wall, looking out at a huge window that peers down upon the bustling city below. Beyond the living room is a kitchen, connected by a

Fick Dich, ch. 10 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 10

"Hola," the man greets, waving a hand amiably—the overhead lights catch on a silver ring he wears, and for a moment Ludwig is blinded, which only makes him jerk harder as he feels a hand on his neck. Not already— "Whoa, easy," the man chides gently, skin brushing Ludwig's own as he unties him from the ring in the wall. "I'm just untying you, chico. No reason to stress out." Ludwig would beg to differ, but at the moment his throat is constricted with anxiety. So he settles for watching warily as this new man reaches into the satchel, and Ludwig tenses as he starts to pull something out; what is it? A whip? Chains? Some humiliating

Fick Dich, ch. 9 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 9

The auction passes in a blur. Ludwig tries not to meet the eyes of the crowd as he stands there, painfully aware of the many strange gazes raking over his too-exposed body, seeing every fault or imperfection; he obeys the hands that touch him, lifting his chin, spreading his legs, flexing his arms. He hears the crowd murmur with interest, and feels himself grow sick. But it's only when he's turned away from the crowd, when he endures the hands that spread his shoulder muscles and knead his spine, that the numbers start. "Fifteen," one voice calls, and for a moment Ludwig feels the faintest hint of indignity—as much as he doesn't want

Fick Dich, ch. 8 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 8

It's not long before Gilbert leads Ludwig into the washroom, and it's just as bleak and bland as Ludwig knew it would be. It's a simple, empty room, with seven showerheads set into the farthest wall and a stack of towels beside the door; the floor is dark grey concrete, peppered every few feet with drain holes, and despite how desperately Ludwig searches he can see nothing that would serve as any sort of privacy barrier. So, at Gilbert's command, he reluctantly strips; he lets Gilbert push him under one of the showerheads, flinches as the cold spray is turned on. He takes the bar of soap offered him, starts to scrub himself down, savoring t

Fick Dich, ch. 7 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 7

Ludwig opens his mouth to reply, a question on his lips; but both men look over sharply as a new voice is heard. "Matthew! Here!" Matthew stiffens, staring at the door, where a new man stands; he has messy blonde hair, bright green eyes, eyebrows thick enough to be seen from clear across the arena. He snaps his fingers. "Matthew. Now." Matthew swallows, calls back timidly, "Yes, Lanista Kirkland." He stands, says quietly, "Bye, Ludwig. I hope you make it through okay. I'll see you again sometime…" Ludwig frowns, helping him gather the bag into his arms. "Bye, Matthew…thank you…" Matthew dips his head, cringing as his name

Fick Dich, ch. 6 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 6

For a breathless minute, Ludwig can do nothing but stare up at Lovino. Lovino holds his gaze, tawny eyes glittering with disgust, then looks up sharply—Ludwig's helmet prevents him from seeing where Lovino's eyes finally settle—and, after a moment, he removes the trident and steps away. Ludwig bolts upright, scrambling to untangle his limbs from the net, listening to the crowd above buzz loudly. He looks over in time to see Lovino unbuckling his shoulder guard, and pulls off his own helmet, relishing in the feeling of air on his face again. "Lovino," he calls, pushing himself up and hurrying over; Lovino doesn't look up from where

Fick Dich, ch. 5 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 5

Ludwig stares at the closed door, heart pounding in his chest; his mind races with all the new information pressed upon him so suddenly. Ivan, Lovino, Alfred…the one that looked so similar to Lovino, the man with soft violet eyes and a beaten face…who were those men? Why are they here? Ludwig looks down to the black bag in his hands; it's solid nylon, and he can't make heads or tails of what's inside. He suddenly remembers Lovino receiving an identical bag, and looks over at him for answers. His throat goes dry. Standing before him is Lovino, but he's changed. He's donned gleaming copper armor—an arm guard extends from his s

Fick Dich, ch. 4 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 4

Ludwig climbs into the black Porsche at Gilbert's command, glares sullenly out the window as the other man slides in as well; the V8 engine roars to life, and Ludwig watches as the grand house grows smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing behind a thick grove of pines when Gilbert turns onto the main road. Where are we going? Ludwig wants to ask—but his cheek still hurts, and his dignity is severely wounded, and the last thing he wants is to engage the cause of all that in pleasant conversation. So instead, he scowls, says, "If you don't get me something to eat soon, I'm going to pass out." Gilbert snorts in response, and crimson

Security by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Security

Rain is pounding, voices are screaming, and chaos reigns. The year is 1918. Prussia leans against the mud wall of the trench—it's one of hundreds, death traps, gravesites—as he reloads his rifle, fingers slipping on the rain-slicked metal and struggling to catch. It's not just the rain that has his grip fumbling, but exhaustion, stress, because he's been here, on this very battlefield, for the past six hours; six hours of blood and bone and bullets and death, and he's a war nation, yes, but— But this isn't the war Prussia knows. This war is…this war is not fighting, not strategy nor beauty, not men who challenge each ot

Fire and Gasoline by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fire and Gasoline

Dawn breaks on a rainy, cold Sunday morning. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez slowly opens his eyes, squints blearily in the darkness of the room he lies in; he shifts on the narrow twin bed, back already tense and nagging at him, and pauses as he feels his bare chest brush up against something firm and slightly warm. He looks down, trying to see what lies against him, trying to clear his head enough to recall the memories from last night. He inhales deeply in the beginnings of a yawn, and the faint minty scent that tickles his senses makes it all come crashing back. The party at Gin's house, to celebrate next month's graduation; the loud music and t

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Fick Dich, ch. 11 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 11

Fick Dich, ch. 10 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 10

Fick Dich, ch. 9 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 9

Fick Dich, ch. 8 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 8

Fick Dich, ch. 7 by hbkcross2, literature

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Fick Dich, ch. 7

Fick Dich, ch. 6 by hbkcross2, literature

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Fick Dich, ch. 6

Fick Dich, ch. 5 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 5

Fick Dich, ch. 4 by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fick Dich, ch. 4

Security by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Security

Fire and Gasoline by hbkcross2, literature

Literature

Fire and Gasoline

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APH-CLING CLANK THUNK SCRAPE by hbkcross2, visual art

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About hbkcross2

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Artist // Hobbyist // Varied

United States
Deviant for 15 years

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My Bio

'ello.
I'm a casual fanfiction author who writes for Hetalia, Naruto, Death Note, and occasionally Bleach. I like to draw canines and also have a habit of RP'ing too much.

Feel free to drop me a note or comment, I won't bite.

Favourite Visual Artist

My friend Krysta, also Unseen-Alice

Favourite Movies

Pirates, Balto, and Lion King. I <3 me some good Disney.

Favourite TV Shows

Family Guy, NCIS

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Sum 41, MCR, Hollywood Undead

Favourite Writers

E. A. Poe, Erin Hunter, Gary Paulson, and David Lubar

Favourite Games

Bioshock! I luff Big Daddies X3

Favourite Gaming Platform

PS2

Tools of the Trade

Notebook, MP3, and good pencils

Other Interests

People. And bones. And genes. <3

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hbkcross2

Nov 6, 2012

Meme

0 min read

Stolen from ~SinIxto (https://www.deviantart.com/sinixto) What is your current obsession? Hetalia; Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood What are you wearing now? White t-shirt that I got from the Rebel Run, jeans Do you nap a lot? Not as much as I should. Who was the last person you hugged? Uhm...:iconhardyfan101:? If you were a tree, what tree would you be? If I were a tree, I would be a rhododendron. What's for dinner? Chinese take-out. What was the last thing you bought? A head of lettuce and fat-free sour cream. What are you listening to right now? 'Queer' by Garbage. I can't decide if I like it or not. What is your favorite weather and why? Rain. Not stor

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hbkcross2

Aug 3, 2012

Updaaaaates~ (fina-fucking-lly)

0 min read

SO.. Uh, let's see, reason why Fick Dich hasn't been updated in forever... a) Going back to school b) Having just enough free time during the day to briefly fret about all the work I have tomorrow c) Problems in my left hand that make it a little less than unbearable to type However, do not fear, faithful and good watchers! Because I have a pretty little green notebook that just happens to contain chapters 8 and about a third of 9, and just because I love you all so much, I shall push through the pain and post. ...just as soon as I grab a muffin and tea from downstairs, because this is going to be a long night. <3 ~Cross

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hbkcross2

Jul 6, 2012

Dear America.

0 min read

Mr. Alfred Jones, kindly go visit a doctor. Fix whatever ailment you have plaguing your east coast. Because quite frankly, we are more than a little sick of losing our power and houses and being tossed around like rag dolls every week. Thank you.