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winterbanner · 4 years ago

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Mercy (Bruce Banner/OFC)

Summary: Bruce is upset after a mission goes awry. Can Catherine's words help him to see himself in the way that she does? Takes place six months after the first avengers film.

Tags: Angst, Emotional Hurt/ Comfort

Word Count: 2687

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rated PG-13

Pairing: Bruce Banner x OFC (Catherine King, former SHIELD agent gone rogue, now a member of the Avengers.) Her name is only mentioned twice, so just ignore it of you’re looking for a self-insert)

It wasn’t easy being an Avenger, but today felt especially taxing. The battle wasn’t necessarily harder than others, it was the civilians that made the experience all the more horrific. They were everywhere, scattered throughout the streets, sprinting in a panic to find cover, to save themselves from the cataclysmic destruction. We tried to direct them all to safety, and for the most part we were successful, but there were only seven of us and hundreds upon hundreds of them.

When it’s your job to save lives it becomes difficult to focus on the positives, to think about the ones you saved, to consider how many lives would have been lost if you were not present. It is impossible to celebrate a victory, when the dead bodies of innocent civilians, bloodied and lying under the rubble, products of a conflict in which you were involved, are imprinted in your mind. It haunts all of us, but perhaps no one more than Dr. Banner.

I saw it happen, a young couple, was attempting to run into a department store for cover. Hand in hand they attempted to dodge the flying debris, while avoiding the menacing robotic soldiers that flooded the streets.

Hulk was there, doing his duty smashingly, taking cars, and large chunks of metal, and throwing them at our adversaries, leaving them as nothing more than a pile of wires. The decision had been made to keep Hulk off the field as much as possible, for Bruce’s sake mostly, but also in the hopes of lessening the inevitable damage. There were times, however, when his strength was needed. For those occasions we taught him to avoid civilians, and the effort was made. Oftentimes you could find him gently careening around a group of huddled innocents, stepping between them and whatever destructive chaos we found ourselves faced with. This time however, he made a mistake, and when Hulk makes a mistake, the consequences can be gruesome.

He heaved a car, vaulting it over his head at a group of enemy soldiers, but in the midst of our enemies stood the young couple, and as the car came crashing down, they were crushed. The young woman was left barely alive, screaming for her partner, who could be found a few feet away, his head crushed under the fender. Her outcries of pain and grief echoed through the streets, and over the sounds of metal clanging and weapon blasting, piercing our ears, with guilt and shame.

It wasn’t Bruce’s fault. He had no control over what precautions the Hulk did or didn't take, but despite his genius, that concept was something he couldn’t seem to comprehend. Bruce can see what happens during the time he spends as the other guy, he can see the destruction and death, just as much as any of us can, the only difference is that he can’t choose to run away, to duck for cover, to defend rather than attack. He has no control.

It was getting late, our wounds had been tended to, and we were beginning to settle down for the night. For many of us that didn’t necessarily mean sleep, it meant going onto our prospective floors to process the day's events. I, however, wasn’t planning on heading up to my quarters just yet, I wanted to check in on Bruce. I knew for a fact he hadn’t eaten, and I could also guess the toll that the day’s events must’ve taken on his mental state.

As I stepped out of the sleek silver elevator, I could see Bruce out on his balcony, staring down at the destruction from hours before. It was cold outside, and he still hadn’t changed out of the ripped up clothes he scrounged up from the battlefield. His curls were still dirty and his hands were shaky as they clung to his opposing forearms, squeezing himself tightly. He had been crying, the evidence found in the redness of his eyes and the wetness of his cheeks. I grabbed a blanket that laid haphazardly on a nearby chair, and approached the terrace, food in hand.

“Hey,” I whispered, in an attempt not to startle him.

He jumped, before turning around to see who exactly the voice was coming from. When he saw that it was me, I saw the tension in his body release. “Hey Catherine,” he croaked. He was sitting on a patio sofa, staring out over the mangled concrete, flashing police lights and Stark Industry construction workers, that littered the streets of Manhattan.

I gently sat down next to him, before placing the steaming plate of pasta on the nearby coffee table. I took the blanket, and began to wrap it around his shoulders. He winced at my actions, afraid for me to touch him.

“It’s okay” I whispered, as I slowly placed a hand on his, in an attempt to show that I trusted him. I took the blanket and draped it over his broad shoulders before sitting back down again and turning my body towards his. It broke my heart to know that he was afraid to let me touch him, that he thought of himself to be that dangerous.

“Thank you.” he said, finally looking me in the eye.

I grabbed his hand and gave it a loving squeeze, a nonverbal you’re welcome.

He then turned his gaze back to the streets, his expression immediately hardening, holding within it a plethora of sorrowful emotion.

I looked over and saw that the plate of food had stopped steaming, growing colder from the chilly New York air.

“I brought you some pasta, Clint made it so it might taste like shit.” I joked gesturing the plate and fork towards him.

He smiled briefly at my comment. “You didn’t need to do that,'' he said. Before taking the serving of pasta. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here for that.”

Bruce always had a way of deflecting your kind gestures, of making himself feel like he didn’t deserve them. “You haven’t eaten in hours Bruce and even if you had, I still wanted to come up here and check on you anyway.”

He looked up at me, his brown eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you, really thank you.” he said before twisting some pasta onto the fork and bringing it to his mouth.

“And surprisingly it doesn’t taste like shit.” He joked causing me to chuckle.

We both sat and watched the policeman directing traffic as he ate, all within a state of silence. From an outside perspective Bruce wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but when you took the time to get to know him, it wasn’t long before you realized that the man could talk your ear off. When he was passionate or excited about something, he could talk for hours, patiently explaining every particle, and every computation. Watching his face light up when I would ask a question, or when he realized that I was understanding, had become an occurrence I adored. Tonight, however, he didn’t utter a word. Probably in the fear that he may break down in front of me.

He finished up his meal quickly, he must’ve been starving, before placing his empty plate down on the table, and looking back to the street. It was honestly nice to see the city being picked up, to remind ourselves that the damage done can be fixed. There are certain types of destruction, however, that cannot me mended.

Two EMTs approached a pile of rubble. We witnessed their struggling to retrieve something, and to our horror they emerged with the body of a woman. They checked her vitals, and by the looks of dismay, it became apparent to us that she was dead. The emergency workers retrieved a body bag, and gently zipped up her carcass, thus sealing her fate. My heart ached as I thought of her family. That innocent woman could have been a wife, a parent, a child. Now remembered as a life cut short, lost to those they loved forevermore. I felt the pang of guilt press down on my chest, my mind overcome with the thought that that we could’ve somehow prevented the gruesome scene sprawled out before my eyes.

I looked over to Bruce, his eyes wide as he gazed upon the tragic scene that lay before us. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, I swear he didn’t even blink. He felt as though he deserved to watch this scene, to wallow in the pain that he may have caused.The screams of that young woman probably still echoing in his mind. I reached over and put a hand on his back, before rubbing small circles.

“Bruce let’s go inside okay. We don’t have to watch this” I said softly, as I gently gripped his chin pulling his gaze away from the street below to look at me.

He nodded in agreement, more concerned for my well-being that his. We both stood up and walked back inside to his sitting area, my hand still resting softly on the curvature of his back, as we took our seats on his familiar sofa. I had spent many nights sitting in this same spot, whether that be drinking and laughing with him and Tony, or after a mission in a similar situation as this one, I felt at home here, with Bruce. There were even some mornings where I had accidentally fallen asleep on that very cushion, only to awaken and find myself perfectly tucked in, with the smell of maple pancakes wafting from the kitchen.

After watching what had just happened, Bruce was trying even harder to hold back his emotions. He sat there, his hands shaking as they clasped together, his head hung in shame staring at his feet, his eyes glistening with tears. I scooted closer to him, before wrapping an arm around his feeble frame, my thumb gently rubbing his shoulder. He leaned into my touch, his weight shifting so his body pressed into my side.

“What happened today wasn’t your fault.” I whispered, rubbing my hand up and down his back, in an attempt to bring him back to reality, away from whatever thoughts plagued his mind.

He pulled away, recoiling at the sound of my words that were telling him the exact opposite of what he had been telling himself. “I-I saw it happen, If I had just taken control, if I had just…”, he looked down once more, placing his head in his hands in an act of frustration. He wasn’t angry at me, he was angry at the Hulk for not being more careful, and mostly he was angry at himself. Angry that he couldn’t save them from the giant he was forcibly given the responsibility to manage.

I will never know what it is like to be plagued with something like the Hulk. The risk of danger and violence forever living just under the skin, unable to be fully contained or controlled. I will never know exactly what Bruce suffers through, but in this situation I unfortunately had some expertise.

I sighed, causing Bruce to look up from his sorrowful stance, as I adjusted my sitting position in the effort to make myself more comfortable.

“Ten years ago, I got a call from Fury telling me I was needed in Chicago for a negotiation. Some prick wanted access to SHIELDS weapon blueprints, in exchange for what I was told was “highly classified cargo”. I was instructed to give the contact false intel, it was risky, but nothing I wasn’t used to. “

“I had guessed that this special cargo would have been some sort of weapon, or at the worst maybe a high profile hostage, but when I arrived on location it turned out to be so much worse. These masked bastards had children, I’m talking little kids, lined up execution style. They looked so scared…”

At this point my breaths had become more shaky, causing me to take a moment to gather my senses. Bruce had scooted himself closer in an attempt to comfort me.

“I was so fucking pissed at Fury for not telling me, I just- I wasn’t prepared ya know?”

Bruce nodded and rested his hand on mine as if to let me know that I had his full attention.

“I proceeded with the negotiation, and at first it seemed like it had gone off without a hitch. My partner sweeped the place, and I was told that every child was safe and accounted for. Things, however, went to shit when he insisted the calculations on the blueprints were off. He pointed his gun at me, and without hesitation I blasted him. What I didn't see was the little boy who had been standing behind him.”

My eyes were now filled with tears, and my emotions made it so it was harder to speak.

“I- I killed him. He must’ve been hiding, and they didn’t count him. He was so scared, but there was nothing I could do. I-”

Bruce’s arm had now been gently wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me against his side.

“He was perfectly innocent. So, I guess that makes me a killer.” I whispered.

“No,” Bruce softly uttered. “Catherine, no you’re not-”

I pulled away from his grasp. “I should’ve looked closer, I should’ve double checked I-I”

“Stop, that wasn't your fault.”

I paused for a moment to regain my senses, before turning to look Bruce in the eye.

“Bruce, I killed that little boy, me myself and I. I was in control of my decision making, I did that. So, if that poor boy’s death wasn’t my fault, then how is what happened out there today your’s?”

“Catherine it’s not the same.”

“Your damn right it’s not the same. If anything, I'm at more fault than you are. I, Catherine King, am a killer.”

He looked at me saddened by the words I said, “Don’t associate yourself with that, you’re not that, not you. I’m the monster.”

I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look me directly in the eye. “Why can't you grant yourself the same mercy you’ve given me?” He looked down, at a loss for words.

“Bruce Banner, you are no killer, you are no monster. I know what evil looks like, and you aren’t it. Everyday I go out there and find myself met with the absolute worst shit that the world can offer. So, when I get back, I go see you. I go up to the lab, or come find you here because Bruce, you remind me that there’s still good left. You make me feel safe. I couldn’t feel that way about you if you were a monster.”

At first he sat there in awe, at a loss for words. The last few years of Bruce’s life had been ones of fear, isolation, and self-deprecation. His kind nature and mild-mannered disposition, met with violence, scorn and pain. He didn’t deserve to have gone through all that he did, but he didn’t realize that. His experiences were those fit for the monster that he and the world had so convinced himself he was. So, at the sound of my words, he began to tear up, not because of sadness or fear, but out of gratitude. Ever since the accident no one one had ever told Bruce that they felt safe in his presence. That they didn’t see him as a potential threat, a ticking time bomb.

After a moment, I noticed the look on his face grow soft, as he pulled me into an embrace. His chin resting on my head, as his arms wrapped around me. His hold was gentle, but all encompassing. It was as if he was afraid he’d hurt me if he squeezed too tight, but everything within him was telling him to never let go. I tightly hugged him back, carding my fingers through his hair, as I guided his head to rest in the curvature of my neck, all in the hopes of making him feel the truth behind my words, to make him feel human.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

And in that moment, with the two of us intertwined in the others embrace, we felt safe.

#bruce banner #bruce banner x ofc #bruce banner angst #bruce banner fanfiction #bruce banner needs a hug #SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A HUG #marvel oc #king chronicles

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

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Just Out Of Reach

My exams are finally over so have some touch-starved!Nagisa

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E

AO3 LINK

Shiota Nagisa was a loner. He always had been for as long as he could remember.

When he was in elementary school, he was the weird kid - the strange girl-boy that hardly talked and no one could understand. His male classmates thought that he was too girly to take part in their games or join their conversations and whilst his female classmates didn’t mind his appearance that much, they knew better than to associate with him lest they too fall victim to the taunts and sneers that followed him everywhere, or the relentless bullying that inconvenienced him every breaktime. However, he didn’t mind - friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford anyway (his mother didn’t approve of him spending time out of the apartment, away from her). He would have his own fun by sitting himself down in his school’s library and bury his head in a book, getting lost in worlds that weren’t mean, or cold, or judgemental. Or he’d sit on a bench in the school playground, homemade lunch in hand, and observe his peers hug and high five and laugh together, whilst ignoring the strange pang of something that would curl in his stomach, wanting more than ever for something he could never have.

Even during his first year of Junior High, when he met the red haired genius of a delinquent called Karma, he didn’t let himself indulge in what normal friends would do. Sure, he felt comfortable around the first friend he’d ever had (though the unnatural comfort was often overshadowed by the awe and admiration that he was allowed in the company of someone as brilliant as Akabane Karma) but Karma had his own walls, his own issues and lack of trust, so there was always that unspoken distance between them, that slight tenseness that lingered between every (very) rare arm that was slung over his shoulder. Though they walked side by side, it was never hand in hand. Though they spent every free minute together there were never any fist bumps or high fives or hugs (Nagisa wondered if Karma even knew what hugs were). Karma kept to himself and so did he - they both had boundaries that the other respected.

Until, Karma left. And he was alone again.

And as much as he said that he didn’t mind it - as much as he told himself that he was used to it ever since he woke up that one day and his father was nowhere to be found, the shouts and screams of his parents having their nth argument ringing in his ears even though his house was pitch quiet for once - it hurt. So when he was sent to E-Class with his head hung low and the voices of his former classes whispering their disgust trailing after him, he looked at the grenade in his hand and knew that he had nothing left to lose.

(So why did Koro-Sensei save him? And why did it feel so good? )

(And why did that mucus-like membrane shrouding him make his chest heat up with a feeling he’s never felt before?)

It was during their lunch break when it happened.

Nagisa was sitting by cross-legged at the base of a tree, reading an article about an upcoming superhero flick, whilst a group of his classmates were throwing, hitting and bouncing a ball in a game that Yada had called ‘don’t let the ball touch the ground’ but Kimura dubbed ‘the floor is lava for the ball and not us’ (he’ll let the jury decide which title was better) when he heard some rustling above him followed by groans.

“Okajima,” Maehara whined, “you hit it too high.”

“I’m sorry okay,” Okajima said, “I didn’t mean to get it stuck in some branch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yada smiled at him, “I’m sure that we can get it down if we stand on each others shoulders or something.”

“I don’t know,” Kataoka frowned. She looked up, making sure to cover her eyes from the sun, at the cursed branch, “it’s pretty high up. It’s safer for us to go and get a ladder.”

“No need,” Nagisa said. Unbeknownst to them, the moment Nagisa had gotten whiff of what had happened, he jumped up and, as silent as a serpent, leaped nimbly from branch to branch until he reached the one with the ball. He carefully plucked it from where it was nestled in a groove before making his way back down again, all just before Kataoka spoke. He threw it into her hands.

“What the- how the hell did you even do that?” Maehara’s jaw was dropped, frantically looking between the ball and the branch it was (he swore) a second ago.

“How did no one even see him?” Okajima whispered.

“Thank you, Nagisa,” Kurahashi beamed with the intensity of a thousand suns and threw her arms around him in one of her famous bear hugs, laughing in that usual bubbly way she always does. Nagisa freezes mid-flinch, almost petrified at the sudden contact. An unfamiliar warmth starts to spread across his chest. It was nice and almost comforting, drowning him with bright yellows and gentle goldens - making him feel like he was special. It took everything in him to not melt into it, a keening noise stuck at the base of his throat.

When his mother touches him, he feels the sharp talons of her nails digging into his skin. When she pecks his cheek or forehead, he has to stop himself from wincing at the way cyanide seems to burn him where her lips leave. In all honesty, he’d rather the sharp slaps and objects flying at him, at least those forms of pain where only physical and didn’t leave a confusing sense of dichotomy where his emotions that craved for the positive contact to linger battled where his fight-or-flight survival instincts screamed at him to scrub every single atom of her off of him. Touch was something he could neither afford nor understand.

If he wanted warmth, he’d wrap himself up in scarves and throw on soft jumpers; if he wanted to feel safe, he’d make sure to do everything he can to not trigger his mother into another eruption; if he wanted contact then he’d find his old plushies buried deep in the confines of his closet and embrace them in hopes that it would be enough. For him, the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling that void in his chest was when words of affirmation would wash over him (it’s no secret to anyone that compliments can render him unable to function)(but can you blame him when compliments to him are as rare as painite?).

When Kurahashi let go of him to go regale Yada with stories from a nature documentary she watched the night prior, he’s still stock still, dumbstruck, from that momentary embrace. He wanted her to come back so that he could feel it again. He wanted to feel her arms around his body like a safe little cocoon. He wanted to submit to that sunshine-like comfort and never get out of it. He craved that warmth so much it hurt him - why did it hurt so much?

It made him feel so wanted . And lov-

Is this why people hold hands all the time?

Later that night, he crushed one of his stuffed animals against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his body. He wondered why his pillowcase had wet stains on it when he woke up the next day.

(He ignored the answer that gnawed him at the back of his mind)

The second time he felt it was during a ‘completely necessary class bonding sleepover extravaganza’ (as Fuwa had put it) at the Nakamura household. With the blonde’s parents out of the country to visit her older brother, she had her entire house to herself - a house that was miraculously large enough to house twenty-seven teenage assassins in training (as well the phones that contained ‘Mobile Ritsu’).

“I still don’t understand why we can’t watch anime,” Fuwa pouted from her position on the kitchen island, her One-Piece-themed-socks-clad feet kicking up and down as she took another spoonful from the bowl of snickerdoodle cookie dough she had nicked from Hara and swallowed it, “it’s practically a staple for every good sleepover.”

“Because, Fuwa,” Nakamura drawled in reply, her own hands busy pouring popcorn into bowls, “none of us want to see you go full otaku during our relaxing evening.”

“It’s nothing against you Fuwa,” Nagisa had cut in quickly, having had made eye-contact with Isogai and Hara as the three of them were washing and drying the baking equipment they were using (“‘You know we have a dishwasher right?” Nakamura had called in amusement) and their combined parental instincts had deemed it necessary to extinguish anything that could potentially start something (and knowing this class, mountains can be made out of molehills as quickly as Koro-Sensei can fly from continent to continent), “it’s just that we think it might be a good idea to have more variety tonight. Next time we have a class movie night, you can choose anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to that, Shiota,” Fuwa pointed her spoon at him with narrowed eyes before sliding herself off the table and sauntering off towards the living room.

“She’s not going to get sick, eating all of that raw cookie dough, is she?” Nakamura asked, staring at the doorway.

Hara smiled at her, “don’t worry, we made the dough edible.” She gave Nagisa a head pat with a slightly soapy hand, “you can finish with that bowl you’re drying and help me bring these trays to the living room, ‘kay Nagisa?”

Nagisa nodded bashfully, trying to hide the redness that blossomed over his cheeks in reaction to Hara’s hand making contact with his scalp.

"What do you mean 'we should watch a horror movie'?" Isogai asked his friend.

"Exactly that class prez," Maehara grinned at the brunette, "you can't have a sleepover without a few screams."

"Nor can you have one without anime but here we are," Fuwa grumbled to herself.

"But what if people get scared?" Isogai asked, as always being the Ikeman he is and thinking about others. Bless him.

"That's the point," Nakamura chirped, "it's the perfect bonding exercise. Nothing can bring together a group of rag-tag misfits like fear."

"But-"

"Don't worry," Nakamura said, "we have Karma and Hazama with us. I can assure that whatever we see on the television will be nowhere nearly as scary as them."

"True that," the class sighed as the two students in question gave eerie, self-satisfied smirks.

"Not to mention that we're all assassins in training," Okano said, "no evil spirit or crazy murderer would stand a chance against us."

"And if they do, we can just sacrifice Terasaka to them," Hazama piped up, not even looking up from her book.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Yeah, Hazama," Karma smirked, "as if they would even want him."

"OI AKABANE, WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!"

"Hey, Nagisa," Kayano turned to her friend as Karma stuck his tongue out at Terasaka, "what kind of horror movies do you like?"

“I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, idly tracing the outlines of the cartoon sushi pieces that patterned his pyjama bottoms, “I’ve never watched any horror movies so I wouldn’t know what is good.”

Maehara grinned at them from under the hood of his Pikachu onesie, “Then have no fear, Nagisa. As a movie connoisseur-”

“I thought that title was reserved for me?” Mimura raised his hand with an arched eyebrow.

“-I would be more than happy to educate you, my young padawan-”

“-I’m pretty sure he’s older than you,” Okano pointed out.

“On the art of Horror Movie Binge-athons,” Maehara declared, ignoring the interruptions and pointing at the blunette in a very Fuwa-esque way.

So that was how Nagisa found himself on one of the couches, two scream-fests later, sandwiched between Karma and Sugino, watching the end credits of The Ring. From his perch, he watched in interest at the horror-struck faces of his classmates below.

“Dude,” Kimura breathed out in fear when the screen turned black, a shaky hand attempting to comfort a very visibly distressed Okajima, who had the athlete in a bone-crushing hug from behind as he hid behind him, “I am never going to answer a phone again.”

After a full ten seconds of silence, the smartphone that was lying in front of him lit up, and the Sonic theme song ‘Gotta Go Fast’ cut through the air like a knife. Kimura jumped about a foot in the air, screaming, whilst the others around him did the same. Muramatsu and Yoshida, clung tighter onto Hazama, yelling about how they were too young to die whilst Okajima and Okano began praying to the gods.

“Karma, stop it,” Nagisa sighed without even looking at the redhead next to him. When Karma smirked and ended the call on his phone, thus terminating the ringing, he turned and raised an unamused eyebrow at a snickering Nakamura who was filming the entire scene on her own phone. The blonde winked at him and raised a peace sign.

“I know what we should watch next,” Yoshida said after a while and took the remote. He began to scroll through the movie suggestions on the screen, “Coraline.”

“Isn’t ‘Coraline’ a kids’ movie?” Kataoka furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the cartoonish movie poster on the television.

Coraline was not a kids’ movie. It was a horrific abomination of nightmare fuel dolled up with pretty colours and a talking cat. At least with the other films they had watched that night, he was able to stand - jump scares don’t really work on someone that’s constantly on edge and no CGI generated creature of the supernatural could terrify him as the very real harpy that he shares a roof with. At most he stiffens up or just trains his eyes onto the kernels of popcorn that get sent flying whenever Okajima gets particularly frightened. He usually just tries to deconstruct the story from a logical standpoint, making sure to point out to himself the plot-holes to enhance the fact that it’s nothing more than fiction (instead of making these comments out loud like Sugaya and end up having a brigade of throw pillows assaulted onto him). However watching The Other Mother, who spoke with a honey-sweet tone but had that distinct aura of ‘threat threat threat’ made him feel more chills than watching the disfigured Samara Morgan crawl out of a television and murder people and whilst the revelation of her true colours weren’t completely unpredictable, it didn’t and the fear and acid crawling up his stomach.

‘You may come out... when you've learned to be a loving daughter!’

‘How dare you disobey your mother!’

It was after watching that vile woman drag Coraline into that dark chamber and locking her inside it when he couldn’t take it. His frozen facade and almost petrified posture just broke. He lurched, fumbling for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up so that he could cover his head and buried himself under it. With his knees drawn up under the covers, he focused on controlling his breathing and trying to steady his shaking hands and starting-to-blur eyes in an attempt to push away the unpleasant flashbacks hissing around in his head like a viper. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt a hand gently circle his wrist. He tensed, heart rate speeding up in a panic, before his skin registered the familiar feel of polyester - the material of Sugino’s red sweatbands (wait, does he even wear them to sleep? ). When he had physically relaxed, the- Sugino’s hand slowly and carefully - giving him ample time to pull away - moved his own and away from his legs and then interlocked his fingers between his. The skin on skin contact at the base of his fingers had caused the same warmth he had felt with Kurahashi spreading across his entire arm, stopping at his chest and swirling around like a mixture of comfort and elation, like he had just drank a cup of steaming milk tea. He steadily curled his own fingers downwards, letting the tips press down against the baseball-lover’s knuckles. The only response he got was a tight squeeze in return - not hard enough to sting but still grounding in a sense.

Okay.

He was okay, he can do this.

It was during the climax of the film, when Coraline confronts that button-for-eyes-wearing she-devil, when Nagisa abandoned all inhibitions and pulled on the hand intertwined with his own, simultaneously pulling Sugino down and bringing himself up so that he could wrap his arms around the black-haired boy. His uncharacteristic actions even shocked himself but all of his usual anxiety’s of forcing his problems on others were pushed back by the voice in his head saying ‘safe safe safe get closer closer ’. With his eyes squeezed shut so tight they almost hurt, he felt something wet roll down his cheek and so he tightened the hold he had on his best friend. Sugino reciprocated, one of his own hands gently cupping the back of his head, fingers burying past silken blue hair, so that he could very lightly bring the other’s face closer and tuck it underneath his chin. Now normally, Nagisa would have combusted with embarrassment at being so close to another student, especially in such a public setting like this, but right now he felt like nothing more than some primal urge begging him to soak in as much of that embrace as possible. To be selfish for once and just stay as close as he can even if it means he dies there. To let himself be vulnerable for a change. The movie, those memories they all washed away and he felt nothing but safe….

The next morning he woke up with his head on someone’s shoulder, a fluffy blanket raised upto his chin. He blinked the haziness out of his eyes to find himself in front of inky locks.

“You alright there, Nagisa?” Sugino looked at him with a smile. Oh he was already up. That’s new.

Nagisa’s eyes widened, his face erupting with redness as the events of the previous night replayed in his inner-theatre like those epic fail compilations Karma likes to laugh at. He jumped back to the other end of the couch, as far away from Sugino as possible.

“Oh god, Sugino, I am so sorry,” Nagisa whispered as loudly as he could without waking up his still snoozing classmates, “what happened last night was so weird and I put you in such an awkward position and I’m super sorry I swear that will never happen again and you must’ve been so embarrassed honestly you should've just pushed me off when I fell asleep I really wouldn’t have minded this was so weird and-”

“Nagisa, chill,” Sugino moved closer and placed a hand on the rambling boy’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with slight amusement, “it’s cool. It’s normal for people to get scared during horror movies - it’s kind of the reason why they were made, you know. Besides if you looked really distressed and if I couldn’t do anything to help you then why are we even friends.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts,” Sugino cut in, “you’re always ready to help others so don’t be surprised to find otu that others want to help you.”

Nagisa sighed. He looked up at the other boy with a slight blush, “well, um, thank you. For that. It was really nice of you.”

Sugino’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and he felt that familiar thrill shoot down his arm as the taller smiled, “no problem, Nagisa.”

(“Next time we decide to do a bonding activity,” Fuwa says during breakfast as she’s munching through a honey dripping pancake, “we should all go camping.”

Collectively the class shuddered, their minds being filled with visions of Fuwa holding up a chainsaw on full speed and running around like a mad woman, of fire enveloping a forest and demolishing a once peaceful campsite and dark grey mushroom clouds puffing out like an ashy eruption, “no thank you.”)

For some reason he finds himself in these sort of situations more and more. Like when he feels himself clinging closer to Okano when she bridal carries him up the mountain after he had injured his leg during a training exercise (which is interesting because normally being in such an unmasculine position would make his insecurities flare up like crazy); or when his arms tighten around Karma so much that it feels like their bodies are going to fuse together when the red head piggy-back carries him during a race; or when he just sighs in contentment when Maehara slings him over his shoulder instead of flailing around like he usually would when the brown-eyed boy declared that he was studying too hard and ‘offered’ to take him karaoke singing with everyone else.

In the back of his mind, he feels like the amount of affectionate touches he receives have almost quadrupled in size - there hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t gotten either a head pat, friendly noogie or side hug. There was even a tickling incident that led to his male classmates dogpiling him (because in 3-E the A in PDA can also mean aggression).

No one comments on it though.

It’s almost like Irina-Sensei’s comment about the students of 3-E having ‘some creepy hive mind’ is actually true.

(That comment actually lead to the class planning via group chat to speak in monotonic unison in front of her for an entire half an hour just to mess with her. It worked.)

“I still don’t understand why you people like drinking this leaf juice,” Fuwa scrunched her nose at the ceramic cup in her hand. Due to the pleasant weather, Kanzaki, Kayano and Okuda decided to have a tea party and Nagisa being the tea lover that he was was more than happy to accept their invitation.

“Hey,” Kayano glared at her, making a shooing gesture with one of her hands, “Group four only.”

“Kayano,” Nagisa said firmly, “she can stay if she wants.”

“But she’s disrespecting the tea.”

Nagisa shook his head and sighed whilst Kanzaki giggled into her cup.

“Listen Fuwa,” Kayano rounded on the female otaku, “whilst I stand by the statement that pudding is the closest thing to perfection humanity has ever created and I would sell this entire class for a lifetime supply of pudding cups without a second thought (“Say what now?” Nagisa backtracked), a cup of nice warm tea can truly heal your soul. It’s science.”

“That is true,” Okuda piped up, gently pushing her glasses up, “a cup of hot anything in your hands mimics human warmth which is said to have calming properties. So it basically means that warm drinks can mimic the need for human care and touch.”

‘ Well ,’ Nagisa blinked, thinking back to the mountain of tea bags that reside in his bedroom’s dustbin, ‘ that explains a lot. ’

“So if you guys ever feel too single,” Fuwa laughed and gave them double finger guns, “you know what to do.”

Whilst the rest of his company gave responding giggles, Nagisa felt a tug on his elbow and let it go limp to allow the greenette sitting next to him to tug it downwards. When he felt her link her pinky with his he turned to look at her to see a sunny beam directed straight at him.

And he smiles back.

Because he’s not alone anymore.

#assassination classroom #My writing

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ranger-report · 4 years ago

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Thoughts On: HEXEN: BEYOND HERETIC

In 1995, less than a year after the release of Heretic (which I talked about here), Raven Software unleashed a masterpiece upon the first person shooter landscape. Titled Hexen: Beyond Heretic, the game featured radical new features for the id tech 1 engine, including scripted events (such as monster falling through the ceiling to ambush the player), hub level design, CD music, and moving walls. But what it really brought to the table was an unrelenting difficulty and obtuse puzzle system revolving around the discovery of multiple switches throughout a central hub to open the path to the next world. Combined with a pseudo-RPG character class feature, beautiful sprite work, and a rich atmosphere to explore, Hexen introduced concepts and mechanics that influence FPS games to this day, overshadowed only by the release of Quake the following year.

YouTuber GmanLives produced a video on Hexen calling it, “The Dark Souls of FPS Games,” and that's really not far off the mark. Hexen is oppressive. It's brutal. It's actively trying to prevent the player from achieving their goal of beating the game. While the previous entry in the series, Heretic, offered a fast-paced shoot-em-up blitzkrieg, this game operated with a more measured approach. Methodical pacing, resource management, and the utilization of each class's weapons are key to moving forward. Hidden doors and paths and switches, sometimes activated with the use key and sometimes by firing a weapon at them, permeate the levels to the point where half the game can be spent clicking or shooting at random walls just to see what's going to open up when – or if at all. Most games would tuck away secrets by this method, but Hexen, oh no. Hexen offers little rewards aside from survival, and it's glorious. It's harder than shit, but it's glorious.

Opening up the game, players are given three options to choose from: Baratus the fighter, Parias the cleric, or Daedolon the mage. Each class has their ups and downs; for example, the fighter is a beefy fucker who has high hit points and damage, but weak magic, leading to a mostly melee combat style if you run out of mana. The mage is the opposite, low hit points but high magic damage, with some gorgeously rendered spells that beautifully highlight the detail that id tech 1 was capable of. And the cleric is a mixed bag, balanced between the two, with a woefully weak melee weapon and decent ranged magic weapons, but he also carries the single best weapon in the entire game: the Wraithverge, a crucifix that shoots out Arc of the Covenant ghosts that scream and eviscerate anything on the screen in a glorious display of carnage. Clear out a room in seconds with two well placed shot. Arguable, the Wraithverge should be right up next to the BFG 9000 as one of the most ridiculously overpowered weapons in any game – maybe even higher. But the Wraithverge is an Ultimate Weapon, and each class has an Ultimate Weapon, which needs to be assembled over the course of the game by finding the pieces of it tucked away in hidden corners of the levels. Depending on your vigilance, you might find the pieces sooner vs later, and the rewards for this are plentiful. However, unlike the prior game, this game doesn't use unique ammo type for each weapon; that would be too easy. This time around, weapons require mana to use, coming in two different flavors, blue and green. Each class works as such: weak melee weapon that needs no mana, a slightly stronger weapon that uses blue mana, a much stronger weapon that uses green mana, and the Ultimate Weapon which uses both. With the fighter, all of his weapons can be used as melee if he runs out of mana, but if he has the stock, they take on ranged properties. The mage has a starting weapon that requires no mana, but it still ranged. Meanwhile, the cleric maintains the balance with his solo melee weapon, and the rest are ranged. What's notable about the differences in the classes is that it's not just limited to weapon usage, but also inventory usage. Different classes will garner different amounts of armor points depending on their “familiarity” with how to use armor. There's an item called a fletchette that varies in use depending on the class; for example, the fighter throws the fletchette like a bomb, where the cleric drops it in place and it explodes into a cloud of poison. New players will have the opportunity to briefly look over the classes at the beginning as the opening screen displays stats such as speed, armor, magic, and strength, all of which seem a little arbitrary since they don't explicitly state what they do or how they affect the game up front. At the same time, each class is going to lean towards a bit more difficulty, seeing as how the tanky fighter is going to make bruting through the game a lot easier than the tissue paper mage. First time players would do wise to pick the fighter or the cleric as their first timer, saving the mage for a later playthrough, unless you're a masochist when it comes to the games that you play.

One of the great distinctions about Hexen as compared to Heretic is that the former feels more like a fully realized game world vs the cool fanfic/DOOM clone of the latter. Director and designer Brian Raffel no doubt had a hardon for dark fantasy substance, having worked on Raven's previous two fantasy games, and with the release of DOOM thought, “You know, we can do something with that.” Didn't hurt that id Software was just a block down the street from their offices around that time (true story!) and John Romero, AKA Rock God of Gaming, worked directly with Raven during development so they could make the most of id tech 1. Taking what they knew after Heretic, hungry to dive in further, Hexen feels like a natural expansion of the concepts introduced in the first game: weary travelers journeying through worlds and dimensions to combat an ancient evil using magic and steel. It's great stuff, leaning even harder on the 80's horror fantasy art aesthetic. The game is oozing with deeply detailed monsters and environments, even more refined than the very good work done on Heretic. Translucent objects, fog, breakable terrain, each hub and level are intimately crafted to feel like it's a living, breathing world, not just something you've decided to boot up on your 486 PC. Ranging from traditionally gothic architecture with stained glass and parapets, to jungley swamps, arid canyons, and moldy sewers. And as mentioned before, it's brutally oppressive, absolutely unwelcoming in design. Even the environment doesn't want your presence here. Sometimes it doesn't even want the other monsters around; if you're lucky, you can get creatures to turn on each other by creeping into a new area, and if you can go unnoticed before their attack animations kick in, monster castes will infight with one another, saving you precious mana in the process. It doesn't always work, but when it does, it's a fun little sight to behold your meddling.

The sound effects are truly phenomenal, a game worth wearing headphones for. Composer Kevin Schilder returns for the soundtrack, and while his work on Heretic was suitable, here he knocks it completely out of the park. Ominous, brooding, energetic but not too up tempo, it's perfect dungeon crawling music that creeps up your spine at the same time. Meanwhile the distinct creature sounds echo and crawl around corners, letting you know what is where, and also what to be afraid of. I can still hear the sounds of the Dark Bishop in the back of my head, letting me know that I need to turn tail and put some distance between me and them. Enemy design is even better this time around: the aforementioned Dark Bishops take the role of the previous game's Disciples of D'Sparil, teleporting and blasting you with dark magic from their hooded, faceless bodies. Ettins are double-headed warrior beasts that carry a spiked mace, and are the most prevalent monster class in the game – and while they might be everywhere, they pack a helluva wallop, meaning you don't underestimate them no matter how many times you've killed one. Meanwhile, the Centaurs and Slaughtaurs are horrible little shits. Just like the tag says, they're centaurs with full-face helmets, swords, and spiked shields. They can raise their shield to deflect any incoming attacks and reflect them back at you, which is infuriating, especially since the Slaughtaur can fire deadly green magic at you while holding up their shields. And since they look the same, you have to approach any of them with intense caution, otherwise you're staring down the face of death while waiting to make your next strike.

Puzzles operate primarily on a “find the key/switch” platform, but rather than tracking down everything necessary to proceed in a single level, Hexen challenges the player to locate and operate everything they need to move forward throughout a spread of areas around the hub. For example, the Swamp Key won't be directly located in the swamp itself, but maybe over in the Forest. Multiple switches necessary to unlocking the Final Door in the central hub are located in the various hub worlds, informing the player with a quick “You have solved 1/3 of the puzzle” text across the screen when you've found one. Find another switch, the number increases from 1/3 to 2/3, etc. But each hub has more switches, all the way up to nine switches necessary to journey on, which to some is going to be a slog. While frustrating at times, I never felt like I was wading through a switch hunt just to proceed. Each switch seemed to naturally pop up on its own, and once I realized that certain areas couldn't be accessed within the levels themselves, I'd hop around the various worlds in the hub until I found a new switch or key, and then went back. Imagine if Super Mario 64's paintings were all connected to each other, and you had to hop back and forth between them in order to get to the next floor of the castle. It's innovative, and certainly makes sense; if an evil overlord tyrant person were going to hide the keys to access their lair, they probably would spread them out to make it harder to find. It's gratifying to open up section after section of these levels, defying the odds and slaying your way through the puzzles. Adding to the depth of torment is that, unlike Heretic, clearing a room of monsters doesn't mean it will stay that way. Scripted sequences again have monsters teleport in when you least expect it, repopulating areas you thought were safe for the time being. Damning though that may be, it adds to the feeling like the player is being watched at every moment, and that the game is doing its level best to fight back against your progress.

Hexen is hard. I resorted to a walkthrough once, just like in Heretic, and absolutely utilized the minimap in order to suss out where switches were located. There is nothing here to suggest a walk in the park: it is labyrinthine, it is torrid, it is nightmarish. But the mechanics all come together in the end, particularly in the moments where the game gratifyingly presents a room full of mana and health and a lot of monsters to let loose on. These apeshit moments are some of the best in the game. After spending hours managing resources and trying to hoard as much mana and health as possible, to be allowed a moment of pure rip and tear is wonderful.

If you're going to play Hexen, I highly recommend getting the expansion, Deathkings of the Dark Citadel. Not only is the title metal as fuck, but the three new hubs it offers are even more vicious, demeaning, and frustrating. They shove all the elements of the previous five hubs down into three, and it shows. You'll be assaulted on all fronts right from the start, continuing where the final battle left off in Hexen. You still get to pick your class, but sadly, you're also starting over. Curiously depowered and without any inventory items to work with, you'll feel extra squishy for the first level or three. Honestly, Deathkings was where I felt I had the most pure Hexen experience: solidly brutal and unforgiving as fuck. Interestingly, Deathkings was released in 1996 around the same time that Heretic got a retail release with two additional episodes under the name Heretic: Shadow of the Serpent Riders. Factor this in with the upcoming release of Hexen II in 1997 (which saw a hefty difficulty spike as well), it seems that Raven got in one last hurrah with id tech 1 before moving on to id tech 2 -- the Quake engine. But more on that game in another post.

As with Heretic, I recommend playing this one through GZDOOM in order to get the best experience. And you'll need the best experience to stay one step ahead of everything that's trying to kill you. In a nutshell, Hexen is a true masterclass of determination to see the day through. For fans of retro FPS games, it's a must play, but be warned that coming into this after Heretic there is a distinct shift in how the game plays, looks, feels. Gone is the run and gun, which exists now only in pockets. But what's here, crafted lovingly and passionately, is a true nightmare of agony and difficulty unlike anything made before it. As Gmanlives summed it up, perhaps Dark Souls should be called the Hexen of third person adventure games.

Next time, we'll take a look at Hexen II, a popular but vastly different title in the series, and how the changes it made not only distinguished it from the previous two games, but may have also set it slightly backwards as well.

#hexen #raven software #id software #doom #heretic #first person shooter #dark souls #roses and ruins #ck burch #thoughts on #ranger report

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egotuberwriting · 5 years ago

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Long Live the King

*Walks in with a smoothie* Yo. I finally have another fic after being gone forever. And of course it deals with angst ;D

Bless @sidespromptblog for coming up with the prompt that inspired me to write again, and I’m just gonna casually tag @starwarsdestroyedme and @ky-likes-sanders-sides because I saw their expanded ideas in the notes and decided to use those in here too! Because more angst is the best!

I’m gonna be basing King Creativity’s, Mars, outfit from these pics

Tw: Getting sliced in half; though it’s not graphic I don’t wanna risk anyone getting uncomfortable when getting to the part. If I need to add something, let me know.

Free Cookies to anyone who gets why I named King Creativity ‘Mars’

Wordcount: 1832

Things were not looking good in Patton’s eyes.

With Thomas now a teenager and the horrifying thing that is puberty starting to kick in at full force, the Mindscape was a mess.

Logan was swamped with work. While he did enjoy learning everything Thomas learned in school, he struggled to ensure Thomas kept the dang knowledge in his long term memory. He was also in a losing battle with him to make sure he ate healthy and went to sleep at a reasonable hour, though Patton would take the blame on that one since he just wants Thomas to have as much fun as he can and eat all the yummy treats he can too.

And then Anxiety fully made himself known. Sure he was always around, but now he practically took over the driver's seat and is steering the poor boy down an angsty path. Sure, this is the time where Thomas is supposed to discover who he is, but it doesn’t have to be like this! Thank goodness Patton knows how to steer Thomas onto a ‘better’ path, even if for a little while.

Patton isn’t even gonna think about what Deceit will be capable of later on in Thomas’s life. Although he does wonder if that snake is the reason Anxiety is the way he is… And then starts to wonder if Deceit’s influence over Anxiety is the reason his friend started changing for the worst.

The King of Creativity, or Mars, was noticeably getting more and more disturbing, to say the least. While he of course continued to create the loveable fantasy ideas that he was supposed to be known for, he had started to make very crude jokes and began to delve into dark humor. And to top it all off, he started to go a bit insane and took an interest to more ‘physical humor,’ to put it lightly. Patton gags every time he thinks about the last ‘joke’ Mars showed him.

Patton had asked Logan if he noticed these changes in their friend, and while Logan did notice, he only said that this is just a normal phase that will pass. When asked how long it would take to pass, Logan couldn’t give Patton a straight answer since it could be a few years at best, if that.

That, however, was not the answer Patton wanted to hear.

It’s been roughly a year since Mars started falling down the rabbit hole of ‘impureness,’ and Patton have had enough. Instead of improving, Mars got worse, and Patton was going to put an end to this once and for all.

He stood in front of his best friends door, starting to question his if his decision was a good one or not. He let out a stuttered breath as he reached for the doorknob, only to hesitantly pull away.

...No, he had to do this. He had to go through with this. For the good of Thomas, this was something that needed to be done.

Patton is Morality; he knows what’s best for Thomas.

Besides, if he doesn’t do this, then no one would accept Thomas. He wouldn’t ever grow and would devolve into something horrible and would thus be shunned by everyone around him.

Taking a deep breath, Morality finally entered Mars’s room. It was a mess; filled with many journals containing ideas for different things that Thomas could create, good, angsty, and disgusting, and a lot of art equipment. Though Morality would prefer to ignore some of the unfinished paintings that’s in his peripheral vision.

Mars’s room is significantly bigger than everyone else's due to him wanting to wanting to feel like he’s actually in a castle, so it takes Morality a few minutes before he actually finds Mars.

When he finds him, he has his back turned to the other Side and is aggressively painting a new picture with both hands, not at all noticing that Morality stepped into the room. Using this opportunity to his advantage, Morality quickly looked around for Mars’s favorite sword. It was always in the same room as him, so it had to be around here somewhere. To his delight(?), he left it against the wall, almost as if he just left it there while in a rush to paint whatever new thing he thought of. Morality made sure to take it without making a noise, then hid it behind his back.

He has reached the point of no return.

Clearing his throat and putting his happy persona on, Patton tapped on Mars’s shoulder.

“Hey there, kiddo!”

“wHO GOES THERE-” Mars wildly spun around to face the other man, almost hitting him in the face with a paint brush, and didn’t realize that Patton was trying to hide something behind his back. “Oh! It’s just you, Pa! Erm, I’m afraid I cannot show you my next masterpiece because it’s not yet PERFECT! And therefore not actually a MASTERpiece yet. And you know how I HATE showing things that aren’t a perfect masterpiece!”

Patton chuckled nervously, “It’s fine. I, uh… I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you have the time.”

Mars gasped, offended at the thought he wouldn’t have the time to listen to his best friend. “Have the time?! Patton, you know I always have time for you, my friend! So, what can I do for you?” He asked, throwing the paintbrushes he was holding to his sides.

“Well… I wanted to talk to you about your… recent behavior.” Patton gulped.

Mars tilted his head curiously at him. He honestly had no idea what Patton was talking about. For all he knew, he was acting normal and adapting to whatever Thomas seemingly had an interest to.

“You’ve been, how do I put this? Erratic and really disturbing. The crude jokes and the ‘physical humor’ just isn’t right!” Patton continued with the feeling of dread starting to wash over him.

Mars was quick to defend himself. “What do you mean? I’m just adapting to what Thomas is growing interested in, or at least what he takes in from his environment! It’s fine!”

“No! It’s not fine!” Patton’s breathing started to stutter. “I… I don’t want to do this, but… If that’s what you think, and you’re sticking to it, then you give me no choice.”

Slowly, Patton revealed the sword and held it in both hands. Mars’s eyes immediately widened as he took a step back and Patton lifted the sword so it was above his head.

“W-Wait… Pa… Dad… What are you doing!? Y-You don’t have to do this! Please, think this through!” Mars began to plead, holding his arms up in a defensive position.

“I’m sorry…” Patton whispered as he closed his tear-filled eyes.

“...Long live the king.”

With a quick slice of the sword, Mars, King of Creativity, was sliced in two.

As the two halves slid apart and hit the floor, the Mindscape shook violently. Everything in the room, and probably everywhere else, fell off the walls and onto the floor.

The reality of what Morality did hit him quickly. He dropped the sword and looked at the scene in front of him, dropped to his knees, then looked down to his hands. He did this. This was his doing. But… it was for the best, right?

He didn’t have time to really fully process what happened before he heard the sound of footsteps running towards him and stop at the doorway.

“...Patton… What have you done?” A shocked Logan asked.

Morality didn’t answer right away as he was still staring into his hands in horror. Logan is only able to take a step forward before Morality looks over at him, tears streaming down his face.

“L-Logan… I… I… I had to do it… I couldn’t take it anymore so I… I cut him in half… I-It was the only way… O-Otherwise poor Thomas would have been rejected by others...”

Logan, unsure of how to comfort him, just stood there in the doorway. Why in the world Patton would go this far to stop those intrusive thoughts Mars produced was beyond him, but what's done is done. All he can do now is watch as the two halves regenerate to form their own whole body, and watch as Patton continues to break down in the middle of the room.

What intrigued Logan was that as the halves regenerated, so did their clothes. One half had his clothes turn white, his sash remain red, and had a small bit of gold on his clothes. He looked the most like the former king.

The other half, however, was almost dramatically different. He kept the primarily black outfit, but had a green sash, a silver quiff in his hair, his eyes looked like they were both bruised, and his outfit human teeth and eyeballs.

It was obvious which half had which traits.

While Logan was still observing the halves, Patton managed to get up and stumble to him, falling into him grabbing his shirt before he fell to the floor.

“Y-You need to help me… They can’t remember this. They can’t remember what I did to them!” He pleaded, looking the other man right in the eyes. “A-And we need to figure out what to do with… him…” He then glanced at the more disturbing looking half.

Logan felt bad, which was new, but Patton was right. If they remembered what Patton did, it wouldn’t end well. Also, something did have to be done with the two new sides anyway.

He gently nudged Patton off and carefully helped him sit onto the floor so he wouldn’t fall down. Then he goes over to the now fully formed sides and crouches next to them.

“...They’re gonna need names you know…” He said. There was silence between the two before Logan finally spoke up again. “...I think Romulus and Remus are adequate names for them. Romulus shall be the one in white while Remus is the… more disturbing one…”

Patton had to think about it for a moment, all while still trying to calm himself down, and nodded at the name suggestions.

“I think those are good names… But, Romulus is a bit much, don’t you think? How about just Roman?”

“Well, Romulus named his city Rome, so I suppose Roman shall suffice.” Logan agreed. “Now, Patton, I would suggest you go to your room to calm down. I’ll… figure out what to do from here. You’ve done enough today.”

“...No. Let me at least finish what I started.” Logan looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “I know what to do with Remus. Just… figure out how to wipe their memories and I’ll handle the rest.”

Normally Logan wouldn’t want Patton to handle anything by himself, especially after this mess, but something told him this was an argument he wouldn’t win, so he allowed it.

Nothing would be the same ever again.

The king was gone forever.

All that was left was the Prince and the Duke.

...Interestingly enough, the painting Mars was working on depicted an army of red exiting a castle to face an army of green, coming from a tower.

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders #Thomas Sanders #TS Fanfic

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scattered--pages · 5 years ago

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Nothing Broken, Nothing Thrown (1/?)

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Characters: Luka Couffaine, Anarka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Couffaine Dad, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Additional Tags: Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, character backstory, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Family Issues, Childhood Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Abuse, Family Abuse, Will be followed with lots of comfort and support by Mari as the story progresses I promise, But there's a heapload of pain and trauma in between, just as a warning

Ao3 link: here

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING !!! Unfortunately, this fic is going to get quite dark at times. It talks about how I envision the Couffaine family history. From their life with their father to how Luka and Juleka, as well as Anarka, ended up dealing with the aftermath of getting away from him. In between, there will be sweet moments of Marinette comforting Luka through each step of her finding out more and more about his past, but in between, this might get a bit too much for you if you are triggered by mentions of: family abuse, alcoholism, violence, self-harm, self-destructive behavior. Part of this was written based on some of my own painful experiences from the past.

Please everyone, stay safe and do not read this if you're worried that a mention or a description of any of these might trigger any negative feelings or responses in you.If you do decide to read through, you'll get a view into how I see what made the Couffaines what they are now, ultimately stronger, happier and more free and basically the entire last chapter will be Lukanette Hurt/Comfort fluff.

As always in my fics, music inspires a great deal of my writing and the writing of this first chapter was very much accompanied by Suzanne Vega's "My Name Is Luka", as well as Hozier's "Cherry Wine", both tragic but lovely and utterly amazing songs, and listening to them while reading might complete the experience. ♡Once more, stay safe and I love all of you. ♡

Summary:

"There is something very true about that saying that talks about how the happiest and kindest people often hurt the most inside, or how they've at the very least been through such hell that you would never guess that all of that was some time ago hidden with great effort behind the ever-smiling, protective, compassionate face that they always seem to wear flawlessly. And Marinette had no idea just how heartbreakingly this was true for the boy she cared for."

There is something very true about that saying that talks about how the happiest and kindest people often hurt the most inside, or how they've at the very least been through such hell that you would never guess that all of that was some time ago hidden with great effort behind the ever-smiling, protective, compassionate face that they always seem to wear flawlessly. And Marinette had no idea just how heartbreakingly this was true for the boy she cared for. For the happy, ever-supporting and bright boy for who she has now finally without any more hesitation started to develop incredibly strong feelings for. And she suddenly felt incredibly selfish and blind when she realized that there was a reason he was somehow always her shoulder to cry on and her biggest confidante lately, to such extents that even Alya could no longer compare. Because there was something so soothing, warm and accepting about him. Something that melted her in his hug every time, making most of her worries and troubles just naturally untangle themselves right in front of him, only for him to support and listen and hold her tight through it all. But he never did the same in return. In fact, as close as they were becoming, Marinette failed to realize how little she actually knew about a huge aspect of his life or his past. And perhaps, somewhere in the back of her mind, she just convinced herself that he just didn't have anything to let out as she did, that this was why he was as he was, it only made sense. But now, her heart shattered in face of her own ignorance. Now, this was what was suddenly obvious the entire time. The sheer amount of emotions, pain and trauma that one boy had to learn to suppress and move on from.

And how did she find out? By being too nosy for her own good and taking a peek at a tattered notebook that was hanging from the pile of things they had to move to the upper deck where a former ship drawing room was being re-modeled for a new room that he could have all for himself, much to Juleka's quite equal joy who now had the entire lower deck room for her own drawings, designs and horror posters wherever she wanted them.

But one old, tattered notebook put a sudden halt to a happy moving event on the Couffaine ship. Because, as Luka, Juleka, Anarka and a few of their other friends were helping with painting the room above, Marinette was clutching at her mouth, trying desperately not to alert attention to herself, trying desperately not to sob.

The old, tattered notebook with blue and green action heroes drawn all accross the front page – was a diary.

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"January 7th, 2012

Today, we went back to school. I’m kind of happy about it, though. I get to see my friends again. I get to secretly buy Juleka and me a candy bar each day on our way from school with the change money mom sneaks to us. I know dad doesn’t like us spending money when there’s not enough for all the bills, but mom convinced us it’s okay if it’s just one candy bar. That’s why I usually just buy Juleka one and maybe steal a piece. I’m worried about mom, though… Her recording studio is only booked from the end of January and dad doesn’t go on his tour til February… I hope she’ll be okay. I love mom and Juleka. I love dad, too. Even though it hurts a bit to love him in the past couple of years. But he says he loves us in spite of everything and says sorry and smiles after every time he does something bad. Mom says he just has ‘bad dad’ days and that he’ll get better once he stops taking those weird pills and drinks. I really want to become a cool musician like dad one day.

Luka”

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Snow was falling delicately against the cold Paris ground. The after effects of Christmas holidays could still be felt in the air all around. Most of the decorations haven’t been removed yet across the city and they made this chilly winter day enveloped in fog seem just a tad bit warmer. In one apartment, however, the interior didn’t match the fancy structures covering the modern building on the outside, nor the still-loving atmosphere left behind everywhere by Christmas and New Year’s Eve. This particular fancy apartment was a mess. Instruments and bottles laying about everywhere, even though Anarka cleaned them up just the night before. The air seemed to be icier than the one outside, even though you couldn’t feel it that way on your skin. But, all things considered, today’s dinner was going by fairly peacefully. Something she was very grateful for.

“Luka, Julie?”, Anarka’s cheery voice broke the silence, “How was your first day back at school?”

The raven haired little girl looked up behind her long bangs, but seemed to be too shy or perhaps too reluctant to speak. Her father noticed that and frowned. Immediately, Luka spoke up.

“It was fun”, he fiddled with his spoon around his plate and mustered up a small smile. “We’re having a talent show in two weeks organized at school”, his eyes carefully moved up to his dad, his smile still intact, and now quite hopeful, “I was thinking about applying as a contestant.”

Gaspard’s looked up and huffed out a chuckle. “To do what?”

The little boy’s smile dropped slowly. “To… Play guitar.”

Another grim chuckle.

“Don’t embarrass yourself, kid…”

“He won’t embarrass himself!”, Anarka interjected, her face baring anger and hurt that she’s been keeping down for so long that it was now slowly seeping through the cracks each time it rose up again. “He’s really good, Gaspard!”, she reached out across the table to place a gentle hand across Luka’s. “You’ll be as good as your dad one day, won’t you?” His mother’s proud smile lured his own back onto his face, but only for a moment.

Another snarky laugh. “Merde!”

“Gaspard! Not in front of the kids, again!”

His spoon made an angry clang against the ceramic before his fist met the table. “If you wanted a fucking sweet rural gentleman for a husband and a father of your kids, Anarka, you should have stayed in the middle of fucking nowhere by the southern coast and married a fucking fisherman!”

“Dad, NO, it’s okay, you’re right, I-I… I’m not good, it was a stupid idea, I won’t sign up for the competition…!”, Luka nodded, trying to stay calm and convincing even though, underneath the table, his hands were trembling. Juleka just kept staring at her plate, face down, long black hair hiding her from the world.

Seemingly satisfied with this outcome, Gaspard smirked and continued to calmly eat his soup, like nothing had happened.

-------

“January 16th, 2012

I’m a bit scared of dad these days. He got angry at Julie for stepping in his way when she was playing and swung his hand over her, but I managed to run in front of it and took the blow instead. She’s much smaller than me and it would have hurt her really bad. It didn’t hurt me a lot, just that my cheek was a bit purple for a couple of days, but it would have really, really hurt her. It was better this way. Dad never hit Julie before. He hit me occasionally, when he was really, really angry or drunk, and a few times he hit mom. But never Julie. He seemed to have felt bad when he realized what he almost did, it was really obvious, and he even apologized. He seemed really shaken. He even knelt down to hug us. I think he was close to crying. I was kind of happy, it was closer to how dad was a few years ago, it’s a shame Julie doesn’t even remember that dad. The fun dad. The hopeful dad. Dad’s been really, really bad since his band reunion didn’t work out and he stopped getting revenues from their music because of some issues that I didn’t really understand… I know dad can be better, if only he can stop worrying over his producer so much and if he stopped drinking. I know it. Deep inside, he’s a good dad, he really is. He gives us toys. He’s always sorry when he hits me and mom. He’s just going through a rough time, because his band isn’t as popular anymore, that’s at least what mom says. She says he’ll get better one day. I hope so too. Because sometimes I’m worried that mom is only saying that cause she’s scared of him. And my mom is never scared of anyone else, except him. I’m a bit more scared than usual, too. I’m not being very good, because I decided I really want to sign up for that talent show anyway and I’m going to get mom to get dad there by saying it’s a teacher-parent meeting or something. Cuz I really like playing the guitar. And if I show to my dad how good I am, he’ll finally be proud of me, too.”

-------

“I will not hear any of that, last month we had enough money, what the hell are you doing anyway?!”

“I only start recording in ten days, I’ve been practicing and gathering enough songs and material until that day comes, Gaspard!”, Anarka was collecting the pile of unpaid bills that she organized on the table an hour ago in preparation to talk to her husband, although now they were thrown astray. “Gaspard, I love you, but you need to realize we’re not young anymore, both of us, we can’t afford this place, we can’t afford this whole lifestyle! We can’t afford your… y-your…”, she faltered, her lower lip quivering in regret of even letting that slip out. Because sadly, nothing good will come of it. Nothing ever does.

Her husband advanced towards her and the usually brave and bubbly woman in front of him now instinctively took a shaky step backwards.

Gaspard smiled a wicked smile, twisted in the terrified irony of him being almost happy that she was able to make him mad again. Another release, another situation to explode in order to make himself feel better. “No-no, Anarka… Sweetie… Finish that sentence…”, he cocked his head in faux inquisitiveness as he continued quite literally backing her into a corner. “My? What? My d-d-drugs…?!”, he mocked the way her mouth quivered, too terrified to know if she should speak or not. “My booze?!” His hand slammed against the wall next to her. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”, his voice quieted town but the venom that dripped from it now seemed thicker. His head whipped back at Juleka holding her doll and her knees against her chest on the sofa, “All of you do!!!”, he bellowed, his voice filled with rage, breath filled with gin and head filled with complete disbelief of how his entire family could be so vicious and not see that he was, in fact, the real victim here.

“You!”, he pointed at his wife, “You were just Jagged’s lost little groupie when I found you!!! ‘Nanarky’…”, he imitated Jagged’s voice like a child imitating that one kid they really didn’t like, “Give me a break! And now he is being a superstar and I’m being a failure, I’m being forgotten?!”, he laughed, but it sounded so wrong that it filled Juleka’s eyes with tears, “Were you fucking him before me, Anarka?”, he tilted her chin up, “Is that why he even placed you in his band?! You were his whore, I know you were!!!”, he was screaming again and the shaking woman in front of him was suddenly filled with gust of courage as she pushed him away, whiping the tears off of her eyes in one swift movement before she faced him again.

“I will not let you insult me or my children anymore, I will not let you talk like that again!”, she roared and, for a second, he seemed genuinely shocked by the sudden shift in the usual way she reacted to situations like this. He could usually control her, no one else could, but he could. And he really didn’t like that he didn’t succeed in doing that now. “I was a good musician, a great one, you were the one that made me leave the band, you were the one who made me believe you actually cared about me…”, the tears started rushing in again, her voice breaking but not faltering, “That you wanted a family with me, that we could do this together! YOU are the one who ruined us all!”

Suddenly, she collapsed into a chair next to her and started uncontrollably sobbing into her hands. Tired, desperate, scared, and hopeless. For a minute, there was no sound other than those heart-wrenching muffled sobs, echoing across a living room far too big for the financial status of their family lately, and the wind outside. Gaspard leaned against the table, his head in his hands. It was so quiet. Too quiet. Because it was quiet enough for one sound to finally be heard in the other end of the apartment…

His fists clenched.

“I fucking swear…”, he turned towards the hallway, “If that is a guitar I hear… That boy is dead…”

“GASPARD, NO!!! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM, YOU WILL NOT HURT LUKA AGAIN!!!”, Anarka all but screamed as she flew after him, chasing his raging footsteps as they stormed down the hallway, grabbing at his shirt to pull him back, “You can’t be jealous at your son, Gaspard, he is your son, you can’t hurt him again, y-!” – a loud thud was heard as he flung her across the narrow space into the wall behind them and slammed open the doors to Luka’s room.

There, on the floor, sat the little shaggy haired boy, guitar in his lip, frozen in fear.

“D-Dad, I-I didn’t mean to, I-I…”

Gaspard took a deep breath and took a much calmer tone, “Give that guitar… to me, boy…”

“Dad, no! I-!”

“You will OBEY me, you little shit, or you’ll become a worthless piece of shit like your mother there!”, he pointed back at Anarka, her hands covering her mouth, eyes staring at Luka, afraid that if she moved, she would doom her son even more.

Luka stood up. Jaw trembling and eyes filling with tears, but his shoulders were straight and his head tilted up. “No.”

“Luka…”, Anarka let out a horrified whisper.

“What… did you say to me, boy?!”, the old rocker let out another one of those chilling laughs before it stopped as abruptly as it began its bellowing and in one swift step, he took a step forward, snatched the guitar roughly from his son and turned to the side, holding it by its neck and swinging it above his head.

“DAD, NO!!!”, the little boy cried out, and Anarka used the chance to run over to him and take him in her arms, “NOO, PLEASE DAD, PLEASE, I WON’T PLAY IT AGAIN!!!”, he tried in vain to try to wrestle out of his mother’s arms, “DAD, NO, PLEASE, IF YOU JUST HEAR ME, YOU’LL BE PROUD OF ME, AND IF-IF NOT I’LL NEVER TOUCH IT AGAIN JUST DON’T, DAD, PLEASE IT I-“

For a second, it seemed like everything turned completely quiet and still... Until a deafening sound broke the eerie silence, loud, sharp, violent.

Hundreds of splinters flew across the room.

CRASH.

The strings held the remains of the broken pieces, sticking at each side like ruffled hay.

CRASH!

Luka’s whole body went loose in his mother’s arms as she held him even closer to her, sobbing into the back of his head. He could feel wetness gathering in his eyes, but somehow, felt completely numb and empty in that moment. His one escape, his one love, the one thing he was good at – was destroyed.

The old rocker dropped the wooden remains and ran a finger through strands of course long, half-grey hair and left the room in silence.

And Luka playing the guitar was never mentioned again, at least not in that apartment.

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“February 18th, 2012

I don't talk to dad much anymore. He doesn't like me talking much anyway, I annoy him all the time and it makes me sad that I can't do anything good enough so I kinda stopped trying for awhile. I wish we could be happy. When we were younger, Julie and I, it was better than now. Things weren't perfect, but we were kinda happy. Happier than now. Dad was happier. And mom wasn't crying all the time. I wish dad still loved mom. And mom him. I wish dad loved us. I don't really think he loves me at all. I feel really empty and sad... Teacher asked me if I'm okay because my grades aren't really okay anymore. They've been going bad for awhile now, but I actually failed a few tests lately. I begged her not to tell my mom and dad and she seemed really worried, maybe because I cried, and she promised she won't, if I try to make those grades better. She asked me if I was okay. I said I was and smiled. But really, I don't really think I am. I kind of just want to disappear all the time lately.

Luka"

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The once fancy and happy apartment on the second floor was more messy than usual. But not the kind of creative mess that Anarka liked. And neither did Gaspard, even though he was mainly the one who caused it, proceeding than to attack his wife for why things aren't tidier around here. However, oddly enough, the air in the apartment was a bit calmer these days, but Luka and his little sister still had trouble sleeping every night so Anarka re-started the tradition of reading them bedtime stories. They would all huddle up in Juleka's room in the evening, wrapped up in a blanket on each side of Anarka as she quietly told them stories about her hometown by the French coastline. About the ships there, about how there was a legend that it was built by pirates long ago after a very powerful and successful group plundered so much throughout their journeys that they decided to settle down here and after generations and generations, their families and descendants still live there. About how her father taught her how to tie sailor's knots and how to perch up a sail when she was about Luka's age, and about how the sea was always a place where she felt the most free and peaceful. How when you're in the middle of the blue water, lulled by the quiet murmur of the waves, you don't need lullabies or bedtime stories, it is so serene and perfect that it can ease your soul into a blissful sleep within seconds on calm, starry nights. Eventually, she started promising them how, if things ever get even worse, she would take both of them and they would sail away, like her ancestors, and they would fight and plunder evil people, overcome even the worst storms because, when the waves get so high and dark that you can already feel the salt suffocating your throat before it even hit you, than, in that moment, is when every true sailor can use their inner strength to its fullest and find a way to take control of the sea and survive. Because there is no storm that a pirate can't defeat. And they are, after all, pirates. So no storm can ever do them any harm.

A lot of the time, Luka and Juleka's father wasn't even home these days, and when he came home, he was cold as ice, but at least he was mostly quiet and unphased. He didn't like them bothering him, he didn't really even want to see them occasionally, and occasionally, Luka would even see him cry and then, for a moment, he would hope again, just briefly, that maybe, just maybe, he still cares. Maybe there's still a way to reach to him, to fix all of this. But Luka never tried, and he didn't even know how. Somehow, these moments only made him feel even more miserable afterwards. And then he would lock himself up in his room, he'd crawl under his blankets, he'd push away his action figures and notebooks and he'd cry as well. Sometimes for a very long time. Sometimes he wasn't even sure why. But he did feel a bit better, from broken to numb, when the rush of tears was over. He started re-telling their mother's stories to Juleka, convincing her that truly, one day, they really would all escape all this, sail away from Paris, and then everything would be okay. Because the sea fixes everything. And because they can beat any storm, because they're pirates, mom said so.

One of these evenings around a very tension-filled mid-February, things seemed like the usual. Or at least what 'usual' meant lately. Outside, Paris was still decked in bright, crimson colors, snow covering happy, bright Valentine's day decorations strewn across every cafe veranda and against many windows in the city centre apartments. Inside their apartment, once again, it was just cold. And not much else. This time, the chill reached both figuratively and literally into the tenants of the large apartment on the second floor of the condominium complex. They shut off their heating a few days ago because Anarka couldn't pay their heating bills anymore, but a kind neighbour borrowed them two moveable electrical radiators that they mainly used in their bedrooms and in the kitchen in the morning when she made them breakfast. It had to be plugged into electricity, which they still had, but it never went outside of Anarka's mind that next month, she won't have enough for electricity either, third month in a row, and then, she didn't know what she would do and how she would keep her children warm. But their lives now were lived day by then, built on promises of everything somehow getting better, on enduring everything like they did so far.

Gaspard, however, wasn't as happy with this. But he didn't really have enough will-power to do anything about it, which only fuelled his rage, making him spend the little they had on alcohol and colorful tablets that Luka thought looked like bonbons but he knew how dangerous they were and had to keep Juleka from accidentally eating them a few times, thinking they were candy. Because Gaspard no longer cared enough to at least hide them or keep them away at all. They were strewn all over the place, just like the bottles, clothes, dishes, and the pieces of their family that seemed to never have been quite whole at all.

One night, Anarka made sure Luka and Juleka washed their teeth and got ready for bedtime, one of the radiators, a bit old but practical and doing what they were intended to do, was buzzing idly in the bathroom as she helped Juleka get into her pyjamas. It got so cold that they all slept in one bed in her room. Gaspard usually passed out in the living room, fully clothes, wrapped in his coat, so he didn't mind anyway. Sometimes, he wouldn't even come home for days at a time. But today. He cared. Or minded, to put it better. The last resort he had to feeling alive and fine with this whole situation was an abundant combination of brandy and those colorful tablets, but there wasn't enough money left for him to steal from their savings anymore to buy as much as he needed and slowly, but dangerously, Gaspard was breaking along the edges.

"Anarka!", he bellowed from the living room, his voice laced with alcohol - 'fortunately' for him, that, was still fairly cheap to obtain, so his solution was to simply replace the role of pills in his daily concoctions by just consuming a double dosage of liquor in whichever shape or form he could find and buy it. "It is fucking FREEZING here!"

His wife adjusted her glasses shakily and peeked from the bathroom doors, gesturing for Juleka not to come outside. Luka peeked from their bedroom and instantly slid back behind the door frame as well. "We didn't have enough for heating this month, Gaspard", she said carefully, "You know that."

"How?!”

“Gaspard… There hasn’t been enough money… I got my pay for the recordings I did, but… Your revenues still haven’t started coming in again and this apartment costs a fortune just to maintain and-and…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, that doesn’t answer my question!”, he spread his arms wide and turned around, looking around the place with a murky gaze, “I’m the guitarist of the world famous Dark Concords, we should be able to afford double as big of a place than this!”, he stared of into the distance, eyes focused on an unidentifiable spot on the wall. Anarka’s eyes teared up.

“Please, mon cher, you’re not well, you’re not sober…”, she sniffled quietly, weary of any noise she was creating, any annoyance she may be presenting. “And you haven’t been a part of the Dar Concords for a few years now, mon cher… You know th-“

“ I was a STAR, Anarka, I was bathing in money, we had enough for CENTURIES, what did you buy, where the fuck did it disappear suddenly?!"

"It's been disappearing for awhile now, Gaspard...", still calm and cautious, she attempted to muster up a brief explanation, like she was talking to a dangerously disobedient child that she didn't want to upset again instead of to a husband who, when he was sober, already knew all of this all to well, "I didn't buy anything out of the ordinary, you know that..."

"HOW is that possible?! Where the fuck did it go then if you didn't waste it?!", he advanced towards her, arms clenching

"Gaspard, please... We-We've been over this... We'll talk about this again when you're not like th-"

"Like WHAT, Anarka?! You don't like me like this, I KNOW that, I know that you've started abandoning me ever since things went even a BIT away from picture perfect!", his eyes almost seemed teary, but the way his frame shook was so violent and terrifying that wasn't capable of awakening any sympathy. Anarka gently pushed Juleka inside the bathroom as the little girl with the long black hair scuttled behind her to peek out. Her mother made sure to quietly but securely close the door to keep her away from what was happening, again, on a night she really thought would be able to pass through without this.

"You know that's not true, Gaspard...", her voice broke, tears rolling against the corners of her lips, "You can't claim that, you know it's not true...", her voice was gentle, almost forgiving, "You know I would give everything for our family, I'm still here...", she nodded her head, "We all are... We all want you to get better and come back to us..."

"Better?", his lip quivered in a way that sent shivers down Luka's spine as he carefully watched from the barely opened door of the main bedroom. "BETTER?! After everything I've done for you, I'm still not good enough for you or the world, huh?!", his voice thundered and Anarka extended a shaky hand towards his cheek, "Gaspard, please..." -- but it was all she managed to say before her body was flung against the hallway cupboard, the side of it breaking under her as she slammed against it, blood pooling beneath the skin of her eye and cheek on the side where she was struck, blood pouring out from her nose, deep crimson as it smudged against her pale skin. Luka couldn't take it. Not anymore. No more forgiveness. No more trying. No more hoping.

"I hate you...", he hissed through clenched fists, face dark as the face of a child his age shouldn't be capable of being. "I. HATE. YOU!", the boy screamed, a second before patters of bare feet started violently running against the cold tiles in front of him as he basically charged at his father in full speed. What followed happened so fast that, within a second, an angry hand pushed back, full force as well, but this time coming from a much bigger and more dangerous source, just a small shove, a throw for the man, a movement that almost seemed easy from how quick and effortless it was, but the damage it left proved a stark, chilling contrast to this. All that could be heard in one moment was the loud, shrill smashing of broken glass of the door leading from the hallway to the living room, before a sharp metallic smell filled the air. Red soaked his teal pyjama shirt in such amount that made it quickly started cling to his skin like a wet tissue, pouring from his head, side side, his back, it was horrifyingly difficult to tell.

"LUKA!!!", the scream of a mother, broken, was shrill and so engulfed in pain that it would break even the hardest heart. Her own pain didn't matter anymore because, somehow, she was by her son's side in a flash, trying desperately to cradle him as carefully as possible in her arms, not minding the shards, but minding not to make them stick into his skin even further. "No, no, no, no, no... My baby boy... My sweet, brave little boy... My angel, no, no, no, what did you do... What did you do?!", her words were dragged along with her sobs, directed at the man now holding his hand in his hands, suddenly confused, dazed and afraid as his family had never seen him. He tried to say something, mouthing words akin to 'I'm sorry' over and over, but Anarka couldn't even look at him, she just cradled her boy and repeated the last words she said like a torn mantra a few more times, before she snatched the phone from the broken cupboard and dialled the emergency services.

Her husband didn't stay to wait for her to finish the call. He backed away into the entrance door, opened it shakily and ran outside aimlessly. In that exact moment, Juleka rushed from the bathroom, shivering as she jumped down into her mother's arms, sobbing, whimpering, stretching out a small, shaky hand to clumsily but tenderly smooth it against her brothers dark hair, wet with blood, as he mumbled out words they couldn't understand... to her? To his mother? Was he even conscious? Were they pleas for help? The sounds were so disfigured that Juleka thought her brother must have forgotten how to talk from the blow of the fall, but she still tried to make him feel better, tapping at his hair with her little hand like their mom used to do when she would put them to sleep every night. Slow, calming, humming.

It was an aching image of love, tragedy and family in the worst, most wrong way possible, hurting and seeping at the edges, tearing apart. Of three people trying to make each other safe when they couldn't even protect themselves any more at this point. And so they remained, the three of them, together, until the emergency workers tore them apart and placed Luka's screaming, desperate, terrified mother into one van, a kind nurse administering something that she kept promising would calm her down, they wrapped Juleka in a blanket and placed her beside her mother on the stretcher in the first vehicle, as they rushed Luka into another, bandages, panicked personnel and I.V. tubes blocking the view at the boy's broken frame. As Juleka watched them closed the door, for some reason, a sheer surge of terror coursed through her and she felt this incredibly strong fear that she may not see her big brother any more after this and immediately broke into tears again, this time even louder, more terrified, her quiet voice suddenly spilling into screaming, gut-wrenchingly painful sobs that out-voiced even the muffling, loud roar of the red and blue sirens of the emergency vans that were rushing them away from the hell of broken glass, broken promises and a home that seemed to have never really been a home at all...

-------

The last few pages was Luka writing up what the nurses, his sister and mother told him about the whole event after he woke up a few days later, with a lot of stitches, an arm broken in three places, hip fractured, head throbbing, his small body heavy and tired, and skin still ghostly pale and aenemic from the lack of blood that still didn't quite fix itself back to normal even after a couple of days of transfusions and I.V. treatments and horrible headaches that couldn’t pass from even the strongest medications that they were able to give him. But he was alive, and they all said it was a miracle that he was after how his tiny frame smashed through those doors. He was concussed and hurt and broken, but alive. And he will be okay. For Anarka and Juleka, this was enough, and the poor woman started yelling at the doctors when they offered to explain to Luka himself the state he was in. Instead, she was intent on somehow making her children forget all about what happened. She said one of the boats stationed at the Seine’s shores is being sold and that her family will borrow her some money to buy it. They’ll finally have their boat, they’ll finally be pirates, free and happy and away from everything bad, taking life as it is, never staying at one place for too long and never having to worry about anything. She assured them of this. And Luka thought that, perhaps, she was just trying to shelter them, or at least to distract and shelter him from remembering all that happened that night, but in fact, she didn’t even need to try too much, Luka didn't remember a single thing from that day. At least at that point when Juleka secretly told him about everything, with teary eyes and hands that clutched at his hand on the bed so tightly that he thought she would never let him go. But he didn't ask her to. If all he could do now to make her feel better was to let her hold his hand for as long as they let her, he didn't mind in the slightest. And if all that helped calm his mom down was to avoid the topic of what put them in this mess in the first place, well that wasn't a difficult task either.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking part of this particular entry though, and the conclusion of the entire journal, was the final note about how he wondered, still, after they've told him about all that transpired, if his dad will come to visit him. Because he missed him...

"Marinette...?", a soft voice with only hints of panic woke her up from her trance. It was only than that she realized she set there on the floor, the notebook in her lap - which Luka most definitely recognized - hand over her quietly sobbing mouth, tears pouring for what could have been an eternity after she finished that last page.

Hesitant and careful, Luka stood at the entrance to the room on the boat that he used to share with his sister, in times that marked the beginning of much happier years than those whose end was described in that small journal, written in that large but cold apartment further uptown in Paris. He wasn't sure how much she read of it and it was as if he didn't know how to react. Of course, deep inside, in a way, he felt exposed, embarrassed, as one would of someone, especially someone he cares about discovering a darker side of his life that he tried very hard to hide and bury deep, deep into the past, but more so than any of the self-consciousness he might have felt, he was worried at the state that diary left Marinette in.

But just as he parted his lips to say something, the small, shaken figure on the floor sprung up suddenly, closed the distance between them and leapt into his arms, holding him more tightly against her than she ever did. If this was in any other circumstance, he might have blushed, he might have chuckled, but right now, the only meaning this embrace had was a consolation and validation of how horrific the things he went through were, as well as of how, in spite of them, he was still here, someone knew about this, or at least about a part of it, and they still loved him and accepted him instead of judging him or feeling sorry for him. Because that wasn't an embrace of pity. It was of support, of love, something he never got outside from Juleka and his mother because he never dared tell anyone about this, his 'new' life completely replacing his 'old' one in a way that he didn't even dare mention it in fear of ruining everything. Maybe people would have even judged him for how broken he got after it all because maybe other people had it even worse.

But someone else knew now.

Someone finally knew, and they accepted it with love and, for the first time in forever, Luka was the one being cared for, consoled, cradled in someone's arms, instead of it always being the other way around. And he didn't mind it being the other way around, hell he made sure it was always mainly the other way around but, god. This gripped him to his core and brought him back into the state of mind and emotion of that little boy, standing at the entrance of his room, scared and excited whenever he would see his dad come home, broken and hopeful, persistent until he became angry and terrified and heartbroken and nothing more.

"Marinette...", was all he managed to whisper, voice cracking against her hair, arms wrapped around her pulling her even closer, nearer... The girl who now exposed all of his cleverly hidden and masked broken pieces while instantly managing to hold them together and patch them up, bit by bit, teardrop by teardrop as they cried in each other's arms, second by second of desperate hands clutching at each other, unwilling to part as if they were holding onto one another for dear life.

And if a single punch, a throw, could have broken him so thoroughly, physically and emotionally, as that one did more than seven years ago, than this one embrace was enough to stitch together years of suppressed pain, fears and loss, blissfully, fiercely, all at once.

“Do… Do you want to know what happened afterwards?”

Gently pulling away to look at him, Marinette blinked her tears away and nodded firmly.

“Tell me everything, please.”

#lukanette #luka couffaine #lukanette fic #juleka couffaine #anarka couffaine #dad couffaine #angst #tw: family abuse #tw: violence #tw: alcoholism mention #mine

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tally-kiza · 6 years ago

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Horrortale and Horrorfell Headcanons

After making some Horrorswap and Horrorswapfell headcanons, I decided to try my hand at Horrorfell and Horrortale hc’s!

(this is slightly edited and revised as of 02/07/2020 so if things seem different than before, thats why)

Horrorfell Papyrus (Voss)

- Years of struggling to survive have tempered his ego and grandiose. He doesn't have the energy to loudly trumpet his own greatness anymore.

- Fights with unruly Snowdin-folk have left his teeth oddly-spaced, cracked and crooked, and a collage of small cracks along his bones and skull.

- After Undyne became queen and began her tyranny, she and Pap got into a terrible fight, which lead to Sans's cracked skull and the loss of Papyrus’s hand. The loss made surviving that much harder, but makeshift prosthetics certainly helped.

- Still the responsible one. (When they’re Underground) he cooks food for himself, Sans, and Snowdin. Sets up very gorey and deadly traps to capture humans. Motivates Sans enough to keep him from dusting. Reports to Undyne daily. Keeps her wrath out of Snowdin.

- Once, when he caught a particularly fierce monster trying to steal food, he attempted to dust them, but the monster fought back and punched a section of Pap’s jaw. Those bones, being too weak from malnutrition, shattered, leaving only half his jaw, only one cheekbone, and vision in only one of his eyes. Talking was very painful for him afterwards, and even when he does get a prosthetic jaw, he never says much, and rarely if ever yells.

- The injury caused blindness in one of his eyes. He was already partially-blind in the other eye from a scar, and with this new jaw injury, it left his vision so poor that he’s legally blind.

- Generally very serious. Resting face is just (눈_눈). After all he's been through, not much can faze him. Rarely ever smiles or laughs, and is easily irritated. He may not be able to yell anymore to express that irritation, but boy does he have a glare that could turn you to stone.

- On the surface, he's still the one taking care of him and his brother.

- Gets his teeth fixed with braces on the surface--even though he hates how stupid he thinks he looks for the entire 2-year process, he has to admit he’s happy that he’ll be in less pain soon.

- Is given a seeing eye and therapy dog to help him and his brother. Voss says he doesn't need one, that's he's perfectly fine, but he can't deny that it makes his life easier and a heck of a lot nicer. Paps is also pleasantly surprised when the dog comforts Sans when he dissociates, and himself when his thoughts start spiraling and the dark days catch up to him.

- Both of them try to train it into being a guard/attack dog, but attempts have been unsuccessful (i.e. the dog is sweet as heck and doesn't have a mean bone in its body.)

- While he's not particularly fond of humans, he doesn't outright avoid them like his brother does. But he is, however, the king of passive aggression, and with his irritability, there’s no telling what untoward comments or petty revenge he may hoist upon an unsuspecting human.

- Loves filling out sudoku and crossword puzzles. They’re a nice way to unwind and stretch his brain muscles. It’s almost frightening how fast he can complete them. And he has a shockingly good track record for getting them 100% right almost every time!

- An amazing cook. Can make a gourmet meal out of food scraps. But he doesn’t enjoy it much anymore. It’s just a duty, like everything else. Before the famine, he loved cooking; it was his passion, but then it was... soured for him.

- Despises not being productive, so he works a lot, at the job that makes him happiest: a plant nursery! Weeding, watering, planting trees, etc, it all seems so very mundane but it’s just... such a nice reprieve from the stress he’s used to. He loves helping things grow and flourish instead of destroying them.

Horrorfell Sans (Rem)

- Will eat anything. A N Y T H I N G. Even if it isn't edible. He doesn't go out of his way to do it, but there were times during the famine when there wasn’t any choice.

- Basically a big ol' teddy bear. His closest friends will receive unexpected tsundere cuddles. He’s fluffy no matter how hard he denies it.

- Feels very awkward generally. He doesn't know what to do with himself on the surface. He also tends to says all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Also occassionally blunt and straightforward. Almost rudely so. Doesn’t care much about people’s feelings, he just wants them to know the facts.

- Doesn't make friends easily. Basically ignores most humans on the surface until his brother makes Sans get off his ass and be a contributing member of society. Is openly hostile to humans at first, but after a few years he relaxes around them more.

- If, by some miracle, you actually befriend him and his brother he'll defend you within an inch his life. He doesn’t take friendships and closeness lightly, and if he trusts you enough, he won’t let anything bad happen to you.

- The underground was very aggressive, and you could get attacked at any time, so napping was a no-go. On the surface, however, once he feels safe, he will nap. ALL. THE. TIME. There is no waking him before he is ready.

- He's not in the best state of mind, so he probably won't ever get a full time job, but he'll probably do odd jobs once in a while. Something easy with heavy lifting or where he can slack off.

- The hole in his head gave him memory problems worse than HT Sans's. If you tell him something, Sans could very well forget it almost 5 minutes later. Gets lost often and forgets where he is, so his brother tags around with him a lot to help keep Sans on track.

- Luckily writing things down is a pretty good solution to that, so he keeps a lot of pencils and notebooks around for when he needs to jot down notes to remember.

- Much like Red, Rem adores video games. The former prefers horror and competitive games where he can whup the asses of anyone he wants, whereas the latter likes more casual stress-free games like Candy Crush and Angry Birds -- Rem’s had enough stress for one lifetime, he doesn’t want any more of it. So the more casual ones are his favorites.

- Collects objects! Mostly little knickknacks and trinkets he finds, like marbles, tickets, stamps, even slow globes! His otherwise sparse room is filled with these and he loves every one of them.

- After Undyne smashed his skull in, it took a part of his eye socket too, so he's blind in that eye now. His other eye is bright red and dilated just like HT Sans’s eye.

- Thinking is so hard sometimes... so he doesn’t talk much anymore. And he still loves puns and jokes but making them is harder these days because of his injury. The easiest ones for him are knock-knock jokes, so he has a set of bone-themed ones that he memorized a long time ago to shoot off whenever appropriate.

- Has occasional episodes where he depersonalizes and derealizes. The world around him gets fuzzy and its hard to think and react. Those moments are... distressing. Once in a while, he’ll also have black-out fits of rage, mostly triggered by the site of heavy bleeding -- but his brother can usually talk him down from those.

- Like all the others, the famine left him really messed up. He doesn't like thinking about it, and even though he doesn’t regret doing what he had to to survive, the guilt still eats him up sometimes...

Horrortale Sans (Mars)

- Quiet and observant. When he gets to the surface, he doesn't talk much, and when he does it's usually some sassy joke or observation. Usually talks the most when his bro is around, but generally he’ll just let Pap steer the conversation instead.

- Doesn't remember much from before Frisk left. The majority of his scientific knowledge has disappeared. He knows he used to know these things, and it frustrates him endlessly that he can't understand it anymore. He tries to read scientific studies once in a while, but always ends up just throwing his phone/book across the room in frustration.

- Not very hostile towards humans, just ignores those he can. Often people stare at him and it gets... very annoying after a while. So he just ignores them and keeps doing his thing.

- Often dissociates, he spaces out and loses himself. Occasionally during these moments he’ll forget that he’s on the surface and he’s safe. So his bro made a list for him of things to remember during these, when he’s not around to comfort Mars in person. The list includes like Frisk is gone, they can’t hurt anyone; humans are good; they’re safe and well; they're not going back underground. It’s ver comforting to Sans.

- Has a weird fascination with dark jokes. They simultaneously make him uncomfortable yet he loves them. He won’t say them too often, most of the time just to unnerve someone he dislikes. (Pap groans and chastises Sans whenever he makes them, but secretly deep down, he finds them funny too.)

- On the surface, he’ll often wear a beanie or his hood to cover up the hole in his skull. Having it exposed to surface air, especially high winds, felt similar to strong winds whipping against your face, so the beanie helps with that. Eventually though, he gets a prosthetic mold that perfectly fits into the hole, so it’s all covered and he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. Mars is a lot happier with it.

- Hates sand. It’s coarse and rough and gets everywhere like his joints and head hole.

- Loves sandwiches. Passionate about them. There’s just so many possibilities to them. Makes them out of everything so that they usually end up being at least 3+ inches tall. Yet he can’t open his teeth so how can he eat them...?? Truly, it is a mystery.

- Likes listening to instrumental songs. Especially the relaxing kind. They’re such a nice reprieve from the constant, deafening silence of the Underground.

- Post-it notes are a life-saver. He has terrible memory, so he keeps a bunch of them in his hoodie and scattered all over the walls of his house so he can write down stuff before he forgets.

- Ver affection-starved. He secretly loves affection but doesn’t get it enough (from anyone other than his bro). Is surprisingly soff for cuddles and petpats. Feeling your soft touch on his bones always makes him so soft and happy.

- When Mars got to the surface, he discovered all these insanely cool weather phenomena and fell in love. They never had anything like that underground, so seeing it all for the first time, in all its chaotic, unpredictable, majestic glory left him starstruck. It’s one of the few things hes genuinely interesting in, and his face always lights up whenever he talks about the different types of tornadoes and lightning and! the aurora!! It's so awesome, he loves all of it.

- Loves watching livestreams of the sky and weather-events. Usually it’s so chill and quiet to him, even if there’s something not-so-chill-and-quiet being recorded. It’s ver relaxing to him.

- Befriending Mars is a task and a half. He assumes anyone who tries to get close to him is up to no good. But with a combination of puns, friendliness, and persistence, he will eventually trust you. Once you get past his aloof exterior, he’s a pretty nice and chill friend to have.

- Hates to think about the famine and his time underground. Even though he’d do it all over again to save him and his brother, he’s still haunted by the memories of what he had to do. Barely ever entertains the idea about doing so on the surface.

Horrortale Papyrus (Jupiter)

- Fashion icon. Like dang, can this skellie put an outfit together. If you ever need fashion tips, always go to Paps. He’ll use the opportunity to show off his wardrobe and all his cool embroidered leather jackets and boots. He even offers to embroider your clothes too so you can look like him!

- Like canon Papyrus, Jupiter is charmingly eccentric. Not crazily so, just in that usual Papyrus way. But he’s also a lot chiller, too. The famine sapped his energy, so it got harder to proclaim his cool greatness, but he still likes thinking he can still be cool and great after all these years.

- An excellent cook. Can make a buffet out of scraps. Ever since he got out from the surface, now that he has all the ingredients he could ever want, he’s taken up cooking as a serious hobby. He’s even won multiple local cooking contests! Only ever cooks vegetarian meals, but with the power of tofu, he always makes them taste succulent and delicious.

- Baking, however, is still a bit of a challenge for him, but Pap is determined to master it just like he did cooking!

- Has a giant collection of small succulent plants in his house. They’re everywhere, on the windowsills, the bookshelves, hanging from the ceiling. He loves them and their simple beauty; seeing them throughout his home always makes him smile.

- After he arrived on the surface, he almost immediately got braces to fix his teeth. The fancy kind with colorful dots! They’re kinda painful to wear, but nonetheless he’s psyched the entire time that his teeth will be better soon.

- Gets helpful glasses on the surface. He loves them; not only do they allow him to see-- which had been progressively harder underground as he became increasingly malnourished-- but they look cool too! They even fade into being sunglasses when he goes outside, so every time the sunny rays hit his face, he becomes his Ultimate Coolness Form!

- It’s... it’s harder to believe sometimes that with everything that’s happened and with the way he looks now that he’s... cool. But! He always has Sans’s and his therapist’s encouraging words to rely on when he feels down, which is always a big help to him.

- Loves wholesome memes, and will send them to you all the time. He especially likes the drink water ones, mostly because he thinks it’s an important healthy reminder. “YOU NEED WATER, HUMAN! IF YOU DON’T DRINK WATER, YOU MIGHT TURN INTO A PRUNEY, DEHYDRATED RAISIN AND DIE! AND THAT WON’T BE A FUN SITUATION FOR ANYONE. SO PLEASE DRINK YOUR LIQUIDS!”

- His favorite activity is! Picnics!! Especially in the park and with other people! They’re so much fun, he loves nomming his delicious foodstuffs on a comfy blanket while the warm sunlight shines on his happy face. It’s extra fun when there’s clouds in the sky for him and you and anyone else to find cool shapes in!

- Still gets panic attacks from time to time, when the memories get too strong and he feels like he’s still underground, starving to death... He goes to counseling to deal with his trauma. The famine really did a number on him, and even though he puts up fronts and says he's fine, it’s hard to deal with the memories sometimes.

- Really cares for his brother and always makes an effort to be there for him. The famine, even though it led the bros to be closer than ever before from seeing each other in those desperate states, put a strain on their relationship. But on the surface, after everything’s said and done and they’re getting the help they need, it’s steadily improving.

- Jupiter is hard of hearing. He has difficulty differentiating certain words, and talks loudly to be able to hear himself better. On the surface however, he gets treatment so his hearing is far improved! Apart from getting a hearing aid, he takes up learning sign language (mostly so he can be cool in more than one language!), and likes it and talking to people with it so much that he eventually becomes a sign language interpreter! It’s a great job and he loves being able to help people this way.

#horrortale #horrorfell #mine #headcanons #undertale headcanons #undertale imagines #horrortale sans #horrorfell sans #horrorfell papyrus #horrortale papyrus #hf papyrus #hf sans #ht sans #ht papyrus #sans #papyrus #long post #i love the mental image of tol prickly hf pap just sweetly watering some flowers. its so cute #taki writing

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wickednerdery · 6 years ago

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Title: Hoarfrost Hel: Commandeered Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Jotun!OC, Elf!OCs (& Loki) Rating: Teen Summary: “What are you?!” Notes: This is going back to JUST after The Avengers, but again I’m only using canon things I want lol! This is the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy - the first is FrostBitten. The story on whole is gonna be very dark, this piece itself - which starts Ulfr’s story - is actually pretty tame aside from the attempted striking of a kid and off-screen violence. (All translations, which come from Tolkien writings are at the end.) Still, for consistency and length it gets a “Read More”.

Ulfr lets go before they ever reach Asgardian territory; takes the risk of the abyss rather than the surety of enemy hands. There is a strangeness in the fall, he flies fast from Heimdall’s pull, then slows to a weightless swim. One that seems to last forever, reeking of gasoline and burning flesh, before he feels the familiar twist in his gut that signals what he needs. A portal. He does his best to float over, but it’s in kicking off a passing blue and gold M-ship that Ulfr makes any headway. Gets close enough that gravity takes over to suck him in, through.

Things speed up once more, the swirl of energy tossing him about until his head spins. He closes eyes, prays to the gods that this portal will not be like the last. That this one will be bring him peace, adventure, and above all, safety. Only when the pull of the vortex stops, when he feels himself falling due to pure gravity, does Ulfr open his eyes. The sky above is pure blue with silver clouds, trees hit him with sturdy wood and vibrant leaves, and the earth strikes hard, but ultimately gives way under him. He lays still, shifting in and out of his Jotun-self to test and heal his body. He only stops seeing his frost creeping across fresh lands.

Prince Draugluin feels the earth shake, a chill run through the air and then his bones. His horse threatens to throw him and he must put force behind the reins to steady the creature. They both sense something foreign in their lands, something to be wary of. “What was that?” He turns sharp to his page, who merely shrugs.

“I don’t know, mi’lord.”

“Then perhaps you should find out,” he glares. Idiot servants, they need to be told everything plain and even then they hesitate like this one. “Well? GO!!” He roars and the young boy dashes.

He wanders aimlessly, only picking the direction of ‘away’, until he feels sudden, bitter, freeze. Even the most brutal of Álfheimr winters were not so col and the boy began to huddle into himself for warm and security as he pressed on. By the time he finds the frosted crater Draugluin’s barking out to him. Has he found anything? Where is he? Answer! But he can’t find his voice as he stands before a blue giant with finger to its lips.

“I won’t hurt you,” Ulfr assures as he shifts into an appearance closer to the other. Humanoid form, white marble skin, with slightly pointed ears. He knows where he is now, there should be little risk here. “What’s your name, little elf?” Only a squeak comes from the lad and he chuckles. “I’m Ulfr.”

There’s another moments hesitation before he mutters. “Virtion.”

“Lazy, stupid, boy!” The Prince storms upon them, riding crop at the ready. “When I call for you, you answer me, understood?!” He raises hand high and the boy flinches, but the strike never comes. A hand stops it: bone-breakingly strong as it burns with cold. “What sorcery…?!” The thing before him is a horror-show reflection with ruby eyes and skin lined in moonstone.

“Most would think the Ljósálfar above it…” Ulfr smirks, yanks the prince from atop his horse to the ground. “It’s almost comforting to know it’s the same everywhere.”

“I am Prince Draugluin, son of Aranwë, ruler of this realm!”

“Always those above beating those beneath them further down, always the masters cruel to the meek.”

“What are you?!” Draugluin half commands, half begs, as he kicks out in attempt to regain footing.

“...An avenging angel?” Ulfr offers in jest. “Wait, do your people believe in those? Perhaps vengeful god’s better? Ah, doesn’t matter.” Fists turn to ice as the prince claws at them.

“Unhand me, Helegan!” Draugluin orders him, then his page. “Anno dulu enni!”

“Shut...UP!!” The frost giant’s had enough of this. Of the prince’s fear after being only too keen to whip a little boy, of his demanding nature, of all those things that remind Ulfr of Loki. He’s lived under shitty princes and cruel kings, he’s had enough of them and the universe could certainly do with one fewer. And, with a flick of his wrist, there is.

Virtion jumps, muffles the yelp with his hands, before looking up into red eyes as his own tear.

Hard to imagine, but Ulfr forgot about the boy and immediately drops the body to crouch before him. “Shhh, shh shh shh...” he quickly works to sooth, silence, the child. “Hey, no no, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not, just...”

“Prince Draugluin?! My lord...where’ve you gone?!”

Ulfr’s hand flies over the boy’s mouth as he gives a stressed smile. “He really was the prince?” The boy nods. Oops. “You’re a slave, yes?” The boy nods again. “I killed your master, yes?” Another nod. “Good, now you’re mine, understand?” Nod. “Close your eyes and do not open them again until I say so.”

The page does as told, closes and even covers eyes. He listens though. Without understanding why he hears the growls of a beast, the tearing of flesh and crunching of bone so terrifying he begins to shake, bite back sobs, praying to the gods that someone will come along and find him. Save him. Protect him. End whatever bizarre nightmare he’s in.

“Sire?” Maethril’s eyes scan the area, but only finds his horse, his page boy, and mass of gore between the two. She supposes she should at least be grateful the gore isn’t the boy...it wouldn’t be the first time Prince Draugluin ‘accidentally’ lost a servant while hunting. “Where is he?!” The page merely shakes his head with eyes still covered. He doesn’t know and can’t look to see. “Boy!” It’s a warning snap from the she-elf, but Virtion is held by the orders of his strange new master.

“Calm yourself...” The prince appears from within the woods, spattered with blood but otherwise his usual haughty self. He looks down at the youth, smirks. “Virtion, open your eyes, foolish boy.” The words are correct, but the tone far too kind.

The page opens them cautiously, they go wide at the sight of his former master before him. He jumps, trips and falls, at the mass of death before him. He looks up at the narrow-eyed she-elf, one of the royal family’s personal guards, then to Draugluin. He thinks he knows, but surely it can’t be...

“I told you the wolf would not get us,” the man states firmly before a hint of smile and flash of crimson eyes show to the lad. “Your lord and master is much too clever to fall prey to such a dull creature.”

So...this is what Ulfr’s up too, haha! While this initial switch is relatively easy, I doubt all things will be so for him...This realm is one Ulfr’s read about, but not been to and the prince is a very different person from Ulfr so it’s certain he’ll have issues keeping his cover and such, haha! (Ulfr can speak Allspeak though, so he’ll understand what’s being said aside from, maybe, certain cultural phrases.) Ljósálfar are the Norse Light Elves, Álfheimr is their realm, and I’m obviously going to use the concept of Tolkien elves (at least in part) to represent them, lol!

Word Glossary (in order of usage):

Draugluin - Blue (Were)wolf (Sindarin) Virtion - Virt - Slave (Qenya); -ion - son (Sindarin) Aranwë - Kingly Person (Sindarin) Helegan - Heleg- Ice; Lavan - Beast (Sidarin) Anno dulu enni! - Help me! (Sindarin) Maethril - [Female] Warrior (Sindarin)

(Gifs found on Google, then combined by me)

Tagged: @succumb-to-your-king @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7 @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @drakonwild @starscreamloki @judas-nipples @hiddles-rose @the-lady-witchitery @galaxies-inside-my-head @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession @endlessstairway @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981 @lovekrystina @madoka73 @lokikingofasgardslover713 @partiallyinthecloset @ultrarebelheart @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki @my-world-of-imagines …Think that’s everyone from FrostBitten, if you want on or off, just lemme know! (Strike-throughs are those Tumblr refuses to tag properly)

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placetobenation · 5 years ago

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So, WWE Universe! What got you excited this week?

Was it the return of Goldberg, LIVE and in person on Friday Night SmackDown? Or maybe it was the Bella Twins getting the nod into the WWE Hall of Fame? Was it Randy Orton’s thorough thrashing of Matt Hardy? The return to the ring of The Velveteen Dream and that sweet entrance! Or maybe, it was the continued heartbreak of the Mandy-Otis coupling.

I don’t know about you, but outside of Orton, all of that played second fiddle.

Hands down, the best show of the week goes to the folks from Full Sail! NXT TakeOver: Portland dominated the WWE airwaves on the WWE Network. Champions stood tall, new tag team champs crowned on a night that looked like The Undisputed Era looked to lose all the gold, only to see Johnny Gargano turn on his friend and former foe, Tommaso Ciampa moments before he was going to get his NXT Championship back.

Across the board from in-ring to furthering storylines to crowd excitement, NXT led the way. And that’s the way it’s been lately. RAW’s been better in the past few weeks, but SmackDown has really lacked that “it” factor. That surprises me that the level of “WOW” just hasn’t been there for the blue brand, especially considering how much FOX is spending for it. That 2.4 million viewers a week is a nice, safe number, but FOX at some point will ask why the needle hasn’t moved much. Plus, just watching the show, you can see that it’s lacking the drama and needed creativity.

Simply put, imagine how much different the Road to WrestleMania would look, especially for the women if not for NXT! We wouldn’t have Rhea Ripley vs. Charlotte Flair. We wouldn’t have Shayna Baszler (ahem, possibly) against Becky Lynch. Two of the hottest stories across the brands!

With Super Showdown this Thursday in Saudi Arabia, expect things to get much clearer on the Road to WrestleMania. After all, remember, we do get the return of John Cena as well Friday night in Boston on SmackDown. Then, it’s Elimination Chamber just over one week later on March 8th.

NXT TakeOver: Portland

RESULTS

NXT North American Championship Match: Keith Lee defeated Domink Dijakovic to retain title

Street Fight: Dakota Kai defeated Tegan Nox

Finn Balor defeated Johnny Gargano

NXT Women’s Championship Match: Rhea Ripley defeated Bianca Belair to retain title

NXT Tag Team Championship Match: The BroserWeights (Matt Riddle & Pete Dunne) defeated The Undisputed Era to win the titles

NXT Championship Match: Adam Cole defeated Tommaso Ciampa to retain title

.@ShinsukeN, @WWECesaro, @BraunStrowman and @IAmEliasWWE let the music speak for itself in brutal Symphony of Destruction matchup.

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/oa2w8xAAgl

— WWE (@WWE) February 22, 2020

Star of the Week:

It’s not a person or particular person this week. It’s a match. The Symphony of Destruction Match between Braun Strowman/Elias vs. Shinsuke Nakamura/Cesaro. In just its second edition, this match was fun, physical, entertaining and all four, plus Sami Zayn, really had me invested! Unfortunately, that piano didn’t cooperate. Damn, those backs must have felt that one! Well done guys!

RAW

RESULTS

Aleister Black defeated Erick Rowan

24/7 Championship Match: Riddick Moss defeated R-Truth & Mojo Rawley in triple-threat match

Drew McIntyre defeated MVP

Bobby Lashley & Angel Garza defeated Rusev & Humberto Carrillo

Kairi Sane defeated Natalya (countout)

Ricochet defeated Karl Anderson

Kevin Owens & The Viking Raiders defeated Buddy Murphy & The Authors of Pain (DQ)

Overall:

This one just didn’t have that “it” factor either this week. The show seemed off all night. Nothing really stuck out other than Randy Orton’s deletion of Matt Hardy. This is the Road to WrestleMania and the WWE needs to start treating that way with must-see shows EVERY week. This one seemed like a take-off week instead after some very good shows.

What we loved:

Red-hot RKO – The hottest heel on the planet continues to be one Randy Orton. We thought The Viper put Matt Hardy to pasture last week, but that attack was nothing compared to a pair of conchairto shots in and out of the ring this week. Scary to think that at one point, Orton had the crowd cheering him to give Hardy one more shot. You have to wonder what Orton has in store next.

JOIN THE REVOLUTION.@FightOwensFight & The #VikingRaiders get some EXTRA back-up in the form of The #StreetProfits on #Raw! pic.twitter.com/c9PHlYpwkp

— WWE (@WWE) February 18, 2020

Substance to The Street Profits – It’s good to see the WWE finally using The Street Profits for more than just comedic fodder. Their infusion into the main even match with Seth Rollins and his Monday Night Messiah Minions gives the storyline some freshness.

No squash here – How about that! Instead of a pair of squashes for Aleister Black and Erik Rowan, we get a physical match between the two. Plus, Black gets elevated into what looks to be a mid-card match WrestleMania. Nice step up for Mr. Black.

Horror on #Raw. What has @RandyOrton done?! pic.twitter.com/73tDU6FgEU

— WWE (@WWE) February 18, 2020

Hey Lucy, you got some ‘splanin to do:

Hard-ly any help – It always bothers me when there will be a flurry of help from the locker room for some random disturbance in the ring, yet when there’s a vicious attack on a fan favorite, like this week on Matt Hardy, absolutely no one comes out to help! Why is that? Does Matt Hardy have no friends after more than two decades in the company? He was out there getting his ass and neck killed for almost ten minutes. Makes no sense. Even Humberto Carrillo has gotten help at one point.

Becky vs. Shayna – Why exactly is Becky Lynch shelling out money for what she’ll do to Shayna Baszler? Why is Baszler’s s-bomb not bleeped and is she getting the non-PG treatment on purpose? Is it me, or is the Elimination Chamber just a mere formality?

What we didn’t love:

24/7 – It seems we’ve lost some creative and fun to the once beloved 24/7 title. The past few weeks, it’s just turned into another throwaway match. I need it to return to the wild, crazy, out of the ring, defended everywhere mayhem it was the first few months.

NXT

RESULTS

NXT Cruiserweight Title Match: Jordan Devlin defeated Lio Rush to retain title

The Grizzled Young Veterans defeated Raul Mendoza & Joaquin Wilde

Non-title NXT Tag Team Match: The BroserWeights (Pete Dunne & Matt Riddle) defeated Oney Lorcan & Danny Burch

Non-title North American Title Match: Keith Lee defeated Kona Reeves

Chelsea Green defeated Kayden Carter

The Velveteen Dream defeated Roderick Strong

Overall:

Coming out what so far could be the show of the year at TakeOver: Portland, NXT delivers another solid, but lacking big moments show. A pair of champions, Keith Lee and The BroserWeights, looked strong while The Velveteen Dream steals the show, dealing another nightmarish ending to TUE with a clean win over Roderick Strong. I am VERY curious to see where Bianca Belair will land after calling out Charlotte Flair again. Belair, despite the loss at TakeOver: Portland, remains a rockstar with a tremendous upside.

What we loved:

If this is a Dream, we never wanna wake up. #WWENXT @DreamWWE pic.twitter.com/JrDk28Io1Y

— WWE (@WWE) February 20, 2020

The Dream Delights – Great to see TVD back in the ring in the main event. Match of the night between the Dream and Roderick Strong delivers on what it promised. Plus, an expected beatdown keeps the feud going.

"There can be no @JohnnyGargano in #WWENXT." – @NXTCiampa pic.twitter.com/6oRZHv9Xn5

— WWE (@WWE) February 20, 2020

Ciampa’s challenge – Not only did Tommaso Ciampa challenge former partner and nemesis Johnny Gargano’s spot in NXT, but also set up a battle next week vs. Austin Theory. Ciampa’s chomping at the bit to not only get Gargano, but another shot at Goldie and the NXT Championship.

Celebrate the cruiserweights – Jordan Devlin and Lio Rush got out Wednesday night off to a hot start with a thrilling title match start. Rush has really changed my mind on him with his latest run in NXT. Devlin has definitely taken the baton and kept the cruiserweight championship at an elevated state.

What we didn’t love:

Home not-so-sweet Home – After a capacity crowd in Portland, Oregon Sunday night at TakeOver: Portland, it was a bit of a letdown to go back to Full Sail Wednesday night. I’ll say it once and I’ll say it every week until it changes, NXT has to go big or stay home (and stay safe). Staying safe isn’t going to cut it against All Elite Wrestling, who continues to bang it out in bigtime arenas on a week-in, week-out basis.

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

The Usos and The New Day defeated The Miz, John Morrison, Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode

Symphony of Destruction Match: Braun Strowman & Elias defeated Shinsuke Nakamura & Cesaro

Daniel Bryan defeated Heath Slater

#1 Contender’s Match Smackdown Women’s Championship: Naomi defeated Carmella

What we loved:

Tag-team toughness – LOVED a little smack talk between The Usos and The New Day before a good ol’ fashioned tussle to start the night with The Miz, John Morrison, Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode. Always quality stuff from these 8 men in the ring! Plus, always a little tease for a fight down the road if a turn’s needed.

Standing O for Symphony – LOVED all the musical destruction between Elias, Braun Strowman, Cesaro and Shinsuke Nakamura. Tag teams are ruling the night and count me as one if they wanted to push Elias and Strowman as future tag champs. Good chemistry and the crowd loves both of them at the moment.

"@heelziggler is such a piece of trash." – @TheMarkHenry Poor @otiswwe #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/chp7to7ZXy

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) February 22, 2020

Stalking Otis – Otis is about to snap my friends! Simmer. Simmer. Boil! It’s coming, folks! Mr. Ziggler is about to get a whooping! Can’t wait to see where they take it before getting that feel good moment we all know is coming, but will all stand tall and enjoy when it comes!

Oh so predictable:

.@Goldberg encounters #TheFiend @WWEBrayWyatt for the first time on #SmackDown! pic.twitter.com/jH7bgddbmN

— WWE (@WWE) February 22, 2020

Goldberg spears The Fiend….and that’s it – I get that you have to put some kind of notion that Goldberg could actually beat Bray Wyatt/The Fiend at Super Showdown. But, it was oh so predictable in how it was laid out, complete with Goldberg telling us how it would happen. There’s ZERO chance The Fiend loses at Super Showdown on the Road to WrestleMania.

Meh:

Naomi vs. Carmella – Flat and clunky at times. Don’t get me wrong, it was fine, but for a main event, I need to be wowed. If not, it’s just there. Kind of like this whole episode of SmackDown. It was just there.

Bryan vs. Slater II – Why?

Parting shots:

Congrats to the Bella Twins as the newest announced inductees to the WWE Hall of Fame!

How about the latest rumor – WWE in talks with ESPN to show their PPV’s on the ESPN+ streaming service. Could be a big blow to the WWE Network, but worth guaranteed money for the WWE and more mainstream publicity from ESPN. Something to watch as this one could develop quickly – BEFORE WrestleMania.

Super Showdown is next Thursday in Saudi Arabia at 12pm (ET) on the WWE Network.

WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar vs. Ricochet

Universal Championship: The Fiend vs. Goldberg

Smackdown Women’s Championship – Bayley vs. Naomi

Smackdown Tag Team Championship: The New Day vs. The Miz & John Morrison

Raw Tag Team Championship: Seth Rollins & Buddy Murphy vs. The Street Profits

Steel Cage Match: Roman Reigns vs. King Corbin

Tuwaiq Trophy Gauntlet Match: AJ Styles vs. R-Truth vs. Rusev vs. Bobby Lashley vs. Erik Rowan vs. Andrade (if he’s back off Wellness Suspension)

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at [email protected]. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots and Red Sox fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

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nightstareternal · 7 years ago

Text

DL Character Meme Tag

I was tagged by @littleladysuzanne. I always look forward to your tags <3

Rules: List your top 10 favorite DL characters (it doesn’t just have to be the dateable guys, any characters are fair game) in order. And the answer the questions. Blank questions at the end.

1. Shin

2. Carla

3. Azusa

4. Kanato

5. Kou

6. Ruki

7. Shu

8. Ayato

9. Subaru

10. Laito

1. Number 5 (Kou) has decided they want to completely change up their wardrobe and they take you shopping with them so you can give your opinions on what new outfits they should buy. What sort of clothes are you going to recommend?

I'm just going to be blunt when I say I have no fashion sense. I would seriously be no help in this matter 😅

2. You walk into your room one day to find number 2 (Carla) standing on your bed, dancing to your favourite song while wearing nothing but your favourite underwear. How do you react?

Omg I can just imagine the horror on Carla's face when he is caught! XD I would honestly probably be too shocked and dumbfounded for several moments until most likely Carla snaps me back into reality to quickly leave the room.

3. Number 7 (Shu) has to go to the dentist but they’re adamantly refusing. How would you persuade them to go?

The best but unsafe bet is to take his music away. He wouldn't be able to get it back unless he went.

4. You lose a bet with number 6 (Ruki) and now have to be their personal maid for a day. Do you go through with it or do you try to get out of it?

Why do I feel this would be fitting for Ruki? Knowing Ruki, this could either go smoothly enough or horribly wrong. >_<

5. Number 4 (Kanato) takes you to see a horror movie however they end up getting absolutely terrified halfway through and bury their head into your shoulder. How do you react?

I could see Kanato reacting in anger and throw a tantrum every time he is scared. The only way to help him calm down is by giving him his favorite sweets. He would also insist that I get some for Teddy too.

6. Number 9 (Subaru) surprises you with a cake they’ve baked especially for you. Are you going to eat it?

I would be genuinely surprised by the gesture. As long as I feel it's ok to eat, I wouldn't mind to take a slice and then share the cake with Subaru too ^_^

7. Number 8 (Ayato) accidentally manages to completely trash their room, to the point where it’s uninhabitable. They don’t have anywhere to stay while it’s being repaired and so they ask if they can room with you for the next couple of weeks. How do you respond?

If it's Ayato, I would feel a little weary about it but I doubt he would give me the option to refuse. As long as he doesn't trash my room as well, I suppose he could stay over.

8. Number 1 (Shin) has decided to learn how to play the trumpet. The downside to this is that, for some reason, they’ve taken to practicing right outside your room around the time you normally go to sleep. What are you going to do?

Shin, I love you but a girl has got to sleep. If I don't sleep, I can probably be just as stubborn and grumpy as he can be at times.

9. Number 10 (Laito) recently purchased a cat onesie and they’ve insisted on wearing it everywhere over the past few days. They’ve now purchased a matching onesie for you and they’re being very insistent that you wear it and go out in public together. What do you do?

Why can I see this scenario happening with Laito? It seems like something he would do and he would have to force it on me to wear it in public.

10. Number 4 (Kanato) is still scared after watching that horror film with you. It’s now late at night and they’re demanding that you let them sleep in your bed with you. What do you do?

I would do my best to make room on my bed and let him sleep next to me. We would then fall asleep as we cuddle with our precious teddy bears <3 (and yes, I still sleep with stuffed animals at night)

11. Number 3 (Azusa) confesses to you that they want to be an Olympic gymnast but struggle to even touch their toes. What sort of advice do you give to them?

Since he struggles with even touching his toes, I would recommend practicing Yoga to strengthen both his flexibility and core strength. Then it would be a matter of building some muscles but most of this could be built as he takes gymnastics lessons.

12. Number 7 (Shu) decides they want to paint a picture of you. They make you sit still for hours while they work on it, only when they finally reveal it to you, the image bears absolutely no resemblance to you. They ask you for your opinion, what do you say?

This could go different ways. If the painting still has artistic qualities to it, I would probably like it. If it doesn't, I probably wouldn't be too happy with the end result.

13. Number 5 (Kou) buys a large pet python and they try to talk you into keeping it in your room. How do you respond?

Kou... it's not going to happen.

14. You go on a Ferris wheel with number 6 (Ruki) but when you reach the top, it stops moving and stays still for a long time. There seems to be some kind of fault, which means you’re trapped with number 6 till someone can get it working again. What do you do?

Depending on certain circumstances, I could be calm or worried. If it's only for a short while and the seat doesn't rock a lot, then I would probably be fine. Though if it's a old carnival Ferris wheel, Ruki would have to sit through and listen to my panicked self. 😅

15. Number 2 (Carla) proposes you play a game of twister. Regardless of whether you want to or not, you get dragged into it. As you’re playing, you notice number 2 seems to be touching you a lot more than necessary. Do you call them out on it, or take some other course of action?

I would probably make a casual mention of it but Carla would most likely dismiss it as a foolish thought.

16. You’re getting changed in your room when you suddenly hear a noise from your wardrobe. You open the wardrobe to find number 3 (Azusa) standing in it. How do you react?

I would be pretty confused to why he would be in there but knowing Azusa, I can see him just showing up in random places at random times.

17. Number 1 (Shin) manages to accidentally handcuff themselves to you. They don’t have a key and for some reason, no matter what either of you do, you can’t seem to get them off. What are you going to do?

Considering I'm someone who needs their own perosnal space, I can't see this going well for long even if it's with Shin.

18. Number 10 (Laito) presents you with a bouquet of roses and declares that they have feelings for you. How do you react?

I would have to politely turn him down. Hopefully he wouldn't try to seduce me after the rejection. >.>;

19. You go swimming with number 8 (Ayato). You’re having a great time until they pull you aside and tell you that they’ve somehow lost their swimwear. Are you going to help them and if so how?

When no one is looking, I would quickly toss him a towel to cover himself with. If there's no luck finding his swimwear, I would go buy a new pair to replace the one he lost.

20. Number 5 (Kou) wrote a love letter to you and slipped it into what they believed to be your locker, however the locker actually belongs to number 8 (Ayato) and they didn’t bother writing your name on the letter. How does number 8 react when they find it?

I feel like Ayato would get a good laugh from reading it depending on how much is confessed in the letter.

21. Number 7 (Shu) gets very very drunk and tries to give number 3 (Azusa) a strip tease. What happens?

I could only see this going wrong in the long end...

22. Number 6 (Ruki) and number 2 (Carla) get into a rap battle and they want you to be the judge. Who do you think is going to win and why?

I can honestly only see this ending in a tie. Carla would probably through a fit knowing he tied with a vampire XD

23. Number 1 (Shin) accidentally ruins number 9’s (Subaru) most prized possession and begs for your help in covering it up. What do you do?

I seriously would not want to get involved in this. I'm sure Shin could hold his own just fine against Subaru but I wouldn't want to face his wrath >_<

24. You wake up in between number 4 (Kanato) and number 10 (Laito) with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Do you have any idea about what might have occurred and what are you going to do now?

If I have no reason to feel like anything more went on, I would most likely just lie there confused and wouldn't move until I remembered how I got there.

25. You go on a camping trip with number 9 (Subaru), number 6 (Ruki) and number 3 (Azusa). What sort of stuff do the four of you do together?

If the weather is nice, going on a walk through the woods would be nice. Then as soon as it gets dark, it's campfire time. ^^

26. Number 9 (Subaru) and number 4 (Kanato) have somehow swapped bodies. How do they react and are you going to try to help them get back to normal?

I could see Kanato throwing a fit because of the situation and want to get back to his own body while Subaru would be moody with some furniture meeting their untimely end. R.I.P.

27. You’re playing a game of Monopoly with number 5 (Kou), number 7 (Shu), and number 10 (Laito). Who wins and who goes bankrupt and storms off in a rage?

I can just imagine Laito's face as he wins the game, Shu could care less he went bankrupt, while Kou would forever remember this loss and will plan his revenge. Gotta keep the wins and losses even for him ;)

28. You go on a hike with number 8 (Ayato) and number 2 (Carla). Number 8 is in charge of the map and they manage to get you completely lost in the middle of nowhere. What are you going to do?

Despite not liking the situation, the only choice would be to keep on walking until we find our way back or until someone comes find us. Hopefully the former would happen first OAO

29. Number 1 (Shin) has given up on learning the trumpet and has taken up the banjo instead. They write a song and play it for you but it sounds beyond terrible. How do you react?

I would be touched by the gesture and probably couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth. I've never been good in situations like this 😅

30. Number 1 (Shin) and number 2 (Carla) get in a fight over you. Number 2 manages to win and asks you for your hand in marriage. How do you respond?

Talk about a battle for the pride and future of the Founders. I feel even if I turned down Carla's proposal, I would probably be left with no choice but to marry him. I'm so sorry Shin ;A;

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