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otogetranslations · 5 years

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Announcing of Dropping DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE;BLOOD

To sum things up:

Someone leaked the Diabolik Lovers Limited V Edition patch, posting it publicly despite all our warnings and requests. Thus we are following through with our original policy.

We’re stopping every projects related to Diabolik Lovers, including further support for Limited V Edition, and there won’t be a patch for More;Blood.

Collar x Malice Unlimited will still be released, but privately. After all, you guys will get the English version of it from Aksys for the switch next year!

I (the leader of otogetranslations) will still be helping other translators with their projects: Brothers Conflict, Hakuoki SSL. How the patch is gonna be distributed is up to their respective leaders (coquettishcat for Hakuoki SSL, and PassionandBrilliance for Brothers Conflict).

No more Black Wolves Saga. This project I (Reishiki) started by asking permission to use existing translation from orlandoblue @tumblr, Siberia (twitter.com/bakemeatz). The patch of Black Wolves Saga Bloody Nightmare is to be completed soon. But it’s no more.

Read on if you wanted to know what really happened:

As you all know, we released DIABOLIK LOVERS LIMITED V EDITION fan translation patch this August 16th, 2019 for homebrew enabled/hacked Playstation vita, and only for people that have proof or purchasing the game.

There are over 50 people who showed us the proof of purchasing the game and they received the patch for free. All we asked was for you to actually buy the game before you can play it with a hacked playstation vita.

Our 30-people team worked on the patch for 10 months. We only used outsource translation for 8/277 total scripts. Our in-house hacker did the romhacking process, our in-house proofreaders proofed the translation, our recruited translators worked on the translation. Everything was done by us and it’s our team effort. So we have the right to decide how we’re gonna distribute it.

However, on August 20th, 2019. Rojaaalice on reddit r/vitapiracy posted a thread, asking the patch to be given to them for free (without purchasing the game). A lot of people who frequent this subreddit accused us of being Gatekeepers, while all we’re doing is asking for proof of purchasing the game (not the patch, the patch is 100% free). Is buying the game you play wrong? Is asking for a proof of purchasing something you play gatekeeping, when we could have chosen to not share the patch at all in the first place?

I don’t think so.

But, this person, SilicaAndPina (https://twitter.com/SiliCart) is not happy with how we distribute our patch. He said that we should keep the vita hacking scene free, we can’t ask for people to buy anything to be able to get the PATCH that we worked on. He doesn’t play otome games in general, and he doesn’t even know what otome games is.

He started to trick me into giving the patch to him, by making a fake proof of purchase with a cloned gmail account. I noticed the proof was fake and didn’t give it to him. Then he got mad and sent this (WARNING: GORE IMAGE) to me. He stated that he will leak the patch eventually.

He attempted to acquire the patch once again with a different fake proof this time. I also noticed this and we trolled him by sending him a FAKE patch. We left the prologue in English and put ridiculous/crack fanfiction in other parts. He thought it was real and distributed it, declared he has won over us.

He thought he tricked us but no, we weren’t being tricked by his half-assed effort.

Today, August 22nd, there is someone from the DiaLover Fandom that received the real patch sent it over to him. I’m sorry to say that the patch would be leaked eventually, one way or another, because if someone really wants to leak it, they could buy the physical copy, take a photo with it and send it to us. Then they can sell the game to get the money back.

So, we lost.

But to the one that sent the patch to him, lost to the malice of this world, and not to him.

I had envisioned this would happen when I first started the project. So I’m not surprised. I had a small ray of hope this wouldn’t happen so soon, but I was wrong.

As we’ve stated before, we will cease every project translation related to DIABOLIK LOVERS.

No more patches of DIABOLIK LOVERS will be made from us, at least when I’m the leader of that project (as well as the leader of otogetranslations): Reishiki.

I’m proud to say our patch was enjoyed and praised by people that bought the game and received the patch.

I (Reishiki) will still be supporting other translators if they need it, but I won’t start any new project from now on (in which could be AMNESIA LATER/CROWD/WORLD, VARIABLE BARRICADE - these games I completed extracting the texts with our inhouse hacker’s help, and I planned to announce we would start one of these projects soon. But… I’m sorry to say that it’s no more. At least it won’t be made available to the public.)

Thank you everyone for your support.

These are our team members opinions:

JokerTrap-Ran: I think I just lost faith in the community as a whole again, coming back after 4 years. I hope you’re happy! This was really demoralising and I hope ya’ll had fun putting us down like that. I’m not one for drama and honestly I’d very much like to stay out of it considering the bad medicine bashing that happened on otome reddit about 3 years ago. I’ll continue releasing translations for blog’s followers but that’s it. I’m whimsical, and most of my followers know it. I pick things and I drop it all the same.

Khikari: For those who thinks that what we have committed is blasphemy and should be shut down for this, great, please take the time to learn Japanese yourself. Or learn to care about other people with emotions for once in you life. Demoralising people who were willing to work endless hours for free with just one condition sure is satisfying, isn’t it? It really hurt all of us. For those who genuinely cared and are saddened by this post, I am sorry and I wish the best for you all. I know that the few doesn’t represent all but this is a massive motivation killer, and I don’t need this drama in my life. From now on, private translations all the way! Also, Silica, attacking an idea is fine, but attacking people with malicious intent is stepping out of line. Enjoy being a rock specimen.

LoliChan195: I hope you are happy with what you have done! We only wanted to bring this out for people that had difficulties playing the game, and also help support Rejet by having more people buy their games. Its people like you that cause all these game companies to go bankrupt! (Also SiliCar, you sick fuck. Who sends pictures like that!? XD you’re probably just some edgy 12yr old XD Besides, who says WE WILL NOT FORGIVE XD what a dumbass! And is it that hard to search on google about the game? Why would we make it so it specifically needs to be the limited edition?!?! ) Seriously, the people who attacked us for putting the rule out are just as bad, like can’t you just wait and buy the game? Or even if u just pirate it, read online translations. Its not that hard!

Hermy: Nothing much to say, except, ya’ll could have totes pirated the game and played it along the translations available on the net. Welp, I hope you don’t dislike that idea too much because that’s what ya’ll gonna need to do if ya’ll wanna play the sequels.

PS: the MB translations available on the net are riddled with errors, but by all means have fun with them :)

Anon: Oh yes, silica? Perhaps you should just lead on with your true intentions next time instead of trying to honey your words and do some "re-con" for dots, yeah?

Marzi: I'm a bit numb to this situation at this point, but it is disheartening to know Silica was so intent on distributing our translations that he didn't stop even when we threatened to cease all translations. It wasn't like he was ever going to play the game - he just felt so personally offended by the fact that we were "gatekeeping" for some reason - which, in my opinion, is a bit of an immature reason to ruin a translation group. You can't argue that we're "unrightfully holding something when we don't have the intellectual rights," when you're bypassing all copyright laws as well in wanting to post it PUBLICALLY. But what's done is done - whoever manages to get a copy of this, I hope you enjoy it. Please know so much effort and passion went into these translations, and that we loved working on this project every bit of the way. If the game leaves you antsy for More Blood well LOL you know who prevented that from happening.

Sonic-nancy-fan: I never knew someone could have such an illogical mindset. Silica/PSSDude made the original base repatch program, and we used one that someone had edited and added to (which Silica was fine with). But, because he made the original one, that means he feels like HE can getekeep all uses of variations of it. This would be like saying people can’t use paper to make a paper airplane because the original creator of paper said no, or you can’t print manga because Gutenberg said no. Also, who in the world thinks they can take a moral high-ground by telling us to promote piracy? Patches are already a sort of grey area, so we were trying to take the most legal method available while still making a patch. I know in modern society, piracy is very common, but I can’t imagine your average person would call us in the wrong for trying to hinder piracy. God forbid we try to get people to buy Diabolik Lovers. I can’t say I’m shocked as I expected it to get leaked sometime. I’m just saddened at certain people’s general hate and unyielding desire to leak it. So, I don’t blame the community as a whole, nor do I feel any malice toward the community (we had a lot of people buy the game and get excited). I’m just mad at very specific spiteful people. Also, if I ever hear someone say “the scene” as much as Silica, I’m going to go nuts. It sounds like something the “cool guy” in an 80’s show would say.

#diabolik lovers #otogetranslations #announcement

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navalcriminalimagines · 5 years

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What are we?

Hi guys! This is my first NCIS work! I’ve been thinking about it for a very long time and I thought it was time to write it down. I really hope you’ll enjoy it!! Please, tell me what you think!!

Prompt: your best friend McGee becomes a dad and it makes you think about what you really want

Gibbs x Reader, Pride x Reader

Words: 3,339

“Y/N?” McGee called you for the third time. You were so focused on the little girl in your arms, you completely avoid everyone around you. You finally heard your name and hummed in answer, without raising your head. You couldn’t stop staring at Morgane and how beautiful she is. “Y/N, I know my daughter is beautiful but can you look at me for a sec?” Tim asked and you finally looked at him. You also saw Delilah on her bed, with John in her arms, smiling at you.

“Is everything okay?” You wondered. “Maybe you want me to leave the four of you alone?” You exclaimed, cause you realized that everyone was gone except you. And you haven’t put Morgane down since you picked her up an hour ago.

“Not yet. But soon,” Delilah joked to reassure you. “Tim and I have something to ask you,” You looked at them, questioned.

“Do you want to be their godmother?” Tim finally asked. You stayed stoned for a few seconds until the information came to your brain. If you weren’t carrying one of the twins, you probably would have jumped in the air, excitingly. But instead, you simply looked down at Morgane again to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “I’d love to you,” you tried to say as casual as possible. But Tim was no fool and he was your best friend for over 10 years now.

“Y/N, are you crying?” Tim asked. You turned around to the window, avoiding the newly parents. “No,” you lied, crying.

That night, you stayed awake for long hours, probably more than usual. Your work at NCIS prevent you from sleeping correctly since you first started, but you were used to it by now. You started as an Agent the same year as Timothy, the two of you were the Probies and probably due to being a woman, Tony gave you less hard times than your coworker. You grew up with Tim, you became adults and good agents together. And now? He is married to a wonderful lady and father of twins. You? You are just in the same place you were ten years ago, single, no kids and in love with your boss. At first, it was just a crush and you thought it would go away, but it never did. It increased. Which explains why you’ve never been able to date a man more than 6 months. It always end with guys breaking up because of your job, how invested you are in it, and two guys found out about you being in love with Gibbs.

Why can you not move on for those feelings? It’s ruining your life. Everything you thought you’d have by the time you’re 35, you don’t. You and Gibbs built a very special relationship through the years. Sometimes, it looks like a romantic relationship, with flirtation and tenderness, but sometimes, it feels like friendship. You figured out everyone knows about your feelings for him and the relationship he doesn’t have with anyone else, but no one dare to say anything about it over than casual jokes, like calling him your ”work husband”. Husband. It sounds so wonderfully when you think about Gibbs. But you’re not a redhead, like his ex wives.

You take your godmother’s role very seriously. You spend as much time as possible with the twins, helping Tim and Delilah every time they need it. Just like tonight, the twins are now five months old and the parents could really used a date night so you offered to babysit. The beginning of the evening went good, you managed to feed John first and then Morgane. Thankfully, Delilah gave them a bath before they left so that was something you didn’t have to do. But putting them into bed was complicated. Neither of them wanted to sleep, and when one cries, the other cries too. Rocking the two at the same time was impossible, they were moving so much while crying, you were scared to let them drop. You considered calling Tim but you didn’t want to ruin their night, so you could the other person that came to your mind. You can never forget how great Gibbs is with kids, no matter how old they are.

By the time your boss showed up at the apartment, you had vomit all over your shirt - thanks to Morgane - and the twins were still crying in their room. Gibbs laughed when he saw your face and followed the sounds. He picked up the baby girl and started to rock her in his arms. ”Take John and follow my lead,” he ordered and you did so.

Rocking John, you couldn’t help but stare at Gibbs with Morgane. He was so kind and soft, he’s meant to be a father. A part of you understand he doesn’t want to have other kids after what happened to Kelly, but your brain just imagined what if those twins were yours and his. What if the two of you were married.

”Uncle Gibbs is here, baby girl,” he whispered to Morgane who was calming down, just like John. ”Did aunt Y/N cook for you? Is that why you’re so mad?” He joked.

”Hey!!” You exclaimed, offended. It’s not a secret how bad of a cooker you are. Or, were. Because of all the teasing through the years, you took cooking class a few months ago. But nobody knows about it. You kept thinking about how great it would be to cook again for Gibbs without setting his kitchen on fire. ”I’m much better than I used to,” you said. ”Right, my loves?” You said to the twins who were falling asleep.

”Is that even possible?”

”Let me show you whenever you’re free,”

”I’m always free. But at your place, I don’t want to rebuild my kitchen again,” he smiled at you, teasingly and you rolled your eyes. ”Let’s try to put them in bed,”

As softly as possible, you and Gibbs put the twins in bed. They seemed to be in deep sleep now, but you know they may wake up in a few hours. You let a small light in their room and went back to the kitchen with Gibbs on your toes. You tried to wipe the vomit stain away from your shirt but it was obviously ruined. Gibbs took the towel from your hands, wet it and replaced what you were doing. The stain is right above your left breast, his body was so close to yours, just like its been so many times. His smell was intoxicating like always.

”Thanks for the help,” you whispered.

”What kind of godfather would I be if I didn’t show up?” He said. And your heart skipped a beat. Tim and Delilah has been telling you they haven’t agreed on who to choose as the godfather yet. But obviously they did? Since when?

”You are— I didn’t know you were their godfather,” you confessed.

”They asked me the same day as you but I wasn’t sure I wanted to have this responsibility,” Gibbs said, still wiping your shirt.

”Why?”

He hummed but didn’t say anything. He is not a big talker, everybody knows that but he also knows sometimes he doesn’t have to talk with you. You just understand. You know things. And that’s something Gibbs really loves about you, between many other things. Of course, he loves you. He has for many years now. Which is exactly why he never tried anything. He avoids love since Shannon died. Sometimes, he wished you’d leave NCIS, before realizing he absolutely can’t live without you. Whenever you mentioned a date or a boyfriend, it felt like someone shoot him right in his heart. Selfishly, he is glad you haven’t date anyone in almost two years now. It feels like you’re all his, even if there’s no romantic relationships between you, or at least, not clearly.

”So— we are godparents of the twins,” you smiled.

”That, we are,” he answered, smirking.

”Is that all we are?” You whispered without restraining yourself. In the same second, you wish he didn’t hear it.

”What?”

”Nothing. Have you eaten?” You asked, taking a few steps away from him.

”Not yet. You?”

”I’ve been babysitting for the last three hours, so no, I didn’t even have time to pee,”

”Very romantic,” he smiled.

”It’s not a date, I don’t have to be romantic. Plus, I’m a total mess right now. But— I’m going to show how my cooking skills improved,” you searched into Tim and Delilah’s kitchen the ingredients you need to make a nice dish.

”You’re never a mess, even full of mud,” he laughed, recalling the memory of you falling into the mud during an investigation years ago.

”Oh my god, don’t remind me that day please.” You started to cut onions. You could feel Gibbs’ gaze on you but you tried to avoid it. He intensely watched you perfectly cutting the onions.

”Y/N?” He asked.

”Yeah?”

”Did you learn how to cook?” You felt your cheeks turning into shades of pink but you didn’t say anything, just smile.

Gibbs quickly offered his help and you cook together, or at least you gave him orders. Once it was done, you settled on the couch, set the coffee table and used Tim’s Netflix account. Months ago, you spent the night at Gibbs’ and you made him watch La Casa de Papel. Actually he pretended to like it, but what he enjoys is to cuddle with you under blankets and watching you enjoying the show.

That night feels like you and Gibbs are parents who enjoys a peaceful and calm night. After eating what you cooked, you got closer to him, and he put his arm around to let you rest on his chest. This is where you belong. You know it deep inside you. You belong with him. Why can’t he see it?

Around 1am, Tim and Delilah came back home to find you and your boss sleeping on the couch, your head on Gibbs’ chest and his arms holding you close, with Netflix still on. They smile at each other and Delilah went to check on the twins while Tim woke you up. ”What time is it?” You mumbled and when Gibbs spotted his male agent, he immediately sat up.

”1am. Everything went well?”

”Yeah, I save your place,” Your boss said and you hit his arm.

”Now, I have to clean the entire apartment tomorrow,” Tim said. You looked at him, confused. The apartment was not a terrible mess. ”I lost the bet. Delilah was sure you’d call Gibbs for help,” She came back at the same moment.

”Thank you for your trust, Mrs McGee.” You said, falsely offended and she laughed.

”I know what it’s like to take care of two babies, you have no idea how many times I want to call Tim for help,”

”Tim can take some time off, you know,” Gibbs said to Delilah, before turning his attention to you. ”Ride home?”

You nodded, went to kiss the twins and left with Gibbs.

”Do you mind sleeping at my house?” He asked. You live further than him, and you could see on his face he just wants to go back to sleep.

”Fine by me,” you agreed.

His house is practically yours, to be honest. There are some of your clothes somewhere and you just do whatever you want to do, when you want to do it. Which explains why you directly went to his bedroom to grab one of his shirts and you found a legging that belongs to you. Downstairs, Jethro was almost sleeping on his couch, you considered go upstairs to sleep in his bed but his voice stopped you before you left the room.

”Where you going?”

”In your bed— if that’s okay?”

”Come next to me, instead,” he opened his arms.

The small size of the couch forced the two of you to be really close, not that you mind. Apparently, he doesn’t either. He kissed the top of your head, one of his hand was stroking your hair while the other was on your back. Your face was buried in his neck. ”Jethro?” You whispered, and he hummed in answer.

”What are we?”

He took a moment to answer. ”Coworkers? Friends? Best friends?” You could feel tears forming in your eyes and you sat up, turning your back to him.

”Is that it?” You asked with a small voice but he didn’t answer. ”I want more, J. I need more,” you confessed. You don’t really know why it’s coming out right now, tonight but it does and you can’t stop yourself. ”I love you. A lot. And not like a friend— Tonight with the twins, that’s what I want. But with kids of our own. I mean— you’re the only reason I’m still single. Cause no matter who I’m with, you’re all I can think about. You’re the only one I want, Leroy.” Tears were now streaming down your face and you couldn’t turn around to look at him. He hasn’t move. He hasn’t spoke. ”If you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally okay. But you have to tell me. It’s been ten years and I can’t keep going like this. I need something concrete, something real, you know?” Still nothing coming from him. Not a move, not a word. You stayed a moment like this, waiting for him to do something, anything. But he didn’t. So you stood up, take a look at him but he avoided your gaze. You sighed and grabbed your things. You stopped for a moment before leaving, giving him another chance to speak but he stayed silent, so you left.

The next week seemed to be too long and awkward. You and Gibbs barely talked, a part of what needed to be say to do the work. A few people asked you what was going on but you just raised your shoulders and stayed silent. Nobody needed to know what a ridiculous declaration you gave to Jethro. It could be like nothing happened, like you haven’t say anything, but he changed. He’s avoiding you. No smile, no looks, no time alone. Nothing. And everyday you feel worst than the day before.

A new case came in and you had to work with the New Orleans team. Thanks god, you thought. It will change the mood from the past few days and you could used the distraction from Dwayne and Tammy. You already met them, you even spent around two weeks in there town. They are completely different from your squad. Work hard and having a lot of fun. One night there, you got drunk at Dwayne’s bar and almost hook up with him if he hadn’t stop you.

“You’re drunk, I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret this,” he told you back then. The next morning, you regretted to have ridiculously kissed him. But a part of you regretted not to have sex with him too.

“Hello my darlin’” Dwayne greeted you. You literally jumped from your desk to hug him, he kissed your cheek and you did the same. You hugged Tammy too while Dwayne said hello to the rest of the team. Him and Gibbs are old friends, they started together in NCIS.

“What’s happening to the Marine haircut?” Dwayne joked. Gibbs hasn’t been to the hairdresser lately, and you found him even more attractive like this. But you can’t tell him, of course.

You all quickly had a brief update on the case, but it was getting late already so Gibbs called it off for the night. ”I guess you’re sleeping on my couch?” Your boss said to Dwayne. ”Gregorio, you staying at Y/N’s,” Tammy looked at you to be sure it was okay. Of course it is, but the fact that Gibbs didn’t ask bothered you.

”Boss, what if I’m not alone tonight?!” You lied. You secretly hoped it would make him jealous but nothing appeared on his face, he stayed neutral just like he always does.

”Aren’t you?” He simply answered.

”I guess now I’m not, for sure,”

”Good.”

Gibbs started to walk to the elevator, but Dwayne didn’t follow yet. ”I thought we could have dinner all together?” The New Orleans boss said. Gibbs turned around, apparently not interested in that offer.

”I’d love to,” you smiled to Dwayne. ”Tammy?”

”I’m in!” She answered.

Tim declined the invitation, Delilah and the twins were waiting for him. Ellie joined in, as well as Nick, Reeves and Abby. Usually, the squad never met to have dinner or just a drink like this. Gibbs reluctantly accepted after Dwayne made him to.

Gibbs kept ignoring you, so you started to drink. A lot. You hoped it would make you stop looking at him, searching for anything on his face, in his moves. Eventually, it made you flirty with Dwayne just like you were in New Orleans. There were laughs, looks and small gestures. You quickly were on your fourth mojito, you felt dizzy but at least, you didn’t care about Gibbs sitting right in front of you. All your attention was on Dwayne and all of his was on you. ”Wanna dance?” D whispered in your ear. You smiled, grabbed his hand and walked to the dancefloor. It was a sexy dance, Dwayne’s body was against yours, his hands traveled your back and waist, while yours touched his torso and neck. One moment, one of his hand was almost on your butt, but he stopped himself before going further. You laughed, ”I don’t mind you touching my ass. I can’t remember the last time someone did it,”

”I’d love to, especially without the fabric between our skins— but I can feel a lot of eyes on us,” he said in your ear.

”How about you stay at my place tonight and Tammy goes at Gibbs’” you offered, flirtatious.

”Hmm— I’m not sure Gregorio would like that,”

”Then, you two at my place, but we’ll have to be quiet,” you smirked, your mouth was almost touching his.

”Y/N, you’re drunk,” he said. ”Would you still want to have sex with me without any alcohol?”

”I could prove it to you, tomorrow morning,”

Dwayne snorted, still swaying with you but the music was now a slow dancing. You stayed in his arms for a moment before he took a step away, ”Wait, my driver’s taking off,”

You turned around to see Gibbs leaving the bar. Dwayne chased him and you don’t know why but you followed them. They were already talking when you reached for them, you were standing behind Gibbs who hasn’t seen you unlike Dwayne.

“She’ll drive you,” you heard Gibbs say, bitterly.

“Is there a problem, Jethro? Don’t like what you saw?”

“What? You almost fucking her on the dance floor? I loved it,” he answered sarcastically.

“It’s my fault you don’t have the guts to tell her how you feel? She’s so into you. Why do you think she drunk that much and flirt with me? Because you’re a stupid stubborn pain in the ass,” Gibbs stayed silent. “Fight your fears or let her go,”

By the time they ended their little fight, you were ugly crying behind Gibbs. You’re pretty sure he knew you were there from the beginning. Maybe he used Dwayne so you could hear some explanations? Of course he is afraid. He was so in love once and she got killed, with their little girl. He can’t take that risk again. He is too afraid.

“He’s right, J.” You spoke up. “If you don’t want to be with me, let me go. And I mean— fire me.” He turned around to face you. You were about to take back what you just said but you didn’t. It may be now or never.

“Fine,” he breathed out. “Clear your desk first thing in the morning,” he said before leaving you — and Dwayne — on the sidewalk.

#ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fandom #ncis x reader #jethro gibbs #timothy mcgee #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #dwayne pride imagine #dwayne pride x reader #ncis nola #tammy gregorio #ncis reader insert #ncis fic

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Mushroom Hunting at the End of the World

Getty Images

While the rest of the country focused on something other than the forest floor, I started foraging for chanterelles

I’d been staring at the ground too long. That’s most of what foraging is, by the way. It’s ignoring the blue sky and the trees to focus your gaze on the dirt. I was walking through cobwebs, surveying the woodland floor for almost an hour, when I finally saw one: a tiny, pale chanterelle mushroom sticking up near the trail’s edge. It looked sickly, or at the very least elderly. Perhaps it was a sign that this section of the woods was untraveled, or maybe nobody had ever thought to pluck it from its habitat.

I peeled it from the ground with my paring knife and placed it into my netted, purple sack, which once housed grocery-store red onions. This lonely mushroom wasn’t the haul, mind you, but rather an indicator. When one chanterelle appears, more will follow. A few steps off the trail and they emerged in droves. Soon, my bag was filled with corpulent, spore-bearing fungi — big chanterelles with deep-orange hues and fantastical shapes, like something a Nintendo animator might draw.

Walking back with my giant bag of wild mushrooms, I ran into a couple, the first people I’d seen that day. We all scrambled to put on our masks at the distant sight of one another. “You get some chanties?” the man said in his familiar, spectacularly unusual Pittsburgh accent. “It’s a gold mine out there,” I said, trying unconsciously to disguise any hints of that same Pennsylvanian elocution. After they disappeared back into the woods, I put my mask in my pocket, where it stayed for the rest of the hike. For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

A few years back I had tasted some wild mushroom conserva courtesy of my cousin, Andy, during a trip to my hometown in Pennsylvania. Andy is a budding locavore, a self-taught forager, and a mad scientist in the kitchen. His passion is infectious. Eighty percent of the meat he consumes, he hunts himself. He cures venison and butchers whole pigs in his garage.

That first spoonful of Andy’s mushrooms, meaty chanterelles salted in a strainer, then simmered in white vinegar with gothic-looking thyme and peppercorns, is preserved in my mind, so much so that I can access that memory whenever I want. The dim lighting in my parents’ dining room, Andy standing in the kitchen with his arms confidently folded, the sound of the Mason jar lid spinning loose, and the immense joy of my first bite — stocky chanterelle mushrooms, piquant vinegar, gentle aromatics, and then the brilliant opulence of olive oil, used to preserve the mixture.

I asked Andy if I could take a jar of them back home to Los Angeles, and he obliged. Every so often, I unscrewed the lid for a small bite. I would close my eyes and feel the cold air in my hometown. If I listened carefully, I could hear the train whistles in the distance. Those mushrooms became a portal to my hometown, a culinary object so emotionally resonant, so distinct from the food I bought at my grocery store in California, that I always longed to forage and conserve a jar of my own.

I began to miss rural Pennsylvania as the pandemic encroached into summer. Like a lot of people, I felt trapped in the big city, and so in June, I went home. In Pennsylvania, everybody’s houses are set at a distance, but everyone barters home provisions, ranging from venison pastrami to crooked cucumbers to gargantuan zucchini. The summer is when the Amish sell sweet corn, and when the berry farms open their orchards. The old-timey ice cream shops end their winter break, and people start roasting whole pigs and marinated legs of lamb. It was also not lost on me that a hot, wet climate is the ideal condition for chanterelles, and that this would be the perfect time to chase that dragon: the jar of preserved mushrooms.

Once I began mushroom hunting, the calm followed. I embraced foraging, an oft-maligned word after the chef-bro boom of the 2010s. If your reaction is to recoil, you’re not alone. Before my mushroom-hunting days, I usually laughed when I saw the word “foraged” on a menu or in a magazine. Oh, did you really go out foraging, m’Lord?

The first time I went, I rode in the passenger seat of Andy’s car, down the winding rural roads of Amish country. To be honest, I didn’t immediately connect with foraging; the experience felt educational. Of course, when you’re dealing with something that can be either good in a stir-fry, consciousness-expanding, or deadly, education is important. Poisonous mushrooms actually look evil, though, an offer of good faith from Mother Nature. They often have a sinister gray or red color, with warts and scales reminiscent of the toxic fungi in fairy-tale illustrations. Andy made sure to teach me enough that I didn’t end up hallucinating through the woods — or, worse yet, dead.

People in my hometown definitely don’t fall into the stereotype of knuckle-tatted, beanie-wearing “foragers,” but they’re pretty keen on the good mushroom spots. There’s an old Polish woman, for instance, whose stiff, territorial energy I can feel whenever I show up to Gaston Park the day after a rain. Because I didn’t want to move in on another gang’s turf, I had Andy show me a few of his favorite areas. Still, it didn’t feel right: These were his discoveries, not mine. I wanted to make my own way. I wanted that excitement of stumbling across a rare mushroom, of encountering a field of freshly sprouted chanterelles. I wanted to find my own mushroom haven, and so I went to Hell’s Hollow.

daveynin/Flickr

A view from the Hell’s Hollow Trail in McConnells Mill State Park, Pennsylvania

Hell’s Hollow is a national park and trail in New Castle, Pennsylvania, about a mile down the road from my childhood home. Apparently, it’s called Hell’s Hollow because some time ago a man fell asleep in those woods, and when he woke up, he was convinced that the place he was in was actually Hell. Are the woods deep and dark? Sure. Spooky at night? Yeah, of course. But, Hell? As in the place where sinners go and are tormented for eternity? Like, Satan-owned and -operated Hell? I scoff at the idea whenever I pass the old wooden sign for the trail. What kind of idiot would think that the woods is Hell? It’s beautiful out here. I mean look, there’s a flowing river. Why would the Devil keep a freshwater source in an eternity of suffering? Rule No. 1 of Hell must be to stay hydrated. Rule No. 2? No running.

Hell’s Hollow has been a constant throughout my life. When I was a kid, my mom and dad let me splash around the creek trying to catch minnows and small crabs. When I was 10, I gleefully collected rocks and declared that I was going to be a geologist (my family would be disappointed). As teens, my friends and I smoked shag weed and smashed cans of Mountain Dew together like Stone Cold Steve Austin there. The point is, I’ve been wandering around Hell’s Hollow my whole life, and it never dawned on me that I would ever find myself foraging there. But sure enough, it was my spot.

I did not expect hunting for mushrooms to clear my head the way it did. People say that about prep work, by the way. They say that peeling potatoes and kneading dough lets the mind wander and alleviates stress. But, to me, prep work is just that: work. Dicing onions pierces the eyes, lemon juice stings, and I will always associate chopping parsley with the incoming threat of a dinner rush at one of my restaurant jobs. When people say that cooking soothes the mind, they’re not taking into account all the people who do this shit for a living. What are those people supposed to do to get away from themselves? For me, I found that wandering in the woods alone with a sense of purpose was exactly the thing I needed to weather the fire tornado of anxiety the pandemic had produced.

The act of foraging, a completely unchanged activity in a pandemic, possesses the acute ability to make me forget about the state of things entirely. Specifically, it was easy to forget about a global virus. Hunting for mushrooms in the woods alone is already distanced; there are no guidelines to follow. Walk down the street in Los Angeles and you’re immediately reminded that restaurants are shut down and live performance spaces are shuttered. But in the woods? Go ahead — sneeze full force in any direction you please. Let off some steam, pal. You’ve earned it. Sure, I had a mask, but it stayed in my pocket on the off chance that I ran into another human being, though I was more likely to spot a deer.

When I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible.

This wasn’t just a way to pass time, mind you. These weren’t nature walks I was taking. There’s a sense of ambition at the core of mushroom hunting. Purpose, the thing so many of us have felt without this year, I suddenly possessed. When there’s purpose, there’s a sense of reward, and when I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible. All my energy is focused, my aim clear. Instead of staring at the ceiling in my studio apartment, I found myself scanning the ground for edible treasure. The dopamine you receive from finding a cluster of chanterelle mushrooms in the damp woods is immense, somehow both frivolous and survivalist. There’s a real sense of childlike treasure-hunting tied to foraging.

Take the elusive cauliflower mushroom, Sparassis, which is as rare as mushrooms come. They grow sporadically; their appearance is psychedelic and aquatic. It looks coral in a way, like a living, breathing self-sustaining organism that belongs at the bottom of the ocean. Jarring, then, to find one surrounded by leaves and mossy logs. The mushroom itself is wavy and ethereal, with petals like a flower. It’s so rare that when Andy and I found one, he jumped in the air with excitement. For seven years he had been hunting for a cauliflower mushroom, and he finally got it. His triumph felt like my triumph, and in a way, it was. Later, I fried the petals of the cauliflower mushroom in oil and ate them salted. The texture was outstanding and the flavor delicate, like a homemade noodle but with the specific earthiness of a fungus. “How many people are eating a cauliflower mushroom right now?” I thought.

I felt like jumping in the air like Andy when I spotted that lone, feeble chanterelle in Hell’s Hollow. To reach that first chantie was a hero’s journey, past a path that leads to a dazzling waterfall, down a steep hill, across a stream, and through a tunnel of decaying trees. The air starts to cool down and a trained nose can begin to smell the faint notes of mushrooms in the air. Clusters of chanterelles appear like small towns; they are golden trumpets that politely announce their presence with colorful glee. Oyster mushrooms grow shelf-like on the sides of trees, and chicken of the woods, these endlessly useful and tasty orange half-moons, light up your eyes like a gorgeous sunset. That’s the thing about wild mushrooms — once you see them, you can’t unsee them. After an education in foraging, you’ll be forever scanning your surroundings, trying to manifest treasure.

As I carried back my sack of mushrooms that first time, I thought about that man who woke up in Hell’s Hollow in the night. How must he have felt? Aimless, one would assume. Probably searching for a way out of the darkness. Disoriented, without a clue where he might be in relation to the outside world. Maybe that’s what Hell is. Maybe it’s quite simply feeling lost and alone. The pandemic can feel like that, as though you’re traversing an endless dark wilderness hoping to catch a light in the distance that’ll guide you back to society. But is that a new feeling? Hasn’t it always been that way? Maybe all of life has just been wandering in the dark.

Anyway, I’m glad to be walking through the woods with a purpose.

Danny Palumbo is a comedian and writer living in Los Angeles.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2JUbLZq https://ift.tt/3korg8w

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While the rest of the country focused on something other than the forest floor, I started foraging for chanterelles

For about 30 seconds, I was reminded that the rest of the world was focused on something other than the forest floor.

daveynin/Flickr

A view from the Hell’s Hollow Trail in McConnells Mill State Park, Pennsylvania

When I’m hunting for mushrooms it feels like I’m achieving something tangible.

Anyway, I’m glad to be walking through the woods with a purpose.

Danny Palumbo is a comedian and writer living in Los Angeles.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2JUbLZq via Blogger https://ift.tt/38Dk0DK

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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sugar-petals · 6 years

Text

; sublime (m) ║ reader ✕ merman!jjk

↳ summary: only you can save him.

8k words | smut, action, fantasy

⚠️ angst, themes of persecution & violence, unprotected sex, graphic.

a/n | Needed to reupload, it’s been in an ask format. Second chapter included. request: “Would u be willing to do a merman jk x reader smut?” (rosewell-love)

There’s a dead body on your private beach.

Or so you think. You’ve spotted it going out for your early morning walk with a bottle of water and light trainers. Busan’s late summer has been merciful with the weather so far, so you wanted to tick your two-mile goal on the schedule again.

From afar you already knew that whatever laid there in the silt was nothing of the regular. The colors that struck you against the mellow rising sun seemed blueish, strangely vivid. If it was a water corpse, sure it could be decaying like this. You dare to tread closer, crossing into muddier seafloor now.

Normally, you preferred to stay where the sand was dry and solid to walk on. There is no foul smell as you approach, or scraps of cloth, anything like that. Just algae all around. A few feet away, you begin to understand: This is not a human body.

You’ve heard about sightings of stranded mermen in the news. Authorities were quick to dismiss rumors of violent interventions. They assured that the police would take care of the situation professionally without citizen being able to watch.

The senior locals thought of merpeople as threats or oddities of nature, too peculiar to interact with. There were stories about women who interacted closely getting abducted, bitten, or strangled to death by such creatures. It was treated like a myth while the tabloids and fisherman’s accounts said otherwise.

Mermen were usually described with distorted complexions, crooked bones, and blood-shot eyes. They stink abominably, one reporter said. The universal instruction by the mayor had been equally hideous: Kill, or run. The latter being less preferred because they had to be chased, exploited, and wiped out collectively when you read between the lines.

Last year, there had been gossip about a group of men - designated hunters - sawing off a living merman’s tail and selling it on the black market. Any chopped off hair would bring half a million, too. A million with the scalp attached. The mayor propagated the extermination of these “slimy beasts” when an issue surfaced, all while keeping a trophy fin in his living room, that you were sure of.

But the motionless boy right below you does not appear monstrous at all. His features are almost resemblant to what can be considered human despite that he came from the sea. The upper body, at least. Who knows what kind of world is out there. The contrived stories made you mad, they had been all lies.

Even if your trainers are now completely sunk in, you close the distance entirely.

You look at him with concern. Why is he here, like this, so close to the coast? Your eyes roam up and down, up and down. The cerulean little scales splattered all over his large tail, the sapphire beads around his neck, next to coral lobster claws.

His beauty erases everything in your mind. The teal and silver mane that falls in soft waves and purple braids. They are really, really long and gleaming with an enigma that you fail to grasp. How could anyone be cruel enough to maim him. Everything about this boy had to stay wherever it was.

You inspect his body closer to look for injuries, but there are none. He plainly seems drained, but impossibly beautiful at the same time. His chest is still moving, but both eyes remained closed. You don’t know if mermen can get unconscious.

Perhaps he is just asleep. So ethereal. It all proved the envious locals very dirty liars. They’re conspiring because they know very well how alluring they look like. Since only mermen have been spotted, all efforts to deter every woman in town from getting just one glimpse were rampant.

No human male could quite compare. Except maybe your gay friend and neighbor Taehyung who might just drop dead if he were here. If your female friends saw this boy, the ones who were married would file for divorce. The truly despicable vermin were the conservative men of this town.

Certainly, there are different rules of anatomy and physics that apply to mermen that nobody has ever talked about on shore. You only see that the gills at the sides of his torso flutter hectically. It takes some time until you put two and two together. The falling tide that’s now miles away, it must have left him here. Maybe he lost a sense of direction and got caught by surprise. What an odyssey.

He needs water, desperately. Of course he looks drained, and that’s more urgent than you assumed. You have to hurry up and do something not to see him fade away in front of your eyes. But, where to get it. It would have been straightforward if you hadn’t forgotten carrying a water bottle all along.

You’re hesitant to touch him, but eventually get yourself to rub the sides of his torso, pouring water bit by bit. His skin is so delicate that you don’t dare to apply pressure. His eyes flutter once, and you think he can see what you are doing.

But you did not bring enough water to sustain this moment. At least you know there’s still a chance.

There’s no other option, then. You sprint back to your house, pulse working overtime until you find the long-ignored supply closet key.

An old plastic cover splattered with color comes into sight. It has been formerly used by Taehyung who asked to depict the scenery at your beach. He’s a painter, but too much of a literal fine artist to leave anything sturdy at your house. You keep searching.

At the back, there’s a soiled, but still functional sailcloth with rope running through its eyelets. Hauling that to the beach would not be possible if you weren’t pumped with adrenaline and sheer panic. It has been a huge risk having him left alone out there. This all takes too damn long.

The relief finding him untouched gives you more assurance. The sail sticks to the ground in no time spreading it out next to him. An attempt to roll him onto there using a shove of two hands fails. Only a rope tied around his waist gives everything a decent impetus. Once he’s in place, you pull the canvas tight with the rope and start dragging. But oh my, is he heavy. It’s the colossal tail that probably weighs the most, gravity has no mercy on your arms today.

It takes a few painstaking feet until the cloth starts to run smoothly on the wet ground. Through the dewy lawn of your property, it works much better until your trainers go on a strike. Next time you’ll go to the beach with heavy boots. It’s better with bare feet then, though you encounter another problem. The grass isn’t particularly even, so you have to maneuver around a bump or two. The 10 x 20 feet swimming pool comes into sight quite tardily.

He slumps into the water with a dull splash. You made it by the skin of your teeth and everything hurts. It’s a miracle. The water is uncomfortably icy as you enter, grabbing hold of his shoulders. You have to remind yourself to be careful, washing away all remnants of sand and dirt. The filtration system will take care of it. Again you note how silky the texture of his skin and scales is, clearly not made for life ashore. Before the water starts to paralyze you more with its frostiness, you decide to submerge him completely at the bottom of the pool. Different laws of physics, you remind yourself. For a human, air would basically be like water for him. His own weight sustains him down there well as of now. Begrudgingly, you leave to change clothes.

It’s good that your backyard is surrounded by copious palisades. You do hope nobody observed anything, thinking you transported some carcass or worse, and check back just three minutes later. The garden gate is firmly locked already but doesn’t do much to pacify your feelings of imminent paranoia. So the balcony is a good place to stay where you can sit with your laptop to catch up with pressing work. Any concentration is still out the window though, and any noise snaps you out of typing in emails.

The pool water rouses after the nearby church bell strikes 11 am. You return to the gazebo next to the pool to look if you’re not hallucinating, met with huge, dark eyes. They’re Prussian blue and almost doe-like. He’s leaning at the edge, two arms propped up.

“Thank you, madam. You didn’t have to do this,” he dabbles quite gently, stirring the water with his tail to cause ripples. His voice is very pleasant and friendly, youthful. Never did you think he would be able to speak your language. Everything comes unexpected today.

“Nevermind,” you respond, trying not to show both incredulousness and unease. There is no way in making this sound like a proper conversation, but you try. He called you madam, after all.

”I came to pry for shells and lost my sense of time. It’s my bad.”

You squat down at the edge of the pool at some distance. This seems all too much at once. Yet you have to gather words to let him know.

“Don’t, don’t say that. I can’t let you die out there. To see you become food in a tin can if a hunter or the police come along.”

It strikes a chord with him, and you instantly regret saying it.

“I know who they are. Their prejudice has killed one of my brothers not long ago.” He’s downcast now, impossibly sad. You know who this brother was. A little glistening tear makes its way down his cheek, he picks it up with thumb and index finger. It has turned into a small pearl. “You’re not like them. I can be glad you picked me up without fear or reporting it.”

You enclose the shiny gift with two palms as he passes over the bead. When you tuck it away, it rests in the breast pocket of your blouse. The merman looks very relieved to see you accept it.

“It’s not over yet. But I guess I did the right things so far. You’re alive. I hope I can drag you back at high tide. Or do you need more time?”

“My body regenerated. But my mind, I feel very strange and dizzy, still. Tomorrow.”

“Shit… it’s the chlorine in the water. I don’t think that’s good for you.”

“Chlorine?”

You wonder why he speaks your language perfectly but doesn’t know this.

“To disinfect bacteria dangerous to humans. For you, it might just be nauseating. Maybe because you’re not used to it, or sensitive. Wait, I’ll use the pool filter. I have one.”

While you take care of the pump and also clean away some debris, the curious merman lingers closely.

“Did I tell you my name yet? I’m Jungkook. I have a question, actually. It might sound weird.”

You look up from your task. Jungkook. It’s fitting.

“Just go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“Why do you have a pool next to the sea?”

He’s a bright guy. You understand where the query is coming from, too.

“I do love the sea like you. But the waves are too high. It’s dangerous to bathe there without a vigilant eye. You’ve seen what happened. I prefer to swim here, especially when it’s warmer.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he marvels at you, “humans can’t swim that well in the cold.”

“It’s true. We have trouble moving around mermen as well,” you chuckle, glad your work at the pump is completed. You stand up to return to Jungkook. His presence is soothing, almost familiar.

In that very moment, hasty knocks and rattles resound from the garden gate.

Jungkook immerses himself in water within a split second. He’s diving down faster than you can say anything, in fact. The pool’s surrounding bushes have saved you from being seen with him, thankfully, but your feeling tells you to hurry to the gate as soon as you can. But you have to stop yourself from being in a rush not to be suspicious. It’s painfully obvious who it is from a distance already. You’re in trouble.

It’s Taehyung.

“Oh hey, hey! I rang the doorbell — nobody responded. Figured you’re here! How ya doin’?”

A hurricane as usual. You keep the gate locked. He’s looking at you through the metal bars with inquisitive eyes.

“What do you want, Kim… I’m busy.”

“Sorry, just looking for my painting cover. Do you still have it? Am gone in a minute.”

“Sure.”

You spin around and race inside without further ado. Taehyung must think you have gone completely mad now, but knowing Jungkook is likely having a heart attack down there you would waste no second. You return breathless, red blotches all over the face. He rolls his eyes.

“Slow down, slow down, Noona. It’s Sunday. God, heterosexual people. Always caught in such a fuss.”

“They are. Now, here. Take it. Just, buzz off now, Kim. Got things to do.”

And again, you spin around on your heel and hear him trot away sulking, but clenching his long-lost cover tight. He said he’s gone in a minute, then he has to deal with it. You’ll have to come up with something very intricate to appease him next time when he mocks you for it. And you are sure he will, because Taehyung notices when something’s off. Telling him the truth would be like being Taylor Swift’s boyfriend, he would just broadcast everything.

You dash back and lean over the pool for Jungkook to recognize you. But nothing moves. He’s right about staying where he is. If the police coerced you to be their decoy, luring him out, he’d be dead. Jungkook, that is indisputable to you, continues to prove being very sharp save being aware of tides. The media never talked about merpeople being this people-conscious and easily intimidated. They’re just drawing them as evil to get hunting permission. Vicious pigs.

You want to make them fall.

There’s something else that strikes you, watching for activity in the pool. There must be a way that merpeople gather excessive knowledge about humans. Or it might be a contact person. But you don’t want to know, it might be a way to trace them back. Such a secret must never be revealed, you know you’ll take all this to your grave to protect him. It would be good to tell your story to everyone so they would change their mind. But the police was hawk-eyed and knew how to press for information.

They’d be hellbent and relentless to slit his throat as soon as they could. Officials and hunters had methods to find him if it was not too far out in the ocean. Or they would just wait until he came back to you sooner or later. You are sure that he will. He’s feeling indebted. And attached. You’re too. You dread the day, and tomorrow’s goodbye if it actually comes.

You have to admit it: This propelled you into a gigantic mess. You already felt your heart burst when Taehyung knocked. You have to guard Jungkook from a greater fuck-up, come what may.

With the entire government of Busan or even Seoul against you when your secret ever goes public. Because they want to keep it on the low, too, and would stop at nothing. You did not go against the law but social customs and conservative morale, and those are by far more powerful.

You rip off your blouse and pants and toss them on the balcony. Your tank top is hardly suitable for the temperature, but the pool water is slightly warmer as you get in slowly. The chlorine has faded. The first good news for today.

Diving down, Jungkook appears curled up in the deepest, darkest corner, holding his hair together so it won’t float up and betray him. Most of the fright on his face dissolves when you give an intent thumbs up. These mermen understand so much about your culture. You cannot let go of this thought. How could he know?

Swimming closer, you seize him by the hands, nodding your head toward the surface. He pulls you up with ease, fast and agile. Emerging, you have to draw several breaths. He looks around frantically. You hope this didn’t traumatize him.

“It was my neighbour friend asking for art supplies. He left and didn’t see anything. Nobody else around. We’re good. Jungkook, it’s alright. It was just a friend.”

It’s Sunday, thankfully.

“I was so afraid… There was a vision, I was bleeding!”

“It’s okay now. There’s no blood. I protect you, nothing will happen.”

It’s of no use. He can’t stop looking around. Jungkook needs something to ground him.

A little kiss on the forehead.

It makes his cheeks turn cobalt blue. You feel how his tail sways back and forth a bit quicker. You part your legs wider so they won’t crush his fin in between.

“I will handle it. If I can pull you out of the mud, then I can subdue them when they ever show up. You just have to hide. Jungkook.”

It’s self-persuasion and hoping for a self-fulfilling prophecy. But you’re beaming at him, and his smile grows just as large.

“Y/N, you’re very strong. I wouldn’t know where I’d be without your help. You hardly knew me, just my kin.”

“So did you. But you didn’t freak out when you were awake.”

He nods emphatically.

“I felt your hands on my gills. It was very nice. Like waves. I knew you were benevolent, you resemble the sea when you move. No bad person does this. Can you… again? Only if you want, I—”

What he said stuns you for seconds. Your hands move to his upper body on autopilot.

“Like, like this?”

Jungkook sighs a mellowed yes when you start to stimulate his sides. His gills are much more relaxed than at the beach. After some strokes, you’re leaning in so much that his arms virtually just have to close an inch around you for an embrace.

He clings to you in a tight hug, your lips coming up to meet his. Whatever magic or trick he is using, they feel curiously sparkling and slightly saline after a while. It’s magnificent. Meanwhile, your breasts are squeezed flat against his chest, feeling how Jungkook’s heartbeat accelerates. Much like his fin that’s bringing more of his tail between your legs. You pull them upwards a bit, but inevitably he brushes against your pubes. You thought it would be awkward. But something about his body infatuates your skin like an ancient charm.

“Apologies Y/N, I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t be sorry. Just, fuck… do it again. Feels awesome. You can be yourself with me.”

He understands, bringing his tail stark forward this time. Shit. Your clit says yes to that. So does your face judging by how he reacts, a lot keener than before.

“Jungkook, I have a weird question, too,” you brush back against him, “Is it possible, I mean. Can you penetrate me somehow, or…?”

He’s blushing a second time.

“I can peel the scales apart at the front.”

And he does it.

Oh wow.

He has the most gorgeous shaft you’ve ever seen. Clad in lustrous, thin scales sprouts forth a splendid length tinted in jade. It sojourns hard and upright, poking heavy at your clit and entrance only separated by your underwear.

“You can’t impregnate me, right?”

“I can’t. Human egg cells are too small and not receptive.”

That has you wondering, and quite amused how he said that. It means something big is coming. Sounds like fun.

“Can I ride you then?”

“You can do anything, really.”

It can’t get any hotter. Thankfully, you’re half undressed already. The panties you had left on soon float elsewhere just below the surface, and you’re shoving up the hem of your tank top. His chest feels ten times as invigorating when you’re naked against it. There’s hesitation when you reach for his cock. You don’t want to do anything wrong to hurt him. But Jungkook is encouraging the initiative. And the way he’s dipping at you flicks a plethora of switches. So it’s easy. You slip him in and start to move your hips. Soon you realize it’s a bit difficult to go down further.

“Can I use a spell? It helps.” he exhales. You knew it, he has those abilities.

“Mh, love to see it.”

There he goes. You catch Jungkook whispering a convoluted spell to himself before your walls pop open without further trial. He’s dipping in first, then going half the way already. That’s not normal at all. He knows what he’s doing, though. It’s so, so damn good.

Jungkook is completely ecstatic.

Your experience so far has been that sex in water generally… doesn’t go well. No lubrication, no fucking. But no, this has to be the best exception. The practically seamless scales, they’re really doing the trick. The plunge is slick and exciting, going in clean with every bounce. And there’s a quite a stunning lot to slide up and down on, that you get to welcome soon. He’s getting confident to echo the thrust with eyes fixated on yours.

“Give me more of that,” you insist, leaving both legs wrapped around his wavering tail. It’s almost too slippery to hold on to. But good to sink down smoothly while squeezing deeper inside. You’re pushed upwards the more he fucks into you. His tip is broad enough to anchor you, not letting you glide off easily. But you’re dangerous close to it. So you’re letting yourself drop down on him with more momentum which he has to cushion first, causing your belly to bulge out considerably. You’re obsessed.

“Lift my legs more, Jungkook!”

Like that, the insides of your thighs graze at his gills, abrasive and brisk. To your surprise, it eventuates in sharper thrusts going for your sweetest spots. The depth that he pursues now starts to stretch you hard and wide on the glossy scales. Jungkook keeps murmuring spells. If this goes on for any longer, that’s a cock riding that would send not only you but Taehyung and the entire neighborhood to the gates of heaven and higher.

You keep shoving him straight up to dent out your abdomen, and he’s making it so salacious with his little moans. When you’re grabbing for hold at his shoulders, Jungkook warns you about his precum. Indeed it’s not to underestimate when you feel it, making everything two times as sleek. You slump down completely now, surprised not to feel any trace of balls against your ass.

Different anatomy.

Normal men need cooling for their sperm outside of their body, otherwise they would not survive. Jungkook? He’s got something else going on. Busan’s sea is not notoriously warm.

“Intertwine your fingers in my hair, Y/N—”

“What? Can I really do that?”

It sounds like heresy to your ears.

“It’ll stimulate you, do it quickly,” he persists, and your fingers seek a place in his silky mane. And Christ, he’s right. There’s a rapid sedation of the anxious thoughts at the back of your mind. Instead, you’re feeling an immense euphoria descend from your spine down to your loins. Jungkook whimpers while you’re drilling him deeper with all your power. Slowly but surely, you lose yourself in his dazzling ocean hair. You’re so happy now. Nothing matters. Just you together within the blur of everything else.

Fuck society. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

Jungkook’s moans have grown incomprehensible. Both of your hands soak up more of the sky blue energy. And once you grab the strands tighter, an overwhelming current verberates in your back until you’re ready and cumming. The world is so elated, nothing can bring your hands away from his hair. It’s pushing you to the limit incessantly. Better than any drug trip, better than the feeling after you ran your second marathon. You’re climaxing so vigorously on him that twenty seconds in, something effervescent and tingly begins to pour into your womb like a bursting well. His unearthly groaning gives you an idea of how much it shatters and empties him. You get filled to the brim and it won’t stop. Of course, he’s significantly larger than the average human — much semen to store then, by your logic at least. You do get a glimpse of the proportions as Jungkook keeps cramming loads and loads past your cervix while your orgasm keeps electrifying even the last corner of your body.

The well won’t cease. He keeps moving until you’re entirely pumped full with an all creamy, tickling substance. You try to keep everything in not to leak it into the water. But it’s too much. With each of his last thrusts, the bulk of it just comes spilling out. A shimmering, dark cyan liquid rises to the surface in gradient plumes, mixed with streaks of your cum. It looks like fluid shapes of orchids showing as a supple iridescent foam.

And it turns golden.

The scent gives you a feeling of the hours after rain in spring. Jungkook picks up a decent bit of the foam with two fingers, slipping them into his mouth. He leans in to kiss you again as you reach the aftermath of your peak that threatens to leave you bland. But what happens now makes you tighten around his dick once again, seizing out more to splutter inside.

On your tongue unfold an explosion of jasmine blended with peppermint, thyme, fresh raspberries, wild honey, and even something like caramel. There was no way you would have been prepared for this. You had expected something like a sea breeze, but this beats all that you could imagine. Because beyond approximation, you can’t really describe what it is like.

You swallow fast and retreat one hand from his hair to pick up something yourself. This is the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It can’t be called an actual thing, in fact, it’s more than that. It has to be an artifact. A magic potion that you want to bottle up and drink all day, sweet and glowing.

It’s like alchemy.

And you’re so deliciously stuffed with that now.

Before you pull him out, all the negative pressure culminates. Then, the rest of his seed bubbles up placidly. The gaping feels like you just jammed a baseball bat inside of yourself, reckless abandon with a Himalaya of premium coke up your nose. Complete inebriation.

Water streams in and flushes out the final strands of cyan when his following spells seal you tight. Jungkook holds you firm until you detangle his hair with your remaining hand, then place it on his cheek. If there were mermaids out there, they’d be the luckiest women on the entire planet.

“Kook”, you whisper with an unwinding tremble, “you’re amazing.”

Anchoring an old khaki tent next to the pool takes some time, but you remember something about the manual. This goes here, that goes there, and this is how you zip up a sleeping bag. Jungkook giggles along. You can’t afford to sleep inside tonight. You only move your blouse to the safety of your wardrobe and get a snack, switch on the lights of the balcony to illuminate the garden for the rest of the evening. He’s singing for you.

The next day is grueling because you have to go to work. But before leaving, you relocate Jungkook to the bathtub as fast as possible, leaving him your phone with a short explanation so he can call you and vice versa. The anxiety comes back.

He gets lighthearted leisure magazines and books to spend the time, and devours them. History, art, fashion, beauty, celebrities, health, sports, food, philosophy, fantasy, comedy. He also asks for a globe and celestial map, saying his uncle vaguely told him about it. Maybe it’s good that he knows a bit more about the mainland when he returns. You don’t want to let him go with the same ideas he had before, give him a bit of faith in the good things you had here. The other side of the coin, even if it was just a glimpse of hope.

Though you didn’t expect him to return to your mansion in any way. Humanity is already terrifying enough. Especially after his loss. This should not happen again. You decide to leave him your trusted chef knife and a word of caution. He doesn’t know how to use it so you teach him the technique. He says he wouldn’t be any better than his attackers if there were some. You try to clarify that it’s the way humans act sometimes. Tit for tat. And he has all the right and responsibility to defend himself under threat, otherwise, he would never be able to see the stars again.

At 10 am you give him a short call. He’s fine, quite mesmerized how the phone works, and just a bit hungry. You decide not to spend lunchtime in the city, but speed your car to a local supermarket and deli, looking for seaweed. Returning home Jungkook is still in his place, having managed to drop Terry Pratchett and J. K. Rowling into the water. But all else is as before. In the afternoon, you call him twice. He talks about the invention of the lightbulb, pasta salad, Kant, and how nicely Tolkien writes about Hobbits. Work passes torturously slow, the keyboard in front of you blurs each time your mind drifts away. You go home early, leaving your subordinates Jimin and Seokjin a bit puzzled at a shallow excuse. If only they knew.

It’s way after dawn when you move him out of the bathroom. Jungkook gets the idea that you could just use a wheelbarrow this time, knowing you own one after having had enough hours to glance around your garden already. You fill a bit of water into it and pick boots with a sturdy profile. And it works, the leverage is much better on the arms. You arrive at the beach laughing and joking together how silly of a duo you must look like. Jungkook has already given his word to come back in two days around the same time.

The tide is close enough for you to take him to the water. He parts reluctantly with five, six, seven sublime kisses. You hope he wasn’t missed by his family. Busan’s nocturnal skyline radiates from afar when you watch him swim east ever so elegantly.

It’s hard to find any sleep later. Your arms still ache like hell from dragging him. And so many things are going through your head. You end up outside in the tent after taking a quick shower, pretending he’s still there. Jungkook has last started a chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia, and you put yourself in a tired daze finishing it. Work tomorrow is going to be so hard.

Jimin asks if you’re okay while he organizes some files, but doesn’t comment anything further. You resume typing with the feeling that you are now leading a double life. Taehyung’s words come back: Slow down, slow down. And you do. Wednesday you will see him at the bay, everything is alright. Who knows what you will do afterwards, how often you will meet. Maybe it’s good not to make him cross into dangerous territory regularly, or at least you should look for more hidden places. You’ll make it.

Two days after, you receive an early mail. You’re drowsy but startled, Taehyung and Jin haven’t sent anything for months. It has to be one of them.

It’s only a red envelope and some strangely filled paper bag. You peel open the red letter first.

It was made with a typewriter.

“A million and you get the fish back whole. He has a nice buzzcut already. Friday 1 pm, quay. Pull up with the money or you’ll see him on the news. Tell anybody and we will do the same to you.”

Below, the paper is embossed with a saw and hook symbol.

You drop the bag as soon as you open it.

There are hundreds of tiny pearls on the floor.

chapter two ║ i’m no angel (m)

↳ summary | who do you have to become to get him back?

⚠️ graphic violence, threat of drowning, car accident, aftermath of torture.

There’s an old cage.

Bars bent and crooked.

Not abandoned, just empty since this very day. You know he must have been inside, nothing else makes sense. The lingering smell around here, it belongs to him. The air is spiked with thyme, the scent of grass after it rained. It’s familiar. It’s so painful. You go on searching every corner of the hangar in a fever. It looks like a warehouse from the inside, stuffed with tools and other miscellaneous equipment.

Some wood, nails. Discarded tires. You’ve seen some of them on the SUV you followed to Busan city limits. You try to memorize the letters and numbers on them. AZ1-5986. Whatever that means. It could be of help later since you don’t know the SUV’s license plate.

As you remember that it’d be straightforward to just photograph the tires with your phone, a faint knocking sets your world on fire. It keeps repeating, they are fast and erratic knocks. Not mechanical ones. Not calm ones.

You hurry into the direction where you suspect they are coming from. There’s no doubt in your mind that you should not go. It’s the only sign of life, or whatever it is in this building. Somewhere, somewhere at the back behind two parked up seaplanes, timeworn and half deconstructed, there you locate it. A moss-covered fish tank is jammed between a humongous workbench and a freezer. A tail rests and winds grazing tight against the glass inside. Oh my god.

Yes, it’s him. You unbolt the lid, bring it down crashing on the freezer. Jungkook spins around inside the tank until his face comes to the surface. Pale grey eyes. Charcoal hair, cropped short. Pursed lips and a tapered chin. An Ingenue look. He’s agitated.

“I’ve heard you calling for him, you’re the one Jungkook’s talked about!”

No. It’s not Jungkook. Not his voice, not his face. Too lean, not sturdy at all. It’s definitely not him. His scent is much different, too. Sweet chestnuts, basil. It’s not familiar.

“Who are you, where is he?”

“Yoongi,” the merman blinks, “I’m his friend. They got us both at once at the beach.”

That’s what you feared. Jungkook’s friends and family getting dragged into this. You wish you had just sent him out as far away as possible where the hunters wouldn’t get him.

“I’m his—”

You don’t know what you are to him. A girlfriend? Hardly. An affair? More than that. It sounds weird anyway. Affairs are not that serious.

“He loves you.”

There it is. Jungkook told him. Lovers might be what describes you best.

“Where is he?”

“They’ve taken him to another place from here this morning. This is just the decoy. They told you to follow the car and fetch him here after paying.”

“They did. And now?”

“These are not the headquarters,” Yoongi props himself up at the edge of the tank. “The shipyard is. You have to go there!”

Of course. This hangar is as good as useless for a permanent stay. It’s just for the dirty work.

“And what happens with you? I won’t leave you here like that. But I can’t transport you in my car, there’s nothing like this tank.”

“It takes half an hour until I can’t go without any water. If you drop me at the sea it’s fine.”

“So I can take you with me?”

“I’ll be grateful forever. Jungkook didn’t lie about how you treat us.”

You steer your car into the hangar backwards, get out again with the engine on, rip the trunk open. The size has to be enough.

The high walls of the fish tank don’t permit you to lift Yoongi out of it. He tries to push himself up with the help of his fin several times, but he’s too large, the glass to slippery, and the tank too narrow. As a last resort, you grab a sledgehammer from the workbench to impact and shatter the glass. The handle is long, maybe 17 or 18 inches, allowing you to step back and lunge quite far. The glass doesn’t break right away. You are not used to wielding something like this. It takes three more strikes until you demolish the front wall. You have to be careful not to hit where Yoongi’s tail squeezes against the glass.

The gush of water Yoongi pushes you back, everything goes into splinters with fragments of glass bursting to the sides, then floating everywhere on the ground. Yoongi cuts himself several times at the arms and lower back before you can pick him up. His chest is flat and cold against yours, his body heavy and close to glide far from your grasp. Less so than Jungkook, but still it feels like the weight is tearing off your arms. His skin is like you’re touching soap.

There’s no sailing cloth or Taehyung’s art supplies this time. You try to heave him up as much as possible so his fin won’t touch the ground, glass cracking under your boots until you reach the car. Yoongi howls with pain when you try to tuck him in. His wounds scratch hard at the trunk’s plastic inlet. You show him how to open and close the tailgate from the inside, then shut it and set off.

It takes ten minutes to the bay.

The boatyard towers over the cranes and docks of the harbor. You speed in order to drive around. And there it is. AZ1-5986. They didn’t park the car inside, no. It stands blazen at the rear entrance. And they met you at 1 PM in the middle of the day. You’ve been tricked by absolute amateurs.

Or not.

There’s a scream coming from the inside. Sharp, heartbreaking.

No time to bring Yoongi to the sea.

You seize the sledgehammer from the passenger seat. And go.

You recognize them at one glance. It’s the small man and red-head woman you saw driving the SUV, the woman being the one you gave the ransom to. She gave cold instructions. The man is currently wearing large gloves, dripping with water. To your surprise, they seem to be alone. The vast silence of the dockyard seems too large to house them here. The woman sneers at you, patting the front of her black leather jacket.

“Your envelope’s still right here, Miss.”

“It will be here soon,” you point towards your own jeans pocket at the front.

She only tugs at her necklace in return. It’s made of colorful hair. Gold, turquoise. Teal and silver. You realized something. Only one thing drives them: cash. And since the government still wants the monopoly in the equation, that will be their eternal aim. Hunters are only tolerated for doing the messy jobs. The profiteer is elsewhere. And with the sums that they trade the mermen, your ransom money is only a temporary achievement, gone tomorrow. It’s not what Jungkook is worth to you anyways. Money can’t measure Jungkook. If only you could hold him.

What your instinct tells you at the sight of the hair is: Killing. No matter if it would alert authorities sooner or later, or bring a gang to your garden. But Jungkook’s words are still at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’d be ready to be just as bad as they are. Maybe you’re no angel in all of this. You’ve infringed on the circle of life the minute you decided to pour water on Jungkook’s body at the beach. But there’s no way back. You have to be as bad, even worse. For him.

Because there he lies, in a giant tank with another merman with orange tail and skin. It’s close enough to see what’s inside. Pearls are piling up at the ground, and well from his eyes when they lock on you. His hair looks auburn, the long vivid strands are gone. They picked a lot of scales off his tail, too, leaving bloody spots. All the jewelry is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a heavy chain is wound secure around him several times, weighing his body to the ground. The other merman doesn’t have a chain. His scales and hair are removed entirely. They sawed one of his arms off, too. If you can judge by his face, the decaying process has already started. He’s been here for longer.

Your anger is boiling up. The woman’s shallow smile pushes you over the edge at last. She pulls out a soiled drop point knife. You hate her so much. This place has to be wiped out. Erased, cauterized. The entire gang if you have to. You charge gripping the hammer at the top with the right hand, at the bottom with your heft. Before you reach her, the man is wrapping his hands around your neck from behind, pulling you back from her.

One foot, two feet, three. You can’t breathe, panic. The feeling of his gloves is terrifying on your skin, in your mind. But the thought of Jungkook burns inside. Again you focus all energy in your arms. Finally. He takes your elbow to the stomach, cries out, and topples down. Before the man catches himself, you follow your impulse. It’s good that he dragged you away. This is the only chance. You withdraw your right hand from the handle and take a long swing back with all the might in your left arm. You hurl the hammer forward and send it flying towards her legs. The spin knocks her over right away. This tree got cut down. If you could, you’d make wood briquettes. But not now.

He’s coming at you again. Now that she’s unconscious, your job is easy even if your hammer is gone. Men have more frontal weak spots to hit.

He has his gloved fists up. Going towards you slowly. First he tries to suffocate you, now he’s playing fair, doesn’t he. You’ll floor him faster than her. Suits him, he’s the minion. The prick probably sawed apart Jungkook’s brother.

You wait until he comes close enough, put your fists up in return. Shit, shit, shit. Your arms hurt so much. You play the game despite the ache, dancing from foot to foot as he comes in. Then boot nasty fucker in the groin aimed from below, explosive and direct. He stumbles backward with a yell, falling agonized and twitching. You dive after him, leg extended to land a second kick under his chin. His head snaps back. That beats him senseless for once.

But you worry about Yoongi. The trunk. He’s still in there. Since twenty minutes or more. And even if he knows how to get out of there, it’s of no use. He can’t go anywhere. This has to be fast. At the other end of the scene, you pull the envelope from the woman’s jacket, along with a metal key and her necklace. She doesn’t deserve it.

You hurry to Jungkook, hammer all too heavy in your hands again. At one point, your arms are going to fall off your torso. But now you know better. You dash the tank to pieces in one final hurl towards the right spot, entirely graceless but effective. The water swipes you off your feet in a large outpour. Exhaustion is coming.

The splinters are much larger this time and the float glass appears to almost detonate under the pressure released. Jungkook is too heavy to get carried off by the surge. He lands just feet away next to you crying, repeating your name until you manage to stand up leaving the hammer behind.

“I missed you, Jungkook, what—”

“You, you came,” he winces, “are you fine?”

“Don’t ask about me,” you fumble at the lock of his chain, “we’ll get this off, talk is for later.”

“It hurts.”

He’s looking at you from dulled eyes. They might have put him into water, but the life is still drained out of him. You don’t want to imagine what happened. They bound the chain around him so tight that it left purple traces. After it’s off, you already know what to do with it. Jungkook picks an orange scale from his dead friend in the debris, whispering a last goodbye.

The thirty minutes are long over. The trunk is closed when you come out of the backdoor with Jungkook.

You open to a smiling Yoongi the second he sees you and Jungkook in your arms.

“Yoongi, you okay? Left you waiting.”

“Sure, but you?” he ruffles his hair a bit. You blink twice, seeing that it has grown a bit longer and darker since you saw it in the hangar. You noticed that with Jungkook as well, but didn’t put two and two together, or actually believed your own eyes. It must be magic at work. Or different physics.

At a second glance, there’s a decent layer of water in the trunk.

“Yes, they’re in chains. Where does the water come from?”

“You had several bottles of sparkling water in the corner. I like how it tingles, we don’t have that out there. My wounds... it seems they regenerate.”

Of course! The water. You bought it when getting groceries for Jungkook.

“And what do we do with the two?”

“We could take them out with us. But they’re affiliates, they all know about each other.”

“I’ll decide later by myself,” you guide Jungkook onto the rear bench seat. “We need to go...”

You kickstart the car, turn to head for the one-way lane to the docks. As close as your car permits, you maneuver toward the edge where water towers high. The tide is in favor. But there’s commotion at the end of the street where you came from. It’s a truck.

“Hurry!” Jungkook cries, “That’s the rest of them!”

You can’t drive away with them now. If you’re able to drop both off, then you’re already lucky. You drive closer to the water, preparing to unlock the car with your electric key so Yoongi gets the sign to open the trunk. But you soon feel that the car gets out of balance. You look into the rear-view mirror, estimating how much you could still drive backward, or forward. But it’s futile.

The weight in the back drags the car over the edge. You’re screaming. Jungkook tries to counterbalance. The car tips over anyways. It enters the water.

The door won’t open. Water keeps rising. The signal of the keys won’t unlock the car no matter how many times you press the button. Jungkook can’t manage to open the doors either, his strength has faded. The water level has almost reached the ceiling when he stops trying. You’re so far down and out of air, even if you managed to escape now diving upward would make you run out of air already. Maybe a few seconds left and you can say goodbye to this life. You can’t tell Jungkook how much you love him. It’s all too late. Everything, absolutely everything went wrong. Only failure remains. Fucked up from start to finish. Four lives ruined, two dead. You feel a thumping at the back of your head.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with your hair from behind, whispering something between bubbles before you can’t hear anymore. An immense heat glues your legs together in an instant, melting the fabric of your jeans. A rousing bolt darts through your scalp, your feet stop moving. It feels like your body is bloating everywhere, soaking up water. Webbing springs forth between your fingers, fiery scales around your hips. Your hair starts growing out scarlet and thick, curling large before your eyes. The sides of your upper body start to open up wide, then close again. A burst of air expands in your lungs.

Now you know why Jungkook knew so much about civilized life.

Merpeople used to be human.

⁕ sequel: dauntless (m) | m.list in bio

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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766

My dad is starting to gear me up for ~adult life~ and has made me start a Paypal, a social security number, and all that jazz and it’s making me immensely anxious, so expect more surveys than usual in the next few days lmao.

How frequently are you inclined to read, and how much? Not frequent at all. I’ll read only if I have to; and when it comes to reading for leisure, I’ll only reread books I’ve already read in the past. I find it sad considering how big of a bookworm I was as a kid. When was the last time you questioned the direction your life was taking? Right now, what with the Covid crisis. My life would have been mapped out ever so neatly if my life’s schedule went as expected - finish the sem, finish my thesis, graduate, travel for a bit, get a job. Now that that has been thrown out the window I essentially have to start from scratch and go into the world blind. And if you've been reading my surveys, you’ll know my least favorite thing to have to deal with is big change. Would you say that your personal views align with society's, generally? Not the society I have no choice but to be surrounded by, which is mostly Catholic, homophobic, sexist, and just very backwards in general. But when it comes to people I voluntarily choose to be with, like the friends I make and the people I follow on social media, I make sure their views are as liberal as mine so I don’t go completely crazy. ^ If not, in what ways do your opinions drastically differ? I just said it, but yeah Filipinos continue to be very resistant to more open-minded, modern views. Girls will still often be told to cover up, religions other than Christianity are viewed as wrong and of lower status, abortion is the most scandalous thing a woman could do, drug addicts must be handled with bullets and not rehab, etc. Basically everything you can roll your eyes over, that’s what Filipinos will tend to side with; and it’s very difficult to want to have your voice heard here because you will be ridiculed and thrown Bible verses instead of legit arguments. What small things have the ability to get under your skin? People who only start picking their orders once they’re the ones at the cashier, drivers who do have their turn signal on but will go THE OTHER DIRECTION, finding out there’s a car accident and I find out traffic has been building up only because drivers slow down to look at the crash site. The last one makes me especially mad every time it happens lol.

When was the last time you were caused to be upset with someone? I haven’t been upset with anyone in a while. If I’m upset these days, blame it on the weather. ^ Have you made up with that individual yet, or will you ever? I will never be ok with the summer climate over here. What is something small that has the ability to cure a bad mood? Hearing a favorite song on the radio as I’m driving, hitting all the green lights while driving, finding a parking spot near the mall entrance... man I really miss going out :(( What beverage is best capable of quenching your thirst? Water. What was the last big change through which you went? It hasn’t happened yet but I’ll be graduating and will officially be done with school forever in a few weeks. I mean, that’s the case unless I decide to take up a master’s but honestly the chances of that are super blurry as I’m over school at this point. ^ Do you deal well with change, typically? Have you always? I am honestly terrible at it and as much as I’m excited to get my first real job, I’m also scared to see how my adjustment pans out. I’ve had a pattern for not being able to adapt well to a new phase – I didn’t adjust in high school until my junior year, and I didn’t adjust in college until the latter half of my sophomore year. I really wish the trend doesn’t continue in the workplace because I can’t handle another mental slump. How do you feel after spending a great quantity of time online? I feel nothing? I mean I need the internet to do almost everything so it’s just become a part of daily routine; it’s normalized already. I would tend to feel some shame if I’ve been unproductive online when I could’ve been doing much more important stuff, but I’ve been avoiding that - I’ve been working on my thesis again, working on stuff for my org, participating in my other extracurriculars, etc. I feel relatively productive given the current circumstances. What do you consider to be the biggest drawback to being you? Like I said, I’m terrible with change. It takes forever for me to warm up to new conditions, and in that period I tend to feel very alone and miserable. I don’t know why I’ve never learned to just get out and make friends earlier. What do you consider the best part of being who you are? ^ Related to said drawback, once I have adjusted to the change, I do very well. I make lots of friends and am back to being my bubbly, social self. I just wish She could come out more easily. What kinds of things do you have on display in your room? Several Audrey Hepburn frames, a couple of paintings, and a poster of a Korean actor. What do you think your room and its contents say about you, if anything? I think more than anything you’ll see how my interests have shifted over the years haha. There’s tons of old WWE magazines, Paramore albums, Beyoncé albums and DVDs, crafty stuff like painting sets and coloring books, etc. When was the last time you felt insecure about something/some situation? Half hour ago when my dad was encouraging me to register for a bunch of grownup stuff. He doesn’t pester me a lot in small bits everyday (which I would really prefer); he’s more of a I’ll-dump-all-this-shit-on-you-in-one-go kind of person, which pressures me even more. I mean I’m excited for this new chapter but I wish he didn’t tell me to start a bank account and a Paypal and a social security number and a TIN all at the same time. What is something about which you are very confident or self-assured? I pride myself on being a good worker/co-worker. Do you ever stop to contemplate infinity? No. Are you comfortable amongst nature, or does the wilderness discomfit you? Sure, it makes me feel at peace. When was the last time someone or something caught you off guard? Andrew did a buuuunch of progress on our thesis this afternoon after a few days of passive-aggressively telling him that I’ve been doing all the work in the last week. How much time do you put into maintaining your appearance and hygiene? I don’t want to take a lot of time since I’m usually on a tight schedule but I do put enough effort to look and smell nice, if that makes sense. Like I wouldn’t take hours to do my makeup and put up an intricate hairdo, but I will still make sure I don’t exit the house looking shabby. Are there any foods you eat daily? . . . Or wish you could? I have rice and some sort of meat everyday. When was the last time someone new entered your life? Start of the semester when we had a new wave of applicants joining our org. ^ What was your first impression of that individual? They all seemed nice and fun to be around, and I’m glad their batch has had amazing chemistry from the get-go. But because of the lockdown I never got to know them all that well so I’m a little sad about it, since I’m already graduating. Do you put much thought into your handwriting? No? It’s not really something I can control anyway haha. What are some of the top priorities in your life right now? Ugh I’ve talked about this so much on here that it’s almost stupid because I take these surveys to begin with to distract myself from my current anxieties only for the surveys to ask about said anxieties ksksksks. Can I say pass for now? Lol In general, how do you feel about romantic relationships? They’re nice, and it feels good to have a person you can share everything to, be affectionate with, who supports you in everything, etc. I’ve been used to being in one for so long now I honestly can’t imagine being single. Which emotional sensation inconveniences or bothers you the most? As if I haven’t talked about it on this single survey enough, anxiety. Are you capable of consoling others in their grief? It depends on how bad is the thing they’re grieving and how accepting they are of help. I don’t know if I’m capable of talking to someone who has lost a parent, but I’ll be able to talk to a friend who’s going through a breakup. Do you ever find it awkward to compliment another being? No. I can give compliments, but I’m unable to take them. When was the last time you had a new experience? What was it? Earlier this afternoon when my dad made me make a Paypal hahaha. Skskss plz stop reminding me of scary things Do you dress more for yourself, or to the expectations of others? A little bit of both. I want to look nice, but I also make sure I keep up with the trends so others think I look nice. What kinds of things tend to stress you out? The stuff I’ve mentioned throughout this survey... What is one way you cope when you feel like crap? I watch videos, I eat whatever I’m craving, I talk about it with my girlfriend, I hug my dog... I have a lot of coping mechanisms.

Name an insult you regularly receive, if there is one? My mom tells me so many insults on a regular basis I can put each one of them in a spinning wheel and give you whatever comes out lol. Name a site that takes up a lot of your time? YouTube. What is something you used to believe about life that you no longer do? That money was easy to acquire. It was certainly so easy to fantasize about as a kid. What is a lesson you have recently learned? I don’t recall picking up anything new lately. Realizations, sure; but I’m not sure about lessons. Do you have a tendency to look on the morbid side of life? Sometimes. When was the last time you went shopping? What did you buy? A weekend before the quarantine. I bought a couple of new tops. When you shop for clothing, how long does it take you? 10-15 minutes tops. I just pick out whatever looks pretty. What is something fun you have done within the past week? It’s been a horrid week. I can’t answer this question. What is something you hope you never have to do again? Stay at home with nothing to do for this long. How does the rain affect your mood, if it does? It makes me feel happy and at peace.

#survey #surveys

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diyunho · 6 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Secrets” Part 1

The Joker did something so unforgivable and despicable you don’t ever want to see him again. After months of avoiding The King of Gotham, you really can’t understand why he appointed you as the only person to take care of his son in case of emergency. There’s no way you’ll accept to help the little boy in his father’s absence, yet the three years old has no fault in what happened between you and your ex.

Part 2: http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/178630090876/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-2

You have no idea for how long you’ve been driving, but you feel the need to pull over again: the restlessness is becoming unbearable and the tears clouding your vision make it dangerous to continue the trip for the moment.

You signal and switch lanes, slowly approaching the emergency shoulder ahead without a clue about what to do afterwards; one thing’s for sure though: Y/N will definitely take refuge in LA.

At this point it’s safe to say that the town her father owns is probably the only home she ever had; not a very comforting notion yet the shocking revelation she accidentally stumbled upon a few hours ago doesn’t leave any room for alternatives.

You park as close as possible to the concrete railing and get out of the SUV, the cold air making you shiver since your coat is quite thin for the chilly spring afternoon. You start pacing around the car, hesitantly glaring at your cellphone. Should you make the call now or wait?... …

Might as well get it over with.

You press the screen on the sole name listed under “Important Contacts”: Dad.

The Joker’s phone number used to be there also; it got blocked and removed when you had to stop for fuel at a gas station back in Gotham.

Jase picks up right away and the sound of his familiar voice makes it harder to keep yourself together.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi daddy,” you sniffle and bite on your lip, not wanting to cry. “How are you?”

“Not bad for an old man, kid. How’s my favorite daughter?” he asks and despite not remembering being more upset in your life, you still crack a smile since the mobster doesn’t have any other children.

“I’m OK dad,” you gulp and continue. ”I’m actually on my way to Los Angeles; I should be there tomorrow night.”

“That’s great, Y/N! I didn’t see you in a while and I sure miss you. How long are you staying?”

You take a deep breath, almost chocking on the painful words:

“Indefinitely…”

Absolute silence for a few seconds and then Jase growls:

“What the fuck did he do now?”

You sigh, choosing not to share the specifics of your decision.

“It’s just not working out…So I’m coming home…Can I use the house again please?” your request makes your parent cringe.

“That’s your house and you don’t need my permission to live there, kiddo. What’s going on, hm? You know you can tell me,” the 62 years old attempts to reason with the distressed Y/N: although she’s doing a decent job at hiding her heartache, he can read in between the lines.

“I’ll…I’ll be fine dad, don’t worry,” you mutter and your father knows better than to push for a confession; you’ll probably bring him up to date when you’ll be ready. “I think I’ll get on the road again; I have to cover as much distance as possible today.”

“Sure kid, I’ll see you soon. Drive safe!” Jase agrees because he realizes his daughter won’t be able to talk for longer: she sounds flustered and will probably burst into tears as soon as she hangs up.

“I will daddy. Bye…” is the faint answer the King of LA discerns before the conversation ends.

That son of a bitch! Jase grinds his teeth, angered at the simple affirmation of what he feared for months: The Joker was the wrong choice and certainly didn’t deserve your affection.

You were in love with him regardless.

So what the hell happened?!

************

Five hours ago

You were beyond excited to see J after the four days business trip; your father had a special request for his daughter to help smoothing out a transaction with one of his main New York partners and you obliged. Things went better than expected: Y/N managed to finish the assignment a day earlier which made the anticipation of being reunited with her boyfriend feel like a well-deserved bonus.

You rushed out of the elevator straight into the living room at the Penthouse and your enthusiasm got cut off when you saw this woman wearing one of your silk robes nonchalantly organizing piles of money in a few suitcases scattered on the floor. Her eyes got big when she noticed your presence.

“You’re early,” the woman concluded, more annoyed than surprised. “Weren’t you supposed to return tomorrow?”

You gazed at her with contempt, unaware of how bad it was.

“Who are you?” you frowned, heart beating so fast it was deafening.

She smirked, taking it upon herself to brief the clueless Y/N about the truth despite knowing The Joker will go ballistic at her actions:

“I’m his wife you dumb girl.”

You seemed stupefied and she continued:

“He does this from time to time if it benefits us business wise. Though I have to admit one year is the longest I had to share him with anybody and I’m tired of it! My husband never tells me who the women are and I trust he’s doing whatever necessary to ensure our future. I’m sick of people not knowing he’s mine!” she raised her voice, jealousy taking over. “Who are you, hm? What’s so important about you that he didn’t break it up yet?” she got worked up, seeing that as her chance to unravel the mystery of The Joker’s lengthy relationship with the stunned Y/N.

“I’m the Godfather’s daughter,” you mumbled and her entitled smile died under the burden of understanding she messed up badly.

Damn, The King of LA’s offspring! That’s why the money was pouring in from all the transactions with the other gang, that’s why The Joker kept you for so long. Oh God, he’s going to lose his mind! He should have said something to his wife about your identity, at least this time around: you were probably his most ambitious and lucrative project ever. Unfortunately, his other half screwed up beyond repair.

J’s voice coming from upstairs got you out of trance:

“Who are you talking to Nessa?” and he starting descending from the top floor with a little boy in his arms. Half way through he realized you were there and abruptly stopped, prompting the child to complain:

“Daaaaddy, I’m hungry.”

The Joker gazed at the two women in his life and didn’t get the opportunity to reply the burning question:

“You have a child?!...”

Y/N ran out of the premises, unable to fully comprehend what she witnessed by mere coincidence. She took the stairs, stumbling and almost falling on the way down; her ears were ringing and she could barely see a few feet ahead which was much better than the aftermath of the encounter happening at the Penthouse.

The Joker put his son down and urged him to go back to the master bedroom, stomping towards his petrified wife.

“What did you tell her??” he yelled so loud it made her shiver. “What did you say??” J pushed her against the wall and Nessa took a stance despite the survival instinct advising of the opposite.

“I didn’t know she is the Godfather’s daughter, ok? I’m aware we’re doing this for us, but you should keep me in the loop! I didn’t know who she was. I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry???” he snarled and the eerie grimace on his face turned into genuine insanity. “You ruined all of it and you’re sorry?? Who gave you permission to open your mouth, huh?? I could have fixed this, I could have made her think I was cheating and patch it up!!!”

“Why are you so mad?...” she had the nerve to fight and J slammed her on the floor, livid at the defiant behavior. “Do you…do you actually like her??!”

“Shut up!” he kicked her and she couldn’t stop:

“Is that it?! You like her?!”

“I said SHUT UP!” The Joker got on top of Nessa and pinned her body under his, wishing to squeeze the life out of her with his bare hands for the total disaster she was responsible for.

“Mommy…” their three years old son whimpered, scared to see his parents like that; they were caught up in the feud and didn’t see Alexis sneaking downstairs. “Mommy…” the terrified little boy made his father postpone his rampage.

“You ruined my hard work,” he hissed and got off her. “One year down the drain and you have the audacity to inquire if I like her??! Do you know how much money we lost since Jase won’t do business with me after this??!!”

“I’m sorry baby,” Nessa kept on coughing and curled up in a ball.

Alexis couldn’t stop sobbing and The Joker lift him up, panting with indignation while trying to suppress his rage.

“Sorry won’t fix shit!!!” he screamed and stormed out of the room, leaving his wife on the floor, grateful to have escaped his violent attack.

**************

After three months

You are at your father’s mansion, organizing his numerous accounts and updating wire transfers that need immediate attention after the settlements negotiated during the previous day.

“Done?” he uses his cane to knock at the opened door.

“Yes, dad. Probably 10 more minutes and I’m out of here.”

“Take your time kid,” he comes in and takes a stroll around his spacious office, wanting to share what he just found out.

You are completely absorbed into your assignment and Jase analyzes your features, delighted as always to see so much of him in his daughter.

“Say Y/N,” he gets your attention,”wanna hear some news?”

“Hmm?” you lift your head up from the laptop, not overly curious to discover whatever he wants to share.

“Your ex nearly lost his life two days ago. Apparently an ambush. His wife was with him, my sources inform. She’s dead and he’s not doing well either,” your parent emphasizes the secret relationship and watches you squirm in your chair, startled at his unexpected revelation. “Is that why you left him?” the interrogation makes you hold your breath and he shakes his head, irritated. “You found out the jerk was married? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhale, cornered by the impulsive Godfather.

“Because I didn’t want the business partnership between Gotham and LA to be impacted by my personal life,” you blur out one of the main reasons for your silence.

“Business partnership?! When it comes to my family to you think I give a damn about monetary gain? Are you serious?!”

“I knew you would retaliate and I didn’t want him to think that I care. Because…because I don’t,” the sadness in your voice makes Jase calm down a bit.

“… … Why are you crying then?...” he pushes the box of tissue in front of his devastated daughter; you didn’t even realize tears are rolling down your face. Jase grabs your hand and pulls you up in his embrace, holding you closer when you start bawling your eyes out on his shoulder. “Nobody messes with my little girl,” he whispers and caresses your hair, somewhat discouraged by your objection:

“I’m 30 daddy,” you sniffle and bury your face in his shoulder again.

“Still my little girl,” your father grumbles, displeased his own flesh and blood thought she didn’t mean more to him than a few million dollars.

It’s clear you kept the secret for other reasons also, probably the most important being the embarrassment of finding out you were used and taken for an idiot by the man you obviously loved.

A whole year of lies and deceit…

The cut runs deeper when it comes from the person that meant so much it got you convinced to change your mind about not wanting children; The Joker probably laughed at your willingness to give him an heir when he already had one with his own wife.

The two of them definitely deserved each other, but he definitely didn’t deserve you.

***********

2 weeks later at your house

“What does he want?” you sneer after one of the guards entrusted with your security told you Jonny Frost is here to ask for a meeting.

“I’m not sure, he says it’s an emergency. He has a little boy with him,” Nixon adds and you put aside the book you’re reading, intrigued. “Should I let him in?”

You nod a yes and furrow your eyebrows as soon as Frost enters the lounge: he’s carrying Alexis in his arms, the child fast asleep after the exhausting journey from Gotham to Los Angeles.

“Hello Y/N,” Jonny greets and you cut him off.

“What do you want?”

The Joker’s trusted henchman had a speech prepared for the encounter, yet given the current situation and the bitter look on your face he has to be as concise as possible.

“Mister J is very sick.”

“How is that any of my concern?!” you resentfully interrupt.

“Boss has to undergo a few surgeries since he can’t walk or talk properly,” Frost colors the big picture with a few carefully chosen words. “He left special instructions regarding his son: Mister J would like you to take care of Alexis in his absence.”

“Get out!” you snap and stand up from the couch. “Get out!” you repeat, disgusted by his demand. “The Joker has plenty of resources and people to fulfill his instructions. I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!!!” you yell and the three years old is rubbing his eyes, almost woken up by the commotion. “How dare you come here and ask such a thing after what happened? Get out!”

“I didn’t know,” Jonny responds since he guessed exactly what you’re referring to. “I had no clue. And even if I knew, I couldn’t have said anything anyway,” his honesty doesn’t make it better. “Please take Alexis, I can’t go back with him; you know how Mister J is. Please Y/N,” Frost pleads and you bark:

“You have 20 seconds to disappear from my sight!!”

Nixon and four other goons approach, signaling Jonny to follow them because it’s evident the fuming Y/N is not thrilled with the uninvited guests. Frost has no other option besides leaving the premises, wondering how he’s going to explain his failure to The Joker.

“Ava!” you address the woman patrolling the western corridor of the house. “Have the crew ready in one hour, I need to pick up some diamonds from Enzo Neroni.”

Jonny is too far to discern the rest of the conversation and a simple plan flourishes in his brain: Enzo is one of the smugglers J uses on a regular basis also. Frost knows exactly where to find him and this might be the only chance that will act in his favor.

At this point he has nothing to lose.

************

“What is he doing here?” you point out at The Joker’s son as Enzo neatly places the purchased diamonds in tiny jewelry boxes.

“Uhh,” he shrieks. “Frost dumped him here until he can find a safe place for the kid. I guess his father will be out of commission for at least one month and he doesn’t want anyone messing with his offspring. I’m sure they’ll be some jumping at the opportunity. Get out of my way!” Enzo pushes the little boy and he falls on his knees, picking himself up afterwards. Alexis holds his teddy bear tighter, staring at all the strangers around and seems terrified.

“Can you not do that?” you smack your lips, aggravated.

“Do what?” Enzo halts his task. “You don’t want the gems in boxes? I can put them in pouches.”

“I was talking about the young boy,” you clarify your statement.

The smuggler lifts his shoulders up, defending his indifference.

“My warehouse is no place for children. Hey, don’t touch that!” he slaps Alexis’s hand when he reaches for a bottle of water on the table. “I didn’t say you can have it! I fucking hate kids,” he gives the three years old a mean look and it pisses you off.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask and snatch the water, opening the lid.

“U-hum,” Alexis barely manages to utter.

“Can I have this water or do I need permission too?” you mock and Enzo lifts his hands up in surrender, not wanting to initiate trouble. “Here,” you offer it to the little one and help him drink. He sure is thirsty since it takes a few good seconds before finishing. “Are you hungry?” and the child shrivels up, not answering your question. “Did you give him anything to eat?”

“No; I suppose I can send somebody to fetch some food when I have a moment,” Enzo groans and arranges the boxes inside the empty suitcase you came with.

“Do you think The Joker would be happy with that answer?” you frown and the reply bothers you more than it should:

“Mister J is not here, Y/N. I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

“Your best sucks!” you mutter and take the hasty decision that will change the future for the parties involved, even if you don’t know it yet. “Where are his things?”

“In my van. Why?” Enzo is curious to hear.

“He’s coming with me, that’s why! Nixon, get the diamonds,” you order the bodyguard and you extend the palm of your hand, waiting for Alexis to take it. “Come on, let’s go,” you force a grin on your face and the little boy stalls until you encourage him again. “Come on,” and the small fingers are finally trapped within yours. “Don’t be scared, it’s ok,” you walk at his pace towards the exit.

Once you and your team are gone, Enzo dials Frost’s number and informs:

“She took him.”

Jonny is not big on religion but feels that today he was granted divine intervention.

“Oh thank God! That was so close to disaster,” he sighs, relieved.

“You better tell Mister J I didn’t do anything to his son! You know she’ll talk, I don’t want him coming after me. Tell him I actually helped and it was part of the plan. Do you fucking understand? I don’t want any trouble!”

“I’ll tell him,” Frost reassures and Enzo hangs up, wondering if it was wise to get involved in the messy situation.

**************

“I’ll tuck you in,” you pull the warm covers on top of Alexis and he anxiously wiggles after another thunder strikes in the distance. “It’s alright, it’s just a storm,” you try to make the little boy relax.

You were gone for most of the day and Ava was left in charge of the kid; at least he was bathed, fed and changed in clean clothes, undoubtedly safe under your roof just like his father wished.

“My name is Y/N. What’s your name?” you adjust his stuffed teddy bear under the blankets.

“Alexis…” he shyly whispers and gulps when another strong thunder shakes the house.

“That was close,” you wink and he nervously whimpers, distracted by the loud noise.

“Whe’s mommy?” Alexis suddenly asks. “I…I want my daddy,” his eyes get teary because he doesn’t know you and he’s frightened.

A three years old can’t possibly fathom why he doesn’t see his mother anymore and why his dad disappeared also.

“They’re not here…” you bite on your cheek. “You’ll stay with me for a while.”

“I want my moommyyy,” the boy starts crying and you don’t really know what to do.

You get under the covers and pull him in your arms, attempting to comfort an agitated child that squirms to escape the stranger’s embrace.

“Ssssstt, it’s ok,” you keep on gently rocking him and another powerful thunder makes Alexis instinctively cling to your nightgown. “You’re ok, it’s just nasty weather. It will go away,” you caress his hair with one hand and use the other to hug him again. “There you go, don’t cry. It’s fine…” you smile and his eyes gaze into yours, totally immersed in your soothing presence. “Ssstttt, you’re good,” you cuddle with the kid, protectively holding him until his body is not tense anymore.

The Joker’s son is falling asleep and even if the raging tempest wreaks havoc outside, someone showing him affection after being tossed around all day makes him cozy. Alexis has no idea that the woman tricked into taking care of him has no obligation to do so; in fact quite the opposite. His luck has changed tonight especially since there are several groups interested in taking advantage at J’s present misfortune.

The secret is out and can’t be swept under the carpet: The King of Gotham was married and he does have a child. With many enemies lurking in the darkness waiting for a chance to strike, it’s a miracle it didn’t happen yet.

But a miracle never lasts for long and destiny has a funny way of making everyone pay their debts.

Or send unexpected help from a person that shouldn’t lift a finger in granting safe haven to a little boy that reminds Y/N of his father’s deception.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #mister j #Mistah J #mr. j #puddin #dc #DC comics #joker suicide squad #jared leto

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hollowedrpg · 5 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, LISSA! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Frank Longbottom. While reading you app, I could not only see the ways in which Frank has developed so far, but what’s to come for his character. Not to mention, your in depth description of his relationship with Alice. Somehow, you made Frank and Alice feel like people I know in real life, not just text on a page. Truly, your app was impressive from start to finish, and if I had to point out specifics on why I loved your portrayal, I’d be writing an essay.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

OOC.

Name: Lissa

Age: Twenty-Two

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: PST

Activity: I currently work full-time, but on my days off I would be fairly active. If I had to assign it a numeric value, I’d say maybe a 6-7/10?

Are you applying for more than one character?: Not currently, but I’m certainly tempted to!

How do you feel about your character dying?: Although I’d be pained to see him go, if it served a purpose and was well thought out, which I’m sure it would be, I could be convinced.

Anything else?: Nope!

IC Details.

Full Name: Francis Theodore Longbottom, but please, for the love of Merlin, just call him Frank.

Francis: It’s an old family name that has been handed down from progenitor to progenitor like some sort of sacred relic. He’s been told it can be traced back to the age of Merlin, to age of knights and chivalry, predating even Hogwarts’ crumbling stone walls—his first name, just like his last, is a reminder of their austerity, their contribution to the world of magic and Frank certainly believes it’s ancient. Only two individuals in all the world are allowed to use his given name: the first being his dear old mother and the other is his beloved wife, Alice. Still, whenever they use it, he has a tendency to “not hear them”—whether it’s accidental or purposeful is up to your interpretation.

Theodore: Of his three given names, he hates this one the least—perhaps, it’s because he hears with this one the least. Nonetheless, its meaning is, “gift of God.” In the past, he’d remind Alice that’s exactly how he expected her to treat him, like he’s been sent from the heavens above. It’d be enough to elicit a laugh from her petal pink lips, but that was a lifetime ago; now all they seem to do is haunt each other.

Longbottom: It’s a name that he owes much to and although he does not revere it as others do, it does amuse him that the name “Longbottom,” in all its ridiculousness, is included on a document detailing the “Sacred Twenty-Eight.″ Still, Frank is proud to be just that, a Longbottom, but for reasons that differ from his peers. His lineage, established eons ago, placed him in the upper echelons of their society, but ultimately it was what forced him out in the end. Sometimes he wonders how the others were raised; how they could all be so different, but yet so alike. He always comes to the same conclusion: none of it matters, everyone bleeds red in the end.

Date of Birth: December 20th, 1956—Sagittarius (Generous, Idealistic, Enthusiastic)

Former Hogwarts House: Gryffindor—it’s expanded upon below, but I can say he was very nearly a Ravenclaw.

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender/Pronouns: Cisgender Male; He/Him

Face Claim Change: N/A

More.

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you play them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

These key traits are expounded upon below:

Positive: Determined, Intelligent, Noble, Passionate

Negative: Stubborn, Selfish, Mercurial, Vengeful

As a child, he was all consuming. Always active and fussy for attention, wailing throughout the night until he was blue. For him, it was all or nothing; Frank could never do anything in half-measures. First, it began with securing Augusta’s undivided attention, then it led to thumbing through all the books in his family’s library even though some tomes were denser than Rabastan Lestrange’s skull. Once he was done with that, Frank set his sights on the land surrounding their vast estate, exploring like a New World cartographer, set on leaving no stone unturned. In some respects, it was an innocuous trait, but at times it would overtake him. Let’s call it what it was: greed with, perhaps, a touch of selfishness.

While at Hogwarts he tried and sometimes failed to keep his voracity in check. He pursued each of his passions to completion. Only when Frank was quite literally at a loss, did he meet absolution. His orbit was thrown and his world was shaken by the girl with the eyes like warmed honey. Just as he was a taker, Alice was equal parts a giver—it could’ve gone wrong in so many ways, but oh how it didn’t. She checked his greed, made him expand beyond his selfishness. They would’ve been untouchable too, if things had panned out better—for awhile, in fact, they were untouchable. But the truth is, it won’t be the Death Eaters that get him at the end of it all—no, his hamartia is his greed, his need for more. If anyone will be his undoing, it will be himself. Frank demands answers, blood for blood, and always more, more, more. It will never be enough though—nothing will ever fill this wound that’s been left raw and festering.

He’d be the first to admit that up until this point, his life has certainly been charmed. It’d be easy to credit his triumphs to the Fates or Felix Felicis or whatever dictates good fortune in your mind, but ultimately Frank is responsible for success he has found in life. Even as a child, he would make calculated moves in an upward direction—blatantly pursuing his life’s goals with a kind of singularity that can only be described as unrelenting. This contrasts Alice quite nicely; through the years she has allowed herself to be defined by her passivity. She is pliant like clay, permitting others like her mother or even Moody to mold her into another and to direct her course. Frank, however, is rigid in his ways; from birth, he’s been the one helming the ship. This is due to his privileged upbringing; Frank has always been afforded his own choices and rarely were there ever true consequences to his actions.

The best example of this juxtaposition is what happens upon graduation. Alice allows herself to become an Auror after Moody’s intervention, which differs strikingly from Frank, who actively sought out the position for himself. After years of honing his craft while playing Wizard’s Chess, he believed it would be the next best move and most natural transition. He was right. Swiftly, he rose in the ranks, planning ambush after ambush, mapping out elaborate plans on the backs of old Ministry memos; first alone, then with Alice. There were, of course, the occasional missteps resulting in broken limbs (mainly his own) and bruised cheeks (mainly Kingsley’s), but his track record was solid and became much more refined after Alice joined him. At the core of it all, although Frank prides himself on being a skillful tactician—it’s Alice who has bested him before; it’s Alice who dissects him and sees beneath the carefully crafted veneer. However, it’s his drive and perseverance that guides them into the breach of war and out the other side.

This is also what divides them, however; Frank cannot face the consequences or the mistakes he’s made in the past. He cannot concede defeat and admit to his misgivings. For all his talk about pragmatism, his emotionality over his son’s death is what clouds his mind. He was so used to being able to see ahead, beyond the superficial, that a failure of this magnitude is unforgivable to him. For the boy that was constantly planning and plotting, making leaps and bounds to outwit his opponents; first on the chessboard, then on the battlefield—Frank cannot make sense of it all. Now, his dogged cleverness is set upon a new quest, he’s tracing out all the connections he missed and catching new ones, but the question is: is this paranoia or foresight? He’d be remiss to say that sometimes, now more than ever, the lines do blur a bit.

In truth, he’s poisoned by his need for retribution and he knows it. His recent thoughts and actions have been some of his greatest acts of sabotage, but instead of setting upon the evil that exists in the world, Frank has been undermining himself. Brick by brick, he pulls the foundation of his life apart, stubbornly clinging onto rationality and order in a time where the world is in disarray. He claims he needs answers for justice, to comprehend how it all went wrong, but the ones that truly know him know he’s lying. In actuality, Frank is a hypocrite—he is blinded by his emotions, lost in the tumult of rage and despair. In his misery, he’s abandoned her and with his own hollow eyes he sees how she looks at him like of all the loss she’s experienced, he’s the freshest wound. Frank has always been Alice’s touchstone, but now he is lost to her and the whole damn world. This is what happens when the young hero escapes childhood unscathed by the world; the first taste of tragedy begets madness. It is who he is though.

However, when all is said in done, Frank Longbottom is good. Although he comes from a background rife with privilege, he has always had an innate desire to help others whenever he can. It was his steadfast nobility that got him placed in Gryffindor as a young child and his tried and true bravery that finally led him to the Order. Although there are instances in which he falls short of the mark, Frank constantly strives to uphold his House traits. Lately, it’s been difficult, to say the least, but somewhere underneath all the bitterness and fury, he still wants to do the right thing. The rest of the Order members believe in him—it’s just he’s lost faith in himself.

How has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

In truth, the whole business of war had been easier before Neville. Life was just another game to him and with Alice by his side, there was no fear of losing. He collected Death Eaters like trophies, using stratagem he learned from playing Wizard’s Chess to ensnare them. Each capture of theirs served as a checkmate; each threat of retaliation echoed the petulant cries of a sore loser. Frank liked playing hero; he liked engaging in this act of rebellion against his blood. After all, what did he have to lose?

Once Neville was born however, his perspective shifted. He was no longer interested in the thrill of it all, but instead, he sought to make his young son proud of his father. It was then he noticed once unmasked, these enemies of his were characters that dotted his boyhood, friends of friends, and not just casualties of war, but also of his life’s story. It was perhaps a cautionary tale, that it was not nature that separated him from the others, but nurture. Even then though, Frank hadn’t learned his lesson. He didn’t take the betrayal seriously enough, not until he crossed into the Malfoy’s foyer and recognized the wand pointed inches away from his son’s forehead, thin lips speaking into existence Death and all the tragedy that came with Him. In a flash of green, life as he knew it ended and stupidly, Frank never saw it coming.

Now, quite frankly, he’s adrift—lost to Alice, the Order, and even to himself. In his grief, Frank has become unmoored, detached from reality, and living in a hell he has constructed with his own two hands. He is plagued by his willful ignorance, obsessed with the questions he holds himself accountable for: the who, the what, the why, and the where—but perhaps the greatest of all his questions, the one he can’t bear to answer is: how did he let this come to be?

Where does this character currently stand? With those who wish to hide in Godric’s Hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? Why?

Frank is suspended somewhere between grief and madness, just one soft shove away from crossing that fine line into insanity. What happened that fateful day was more than just a tragedy, it was a trauma that is now etched into the very marrow of his bones. Everyday, the memory takes root and haunts him without provocation or any hope for repose. When Alice screams in the dead of the night, it mirrors the image he has of her and her pretty face, mouth agape as their child grows cold. In this, he doesn’t know how to comfort her or soothe her. He can offer no solace as he cannot find any himself. This boy who had grown used to having all the answers, used to having the world right at his fingertips, has collapsed in on himself like a star half-extinguished somewhere deep in the universe.

In truth, he’s just numb to the plight of others now. Frank is drowning in his sorrow, too self-involved to notice Alice’s suffering, too blinded by his need for vengeance, and too bent on forcing the world to finally make sense again. He will not divert from his course despite what the other members say. How can he let this go? How does he stop it from swallowing him whole? In these moments, he can’t imagine the future, much less build for it—not when it was already so deliberately snatched out of his grip. For now, he’s on his own side, his son’s side, and whether she believes it or not, he’s never not on Alice’s side.

How is Frank looking into the death of his son? Does he have any theories about what happened? Where did he get those theories?

Frank has always been a damn good Auror and although his world has tilted on its axis, this is a fact that hasn’t changed. If he’s honest, a fair number of his theories are more conspiratorial than founded in reason, fed by his voracious mind that knows no rest and knows no peace. It’s his futile attempt to make sense of the senseless, but nevertheless, with each deep dive he takes into the rabbit hole, the light around him dims.

The other handful of leads he’s chasing down do have some truth to them though. Some may say his interrogation tactics have gotten more aggressive, but their complaints fall on deaf ears. They showed him no mercy, so it’s only fair if he returns the favor.

Currently, his most favored theory is that there is a traitor in their midst—how else would his son have ended up there? It makes him wary of the other members, distrustful of their outreached hands. His suspicion nearly borders on paranoia, intensifying whenever he has a particularly sleepless night. Whoever it is, taunts him; they toy with him and leave him tortured by his own thoughts. Frank will persevere, however—there will be an end, he’s sure of it.

Extra.

If Iwere a _______, then I’d be _______.

If I were a season, I’d be summer, but not the days at the beginning that are filled with childish wonder and boyhood adventures—no, those days are long gone—I am midsummer, when the sun is seemingly always at its apex, beating down relentlessly, and the air is so languid and sweltering that it feels like the world is aflame.

If I were a time of day, I’d be late afternoon.

If I were a place, I’d be an empty shore, abandoned after the storm came and went.

If I were a type of weather, I’d be a cloudless sky.

If I were a scent, I’d be smoke dissipating in the breeze, fresh linen, and pine.

If I were a plant, I’d be English Ivy, unkept and unruly, invading the flora and fauna around me, bent on expansion and progress at whatever cost necessary.

If I were an element, I’d be fire.

If I were a color, I’d be slate grey.

If I were a song, I’d be “As It Was,” by Hozier.

If I were an item of clothing, I’d be a wrinkled white button-up, wearing at the seams from years of care and use, much-loved but in need of repair.

If I were an object, I’d be a pawn.I used to think of myself as the rook, capable and cunning, but in the end it was all a charade.

If I were one of the seven deadly sins, I’d be greed.It eats me whole and it eats me alive.

If I were one of the seven heavenly virtues, I’d be diligence.

If I were a god/goddess, I’d be Prometheus. For my defiance, Godhood has been stripped from me and all that remains is torment.

#hp rp #rp #marauders rp #lsrpg #roleplay #accepted

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werevulvi · 6 years

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I... probably should have known this would happen to some degree or another, but somehow I wasn't prepared. I think I've lost 2, if not more, friends. Both trans. Obviously due to my views on trans stuff having changed, and me daring to be vocal about it. Like what else...

One of them still interacts indirectly with me on facebook by liking some of my comments/posts, but he has seemingly stopped speaking to me, since about a month ago. I've only met him online, since about a year or so ago.

The other one... well he's the trans guy I had such a huge crush on for several years but he didn't reciprocate my feelings, and we even thought of each other as pretty much best friends for a couple of years, then drifted apart a bit but kept in some kind of contact. Until I broke up with my ex Y. I know that Y (whom I broke contact with cause the relationship went bad for us both) most certainly warned my friend about me being a "toxic" person, and unfairly so.

Since then he hasn't said a single word to me, or even acknowledged when I've made friendly comments on his posts, etc. And I just now noticed he has blocked me here on tumblr and unfriended me on facebook. Without a word. We were friends for over 10 years, maybe 12. It does hurt, but I do understand. No reason for me to be mad at him about it or try to contact him. It's his choice. And most likely because of what I've posted and reblogged here recently, which I know is entirely on me. But it's just hard to see that friendship die like that.

Cause these past few weeks or so, I've been suspecting more than usually that my best friend has abandoned me just the same as well. Like I felt the last few gasps of our friendship dying, and I've panicked. She always sends me a text message for Christmas. She didn't this time. I could have sent her one, but then I couldn't. My heart sank too much. Her birthday is tomorrow, as she turns 30, and I can't decide if I should force myself to send her a hopeless "happy birthday" message or not, still desperately holding on to a dying breath.

I've been thinking about writing her a letter, by hand or something. To tell her that I never wanted to lose her as a friend, but that I've felt it was coming to this for a long time, and that I'd accept it if she wants to move on, but can't pretend it doesn't hurt. If only I had her new adress... or her email. I do have her parents' adress though. Worst case scenario I could go via them, and ask them for her adress. I was always on good terms with her mother. She'd know it's not something I've done wrong, to cause me to drift apart from my life-long friendship with her daughter. Or I could just write the letter to have for myself if I can't figure out where to send it.

I'm pretty sure she unfollowed me on facebook sometime around spring last year, when I completely stopped getting any sort of notifications from her. I used to check her profile page every once in a while, maybe once or twice a month, cause my feed was getting too cluttered and she didn't post often, so I kept missing them. Her posts were mostly just about her kid which I couldn't relate to, so I mostly just gave it a "like" or "love" but didn't say anything, cause I just had nothing to say. I checked again just now cause had forgotten for a few weeks... but her facebook page is gone. She never told me. I dunno what's going on. She's had that account for as long as I've had mine... 9 years, and never even went inactive before. But now it appears her account has been deleted. You don't just do that for no reason, right?

Her husband is still on facebook and on my friend list, but I think he unfollowed me too, cause I haven't gotten any response from him for a really long time either. I used to be close friends with him too, since before they got together some 8 years ago. Last I ever heard from either of them was an invitation to a party, in the city they live in, back in November. I didn't go, cause I was in a terrible mental state due to my detrans-tragedy and couldn't handle traveling so far with flights and all. They didn't say anything to me, it was just a plain fb invitation, no explanation or anything. I thought it was odd and it gave a bad gut feeling. Not that long ago, but the next last thing I ever heard from them was when I texted her about my detransitioning, back in July, and she just stopped texting me back after a couple of days, without notice, which upset me. Before then... I don't remember.

I guess our friendship wasn't worth more than that to her. I guess I was right after all. That her boyfriend, then later husband and then her kid all just mattered a million times more than I ever did to her. I was the first person she ever knew except from her parents, when we were 2 years old and met in kindergarten, and instantly liked each other. We were classmates from grade 0 to 9th grade. She had a few other best friends until we really connected at age 12. I was never into her romantically or sexually (despite my gayness and her beauty), and she's super straight, but we did get a lesbian reputation in late elementary school, cause we were always so close. Losing her does break my heart, but why can't I even pick up the phone to text or call her?

I lost her the moment I moved to this island 6 years ago, cause I had noticed she seemed to care less about me a year earlier, and I think me moving halfway across the country was the death blow... and I never managed to rebuild my life since then, while her's flourished. Am I jealous? Well of course.

Early in life, we basically had the same potential... then we both had some issues with mental health, but she found love, got a job, got married, got a kid, bought a house, lives in the city we both always loved... whereas I got too fucking traumatised, wasted my 20's getting a sex change I then regretted, moved to an island I also regretted and can't move back, ended up in a series of shitty relationship with men until discovering I'm a lesbian, I'm single again, living on sickness compensation in a place I hate, with my anger issues, tragedies and inability to function well enough to even get a cat. How different life can turn out for two people, even though we were always so similar in personality, behaviour, humour, interests, lifestyle, the life goals we had, and even in our looks. I think about that sometimes, and how much I struggle to be happy for her. I guess I just got the short straw.

But even though I'm jealous that life went so much better for her, at least I still always cared about her as a person and the friendship we had. At least she always remained in my mind and in my heart. For recent years I've kept imagining I held onto her by my pinky finger, but my grip kept slipping by the day, as we drifted apart more and more. I think our bond is now broken. She let go of my pinky finger. That hurts more than I can let myself feel right now. How long were we best friends for? If I count up until today... then it was 17 years. And how long have we known each other as friends for? 28 years. It's a 28 years long friendship in our 30 years long lives. How she can just shake that off and move on, I don't understand.

The physical distance shouldn't matter... but it was what made her take distance from me, little by little. Like slowly pulling off a band aid. I should have been there with you when you got married. I wasn't. I should have been there with you when you got your daughter. I wasn't. I'm sorry I failed you, but you failed me too. Soulmate sister... may our past friendship rest in peace. I will remember you.

Every single memory I have of her flashing before my eyes. My entire body hurts. I feel nauseous. I can't process this, I don't want to feel this.

Correction, I've lost 3 friends.

#long rant #personal #sad post #lost friendships #feeling heartbroken #losing a life long friendship #like literally #i used to think this could never happen to us #but i guess everything is possible

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hamonsurveysoverdrive · 4 years

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Ornery

Can you say you are fully happy right now? No, but I'm in a decent place. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? I have no idea. Is there someone who stopped talking to you for no reason? Sure. Did you ever get called horrible names like (whore, skank, bitch)? Yepp. Where did you sleep last night? The couch lol Ever slow danced with anyone? Yes Ever cried in public? Yes Ever feel safe in someones arms? Yepp What would you do if you were pregnant? Freak out, and figure out how to afford an abortion lol Are you afraid of letting anyone in? No. Do you like cuddling? Sometimes. Ever cry in school? Sure. Who is the last person to send you a message on facebook? Krystle and Kelsi. Do you look decent when you wake up? Rarely. Have you ever been given roses? Yes. Had a long distance relationship? Nope. Does it bother you when people never answer their cell phones? Sure. Do you care what happens in politics/your government? Of course. Ever been called babe/baby? Yepp. Have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act (not necessarily sex)? Yepp. Where did you get drunk last? At the T, in 2017 What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? She's my mother. If someone went through your pictures, would they find a dirty one? Yes. Do you want to see anyone right now? Sure. Have you ever fell asleep in someone’s arms? Yepp. How long does it take for you to fall asleep at night? Not long. How many pillows are on your bed Two. When’s the last time you cried? Idk. Is it cute when a guy buys you flowers? Yes. Will things change in the next month? Doubt it. How did you do on the last test you took? I got a 100. Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t? Sure. Are you afraid to grow up? I'm 32. Are you busy tomorrow? Not especially. How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? Mm, like 8 months maybe? Do you give out second chances way too easily? Yes. Has anyone told you that you’re amazing? Sure. How many black shirts do you own? Uhm, a bajillion. Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? I better be lol How come you’re not going out with the person you like? I am, though. When you feel cold does eating warm food help you feel warm? Yes. Do you want to diet? I mean, I'd like healthier eating habits, buuuuut Are you a patient person? lol No. Are you unsure about your feelings for someone? No. Who did you last hang out with? Krystle, Marshal, and Drew. Would you take $40,000 or a brand new car? $40,000, because I could still get a car and have money left over. What song are you currently listening to? Nothing. Are you happy with your relationship? Yessss. Who was the last person to smoke something other than a cigarette or weed in front of you? Uhm, well I don't know any meth heads or crackheads, so none??? Does anything on your body hurt? My neck is a little sore. If the last person you kissed were calling you right now, would you answer? Yes. In the run of a week, how many times do you straighten your hair? Like, zero. Are you mad at someone right now? Nope. Last thing someone gave you? A ride lol Who woke you up this morning? My alarm clock. Who is your favorite family member on your mom’s side? Only Daylin. What do you do in your spare time? Smoke cigarettes, play games, read, hang out with friends. Who was the last person you were under a blanket with? Justin. Where is the last person you kissed? Either at home getting ready, or at work already. What was the last thing you ate? Chicken strips with guacamole salsa. Which of your friends is the most likely to get pregnant right now? My friend Laurissa is pregnant. Do you remember the meanest thing the last person you kissed ever said to you? Yes. What does your last outgoing text say? "Okay." Have you ever been called prince/ princess? Maybe jokingly. Waiting for something? A million dollars to fall from the sky, into my lap. Have you kissed anyone when you’re single? Uh, yeah. What are you doing this weekend? I don't think I have anything planned, except Christmas shopping. Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette? Not happily, but yes. Have you ever kissed someone who was in a relationship? Yes. Where is your biological father right now? At work. Where is the biggest scar on your body? The top of my head. How late did you stay up last night? Like, 1? Have you had your birthday this year yet? Yepp. Exactly a month ago. You had to kiss the last person you texted, would you? No, that's still my mother. What would you call your body type? Curvy. Are you a morning person? Noooooo. Have you ever been to Target? Chyeah. Do you like iced coffee? Sometimes. When is the next time you’ll be at work? Dunno. Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Yes. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? No. Ever made a prank phone call? When I was a kid. Does your mom vacuum early in the morning, when you’re sleeping? I don't live with my mom. Have you ever been in a car accident? Yes. Have you ever been in a fist fight with someone? Yes. Have you ever seriously hurt anyone by mistake? Not seriously, but I gave a guy a bloody nose on accident. Have you ever had stitches? Yes. And staples. Name a time when you had to be strong. All the time. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? I mean, my parents are divorced but I was an adult and it didn't really affect me. Have you ever lost someone close to death? if so, how many? Yes. Enough. Have you ever had any volunteer jobs? Yes. Have you gone through a lot emotionally growing up? Yepp. Has a boy/girl ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend for you? Yepp. Do you want to see someone this very minute? I don't need to, but I wouldn't be upset if they showed up. Are you happy with the way things are going? Mostly. Are you a forgiving person? Too much so. Do you have to check in with your parents before you go someplace? No. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? Yepp. Describe how you feel about your life in the past month using one word: Exhausting. Would you like to go back and change any part of your life? Maybe. When will your next kiss be? Next time I see Justin. Last person you saw other than your family? Krystle. Will tomorrow be better than today? Today hasn't been too bad. Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? Not especially. What’s going through your mind right now? How fucking tired I am and how much I want a cigarette. When’s the last time you had fast food? This past weekend. Do you believe that there’s good in everybody? No. Is it okay if you kiss people when you’re single? Of course? When was the last time you saw someone attractive? Monday. What was the first thing you did when you woke up? Turned off my alarm. Think back eight months ago, were you single? Yes. What do you carry with you at all times? My wallet, purse, phone, keys. Are you okay with the life you live? Some aspects. Do you have a Tattoo? I have ten. What other piercings would you get other than the ones you already have? I've been thinking about getting my lip done. Did your last kiss take place on a bed? No, a garage. Have you ever been to Disney World? Yes, twice. If so, how many times have you been? ...Twice. Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? Yes. Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? Yes. Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? Yes. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Yes. Is your vision good? Not at all. Is your present hair color, natural? Yepp. What was the last thing you ordered online? Another present for the kiddos. Have you ever worn color contacts? No. If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? Basically three years. Where are your parents as of now? Mom is probably at her house, Dad is at work. Do you follow a certain religion? Nope. Do you have any family members who live out of town? Yepp. Do you consider yourself short? No. What room are you in? The dining room. Do you listen to any country music? Only if it's Dolly Parton, Loretta Lynn, or Shania Twain. Do you ever watch Lifetime? No. Would ever consider having children in the future? Not more than I already have. Have you ever lived on a farm? God no. Do both of your parents have jobs? Yes. If you had the chance to move to a completely different state, would you? Depends. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? Nothing. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? Everything. What food are you craving right now? Sleep? How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? Like 10. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? A shit ton. Do you have a friend you can tell stuff to and you’re sure they won’t tell? No. Would you ever get someone’s name tattooed on you? I'd rather not. Does your family have family picnics? We have one every year at our family's cemetary. If your doctor said you were pregnant, what would you say? "SCHEDULE AN ABORTION NOW."

#survey #surveys

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captain-zajjy · 7 years

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Solstice, Chapter 29 - A Final Fantasy XV Story

Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character

AO3 | Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

A/N: FINALLY hitting the character moment for Ignis that I envisioned when creating this story way back when. I hope it works for you :)

Ignis had wanted to prepare a large breakfast using a few things he’d been saving for a special occasion, but Valeria insisted he do not waste them on her father’s account. So, he served their usual morning meal of dry toast with the thinnest smear of berry preserves. Before Ignis could apologize for the paltry spread, Mr. Soleil smacked his lips and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That sure hit the spot.” He even sounded like he meant it.

“I- it did?” Ignis blurted out.

“Couldn’t even tell you the last time I had bread, to be honest,” Mr. Soleil said. “All they had at Galdin was fish, fish, and more fish.”

After finishing his own toast, Ignis immediately went to the refrigerator and replaced the fish filet he’d set out to thaw with what remained of a behemoth steak Gladio had brought him weeks ago. It was barely enough for two people, let alone three, but Ignis had high hopes that a bit of red meat, however small, would go a long way in impressing the man. Valeria might not have cared what her father thought, but he certainly did.

And so, when Valeria left the two of them to have her first shooting lesson with Prompto, and Mr. Soleil asked Ignis if he’d like to accompany him on a stroll around the market, Ignis was left with a dilemma.

He desperately wanted to show her father that he was capable, that he wasn’t a burden to whom Valeria had to constantly play nursemaid. On the other hand, Ignis still struggled with the cacophony of the market; he hadn’t gone by himself since Valeria had joined him in Lestallum. Have I become too dependent on her? Even if he could manage by himself, short of forcing the man to wear some sort of bell, it would be impossible for Ignis to keep track of Mr. Soleil in the crowd.

Putting his pride aside, Ignis nodded. “I shall join you.” He wanted to spend time with this man, the father of the woman he loved, get to know him and, Gods willing, obtain his approval.

Ignis donned his gloves and took up his cane, easily following behind Mr. Soleil in the familiar confines of the apartment building.

When the stink of the city streets assailed his nostrils, Ignis cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, moving it up Mr. Soleil’s back to grip his shoulder.

“If it’s not too much of a bother…”

He felt Mr. Soleil shrug in response. “Not using that shoulder for much, anyway.” His body was tense at first, as it always went with people guiding Ignis for the first time, but quickly relaxed when it became apparent that the only thing Ignis required of him was to proceed as he normally would.

“I can usually manage on my own,” Ignis heard himself say. “It’s just that with the crowds and maze of the market, it’s difficult to keep track of one’s companion, and I believe Valeria would be very cross with me if I lost her father on his second day, so I-” He knew he was babbling, and clamped his mouth shut. “I very much appreciate the assistance.”

Again, Mr. Soleil shrugged. “Not a problem, son.” Did he really not care? He certainly sounded indifferent, but Ignis felt that old specter of self-doubt rear its ugly head once more. Was he not thinking, ‘this is what my daughter has to put up with every day?’ Blast you, Ignis said to the intrusive thoughts.

“So tell me - how does a son of Tenebrae come to serve the Lucian crown?” Mr. Soleil asked as they set out down the street.

It was a question Ignis had been asked many times before. “I was a small child when I immigrated to Lucis,” he explained. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

“So you got out of Tenebrae before the Niffs moved in, huh?”

Ignis nodded. “Had I not, I suspect I would have perished during the Empire’s Purges.” That had always struck him as the bitterest irony: he was alive today because his parents had died then, before the Empire had taken the country and eradicated the ruling class.

“Blue blood, eh?” Mr. Soleil asked.

“A minor noble house,” Ignis admitted. “And now, a nonexistent one, since the Empire abolished all titles and seized all holdings.” He knew he ought to feel some kind of sadness when speaking of the fate of the country where he was born, but, in truth, he felt very little. His uncle had said nothing when the news broke back on that fateful day over a decade ago, but had appeared ashen-faced, cleaning their already-tidy apartment in an aimless, mechanical way, like the walking dead. Ignis had not been able to understand, not until another fateful day in the near-past, when Insomnia was taken.

“Damn,” Mr. Soleil muttered. “They even killed the kids?”

“Root and stem.” There was a logic in that - cold and cruel, as logic often was - and part of Ignis loathed himself for being able to see it.

“Did you like your job?”

Such a simple question, and yet it nearly knocked Ignis off his feet. Did I... like it? It was his duty; his personal feelings were irrelevant. And yet, here was someone asking, by all appearances in earnest.

“It...it was my whole world. For better or for worse.” Ignis knew that wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

Of course he liked it. Everytime Noctis asked for his counsel and heeded it, he liked it. Every time King Regis had favored him with an approving nod for a task completed, he liked it. Every time he did something that, in its own small, insignificant way benefited the people of Lucis, he liked it.

And he loathed it. Noct’s apartment covered in trash, the calls just as he’d finally settled into bed, the disparaging looks from the Lucian uppercrust at the foreigner who’d been chosen over their own flesh and blood to serve the Prince. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that last one any longer.

“Never been one to hold down a job for long, myself,” Mr. Soleil said. “I know, I know - try to contain your surprise.” Now that they were in the thick of the market, he frequently stopped and paused, humming tunelessly to himself.

“May I ask what you’re shopping for?” Ignis asked.

“You can, but I ain’t gonna tell ya. It’s a surprise.”

Ignis frowned. “I believe Valeria will be rather vexed by a ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Mr. Soleil replied, flippant. “And this way, you can tell her you didn’t know anything about it.” He clapped Ignis on the back. “Just looking out for you, son. I know she can be nasty when she’s mad.”

Well, yes . Ignis knew better than to agree with him out loud.

“Still, not half as bad as her mother,” Mr. Soleil added offhandedly with a low whistle. “That woman, Gods rest her soul, could punch you in the gut, then kick you in the balls with a single sentence.”

Ignis lowered his voice. “You have my condolences on your loss.”

“We all lost something that day.” Ignis surmised that, glib as he was, Mr. Soleil’s former wife was an understandably sensitive subject.

“Indeed.” We all lost something....starting with our innocence.

“You’re probably wondering how someone like her ended up with someone like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to pry…” But, yes. Ignis had wondered that from the moment he’d met the man all those years ago.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too. Ol’ Viv sure was a piece of work. Ambitious, smart as a whip - I didn’t mind living in her shadow - that was alright.” He cleared his throat. “Once the company started getting real big she changed - or maybe that was who she really was all along. Hell, I don’t know. I just couldn’t take being treated like one of her damn employees, you know? But, she was the mother of my child. And for that, Vivienne will always be important to me.”

Mr. Soleil stopped abruptly. “Ohh,” he said. “Here’s what I’m talking about.” Ignis sidled alongside the older man as he chatted with the vendor, trying to make himself less obtrusive to the aimless throng of passers-by. He didn’t think many people actually did much shopping anymore - the market was simply a place to go, to idle away the hours until one’s next paltry meal, to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that pervaded the city’s population.

“Barter only,” the vendor said off to Ignis’s left, as something metallic clinked on the counter. “Don’t have any use for money these days.”

“A wise man,” Mr. Soleil crooned. “But this isn’t gil. This here’s ancient Solheim money, genuine, one hundred percent silver.”

“Don’t have much use for silver either.”

“Oh, but you will!” Mr. Soleil’s voice radiated confidence, assurance. “Silver’s an investment in your future. When all this is over, who knows what the gil will be worth, if anything. But silver? Always worth something! Way more than just these few things here.”

Ignis heard something rattle as it slid across the counter.

“Hmm…” the vendor responded.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me.” Another coin clinked as it was set down. “Double or nothing.”

“Fine,” the vendor relented. Ignis tried not to chuckle at how thoroughly the man had been foxed.

“Thanks for doing business, my man.” There was the rustling sound of a paper bag, and then Mr. Soleil gave Ignis a nudge. Ignis placed his hand back on the man’s shoulder and they continued on their way.

“A silver tongue runs in the family, I see,” Ignis mused.

“Heh, well...I ain’t good at much - or anything, really. Just talking to people.”

“An extremely valuable skill, under any circumstances.”

“Eh. I guess.” Mr. Soleil paused. “Hey. Isn’t that my daughter’s necklace?”

“Oh.” Ignis resisted the urge to bring his hand up to the chain around his throat. “Well, I...she, er, gave it to me.”

“Ohhh.” The sing-songy way Mr. Soleil crooned reminded Ignis of Prompto. At least he isn’t angry. “You two go way back, then?”

“Since the Academy. First year.”

“That’s a good thing to have these days. Someone you know you can trust, that ain’t gonna go up and bonkers on you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis nodded, ruminating on just how fortunate he’d been in that regard. Not only did he have Valeria, but the Amicitias, Prompto, the Marshal - all people he’d known for years, people whose intentions he never had to second-guess.

With his shopping concluded, Ignis took Mr. Soleil to pick up his ration vouchers, explaining how Valeria had played a pivotal role in establishing the food bank that now fed the entire city. On the way home, they stopped somewhere - Ignis wasn’t entirely sure where, exactly - to sit on a curb and ‘people watch,’ which seemed like it would be terribly depressing, but since Mr. Soleil was apparently quite keen on it, Ignis went along.

Since he obviously could not watch the passersby, Ignis instead worked on drumming up the bravery to ask a very important question.

“Sir, I…” Ignis plucked at his collar, nerves suddenly causing his stomach to churn. “I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

Mr. Soleil let out a hearty guffaw, and Ignis’s dark thoughts immediately began to swirl. Is that really such a laughable request? Have I read him all wrong?

“Damn, kid. You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Er-”

Mr. Soleil clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Here’s some advice - typically, you wanna ask that question before sharing a bed with the lady in question.” Ignis felt his face flush hot, stammering out something that was half-apology and half-explanation, making very little sense.

“You’re both adults,” Mr. Soleil went on, still chuckling. “Only person’s permission you need is hers. Besides, it ain’t like she ever cared what I thought before.”

“I care,” Ignis asserted, despite his embarrassment. He knew her mother never would have approved, and even less so now. But there was still hope for her father.

Mr. Soleil’s laughter tapered off into a lengthy silence. “Huh,” he finally said, sounding more surprised than amused. “You sure are an odd one. But if you want my blessing or whatever, then okay. I know people, and I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Odd, but good.”

Ignis felt relief flooding his limbs and warmth filling his chest. Good. A good person . He’d never really thought of himself as such; he was just someone who had the fortune to serve good masters.

“Er...thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Although Valeria had serious reservations about leaving Ignis alone with her father, it wasn’t in her nature to break off an appointment at the last minute, especially when Prompto had so generously offered his time and expertise, asking for nothing in return. Before leaving, Ignis had reminded her that he was able to advocate for himself - his very polite way of telling her to back off.

Valeria sighed as she made her way to the high school. What was the worst her father could really do to Ignis? Make a cruel joke at his expense? Maybe she was just projecting her own fears onto him. Because her father had hurt her, cut her down to the core, and he could absolutely do it again - if she let him. I’m not a little girl anymore, she reminded herself. I don’t need him anymore. What a lie that was.

Fortunately, Prompto provided a welcome distraction. “No Iggy?” he asked after greeting her.

“He’s entertaining a guest,” she replied, praying Prompto didn’t nose into the matter further. He whistled, but let it go, and she followed him to the school’s gymnasium.

“Got the place to ourselves for the next hour,” he said. Toward the back of the large room, a human-sized target had been strung up on a crude pulley system between the basketball hoops. Upon further inspection, she saw that the target was a photograph of an older man, blown up to life-size, its subject sporting auburn hair, a striped scarf, and a sickeningly smug grin.

“Ardyn,” Prompto explained, his usual sunny disposition suddenly uncharacteristically dark.

It took Valiera a moment to place the name. “The Imperial Chancellor.”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto had turned his attention to loading his special rubber bullets into a small revolver.

She turned back to the photo. “This guy is the Chancellor? He looks like a bum.” He wasn’t wearing a uniform, not even a badge of office.

“He is a bum. And a lot of other words Iggy says I shouldn’t say in front of a lady. So-” Prompto handed her the gun, then took a step behind her. “Put a couple between his eyes for me, will you?”

Valeria turned the weapon over in her hands and exhaled deeply, trying to recall what she’d been taught back in high school. Target shooting, along with archery and fencing, had been part of the physical education curriculum, not to train future soldiers or even for self-defense, but because, for Insomnia’s elite, such things were - or had been - considered leisure activities, sport, a way to pass the hours when you had no real obligations on your time.

She raised the gun, both hands on the grip, and took aim at the Chancellor’s forehead. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and the recoil startled her, jerking her arms backward. After composing herself, Valeria turned toward the target, noting a small hole along the man’s hairline. Okay, not exactly between the eyes.

Valeria shook her head, let her heart rate come down, this time aiming lower. By the time the six rounds were spent, she had decent grouping in the target’s face.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Prompto handed her six more rounds, which she loaded much slower and more clumsily than he had. When she looked up, Prompto was behind her near the basketball hoop, tugging on a string.

“How about a moving target?” The cut out of the Chancellor danced along the rope as Prompto pulled it. Oh Gods …

Valeria tried to track the movement with the barrel of the gun, but her first two shots missed the target entirely. Then she tried leading it, but went too far, ending up with only two of the six shots hitting the Chancellor at all - in the side of his arm.

“Well, you winged him.” Prompto gave her an encouraging smile and handed over more rounds. They repeated this until his supply of rubber bullets was spent, and Valeria stared at the target in frustration as Prompto gathered up the spent casings and rounds to be reused. In all of that shooting, she’d hit the target in the chest exactly once, and the majority of her shots had missed it entirely.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said with disgust. There were few things she hated more than failure.

“What?” Prompto said. “It was your first time!”

“Yeah.” Valeria gestured at the target. “And I’m terrible.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody’s good at stuff their first time.”

I am, she thought. And if I’m not, I don’t do it again.

“You’re too tense.” Prompto pointed at the target, encouraging her to take aim with the unloaded gun. “See, your shoulders are up at your ears. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax if this thing were trying to kill me?”

Prompto chuckled. “Just like Iggy. Overthinking everything. You just gotta keep practicing.”

Valeria handed the gun back over with a deep frown. “Thanks, Prompto. Sorry I’m such a crappy pupil.”

“Bah.” Prompto threw up his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, you wanna see something cool I’ve been working on?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering just what she might be getting herself into.

Prompto led her to a small classroom on the second floor. Most of the student desks had been removed or pushed aside, the teacher’s desk and floor were littered with an assortment of wires and electronics.

“Just gimme a sec to get it set up.” As Prompto scuttled about, Valeria turned toward the front of the classroom. Someone (likely Prompto) had drawn a chocobo pecking at a stick figure whose hair was reminiscent of Prince Noctis on the chalkboard.

Next to that was a bulletin board, the border of which was decorated with a colorful pattern made from layered construction paper and a various shapes of a hole punch. If something had been hanging there before, Prompto must’ve taken it down, and replaced it with photos that had to have been taken while he and the others had been on the road for Prince Noctis’s wedding.

Some were posed, many were candid, and Valeria was struck by just how content they all looked in one another’s company. A shot of all four of them with their car at Hammerhead Garage, Gladio leaning on Noctis outside of a diner, Ignis sitting by a campfire drinking his coffee. She knew that while these photos were taken she had been stuck in Insomnia, frightened and hurt, still reeling from the loss of her mother, but Valeria didn’t begrudge them their tranquility here. She was glad Ignis and the others had been able to have this time and these experiences together, knowing what misery the world had in store for them later.

“Those were the best times of my life,” Prompto said, standing next to her, looking at his photos with a faraway smile. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they let me tag along.”

Valeria tore her gaze away from the photo of Ignis and turned to him. “Is that why you joined the Crownsguard? Adventure?”

“Nah,” Prompto replied. “Noct’s my best friend. A job that’s basically just hanging out with him all the time? It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t.”

“It must be hard for you now.”

Prompto shrugged. “He’s gonna come back. Until then…” He gestured at the photographs. “And I’ve started tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Check this out.”

Prompto had cleared the teacher’s desk, leaving only two rectangular lights the size of her fist, crudely linked together with electrical tape, wires spilling out the back and hooked to a pair of large batteries.

“Are those...flashes? Like, for a camera?”

“Yup!” Prompto replied. “Studio grade. Super bright. My first idea was to convert them to something like a flashlight, but it drained the battery way too fast. So, I slowed down the timing on the flash so that it fires for a couple of seconds, instead of like, half of one. It still needs some tuning, but right now I can get about five shots out of one battery.”

“Huh.” Valeria took a closer look at the device. “For daemons?”

“Yep. Got the idea after we fought that monster one back at the Fort. A few seconds of light probably won’t kill the big guys, but it should mess ‘em up pretty good.”

Valeria imagined it was similar to dousing someone in boiling water - even if it cooled right away, the damage was already done. “So, you won’t have to be Gladiolus to finish them off.”

Prompto snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Here, let me show you.” She joined Prompto behind the desk, and he leaned forward to flip the switch. “Uh, you might want to cover your eyes.”

“Then how can I see how it works?”

“Just sayin.” With one hand over his eyes - and his face turned away - he flipped the switch. The room instantly filled with brilliant white light, so bright she felt it searing through her eyes and right into her brain. Valeria shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, but it was too late. Her vision swam with white and yellow and violet starbursts, her head throbbed, and she clung to the desk to keep herself upright.

“Gods, Prompto!”

“I warned you!” he said. “But...it’s pretty cool, right?”

Valeria rubbed at her eyes. Splotches of the classroom began to return here and there, but her vision still swam with the blinding light. “I think that ought to do it. Stars above,” she muttered. She was still seeing them. “Don’t you think you should have safety glasses or something if you’re going to work on this stuff?”

“What, like goggles?”

Valeria sighed, wiping her watering eyes. “Goggles, sure. They make them like normal glasses too - or, they used to anyway. You seriously work on electronics without any safety gear?”

“I like to wing it,” he replied with a grin. How are you even still alive ? “I think I might have put some gloves or something in the desk.”

Shaking her head, Valeria began to rifle through the drawers. She found a large amount of school supplies - markers, glue, paper punches in various shapes - and eventually pulled out a clunky pair of clear goggles missing the strap.

“I’ll take this stuff to the market,” she said, putting the things in her jacket pockets. “See if I can’t trade it for some actual safety gear.” Now that she was finally able to see clearly again, she favored Prompto with a smile. “This is a really good idea, Prompto.”

“Oh, well…” He rubbed a hand over his reddening neck. “Just messing around, really.”

“I’m serious. This can save lives. Just... don’t hurt yourself in the process, okay?”

Valeria returned home to find Ignis in the kitchen and her father in the window sill, the top half of his body concealed behind the blinds. Before she could even ask, Ignis greeted her.

“Welcome back, my dear. How was your lesson?”

“It was...not good,” she admitted, never taking her eyes from her father. The only thing worse than being bad at something was having to admit she was bad at something.

As Ignis began to offer some words of encouragement, her father chuckled and hopped out of the window. “So, what - you miss the target once or twice?”

“A lot more than twice. What the hell are you doing?”

“I asked several times,” Ignis said from the kitchen. “He wouldn’t say.”

“Yeah, so don’t yell at him.”

Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me.”

“This, pumpkin - this here is a gold mine.” Her father pulled up the blinds and lifted a terracotta pot almost reverently. A small lamp had been placed next to it on the sill, which she immediately identified as a UV lamp meant to mimic the lost light of the sun.

“A planter?” Valeria asked skeptically.

“Seeds.” Her father poked his finger into the soft soil filling the pot. “Tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” She let out a noise of disgust. “Really, Dad? Not food?”

“Alas.” Ignis let out a crestfallen sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for some fresh herbs…”

“Not half as what the nicotine addicts will pay when the cigarettes run out,” her father quipped, a shit-eating grin on his face. Just another one of his idiotic schemes.

“Like you’re not going to keep it all for yourself,” Valeria muttered.

“Well…” Her father winked. “You never know. Might be room for another pot or two here, too. As you’ll see,” he made an exaggerated demonstrative gesture, “everything’s tucked away, nothing underfoot. You won’t even notice it’s here.”

Except for the ridiculously bright lamp, Valeria thought with a frown, although she knew her father wasn’t really referring to her. All the things he’d acquired, even the bag of potting soil, were gathered on the window sill, and the cord of the lamp had been taped against the wall - an eyesore, but not a tripping hazard, and that was all she really cared about.

With no real reason to chastise her father further, Valeria was forced to relent. After he finished raving about their afternoon meal, she told both men about Prompto’s invention - and his apparent lack of safety concerns. The three of them spent the rest of the evening listening to the radio; Valeria and Ignis were beyond sick of the reruns, but her father laughed at every joke.

That night, laying in bed, she shamelessly watched as Ignis undressed, feeling her pulse quicken as the broad muscles in his shoulders and back worked and rippled as he moved. She remembered back in high school when she’d first noticed his shoulders and chest getting wider, noticed just how much taller he was becoming relative to her, and the multitude of strange, confusing feelings that accompanied those observations, feelings she had kept deep inside for so long. And now, if it hadn’t been for her damned father, already sound asleep and snoring a few feet away on the couch, she could have acted upon those feelings at long last.

Valeria couldn’t help her disappointment when Ignis covered his bare torso with a thin undershirt and crawled into bed alongside her. Swallowing all those things down, as she had time and again, she rolled onto her side, facing Ignis as he laid down on his back.

“Okay,” she began, her voice low. “Tell me how it really was being stuck with him all day.”

Ignis’s lips parted in concern. “Your father,” he whispered. “He’s...he’s right there.”

“Can’t you hear him snoring? He’s not going to wake up unless we start shouting. Trust me.”

“I suppose ‘snoring’ is relative, but if you say so,” Ignis muttered. “It was a perfectly pleasant day. Truly.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” She studied Ignis’s face, striped by soft orange light that filtered in through the slats in the blinds. He didn’t look like he was lying. “He didn’t call you names and do everything in his power to embarass you?”

“He can be a bit crass,” Ignis admitted. “But there’s no malice in it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

Valeria frowned. “He left me. He abandoned me.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t made mistakes in the past,” Ignis said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around her back. “But given all that’s happened in the last year, I consider it a small miracle not only that you’re both alive, but have managed to find one another here.”

Valeria bit her lip. She knew he was right. “It scares me,” she admitted.

Ignis reached out with his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Why?”

“Because he hurt me. And I...if I let him in, what if he does it again?”

Ignis let out a knowing sigh and pulled her close. “You are strong. I suspect you can handle just about anything this world will throw at you. I admit I don’t know him well, but I believe he cares for you. I really do.” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble and buried her face into Ignis’s neck. “Oh… Have I upset you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a lot,” she said, managing to keep herself from crying. Valeria didn’t even fully understand all the overwhelming emotional baggage that accompanied the topic of her father, let alone possess the ability to articulate it. “I…” She’d already forced herself to face daemons - was her father really so frightening? “Okay, Iggy. I’ll try. But old habits might be kind of hard to break.”

“Ah,” he said after planting a soft kiss on her temple. “They really are, aren’t they? Even so, I’d daresay that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Valeria snorted. “I think your opinion of me is a little inflated, but thanks.”

Ignis smiled as they fell silent, appreciating the quiet comfort of each other’s company. After a while, he spoke. “Am I really your boyfriend now?”

Valeria couldn’t help but laugh. “That didn’t get past you, huh?”

“Few things do,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well…” Valeria nuzzled her head into his chest. “Of course you are - if you want to be. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Perhaps such an admission should have been accompanied by embarrassment, or apprehension that her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, but for Valeria, it was simply stating a fact. There was nothing to fear, because she knew Ignis felt the same. She turned her head to see him swallowing hard, adam’s apple bobbing at his throat.

“That is…” Ignis’s voice was trembling, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The last thing she had expected was to distress him.

Valeria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. “What is it?”

“I…” Ignis cleared his throat. “I never thought I was someone who could be loved.” Valeria began to speak, but he shook his head, so she let him continue. “All these years, I contented myself with being needed. I… I thought that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I-” His voice broke.

“Oh, Iggy…” Valeria wrapped her arms around him, planting kisses along his scarred cheek. “You are loved - not just by me. Gladio, Prompto, Prince Noctis - they’re your friends. They don’t just need you; they love you. We all love you.” Different kinds of love, but one was no less valuable than another.

“When I was injured, my friends, they… I was helpless. I could do nothing for them, but they stood by me.” A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and Valeria wiped it away with her index finger. “When they wanted me to stay behind - and I know it was only out of concern for my well-being - I couldn’t bear it. I knew it was foolish, and it was dangerous, but it was as if all my fears were being realized: I was useless, no longer needed. The only value I saw in myself was in what I could do for others. If I was needed, then at least I...I wouldn’t be alone. ”

Looking at the man now, Valeria could see the boy who still lived buried deep inside, small and frightened and solitary, and her heart broke for that child who had lost his parents and his home, thrust into a strange new city filled with unfamiliar faces. Even if her mother had sometimes made it feel like her love was conditional, even if her father had made it seem like his love was only available when it was convenient for him, Valeria still knew her parents cared. They were still there, in her life, even if it wasn’t always when and how she wanted them to be.

Ignis might not have had that as a child, but he had a family now. Her, and the Amicitias, Prompto and Talcott, and of course, Prince Noctis.

“You’re not useless, Iggy. I need you,” she whispered, rubbing his cheek. “I need you, and I love you.”

“You don’t need me,” Ignis said, sounding almost pleased. “If something were to happen to me, you might grieve, but you would get by. You could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t end up taking ill from the mound of trash accumulating in your living room.”

In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Valeria giggled.

“That was only half a joke,” Ignis went on. “There was a time - a long time - when, if I didn’t do Noct’s chores, they simply wouldn’t get done. And I suppose I encouraged that, enabled his laziness in a way, to ensure that he continued to need me.”

“But he’s your friend.” Ignis’s hairstyle had begun to come undone, and Valeria pushed away the stray locks that had fallen forward into his face. “You don’t have to do anything like that so that he’ll keep you around.”

Ignis’s lips quirked upward in a smile, a smile that was tinged with sadness. “I- Yes. I understand that now. It certainly took me a while, but I understand, and I want to show him that when he returns. I want to thank him for being my friend.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“And you.” Ignis turned his head toward her, his hazy right eye looking through her, into the darkness only he could see. “Thank you. Thank you. For loving me, and for showing me that I am someone worthy of love.”

Now she was crying. Despite her best efforts to keep them contained, the tears began to fall. Ignis held her and kissed her softly on the mouth, and for this moment, at least inside the space of their narrow little bed, it felt like everything was finally as it should be and all was right with the world. Like all the terrible things that she’d seen and felt were somehow alright, because they’d led her to this time and place, in the arms of the man she adored.

“When this is all over,” Ignis said, wiping the moisture from Valeria’s cheeks. “Well, I hope you haven’t grown tired of me by then.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is my job - my duty - to advise the King of Lucis. Not to do his laundry. Anyone can do those mundane chores.” Ignis paused for a moment before continuing. “He will be surrounded by sycophants and people trying to further their own interest. What Noct will require isn’t a servant, but a friend, with whom he can speak plainly, and trust to tell him the truth, to keep him grounded. Which is all to say, I will no longer be working sixteen hours a day. Of course, if you still want to-”

“No,” Valeria said quickly, grinning from ear to ear. “That was a life someone else wanted for me. I want to help rebuild Lucis, but I want to be with you, too. And since everyone else seems to be able to balance work with their personal lives, I think we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Ignis was smiling as broadly as she was. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ff15 #ffxv fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfiction #ignis scientia #ignis #ignis x oc #prompto argentum #prompto

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sugar-petals · 7 years

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Hi , would you be willing to do a merman jungkook x reader smut ?

Sublime (M)

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