#ludwigkoopa

Night had fallen over Bowser's Castle, and the lava outside glowed like fiery rivers beneath the black stone walls. Inside, the castle was quieter than usual.

King Bowser had finally finished a long day of ruling, training soldiers, and dealing with paperwork Kamek had shoved onto his desk.

He stretched his massive arms with a groan.

“Alright, that’s enough for today.”

Down the hall, his children were all getting ready for bed.

Bowser Jr. brushed his teeth while making silly faces in the mirror.

Ludwig von Koopa carefully folded his night clothes and made sure his hearing aid was safely placed beside his bed.

Lemmy Koopa bounced on his mattress three times before finally settling down.

Roy Koopa pretended he wasn’t tired at all.

Iggy Koopa nearly tripped over one of his inventions on the floor.

Wendy O. Koopa brushed her teeth while judging everyone else’s pajamas.

Morton Koopa Jr. helped little Larry tuck in his blanket.

Larry Koopa quietly whispered, “Goodnight.”

Soon, all the lights were out.

Then—

**BOOOOOOM!**

Thunder exploded across the sky.

Rain slammed against the castle windows.

Another flash of lightning filled the halls with white light.

**CRACK!**

Junior jolted upright in bed.

His little hands gripped his blanket.

Another rumble shook the windows.

“…Papa?”

His voice came out tiny.

Junior slipped out of bed, clutching his stuffed plushie, and padded down the dark hallway toward Bowser’s room. He hesitated at the door, then slowly pushed it open.

Creeeak.

Bowser stirred.

“…Hm?”

Junior stood in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Papa… can I sleep with you?”

Bowser immediately softened.

The king who terrified armies melted into a dad in seconds.

“C’mere, buddy.”

Junior climbed onto the bed, and Bowser lifted him with one arm like he weighed nothing.

“Aww, was thunder being mean to my little hatchling?” Bowser asked, voice warm and sleepy.

Junior buried his face in Bowser’s chest and nodded.

Bowser gently rubbed his shell.

“It’s alright, baby boy. Thunder’s loud, but it can’t hurt you in here. Papa’s got you.”

Junior relaxed.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Bowser tucked blankets around him.

“My sweet little prince is safe.”

Junior yawned.

Outside, thunder roared again.

But nearby, in their own rooms, the Koopalings were awake too.

Ludwig sat stiffly in bed, pretending the storm didn’t bother him.

Roy crossed his arms.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, though his tail twitched nervously.

Lemmy had pulled his blanket over his head.

Larry flinched at every boom.

Wendy hugged a pillow.

Morton stared at the ceiling.

Iggy tried to distract himself by counting seconds between lightning and thunder.

None of them wanted to move.

They were generals.

Soldiers.

Bowser’s children.

They weren’t babies.

Right?

Another thunderclap shook the castle.

**BOOM!**

Larry squeaked.

Lemmy whimpered.

Roy muttered, “Okay, maybe… maybe a little scary.”

Wendy sighed.

“I want Dad.”

Silence.

No one laughed.

Because they all felt the same.

Ludwig adjusted himself awkwardly.

“…It would be irrational to remain frightened alone,” he said.

Morton nodded.

“Morton thinks… Papa would not mind.”

Larry looked down.

“But… what if we’re acting childish?”

Iggy pushed up his glasses.

“Wanting comfort doesn’t make us babies.”

That settled it.

One by one, seven small Koopalings climbed out of bed.

They tiptoed through the hallway.

Tiny claws clicking softly on stone.

When they reached Bowser’s door, everyone froze.

Roy whispered, “You knock.”

Wendy whispered back, “No, you!”

Ludwig sighed and gently knocked.

Tap tap.

From inside came Bowser’s sleepy voice.

“Yeah?”

The door opened.

All seven stood there.

Small.

Nervous.

Quiet.

Bowser looked at them.

Then immediately understood.

Larry spoke first.

“…Can we… sleep with you too?”

He looked ashamed.

“We know it’s childish…”

Roy looked away.

“We’re soldiers. We shouldn’t be scared of thunder.”

Lemmy whispered, “But… we are.”

Bowser’s face softened so much it almost hurt.

He sat up.

“Hey.”

All eyes lifted to him.

“Come here.”

They hesitated.

Bowser opened his arms wider.

“I said come here, babies.”

Roy blinked.

“…Babies?”

Bowser snorted.

“Yep. My babies.”

Wendy sputtered.

“We’re twelve!”

“And?”

Bowser smiled.

“You can be brave generals tomorrow.”

He patted the bed.

“But tonight?”

His voice became warm and gentle.

“Tonight you’re just my little hatchlings.”

No one moved for half a second.

Then Larry ran first.

Morton followed.

Then Lemmy.

Then everyone else.

The bed became chaos.

Blankets.

Shells.

Pillows.

Tiny claws.

Complaints.

“Roy, move your elbow!”

“Lemmy stop bouncing!”

“Iggy your hair is in my face!”

Bowser chuckled and pulled all eight children closer.

Junior was curled against his chest.

Larry tucked under one arm.

Lemmy sprawled over his stomach.

Morton carefully curled near the foot of the bed.

Wendy claimed a pillow.

Roy tried to act cool despite cuddling close.

Iggy muttered sleepily.

Ludwig settled beside Bowser’s shoulder.

Thunder boomed again.

This time—

No one flinched.

Bowser slowly stroked shells, hair, and heads.

“There we go.”

His voice dropped into that soft fatherly tone only his children heard.

“My sweet little ones.”

He kissed Junior’s head.

“My tiny prince.”

He rubbed Larry’s shell.

“My shy baby.”

He scratched Lemmy’s head.

“My silly little clown.”

He squeezed Roy’s shoulder.

“My tough boy.”

He adjusted Iggy’s blanket.

“My genius hatchling.”

He tucked Wendy in.

“My princess.”

He patted Morton.

“My gentle giant.”

Finally, he rested a hand on Ludwig’s head.

“My clever firstborn.”

Ludwig’s eyes softened.

“…Danke, Papa.”

Bowser smiled.

“Anytime.”

Rain continued to fall.

Thunder rolled far away now.

Inside the warm bed, eight children slept safely around their father.

And Bowser, the mighty king of the Koopas, held every one of his children close.

No matter how strong they were.

No matter how old they got.

In his arms—

They would always be his babies.

The storm passed.

- Happy birthday to Koopalings

Today was the Koopalings’ birthday, and the castle was buzzing with excitement. Balloons floated lazily around the room, confetti stuck to everything—even the cake—and the punch had somehow spilled a little on the floor, making tiny rainbow puddles.

The Koopalings were trying really hard to act mature. Ludwig straightened his back like a tiny, serious prince. Lemmy tried to talk in full sentences without squeaking. Morton… well, Morton just nodded a lot and pretended he knew what “responsible behavior” was.

Bowser, watching from nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… they’re really forcing it, huh?” he muttered. He could see it in the stiff smiles, the careful steps, even the way Wendy tried to hold her party hat just right. It was… adorable.

Kamek clapped, oblivious. “Thank you, children! Your… professionalism is noted!”

When it was time for drinks, Kamek led them to his little lab corner. Two barrels waited: one pink, one green. “Special birthday drinks!” he announced. The Koopalings, eager and trusting, each grabbed a cup. But—oops—they picked the wrong ones. The green drink was no ordinary juice; it was a potion that turned them into literal five-year-olds.

At first, nothing seemed different… then, suddenly: squeaks. Tiny arms. Ballooning clothes. Lemmy immediately squealed and tried to jump onto Bowser’s tail, but it was slippery from punch. “D-Daddy!” he cried.

Bowser scooped them up, trying not to laugh as they wiggled and sneezed a little from the confetti stuck in their noses. Ludwig squirmed dramatically, knocking over a balloon. Morton tried to stand tall but ended up rolling sideways into a pile of streamers. Wendy attempted to hold herself seriously… and promptly fell onto the cake.

The party turned into utter chaos. Tiny Koopalings chased balloons, got punch on their faces, and squeaked happily while Bowser carried them around. They blew out the candles in a sticky, giggling mess of frosting and tiny fingers.

When the potion wore off, they stretched back to twelve, sticky hair and confetti still in place. Bowser shook his head, smiling. “See? It’s okay to be little sometimes.”

The Koopalings exchanged sly grins. Ludwig muttered, “We’ve been twelve for… forever. Do we ever age?”

Lemmy giggled, bouncing. “Who cares! This is way more fun!”

Finally, they all squealed in unison, clinging to Bowser:

“We’re Daddy’s little kids!”