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#the authors note mentions that the story concept started with a line about the god and ritual and…..yeah I can kind of tell

etoilesbienne · 4 months

Note

Nice to see that apparently we’ve all read it runs in the family. It was my guilty pleasure fic and i didn’t expect to see other people talking about it. I started reading it like a month after i got into bad and dsmp and i was /obsessed/. It’s one of those fics that changes your brain chemistry and makes you stare at a wall after reading it. To this day im still subbed to it on the off chance that it gets another chapter.

like genuinely its an enamoring fic it has an odd premise but like the author has so much potential in, like, being able to write genuinely engaging narratives. i'm shocked at how much setup is put into the work and you can tell where the narrative is going in a way that's like watching a trainwreck. You know exactly where it is going but the journey of getting there is so fascinating to watch.

anyway i want to ramble about what i liked and what i didn't like in the fic. so. huge reader discretion advised, go look at the other warnings i posted about this fic before reading this (also spoilers for the fic ahead)

like part of its most interesting facets is it is one of the few fics that tackles this sort of heavy subject matter of assault and kidnapping and doesn't really shy away from how genuinely negative it is and can be. like don't get me wrong ive enjoyed other psychological horror before, but it was, like, nice? to see the "pets" all be like genuinely upset and respond realistically to the situation they're in. no "they really like it secretly" undertone.

not a criticism but my favorite part of this story is the random ass normal human names they try to give everyone. they made skeppy have a white ass last name. bbh's name is Bad Halo. purpled doesn't even show up but his name is mentioned to be, like, "nolan purpled but he goes by purpled because his cheating whore of a mom named him nolan and he hates her" genuinely funniest line of the whole fic one of my favorites i can never ever forget it. i need to find all the human names in this theyre so fucking funny.

also badboyhalo? while he IS woobified and made much more demure and defanged, he's still like... that IS badboyhalo. his moments of complete suspicion at every encounter. his doubting. refusal to break the mould and rock the boat out if fear something bad would happen. VERY badboyhalo sentiments. also the fact the writer knew about skephalo divorce. going to be honest, looking at how their other work contains a6d, i think the writer was/is a bbh watcher. and then the schlatthalo. the fact they made schlatt ask to curse? and then bbh laughed when he did? this person understood both of these guys. they did their homework. schlatt isn't a megalomaniac evil villain one note. i don't know if i'd call both of them "in character" per say, but i can definitely say they had consistent characterization and i could understand how their characters got to these versions.

also the technohalo multifaceted concept? techno seeing bbh as too innocent? putting bbh on a pedestal and denying his humanity in that way? WILD. the setup and writing was all there for, like, bbh using his body and manipulating techno to turn against phil.

like the good parts of this fic are such crazy highs and peaks it makes the lows look so much worse.

speaking of which: wilbur soot.

by god is wilbur soot not a character, he is a force of nature and just continuous digging deeper on trying to fix a problem the writer accidentally started. none of sbi really are fleshed out or rounded characters, but wilbur soot is like by far getting the worst treatment. im not even a wilbur fan LOL.

he's supposed to be a schizophrenic serial killer which already isn't a great start, and then you watch the writer realize the issue and try to fix what they've started. this is when schizophrenic medicated slimecicle comes in. followed by badboyhalo looking at the camera and going Not All Mentally Ill People Are Bad. which was just really funny in such a morbid way. but then the writer DOES go in an interesting direction with phil denying his condition and refusing to help him get medicated. however with the slimecicle medicated moment it comes off as a medication = The Good Mentally Ill Person narrative. genuinely i dont know how id solve the wilbur issue without extensive rewriting. he's just a mess.

phil i think is one of the most interesting of sbi, being made into a central antagonist and a genuinely good villain. his scenes have well made tension and poses actual threat and stakes to the narrative. he's a good villain! techno has an interesting arc with bbh but just isn't given enough screentime and doesn't have much beyond "brute to be manipulated" which sucks a little. tommy is tommy. only one of sbi i could see not dying in a fire at the end. wilbur, despite his other issues is a narrative driver with his capriciousness, but the schizophrenia plotline is such a mess that he just is not a person here, he's a plot device more than anything.

more abstractly i do wish they committed and, like, had sex scenes or were blatant about sex happening. like they keep dancing around it but so much of the fic does not make sense if sex isn't what's occurring here. like i get subtlety if the avoidance of sex is what they're aiming for! but its okay to, like, maybe make it more clear whatever techno and bbh have going on is obviously sexual, because that can be used to advance the narrative and make it more clear bbh is using his body to manipulate here, because that'd be a good plot point to continue the themes and motifs of the story. i also just do not know how else to interpret the relationship lol.

my other biggest criticism is make it less misogynistic. the only three named women are the dead samsung smart fridge (who is now a dead mom named samantha), minx the alcoholic witness, and puffy, who is somehow ranboo's mom. like the ableism is horrific here but its so over the top stupid in the ableism, while the misogyny is subtle and just reeks. genuinely why is puffy ranboo's mom that sucks so fucking bad. make her be his aunt or guardian or something. but mom? c'mon.

i rambled way too long lol there's more i can say but this fic is my roman empire. the writer has so much potential but just needs more life experience to understand mental illness and misogyny. also a beta reader to fix their formatting. and maybe make their dialogue more human. shoutout to ranboo giving his name and phone number to tommy after tommy literally fucking tells him he'd "make a beautiful corpse" CRAZY exchange. no human would do that.

#asks

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mylordshesacactus · 4 years

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okay you know what, while I’m complaining about things on the internet: the way people generally handle book recs on this site is.....bad.

Do you KNOW how many posts ostensibly serving as “rec lists” I’ve seen that are basically just....representation checklists? “Here’s a list of books with LGBT protagonists!” “Here’s a list of books by Black authors!”

[id: “Ah, great! What is it.” gif.]

You gonna tell me what any of these twenty books are, like, about?

The format is a) annoying b) unhelpful and c) doing an active disservice to books you’re clearly trying to get other people to read, but rather more importantly...

d) Reducing the entire concept of literally any book not by white authors about cishet white protagonists down to “basically interchangeable, right?” is not nearly as progressive as you seem to think it is. And yes, many of the book recs are a little more specific--”Here’s a list of fantasy books by Black authors!” “Here’s a list of sci-fi books with trans characters!” but you are all still badly missing the point of a RECOMMENDATION post.

I am ALL FOR making big long lists of great, diverse book recs! But for god’s sake--y’all have GOT to start actually reccing the BOOK instead of the only information provided being “Has a lesbian protagonist!!!” That is not a book rec. It’s just not. It doesn’t tell me ANYTHING I need to know! The very, very best book rec posts I’ve ever seen deign to include things like major trigger warnings, and even that I’ve only seen like, twice.

Please, for the love of god, if you’re making a book rec list, actually rec the BOOKS and not just whatever #representation they have. That means, at the VERY LEAST, including the:

Genre.

GENRE.

What the book is like, about.

The TONE.

If at all possible, the narrative style.

Please note that by “genre” I don’t just mean “But Jo, I did include the genre! I said this was a list of fantasy novels!” That’s nice.

Lord of the Rings is fantasy. So is Percy Jackson. What genre is the fucking book.

Genre: Is it high fantasy? Portal fantasy? Modern mythology? Is it military sci-fi? Is it hard sci-fi, heavy on technical details? Within the sci-fi or fantasy genre--is it a coming-of-age story? Is it a mystery? Is it a political thriller? A gunslinging adventure? A survival story? A magic-academy setting?

Seriously, Are You Planning To Tell Me What The Book You’re Ostensibly Recommending To Me Is, Like, About? I’m not asking for spoilers. Lord of the Rings is about a young man named Frodo Baggins, the gently-raised nephew and heir of a respected gentleman farmer in the quiet fantasy-British-countryside. When his uncle mysteriously announces that he’s leaving and then disappears at his own birthday party, events are set in motion that leave the rather naive young Frodo in possession of a powerful, deadly artifact--and the Dark Lord who created it has already sent his most powerful servants to reclaim it.

Boom. Done. Tell me SOMETHING that actually helps me decide whether this is something that I might want to look more into. Are the characters thirty or thirteen? Are they members of ruling houses, or farmers, or space smugglers, or pirates, or Navy officers, or what?

The TONE OF THE BOOK dear CHRIST. I have seen, on actual book rec lists, incredibly hard-hitting, grim, brutal novels presented next to generally-lighthearted, PG modern fantasy. And that’s great! Different things appeal to different people, and tone and genre and content do not dictate one another. But like, tone-wise--is this Star Trek: TOS, or Battlestar Galactica? Is this Return of the Jedi, or Revenge of the Sith? Is this mystery a noir novel, or a Scooby Doo episode?

I need to know that to know whether I’m interested! If I go in looking for a serious, high-concept, flowery medieval fantasy and you give me Discworld, I’m going to come away unsatisfied even if I would otherwise love Discworld.

Narrative Style: If there’s something interesting about the way the story is told, and you’re trying to pique the interest of a crowd of strangers...maybe like, mention that! Share an excerpt of a particularly representative line, preferably from early in the book!

I saw Gideon the Ninth on SO MANY rec posts and was never interested in the slightest...because it was never presented as more than “Lesbian necromancers in space! What more could you want?!” Well, some fucking information about anything else in the book, for one. My partner got it and started quoting me non-spoiler segments, and the writing style was so DELIGHTFUL, and Gideon’s narration and perspective so much fun, that I devoured the entire book in like three hours.

If you want people to read the books you recommend, you have to tell us things about them.

#book recs

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alluringjae · 3 years

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all i do is wait - kdy

All I Do Is Wait | So Close

⤑ summary: one day, kim doyoung was alive. the next, he wasn’t. he left you and the world too soon, but he made a promise: to look out and wait for you until the very end.

⤑ pairing: doyoung x female reader

⤑ word count: 22.7k

⤑ genre: angst (so much longing), major slow burn, fluff (if you squint really well), slight unprotected smut (not my forté) | ghost!doyoung, hotel del luna!au, slight college!au, 40s to 90s!au (loads of flashbacks)

⤑ warnings: death, grief, explicit language, sexism (screw the patriarchy omfg), mentions and scenes of alcohol, drinking, smoking, war, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, and abortion, ghost possession of humans (in like one scene only tbh)

⤑ long author’s note: minors, beware of the warnings! i highly recommend you watch the kdrama beforehand so you would understand the universe, even if majority of the characters are from my imagination. i also did some prior historical research. though there are inaccuracies, this story is just fiction. importantly, i don’t own the hotel del luna series; they serve as the main inspiration but with some of my twists. i’m also bit rough with writing lately, so there’s also room for improvement. overall, prepare your heart.

i cried so much in the process.

italicized texts symbolize conversations in a dream call. *wink* *wink*

⤑ gif above not mine, ctto! leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

After all decades of waiting, it’s finally time.

As a soul still wandering in the living world, Doyoung’s options were limited. To peacefully go ahead into the afterlife or wait for his lover by working in the hotel for ghosts until she passed.

He’d chosen the latter, the betrayal he felt from the deities to have gone so soon.

And leave you behind.

But first, let’s take a trip down Doyoung’s journey; life, death, and after it.

1948

Kim Doyoung came from a well-off family. He was a university student, taking up journalism as a pre-law course. He wanted to right the wrongs and let justice prevail. Blessed by his privilege, he wanted to be of service to others who cannot afford it.

Both of you crossed paths at a university in Busan as seatmates. Right after the South Korean constitution granted women’s rights to education, immediately you aimed high and applied for the top universities in the city. After being homeschooled and self-studying under the books, the opportunity to go to an actual school was like a dream come true especially when you received acceptance letters from all of them.

Your first impression of him was that he was moody and quite snobby. When you politely asked him once if you can take a peek at his notes because you lost track of the professor’s lecture, he refused with an annoyed glare.

“You should try harder then.” You nodded in gratitude anyways, taking those words to encourage you. Though it still stung.

When classes that day concluded, you were so ready to return to the women’s dorm and take a breather from men. Since you were far from your village, maybe you would give a call to your father, your mentor all your life to seek his guidance on your professors’ lessons. Once you found your bike and placing your books on the basket in front, a light tap on your shoulder caught you off-guard and almost made you topple over.

“Oh, sh-”

“Oh my, I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

When you directed your body to the source, it was none other than Kim Doyoung. He removed his blazer from class, resting it on his arm. He wore these suspenders and leather loafers, sporting the rich, preppy boy look. His eyes looked softer, apologetic by the way he gave a slight pout.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was rude of me to shun you like that.”

Unfortunately, it was rare to find young men like him to own up to their mistakes When you’re the only woman in that class, the majority of the boys are either snickering with judgment at your presence.

“Women are only meant to stay at home.”

“She’s weak. She won’t last here with the deep, legal terminologies the professors use.” Those insults aren’t new to you.

Doyoung seemed like a plot twist in the social narrative. You were surprised, to say the least, yet relieved.

“Oh, it’s okay. Considering I interrupted you from listening to the professor, I could’ve waited after class or as you said, study harder.” You accepted.

Doyoung still felt awful for his attitude, fiddling his briefcase. He struggled to express himself through words, understanding why many had this impression of him being cold. If he were to be honest, his actual initial impression of you was that you were hardworking and resilient, setting a new example of the modern woman. He thought that being too soft on you in class may look degrading, thus his statement from the class was just him treating you the same way as other boys who don’t study hard enough. Unfortunately, it backfired completely.

As a man who grew up with the belief to always pay respect to everyone without discrimination, he had to make it up to you somehow.

“It’s still wrong of me to say that to you, (Y/N). So-” He trailed on, opening his case to bring out one of his notebooks. Without hesitating, he handed it to you. “I took as many notes from the lecture on fallacies here. If there’s any way I can help you in the future, I’m more than willing to help you.”

This newfound kindness from a boy in this patriarchal university may be the silver lining in your current stay. You weren’t too sure if you would get a chance like this in the coming years, so you gladly took it. Noticing the engraved “K.DY” on the lower right side of it, which were his initials, it’s easy to identify that he was rich. But his attitude was different than the others.

Placing it carefully in the front basket, you steadied your body to the handles and pedals of the bike. “Thank you for this, Doyoung. I will return it to you as soon as possible.”

Knowing he was of help to you, he flashed a gummy smile. “No problem, (Y/N). If you want, we can review it before class too just in case the professor gives another surprise quiz.”

You let out a laugh, being reminded of your horrified face on a previous surprise quiz in the past. “Oh god, I flunked that quiz! Damn him.”

Ever since that conversation, it’s where your friendship started.

Going to university became more enjoyable and less daunting, having Doyoung defend you from other boys (even if you’ve told him so many times that you can handle it). After you found out that Doyoung’s status was more elite than you assumed, a lot of boys wouldn’t want to try and test him since their family lines would be at risk. You had a better focus on your academics, and if it weren’t for you, other girls attending university with you would’ve never thought women students would befriend the men. You were the shift in the narrative.

As lucky as you are to have a female support system in the patriarchal university, you found yourself always hanging out with Doyoung. He was filled with so much compassion in his heart and there were beliefs that you both surprisingly shared in your conservative society, deepening your bond. One of them was the sexist view of women as low-status people. He told you one time that thinking that way is like thinking his loving mother is undeserving of things in life. It’s an unacceptable concept, he added. You even met his mother at some point, and she’s a sweetheart.

Another was having the frustration towards those who shame on women who want to study and learn rather than to submit to the power of men so early in their lives.

“I’m so sick of people telling me to stop studying and settle down with some random boy. There’s just so much to learn out here!” You complained. It was one hot weekend that time, and you were both relaxing under the shade of a big tree by a flowing river. That spot is hidden, thus claiming it as your spot. Doyoung leaned by the tree reading while you rested on his lap. At this point, you’ve grown very comfortable with him. Doyoung sighed, putting his book to discuss his thoughts.

“Agreed. You seriously deserve so much better, (Y/N). People today just don’t get it.”

Huffing away that stress, your head tilted to get a better view of Doyoung.

“Doyoung, do you think things will get better for women in the future?” He admired your hopefulness in times of trouble. Stroking your hair to soothe you, he gave a positive reply.

“If we keep fighting for it, then we’ll progress. So let’s not give up, okay?” Your heart couldn’t help but leap.

As he looked at you with blooming flowers from the tree in the background, it was a matter of time where your initial feelings for him diverted into something more. The concept of butterflies in your stomach was only introduced to Doyoung in novels, but he wondered if it’s the exact feeling he was getting from you. From your intelligence to your sharp tongue to fight back the rude boys, the list goes on all the traits that he liked about you.

Weeks later, the questionable status of your friendship changed after he unexpectedly kissed you for the first time while stargazing at your special spot. It caught you off guard at first as your lips froze, him pulling away immediately. He rubbed the nape of his neck out of embarrassment, struggling to maintain eye contact with you.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I screwed up everything, didn’t I?”

As much as the heat in your cheeks increased, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. You’re bold enough to do it again.

“Nope,” you shook your head at him. “Kiss me again, Doyoung.”

Like a movie, the first snow of the season drizzled down on the two of you.

Feeling braver, he leaned forward again to meet your lips again. You may not be experienced physically since it was your first, but that’s what all those romance novels you’ve browsed through are for. Forget the fireworks, people would compare the ideal kiss. It was more like everything paused so this moment can run on its momentum. Lips still locked, Doyoung gripped your waist so you can sit on his lap. As the friction intensified, his lungs needed to breathe for a second. Pulling away slowly, it was an opportunity to take a good look at you. Flustered, messy hair, swollen lips, he would’ve never known that the feelings were mutual.

“First kiss under the first snow? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

1950

Dating Doyoung gave you the best two years of your life. He’d bike with you to your spot, recommend you new books to read, cook for you when you’re too lazy to at the dorm, and take you around the city he was ever so familiar with.

“Oh c’mon, let’s try this out!”

You dragged his arm to this new contraption that can take your photos in a flash. This was at an annual city fair, your first time to attend one. Because your small village couldn’t cater to these kinds of events, you beamed with excitement with all the amusement outlets such as rides, games and more. All Doyoung wanted was to eat and play few games, then return. He wasn’t much for photos, but because it was your first, he decided to go for it. Two people couldn’t fit the cushion, so you settled on his lap. One arm wrapped behind his neck, you inserted a few coins to activate the machine.

“So we have a few seconds before it starts, so you better smile, okay?” He ordered you based on the instructions of the machine.

The first shot was matching grins, the second showed your bright smiles, the third let your creativity wild with silly expressions, and the last was him pecking your cheek unexpectedly. The authentic surprise was captured.

“Let’s take another one so you can have a copy.” You insisted, searching through the small pockets of your purse for more coins.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. I don’t want-” He was cut off by the machine activating again as your coins entered inside.

“Too late, smile!” The first shot almost caught Doyoung in a frenzy, but he pulled it off with an open smile. The second expressed your laughter from your slyness, him sporting crinkled eyes when you let your tongue out and placed your hands near the temples of your head to mock him. To sort out your playfulness, Doyoung surprised you by grabbing your wrists to place them back on his shoulders. Without a breath, one free hand tugged you closer and his lips shut you up. You deepened your kiss by leaning forward and fisting the hems of his buttoned-up top. Kissing back was natural, not caring where you were and if the camera snapped your moment of intimacy. Doyoung always liked taming you with his kisses. You didn’t mind making out for a bit in the booth if it weren’t for the loud knocking from the side put a stop to your risqué antics.

“Yah! Take your making out session someplace, other people are waiting outside!”

The both of you could care less, laughing mid-kissing at the disturbance you’ve caused. It’s a thing when you’re young and in love, perhaps. Eventually, innocent kisses ignited an invitation to his bed.

“I’ve never done this before, but I want to do it with you.” You gave your full consent, laying on his soft bed in your undergarments. His entire family went on vacation, so you took advantage of it.

The way he crawled on top of you, his slender hands spreading your legs wide open like another novel waiting to be unraveled. Erotica was a genre you never explored, but Doyoung finds it as his guilty pleasure. Who would’ve known that the most prestigious, gentleman-like man of the university found amusement in sex? His lingering touches intoxicated your entirety, allowing him access. His tongue did you wonders, releasing these sensations you’ve never known was possible. Tugging on his hair as he passionately devoured your core for the first time, this knot in your core unwound and your vision went white for a split second. This rush of pleasure and exhaustion filled your veins, yet you craved more.

That night, giving each other your virginities, marked the first time you declared your love for each other.

Though there are times when dating wasn’t easy either, having prying eyes around you with judgment and the unavoidable stress from university, you’d sort things out in the end. After all, it’s in fights and arguments where you learn more about each other and grow from it.

If someone asked you to settle down already, Doyoung is the first candidate for your hand. You’ve sent letters to your parents talking about him and met his family.

“You’re the only girl who softens him up in this society of uptight men.” His mother whispered when you helped her wash the dishes after dinner.

As much light he brought to your life those two years being together, it turned into the worst and something questionable when the Korean war began.

You vividly remember the day Doyoung admitted to you his enlistment in the South Korean army. It was mandatory for men his age to serve. His dream to pursue law was to be put on hold, especially when schools were closing down. Though he’d try to confide with himself that serving in this war is another way to help his country, his nationalism outweighed his fear of death. Just as long as it brings them closer to a better tomorrow, he was willing.

Unfortunately for you, you were terrified shitless because again, it’s a war. If your childhood wasn’t enough to recall all those painful emotions from the past world war, you didn’t know what would. Being able to survive is a miracle, so there was no way you would let Doyoung go. The ignorance you gave towards him to protect your heart, moving to your aunt and uncle’s home in the same city after the university suspended classes since going back to the village was a big struggle.

So many villages have been bombed already, increasing your anxiety. All you hoped now was to be reunited with your family safely. It’s a good thing though they already left as soon as they could and are on their way to the city. One normal day while you were teaching your younger cousins how to read, there was a knock on the front door. Since your aunt was busy cooking dinner, you took charge to open it in hopes you’ll find your family on the other side.

However, it was none other than that someone you still couldn’t face just yet. He wore the familiar dark green uniform with black combat boots, his fluffy hair fully shaved even it’s covered by his hat. By the dirt on his face, he must’ve trained earlier that day. With a heavy backpack behind him, he’s on his way somewhere but you didn’t know where. You closed the door behind you so you can speak to him privately.

“What are you doing here, Doyoung? How did you find me?”

“I knew you didn’t want to talk for a while, so I gave you space. But today, I found out that I’m going to be stationed in Seoul tomorrow.”

Seoul was where most of the war was happening. Your heart was shattered.

“So I went to your dorm, but your roommate told me you moved out and gave me this address here.” He answered honestly with this new burden to top it off, not having the courage to look you in the eyes to avoid crying. “I needed to see you, (Y/N).”

“Doyoung,” within those times of separation, you re-evaluated if running away from him was the right choice. Even if he tried to convince you of the good things about being in the army, everything always comes at a price. War meant his life was uncertain daily. You just wanted him to yourself, to stay by your side, to help out in the war in other ways, but it would be selfish to stop him from his goals. So you gently embraced him, making him drop his bag to the side. With extreme fear comes your soft whimpers against his chest. Rather than running away so fast, you should’ve mustered all those remaining bits of courage to spend it with him. He must be feeling terrified too.

“I’m just scared for you. War doesn’t guarantee anything. Us surviving world war two is still miraculous.” Doyoung winced at your truthful words as he returned that embrace. There go his tears that he shed almost every night since he told you about his enlistment.

“I had no choice, (Y/N). My family and I would be in big trouble if I didn’t follow orders.”

“I know. I’m sorry I ran away, Doyoung.” You continued to sob as you feel him stroke your hair from behind. He knew well that it was one way to calm you down.

“If only we didn’t live in harsh times like this.” He sighed, longing for the same thing. He cursed whoever decided to make him exist during a painful time. He would trade anything for a more peaceful life.

“Stay here for the night, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to waste any more time.

Your relatives were aware of your relationship, allowing such a request. They trusted you enough to sleep in the same room, knowing all too well the struggles of being love during times like this.

Neither of you held back from the tension that crept into the room. This time, you led him through the first kiss while his body laid flat on the cushion bed. On top, straddling him fully. Leaving him soft kisses on his neck while teasingly unbuttoning his pajama shirt, your fervent lips trailed from his neck, lowering to his sculpted abdomen, until you reached the waistband of his pajama pants.

Only in books did you learn about how to please men, so this may be the only time you can test it out. Doyoung stiffened on your soft kisses on his hard-clothed member, glancing him seductively back and forth when you stuck out your tongue.

“Please,” He begged, tugging on your hair. “Touch me.”

Your lips wrapped around his tip before gently going lower to your limit, and slowly sucked on it back and forth. Whenever you’d want to catch a breathe, you’d lick the tip teasingly. Doyoung groaned, threading his fingers along with your hair. He’s so used to be a giver that receiving these sensations by you beats his hand. It was heavenly, yet so vulgar. The way you swallowed his cum rather than spitting it out even if the taste wasn’t favorable, you were too much in a daze to process how sudden he switched positions. While you sprawled devilishly under him, your fingers looping on his dog tag necklace to bring him lower for a kiss while feeling two of his fingers go under your panties to teasingly play with your slick.

“Don’t t-tease...” You stuttered, clenching at how fast he can get you stimulated with his fingers.

The whole night long was consumed with his body against yours, the wet sounds of deep thrusts and muffled moans praising each other. The following morning, your naked bodies remained entangled. He was still in deep slumber when your body clock alarms you to wake up. though you couldn’t move when he had his arm around you. The love marks on his chest that you’ve made were more exposed when the sunlight hits him, your fingers carefully trailing on it so he wouldn’t be startled. He needed all the rest he can get.

If only you can have mornings like this when war wasn’t in the equation.

Bidding goodbye was tough. Breakfast was too quiet, just like how he packed his remaining belongings and dressed back to his uniform. You watched him by the patio as he waited for the bus to pick him up. When one finally arrived, he turned around to face you once more. He understood that neither of you wanted to say anything. It would make things harder.

You had to stay strong for him because he was fighting the scarier people. But as he waved goodbye, this was your only exception. Just before he boarded the bus,

“Fuck it.” You mumbled to yourself, running to him as your life depended on it.

“(Y/N), what are you-” Doyoung stopped at his tracks, awaiting your sudden move. You shut him up by desperately placing your lips against his, having that a tiny sliver of hope that it won’t be your last. His hands cradled your face while your arms tangled behind his neck.

It wasn’t until the annoyed coughs from the bus driver stopped your actions. Patting your dress from crinkling, Doyoung left a kiss on your forehead.

“Wait for me, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured you.

“Fight strong and stay alive, Doyoung. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He caressed your cheek one last time, your hand cupping it.

“I love you too, Doyoung.”

Both of you made sure to write to each other, just anything to keep in touch from being apart.

Oh, if only you knew how long you’d have to wait before seeing each other again.

1951

Doyoung was stationed in the infantry division, always staying prepared for the plans his side made and the active attacks started from the enemy side. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s gotten critically injured and knocked out, but he fought through it with his upcoming plans in mind. How he must fight for the country and stay alive to see the change. How he wanted to have a future with you when everything settles down. It was his motivation every time.

But it took one surprise attack many months later from the enemy side to take it all away. When one of the senior officers was shot, he shielded him without hesitation. All these firing bullets were shot on his back, his legs wobbling from the impact. Due to the non-stop bleeding and lack of urgent medical attention, he painfully lost his life while holding on to his officer.

“Please tell my lover that I love her and I’m sorry.”

Those were his last words before he took one final breath and flatlined.

Seconds later, his soul flowed outside his body and froze at the trippy feeling while witnessing different officers and people on the medic team mourn in front of his dead body. Taeyong, one of the people he befriended from the medic team, tried to wake him repeatedly.

“Doyoung, please don’t joke around. Wake up, please.”

Even if he knew it was hopeless, he did his best to the point his entire team had to pull him away from his best friend’s lifeless body.

“No, he needs to live! He has a family, big dreams, and a girl waiting back in Busan!” He sobbed in his chest. Out of all the people he tried to resuscitate, Doyoung was the first friend that he came across on this occasion. Doyoung ached at this vulnerable sight, wanting so badly to be by his side. With these surprise attacks, death is more prevalent than ever.

“Kim Doyoung?” An unfamiliar voice called for him from behind. He spun around to find one woman in war uniform, though he’s never encountered her in the field, and a man in all black.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Manwol, and he’s the grim reaper. I believe you just died a few minutes ago, correct?”

The truth was piercing to accept, glancing at his lifeless body on the side with Taeyong and another close friend he made, Jungwoo, crying his heart out.

“Are you going to take me already?” He asked.

“Unless you still have things you want to accomplish in the living world, then you can freely go to the other side.” The grim reaper answered monotonously, very much used to this question.

“From the looks of it, you have a lot you want to do still,” Manwol observed from afar, all too familiar with the feeling. “If you come with us, I can help you accomplish them.”

If something stayed with Doyoung until his last breath, it was his skepticism with the supernatural. He was unsure if he can trust them because according to the books, once you’re dead, that’s it. It’s up to the people around him to speak good or bad of him.

“You’re uncertain with our intentions, aren’t you?” Manwol easily read through his stoic expression. “You’ll be surprised with how many things can debunk from the books if you let us, Doyoung.”

For the first time, Doyoung had no clue what and where to go next. No one wrote a book on how to act like a cold, wandering soul. His dreams were limited, meaning he has to find new ones or tweak them a lot to make it possible. Despite her reserved nature, he figured that Manwol looked like someone who knows what she’s talking about. With the grim reaper he’s read in children’s books, he wasn’t as frightening as he was portrayed.

This was his last shot.

“Guide me, please.”

The car ride alone there was messy and bumpy since it was peak war season. He wasn’t the only person who lost their life that night and riding in the vehicle. He recognized a few of them. It was saddening to find the playful Donghyuck, his youngest companion, beside him.

“I sacrificed myself to protect two unarmed nurses in the medic tent when some enemy soldiers charged inside.”

Another was the wise Taeil, who was stationed by the barracks. He was one of the people in the front of in line for battle.

“I thought they were fooling with us, and then suddenly fired multiple attacks. I caught on to it quickly, but they still got me.”

Doyoung remembered all those times he used to ask for love advice from him when it grew hard to be far from you. But that advice is no longer useful when he’s further away from you. He was dead, you weren’t.

Once the three of them arrived at their destination, it was an inn that looked destroyed from the outside, but very organized on the inside. Donghyuck and Taeil decided already what they wanted to do before they cross the other side. Doyoung, on the other hand, was still contemplating.

Manwol knew well how to spot a heartbroken person, being one herself. She wasn’t one to interfere with these affairs, but maybe she’d make an exception. Seeing right through him, he lived a fruitful life. She saw his sacrifice, picking up on his last words being dedicated for you, his lover. He didn’t die in vain.

When the two men were off to follow their plans, Manwol took this chance to approach the downcast man again.

“Is something you holding you back from going…” She questioned, staying by his side for a moment. “…or a special someone?”

“I promised my lover to fight strong and to stay alive while she promised to keep waiting for me. But here I am. She has yet to know that I didn’t make it and I can’t bear to see her in utter pain.”

“Death during a war isn’t new, Doyoung. A lot of promises become broken.”

“But I had so much I wanted to do with her after, Manwol. I can’t just leave her yet, I want to stay by her side even if we can’t see each other physically.”

Based on the information Manwol received about Doyoung from the inn staff, it came to her attention that he was fond of books. Thus, it gave her an idea.

“Doyoung, you’re very similar to the staff here. They all have goals that take years to accomplish, so I gave them a job here.”

“What are you offering me then, Manwol?”

“I have a library here in dire need of a librarian. With your interest in books, would you like to take it? After all, I’m implying that you’d want to wait for your lover to make up for your broken promise.”

Doyoung can’t deny that she was wrong. This was where his journey at Manwol Inn (then became Hotel Del Luna) started. Time worked a little bit differently as a ghost, but it’ll be worth it until you return in his arms one day.

On the day you regrettably received the letter from the military about the tragedy, life has turned for the worst. Upon seeing a soldier by your front step, it was only an innocent habit to give him letters for Doyoung and receiving new ones. However, his hand halted you to hand over a military logo imprinted envelope addressed to you alongside his tidy military uniform other letters from Doyoung.

His last letters.

You had no courage to even complete reading it when the first few lines weren’t enough to taunt you. Nothing could prepare for this dreaded moment.

“We regret to inform you that a report from the war office has confirmed that Kim Doyoung was a casualty of the sudden attack of Seoul. this letter formally declares that he was killed in action....”

Dropping the god-forsaken letter in your hands, you instantly locked yourself in your room. Your parents, who picked it up to read, came running to your door and tediously knocking for you to open it. But you didn’t listen, the heartbreak being too grave.

You tried so hard to keep it together these past months. but this kind of grief resulted in your feeble figure pouring into a heap of salty tears and loud sobs. Your back against the wall smoothly slid down until your butt landed on the floor. You clutched on to your gut that continuously stabbed you back and forth.

Betrayal was an understatement, yet it was beyond his control. War guarantees nothing.

But not when you needed him more than ever, especially when the biggest yet most unexpected news came upon you. All nausea and wild mood swings in the weeks that followed after he left weren’t normal, only to find out that you were expecting his child.

It was a secret you didn’t know how to confront through letters because it was best to tell him in person. Due to the situation, it was impossible. Only in your latest letter did you finally come clean about it, but it was now never to be sent because he has already passed away. Your entire family wasn’t pleased with this outcome but they didn’t shame you for it either. It was your choice and body after all.

They were concerned about how others will perceive you in the long run. An unmarried woman carrying a dead man’s child is taboo in this conservative society. Yet abortion is seen in a bad light too. You were stuck in a double edge sword, but you knew from the beginning that you wanted to keep the child. It’s a struggle, for sure, and your plans will have to wait.

Amid this bad luck, this unborn child is the last closest piece of Doyoung.

Amongst your unavoidable flow of tears that you knew must be stopped so it wouldn’t badly affect your child, you placed a hand on top of your lower belly. There was already an evident swelling bump, but your choice to continue wearing loose clothing to swerve from the public’s judgment covered it fine.

Well, for now. Only in the last trimester, it was going to be a challenge.

“I’m sorry you won’t be meet your father....” You spoke, rubbing it upwards. “....But I’ll make sure to take good care of you. You’re all I have left of him.”

Ever since Doyoung accepted Manwol’s offer, he never left his spot at the library. He was amazed at the endless arrangements of books. Even the western books his parents banned him from reading as a child were there. All this entertainment can distract from the long time he has to wait.

Except for today specifically, he asked Jeno, a new friend he made who also lost his life during the Korean war, to take over for a few hours when he found out that mail was to be delivered in Busan.

“Hyung, are you sure?”

“I just need to see her, Jeno.”

Doyoung expected the heartache when he saw you cry in your bedroom after finding out, and he couldn’t refrain from crying with you. Even as a soul, he’d do anything to cradle you in his arms and say that things will get better in time. How he wanted to tell you to take your time in life and that he’s willing to wait until your time comes. Whenever it could be.

Sadly, he was right there listening to you talk to your unborn child. The disbelief of in his reaction; he was supposed to be a father. Sure, he was relatively young. People won’t approve of it because you were unmarried. But it was an early start to settling down with each other.

It took him a while to accept his unfortunate fate, but for him to be robbed of this meaningful part in life was more unbearable to deal with.

From that point, he made sure to watch over you even if he was invisible. Even if Manwol advised him not to so it won’t complicate anything, he reassured that he has it under control. As a ghost without any grudges, what’s there to throw a fit at? He could retaliate at the enemy soldiers who shot him fearlessly, but they are nowhere to be found and he had no interest to turn into ashes.

The only time he assisted you was when you were giving birth. It was an excruciating process, sweating and breathing intensely. You let a scream every time you pushed, like any of the herbs or medications you consumed were wearing off. Your body wanted to give up as it weakened at the loss of blood.

Childbirth is no joke, having high mortality rates during these times. It was a tempting choice you’d want to take as Doyoung is no longer alive. But you knew it was selfish to leave your child as an orphan.

Doyoung couldn’t withstand watching you struggle anymore. If there was a trick Manwol taught him, it was to possess people. It’s often portrayed as a negative skill, warning him to only use it when it’s an emergency.

The pitiful way your eyes were drained off energy, he had to step in. Observing the midwife panicking on your side even if she was giving you support, he took his chance to possess her. Adjusting to this body, it made him glad to feel your warm hand again.

“(Y/N), your child is almost here.” The doctor positively announced.

“I want a breather. The grim reaper should just take me.” You complained as your mother wiped the endless drops of sweat on your forehead. Doyoung took it to heart, knowing death firsthand was no joke.

“Yah, don’t say stuff like that, (Y/N). This child is bound to be an amazing addition to your life.”

You didn’t know how your timid midwife would straighten you up, but it motivated you a lot more to finish the process. Little did you know.

She gladly accepted your firm grips on her hand, giving affirmative responses to keep you going. In moments you closed your eyes to push, you couldn’t help notice in the corner of your eye how from the physique of your midwife, you swore you saw him. His hand holding yours instead of the midwife.

Was this in the medication? For a moment, you let a tear not from pain but from happiness to catch a glimpse of him in your weakest moment. Every day, you were missing him.

It took almost half an hour before a small set of wails bore in the room while you harshly threw yourself back in the bed to recover your breathing patterns. It knocked you out for a while. Doyoung, still possessing the midwife, was handed the newborn by the doctor and tasked to clean her up.

“It’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor confirmed as he wiped away the blood on the floor.

He was then brought by your mother to a designated room to bathe the relaxed newborn in his arms.

His newborn.

His desire to phase out of the midwife and use his skill to be visible while holding his child was strong. But it’s too risky since the midwife can catch him. He sucked it up and proceeded in what the books taught him on bathing a baby. During his break time, he’d read all the parenting books he could find. It’ll be rare anyways for him to use the tips, but he always wanted to stay prepared.

As the bubbles of the soap surrounded the relaxed baby, he washed her delicately to avoid her from waking up. He was just mesmerized at how you and he created something so precious. He used to be the type of man to be awkward around kids, but after catering to many children in the library and now his child, it started to change.

“Hello there, little one. Your mother needs you, so you better be good to her.”

Ghosts were highly discouraged to make any more emotional connections with the living because they’ll just end up being hurt, making it harder to move on. Exactly what Doyoung is doing was that, and the more he bonded with his daughter, it was a rekindled kind of pain. The kind when you separate family from each other. The same one he felt when he bid his parents good-bye before joining the war, only to never come back.

To top this off, the tiny hand of his sleeping daughter, whom he finally dried off with a small towel and wrapped in a fresh blanket, sleepily grasped on his pinky finger. Technically, it was the midwife’s, but he was in control.

Nonetheless, the innocent gesture got him both feeling on top of the moon and disheartened at the same time. As he curled it in a silly manner, noticing the size difference, he leaned down to leave a kiss on top of her forehead.

“I’m sorry I’m going to miss out on your life. But I’ll always be here for you, even if I’m in the shadows. Don’t ever question my love for you. Because I do love you, wholeheartedly.”

Kim Areum.

That was the name you settled with when your daughter was finally in your arms. It’s ideal to give Doyoung’s last name too because she is half of him. After resting for quite a while, you noticed how the midwife suddenly shook her body and took a loud deep breath when she helped out cleaning the area up.

“Are you okay?” You question, noticing her state of confusion.

“Uhm, yeah....” She narrowed her eyes to her environment. “Oh wait, you gave birth already? Wow, that was pretty fast...”

“Yes, you were right beside me the whole time...” You glanced sideways at her, suspicious.

“Oh wow yeah, I was.” She tried to laugh it off. “It was like I had an out-of-this-world moment or something. Oh whatever, I sound stupid.”

That brought you back to your early doubts. Whether or not he showed up or you were somewhat hallucinating. But not wanting to reflect too much on the impossible, you merely refocused to the peaceful newborn nestled in your arms.

She’s the only one keeping you alive in these hard times. She served as a reminder of him, thus you’ll hold on to her. From the outside of your window, all Doyoung can do now is to continue watching from afar every once in a while.

1954

Not much has changed in the past few years. You were either reading or taking care of Areum. Your family was lucky enough to have good housing, but getting important necessities such as water and food was a constant struggle.

With the war leading to lots of souls in the inn, he had to fulfill his mandatory orders to prepare souls to move on. He was joyful to be of service to others like he was back in the day.

Though lately, it’s still unavoidable for him to ponder how exactly are you and his daughter are doing. Once Donghyuck and Taeil went ahead for the afterlife, the loneliness began to creep in. Then a while ago, Jeno introduced him to a new group of children today checking out the library. Caught in a deadly car accident on their way home from school, he pitied how such bright kids left the world too soon.

These factors sparked his longing, plus there was still something above that: it was your birthday soon. Much to his luck, Manwol just received a new gift from the deities that might be his biggest help in coping.

“A dream call?” Doyoung inquired once he was summoned by Manwol to the meeting room, sitting across her.

“Yes, a call to anyone from the living that you wish to talk to in their dreams. Though this can only be used once per visitor. The deities pitied those with loved ones who want to see them physically. Thus, they invented this.”

“What are you implying?”

“Doyoung, you know well how easy I can read people even through their fake smiles. You miss her very much.” Manwol replied, holding up the phone to his ear. “This is your chance, Doyoung. Even if you can’t see them, they will see you.”

The first dream started with you sitting at your old spot by the river, in a simple dress Doyoung bought for you on your last ever birthday celebration with him. The forest looked breathtaking as if it was still pre-war times again. The river was still clear of blood and pollution. It must be spring, the flowers above you on the tree were in full bloom.

The sound of bike wheels stopping to park in the grass and someone humming changed your point of interest. There was the only person in your mind who would do that. Jumping from your seated position, you looked behind the other side of the tree only to find him picking up flowers from the branches. He was tall, not having much difficulty getting them.

The way he looked so peaceful and well-rested. This beauty and peace of mind he radiated, it was unreal.

“Doyoung.”

He clenched on the phone with his hand, his concealed yearning to at least hear his name on your lips again urged a tear to go down his cheek.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

He handed you the flower bouquet he made for you. Meanwhile, he suddenly dropped it when you didn’t hesitate to sling your arms around his waist. Your head pressed to his chest, pulling him closer you could care less if you lost your breath. Doyoung felt that tight hug, gripping on the part of his uniform where you placed your head. He rubbed it as if it was your hair.

None of you spoke a word and gracefully paused to take a moment.

Time in a dream call works a bit differently than in the living world. Once you’re in session, one minute alone of talking is equivalent to 30 minutes in the living world.

Doyoung took his first call to catch up with you and say everything he never got to before. It was also where he confessed how he knew about your daughter. There were guilt and regret at how you could’ve told him in your earlier letters.

“You were scared, (Y/N). There’s no way I can blame you.” Laying against his chest, he comforted you. “By the way, she has your nose, you know.”

There was this wave of relief that splashed you after this big burden lifted. You can live a more untroubled life now.

“She has your temper though.” You jokingly say, putting you in a fit of giggles. It’s been too long since you experienced genuine humor.

“At age 3? Yah, I’m impressed.” He remarked with pride.

Since Doyoung wasn’t capable to be physically affectionate in the dreams, he was more on receiving them from you. In return, he gave sincere conversations even if they were a yearly thing. Talking about your daughter was one of your favorite topics. adolescence, teenage years, to university, there was so much to talk about. Doyoung would only use his dream calls on you on your birthday, making them more meaningful. Each one, you were both back to your twenties with different outfits and settings based on the differing decades.

“Don’t you feel burdened to wait for me?” You asked as his fingers brushed some of your hair back while you watched the sunset from a wooden bench.

“No, I’m not. there are still many things I want to fulfill before moving on. I also want to watch Areum grow up and help you in any possible. Only when these goals of mine and others are cleared, then I‘ll be able to rest well.”

“Will you be okay until then, Doyoung?”

“I broke a promise with you, (Y/N). and I want to make up for it.”

“What will you do when my time comes?” Your hand interlocked with his, squeezing it tight even if he couldn’t reciprocate it.

“I will shout out your name and hug you tight, my love. But until then, appreciate your life. Live it to its fullest. For me.”

Doyoung sensed your worry but comforted you that it’ll be okay. He wasn’t lying either when he said he wanted to do a lot of things too. Every dream call, his gut feelings were strong to know what you were going through in every call, giving you any advice to get you through them.

To count, he gave you almost 50 dream calls.

The late 1950s-1960s

After returning to university to finish your undergraduate studies when the war ended, you continued to pursue law school and taking the exams as you’ve wanted. But this meant moving to Seoul for better opportunities.

Doyoung celebrated with himself when he found out, not having to take the bus or ride the hotel car to Busan every time he wanted to see you two. Now, he could simply walk back and forth, managing it with his shifts.

Currently, he was taking a break in his office. The deities gifted him with a bunch of murder mystery books from the West, fully immersed in the storylines. Leaning backward from his chair, he was abruptly disconnected by a knock on his open door.

“Hyung, you have a special visitor in the lobby.” Jeno urgently informed Doyoung as he leaned on the side of his office door, out of breath. “It’s quite important if you ask me.”

Doyoung removed his reading glasses and put down his novel. Putting back his blazer on, he approached his younger friend and made their way down the hallway together hastily.

“Is it a family member who’s passed?” He questioned, slightly folding his blazer sleeves then adjusting the hotel pin on his chest pocket. By the tone Jeno spoke, it must’ve been serious. Although there’s no way it can be you just yet, he has no idea who was looking for him then.

The lobby was bustling with numerous souls. Some still fresh, some just roaming around, while others were preparing to pass the other side. Nothing new to it, until Jeno pointed out a specific scene in one corner of the room.

“Hyung, over there.”

Like an obedient puppy, Doyoung looked over to where Jeno’s finger directed. At first glance, by her long black hair, he recognized Manwol, who was kneeling in front of someone seated. It wasn’t until she stood up and shifted her body to the side to reveal that someone, patting her young head kindly.

She wore a ribbon on her hair, matching with the colors of her floral dress while carefully holding on to a piece of paper with her drawing. Due to the distance, he couldn’t make out what she drew. Though with her dazzling eye smile formed by her small eyes, he knew her too well.

“Areum.”

Right on cue, the young girl caught his entrancing gaze. With the widest smile, she exclaimed “Daddy!”

Manwol, who was right beside her, held her hand and graced their way to Doyoung and Jeno. The two knew she despised children, ordering them to keep a keener eye on them when they wander around so they don’t access the hallway leading to her office. Unexpectedly, Areum didn’t burden her the slightest. She brought a different aura, a very pure and full of love kind.

With the full moon shining at its peak, becoming present to the eyes of the living, she must’ve spotted the hotel from afar and her interest grew wild for it. Typical for girls her age. Not afraid of the risks, she followed any directions to get here. Coincidentally, she encountered Manwol in the front gate.

Manwol recognized her straight away, even when she glimpsed the drawing of her family she treasured in her chest. She still included her father, whom she was very much acquainted with. Though, she was puzzled by her sudden appearance. When Areum explained that her father lived in the hotel according to your stories, her heart fell to her gut. Indeed, she was right, but again, ghosts are discouraged to have connections with the living or anything related to it. However, her strong senses couldn’t disregard how much Doyoung yearned for his family. Lately, his only daughter when numerous children arrived at the hotel. He didn’t want to voice it out however because the other staff shared the same sentiments, so it would be insensitive so he just kept it to himself. But Manwol sensed it all too well.

She won’t tell anyone this, but she has quite a soft spot for Doyoung. She empathized with him the most since he came to the hotel, willing to do what it takes to make his coping and waiting worthwhile. She was still brash at times, but only when necessary.

Areum’s presence didn’t seem to harm anyone, charming anyone around with a smile and her words. Especially that smile, it shows enough of how much she’s Doyoung’s daughter. With a rough internal debate, Manwol welcomed her inside the magical hotel Areum described it as and tasked Jeno to call for Doyoung. It was a risk, but a needed one.

With Manwol innocently holding the young girl’s hand, she looked her down and asked her, “Is that your father from your drawing, Areum?”

Areum lit up as she tilted her head upwards to see her tall father, nodding proudly. “Yes, that’s him! The one my mom talks about in her dreams too!”

Doyoung’s heart swelled at her pride for him, not hesitating to kneel to her height. Arms wide open, he loudly called her out for the first time. “Areum!”

The young girl, letting go of Manwol’s hand, ran as fast as her short legs could like nothing can stop her, even if the lobby was packed. Soon enough, she’s at the grasp of her father, carrying and hugging her in circles. Light as a feather, he took in her scent and warmth. The racing beat of her heart pulsated against his chest, reminding how much life she’s filled with. It was liberating that she found him, even when he stood behind the dark shadows.

Once he put her back down, “What brings you here, Areum? Isn’t it past your bedtime already?”

She pouted, sulking at disobeying your rules. “I know, but as soon as I was ready for bed, I saw the hotel in bright lights just like mommy described. She said that only during the peak full moon it’ll be shown to very special people who are alive, and it turns out that I’m one of them, daddy.”

Hearing that title from her lips was something he would’ve never get sick of. He felt the validity more than ever.

The odds of being a human spotting the hotel during peak full moon was rare, earning perplexed looks by those who don’t see it. Doyoung never encountered a human waltzing in the hotel out of the bloom, so for his daughter to have this mystical ability was a gift in disguise. Maybe the deities knew how to cut off some slack and agony for wandering souls. This was an excuse to stop cursing them now and then.

“Wow, aren’t you a lucky girl for that?” Jeno, whom he forgot was by his side, patted her head similarly to Manwol. “Your father missed you dearly, you know?”

“Well, Mr. Jeno,” She picked up his name from his nametag. “I missed him too.”

Doyoung processed the features of the angelic girl in front of him, astonished at how you and he created someone so cheerful during a time of trouble. Aside from her eye smile, she had his gummy smile and curiosity, while she inherited your nose and intelligence. Cupping her chubby cheek, he pinched it with a cute sound effect from his mouth.

“Daddy!” She protested, slapping his hand away and dramatically covered her reddening cheek. “Not allowed to that, ever.”

Oh, you weren’t joking when you said she had his temper too.

Before he could defend himself, Manwol reentered their interaction. Like common sense, Doyoung got back on his feet but helplessly giving side glances to his daughter. Manwol giggled at his sudden formality before instructing Jeno to lead Areum to the carnival room. As Areum waves him goodbye for the meantime, Manwol added on.

“There’s a rise of kids checking in the hotel, unfortunately, so I wholeheartedly requested the deities to create an area dedicated for child-like fun. Just today, it’s finished in construction so it’s a great place for Areum to explore.”

“Manwol, I-” He was feeling overwhelmed, stumbling his words. “Why did you this for me?”

“You used your dream calls for (Y/N), but there’s never been a way for you to reach out to your daughter. And the way her glimmering eyes wanted to come in when she shouldn’t, I couldn’t refuse a chance for the two to reunite.”

“But what about the deities?”

“I’ll handle it. What matters is that you have tonight to spend with Areum. It’s the least thing I could do as you are one of my beloved staff,” She reassured, yet looked at him in a downcast manner. “But as much as possible, everything tonight must feel like a vivid dream to her. She’s not allowed to keep any knick-knacks from tonight either.”

Everything always came at a price. Doyoung was acquainted well enough, but he can’t lie to say that I didn’t ache. Nonetheless, Manwol having such a selfless side was completely new to him. That’s why he never asked for favors like the other staff since he’ll just get turned down or scolded like a child. Maybe she wasn’t as scary as to how they labeled her all these years he’s worked for her.

Manwol took Doyoung’s silence under the impression of internal conflict. In true Manwol fashion, she clapped her hands right in front of his visage, snatching him back to reality. “You’re wasting time, Doyoung! Don’t think about it too much right now. Now come on and dress up more casually, your daughter is waiting for you.”

Following her order, he bowed respectfully before zooming to his hotel room. She was right, he has to enjoy whatever is given. Demanding for more when you’re already dead is disrespectful to the eyes of the deities, considering that alongside your past life when you step into the afterlife.

From his uniform, he changed into a white long sleeve buttoned-up, which was layered under a lilac knit sweater, and black trousers. He styled his hair in a dandier way, applying gel then combing it upwards. He was only following the trends of the decade, basing it on the recently checked-in souls. Deities must’ve liked him a lot to give him a lot of gifts from time to time, making him completely disregard the money from the living world Manwol gives during his off days. Most of the time, his off days are spent either secretly observing you and your daughter, or reading more books in the library.

This one was like a change of scenery, his heart pumping once he exited to the elevator and rushed to the carnival room. And just as he entered the doors, the wave of nostalgia hit him instantaneously. It felt like he was in university again, bringing you around the bizarre contraptions and games for the first time for your amusement. A spark in your romance, so full of young love and naivety of what was to come.

He spotted his young girl wrapped around in the arms of Jeno, explaining to her about the wide range of rides as she licked on a rainbow lollipop. Once he showed up to the both of them, Jeno cautiously put her down so she can hold Doyoung’s hand.

“You deserve this, hyung. Make it worthwhile.” Jeno placed his hand on his older friend’s shoulder before leaving the room. Keeping it in mind, Doyoung kneeled again in front of his daughter. Her smiles were contagious, fascinated by everything she’s surrounded in.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, daddy.” That line sounded familiar, chuckling at the precious memory.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have fun tonight!”

The bliss in tonight was never-ending, like the two of them were in their own world. Areum wanted to ride on a horse in a carousel first, which Doyoung agreed to. Lifting her, he held her by the waist as the ride started to go. She pointed out every object that she can see while Doyoung avidly listened, then telling her what each ride and game consists of in return.

Once they got off, her short legs scurried off to the game booth where rows of bottles were laid in front of her. Right beside her were the rings. Doyoung properly described the instructions, and on the dot, Areum went ham and started throwing the rings in random directions. By the way, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed, her competitive side was evident. Doyoung observed as she either hit or miss, finding another trait of his in her.

You’d find it hard to believe, but she would’ve been a total daddy’s girl.

To her success, she squealed victoriously as she won and hugged her dad. One of the staff in charge rewarded her with new candy to munch on, and off she went to look for the next attraction to divulge in. Doyoung struggled a little catching up to her, but anything he would do for his daughter.

From a one on one balloon dart game, which Doyoung willingly let Areum won because she’s a fussy one, roaming through a mini house of mirrors, riding the indoor Ferris wheel, and many more, Areum was ready to move to the next venue after telling her father that she wanted him to read to her.

“Mommy said you’re a librarian here because you like reading. I like it too, can you take me there?”

Just like you, he was charmed by his daughter. “Alright, Areum. Let’s go there then.”

Before they made it through past the wide doors with the bright red sign above saying “Exit”, Areum’s attention was distracted by a black kiosk near the Ferris wheel. She followed her gut, changing her direction. Doyoung quickly followed her footsteps, only to turn up in front of a photo booth.

“Wow, are these where you can take instant pictures, daddy?”

Waves of nostalgia hit Doyoung as if he were on the beach, totally unprepared for the emotional impact. With Areum, he missed your presence more than ever. Having you there completed your family, and it could’ve been quite a reunion.

“Yes, Areum. How about you go inside and daddy will insert some coins so you can have your pictures taken?”

“But daddy, I want to take pictures with you! It’s only mommy that has pictures with you, and I don’t want to feel left out.” She threw a tantrum, crossing her arms.

Here she goes again, making it difficult for Doyoung to refuse. Even with Manwol only giving him one rule to follow for the night, he doesn’t want any bad memories to be made with his daughter. He’ll have to work it out one way or another later. In the meantime, he smirked before carried her out of the blue inside the booth. Her shrieks increased in volume, only softening after she settled on her father’s lap. Doyoung inserts a few coins, and swiftly enough, the contraption started to operate.

“Okay Areum, one photo strip has 4 solo photos in it. 4 smiles or poses, okay? You’re going to look at the lens there, in the shape of a circle. Then, the flash is going to show in 3, 2-” Right on time, the two smiled.

They had less than 10 seconds until the second shot, so the two pulled random funny expressions. Doyoung pouted his lips, while Areum stuck out her tongue. For the third photo, Doyoung kissed the top of her head while Areum poked her cheeks with her fingers. Lastly, Areum instructed her father to lower his head to her level so she can peck his cheek. His shock was perfectly taken, filling his heart with adoration.

Areum hating getting affection but loves giving it? Another trait of his.

The look of amazement Areum gave once she stepped foot on the endless library was priceless. She described how it was bigger than the national library in Seoul. While she strolled around the near shelves, Jeno, taking over his night shift, approached him with a bottled treat. But it wasn’t just a normal one.

“Manwol and I overheard that she liked strawberry milk, so Manwol told me to give it to you. It has the dream spell potion from Johnny’s bar mixed with flowers from the deities so she can’t see ghosts or the hotel anymore. Make sure she drinks it before she leaves this place.”

While Areum settles on the small couch with her chosen books, she patiently anticipated for her father to read to her before her yawning takes over her. She never tracked the time, but she’s gone way beyond her average curfew.

“Sleepy already, sweetheart?” Doyoung asked as he sat beside her, inspecting her drowsy state.

Areum shook her head, displaying all the books she got on the table in front of her. “Nope! Not until you read me a bedtime story.”

Doyoung scanned through her book selection, amazed by her choices. The Little Prince, Winnie the Pooh, Goodnight Moon, and a bunch of Madeline books from the series, he couldn’t decide! If only he could read them all for her.

A lot of those books he read growing up, and the same goes for you. Especially Madeline, which he discovered through you as one of your childhood favorites. By instinct, he chose the first book from the series, simply entitled “Madeline”.

“This one.” He patted his lap so she could sit on it, which she did without wasting a breath.

It was ironic for a librarian to have never read aloud for anyone during his stay. Maybe because no one asked him to nor he wasn’t into reading aloud. He preferred reading to himself, only helping those looking for specific books or recommending if anyone has a favorite genre. Maybe he’ll give it a shot now. This first-hand experience opened his eyes to a new type of intimacy, hearing the adorable reactions from his daughter as he read the life of Madeline in Paris.

“In the middle of one night, Miss Clavel turned on her light and said, “Something is not right!”.” Doyoung flipped the next page. “Little Madeline sat in bed, cried and cried-”

“She cried to get attention, huh?” Areum commented mid-reading.

“Areum, if she didn’t, she could get even sicker. We don’t want that, right?”

“If I cried like that, would that be enough to bring you back to me and mommy, daddy?” She wholesomely questioned, twisting her body weight so she could face him. “Mommy already has a way to reach to you, and I want something like that too”

Doyoung knew she was a smart girl, but she often denies the reality of some things. In this case, her father’s passing still hasn’t hit her, even if she possessed the mystical skill to see ghosts and the hotel. Doyoung felt cornered, so before he could think of a reply, he kindly asks her,

“Hmm, what do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Well,” She pouted as she fidgeted with her index fingers. “I read all your old letters to mommy, so maybe I can write you one every year.”

“What a great idea, sweetheart!” He cheered. “How will you give it?”

“Uh..” She paused to think, then a bright idea came to her. “During your birthday, daddy! Mommy and I still celebrate it if you don’t know, so I can offer it alongside the food.”

Doyoung played along, knowing that tradition of yours. Although it still aches him to show up on his death anniversary, he compromised by showing up on his birthday. He’d see his and your families celebrating, talking about the positive and fun things about him in his life. He observed his daughter a little more later when she got older and started talking. Whenever you praised him for something, there was hope and inspiration in her young eyes. It’s uplifting to discover that his legacy was seen in a good light. He’d never wanted to be seen as a bad guy to anyone.

“I’ll look forward to it, sweetheart. Promise?” He stuck out his pinky to her, getting curled in response by hers.

“Promise!”

Both of them chuckled, appreciating the moment. His long arms embraced her from the back, nuzzling his head on his shoulder. How blessed to have a daughter like her, but from a glance, the bottle of strawberry milk situated beside the pile of books gave a remembrance of one of his remaining tasks. It had to be done, but he hoped she won’t at least forget to write to him.

“Look! Miss Manwol wanted to give this to you.” He handed it to her.

Ecstatic, she cranked open the bottle cap and took tiny sips of it. “It’s so good, daddy!”

Doyoung softly laughed as excess milk drops dribbled in her lips, wiping it with his thumb. “Aigoo, you messy girl. Let’s continue, shall we?”

Cozying up to him again, Doyoung resumed his storytelling. Once he said the words, “The end.”, the small head of his daughter completely leaned against his chest. Snuggling for more comfort, he checked her current condition. Knocked out like a light, he puts the book down and cradled her for a second. The last time he did something like this was when she was born. She was tiny then, and now, she’s bound to outgrow his lap sooner or later.

This was his sign to bring her home.

He boosted her small figure, her head now planted on his shoulder and his hand resting behind the nape of her neck. Her legs were entangled in his torso when he showed up at the lobby again. It was much more serene, everyone checked in already.

“Aigoo, fast asleep already?” Manwol made an appearance without warning, alongside her personal driver Yuta and the bartender Johnny.

“As expected from my magic.” Johnny commended himself, stretching his fingers. That easily gave him a slap from Yuta.

“Can’t you be more sensitive to Doyoung?”

Not caring about those two, Manwol caressed Areum from behind. Inside her cold heart, she brought so much amusement. Even if she embodied traits from Doyoung, she stood out from his usual reserved nature. She had so much energy, and it’s a fresh sight. Manwol secretly peered at their father-daughter time in the library, and she sensed the love the two had for each other. Even if it’s unbearable to separate them, having tonight was a pleasure for all.

“Yuta,” She summoned him. “Drop these two to her house safe and sound. It’s too dangerous to walk in the dark right now.”

Bowing in response, he led the way to the elevator for Doyoung to follow. But before he took the first step, Manwol halted him by the arm. “You better come back, or the deities won’t be pleased.”

He nodded before he was sent on his way. Wasn’t this brutal?

The silence in the car ride is deafening, though he didn’t want to disturb his little girl either. Yuta peeked from the mirror now and then to check on the two, sharing the gloom of his fellow friend. Having something or someone so valuable from the living world makes it hard to leave it. He understood as he suffered a similar fate to him.

When they’ve arrived at their destination, Doyoung was quick to notice that the lights from your living room were still on. It’s too risky to waltz in through the front door, squinting for other ways to go inside. To his luck, the window of Areum’s bedroom was wide open. That must’ve been how she escaped earlier.

“Be careful, Doyoung. Her neighbors may be watching.”

“It’s around 4 am right now, Yuta. I’ll be fine.” He reassured, clicking open the car door with his daughter peacefully asleep.

Entering inside her bedroom, he gently put her down on her soft bed. Covering her body with the duvet so she wouldn’t get cold, he took one last lingering look before taking his leave. Manwol might be looking for him already. Pressuring even to know that Yuta was waiting outside for him and that the deities are looking down on him too.

“Daddy,” Her tiny hand tugged on his sleeve, stopping his movements. Her droopy eyes faintly ajar, wanting to capture these last dreamy moments. “Don’t leave me and mommy again.”

This retouched attachment between the two made things much more stifling to accept reality. Doyoung understood her fright and sighed, kneeling to her again. Patting her head, “I’m sorry but I have no choice, sweetheart. We don’t want daddy to get in trouble, right?”

She lazily nods, tugging on his sleeve again. “Can you sing me to sleep, daddy? You used to do that for mommy.”

He grinned, accepted her last request. Holding on her hand, kissing it, he quietly sings.

“Eonjebuteoinji geudaereul bomyeon….”

When the song reached its end, the soft snores from Areum filled his eardrums. Her eyes are fully closed, and her tiny head fell to the side of her pillow. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart. Daddy loves you so much.”

A cute sight to Doyoung, she occupied a huge part in his heart. Even if everything tonight will feel like a complete dream, it’s a memorable moment for Doyoung that he’ll treasure.

Initially, he planned to leave her bedroom the same way he came in, which was through her window. That’s all Manwol tasked him to do when he arrives at your house, but his heart selfishly desires to see you. Even if he was invisible now. His powers were weakening, twitching from being visible to invisible back and forth.

Never has he stepped inside your new house, and this could be his only chance.

The first thing he saw after leaving his daughter’s bedroom was the dining room. Tidy and organized, as expected from you. For the living room connected to it, the simple decorations invited him inside. Assorted photos hung in the wall and by the table near the front door, with a fresh bouquet of asters in a vase there too.

Alluring as it is, the only thing Doyoung couldn’t keep his eyes off the most was a sleeping you in pajamas, hunched over the coffee table on top of books and numerous paperwork. An empty coffee glass neared the edge, so he caught it before you squirmed again from your sleep.

The exhaustion from your life was constantly piled up one after the other. You’ve been studying hard at law school, balancing it with a part-time job as a teacher’s assistant at your university for undergrads and being a mom to Areum. Even seeing the pile of bills right by your side, you didn’t just need the help of your families. You needed him, as a friend, lover, and father.

Men were still viewed as the main breadwinners of the family, but you juggled both positions as mother and father. It was a vicious fate, and he’d do anything to share that challenge with you. For now, the only thing he could do is bring you to bed at least.

Taking you into his arms bridal style, completely knocked out, he only assumed the remaining door in front of Areum’s bedroom was your bedroom. Carefully kicking it, he graced your bed and laid you down elegantly so your sleeping flow won’t be disturbed. He put the covers on top of your body so you’d feel comfier.

Right in front of your bedside was a breezy open window, the moonlight creeping in to highlight your sleeping face. The wrinkles on your forehead started to show, a side effect of immense stress. It’s a trait no one wants, yet it symbolized aging and moving forward to the future. Doyoung envied you for it.

Besides that, you looked youthful as ever, seeking internal peace from the outside world in your deep slumber. His index traced the outline of your face, appreciating your glow. Trapped in amazement, leaving you will be more difficult. It’s been a while since he saw you up close in the flesh, but Manwol’s words daunted his mind. Just like his daughter, his lips softly pecked your forehead and to your ear, he said in a hushed tone, “Good night, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

Getting back on his knees to exit, he’s convinced that you and your daughter can detect a leaving presence and catch it before they do. On cue, your hand unconsciously grabbed his wrist. Your mind couldn’t make up what mental state you were in, but something in you vibed a known presence. One that you’ve yearned, one that you struggle to wait and see until your birthday arrives. Is he actually here?

Doyoung reacted immediately, his feet shuffling to face you again. Eyes still shut close, but your lips released a satisfied moan as you stretched your arms slightly.

“Is it my birthday already?” You mumbled incoherently, gripping on the unknown wrist. “Or am I just lucky enough to get a free pass?”

He rolled his eyes at your nonsense. “If this was a free pass, what would you want me to do?”

You weakly took a peek. It was blurry, probably caused by your sleepiness. But you recognized the silhouette of this stranger from the back of your hand. You clutched his grip, bringing his face closer to yours. Doyoung didn’t expect such a jerking action, almost falling limp if his other free hand didn’t grip on your duvet.

“Kiss me before you go again, my love.” You requested, mindlessly craving his touch.

Loosening from your grip, his palm cupped your cheek as he wets his lips. He made the first move, sweetly and slowly. Even at your unknown state, you returned with the same level of passion, brushing the hair behind the nape of his neck to deepen it. You haven’t kissed anyone like this in a very long time, too busy with your studies and motherhood. This refreshed your memories of what you missed, a warm tear escaping your eye.

No one will ever match up to him.

Doyoung’s deprivation of physical touch for you amplified, eagerness for so much more than this. Touching himself to the thought of you grew tiring, wanting to have you in the flesh by his side. It wasn’t until a bright car light from outside shun by your window. Yuta was an impatient one, but he had every right to be.

It was fulfilling while it lasted. His heart throbbed when his lips parted from yours, opening his eyes again. Your eyes stayed closed, but your lips hummed in satisfaction.

“Nothing changed in the way you kiss, my love.” You complimented, succumbing back to your deep slumber by pulling yourself further inside the duvet.

Doyoung grinned at your words, kissing your knuckle one last time. “I meant what I said, (Y/N). Sleep well.”

He tiptoed out your bedroom, deciding to exit through the front door. Again, no one would be awake at this time anyway. However, an antique-looking photo of him caught his eye. Taking a closer look, it was you and him by his garden, clutching on his arm under their family lemon tree and smiling during pre-war times. It was a funny story actually.

His father bought a camera for the first time and wanted to test it out. You were over at their house that day to study, and his father insisted to take a photo of the two of you as a first try.

“Oh come on, we must commemorate this new contraption! The first people can be titled “Young Love” or something like that!”

Doyoung cringed, whining, “Dad, that’s so corny!”

“I don’t care. Now hurry, join the frame with (Y/N) and smile!”

His father may present himself as strict and stubborn as one of the most affluent men in Korean society even after the war, but behind the scenes, he knows how to entertain his children. Doyoung’s childhood never had a dull moment. Oh, how wished he could follow the same fate as him.

This happy photo was a golden treasure to you, framing it so it could be preserved. It was one of your last traces of him, aside from Areum. Next to it, a much smaller photo of you and Areum was placed. Also all smiles for the two of you, Areum firmly sat on your lap and clasping her hands above her dress. You cut your hair during that time, showing the dog tag necklace that once belonged to him on your neck. You were really devoted to him, and he’s grateful, to say the least.

He knew he shouldn’t take anything either before going back to the hotel, but there was just no way he can’t take this one photo of his favorite girls with him. He already kept his photo strip of him and Areum from the carnival in his back pocket, so he’ll just have to work out the consequences then.

Returning to the car was bittersweet. He took one more proper look at your home, taking in all the positive energy to have such a loving family even if he can only watch from afar. While Yuta revved the car on, Doyoung deeply sighed from the backseat. What a spontaneous evening.

“I’m guessing you didn’t resist seeing your lover either, Doyoung?” Yuta commented, viewing him from the mirror. Raising his brows playfully, “Got caught in the VIP seat of you two lip-locking.”

“First of all, that’s creepy, Yuta. Second, you most definitely know what it feels like to be separated from your lover. Cut me some slack.”

“Whatever, that’s not my business anyway. But good luck to you if Manwol asked why there was a sudden extension.” The older friend shrugged, his foot pressing on the pedal to drive off the area.

“Keyword is if she asks. Now please, drive faster, Yuta. I have a shift to fill in now.”

Last night was a gift, but also an aching reminder of what could’ve been if he never died. The sun is slowly making its appearance again, bringing in another morning in this reality. Another work day for Doyoung, more waiting to be done.

Yet recalling his bonding moments with Areum, he’ll most likely get through another few decades. He yanked out his photo strip from the back pocket of his trousers, gazing at their authentic happiness. He muttered to himself,

“I’ll see you and your mother again, and we’ll all celebrate and rejoice. ‘Til then, my sweetheart.”

Meanwhile, ever since that peculiar “dream” with Doyoung, it left you with a lot of questions. Perhaps, it’s all just in your head. Though it doesn’t quite answer how one of your beloved pictures went missing. That’s definitely something you’re going to ask if your birthday comes up again.

Moving forward, his kind words pushed you to do your best. In the next years, you first became a family lawyer for a few years to get used to the field, but permanently shifted to being a public attorney because you wanted to be able to represent those who are suffering the most yet can’t afford the legal help to avoid it.

Just like what you and Doyoung aspired.

Balancing that with a kid was overwhelming, but with your and Doyoung’s families helping you out, your stress lessened.

You served as a huge inspiration to female college students wanting to pursue law. Since law is still perceived as a male-dominated field, you constantly pushed to make space for women in that workforce. It was also rare of you to lose a case because of the hard work you put into disproving every loophole and suggesting the correct punishments for the wrongdoers.

“You really outdid yourself once again, (Y/N). Or should I say Attorney (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

“Shut up, Doyoung. Tell me more about your hotel staff friends. That Johnny guy seems very fun, and Jeno seems like a lovely boy.”

“Johnny’s a playful lad, always the life of the party. Jeno is like the younger brother I really wish I had. Donghyun-hyung is okay and all, but he’s so high maintenance.”

“Shush! He’s doing fantastic right now. He pursued acting like he always wanted.”

“He deserves it because he’s hard-working, like yourself, Attorney.”

You’ve never fallen in love the same way you did for Doyoung. Though you won’t lie that you’ve slept with a few men during nights out with your co-workers, committing to another man was something you had no time for. You always envisioned Doyoung as the one fucking you senseless.

People viewed it as stupid to be still lovestruck over your dead lover, but you’ve been called worst insults in your life that it doesn’t sting that much anymore. At the end of the day, your heart still soared and longed for Doyoung.

You just can never let him go.

“It’s still unfair to you, Doyoung. I should be ashamed.” The two of you were at a drive-in theater, watching from the trunk of his pickup truck. Your back laid against his chest as his fingers roam your torso in an upwards motion.

“No, you shouldn’t, (Y/N). It’s natural to desire human affection. I’m the one who should be sorry for not giving it to you.”He replied, completely ignoring the film.

You scoffed jokingly. “It’s silly how we’re so deprived of sex, especially with each other.”

“Oh, (Y/N). Don’t get me started, I’m suffering here with my hand alone while you can just find any available man.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You surrendered, directing your head from the front to the back. “At the end of the day, it’s still your touch that still gets me weak.”

“My dear, on the day we reunite, brace yourself. I’ll show you who you really belong to.”

1973

Doyoung’s been on duty with reading books to children lately, and again, he’s aching to see what Areum’s up to. Rereading past letters from her from his birthday celebrations were driving him wild. After helping one young girl look for more books under the Madeline series, he had to make an exception. Just this once, and that would be it.

Even if he was under disguise, he desperately wanted to have just another brief conversation with her, especially that she’s a lot older compared to their last encounter. Doyoung witnessed her bloom from this imaginative young girl to a strong woman chasing after her dreams.

Like mother, like daughter.

He spotted her at a small bookstore to buy books for her classes and newly arrived ones from the States, very much interested in western literature. But upon seeing the peaked prices which were more than what she saved for, she put the book back on the shelf and gathered the ones she actually needed.

This was where Doyoung took it upon himself to offer his help. Staying long enough in the middle of the living and the dead, he was capable to turn visible.

“Stephen King, huh?” He inquired, scooting to her side and pulling out the book again to take a better look at it. He came across this book in his library, even if it was in English. “I see that you’re into horror. These books are in English though.”

Areum knew speaking to strangers is not a good thing, but if anyone reached out to her to talk about books, she can’t help but feel excited. “I’m interested in a lot of genres, and this book is pretty popular right now so I wanted to check it out. Besides, I’m reading more English books so I can become fluent one day.”

“You aren’t scared of the storylines?”

“I went through a life of hardships, sir. Nothing scares me anymore honestly.” Doyoung couldn’t help feel proud and sorry for her. Without questions, he led her to the counter and paid for all books despite her insisting not to.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t have. I can always come back for those books when I save up more.”

“It’s fine, really. With your taste in literature, you have a promising future as an author if that’s what you’re aiming for.” He complimented. Areum was frazzled at how spot on this stranger was, trying to convince him again.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t pay you back?”

“Pay me back by publishing your books.” He confidently stated, bringing out his wallet to pay the cashier. His astonishing kindness and encouragement for her are heartwarming, bowing with gratitude.

“Thank you,” She halted because she didn’t know his name.

There was no way Doyoung can disclose his actual name, so he just picked a random nickname some of the kids in the hotel who he read to coined for him. “I prefer giving people my nickname. It’s tokki.”

“Thank you, tokki. I’m Areum, Kim Areum.” She thanked him properly, struggling from carrying her things to shake his hand, but Doyoung signaled her not to.

“Nice to meet you, Areum.” He greeted back.

As Areum was more ready to part ways, Doyoung’s fatherly instincts activated due to the heavy box she held. Her dorms must be a bit far and it was already nighttime. Anything can happen.

“Excuse me, Areum. But do you mind if I help you with your books? It’s pretty late, so I just want to make you get back safe.”

Something in Areum was very willing to trust this man she just met. Sure, he was quite covered up, but it’s almost winter and maybe he didn’t want to catch a cold. Though, his intentions looked good. She’s heard stories about people getting robbed in these alleys, so she accepted his help.

Her dorms were a few blocks away, giving enough time to be acquainted with this man. Though he was the one mostly asking the questions and she answered them. She didn’t pry on it too much and went with the flow.

“Are you an only child in your family?”

“Yes. It’s also just me and my mom. I never got to meet my dad sadly. He died before I was born while battling in the Korean war.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” No matter how long it’s been since the war, the trauma of it all still haunted Doyoung.

“It’s been years so it’s fine. I found out recently that he risked his life to save his senior officer during a surprise attack from one of my uncles. If that isn’t bravery, I don’t know what is.”

“So you’re not mad at him for leaving?” He asked, hoping he didn’t cross boundaries either. He needed this closure.

“It was hard to accept at first. All my friends grew up with their actual fathers, and I felt outcasted. But there are just some things we can’t control, you know? Besides, people always spoke of him highly and that makes me proud. Though,” She answered honestly, covering up the bitterness in her words in other not to disrespect him. “I’m pretty sure I saw him in a dream when I was younger.”

Doyoung’s heart leaped. So she may recall quite a bit. “Oh really? What was it like?”

“The only person I told this to is my mom. It felt quite unreal, honestly. I was around 7-8 years old at that time, and we were at a carnival, enjoying the attractions and stuff. Then we transitioned to this huge library where he read me a bunch of stories. One of them was Madeline, I believe. One of my favorites!”

Doyoung replays the fond memory in his mind. Time really flew by so fast.

“What a fun dream, it seems to be.”

Areum was elated at the best memory of her youth, smiling to herself. “It truly was. It felt like I was with him, you know. No matter how many times he told me he loved me there, I still respond the same way and that nothing has changed.”

“I love you too, Areum.” He mumbled quietly. That dream should not have been the only memory they have of each other. Neither of them deserved to be parted.

Soon enough, they arrived at the front doors of her dorm residence. Since it was strictly for women, she explained that she’ll carry the box from here on.

“Thanks again for the help, tokki. I’ll make sure to pay you back soon.” She spoke so casually because, for some reason, this mysterious man felt trustworthy. Her gut feeling may fool her, but she let it pass.

“Take your time, Areum. I wish you the best of luck.”

Before they went separate ways, something about her bitter words from awhile ago bothered Doyoung and he wanted to say something about it. Because looking into the far future, if he didn’t, he knew he’ll regret it and make moving on harder.

“Wait, Areum!”

Areum abruptly reacted to the shouts of her name, almost dropping the box. She faced again the mysterious tokki, who now had an awkward stance with his hand in the air waving at you.

“Yes, tokki?”

Compiling his thoughts, here goes nothing.

“This is quite random but your dad... I just know he loves you too. He’s also proud of you for being strong and intelligent. I hope you don’t forget that.”

Areum was baffled by his statement, but it was uplifting to hear that. Maybe this tokki guy was going through the same thing as her, so she didn’t want to judge too quickly. She was taught to never judge a book by its cover from you. By the quick blinking of her eyes, some tears dropped down to her cheek. She let out some sniffles on her way up to her dorm room, reassured that this stranger may just be correct. She heard what she needed to hear.

It’s been a long time since he reunited with his daughter, even if she’s fooled into thinking that the dream was just a dream. His status as a father was renewed. Even if he got a major scolding from Manwol upon his return at the hotel for ditching his shift.

“She blamed you in public? Oh no, my love.” You consoled your lover after he told you the tale.

A lot of iconic songs were released during this decade, so this dream accommodated it. It was set in a jazz bar, where all sorts of alcohol on display with assorted vinyl CDs by the platform at the end. Dimly lit with numerous empty tables and chairs, and it was only the two of you. Dressed to the nines for the occasion, your flimsy hands couldn’t stop playing with your hoop earrings. A definite staple while you swayed your hips to the beat of Superstition by Stevie Wonder.

Doyoung sat in one of the bar stools in a red v-neck top and flare pants, marveling at your physique and movements in that indigo romper. You could feel his fiery stare, your body flowing through the groove to capture him into your spell. The dream version of him always gets easily distracted when you act suggestive, especially when he isn’t in control physically. Only his words can he sort out.

Dancing towards him, you dragged his arms away from his seated position to lead him to the empty dance floor.

“Let’s dance off the stress, shall we?”

Pulling off the famous dance moves and grooving in freestyle, it was a blast. Both your young energies were in sync. From the funky beat, it shuffled into a slower yet soulful song. The unwinding mood could only mean that this dream was reaching its end. You took Doyoung’s arms again, placing one on your waist and the other interlocked with you. Taking the lead, you waltzed back and forth, twirling yourself in his arms.

Doyoung cracked a smile from the phone and in the dream, immersing himself in the lovely song. It was always played on the radio during the late-night shows, dedicated for the couples out there. With you, he could finally understand why couples request it every night.

“You are the sunshine of my life,” He sang along while feeling your heartbeat against his chest. “That's why I'll always stay around.”

“You are the apple of my eye,” You carried from where he left off, equally resonating with the lyrics. No matter how many times you’ve said or expressed your patience for each other, this song held a special place. It summed up everything you’re both fighting for.

“Forever, you'll stay in my heart.”

1980s

It came to Doyoung’s attention that there’s a new member of the hotel staff, and Manwol put him in charge of touring this new addition around and orienting them about the hotel rules. Considering he wasn’t busy, he went for it.

This person would be the replacement of Johnny, who finally passed through the afterlife in high spirits after his younger brother Mark took his rightful place as the heir of their family business. Originally, it was him, but his stepmother and stepbrother stabbed him alongside his father to get ahold of the power. Without proof, they led the business as she freely did, overworking Mark numerously and spending their money to their heart’s desire.

Doyoung couldn’t let this pass. Since Manwol hired a human manager back in the ‘70s named Kun to better facilitate human-related affairs for the hotel (taxes, bills, etc), he requested him to talk to Mark then introduce him to you.

Kun also made sure to inform you that this was Doyoung’s idea.

“This Johnny is the same Johnny that Doyoung talks about in my dreams? The one who brings the fun out of him every once and while?”

“That’s right, Ms. (Y/L/N). Due to the betrayal, he can’t move on until his stepbrother is taken down.”

The fact that Kun was a bridge to the two of you felt miraculous. Now and then, Doyoung tasked Kun to buy you flowers or coffee whenever they meet. Sometimes, he’ll ask him to send his letters to you too. In return, you replied to those letters, attaching pictures of you and Areum over time. He hung it up in his office, taking a look before every shift.

Kun didn’t mind being in the middle. While Doyoung gave her cases to work on, it makes it easier for him to wait for her. Doyoung was a guest first before being a member of staff, and as the human manager, he’ll make sure that he gets to move on too.

Even if you don’t accept cases from big companies, the touching way how Mark described his passed older brother persuaded her otherwise. He even opened up about watching his father and older brother get killed right in front of him. From there, he was held hostage for years and never told anyone about that night.

It was undoubtedly the biggest case in your career. Up until this day, everyone still talks about how complex and intense the battle was.

“Always finding a way to make justice prevail, Kim Doyoung.” You thought to yourself after gathering more evidence from Mark and Kun, working closely also with forensics and the police.

And that you did. With additional information on Johnny’s side, which helped find the empty puzzle pieces to prove his stepfamily’s guilt, they won the case. Life imprisonment and forced transferring of roles, Mark became the CEO. All those involved in hiding the truth got caught and fired from their positions.

You deserved your influential status, and due to your never-ending service, Doyoung found himself falling in love with you over and over again. Even from far away, you felt his connection and passion.

Currently, you were dealing with five cases, one of them being another request for Kun and Doyoung. It was for the murder of Yuta Nakamoto in the late 40s.

Being a migrant from Japan, numerous Koreans held grudges for their people. He was mistreated and disrespected, even if he had the most caring soul. He even found love, ready to get wed. But one normal evening after his job as a Japanese teacher, he was mobbed by Koreans and heartlessly killed. At first, he wanted vengeance. But after Manwol telling stories of souls burning into ashes when they get revenge, he changed his objective to watch the demise of all his killers, who became very influential people in Korean society.

Representing with you was his former lover, Sooyoung. No matter how many times she tried to appeal to the court in the past, no one paid attention because she was a woman and interracial relationships were taboo. Even if Yuta held a special place in her heart, she eventually got married to another man. In the beginning, she felt guilty, but after Yuta told her in a dream call that she shouldn’t be afraid to open herself up again, she never held back. And as a fellow woman who’s been ostracized, you sided with her.

She may not have her happy ending with Yuta, but it only felt right to avenge his wrongful death.

It’s a tough battle, these murderous men not owning up to their crime, and the public also discriminating the dead man by saying he deserved it. But you knew you could do it, even if it’ll take a while.

Back to the newbie, he was in his early twenties. He went by the name, Jaehyun. Just about to start his life, yet taken away just like that. Aside from being the next bartender, he has another position as the vinyl boy in the music section of the library. It came to Manwol’s attention that he wanted to pursue music when he was alive, listening to vinyl CDs or cassette players and taking singing and piano lessons growing up. While he figured out what he wants to do while moving on, he’d be in charge of organizing and playing music for the souls checked in. Sing even if requested, especially by the women who are charmed by his attractive looks.

He was a literal old soul, jazz being his favorite genre. Most of the time, he played Chet Baker or Frank Sinatra when it’s his shift at the bar. He was known for always showing his best and happy-go-lucky sides to everyone.

It took him a few years to start opening about his life, longer than most souls. But maybe because the trauma of it all stung. One night, when he, Doyoung, and Kun weren’t working, he mixed a few cocktails and completely fell off the radar.

“I was a part of a duo with one of my best friends, Hongseok. It was really fun to perform and make music with him, but then he suddenly got into drugs and had a ton load of groupies. I-I just couldn’t do it anymore with him if he wasn’t going to stop. Once I cut off ties with him, I was signed by a class A producer who loved my compositions. He even got me all sorts of opportunities to perform on TV, and I was so excited for it. But one week until I made my official debut, Hongseok reached out again with apologies, wanting to meet up so we can fix ties. I was hesitant, but I still give him the benefit of the doubt because we go way back….” He confessed, puffing out smoke from his cigarette and putting it down on the ashtray. Before he continued his story, he scoffed with profanities.

“That bitch. I fucking trusted him! I was too good to give him another shot. So after practice, he sent me an address to his apartment or so I thought. We were having drinks, just like old times. But something felt off feel when my mind started feeling hazy and I started coughing continuously because my stomach ached like crazy. He asked me if I was fine, and I told him I was. Then suddenly, baam!” He crashed his hands on the table, shocking the hell out of his two companions.

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun.” Kun cursed under his breath. Doyoung nudged him the shoulder to mind his language.

“The deities are watching you, Kun. Let Jaehyun-ie continue.”

So he did. “There I was, standing beside my dead body while Hongseok rummaged with surgical gloves through my bag to steal my notebook of songs. He planted cocaine on the table where I conversed with him, and also in front of my face. Beside my glass, he laid the vial of poison he used and called the cops. With fake tears, he cried on the phone saying that he came home to my dead body and a suicide note.”

Stillness between the three of them was filled with betrayal and disappointment. For a so-called friend, this must be the worst thing you can do to them. To lessen his suffering, Jaehyun brought back his actively lit cigarette and smoked it until all the tobacco was gone. Exhaling a dark grey smoke, he spat out.

“I-I couldn’t believe it, hyungs. I lost everything after making the wrong decision of seeing him. And now, he signed under that label that found me to “give honor to my talent”. How tragic that I suddenly took my life he’d say, oh bullshit! You took away my life because you were jealous!”

Kun decided to call it a night, requesting Yukhei who’s on duty to take Jaehyun’s upcoming shifts so he could calm down. Escorting his intoxicated figure out so the other guests won’t feel bothered, Doyoung contemplated if he wanted to forward another case to you. You’ve been getting so much workload lately, according to Kun, because your success rate is high and highly in demand.

“What happened to Jaehyun?” Manwol showed up from behind, sitting across him. “Did he finally tell his story?”

Doyoung mildly groaned, devastated by it. “He did, and it breaks my heart. He’s still so young, like me.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Manwol stirred the spare cocktail, ingesting it in one go. “Is it another case worth forwarding to (Y/N)?”

“If it helps Jaehyun move on, possibly. I know it’s hard to find staff these days, Manwol. Also, she’s stacked already. I don’t know if she’ll take it.”

She snickered, patting his shoulder. “You know if it’s from you, it becomes her priority. She loves you that much, you know.”

“I know, but I wish I could help her. In person. I would’ve been a lawyer and taken Jaehyun’s case if I were alive. Murder in the first degree, false reporting to the police, stealing, his persecutor is insane and still walking free.”

The fire of passion in Doyoung wasn’t new to Manwol, nodding as he spoke. He was capable of a lot of things, but the world just wasn’t ready to see it. She was more concerned at how the deities will react when he engages in human affairs again. Even if it helps a lot of ghosts move on, it’s highly discouraged to interfere with the living world. It’ll ruin the entire flow of the world.

Doyoung already knew what he got himself into, but it’s one of the few ways he still feels relevant. Always in service for anyone who needs it, dead or alive. If the deities take him away, it’s no joke that it’ll be a riot in the entire hotel.

“In that case,” Manwol’s piercing eyes scanned right at him, filling up his glass with vodka. Second to Doyoung, she grew a fond liking to Jaehyun. She never knew how much he’s been hiding during his stay. “Forward it no matter what. End his murderer’s career at all costs.”

Doyoung smirked, lifting his glass high to clink with hers then chugging it one go.

“I’ll investigate first with Kun to know more about Jaehyun’s life, then we’ll look for someone who wants to testify for Jaehyun to meet with (Y/N).”

Amid the craze and problems in the hotel, at least Doyoung was at ease with how successful his family. Areum became a well-known author for fairytales, got married, and had 3 kids of her own. She most definitely didn’t live down to Doyoung’s promise.

“Is he a nice guy?” Doyoung inspected the man who married his only daughter. It felt like yesterday they played around in the carnival room.

“He is, Doyoung. Intelligent and caring, nothing to worry about.” You calmed his shaking leg, resting your head on his shoulder while you watch the fireflies from the campfire set prepared by the deities.

“I’m just looking out for her, you know.”

“She most definitely does know, even telling stories about us to her kids. Our grandchildren.”

“It’s hard to believe that we’re technically old when we’re always young in these dreams.”

“Maybe it’s just you being used to your youth. Meanwhile, aging is beating my ass every day.” You joked, covering yourself up in the blanket you shared. Doyoung’s bottom lip jutted out, huffing at your mean comments.

“Yah, you take that back.”

“Make me.” You fired back, riling him up.

Doyoung in the dream attacked you by tickling your sides mercilessly. Your body uncontrollably arched back and forth, falling back to the blanket you sat at. He took the advantage to pin you down, gripping on your arms to the side. With his face near yours, you closed the gap with a cheeky kiss. His touch softened, allowing you to pull him lower by his collar. Your lips molded together in every movement, feeling his tongue lick your lower lip for entrance. You freely gave in, moaning filthily.

“Didn’t even have to test me like that, my love.”

How you wished this was longer, if it weren’t for the fast fading out, and morning has arrived again. A short-lived euphoria, yet it left your panties drenched under the covers. The arousal still ran in your veins.

“Kim Doyoung, you tease.”

Back to your real life, aside from bravely taking on controversial cases, there was a thrill in every case you did and it showed by your fast-paced talking and hand gestures. Whether you won or lost, mostly the former, knowing that you helped someone made your life more meaningful.

He often forgot how you’re a grandmother during your dream calls already as time flows differently within the living and the dead. They were the only way you can be youthful and energetic. But with your actual body, it began to weaken.

Early 1990s

Nature decided to take heavier measures on you physically. On one of the monthly visits to the doctor, she noticed something off with the checkup and tests. Especially in the chest area.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), I’m afraid that you have a growing lump in your breast.”

“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”

“If breast cancer is one of those though, then unfortunately yes.”

Areum was by your side that day, tearing up at her announcement. You, on the other hand, remained still and nodding at the truth. You’ve fought for a lot of things in your life, and you were so determined to beat this one.

Chemotherapy, medications, and scans are tiring and draining, but you managed to live for 2 more years. You’ve fully retired, and now and then, mentor the juniors with their cases. You’ve traveled to as many places as you can before the stages of cancer rose.

In your last months of life, you were bedridden in the most expensive hospital in Seoul, getting visits from Areum with her family, Jungwoo and Taeyong. As the latter served as definite friends to Doyoung, it was only natural to befriend them when they came into your life post-war. They supported Areum in any way they can too. They’ve become a great company in your boring life especially in the hospital. Nowadays, Jungwoo loved sharing stories about his hyper grandchildren, who share similar traits to him, while Taeyong excitedly talked about his recent investment with a promising music company with the dream to debut talented individuals and go international in the long run.

“Mr. Lee Soo Man is dedicated to it! He hopes that next year, all his plans can start and be executed.”

“You’re always investing in start-ups, you know? You think this one will be bigger than the rest?”

“Music is universal, you know. Language barriers may be there, but music brings us together.”

Taeyong was always a delight to catch up with. However, you didn’t expect that conversation would be your last with him. A few days later, he suffered a sudden heart attack and passed. This was a sign that your time was coming. Your body falling more and more feeble every day as the disease fully took you over at night, the monitors always going on a high every so often.

It’s only a matter of time before you leave this life, and looking back, you’ve lived a tough yet productive life. Your daughter was happy and thriving in her career and family. You helped families and couples from their abusive households. You defended those with loved ones who were murdered, robbed, and lied to. You ticked off all you wanted to do beforehand.

Areum made sure to visit that night specifically as soon as she could. With your recent test results have been failing, her gut feeling kept insisting.

It’s a good thing she did.

Meanwhile, it was another day of work for Doyoung, just returning a bunch of books in their respective shelves after some teenagers left on the table. Before that, he bid Taeyong goodbye in the tunnel. It’s always nice to see a familiar face, so he couldn’t miss out on it. He shared any life stories he had with you, updating him about your state. Doyoung knew about it beforehand, and as selfish enough to look forward to it, it pained him to know you’re suffering. He only hoped you could fight through it.

“Doyoung-hyung!” Someone suddenly shouted, but he was shushed by an old lady reading her romance novel, who pointed at the sign that read “Keep quiet in the library”.

Doyoung was also annoyed, instantly nagging on the point person. “Kun! Can you read the sign? Jeez, this isn’t the first time so please-”

“(Y/N) is going off the monitor.” He blurted out. The news from one of the nurses he befriended buzzed through his phone. After finding out about his story, he wanted to help Doyoung especially when he was still alive. Doyoung may a part of the staff, but he’s still a guest. He dropped everything in his hands. Before he could race to the hospital, he changed into a specific outfit for this occasion.

This was it.

Areum was the only one by your side of your hospital bed, weeping due to your weak state. You didn’t want your other family members to witness this crucial moment. It stung that you’ll miss out on the futures of your grandchildren, but you were satisfied to just be a part of their lives. All this machinery trying to sustain your life served its purpose, but the illness you’re fighting was stronger.

“Mom....” Areum sniffled in her handkerchief, holding on to your boney hand. “I’m not ready for you to go.”

“Oh, Areum.” Your thumb caressed her soft palm as reassurance. “You grew up so well. An independent woman you are, you are so loved.”

“Mom, please....” She begged. “I can’t lose you too.”

You will never know how Areum held in her sorrow of not being able to grow up with her father. She hated the feeling of being fully abandoned. She wanted things and people to return to her, but she can’t make that choice. Being by her side all her life, losing you will be the hardest struggle she’ll have to face.

“Areum, you must understand...” You paused as a pang of pain in your chest stabs you. After a minute of enduring it, you continued. “...We are put on this world for a specific time. And if we’re called to leave, we must face it.”

She whimpered whilst holding on to your hand. She really thought you can get through this one like the rest, but your hair has gone, your body lost much weight, and your eyes lost their light.

“Mom, are you happy? You’ve fought through so much to get where you are. I can never do what you did.”

“Y-Yes, I am.” You stuttered, gracing a promising smile. “I had you, our families, and your father watching over me..”

The dreams you get on your birthday were fairytale-like stories that pushed Areum to become an author. She denied how unrealistic and supernatural they were at first. Another trait of Doyoung she got. However, when she noticed how wider your smiles are and energetic you get in the mornings after rather the feeling of distraught, she reckoned to believe they were something special. Despite knowing your love story and its downfall, she felt exhilarated at the things you and her dad did there. In a way, it brings him closer to her. But she still had that void.

“I envy you for that, mom. I wish I met him or at least came to me even if I least expected it!”

Oh, little did she know about that time in the bookstore back in the 70s. It was not coincidental; you and Doyoung planned it very well. You just played along to her complaint, alerted that this wasn’t your story to tell at this time. “Forgive your father just this once, okay? He never wanted this kind of fate for any of us. If one thing stayed constant in those dreams, it’s him always asking how you are doing.”

Her tears become uncontrollable, allowing herself to get puffy eyes and let it all out. “When you see him, please tell him I’m sorry and that I love him no matter.” “Oh, Areum. He knows that, so don’t worry about it.”

The clock was ticking for Areum before she’ll be asked to leave. With you bringing up her father again, she had one last question. Her courage to ask it was so little when she was young in fear you sulk and break down. It hurt her when the bad parts of your past tormented you.

“How much do you miss him?” The question put you in a point of self-reflection. The only person you’ve opened up to talk about him in detail was Areum. Even with your friendships with Taeyong and Jungwoo, there were some things you never disclosed with them. And never did they force you to answer because they can read you on the back of their heads: you’re still heartbroken, yet remained devoted to him.

“I miss him so much that even if this became my fate for accepting his notebook back in our university days, I would foolishly do it all over again. In those times he was no longer with us, it taught me to appreciate what and who we have in our lives because tomorrow is never guaranteed. From his impact, I learned to take care of myself again so I can take better care of you. I’m grateful you were born; he left a piece of him for me.”

“You’ve suffered so much, mom. I hope you can rest peacefully.”

“Thank you for never leaving my side, Areum.” A few tears escaped your eyes, infectious to your daughter’s gloom. “I love you.”

Meanwhile, Doyoung was right outside viewing you and Areum sharing your last conversation and goodbyes. As much as he looked forward to reuniting with you, he didn’t want to leave his only daughter alone. The deities should have shown her more mercy. Still invisible, he observed how Areum trembled when she heavily closed the door of your hospital room. Covering her sobs with her handkerchief, she took one last look through the small glass of the door. You dove into a deep sleep that would then be unawakened.

“I hope your next life is happier than this, mom, and you can cross paths again with dad and grow old with him too.”

Doyoung’s urge to show himself to his daughter to console her was overpowering him, but he restrained himself this time. A few hours later, your consciousness was faltering. Your five senses were losing touch one by one. Important memories of your long life played in your mind. Then your heart gave in and stopped beating. The doctors present there have pronounced you dead. The transition from your body to your soul watching it be covered by a blanket by the nurses was swift yet strange. You didn’t know where to go and what’s next. No book prepared you for this nor can you ask the doctors what to do. Standing there lost with so many questions, it only took someone’s enthusiastic calling for your name to soothe you down.

“(Y/N)!”

It hit you instantaneously that when your day comes, Doyoung would call for your name. Your old age and past illness really affected your memories. He was an honest man and kept to his word this time.

And there he was, just along the hallway.

This was no longer a dream.

This novel kind of exhilaration got you moving your feet, still sore and slow because you were still an old lady.

“Doyoung!”

You shouted back, over and over again before your boney hands slid open the door. At the same time, your old figure drastically and permanently transformed you back to your active twenties. Nothing physically hurt anymore and your energy was on an all-time high. Your room was the last on the floor, a dead end. The left side of the hallway was just a closed window pane.

When you stepped outside and turned to your right, there he properly stood. He wore the same suit and suspenders combination on the day he approached you on your bike. The actual soul of Kim Doyoung who was no longer behind the phone. No matter how many times he’s seen you from afar, it makes him lose his breath from the captivation. For once, he can see you without barriers.

You just realized how you were dressed back into the floral dress on the day you had your first proper conversation. It’s like you’re meeting each other again for the first time. The beeping sounds of the monitors, wheelchairs moving, and chitter-chatter exchanged by doctors went mute. Stunned, you couldn’t stop looking eye to eye at him, cherishing this special moment.

It finally processed to Doyoung that his patience and efforts paid off. In this journey of acceptance, while enduring its trials, it added up to this sweet result to be reunited with you. The adrenaline rush took control of your limbs, legs running to him on the other side.

As his arms widened for a hug, he spun and picked you around in the air. His arms firmly wrap around your waist while your head snuggled on top of his shoulder. You felt safe, warm, and alleviated. Once he put you back down, the overwhelming joy wasn’t keen to pull away from your lover. Doyoung’s lips somehow got closer to yours, your heart skipping beats and his familiar scent intoxicating your thoughts.

With Doyoung still having you wrapped in his arms, he took his awaited chance to close into your parted lips. The fluttering in your stomach was on overdrive, your entire body reacting immediately from his passion. One hand curled into a fist on the hem of his buttoned top while the other rubbed the back of his head. Your legs almost gave in, but with Doyoung’s strength, he held you tight. No previous kiss felt like this. You didn’t have to worry about getting caught by adults for such a provocative display of affection. Your roommate wasn’t going to splash water if she catches you getting frisky on campus. As for Doyoung, he didn’t have to get paranoid about what his classmates would say about their relationship. You were both in your own world for a while.

But wanting to catch a breather from his thrilling dominance, your lips hesitantly moved away first. You took your time to get lost in admiring his features. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his dazed eyes, he was irresistible, to say the least.

This was how an almost 50-year build-up would end up to.

“My love, it’s really you,” You finally spoke, caressing your thumb on his flushed cheek. “You’ve been through so much.”

As lovestruck as he is, his pent-up tears streamed down instantly. Except they were tears of joy. All those years he held back.

“I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). I’m just happy you’re finally here with me.”

He wasn’t joking when he said that the main lobby alone was exquisite after walking through the city. Aside from Kun, that’s where he introduced you to other staff he worked with, such as Jeno, Jaehyun, and the boss herself, Manwol.

“This boy stayed very loyal, you know?” She commended Doyoung. It was a rare thing with her cold-hearted and aggressive personality. “He read to a lot of kids, taught some of them too, and recommended great books for the souls to read. He listened to a lot of souls who wanted justice then forwarded them to you so they can cross the other side.”

An honor to hear from the owner herself, you glanced at Doyoung with so much love. Such a giver than a receiver.

Beside Manwol was someone whom you aspired to meet. Unfortunately, you never met the other boys you’ve helped, so this was a great chance to see at least one before moving on. Hearing about his case and the treachery of it, you made sure to work on it before you retired, eventually passing it on to one of your trusted juniors. So far, his side was winning and that’s all you wanted.

“Jeong Jaehyun.” You held on to his clasped hands as he bowed to you.

“Attorney (Y/L/N). I’m so grateful for what you’re doing for me.”

“Oh, just call me (Y/N). By the way, your side is winning, my dear. Your younger brother Sungchan is committed to clearing up your name, and that evil Hongseok will rot in life imprisonment for his crimes.” You updated him. Without self-restraint, his arms gather you in for a hug. Jaehyun wasn’t much for affection, but this felt like the right circumstance. In return, you hugged him back.

“Thanks to you, Johnny and Yuta are resting in peace.”

“And you are next, Jaehyun. My junior taking your case is topnotch, so you’re bound to get what you truthfully deserve.”

After sharing such a heartfelt moment, you asserted your attention to Jeno. Not going to lie, you’ve looked forward to meeting this boy the most. He was there with Doyoung from the very beginning.

“Doyoung-hyung gets giddy after he makes a call, and tells me everything that you’ve been up to.” Jeno joined in. “He gets grumpy though too, so I like pestering him around to light him up. Oh, I’ll never know what you see in him, (Y/N).”

That gave him a joking slap on the shoulder by Doyoung, signaling to cut it out.

“Hyung!” He fakely cried, hiding his face behind Jaehyun’s shoulder.

You suppressed a laugh, eventually sputtering out like an engine. Doyoung sighed, failing to redeem himself. But it’s alright. A simple peck from you on his cheek got him all flustered.

“Aish, take your romantic shenanigans when you’re in your room, not in my damn lobby.” Manwol cringed, the evident love bug getting on her nerves. “Alright, everyone. Get back to work!”

Checking in your room was an experience. Since you’ve been to numerous places through the dream calls, there was one main thing you’ve missed to do with Doyoung. As soon as he lifted you by your thighs and roughly shoved his tongue down your throat, you were in for a heated evening. This dominant side of Doyoung when it came to sex was completely fresh. After diving into more erotica over time, he learned about visual porn through Johnny and Jeno. You can say that he studied it very well.

“Almost 40 years of waiting, (Y/N).” He trapped you from above, sliding one of his hands to your bare breasts until it landed on your clothed core. Rubbing up and down your clit in a torturously slow place, he smirked at your desperate whines. Your breaths turned heavy, soaked by his actions. “Remember when I told you to brace yourself back then?”

“Shit, Doyoung...”

“Shush love, I’m in control now. So be a good girl for me, alright?” He growled in your ear, sucking on your soft spot on your neck. You obeyed that night, unbuttoning his shirt impatiently only to reveal his toned abdomen then lowering his crotch to give it a tight squeeze.

He hissed against your neck, pushing your panties to the side and sliding in your wetness.

“You are asking for it now, love.”

A steamy night it was, making up for all those lost years.

The following day, the struggle to walk was real. Jeno even pointed out your limping when you were roaming around the library Doyoung worked at. You never had a younger sibling, but he acted like one. So you punched him in the shoulder to shut up. “Jeez, you’re both so physical. Let me live!”

“Jeno, you’re dead. Don’t say nonsensical things.”

You learned how this hotel’s main purpose was to guide and fulfill the last wishes of ghosts in the living world before moving on. When Jeno asked you if you still have unfinished business, you realized that there is one thing left. Even if you completed your bucket list, that one thing is only possible through the hotel. You and Doyoung sat across Manwol, monitoring your shared dream call like she always did.

“Is this really the only thing you want to do here, (Y/N)?” Positively nodding, she gave you the signal to lift up the phone.

Areum found herself in an unfamiliar forest nearby a river during the day. Even she’s always like playing outside with nature in her childhood years, this location didn’t ring a bell. In fact, she was physically back to being that young girl with the same mature mind in this dream.

She wasn’t a vivid dreamer like yourself, forgetting them as so as she woke up. Even in that “dream” with her father, there were so many gaps. So for this one time, she can fully grasp her surroundings. This dream must have a purpose, she wondered.

While she followed the path that the dream assumed for her to take, she then clearly caught a glimpse of a younger you at the end of that path. Running around and laughing in the grass.

“Mom!” She called out, moving at a faster pace. It’s a good thing this dream brought her back her agility.

At the end of the path, it unveiled you lying down on the grass. Wearing in a dainty dress that reminded her of the 50s, there was an unfamiliar young man beside you. His head face planted on the grass because you pushed him off your body when he tried to tickle you.

It turned out that she arrived at your favorite spot with Doyoung. She’s only heard stories of things you’ve done and talked about her, but due to the war, their spot was devastated. Soon after, it turned into a small condominium building overlooking the river.

“Areum!” You squealed cheerfully to hear her much younger voice. She tackled you in a hug, and you still naturally felt it from where you sat.

“My sweet child,” You cooed in her, patting her back. “How are you?”

“It’s been difficult, but I’ll get by in time.” That was the first thing she managed to say, the grief being very much fresh. No mother wants to be separated from her child, and you weren’t exempted. But that is how life works: you come then you go. The truth tends to hurt.

It was obvious to Doyoung that you were still saddened by leaving Areum, taking this opportunity to give you space and finally interact with his daughter. No disguises nor distance. While the most important women in his life are still hugging in the dream, he pulls himself off from the grass and brushes away some leaves from his hair.

“Areum, I see you paid me back by having top-selling books for children.”

Areum peeked from your shoulder to check who the other man was by your side talking to her. Once he was clean from dirt and leaves, there was the only person he resonated with her. From pictures and stories shared by you, the actual man was with her.

Her actual father was in this dream with her.

“Dad!” She abruptly pulled away from you to approach her father for a bigger hug. You don’t blame her for that, she deserved to see her father even for a bit.

Years of having that empty void only for her biological father, she could care less at this very moment

Doyoung has never cried in a dream call with you, however, this long-awaited moment with his daughter resulted in him softly bawling while feeling her hugs from the chair. He’s proud and at peace to move on not just as your lover or a passionate university student, but as a father.

In their moment of content, only there did it make complete sense to Areum at the unusual memory during the ‘70s at the bookstore wasn’t random. It proved that he really did his best to reach out to her in any way he could.

“This whole time, you were the mysterious tokki. I just thought it was a coincidence. I’m so sorry, dad, that I didn’t notice you.” She sulks. Doyoung in the dream pats her back while lovingly rubbing the nape of her head.

“Oh, Areum. Don’t feel bad. I just wanted to see how much my little girl became independent and studious.” He replies, comforting the disheartened child. “I read all the letters you sent me during my birthday. I was touched then and touched now for this moment. I am proud of you, my daughter. And my love for you never changed.”

The affirmation in his words put Areum in a state of joy, rekindling that spark from the 70s. “I love you, dad.”

Your last mission in this world was to have a special outing with your complete family. Regret was always prevalent in the past, wanting to do this and that but never pushed through. But not in this dream. Just the three of you, happy and carefree from it all.

Unfortunately, Manwol just gave a hand signal that your time was almost up. Time flies by so quickly when you’re fully immersed in something you’re enjoying. Doyoung wasn’t capable to bear the bad news, but with you by his side, you helped him.

“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”

Areum sighed, reality seeping back into the situation. One sleep isn’t enough to make up years of loss. However, she still managed to remain positive in those circumstances. “I wish things worked out differently for our family, but who knows what our next lives will take us?”

In an instant, the two of you in the dream gave your daughter a big group hug. One she’s always yearned for. It’s moments like this where you mustn’t take anything for granted with your family.

“I’m happy you’re reunited with each other, mom and dad. Rest well.” She whispers with a smile, feeling fulfilled. She can grace the living world without wondering how things would be like with a complete set of parents anymore. This dream call successfully filled that empty void in her heart.

Once you’ve bid your final farewell and hung up the phone, you and Doyoung can say the same. A little bittersweet, but it lightened all the burdens in your hearts. The both of you can ultimately rest peacefully and move on.

The timing was perfect for Kun to inform you that the car taking you to the bridge leading to the afterlife was ready.

Jeno, Manwol, Kun, and Jaehyun didn’t want to miss out on this moment, waving farewells to you both. This lifetime may have taken you away from each other physically for a long time, but you still held on to each other. Most people gave up, though it’s not wrong either. It’s better to let go rather than holding on sometimes.

But the both of you were different, something, not even the deities didn’t expect. It’s only up to them to decide if they’ll give you another chance to be together and relive a longer life. A very rare sight indeed. To be granted or not, your story set a standard.

That a love so strong is so patient it endured all the challenges and stress.

“On to the next life, Doyoung?” You asked him, leaning against his shoulder as the car drove under the tunnel. All at the end of it was merely a white sky, where a long bridge awaited them.

“Make sure you wait for me this time.”

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Sorry for Not Winning You an Arcade Ring | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Barnes!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 8.7k (should I even apologize at this point?)

✦ summary — your ex-boyfriend comes back into your life the moment you finally meet your dad — although things are complicated, your feelings are intact.

✦ request — Could I please ask for a story where reader is Bucky’s daughter and she used to date Joaquin but they broke up and then when she meets Bucky they get back together? Angst and drama and fluff and something steamy but no smut please?

✦ warnings — angst, drama, mentions of food and beverages, mentions of violence, language, depiction of symptoms of mental illnesses and light depiction of abandonment issues, daddy issues, fluff.

✦ author's note — coney island (the song) doesn’t have much to do with the fic, but I couldn’t take that line out of my head and thought it was fitting. Next Joaquín fic will be the one where reader used to date Peter, I promise.

════════════════════════

Joaquín swallowed with difficulty. His saliva had become unbearably thick in seconds. As he stood in front of the building, the building that now looked taller than it really was, he felt an itch in his neck.

Sam gripped Bucky’s nape, encouraging him to lead the way inside the building. Bucky was as frozen as Joaquín.

The older man was speechless. Joaquín, however, was not. “Are you sure this is the right building?” he rasped the question directed to Sam.

“One hundred percent.”

Joaquín nodded. The world was small, and he didn’t want to find out just truly how smaller it could get. “I’ll wait here.”

Bucky shook his head. Joaquín’s stomach dropped. He wanted to be there for Bucky, Sam had told him how important this was for him — when he agreed, Joaquín didn’t know he would come back to this place by supporting Bucky.

Connecting dots had never been hard, much less now that it was part of his job, yet he wanted to be mistaken.

“Let’s get this over with, boys.” Sam patted Joaquín’s shoulder. His other hand was still on Bucky’s nape, and by the looks of his grip, he wouldn’t let go.

Joaquín knew exactly what Sam was doing and he wished he had somebody to stabilize him too. “I’ll lead the way,” he mumbled.

“I have to talk to the—“

“There’s no need,” Joaquín interrupted.

Pushing the main door open, he nodded down at the security guard. Still the same old guy. The man smiled, nodding upward as though asking if Sam and Bucky were with him.

“They’re cool,” he assured the guard.

“It’s good to see you,” the guard told him, still smiling.

“You too.”

Joaquín slanted his head, motioning for Bucky and Sam to follow him. He walked past the elevator, explaining, “The elevator is always broken.”

Sam frowned. “We’ll take the stairs, then.”

Their steps, silent yet heavy, carried nerves and apprehension. Joaquín didn’t know how to explain himself or he should even try to do it, Bucky was scared of being rejected, and Sam knew Bucky wouldn’t recover quickly from this.

Joaquín leaned over to look at the paper in Sam’s hand. The number scribbled on it confirmed his suspicions.

“I—“ God, he couldn’t back down now. “Who will do the talking?”

“I will,” Bucky said in a quiet voice. “I just need you two there.”

“Yeah, man, no problem.” Joaquín was thankful his voice didn’t crack.

Bucky lifted his fist, yet his knuckles didn’t touch the door. Not yet. Joaquín felt cruel for wishing Bucky would take longer.

The knocking wasn’t desperate as Joaquín had anticipated. Perhaps Bucky wanted to make a good impression, or perhaps he was wishing nobody would answer the door.

The door opened and Joaquín found himself frozen. Stuck between running away and pulling you into the tightest hug you had ever received.

The euphoria of seeing you again was overwhelming and bittersweet. You looked good. You had always looked good in his eyes.

You were speechless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of him or because of Bucky.

Sam said a soft hi to fill the air, only making it worse for Bucky and unbeknownst to him, for Joaquín.

You stared at him, trying your hardest to smile although the muscles in your face didn’t give in. Eyes moving to Bucky, you found yourself rudely staring.

He did the same. Nobody said anything for a while. Three pairs of eyes were on you, and your brain couldn’t seem to function.

You had looked for him for years, in different countries, finding rejection in every corner of every big and small city alike.

Your gaze deviated to the other side where Joaquín was standing. You picked on Sam’s shift, sandwiched between the other two men.

Joaquín tried to hold your gaze, but you looked away.

“Uh...” you trailed off, eyes jumping from Bucky to Sam. They stopped for a moment before deviating again towards Joaquín. “Come in.”

There weren’t any pictures left in the living room, instead you had filled the spaces with ceramics and trinkets.

You had the same colorful couch Joaquín once spilled coffee on, and the same cozy chairs you had bought online by mistake.

”I should have introduced myself...” Sam trailed off.

“I know who you are,” you assured him. “Nat talked a lot about you.”

“You met Nat?”

“She came looking for me no longer after people disappeared. Maybe two months.”

You motioned for them to sit. Bucky and Sam did so on the same couch whereas Joaquín walked towards a chair. Your cat jumped onto the chair before he could take a seat.

The cat looked up at him and meowed.

“Fatatita,” you chastised the cat. “Let him sit down.”

Before you could approach the couch to pick the cat up, Joaquín lifted her in his arms. He sat down and placed her on his lap.

The cat curled up there, spiting you.

You sat on the other chair, closer to Bucky and Sam.

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky asked. So timidly you barely heard him.

You nodded.

“What else do you know?”

“Not much. You— you’re my dad and nobody knows who my mom is.”

Bucky looked down. “I’m assuming Natasha told you.”

“No.” You made a face, remembering that day like it was yesterday. “Somebody sent me an uncensored file. They probably wanted me to track The Winter Soldier down and make their job easier.”

“But you didn’t.”

You couldn’t tell if he was offended or relieved. “I actually did. I poured a lot of money into it and it never paid off. I lost track of you after Siberia.”

Joaquín squirmed around on the chair at the mention of Siberia.

Siberia practically ruined your life. Picking yourself up had not only been hard but something you hadn’t even been sure you wanted to do. Things had lost meaning. The only reason you were still here was your stubbornness.

Sam curiously asked, “Were you trained or something?”

“Not thoroughly. I’ve always been fat so I was useless in their eyes.”

Bucky sighed. “Sounds like them.”

You didn’t expect anything else from a terrorist organization.

“Oh! I didn’t offer you anything to drink...”

“I’m good,” Sam and Bucky answered at the same time.

You hesitated before turning to the other side. Joaquín barely shook his head. His fingers were buried in Fatatita’s fur as the cat laid on his lap with her eyes lidded closed.

“So... to what do I owe the visit?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, I wanted to meet you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You had assumed he needed something from you. Knowing he wanted to meet you made your decade-long sacrifice and the heartbreak almost worth it.

“I was saving up for a trip to Brooklyn. I heard you were around there.”

“Yeah. It’s home again.” The glance he gave Sam didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You wondered if you’d be in the same situation they were if things had been different.

Home was a foreign concept to you. The word didn’t even feel real no matter how many times you said it in your head.

════════════════════════

Outdoor cafes weren’t really your style. However, you could admit the place Bucky and Sam had taken you was nice.

You took his offer to visit him and Sam for a week. Working from home was a pain in the ass sometimes in terms of organization, but it had given you the ability to look for him from the beginning.

The square table shook as Bucky placed his metal hand on it. “Would you stop texting?” He chastised Sam who was sat in front of you.

“It’s something urgent. I wouldn’t be interrupting family bonding time if it wasn’t, you know that.”

Sam’s comment was the end of it. Bucky reclined back onto the chair and gave you a small smile.

Oh, so Sam truly meant the family part. Family — a magical word that evoked foreign sensations in the pit of your stomach.

Sam’s cellphone started ringing. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” he announced as he declined the call.

Both Bucky and you followed Sam with your gazes. Your stomach flipped as Sam greeted Joaquín.

Sam smiled. “You got it so quickly?”

Joaquín nodded as he tried his best to not look your way. Sam took the envelope from Joaquín’s grasp.

He could hear your laugh as though you were giggling in his ear like you used to and the temptation was too much for him to handle. He was only human.

Bucky was laughing too, seemingly at something you had said. Joaquín didn’t blame him, it was easy to like you, to laugh with you, to regret every second not spent with you.

“Okay,” Sam sighed. “I didn’t want to ask, but I can’t bite my tongue any longer... what’s up with that face and those eyes you’re giving (Name)? You did the same—“ He groaned. “Don’t tell me...”

“I won’t tell you,” Joaquín tried to joke.

“Shit, man. What happened?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Mmmh. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea...”

“Please? I need you for this.” Sam waved the envelope. “But I promised I’d have coffee with them. She just got here.”

Joaquín hesitated to answer. On one hand, he knew Sam would need his help; on the other, he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had going with your dad.

“Come on,” Sam insisted. “Bucky is paying.”

Your eyes were on them as they approached the table. Sam once again took the seat in front of you, leaving Joaquín to seat practically next to you.

You wanted to flip the table and scream yet you remained in your seat, neutral and borderline frozen.

Sam leaned over to say something to Bucky. They were close enough for you to hear, but your ear didn’t pick it up.

You stood up from the table, surprising yourself more than you surprised the three men accompanying you. “I’ll place our order,” you announced.

The place was pretty in its simplicity, only decorated with coffee and pastry themed artwork. Functionality had been a priority and by how busy the place was, you could only presume they had succeeded.

There was a couple all over each other next to the window and a group of friends doing homework three tables from them. Laptops could be seen everywhere, just like people checking their phones.

You had to wait in line to place the order and the line was already building behind you too. The couple all over each other didn’t even seem to realize somebody was staring at them and if they did, they couldn’t care less.

You took a glance outside where Bucky was chatting with Joaquín while Sam made a phone call.

Sam slipped his phone into his pocket. “I didn’t give her my order... do any of you want to add anything?”

“I gave it to her,” Bucky assured him. “We thought you would take longer.”

Joaquín feigned interest in his phone. He had already read all of his messages, but he wanted to avoid the comment building in Sam’s mind. He could only hope his friend will keep it to himself.

He felt your presence as you sat back down. “There are two orders above ours. They will bring it to us.”

“Did you ask for extra milk?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. My acid reflux has been giving me trouble.”

“Because you eat too quickly,” Sam chimed in.”

You lifted both eyebrows. “You could have ordered tea.”

“Absolutely not.”

You snickered. Joaquín snorted. Instinctively, the two of you turned to the side to look at each other.

Something flashed in his eyes, the same you fell for that hazy summer. They were still warm, albeit tired now. As they became glossy while he held your gaze, you wondered if yours looked the same. You wondered if he had something to say and hoped he wouldn’t find the courage. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take it.

The order arrived, shattering the moment.

“Thank you,” Joaquín said, staring at you.

“No problem,” you rasped. Fuck.

��We’re hoping to convince her to move closer to us,” Bucky said, not subtle at all, as he took a sip of his beverage.

Joaquín followed the circumference of the mug with his finger in clockwork motion. “Good luck.”

“Thank you. I want to make up for lost time and the distance makes it difficult.”

“Videocalls are quite effective,” you reminded him.

Joaquín winced. His finger slipped into the beverage.

Bucky tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

“It’s hot.”

“Well, it’s coffee,” Sam stated the obvious.

You couldn’t take Joaquín’s reaction off your mind. Not even on the way to Sam’s and Bucky’s place.

Sam said he’d be home by dinner time. He also warned you to not let Bucky cook. You couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh.

The guest room was practically the same as the one in your apartment. Same size, and a close enough layout.

Bucky had a proper look at your luggage. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring more clothes.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Your apartment is so well-decorated that I assumed things.”

If only he knew how hard it had been to replace the remains of Joaquín... “I did it at random, just trying to fill empty spaces.” You lightly changed the subject, “I like your couch, by the way.”

“Sam hated it at first, but he has grown fond of it.”

You faked a chuckle, prompting your cat to lift her head. Sprawled on the bed, she stared at you.

“Comfy, Fatatita?” You reached over to scratch her head.

“How did you come up with her name?”

“Count Von Count’s cat is named Fatatita. It’s an homage.”

“Count Von Count?”

“From Sesame Street. He’s a vampire obsessed with numbers and he’s also a Count.”

You sat on the bed, pulling Fatatita onto your lap.

Bucky sat on the edge, twisted so he could look at you. “Sooooooo...”

“So...”

“Where do you know Torres from? You had a weird moment there.”

You hummed, entertaining yourself with combing your cat’s fur.

Bucky didn’t let it go. “Now that I think about it, you knew his coffee order without asking...”

“Intuition.”

“Does your cat have intuition too?”

“Probably. They’re curious creatures.”

“You can tell me anything, (Name).”

”That’s the thing, there’s nothing to say,” you admitted. “Whatever you’re assuming is pretty much what happened.”

“I will kill him for cheating.”

“What?!” Seeing him cross his arms with a faint smirk on his face, you added, “You know what? Do it. You’re not making me talk.”

He let out a hybrid between a whine and a sigh. “I thought that one would work.”

“If you must know, the breakup was shitty.”

“Touchy subject, got it.”

Touchy would never cut it and you couldn’t understand why. “Do you remember any of your breakups?”

“From when I was a teen, yeah. But I don’t think they were bad.”

“Oh, so you were the one who ended the relationships.”

After a short silence, he admitted, “Yeah.”

Your body shook with laughter. ”At least you’re honest.”

════════════════════════

After an hour and a half of working on your computer, you decided to stretch and fix yourself a cup of coffee or tea. 9:00 AM was the perfect time to drink something other than water.

The door to the bathroom closed as you opened the guest room. The living room was empty, just like the kitchen.

Such a thing didn’t last. Somebody called on the door. Bucky hurried to open the door,

You heard Joaquín’s voice. “Is Sam ready?”

“Come in. He’s taking a shower.”

Great! Just who you didn’t want to see. Why was he even here? He should’ve been doing whatever he did in Las Vegas, not ruining your family bonding time.

Your cellphone rang in your hand just as you had finished pouring coffee in a mug. Seeing your neighbor’s contact name, you took the call immediately.

“Hey, Ben. Everything okay?”

Your neighbor giggled. You knew it was fake as always. “Hey, pretty girl. Where have you been? I made your favorite pastries yesterday but you didn’t answer the door.”

You ignored the pet name. “Oh! That’s very sweet of you. I’m out of town right now.”

“Ah.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Is your cat by itself?”

“No, no. I brought Fatatita with me and my best friend is taking care of my plants.”

“Well, then,” Ben said drily, “call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Joaquín rolled his eyes. Oh, so he was listening in, huh.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” Ben said.

The line clicked and once again you couldn’t take your eyes off Joaquín who was glaring at you.

“What?” you snapped.

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You hummed. He nodded. Neither of you gave signs of tearing your eyes off each other.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope.” You took the mug in your grasp. “I was just about to get back to work.”

Walking past him still hurt, maybe less than the last time, but that wasn’t saying much when he shattered your heart that day.

What was his fucking problem? First, he barged back into your life without warning, and then dared to give you that look as if you still owed him explanations for how friendly you were with other people?

The nerve of him! Of his stupid pretty eyes you were sure nobody could say no to.

Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck this. You were tired of not getting over him when he had no consideration of what you wanted or needed. He was the one who led you on by making you believe everything would go back to normal.

Had you made a mistake by breaking up with him to go look for your dad instead of asking him to go with you? Maybe, but at least you didn’t make him believe everything would be okay.

At least you had the decency to admit you had fucked up when you went back to him. At least you didn’t try to impose your wishes on him.

Now your day was ruined and you still had a shit ton of work to get through. Approaching the bed, you picked Fatatita up and hugged her to your chest.

You technically could have asked Bucky for a hug, he had said he wanted to make up for lost time, but you didn’t know him that well and it was embarrassing.

Begging for affection was something you were past of. You had taken care of yourself since you were 14, and learned the hard way that people didn’t deserve your tears.

Still, hot tears streamed down your face. You weren’t sure if you were angry, sad, or frustrated, but you wept until your cat forced you to let go of her.

If Bucky knew you had been crying, he surely know how to keep it to himself. You had lunch together between idle chats and nothing more happened.

You couldn’t get used to him, no matter how hard you tried or how much interest he showed in getting to know you.

Tearing down the wall you had built for years didn’t even sound easy to do, actually doing it seemed impossible as of now.

“I gotta run a few errands,” he told you as you carried the dishes to the sink, “wanna come with me?”

“I haven’t finished my work for the day.”

His face fell. “Next time.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Bucky gave you a tight smile and so you watched him leave with a weird feeling in your stomach. Was this how children felt when they saw their parents leave for work?

Sam didn’t take long to arrive. You didn’t have the full grasp of what they truly did, the superhero part was clear, but you didn’t know if that was their job or their side gig.

He greeted you with a smile. Trying his best just like Bucky.

“Bucky’s running errands,” you notified him.

“Yeah, Joaquín told me he called. I forgot my damn phone in the morning.”

“Oh...” You didn’t know what to say.

Sam sat on the yellow couch he used to hate. “Piece of advice?”

You braced yourself for the same thing your best friend had told you. ‘Joaquín doesn’t deserve your hostility.’

“Don’t call him Bucky to his face.”

“Wh—“ It took you a minute or two to process what he had said. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he told you softly. His eyes were on you, analyzing you. “Are you okay?”

“Lots of new things at once... I’m not good with...” You bit your bottom lip. “Work is driving me crazy,” you lied.

Sam pensively hummed and you knew he wouldn’t touch the subject again. He probably knew you were lying, and he’d surely tell Bucky, but what could you do?

Well, you left Brooklyn in a hurry. Your bags had been made for days when the date finally arrived. Relief washed over you the moment you stepped into that plane.

Bucky’s feelings worried you, that was true, but you felt out of place in his and Sam’s apartment. They had been welcoming and kind, and the fact that they weren’t the problem stung.

As a teen you fantasized with everything you would do and say when you found your dad, but adulthood had crashed onto you in a giant wave. It washed away the naive illusion of one day having a normal life; a family.

You called him as soon as you got to your apartment. “Just wanted to let you know I made it safely.”

“That’s good to hear.” The line shuffled. “How’s the weather?”

“Fine, I think?”

“Sunny?”

“Kinda cloudy. It’s drizzling.”

“Ah.”

“Hey, I— I gotta go. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

Bucky craned his neck as he looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah. Take care.”

You hung up immediately.

“What am I doing wrong?” Bucky asked out loud.

Sam threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “Nothing. Just give her time.”

“We should get her a job here,” Bucky suggested. “Maybe that way she’ll move closer to us.”

Joaquín shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I forgot you’re an expert on her,” Bucky bitterly said.

Joaquín turned to look at Sam. His friend didn’t help him out and instead said, “You could ask her first.”

“Should I?” Bucky asked Joaquín.

Shrugging, Joaquín stood up from his seat and took his jacket. “I think we all know the answer she’ll give.”

“If you had told me where she was when we met—“

“I didn’t know you were her dad,” Joaquín snapped. He looked down, frustrated with himself for letting Bucky get to him when it wasn’t his fault either.

“You dated her.”

“Look, she didn’t tell me who her dad was. I just knew she was looking for him.”

Bucky was left speechless. Joaquín put his jacket on and walked towards the door.

“Joaquín...”

“Not now, Sam.” He pulled the door open and left the apartment without any other comment.

Joaquín walked down the street, aimless. He should’ve called — he could’ve called you right now in fact. But what could he say? He didn’t even know why it hurt this bad.

The next time he heard about you was a couple months later. Sam and him were on a quick mission and Sam felt the need to give him updates about the family dynamic.

“She doesn’t want to meet Sarah and the kids,” Sam ominously said.

“I understand Bucky and you want to have a good relationship with her,” Joaquín assured him, “but I don’t get why you come to me for advice when we’re not together anymore for a reason.”

“Because you know her and we don’t.”

“She doesn’t cope well with change.”

”Is there any way to convince her?”

Joaquín had asked himself the same question. Many times, in many places. The conclusion was always the same. “No.”

════════════════════════

Walking up the stairs with produce bags was part of your weekly routine. The elevator rarely worked and you didn’t trust using it when it did.

It was early. The market had been almost empty when you arrived — you had to wait for a few people to set up their products before buying.

Early mornings and all-nighters were your norm. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in.

That was a lie. You could, you just chose to ignore it had happened. Everything always went back to a time you weren’t sure you would ever get over, and at the point you were in your life, you would rather ignore your past altogether.

As you reached your floor, you tried to remember if you had bought lemons or limes. Oh, well, you’d make do. Now you just needed to buy cat food and you’d be set for the week.

You had just unlocked your door when you heard a voice behind you.

“For a second there I thought you were out of town again.”

“Nah, I just really wanted some fresh fruit.”

Ben hummed. “Wanna hang out for a while?”

You considered it for a moment; you wanted to say no. Yet you gave in. “Yeah, why not?”

You let him in first. Ben avoided knocking the bags you had placed on the floor in order to open the door and stood in the living room, eyes on the plant near the window.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you told him as you carried your bags into the kitchen.

He remained in the same spot until you came back. His blue eyes focused on you as you awkwardly stood in front of him.

Ben leaned in, hands ghosting your sides.

You placed both palms on his chest and pushed him off you. “We said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Right...”

Whoever was at the door saved you from an uncomfortable conversation by knocking with urgency.

Ben frowned. “You didn’t tell me you were expecting somebody.”

“I’m not.”

The moment you opened the door, you realized something was terribly wrong. Sam hadn’t visited you since the day you met him although he and Bucky called often.

He went directly to the point, “I need your help. It’s important.”

You nodded, letting Sam in. “I’ll talk to you later, Ben,” you said, hand on the door handle as you waited for him to leave the apartment.

You saw him glare at you, but Sam’s presence was enough for him to keep his complaints to himself.

Sam sat down on the couch, watching you as you hesitated on whether to sit down or walk into the kitchen.

“Want some water?” you offered.

“Sure.”

“Ice?”

“No, thank you.”

You filled your glass with crushed ice and a little bit of water and carried both glasses towards the coffee table.

With your glass between both hands, you asked, “What’s up?”

Sam didn’t look at you as he said, “It’s about Joaquín.”

“I—“

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two and I don’t care.” Sam made a pause, allowing you to munch on ice. “I haven’t seen him in two weeks, I can’t find him anywhere.”

You cleared your throat, fighting a cough. “And what do you want me to do? I don’t even know where he lives.”

Sam took a gulp of water, not knowing what to expect. “You said you weren’t trained. Your file says otherwise.”

“I never said that.”

You had been careful when you answer that particular question. You hadn’t been enough for Hydra, but that didn’t mean they didn’t break you first.

“Why did Viper spare you?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip. It was more than complicated — you didn’t even remember much from that day. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “She beat me up and the next thing I knew, Kraken was taking me to my first foster family.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with her ever since?”

“No—“ You made a face. “Well... I think she sent me the first lead to find Bucky. The actual file that said he was my dad.”

Sam placed his glass back onto the table. “She’s been on and off in Vegas for a while.”

“You think she did something to him,” you asserted.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You clenched your jaw. “How can I help?”

“Telling me the truth.” He became extremely serious as he added, “I know you have contact with Seraph.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t care about Seraph, but the girls under her wing had suffered enough already. “I can’t tell you anything about her, Sam.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “Look, (Name), I already talked to Zemo and he doesn’t know anything.”

“Why can’t somebody from the Air Force find her? Or him?!” you defensively asked.

Sam scoffed. “Just how much you know about him?”

“Last thing I knew he was choosing The Air Force over me.”

You poured ice into your mouth. Barely able to close it, you let a few little chunks melt before you started munching again.

“We don’t have time for this,” Sam lamented, “Joaquín’s life might be on the line.”

You shook the glass in your grasp. “I can link you up with one of her angels. That’s it.”

Sam nodded, pulling his phone out. “Give me her info.”

“No, no.” You put your glass down. “We go to Madripoor and the contact is made there.”

“I’m not taking you to Madripoor. Are you insane?”

“Probably.”

“Your dad would kill me!”

You shrugged. “Don’t tell him.”

“I can’t ruin my relationship like that.”

“Sam...” You whined when he shook his head. Almost pouting, you stared directly at him. “Please.”

“No, that face won’t work on me.”

“I’ll explain things to Bucky.”

“Oh, you will. You are taking a flight to New York in...” He checked the time. “In two hours and telling him to his face that you still have contact with Hydra.”

“I’m not a child.”

“That’s exactly why you’re telling him. Adults don’t hide shit like that!”

“You don’t get it.”

“And I never will. Besides, you owe this to us for the stress you’ve given your dad and for refusing to meet my sister and nephews.”

He was right.

You pushed yourself off the chair. “How light should I pack?”

Sam made a face, twisting his mouth. “I don’t know. Pack like you did last time just to be safe.”

Well, you had twenty minutes to pack. And to struggle with putting Fatatita in her cage.

“Hey,” you called for him from your bedroom’s doorframe. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Depends.”

“I bought produce that could go bad. Can you give it out? Everything’s on the counter.”

His face softened. “Of course.”

Your cat wasn’t too happy with being trapped in a carrier, much less with once again putting up with children in the plane.

So there you were, uncomfortable against the window with a whiny cat. You hated window seats and although planes were fine, you were sick of them.

Bucky picked you up at the airport without a word. He helped you with your luggage while you freed Fatatita from the carrier.

She snuggled up on your lap once you were in the car, but Bucky didn’t start the engine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked.

You would’ve preferred that he yelled at you. Maybe he would once you explained yourself.

“My plan was to join The Angels.”

He didn’t yell. “What?”

“I was lonely.”

“You have a cat. You could’ve gotten another one or something. Anything that wasn’t that.”

“Yeah, and I love Fatatita,” you said indignantly as you massaged her head, “but she can’t talk or hug me back.”

You loved her snuggles, she was a sweet cat and you wouldn’t have survived the last six years without her. But she wasn’t human.

Painfully, you added, “I feel like I don’t belong here. You have Sam and his family already, you have a home...”

”We’ve invited you to join.”

You didn’t fit in with Bucky or with Sam, much less with Sam’s family — they sounded like nice people, but if Sarah was half as intuitive as Sam, she would be able to tell you were uncomfortable and you didn’t want to offend anybody.

You hated being alone and yet every path you took seemed to lead to loneliness. Maybe it was time to accept you had idealized your dad and he couldn’t live up to the standard.

Or maybe that wasn’t the issue, maybe you were as a whole. Living with it was your only option.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing is.”

Yeah, nothing was easy, but this thing particularly was kicking your ass.

════════════════════════

Things between you and Bucky were tense. He took great offense after you confessed you had considered going back to Seraph so he barely spoke to you.

You had only heard updates about Joaquín — or better said, the lack of updates about him.

Focusing on work or anything that wasn’t the phone on the table next to the couch was practically impossible.

Sam’s call eventually came through. He said Joaquín was alive which wasn’t relieving for either you or Bucky.

You wanted to hear that he was safe and sound. Alive was good, but not enough. Not when you knew exactly the type of things Ophelia was capable of.

“Bring a jacket,” Bucky told you. He couldn’t hide how mad he was — his voice was rough.

You silently complied, making sure to leave water for Fatatita.

On your way to the hospital, you tried to find something to say. The silence was unbearable, but you couldn’t help but think you would be a bigger nuisance.

Bucky pulled into the vast parking lot and found a good parking spot in no time.

You didn’t want to go there. Your mind had already run wild and the things you could encounter terrified you.

Fear seemed like a distant experience from a naive child. You hadn’t been raised like this.

But you hadn’t been raised to love anybody and yet you were, so full of love you would have rather died.

“I’ll wait here.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stretched his arm to open the passenger door. “You are not staying here.”

Huffing, you got out of the car and waited for him to do the same. You slammed the door closed and he glared at you.

You immediately regretted listening to Bucky and coming to the stupid hospital. What were you even doing there? What would you fix?

Joaquín looked like shit. You could feel each hit as your eyes analyzed his bruised face. To make it worse, his left arm was wrapped and immobilized. You didn’t want confirmation he had more injuries — you didn’t need it.

“What did you find?” Bucky asked calmly.

Joaquín struggled to speak. “They’ve been doing experiments on people. Kids included.”

“And you didn’t think of telling anybody in case you needed backup?”

Bucky called your name sternly, warning you to shut up.

“No. He deserves it. They could’ve fucking killed him!”

Joaquín stammered. Of course he didn’t have a good answer. Of course he had to worry you sick even years later.

You felt actually sick to your stomach. Regret and anger often came hand in hand, but they had never made you feel like this.

“Let’s go outside,” Bucky commanded. “You need air.”

He pushed you out of the room and all along the hallway. People looked at you weirdly, surely wondering why you were being rushed out of the hospital.

If air had filled your lungs, you didn’t feel it. Stripping yourself off your jacket, you looked up at the sky. Why did you have to react like that?

Showing you cared never brought you anything positive. When you didn’t put people in danger, you ruined your relationships. And now you were just acting like an emotional idiot over nothing.

You punched the wall out of frustration.

It was not nothing.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky moved you away from the wall and further into the open-air parking lot. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His arm was tight around your shoulders.

“I just— I can’t believe him, dad! He’s always been this careless.”

Bucky became frozen.

“I know I’m being too emotional and I shouldn’t, I’m sorr—“

“Don’t.” Bucky tightened his grip on you. “Let it out, it’s okay. I’m here.” His voice broke. “Dad’s here.”

You hid your face in his jacket, for the first time in your life crying on your dad’s shoulder as he steadied you.

════════════════════════

You had to admit you missed the bus. New York wasn’t what people painted it as, much less the romanticized version your dad had presented you.

Either way, you were already there and you didn’t plan on moving out any time soon.

You were careful to not shake the reusable bag in your grasp too much. Bucky had never tasted your cookies and you would change that in a few minutes.

Memorizing the path towards the apartment was easy. Sam had given you a few tips so you wouldn’t have to call him all panicked because you were lost again. Luckily, he had gotten over it already.

Sarah was already at Sam’s and Bucky’s when you arrived. Apologizing for being late, you placed the homemade cookies you had brought on the table.

Sitting between Sam and Bucky, you asked Sarah, “You didn’t bring the kids?”

“Joaquín took them out for ice cream so we could talk about adult stuff,” she easily explained.

You glowered at Sam who had just served you a glass of lemonade.

“You’ve avoided him for too long,” he said.

“And you know exactly why.”

“I’ve heard both versions.”

You shook your head, knowing you wouldn’t win this argument. Sarah lifted her eyebrows.

“She’s as stubborn as her dad,” Sam told his sister.

“If I remember correctly, you used to refuse to admit you liked Bucky,” Sarah shot back.

“Don’t take her side!”

“No, no, Sarah, tell me more,” you encouraged her. “This is great material.”

She laughed, so did Bucky and eventually, Sam joined in.

The day you met Sarah had been bittersweet. She hadn��t held grudges against you for refusing to meet her and her children earlier and they welcomed you the same way they welcomed Bucky.

In contrast, you did hold that grudge against yourself. Yes, you hadn’t been ready to meet more people and were scared of not fitting in, but it wasn’t their fault.

The kids won you over the second you met them and the rest was history.

You tried to avoid glancing at the door when you heard the key sliding in, but you betrayed your pride and gazed at Joaquín the moment the door opened.

His face wasn’t bruised anymore and his hair was longer. He looked good, but that was to be expected.

You stood up to greet AJ and Cass, hugging them both. Joaquín smiled yet didn’t say anything.

As he parted from you, AJ asked, “You didn’t bring your cat today?”

“She’s at the apartment, probably asleep or enjoying her new cat tower.”

“You finally bought one!” Cass had given you the idea when you mentioned you wanted to find something for Fatatita to entertain herself. “She must be so happy.”

“Yup. Wanna see it? I’ve taken hundreds of photos.”

Both kids nodded. You unlocked your cellphone and patiently showed them the photos. The living room hadn’t been ideal for the cat tower so you put it in your office.

The problem, truly, was that the office was almost empty and you hated the color on the walls, but you hadn’t gotten around to buy paint.

Fatatita looked adorable in her cat tower, though. She would sometimes jump to the desk and lay on it, demanding attention. You never died her.

“You’ll get to see it in person soon,” you promised AJ and Cass.

Both kids were happy with such promise. They ran towards their mom, leaving you facing Joaquín. Once again, you couldn’t not stare at him.

“You look great,” he told you.

“Thanks.” You could’ve said he looked great too, but you didn’t want to make it awkward. “It’s good to see your arm isn’t broken anymore.”

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah...”

“I— Uhmm... I brought cookies.”

His face lit up. “I haven’t had one of your cookies in ages.”

You extended a hand in a welcoming gesture. “Help yourself.”

He didn’t move immediately and in consequence, neither did you. What ifs didn’t matter anymore, they didn’t even hurt that much — you just genuinely wished you could interact with him without feeling like you were crossing a line.

You used to be able to communicate without words, to know what he needed just by gazing at him from across the room. Joaquín would read your body language perfectly every single time and never once failed to respect your boundaries.

Not even the godforsaken evening he left.

Would the two of you ever be able to go back to what it was? You didn’t care if he still loved you — he probably didn’t. You wanted your best friend back.

“Anybody want anything from the kitchen?” Joaquín asked.

“Beer, please,” Sam replied.

Sitting back down, you drummed your fingers against your lemonade glass with no particular rhythm. You were being silly, there was no reason for you to be nervous.

Joaquín handed Sam his beer. He then stood behind you.

“Here.” He placed a glass full of ice in front of you. Crushed ice.

Okay, maybe there was a reason for you to be nervous. Something you hadn’t been on your first date or even the day you met him.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

Bucky kissed the side of your head. You leaned into your dad’s warmth, letting the others speak. You were getting better at joining into their conversations, but this time you simply couldn’t focus.

His eyes were on you and yours would’ve been on him if you weren’t resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder.

You used to fantasize about something like this. A family afternoon, Joaquín and your dad getting along...

You lifted your head off Bucky’s shoulder and sighed. “I should get going. I’m still getting used to the subway.”

“Want me to drive you a little bit later?” Bucky offered. “I don’t get drunk.”

“I can drive her if she wants,” Joaquín said.

Bucky looked at him then nodded. “If she wants.”

The answer should’ve been no, but a little indulgence never hurt anyone. “Sure.”

So you stayed until Joaquín had to leave. Sam’s eyes lingered on you as you said your goodbyes — his hug was tight, an attempt to remind you things would be okay.

Bucky hugged you even tighter, almost lifting you off the floor. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he whispered in your ear before parting from you. Your dad kissed your forehead before watching you go.

It wasn’t the first time Sam or Bucky tried to encourage you to talk to Joaquín. You weren’t dumb, you knew he had offered to drive you because he wanted to say something.

Had they planned it all out? You hoped they hadn’t.

The night sky was clear, perfect for a long walk. Although long walks in New York were different, they were a good vehicle to get used to the environment which your therapist would’ve loved for you to do. Oh, well, another night it would be.

════════════════════════

“You can drop me at the subway station.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to know where you live, but I offered to drive you home.”

Home. It still felt like a dirty word. He didn’t say it to mock you, there was no malice in his voice. Once again, you were the problem.

You gave him the address, explaining the directions Sam had given you to not get lost. Joaquín only hummed in acknowledgment.

After a mostly silent drive, you weren’t sure your assumptions from earlier had been correct. Maybe he was just trying to be nice and your brain had played you.

It was probably for the best in the general scheme of things, but you had to admit you were disappointed.

He stopped the car in front of the building. Neither of you attempted to move.

“Can we talk?”

You nodded. “Here? In the car, I mean.”

“Wherever you feel comfortable.”

You both knew where things could go if you dared to invite him in. But you still did.

The elevator was thankfully empty. The space between your bodies almost disgusted you. The last time you had been in an empty elevator with him, neither of you had been able to take your hands off each other.

Turning the lights on, you apologized, “Sorry for the mess. I have a lot of things to organize still.”

You walked towards the couch and picked the box you had left there up. Something moved inside.

A hiss let you know Fatatita was inside the box. You reached in and held her between your arm and your chest.

You put the box on top of the other boxes stacked up against the wall. And motioned for Joaquín to get comfortable.

Fatatita shifted in your grasp so you slowly put her down onto the floor. The cat ran towards the kitchen.

You tried not to stare at Joaquín. The more you did, the more you wanted to bury your fingers in his curls.

“Sam told me what you did,” he quietly told you.

“It’s nothing.”

“You had to move because of me.”

“It was bound to happen,” you said simply as though it hadn’t been one of the hardest decisions you had ever had to make.

He looked down. You hoped he was thinking the same thing you were. ’It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’

“I’m sorry for not telling you who my dad was.”

“I’m not going to say it didn’t hurt, or that I get why you did it,” he admitted, “but I hope you know I would have dropped everything to help you find him.”

“I know,” you assured him quickly. “That’s why I never said yes, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted to join The Air Force more than anything. Your eyes would lit up when you talked about it and I didn’t have the heart to pull you away from your dream.” You let out a small sigh, perfectly picturing him, so hopeful and excited. “And I wanted to, I really did, but you deserved better.”

“But you were part of that dream.”

“You know how much I’ve always hated not having a home, but you still wanted me to move every few years.” It was never going to work, no matter how desperately you wanted it to.

“So I wasn’t enough?” He masochistically peered up.

“Wha— who said that? Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

“Because you would have moved every few years with me. I was only going to leave when deployed. I had all of it planned. We would get married eventually so you’d live with me at the base and...” he trailed off.

Whether he was trying to spare your feelings or to find the right words was irrelevant. You stayed silent, in part because you didn’t know what to do but mostly because you knew him well and were sure he wanted to finish his comment.

“I thought waiting for you was proof that I was serious about us. I asked you to move with me. WITH me, not for me.”

You sat down too. You didn’t need him to remind you or to make emphasis on his words — you had understood what he wanted from the beginning; you wanted the same for the most part, but not like that.

Compromising would’ve been good. Healthy. You wouldn’t be in this mess now. But comprising entailed a specific kind of vulnerability you were afraid you would never recover from.

And you lost Joaquín because of that.

“I was scared and I already said sorry. What else do you want me to do?”

He twisted to face you. “Don’t get defensive, we’re just talking.”

“I just...” You wanted to say a lot of things. If you had drunk alcohol you would’ve let them all out at once and finally, the nuisance from the pills was paying off. “I don’t want you to hate me. That’s all.”

“You can’t possibly think I hate you.”

You shrugged. “I sorta resented you for a while.”

“How did you get over it?”

Lying would have been so easy, but you couldn’t when he was implying you had gotten over him. There had been other people in your life after him and you had ruined those relationships too, but none of them hurt like this.

“I didn’t.”

He sat there, unmoving as he stared at you as if he was waiting for you to tell him it was a joke.

“Fuck,” he murmured.

“Please don’t make it awkward,” you begged him. “We can forget this conversation happened. You will go back to Vegas and I will stay here, it’s okay.”

Everything would be okay. This was just the closure your therapist said you needed.

Joaquín broke it to you, “I live here.”

Speechless, you felt your blood drop to your feet. Deep breaths and counting to ten were as effective as ever and at the same time didn’t cut it. Only you had this luck.

“Sam didn’t tell you I’m Falcon now?”

Now Sam’s and Bucky’s attitude made complete sense.

“He forgot that small detail.” As you recovered your ability to speak, you stressed, “The offer stands. We can forget this conversation happened.”

“I don’t want to forget about it.”

“We can’t do this, Joaquín. Not again — last time was hard enough.”

He enthusiastically nodded. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.” Seeing your apprehension, he added, “As much as I want to, I’m not asking you to immediately get back with me.”

“What are you asking for, then?”

“Another chance? A fresh start? I don’t know. I miss you and I want to be with you, but I’m not going to force you.”

“It’s not that you would be forcing me,” you clarified, “I miss you too, a lot. And the excuses I could give you are minimal, maybe a little petty...” He huffed a laugh. You continued, finally explaining yourself, “I’m scared we won’t really get past what happened.”

Joaquín placed his warm hand on your shoulder. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, blinking rapidly. Sliding your hands to his back, you hugged him.

His free arm snaked your waist. Joaquín hid his face in your neck, moving his hand to the back of your head.

He shifted to kneel on the couch, making you lightly part from him. Your eyes met and you pulled him closer again before he would say anything.

Joaquín bit his bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?”

You kissed him first, tired of pretending you hadn’t been waiting for this since the day he left.

He softly kissed you back, bringing a hand to your face as he cupped your cheek. You relished in his warmth and gentleness, leaning into his touch and consequently kissing him harder.

Removing his arm from around you, he placed his hand on your belly and lightly pushed you onto your back. You ended up in an awkward position, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He hovered over you, fingers caressing your sides as he continued kissing you. You tangled your fingers in his curls as he deepened the kiss.

You rendered each other breathless, touch growing looser as both of you panted.

“So much for not rushing in,” you breathlessly joked against his mouth.

“Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” he panted.

“No, don’t worry.”

He hummed, leaving a small kiss on your jaw before dragging his lips to your neck.

“Although...” He immediately stopped. You chuckled. “My back hurts.”

Joaquín moved off you, standing up and offering his hand to you to help you sit up.

Instead, you stood up altogether and took his hand. He didn’t say no, he let you take him to your room.

You sat on the bed, tugging on his hand.

“Come here,” you needily said.

Joaquín happily complied, leaning in to kiss you again.

When you woke up the next morning, he was sound asleep next to you.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x plus size reader #joaquin torres

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onlythebrave-mp3 · 3 years

Text

my top 2020 fics!

okay! so i recently jumped back into this fandom after a couple of years, and started reading fic again, and i wanted to rec some of my favorites that were written this year. there’s ten on this list, and i probably could’ve done like 30 but this is already so long lol. it’s kind of in a general order, so #1 is my fav for this year, but i tried not to focus on the ranking too much because it stresses me out and i don’t need any more anxiety so it’s ended up being a pretty vague system.

1. Our Lives, Non-Fiction (113k) by @indiaalphawhiskey

listen. I’ve reblogged this fic like 10 times. I’ve read it twice already and it came out less than 3 weeks ago. It is an instant classic, right up there with fics like TIF or Wear it like a Crown. It has gorgeous, gorgeous writing, a thoroughly developed plot and well written character development, and such a compelling story. It is a marcel/louis fic, and I usually shy away from that kind of thing, but i’m so glad i didn’t this time because god, this one is so good. Seriously, if anyone ends up reading it, come and rant to me about it and we can cry together. Halfway through the second chapter, I created a note on my phone so I could keep track of everything I loved, and my comment on that fic is essentially a love letter to @indiaalphawhiskey. It's just so good. If you’re going to read one fic off this list, read this one.

2. Loving You's a Bloodsport (106k) by @rosesau

okay i’m pretty sure this one made me cry like four times, which is a feat for me because i’m not usually a crier. Its soulmates with a little bit of a twist, and the plot is so well developed. Harry and louis’ feelings and their progression are written so vividly and i wish i could forget that i read it so i could go and read it again for the first time. It's also got some enemies to lovers, which is my favorite trope, and all of the side characters are beautifully developed as well. Prince!Harry, soldier!Louis, angsty soulmates. What more could you want? Oh and if you’re not convinced enough, here is a quote that fucking follows me around because its so beautiful: “Love and hate are two sharp knives balanced on a very fine line and I’ve cut myself on both because of you.” (ohmygod)

3. Mine Would Be You (114k) by @crinkle-eyed-boo

okay this one is listed at number three but it really should be 1c lol. I started this one at 11 pm like an idiot, and i don’t think i slept that night at all. It's Exes to lovers, and it's so well written. It switches between the past and the present, it's heartbreakingly beautiful, the breakup and resolution are both so realistically written as well, and there's a great ot5 plotline too that i really loved. This one was also an instant classic- i bookmarked it before i even finished reading it. It's also got beautiful art and Louis and Harry are both artists in NYC, which I'm a slut for. Please read this one, it's so good.

okay i just realized how long this got so i’m putting the rest under the cut

4. The Murmur of Yearning (93k) by @mediawhorefics (for some reason tumblr isn’t letting me tag them??) | mediawhore on ao3

I just finished this one, and my goddddddd it's so good. I read it in a day, and it's essentially 100k. Which isn’t that unusual for me except I did skip a class to get through it (an exam prep class. Not my finest moment but I passed. so.) There are tons of original characters that draw you in, and the whole world that is created is so fascinating and detailed. There's also no homophobia, so if you like historical fics but get triggered by that kind of thing, this is for you! Also, if you’re worried about the non-con elements, I'm sure you could message the author but also feel free to check in with me! I’ll definitely be rereading it in the near future and am totally up for discussing and crying over this fic with anyone.

5. Remember Me Fondly by @bluejeanlouis | kiddle on ao3

ahhhhhhh this one made me sob too! It's set in both the present and the past, and I fell in love with all of the characters. This one is also heartbreaking, but I promise there’s a happy ending. Also, they way this fic deals with the fame and the homophobia and tours that harry and louis went through -even if it isn’t actually canon and is set in the 90s- is so vividly painful and realistic. It's written half through a journalist’s eyes and half through harry and louis, yet the switch in pov is so seamless and fluid and adds so much to the piece. 11/10.

6. Nothing But You On My Mind (83k) by @absoloutenonsense | nonsensedarling on ao3

okay. I started this in the middle of the night, and told myself I'd read one chapter to see if I liked it and then I would go to sleep. I'm pretty sure I read like 6. It sucks you in right from the beginning, and there's such a well developed plot. And it's so unpredictable and all of the details are so nuanced and tiny and then you look back at everything after you’ve finished it and go oh. Ohhhhhh. This one is also enemies to lovers. Are we sensing a pattern here?

7. An Invincible Summer (44k) by @twopoppies | Brooklyn_Babylon on ao3

so as you can see this one is only 45k but i just love it so much that i’m rec’ing in anyways. It’s such a gentle, exploratory piece of literal art, and I kind of want to stay in the world that was created forever. Its set in the 1940s on a farm and i know @twopoppies has said that it started off as an excuse for barn sex, but it such a vivid story and its heartbreaking and emotional and uplifting all at once and please please please go read this. The only critique I have of it is that it's only 40k.

8. Somewhere in Between Lightning (99k) by @nauticalleeds, @shiningdistraction, and jassy117 on ao3

So this one's exes-to-lovers as well, and it's written in such a realistic way. Also i’m in love with the concept of louis on love island, despite the fact that he said he hates it. There's a sauna scene that I still think about sometimes. It's got just the right amount of angst and fluff and pining and despite the fact that it's set on a show that is usually pretty dramatic and unrealistic, this is written in a really beautiful but pragmatic way. I love it. i’ve got it downloaded on my phone so I can read little snippets of it sometimes if I have to wait somewhere.

9. You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) (95k) by @harryrainbows | lucythegoosey on ao3

god so this one incorporates some of Fine Line into it, and wouldn’t say it's a song fic so much as it is written as a canon compliant fic that ties harry’s songs into it and its done so fucking well oh my god. Harry and Louis are exes in this one too (lol i'm sorry) and the build up of them getting together and the pining and longing is written really well.

10. At Risk, I Fold (15k) by @bearmustard | clare328 on ao3

so i know this one is only 15k, but I put this in the list anyways. It's canon compliant, and it does mention the stunts (as stunts), but don’t let that deter you. Harry and Louis are written almost exactly as i’ve imagined them, and this one is such a heartbreaking look into the resilience and love and bravery that they have. It made me cry despite the fact that it’s not really a glum fic. The only reason it is last on the list is because it's shorter and i was mostly intending this to be a long fic rec. The love that they have for each other really shines through in this one, and it’s super gentle and soft and sad and happy all at once and just please go read it.

#my fic rec #hoping this doesnt flop lol #if people like this i might do more #we'll see lmao #also #if you ask me who tops/bottoms #in any of these fics #you owe me $10 #reading fics specifically for who takes it up the arse is weird <3

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feralphoenix · 3 years

Text

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

welcome back to feral’s essay tag where the hot takes don’t stop from keep being hot!

this particular meta has a Lot of citations from canon, and my plan is to have them as actual footnotes in the dreamwidth mirror when that goes up (as i always crosspost my meta there in case my layout text is too small for any folks accessing these from computer and not mobile).

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay contains discussion of body horror, cancer, and many of the darker aspects of Hallownest’s society.

ALSO, AS USUAL: I read Hollow Knight as anti-colonialist fiction and all of my meta approaches the text from that angle. This essay is strongly critical of the Pale King and Hallownest, and affords sympathy to pre-Hallownest societies & native characters, including Radiance. If you come from a Christian cultural background (regardless of whether you currently practice the religion or not), some of the concepts I am going to discuss may be challenging for you. Please be responsible in your choice whether to engage with this content, and also, be respectful here or wherever else you’re discussing this essay. Thanks.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

If you’ve ever looked through my Hollow Knight tags, you have probably seen me joke about the Infection like a lot, usually along the lines of Radiance casting Level 9 Inflict Tang on Hallownest, or “(radi voice) the End of EVA will continue until you Let My People Go” or some such. In addition to being some of the most beautiful body horror I’ve yet seen in fiction, its appearance also makes it a veritable meme factory.

It is also something that inspires a lot of very wild theorizing amongst fans, because canon tells us WHY the Infection exists but doesn’t ever directly explain WHAT it is. To name just a few of the guesses I’ve seen, people have posited that it could be some sort of pupa juice, or maybe some type of parasitic fungus.

I have my own guess, though, and it’s based on hints we can find in-game. I would like to share it with the class today, so let’s take a quick look through the sauce, starting with what we already know!

WHY

We learn why the Infection happened from Seer and Moss Prophet, and this is also summed up more directly in Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

The Pale King wanted to be the only god of light in the crater,* so he tried to kill Radiance by thralling her children - attracting the moths with his light and making them forget about her,** assimilating them into Hallownest. Radiance survived because some moths still remembered and tried to preserve what they could of their original culture,*** and eventually she attempted to reassert her existence and communicate with the bugs of the crater by speaking to them through their dreams. However, the Pale King realized what was happening and ordered his worshippers to shut her out.****

Radiance did not give up, and continued to broadcast her message through dreams. This unstoppable force VS immovable object conflict could not last forever - something eventually had to give, and what gave was the mortals.***** The Infection was an accident that Radiance did not initially intend, but presumably chose to weaponize after the fact as a way to attempt to pressure TPK into releasing the moths and leaving her alone (or, barring that, a way to thoroughly destroy his kingdom at the very least).

SOURCES:

* “No blazing kin. Only one light shall shine against the dark.” - Lore tablet hidden beside the Pale King’s throne in the White Palace.

** “None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters.” - Seer’s 1200 Essence dialogue.

*** “But the memories of that ancient light still lingered, hush whispers of faith... Until all of Hallownest began to dream of that forgotten light.” - Seer’s 2400 Essence dialogue.

**** “The King and the bugs of hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the infection.” - from Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

***** “Light is life, beaming, pure, brilliant. To stifle that light is to suppress nature. Nature suppressed distorts, plagues us.” - Moss Prophet's dialogue.

HOW

Now that we’ve recapped why the Infection exists, let’s examine the process of how the Infection works. We see some examples of this with various characters in-game, and the Hunter also shares his observations of the Infection’s mechanics in his commentary on the Infected Crossroads entries.

Since we’ll be bringing up the Hunter's Journal here, I want to first examine three entries to establish its dual authorship and how trustworthy it is: The Shade’s entry, the Lightseed’s, and Radiance’s.

We know that the bottom section of the Hunter’s Journal is the Hunter’s personal notes on each creature because the game itself tells us so. So who writes the notes on top that give a brief explanation of what each creature is? It’s a common fan theory that Ghost writes these, which I believe is indeed the case.

First let’s look at the Shade, which is automatically unlocked when we receive the Hunter's Journal in-game regardless of whether we have died and fought the Shade or not. Mechanically this is important because if the Shade weren’t unlocked by default it would be impossible to attain the Hunter achievements without dying at least once - this would REALLY suck for anybody who likes to suffer enough to try to complete the journal in Steel Soul mode.

The Shade’s entry reads:

Echo of a previous life. Defeat it to retake its power and become whole.

Each of us leaves an imprint of something when we die. A stain on the world. I don’t know how much longer this kingdom can bear the weight of so many past lives...

Notice that the top text knows exactly what the Shade is and how it works. In story terms, this would imply that Ghost has died and come back enough pre-game to understand the mechanics of how their revivals work.

The Lightseed’s entry reads:

A single-celled organism, completely infected. Scurries about simple-mindedly.

Strange air has been seeping down from above for years. Some of the air became liquid, and some of that liquid became flesh, and some of that flesh came to life. I don’t know what to make of it.

In this entry, the top text assumes that Lightseeds are a Lifeseed-like creature that has been infected, and the Hunter’s notes reveal that this is incorrect and the Lightseeds were actually born from the Infection itself. From this we learn that the top text isn’t omniscient and can be mistaken: It’s written from a limited perspective.

And here’s Radi’s entry:

The light,* forgotten.

The plague, the infection, the madness that haunts the corpses of Hallownest... the light that screams out from the eyes of this dead Kingdom. What is the source? I suppose mere mortals like myself will never understand.

Here, the top text has information that the Hunter doesn’t, and which only a handful of bugs are privy to anymore.

From these three examples, I believe it is safe to say that Ghost is in fact the author of the journal entries’ top segments.

It’s important to remember that the observations these characters make can be not wholly correct, and I’ll bring that up when I believe it to be relevant, but for now let’s build a picture of how a case of the Infection generally progresses by looking at the Hunter’s commentary on Infected Crossroads enemies, and at a handful of characters whose Infection we directly observe: Bretta, Sly, Myla, and Moss Prophet.

The Hunter describes the broad arc of Infection progression in the Violent Husk's entry: “First [the bugs of Hallownest] fell into deep slumber, then they awoke with broken minds, and then their bodies started to deform...”

The two NPCs who we can save from becoming Infected, Bretta and Sly, are initially found emitting orange fog and mumbling to themselves. In Bretta’s case, when listened to, she initially talks about being left behind and forgotten** as she assumes that all people will treat her this way even though she craves affection and attention; Dream Nailed either before or after being listened to, she mentions a “shining figure”.***

Meanwhile, Sly speaks about his pupil Oro and someone named Esmy, and when his symptoms subside he identifies that he was led to the Crossroads village ruins by a dream.****

Listening to Bretta and Sly completely brings them back to reality, after which they leave the underground area entirely to return to Dirtmouth. However, when the player encounters Myla after defeating Soul Master and obtaining Descending Dive, listening to her does not cause any change in her condition despite that she is not yet hostile.

During these encounters, Bretta is surrounded by orange fog, Sly is surrounded by orange fog and his eyes have also begun to turn orange, and Myla's eyes are glowing but there is no fog around her. So, we can deduce that for as long as the orange fog is present, a bug may still be awoken and cured (Bretta and Sly both show no signs of relapse over the course of the game), but once the fog disappears the bug can no longer be saved by external means.

The "deformation" that the Hunter mentions in the Violent Husk entry refers to the large blobs of Infection that develop on the bodies of creatures that have been infected for a long period of time. We observe these upon the Infected Crossroads enemies, as well as on Hollow and the Moss Prophet. We also see that these Infection tumors can eventually kill bugs once they grow too large and impede bodily functions, just like real cancer: The Moss Prophet and Mossy Vagabonds are all discovered in this state after the Crossroads become infected, as are the Husk Guards in the Crossroads.

So, the progression we can see here is that bugs become infected through their dreams, and while they can initially be woken, if left alone they will fall into too deep a sleep to wake up. Some time after this they will start to move around again but will be hostile to any creatures that are not infected. And, if left in this state for a very long period of time, they will develop tumorous growths which are potentially fatal.

Potentially fatal. This is an interesting contradiction to a basic assumption that most players - and even Ghost and the Hunter - seem to hold about the Infection: That is, that the Infection functions like a pop-culture zombie plague, and infected creatures are all undead (reanimated dead things that can't be killed); thus that the enemies that respawn after resting or going offscreen are the same ones that Ghost just murdered, and have simply been reanimated by the Infection once again.

But infected creatures can die of the Infection. What’s more, bosses and unique instances of generic enemies (such as Myla and the Moss Knight at the pier of Unn’s lake) do not respawn once killed. And it’s definitely not that Ghost killed them that counts: Traitor Lord dies whether Ghost fights him solo or whether Cloth is brought along, in which case she always gets the final blow. This creates the argument that the respawning generics are NOT in fact the same individuals reanimated over and over, but different individuals of the same enemy class, and that their different respawn rates speak to how plentiful those creatures are - small animals respawning faster because a new one will arrive in the recently killed one’s territory sooner, for instance.

Ghost and the Hunter both seem to assume that infected enemies are all undead - many creatures are identified as “husks” or “the remains of [whatever specific bug]” in the Hunter's Journal. But we’ve already established that sometimes Ghost and the Hunter are wrong.

So, if infected creatures aren’t undead, then what are they?

SOURCES:

* I find it a very interesting tidbit of characterization for Ghost that they refer to Radiance as the Light, as native bugs do, rather than calling her the Old Light, as Hallownest bugs did. This has some fascinating implications for where Ghost feels their allegiances to be, but that's neither here nor there right now lol.

** “Ohhh... please... don’t leave me behind! You... forgot about me...? I knew you would... everyone always forgets about me...” - Bretta’s dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

*** “...Shining figure...So bright...” - Bretta’s Dream Nail dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

**** “...ugghh, Oro you oaf.... You wield your nail... like a club... ...Esmy... how much deeper do we have to go... Oh! What?! Who are you?! ...I see. This old village. What a strange dream, to have led me down here! If you hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would’ve ever woken.” - Sly’s dialogue, Crossroads village encounter

WHAT

In a move very on-brand for Hollow Knight, there’s actually a line from Seer that gives the whole game away - and I mean this incredibly literally, she declares her loyalty to Radiance and says Fuck Hallownest and also hints at what she hopes for from Ghost all in two breaths!! - except that most players are never going to see this line because Seer only says this if you screw up platforming in the Forgotten Dream and yeet yourself off a platform before picking up the Dream Nail.

I do not doubt that I could wring a whole essay out of this one line by itself (and Seer deserves an essay from me so maybe I will), but today the part we’re concerned with is the third line of this dialogue, i.e. how she describes the Dream Nail to Ghost: “The power to wake this world from its slumber[.]”

Its slumber.

The Infection doesn’t only spread through dreams. It is a dream.

To put it in a more meta/video game mechanics sort of way, the Infection is a status ailment. Sleep exists as a common status ailment in RPGs, strategy games, and even some adventure games and platformers. Usually the status ailment of sleep is a mild nuisance that wears off after time, when a character is struck, or if the requisite curative is used; in comparison the Infection is Sleep But Bass Boosted. Appropriate, for a glorified status ailment that’s inflicted by the literal actual god of dreams.

The Infection can only be cured in the very early stages. Once an infected creature has fallen into a coma, there’s no longer any hope of a third party breaking the curse... and also, infected creatures sleepwalk. Violently.

This may also provide an explanation for why mummified bugs in the catacombs have been infected, too: If they were freshly dead and their lingering spirit was still attached enough to their corpses, and that lingering spirit retained enough of a mind to dream...

Aside from those mummified bugs, though, I believe it likely that most if not all of the infected enemies in-game are very, very much alive.

Beyond all the dialogue and lore crumbs pointing to the Infection simply being a cursed sleep, this explanation makes the most sense when thinking about Radiance as a character. She is the literal embodiment of dreams as well as the sun, so inflicting eternal slumber with bonus malignant sleepwalking is a natural extension of her power and a way to use it offensively without being directly violent.

(I've written about this at length elsewhere, but signs point to Radiance having been a pacifist prior to the Pale King’s invasion. Short version: The Moth Tribe were pacifists and Radiance was the center of their culture so it would be odd if she were an exception; she is incapable of inflicting any physical harm whatsoever in a game where lack of contact damage from an active enemy indicates helplessness and such enemies always flee from Ghost unless they have a tool they can use to fight with; her behavior in her boss battles indicates a lack of combat experience, and her nail-generating spells seem to be based on Hollow’s abilities. Real-life adult moths cannot fight - they defend themselves with flight, camouflage, mimicry, and I’m Poisonous So Fuck Off coloring.)

Now, I don’t want to downplay the harm the Infection causes - it doesn’t have to turn bugs into literal undead zombies to be devastating. What we can glean of Hallownest’s ruins suggests that as a state it was heavily dependent on labor to run its industry, so incapacitating the laborers would have turned the whole country on its head, especially because those laborers cannot be woken. The Infection also created an intense atmosphere of terror throughout Hallownest as bugs tried to discover ways to cure it or at least protect themselves. And as the Hunter observes,* because of how the Infection is caused, the harder you try to block Radiance out, the worse the Infection will get.

(A sidebar: Interestingly, the Infection's progress seems to be very slow when a creature willingly accepts it; Moss Prophet has Infection tumors when met but doesn’t die of them until the Crossroads is infected, though many Crossroads bugs are found dead of tumors immediately. Traitor Lord and his followers opted in to the Infection long ago, but Traitor Lord is still at the “orange fog” stage and could theoretically be cured, if he wanted to be. Both Traitor Lord and Moss Prophet are still completely lucid, too.)

Radiance may not have committed any direct violence against Hallownest, but the Infection does incite violence: infected creatures become hostile to and will attack the uninfected. And as we’ve discussed, the Infection itself can become fatal once it’s progressed far enough for tumorous growths to form.

A god smiting the shit out of her people’s oppressors by nonviolently but thoroughly disrupting their kingdom, Especially if that kingdom is a genocidal colonialist slave state,** as a Let My People Go And Leave Me Alone :) ultimatum is not unreasonable. (And Moss Prophet tells us point-blank that literally just listening to Radiance in the first place would have prevented the Infection before it began!) But despite that Hallownest as an institution is unambiguously awful, Hallownest bugs victimized by their own state (such as the maggot slaves and other menial workers) probably saw much less benefit from Hallownest’s genocides than the rich and nobility, and likely deserved the smiting way less than said rich and nobility.

Meanwhile Hallownest’s neighbors - all native nations who are just as much victims of TPK’s bullshit as the Moth Tribe - did not deserve to get caught up in the smiting at all.

Lateral harm in Hollow Knight is another topic that deserves its own essay - and more than that, lots of in-depth conversation! - but, again, that’s not the topic we want to focus on today. I do want to make it clear, though, that infected creatures being alive and theoretically wakeable if the curse should end doesn’t suddenly mean the Infection was actually no big deal. If you want your jimmies rustled, try Dream Nailing enemies that pull from the generic Dream Nail dialogue pool: They are on some level aware that they’re dreaming and can’t wake.***

Clues that the Infection is literally a dream are littered all over the game, from Elderbug’s initial dialogue**** to the name of ending 3, Dream No More - not only named that because that’s the ending where Ghost sacrifices Radiance’s life as well as their own to end Hollow’s suffering rather than only sacrificing their freedom.

Some of what Bardoon and Moss Prophet have to say about the Infection is suggestive of the nature of this dream, though. Moss Prophet appeals to their audience to find unity through the Infection,***** and Bardoon also remarks on this, though he cautions that this comes at the cost of being reduced to instinct.****** Dreaming does tend to come hand in hand with lack of inhibition and suggestibility, but I’m more interested in what Moss Prophet and Bardoon mean by unity, since infected creatures’ thoughts are different depending on what they are and what they were already doing while awake.

There's less specific hard evidence for this aside from how we can observe that Infection blobs are connected to Radiance, transmitting her heartbeat and birthing the Lightseeds, her unintended creations. But given that those blobs do originate from Infection fluid according to the Hunter... Radiance is not just the embodiment of dreams but the heart of THE Dream. So could the Infection be a forcible pseudo-immersion into that capital-D Dream, the Dream Realm itself?

Whether my hunch here is right or not, I can’t in good faith end this essay without bringing all y’all’s attention to absolutely my favorite bit of The Infection Is A Dream foreshadowing: The way multiple parties mention the fact that the Infection smells and tastes sweet.*******

You know... it’s sweet... it’s a sweet dream... get it.........

And now that you can no longer unsee that brilliantly awful pun, I think I'll see myself out!

SOURCES:

* “The infection that swept through Hallownest so long ago... they say that the harder you struggled against it, the more it consumed you.” - Hunter’s commentary, Slobbering Husk Hunter’s Journal entry.

** I’m referring, of course, to the maggots. See: “Weakest members of the kingdom of Hallownest. Generally looked down upon and forced to do menial labour.” (Ghost’s commentary) and “If they try to bargain for their life, just ignore them. They have nothing to offer.” (Hunter’s commentary) from the Maggot Hunter's Journal entry as well as False Knight/Failed Champion’s backstory. Remember also that maggots are the larval form of flies like Sly (you’ll see the resemblance if you compare Sly’s features to the maggot siblings’), meaning Hallownest employs child slavery. In more cheerful news Sly’s backstory must be absolutely goddamn wild.

*** “I’m not...Dead..” “Am I...Sleeping?” “I can’t....Wake up...” - Dream Nail dialogue from generic Hallownest bugs (Wandering Husk, Leaping Husk, Horned Husk, Husk Bully, Husk Warrior) and from God Tamer for some reason

**** “Perhaps dreams aren't such great things after all...” - Elderbug’s initial dialogue

***** “Embrace light! Achieve union!” - Moss Prophet’s dialogue

****** “Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm’s attempt at order. I resist the light’s allure. Union it may offer, but also a mind bereft of thought... To instinct alone a bug is reduced...Hrrm...” - Bardoon’s dialogue (Listen four times, not counting other dialogue flags)

******* “A thick orange mist fills these walking corpses. It has a sweet, sickly taste to it. I find it foul. After you kill these creatures, I suggest you do not eat them.” - Hunter’s commentary, Husk Bully Hunter’s Journal entry, just for one example.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #long post under cut -#essay

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maddiviner · 3 years

Text

It’s time for some juicy cryptid gossip!

Everyone has heard of Bigfoot, but what is it, really? A flesh and blood ape, or something even weirder? Today, we’ll be looking at Bigfoot and related concepts.

I wanted to interview Bigfoot himself, but ultimately decided it would be easier and less dangerous just to interview noted Fortean author Josh Cutchin.

Cutchin’s new two-part book series, Where the Footprints End focuses on Bigfoot and some of the weirder phenomena that tend to pop up surrounding this strange and hypothetical critter. This interview features discussion of Bigfoot as well as other interesting phenomena, usually known under the collective heading of High Strangeness...

Eliza: “There’s a lot of people who read my blog and other esoteric sites who really want to experience High Strangeness. There’s running jokes about going out into the forest wearing a red coat and picking berries in mysterious areas, in an attempt to encounter something. Mostly, this is just a joke, but a few people are quite serious about wanting to experience an encounter. Do you believe it is possible (or advisable) to go looking for that kind of encounter?”

Josh Cutchin: “It’s absolutely possible to seek these things out, and probably easier than a lot of us imagine. There are a few different approaches, mostly seeking out locales or altered states of consciousness. A good week’s worth of overnight stays at any ‘haunted’ location will probably yield some good stories, at the very least… then there’re occult disciplines, which I won’t delve into, that seem to have pretty striking results. While not necessarily endorsing it, a healthy dose of psychedelics will induce an altered state of consciousness as well, one which may have residual paranormal effects beyond whatever you encounter on your ‘trip.’

Advisable? That’s another topic entirely. Jeff Ritzmann—who sadly passed away a few days ago—had a method he viewed as successful for contacting the paranormal, but also highly volatile. On its simplest level, his technique involved meditating in any semi-isolated location (you can learn more from his November 2017 interview on Greg Bishop’s Radio Misterioso). Jeff always stressed two things: one, that the contact would come in whatever form you didn’t expect; and two, that this Other, whatever it is, wants that which is stable in your life, that which you value, and you should be prepared to lose relationships, finances, even loved ones.

It’s a sobering proposition.”

Eliza: “In the book, you talk about lures for Bigfoot. You mention that some people leave out gifts for him, often with disastrous consequences. As you mention in many of your books (A Trojan Feast, Thieves in the Night), giving gifts to these sort of entities seems to have a lot of significance and unintended results. What do you think is the root of the gifting fascination with these critters, regardless of what they are?”

Josh Cutchin: “If I had to hazard a guess, it all ties back to man’s earliest attempts to appeal to divine intervention, of burnt offerings and sacrifices. Offering consumables—food, drink, tobacco, et cetera—is a universally-held means of breaching whatever barrier separates us from the gods, the dead, and the spirit world. A direct line of belief can be traced from these older practices to things all of us do, even those not involved in the paranormal… take, for example, leaving cookies out for Santa Claus, or ‘pouring one out’ for a dead friend.”

Eliza: “Do you think that the various phenomenon described in your book, from the classical Bigfoot sightings, to the strange lights, and voices heard in the wilderness could all have the same cause? Or, do you hold the view that we’re dealing with different things that coincide?”

Josh Cutchin: “Some days, I think these topics are separate but overlap in significant ways. Others, I’m convinced they’re all the same thing, wearing different masks. My coauthor Timothy Renner said it elegantly: ‘Bigfoot may be the rarest and most sophisticated version of whatever this phenomenon is.’ I might take that one step further and posit anomalous lights—which are found in every paranormal topic—are the most common, simplest version of whatever the phenomenon is. Truth be told, that may be as close to ‘an answer’ as we get.”

Eliza: “From your books, I learned the difference between the usual “flesh and blood hypothesis” (F&BH) about Bigfoot, versus other perspectives. For readers who are unaware, there’s something of a debate whether Bigfoot is a physical animal, or… something else. Throughout both book, though, I couldn’t help but feel that you believe the evidence points away from F&BH. Would that be accurate to say?”

Josh Cutchin: “I’ve often said that every other discipline of paranormal study has ‘Bigfoot Envy,’ that there is more physical evidence for the existence of bigfoot than anything else in the paranormal. We have immaculately detailed footprints, alleged hair, blood, even droppings. All of it points firmly to a large, undiscovered primate…

… until you start listening to eyewitness accounts. Not every time, but certainly a lot of times there are anomalies that cannot be accounted for from a Materialist/Physicalist perspective, no matter how hard one works backwards from their preferred conclusion. Even some cases cryptozoologists like to cite as supporting the F&BH (like the Fred Beck ‘Ape Canyon’ events) contain outliers like poltergeist activity, abruptly ending trackways, et cetera. The supernatural seems at odds with the physical evidence until one considers that things like psi effects and ghosts—two phenomena we would all agree, if they exist, are intangible—can leave physical changes on our world.

If bigfoot are indeed flesh-and-blood creatures, they are, as Timothy says, ‘masters of evolution,’ with several abilities no other creature on Earth possesses!”

Eliza: “I enjoyed reading the accounts in the second volume of Where the Footprints End, but found much of it unsettling. Do you think that fear is a normal human reaction to High Strangeness, or something more related to existing societal views? I ask this because there’s been some debate amongst my friends about this. Also, many of my readers pride themselves in being comfortable with all kinds of strange things, but that might not well be the initial reaction in many cases.”

Josh Cutchin: “I think it’s probably like swimming with sharks. It’s natural to be terrified of one. Doesn’t mean it’ll harm you (though it certainly could). It’s a natural reaction, and it exists for a reason, for self-preservation. Over time you can desensitize yourself from that fear, maybe even handle the darn things… but there’s always a risk it could hurt or kill you.

I think the shark metaphor is apt, because—while there are undoubtedly a lot of evilly-aligned forces out there—I think most paranormal things are neutral, maybe even disinterested in us, but dangerous by nature. Like sharks!”

Eliza: “Can you imagine a time, in the the future, perhaps, when these sort of things are, in fact, understood by humanity? Do you think we’ll ever figure it out, so to speak? Someday, will Bigfoot and other High Strangeness phenomenon be explainable? Or, perhaps, are these things always going to elude us in their exact nature?

Josh Cutchin: “I think there’s the chance they’ll be accepted, but never understood. I think we’re already on the road to accepting the existence of the paranormal (or, should I more accurately say, re-accepting, since we obviously respected them in our past). But I think the ‘understanding’ part is why they’ve always seemed mysterious, and I think that may well be the part. The paranormal is a birthright for every human being, and an important component of our existence… but we were never meant to understand it. Not in the plane of existence, at least.”

Thanks so much for this interview, Josh! Your work is thought-provoking and as fascinating as it is unsettling!

I think I speak for everyone when I say that this interview helped me to understand High Strangeness and how it relates to other paranormal topics. If you’ve got an interest in the paranormal or High Strangeness, I definitely recommend checking out Cutchin’s books here.

Both volumes of Where the Footprints End are now available in ebook and print. Cutchin has also written books on other, non-Bigfoot aspects of these phenomena. These include Thieves in the Night, a look at supernatural abduction legends, Trojan Feast (about food in High Strangeness encounters) and The Brimstone Deceit (focused on scents and the paranormal).

So, thoughts, everyone? Have you experienced High Strangeness in your lifetime? Do you WANT to experience it? Does it frighten you? My views are mixed...

#witchblr #cryptid #cryptidcore #bigfoot #aliens #faerie #occult #paranormal #high strangeness #eliza.txt #eliza reads #fae #fairy #fairyland #ufo #extraterrestrial #encounters

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aaliyah-babe · 3 years

Text

The One With The Butt: Part One

pairings: eventual joey x reader, jamie x reader

authors note: i own nothing from friends, all credit goes to their respective owners. feedback is always appreciated!

feedback is the glue that holds my writing together!

you guys had gotten invited to the play that joey was in, you were sat next to pheobe on the end,

“oh look! look, there’s joeys picture! this is so exciting!” rachel squealed, showing you all joeys picture.

“you can always spot who’s never seen one of his plays before, notice no fear, no sense of impending doom...” chandler trailed off,

“the exclamation point in the titles scares me. you know, it’s not just freud, it’s freud!” pheobe exclaims, and you giggle at her.

the lights went down as you readied yourself for joeys plays, they weren’t all bad, but they weren’t all good, don’t get yourself wrong he was a good actor, he just chose the wrong stuff to act in.

“shh. the magic is about to happen!” ross shushed everyone

“well, eva,” you heard joey say with a german accent and you sighed, knowing it was gonna be another bust. “we’ve done some excellent work here,”

you looked at pheobe and she gave you the same look before you started giggling quietly, and ross gave you a warning look which made you stop.

“and i would have to say your problem is quite clear,” joey said before stopping. a piano intro started playing before joey got up from his seat and began singing, “all you want is a dinkle, what you envy’s a schwang! a thing through which you can tinkle, or play with or simply let hang,”

you looked at ross before whispering, “now can we laugh,” and he started chuckling aswell.

the play went on for what felt like hours, you had looked through the cast around five times, pheobe nudging you to look at joeys dancing and singing at times which made you both laugh quietly, before the show was finished.

everybody on the stage took a bow before you all got up and started clapping, yelling at the cast,

“yes! excellent!”

they walked off the stage as you all groaned, sitting back down,

“oh my god, that was nauseating,” you sighed into pheobes shoulder,

“i feel violated,” rachel agreed,

“did anybody else feel like they wanted to peel the skin off their body to have something else to do?” monica asked,

“ross, 10:00,” chandler nudged ross,

“i’d it? feels like 2:00,” ross groaned,

“no, 10:00,”

“what?”

“there’s a beautiful woman at 8, 9, 10:00!” chandler sighed which made you all look in his direction and see a very beautiful woman touching up her lipstick.

“wow she is pretty,” you agreed with chandler,

“she’s amazing! she makes the women i dream about look like short, fat, bald men,”

“well, go over to her. she’s not with anyone,” monica said to him,

“oh yeah, right. and what would my opening line be? “excuse me..” chandler said before blubbering words,

“oh come on! she’s a person, you can do it,” rachel encouraged,

“oh please could she be more out of my league? ross back me up here,” chandler patted ross on the back,

“he could never get a woman like that in a million years,” ross agreed,

“thank you,”

“oh, oh! but you know you always see these really beautiful women with these really nothing guys, you could be one of those guys!” pheobe encouraged him,

“oh yeah! come on chandler, do it!” you told him.

“you think?” he asked you all,

“oh yeah!”

“oh, god. i cant believe i’m even considering this. i’m very, very aware of my tongue,”

“come on!”

“here it goes,” chandler walked away and started talking to the woman,

he started saying a few things before he started walking back over,

“chandler?” the woman asked, making him go back over,

“wow, go chandler,” you nudged monica.

joey walked out and you all said hey.

“i didn’t know you could dance!” ross said,

everybody else said stuff to him about the play,

“was it good?” he asked, hopeful. your heart hurt for the boy.

everybody was silent before they all said the same things they did before.

“come on you guys, it wasn’t that bad, i was the lead! it was better than that thing with the trolls!” he argues,

“you’re right joey, you are, come here,” you hugged him,

“did you at least like it?” he asked, still hopeful,

“i’m not gonna lie to you joe. it wasn’t the best play,” his face fell, “but! you’re a good actor i just think your always going for the wrong roles!” you said and he smiled a little,

“thanks y/n/n,” he hugged you again, before letting you go not completely and just let his arm drape around your shoulder.

“she said yes! she said yes!” chandler ran over before turning to joey, “awful play man! woah!”

you rubbed joeys back, feeling bad for him a little.

“her names aurora and she’s italian and she pronounces my name “chand-ler,” “chand-ler,” he was proud of himself you could see, “i think i like it better that way- oh listen! the usher gave me this to give to you.” he gave joey a card.

“what is it?” rachel asked,

joey read the card as his face lit up, “estelle leonard talent agency, an agency left me its card!” he smiled,

“told you,” you whispered to him and he smiled at you.

“maybe they want to sign me!” he smiled happily,

“based on this play?” pheobe asked and joey frowned, “based on this play!”

you guys were hanging out at the coffee house and jamie had joined you, and once again joey distanced himself from you and him. what the hell was his problem? it pissed you off that your bestfriend clearly didn’t like your boyfriend and didn’t even try to hide it!

“hey, kids,” chandler walked in, after his date with aurora.

“hey, chandler,” jamie said to him,

“well this line is passion, and this is just a line,” phoebe read monica’s hand,

“wow i can’t believe i’ve been here seven seconds and you haven’t asked me about my date,” chandler said,

“how was your date chandler?” everybody asked,

“yeah, chand-ler?” monica said, making you smile.

“it was unbelievable! i’ve never met anyone like her. she’s had the most amazing life! she was in the israeli army...”

“luckily, none of the bullets hit the engine block. so, we made it to the border. but just barely and i... i’ve been talking about myself all night long, i’m sorry. what about you? tell me one of your stories!” aurora said to chandler, who smiled at the woman in front of him.

“alright, once.... once, i got on the subway, right? and it was at night and i rode it all the way to brooklyn, just for the hell of it,” he said which made aurora laugh and he smiled again,

“we talked till like 2:00,” chandler said, “it was this perfect evening... more or less,”

“all of the sudden we realise we’re in yemen!” aurora exclaims,

“i’m sorry we is?” chandler asked,

“we would be me and rick,” she answered,

“who’s rick?” joey asked,

“who’s rick?” chandler asked her,

“my husband,” she answered.

“ew,” everyone groaned for chandler,

“oh, so your divorced?” chandler asked,

“no,” she said,

“oh, i’m- i’m sorry your widowed... hopefully?” he asked again,

“no, i’m still married.”

“so uh, tell me. how do you think your husband would feel about you sitting here with me, sliding your foot so far up my pant leg you can count the change in my pocket?”

“don’t worry. i imagine he’d be okay with you because really with ethan,” she giggled,

“ethan? there’s an ethan?” chandler asked,

“ethan is my... boyfriend,” she answered

“what?!” everyone exclaimed.

“explain something to me. what kind of relationship do you imagine us having if you already have a husband and a boyfriend?” chandler asked,

“i suppose, mainly sexual,” she offers.

“huh,”

“aw, i’m sorry it didn’t work out,” monica apologised,

“what not work out? i’m seeing her again on thursday,” everyone looked at him confused, “didn’t you listen to the story?”

“didn’t you listen to the story?” you asked,

“yeah, this is twisted! how could you get involved with a woman like this?” monica asked,

“i had some trouble with it at first too, but the way i look at it, i get all of the good stuff, all the fun, all the talking, all the sex and none of the responsibility! i mean this is every guys fantasy,”

“that is not true,” phoebe said, “ross, jamie, is this your fantasy?”

“no,” they both said,

you smiled at your boyfriend before kissing his cheek, he looked at ross before they both nodded their heads, “yeah, it is,”

you glared at jamie.

“maybe somebody shouldn’t be with somebody then,” joey muttered but you heard him anyways, what is his deal? you were so going to talk to him after this.

“so you guys don’t mind going out with someone else, who’s going out with someone else?” monica asks.

“i couldn’t do it,” joey says,

“good for you, joe,” pheobe says to him,

“when i’m with a woman, i need to know that i’m going out with more people than she is,” that made you sigh,

“well, you know monogamy can be a tricky concept. i mean anthropologically speaking...” everybody pretended to sleep and fake snore as ross bored everyone,

“fine, fine. now you’ll never know,” he sighs,

“we’re kidding, go! tell us,” monica says,

“all right, there’s a theory put forth by richard leakey...” and there goes everybody snoring again,

let me know if you want to be mentioned in future taglists!

taglist: @zestygingergirl

#chandler bing #friends #friends series #joey tribbiani #monica geller #pheobe buffay #rachel green #ross geller #x reader #funny

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natsubeatsrock · 3 years

Text

Should Hiro Mashima die?

My answer is no.

Though, this isn't about actually killing Hiro Mashima. Kinda got you with the title, though, huh? (This was originally going to be titled “Is Hiro Mashima dead?” and released on his birthday. You’re welcome.)

This post is about a widely debated topic of analysis known as the "death of the author." I've talked about this a few different times in passing in a few posts over the years. You could argue that this belongs in my series rewriting Fairy Tail and I considered placing it there. However, I feel that it's better that I keep this detached from that series. This topic concerns criticism of any series. Naturally, being a Fairy Tail blog, I plan on engaging this with the context of Fairy Tail's author being dead or not, hence the title. Still, this is helpful to think about for analysis of plenty of other series.

Again, though, my answer is still no.

Let's start with the origin of this term. The term comes from an essay by Roland Barthes called "La mort de l'auteur". Use your best guess as to what that translates to. I highly encourage you to read the essay as it's pretty short. It's about six or seven pages, depending on the version. There are three main points to his essay.

Creative works are products of the culture they come from and less original than people expect.

The idea of the author as the sole creator and authority of creative works is fairly modern.

The author's interpretation of a work shouldn't be considered the main or only interpretation of a work.

Of these three points, I'm sure you recognize the last point. But first, I want to talk about the other points. I believe it is important to understand the arguments being made as a whole.

The first point should be fairly uncontroversial. The vast majority of creative works use established language, tropes, and elements to create a new thing. I wouldn't go as far as Barthes does in this regard. Not to mention, this is somewhat weird to know considering his third point. However, I agree that creative works should be considered products of the culture and genre they come from.

The second point is a bit trickier for me. To be clear, the point is true. You only have to look at various cultural mythologies as an example. There isn't a single version of the Greek myths. There are several versions and interpretations of the various stories and myths.

Even recent popular fictional characters have had several different interpretations. This is especially true with comics. There have been multiple different Batman interpretations, Spiderman runs, and X-Men teams that fans love. Fans even love and appreciate numerous forms of established characters like Frankenstein's monster and Sherlock Holmes. So, as a consumer and critic of art, I can understand this.

My problem is as a creator of art. I understand this being contentious when it comes to something like religious myths. But, if I create something, I want to get the credit for it. I want people to love my music or writing. But I also want people to recognize me for my skill in crafting it.

This is true even if you hold to the first point Barthes made. Even if you believe that no art is truly unique, isn't the skill of synthesizing the various tropes and influences around a person worthy of credit in and of itself?

Then again, I am not without bias in this. Barthes says that the modern interpretation of the author is a product of the Protestant Reformation. As a Protestant myself, I get that my background plays no part in my view of this. Barthes also blames English empiricism and French rationalism, but personal faith is the biggest influence on me that Barthes lists.

That being said, there's also something Barthes completely misses in his essay. In the past, stories were passed down by oral tradition. As the stories were passed down from generation to generation, they slowly evolved and became what they are known today. Scholars today can gather a general consensus of what a story was meant to be and some traditions were more faithful about passing traditions down than others. However, you can't always tell the original author of a mythological story the same way we know who gave us stuff like the Quran or the Bible.

As time passed, stories were written down. With this, it was easy to share single versions of a story and identify its creator. We know who made certain writing of works even before the 1500s. For example, we have the Travels of Marco Polo and Dante's Inferno and know their authors. We could tell the authors of works were before the Protestant Reformation.

By the way, the Reformation happened to coincide with one of the most important inventions in human history: the printing press. Now you can easily make copies of an individual's works and you don't have to rely on word of mouth to share stories.

I can't stress how important an omission this is. The printing press changed the way we interact with media as a whole and might be the most important invention on this side of the wheel. And yet Barthes doesn't even mention as even a potential factor in "the modern concept of the author"? In his essay about understanding written media? That’s like ignoring Jim Crow in your essay about Birth of a Nation bringing back the KKK.

Now, we get to the final point. The author's original intentions of their works are not the main interpretation. This is understood as being the case after they create the series. Once the work is written and sent into the public, they cease to be an authority on it.

It's worth recognizing how this flows from the other two points. Barthes argued that works of fiction are products of their culture and our current understanding of an author is fairly modern. Therefore, the interpretation of the reader is just as valuable as that of the author. As Barthes himself wrote, "the birth of the reader must be at cost of the death of the author."

At best, this means that a reader can come away with an interpretation of a work that isn't the one intended. With Fairy Tail, my mind goes to the final moments of the Grand Magic Games. My view of Gray's line "I've got to smile for her sake" has to do with romantic feelings for Ultear. I don't know of a single person who agrees with this. Mashima certainly hasn't come out and affirmed this as the right view.

It's good to recognize that a work can have more meanings behind it than the ones intended by its creator. Part of the performing process is coming to a personal interpretation of a work. In many cases, two different performances will have different interpretations of the same work, neither of which went through the creator's mind. At the same time, both work and are valid.

That being said, there is an obvious problem with this: readers are idiots. Not all readers are necessarily idiots. But enough of them are idiots. The views of idiots should have as much weight as that of the creator. Full stop. Frankly, I maintain that idiots are the worst possible sources to gauge anything of note. (At the very least, policy decisions.)

I know this as a reader who has not been alone in misunderstanding a work. I know this as an analyst who has had to sift through all kinds of cold takes on Fairy Tail. (Takes that are proven wrong simply by going through it a second time. Or a first.) And I definitely know this as a creator who has to see people butcher my works through nonsensical "interpretations."

At the same time, the argument Barthes made comes with an important caveat. He also argued that works are the products of the culture and surroundings of the author. Barthes isn’t making the argument that author’s arguments don’t matter.

As far as I can tell, Barthes doesn't take this to mean that those influences are worth analyzing. Doing so would be giving life to the author. However, there should be some recognition that a creative work didn't come to exist out of nowhere. There's a sense in which Fairy Tail didn't just wash up on the shore chapter by chapter or episode by episode. It came to be as part of the culture it came from.

Now, you'll never guess what happened. Over the years, the concept of "death of the author" lost its original intent. Nowadays, people usually only care about the third point. "Death of the author" is only brought up to dismiss "word of God" explanations of work, after its release. I'd venture to guess that most people using the term casually don't know anything about its roots. I honestly don't know how Barthes would feel about this.

I can understand what might fuel this view. A writer should do their best to write their intended meanings in a work. It would be wrong of a writer to make up for their poor writing after the fact. I don't love Mashima's "Lucy's dreams" explanation for omakes. I know Harry Potter fans don't love the stuff J.K. Rowling has said over the years.

At the same time, my (admittedly Protestant) understanding of "word of God" and "canon" is that they have the same authority. After all, the canon IS the word of God. It is a small section of what God has said, but it isn't less than that.

Of course, it's worth recognizing that nearly every writer we're talking about isn't even remotely divinely inspired or incapable of contradiction. This understanding should cut two ways. An author should never contradict their work in talking about it. Write what you want and make clear what you want to. On the other hand, writers can't fit everything they want to in a work. I'll get to this soon, but their interpretation should be treated with some value.

By the way, people will do this while throwing out the other arguments made by Barthes in the same essay. People will outright ignore the culture and context that a work comes from in order to justify their views. Creators are worshiped and praised for their works or seen as the sole problem for the bad views on works.

What worries me most about this modern interpretation of "the death of the author" is its use in fan analysis. People seem to outright not care about the author's intent in writing a story. They only care about their own interpretation of the work. Worse still, people will insist that any explanation an author gives is them covering up their mistakes. Naturally, this often leads to negative views of the work in question.

This is just something I'll never fully understand. It's one thing if you don't like something. If you don't get why something happened, shouldn't your first move be to figure out what the author was thinking? Instead, people move to the idea that it makes no sense and the writer's a hack.

If all of this seems too heady, let's try to bring this down to earth. Should Hiro Mashima die so that his readers can be born?

Hiro Mashima is one of many mangakas who were influenced by Akira and Dragon Ball. He considers J.R.R. Tolkien to be one of his favorite writers. Monster Hunter is one of his favorite game series. He's even written a manga series with the world in mind.

It would make sense to look at Fairy Tail purely through this lens. You could see Fairy Tail as a shonen action guild story. Rather than seeing the guild as a hub for its members, Fairy Tail's members treat those within it as family. Rather than focusing on one overarching quest, the story is about how various smaller quests relating to its main characters threaten their guild. Adopting this view wouldn't necessarily be an incorrect way to engage with the series. (Mind you, I haven’t seen this view shared by many people who “kill Mashima”.)

Though, there's more to Fairy Tail than the various tropes that make it up. If you were to divorce Fairy Tail entirely from its creator, you'd miss out on understanding them. There are ways Mashima has written bits of himself into the series. Things that go farther than Rave Master cameos and references.

My favorite example is motion sickness. I often think back to Craftsdwarf mocking motion sickness as a useless quirk Dragon Slayers have. It turns out that its origin comes from his personal life. Apparently, one of his friends gets motion sickness. He decided to write this as part of his world.

This gets to the biggest reason I don't love "death of the author" as a framework for analysis. I believe the biggest question analysts should answer is why. Why did an author make certain decisions? You can't do this kind of thing well if you shut out the author's interpretation of their own work. Maybe that can work for some things, but not everything.

I've had tons of fun going through Fairy Tail and talking about it over the past seven years. More recently, I've been going through the series with the intent to rewrite the series. I've made it clear multiple times in that series that I'm trying to understand and explain Mashima's decisions in the series. I don't always agree with what I find. However, trying to understand what happened in Fairy Tail is very important to me.

It's gotten to the point that I love interacting with Mashima's writing. I talk about EZ on my main blog. I can't tell you how much fun I've been having. I'll see things and go "man, that's so Mashima" or "wow, I didn't expect that from him." HERO'S was one of my favorite things of last year and I regularly revisit it for fun. It's the simplest microcosm of what makes each series which Mashima has made both similar and distinct.

Barthes was on to something with his essay. I think there should be a sense where people should feel that their views of the media they consume are valid. This should be true even if we disagree with the author's views on the series. But I don't know that the solution is to treat the author's word on their own work as irrelevant.

There's a sense where I think we should mesh the understandings of media engagement. We recognize that Mashima wrote Fairy Tail. There are reasons that he wrote the series as we got it and they're worth knowing and understanding. However, our own interpretation of the series doesn't have to be exactly what Mashima intended. We can even disagree with how Mashima did things.

I know fans who do this all the time. They love whatever series they follow, but wish things happened differently. Fans of Your Lie in April will joke about [situation redacted] as well as write stories where it never happens. You love a series, warts and all, but wish for the series to get cosmetic surgery, or take matters into your own hands.

And who knows? It's not as if fans haven't affected an author's writing of a series. Mashima's the perfect example. I've said this a few times before, but Fairy Tail has gone well past its original end at Phantom Lord (or Daphne for the anime fans). Levy rose to importance as fans wanted to see more of her.

Could Mashima have done that if we killed him?

Before the conclusion, I should mention another way “death of the author“ comes up. People will invoke “death of the author“ to encourage people to enjoy works they love made by messed up people. Given everything we’ve said up to this point, that’s obviously not what should be intended by its use. For now, though, I do think that we can admit that we like the works of someone even if we don’t agree with everything they did as a person. (Another rant for another day.)

In Conclusion:

“Death of the Author” is an imperfect concept, but it’s not without its points. I don’t think we should throw out the author’s intent behind a work. However, we should be able to have our disagreements with the author’s views without killing them.

#fairy tail #hiro mashima #death of the author #i'm back #and what a way to return #i've been meaning to do this forever #fav

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purplepalmdelight · 4 years

Text

why life is still okay (rambling fic rec pt. 1)

firstly: shout out to @trulyalpha for apparently owning my entire bookmarks page on ao3 (bc i only realised all my favourite fics were written by the same person,,, yesterday. bc im really smart like that) anyway breakdown of why she’s a stoncy saving grace thanks!!!

you ease my mind, you make everything feel fine.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842039)

yes this fic is from 2018. yes i read it every other week. it’s good for the SOUL. jonathan getting taken care of is always just such a good and sweet concept (maybe it’s my intense, undying love of him, but he deserves to be taken care okay) and. okay i’ll admit, sometimes i forget how fucking FUNNY this fic is, but it’s genuinely hilarious, okay? you gotta trust me on this. it makes me cackle at inappropriate times absurdly often. ("Hi." "Hi." "I want you, you fuck." is a top line. i laugh so hard every TIME.) all three of them are so incredibly in character, and somehow this NAILS the fact that they’re all massive disasters pretending to be confident. and i’m not someone that reads ~smut~ often (though it’s more mentioned than described, very non-explicit) but this didn’t make me even the least bit uncomfortable. it felt very natural and in character and made me laugh as much as the rest of the story. all in all, i always come away a little more in love with the characters, and that’s a really precious feeling.

you could be the one to make me feel something

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269476/chapters/32912745)

i take back everything i’ve ever claimed. this IS the funniest piece of writing i’ve ever read, and it WILL remain so, probably until the day i die. i honestly... barely have words. my expectations were high when i started it, but in retrospect, they were LEAGUES below what i got. the characterisation, the progression, the dialogue, the story; from the overarching aspects to the tiny details, it’s impeccable. i genuinely read this twice in one day, and then again the next. every single part of it is so good, but in terms of FAVOURITES... the christmas section. hilarious. down to its bones, well crafted and heart felt. it hits me right in the chest every time. the story, from the beginning, has me just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is, and as everything grows more intense, so does my investment. it pulls me in and doesn’t let me go until it’s good and ready to see me leave. again, the sexy aspects are so in character and natural that it’s uncomfortable or weird to read and instead just leave me grinning like an idiot. also ( “It did frustrate me, in more ways than one. It’s also a weird plan, like … did you expect me to be so overwhelmed by the power of a boner that I’d just admit my feelings?” is SUCH a funny line, i think about it literally every day. literally. every. day.) the characters are afraid to be messy, to make mistakes, and they all feel so ALIVE that when i leave the story, i feel like i’m leaving a friend. it’s honestly beautiful and honestly breathtaking. this story is better than a lot of published books, honestly, and i’m so grateful for it. so thank you.

i crash my car ‘cause i wanna get carried away!

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131202)

...you really wanted to make me cry, huh? i cried out of grief, yeah, out of the depth of nancy’s guilt and the pure rawness of her mourning, but i also cried out of catharsis as she came to terms, and out of laughter a few times. the bit about total eclipse of the heart as a motif was... that was so well done. i hate drawing comparisons, so please understand that this is criticism of a concept and not a particular story, but in so many stories then nancy’s grief feels... trivialised? that’s not quite the right word. romanticised, maybe. as someone who has lost a friend in the past, it’s just... it doesn’t feel realistic? and that’s okay, because it’s hard to nail something you haven’t experienced, and i wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. it’s just that stories like this, where i can really resonate with nancy and follow the journey of her recovery WITH her are so rare. this story is a gem, it really is. i don’t love it for all the same reasons as the others, but i love it fiercely all the same.

there’s nothing magic going on, and then along came you

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994137)

sure, you could be the one is the funniest fic i’ll probably ever read, but nothing magic is such a close second. it’s laugh-out-loud, get-tears-in-your-eyes, fall-out-of-your-chair, and it’s also so goddamn SWEET i can hardly stand it. of the several fics i generally group together in my head (nothing magic, you could be the one + its sequels (might have to make an individual post about this series), laugh until we think we’ll die, and got nothing for you; all very similar, yet incredibly unique) nothing magic is the shortest, but that doesn’t mean it compromises on quality, oh no. it just means i can read it quicker, and therefore more often! when it’s late and i’m tired and i need a laugh to calm down before i sleep, i generally go search this fic up. remember when i mentioned the whole “being just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is” thing? it’s like that except... almost funnier. in you could be the one, it’s just that the story naturally tugs you into adoring these two messy, silly, sweet, amazing young adults, because how could you not? how else could you possibly feel? but here, they are genuinely just... that funny. they are actually just so funny that you as a reader click with them and find yourself grinning like an IDIOT because oh my god you’re disasters. maybe it’s the inherent relatability of a tired highschooler trying to make it through the summer and hating his job along the way, but this fic hits right in the heart every damn time.

got nothing for you other than love

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596658)

"You trust me," she says.

They both know it's a fact, not question, but he still says, "Of course."

and

By then, his shell wasn't something he could step out of. It was part of him. But that was okay. He didn't need more. What he had was enough.

He always did have trouble with wanting more.

and

"Hey, babe?" Nancy turns her head to look at Steve, touching his shoulder. "Can you buy me a drink?"

"Sure thing. What d'ya want?"

"Surprise me. Not like that time we were here and you snuck out the store, went to a smoothie stand, and came back with a mango smoothie."

Steve grins. "But I did surprise you."

and

"Do you have food in the backseat?"

"The sandwich has only been there for like, two weeks—"

and

"Ugh. Too much cheese. I'm lactose-intolerant, remember?"

"False, you're not intolerant of anyone except people over the age of fifteen with bowl cuts and guys who wear shorts in the winter."

and

"Where are you off to? I'm your only friend," Kali says, frowning.

and

"You good, man?"

"Yeah," he says, his throat dry, "I'm great."

"Yeah, you are," Nancy says, and he is. He is.

and i can’t continue because that’s, like, barely halfway into the fic and i’ve already skipped so many of my favourite lines and i would have to skip so many more. you see what i mean about sathana being funny as hell? and like all the others, it’s not just the humour here. i mean... it is, because it’s SO FUCKING FUNNY I LITERALLY CANNOT SAY THAT ENOUGH but the reason it’s so funny is because it’s so candid. it’s so smooth. the whole thing flows. you’re not left feeling that you’ve missed a piece or that anything was sacrificed; you just feel like you’ve read something incredible. this fic is an experience of its own that i honestly have never experienced before. it’s sweet, and it’s gentle, and it’s just so overwhelmingly good that i don’t think i’ll ever quite get over it. in short? it’s a blessing. my expectations were high, but holy fuck did you blow them to bits.

one more favourite line:

Things are ending, things are starting, and everything looks bright. It won't always be that way. The sun's got to set at some point. But, gazing up at the sky, at the pink bleeding into orange, Jonathan figures it'll have to rise again. No matter what happens, these two things are constant.

"Hey, you look awfully lonely," Nancy calls out, walking towards him, reaching out to him with the hand not in Steve's.

Well. Maybe not just those two things.

that scene, in general, is beautiful, and it wraps the story up on such a genuine note. it feels like a film with how clearly i can picture it. it feels like no fic i’ve ever really read before. it feels... good. i guess i don’t really have the words. it just feels so good.

as an overall statement on why i call her my favourite author... it’s the realism. maybe that’s surprising, considering how many times i said “funny” or “hilarious” in here, but in the end, i wouldn’t be so attached to her work if it didn’t feel so real. i can open a tab and instantly get transported to a home i’ve never lived in. it’s comfortable. it’s sweet. and the dialogue/banter is always perfectly crafted. there’s just never really a downside to her fics, honestly. even if i wanted to search, i don’t think i’d find one. not even one of those “their only problem is that there’s not more to enjoy” kind of comments, because every single one feels perfectly crafted in its own right. it doesn’t need more or less. it stands for itself and it’s goddamn good at it.

i didn’t anticipate having to do multiple parts on this post, but- surprise surprise- i haven’t even gotten to my favourite one yet! so yeah, pt. 2 will be written after i finish the history essay trying to murder me, god knows when that is. in the meantime, please go give her some love and adoration. she deserves it.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stoncy rights pls #stoncy #steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #fic rec #like HARD rec pls read #and if anyone who has read these fics wants to geek out w me....... come one and do it #sathana stans unite amirite

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goddamnelsa · 3 years

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Liz’s Top Books of 2020

blatantly stolen from @alamorn but also i wanted to feel accomplished that i did in fact read published books this year before descending entirely into mdzs/the untamed fanfiction :) :) :) :)

In two parts! Books I read that actually came out in 2020, and then honorable mentions of books I read in 2020 that were published in previous years. Enjoy!

Top Books Published in 2020 (which are not in any kind of order because I can’t like rank stuff, I’m not that kind of person)

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

What can I say except it’s N.K. Jemisin who wrote my favorite high fantasy series (The Inheritance Trilogy), won three consecutive Hugo Awards for her The Broken Earth trilogy, and she’s writing urban fantasy with Lovecraftian and superhero team flavor. I mean....obviously I was at the top of the wait list for this once my library ordered it. And it lived up to the hype!! Because of course!! It’s fabulously fast-paced with amazingly smart and interesting characters of diverse backgrounds. I kept thinking one of them was my favorite, and then another would have a great line and I would change my mind. It’s fine, they’re all technically one entity with several parts, so I can love them all and not choose (but it’s probably Bronca, let’s be real). And it’s the first of a series! And I’m counting down the days til there is more!

Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

I definitely picked this up simply because Lindsay Ellis, one of my favorite video essayists, wrote it, and then ended up loving everything about it. I’m not usually one for First Contact stories, but I appreciate the very human-focused approach here, sticking solely to an ordinary girl’s perspective as she navigates being the person first in contact with a very alien alien. Cora’s attempts to humanize Ampersand are relatable, but I appreciate Ellis reminding us at almost every turn that Ampersand is super Not Human, no matter how much Cora reads into his actions. Ellis doesn’t gloss over the Science part either, especially when it comes to the race of aliens Ampersand belongs to. Again, the first of a series, and you will absolutely be screaming for the next book when this one is over.

You Had Me At Hola by Alexis Daria

Insert my obligatory “I don’t usually read romances blah blah blah.” Though, during lockdown, I attempted to branch out beyond my usual genres when I was attending a ton of publisher webinars about upcoming books. This one stood out to me because of its Latinx cast and the whole behind-the-scenes of a Jane The Virgin-esque show, based on a telenovela (of course). It is fantastic, a quick read with instantly likable and fun characters. And the tropes! We’re playing love interests but we have insane chemistry! A sensitive, traumatized male lead who learns to open up again! A sassy but insecure female lead who learns to let loose and love again! Hooking up, but we have to keep on the DL or else scandal! And of course, the extended families add to every scene they are in--I loved every interaction Ashton and Jasmine had with their families, it was the cherry on top of a fantastic read. Also the sex scenes are steamy.

Beetle and the Hollowbones by Aliza Layne

I got this graphic novel as an advanced reader copy well before it came out, and after reading it, I was sCREAMING because I couldn’t tell all my graphic novel, queer coming-of-age-with-magic loving friends to immediately pick up a copy!! So thankfully, it’s out now, so I can scream to the heavens to please read this!!! It is such a sweet story with beautiful full-color art and fantastic world-building. It has the same silly, referential humor you see in a lot of kids/YA graphic novels these days, but Beetle packs in a lot of heart as well.

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

Like many people in May/June of this year, I was reading, reading, reading a lot of books about racism from as many Black authors as I could get my hands on. There were many not published this year that should definitely be read (So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo being among the top), but this book really stuck with me because it is written specifically for a younger audience, and Jason Reynolds knows how to talk to kids about tough subjects. Stamped gets across difficult concepts like assimilationists and segregationists in an easy-to-understand, conversational style that doesn’t take away from any of the important history and nuance. This certainly is not The Book of antiracism studies, but it is a good starting point if you are daunted by lengthy title lists and aren’t sure where to begin. I highly recommend the audiobook as well, read by Reynolds himself.

(Side note: I watched this keynote address with Reynolds and Kendi which is an excellent primer into the background of how this book came to be. Reynolds is also just very interesting to listen to)

Honorable Mentions aka Books I read in 2020 that were published in previous years again, not ranked because I CAN’T, OKAY

White Is For Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

I read this book and then wanted to go back and read it immediately again, not necessarily because it was so amazing, but because I felt like I would get it even more if I did. This is a haunting little book that took turns I was not expecting, even with the book synopsis I read. It is disturbing and features descriptions of an eating disorder, so proceed with caution. However, if you like Gothic tales of haunted houses and the trauma inflicted on us by those who came before, I can’t recommend this one enough.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

My last book club read before the pandemic D: We didn’t actually get to meet to discuss this book, but my club (all librarians) were working at our emergency call center at the same time and all reading it, so we KINDA got to discuss it, if not in a formal book club setting. ANYWAY, it’s a thrilling jaunt through 1920s Mexico, following a fantastic Cinderella-esque heroine who makes a deal with a Mayan god to retrieve his body. If you are a fan of the Percy Jackson-brand of mythological adventures, this is definitely one to add to your list, especially if you are looking for something a little bit more Adult.

Scary Stories for Young Foxes by Christian McKay Heidicker

Okay, I know it’s a young readers/middle grade book, but HEAR ME OUT. This is whimsical and haunting tale about seven little fox kits who set out to scare themselves shitless by hearing scary tales. Only one kit will remain when the night is over, but the one who does will get to hear a surprisingly sweet, and well-earned, happy ending. If you are a Neil Gaiman-esque horror fan, I recommend picking this up. Its scares are fairly scary, especially for its audience, but it’s an engaging story about the lengths we will go for the ones we love.

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse

Did someone say Navajo monster-hunting heroine with magic powers navigating a post-apocalyptic world, oh and also saving it??? Look, Maggie is My Kind of Hero, in that she’s damaged, she drinks too much, she’s surly, but she has a seriously gooey heart of gold underneath all that armor. Navajo mythology is woven into this tale of monster-hunting, surviving. If you’re in Supernatural-disappointment-land, maybe give this a try! It has that Western-y, road trip feel to it, and again, I love the lead character. (It also has a currently published sequel and a soon-to-be-released third book as well!)

This is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

This was rec’ed to me by a librarian friend, with the words, “Oh, Liz, you’ll really like this.” And she was RIGHT. Red and Blue are on opposite sides of a war waged across time and decide to send letters to each other, at first, to taunt, but then, to understand, to learn, and to love. The details of the war don’t matter much, but what does matter is the achingly beautiful poetry with which Red and Blue reveal themselves to each other. I was told to listen to this one, but I’m glad I read it myself instead. The prose is very purple at times, and I appreciated being able to go back to passages to reread again and again. Oh, and it’s queer (Red and Blue are both female), and SPOILERS SPOILERS has a happy ending.

(also there is a wangxian remix for my mdzs buds. and also a semi-officially sanctioned fanfic sequel???? at least amal el-mohtar linked it from goodreads so whoo! also also it’s very funny)

And that’s my Year in Books 2020! Seeing it laid out like this, I had a surprisingly good year for book reading even though I felt like I barely read anything. For awhile, reading was Hard, and I just wanted to consume fluffy, sweet fanfiction, but I’m getting back into it. Oh, and please let me know if you check any of these out!

Here’s to a good year for books in 2021! ✨

#books #book recs #2020 #book reviews #personal #liz reads

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millennial-star-gazer · 4 years

Text

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter. The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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Read More of Tantric Flames and the rest of my writing on here and other plaftorms.

)Note: You may need to Copy and paste designated links into a new browser tab or window if reading on the desktop site)

1. Tantric Flames

A. Tumblr Version

(Previous Chapter:) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/188352271948/tantric-flames-chapter-8-tantric-art-of)

Chapter: 9 (Next Chapter ) (Coming Soon)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) ( or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) ( or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063882/chapters/40123739)

2. Master Post Of All My Writing (Click Here:) ( or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs.

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance.

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

#fairytail #ft fanfics #nalu #endlu #natsu x lucy #e.n.d natsu x lucy #tantric flames #my writing #millennial star gazer writes #millennial stargazer #please reblog

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lisinfleur · 4 years

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T&T - Chapter 14: Hallowed Be Thy Name

Author’s Notes | Crutch... step... step... crutch - Thank you @youbloodymadgenius for this amazing particle of this chapter! (I could never think of Ivar's arrival without this perfect description of its sound!). By the way, I would like to warn again this is a HEAVY chapter. One of the heaviest I've ever written. Thanks to @honestsycrets as well by the historic/biblical references and for helping me with the whole development of this chapter since I was stuck on how to write it! Words | 3211 ⁑ Warnings: Christian quotes. HEAVY violence, mentions of blood, woman's humiliation, archaic punishment, vengeance, religious mocking. Caution is recommended: potentially triggering content! Keep in mind that the characters' concepts and opinions are NOT inherent to the author!

Crows were sent to communicate their queens the victory was reached and to tell Atli to bring Iliana with him towards Kattegat - Ivar would be consecrated one of the kings in his homelands and he wanted his own people to receive their new queen and know their prince once Kattegat would be the second capital of his domains and center of the lands he would divide with Hvitserk's crown, now about to become heavier. The whole domain the Rus had taken from their hands was now under them both and would be properly centered in order to allow the proper government: the biggest part of Norway would be under Hvitserk's crown, Ivar would remain at Brynjar's lands, and Kattegat would be center, part of both kingdoms, a safe base, and commerce center for both of the crowns and, later on, for the English settlement Hvitserk intended to contact in order to connect their people and all the lands that were conquered by Scandinavian hands.

The celebration of victory took the whole night, but Ivar didn't take real part on it - the last time, he got drunk, but this time, the king remained sober, looking at the sky through the windows of the hall, waiting anxiously for the time to complete his vengeance.

"Sun won't come faster with her chariot just because you want to honor her with your sobriety, brother," Hvitserk mocked.

But Ivar didn't take another sip, holding the horn anyway, but keeping his eyes at the sky outside.

"She won't. But I'm not sober as a sacrifice for her, brother. I want to be here. Completely here. Completely conscious when it happens."

Hvitserk sat beside Ivar's throne - something he remembered doing just a few times when they were together for the last time.

"She turned your mind upside down," he remembered, sipping from his horn.

His mind at the times when his little brother would laugh and feast as the pain was eating his heart and anger poisoning his mind. Hvitserk could still remember sweet Thora. Poor mad Margrethe... Those were wounds he would never have healed in his heart, he knew that. Wounds caused by an ego his brother cultivated.

An ego fed up by that woman; that blonde cockatoo shrunk on the corner of the celebration, crying low as if she had any right for the mercy her lips were pleading the whole night.

"She did. But I gave her doors to enter. Ways to mess up everything inside my brain, my heart. I don't blame her for the monster I became, Hvitserk. But I blame her for the treason... I blame her for setting me a trap. She's a viper. And like a viper, she shall be eliminated." Ivar said.

Icy blues over Katya's figure now.

"What do you intend to do about her?" Hvitserk asked, curious.

"Do you remember Heahmund, Hvitserk?" Ivar answered.

And Hvitserk scoffed, getting up almost instantly, annoyed by the mere remembrance of that bishop he wanted so bad to be the one to kill.

"We spoke a lot about his god," Ivar continued, knowing on Hvitserk's body language that he remembered the bishop very well. "The Christian god and his stories. I've learned a lot about how they say their false god is merciful, kind, able to perform tricks they call miracles..."

"Where are you trying to go with this conversation, Ivar?" Hvitserk asked, now really annoyed with that mention.

He'd heard Ubbe was baptized despite seeing his faith in the old gods was still the same; his own father was touched by those false words. Was his little brother falling for them as well?

"Chill, little brother," Ivar answered, patting Hvitserk's shoulder. "I don't believe a single word of the stories Heahmund told me."

His words tranquilized Hvitserk's heart and his eyes followed Ivar's finger when he pointed Katya on the corner of the hall.

"But she does," Ivar said, catching Hvitserk's attention and increasing his curiosity. "You see... I'm a curious man, like our father once was. But I like to see more than listen to stories, my brother. And I've heard the Christians had spread their stories around our people, forcefully converting and baptizing some of our villagers, pushing some of our countrymen into their false customs. I think..." Ivar made a small pause, looking at Hvitserk and getting his brother's eyes into his own. "I think it’s a good time to show our fellowmen what lies did the Rus bring into our people; to purge this false god out of our lands as I did with his followers."

Hvitserk's expression changed, touched by the malice of the mischievous tone of Ivar's voice.

"What are you planning, Ivar?"

"I wanna make a bet with their false god, brother," Ivar said, sipping from his cup and smiling at Hvitserk before straightening his back at the throne, sounding even more imposing than before. "Let's see if he can fulfill his promises of salvation."

Hvitserk smirked. But his curiosity wouldn't have to wait too long: Sun was about to be born and as soon as the sky started to stain the darkness of the night with the red and orange tones of the dawn, Ivar got up, calling everyone's attention.

"Open the Hall!" he ordered, speaking as the doors were slowly opened for the people outside - the people of Kattegat who were celebrating their former princes' return outside. "And bring me the queen!"

Ivar's potent voice called Katya's attention as every pair of eyes in that great hall was turned towards her.

Her chest filled itself with fear and her eyes were pouring panic in profusion when Ivar's men took her from the pole she was tied to, dragging her carelessly towards the center of the hall.

She tried to get up as Ivar walked towards her with his slow pace.

Crutch... step... step... crutch... The sound of terror slowly flowing through her veins until her worst nightmare was standing in front of her.

The devil itself was smiling at her on Hvitserk's face. Legions of demons surrounding her. Katya swallowed dry. Oleg was dead, her men were dead or gone. She was alone in the wolves' lair.

A lamb for the sacrifice.

She raised her eyes to find Ivar's icy blues injected with something she couldn't really identify. It was a mixture of anger, betrayal, and cruelty she didn't have too long to analyze before he started speaking.

"The woman I loved..." Ivar mumbled, almost as if there wasn't anyone in the hall but the two of them. "The one I raised from slavery into my bed, to stand as a queen by my side."

"Ivar..." She tried to start something.

But Ivar ignored her attempt, running over her voice as if she was nothing but a fly buzzing around his ear.

"Dead and buried by your despicable smile."

Ivar's voice finally gained the tone she was expecting: anger. That anger she knew was buried inside that man's heart and would pour now, strong as a river she expected to see drowning her quick and painlessly.

But Ivar's daggers never reached her neck as Katya expected. Instead, his fingers touched her face tenderly, almost as he was used to doing when she was his queen, and hopes of forgiveness crossed Katya's mind. Maybe he would forgive her crimes. Maybe he could at least let her live.

His fingers slid through her skin and she closed her eyes, swallowing dry once again, allowing Ivar to feel her throat moving against his fingers before he could reach the golden cross in her chest, touching and lifting it for Katya's biggest despair.

For a moment, she wished she had forgiven to put that cross on the last morning.

"The Christian god," Ivar mumbled.

And Katya felt as he pulled the cross against her neck, hurting her nape when the necklace broke against her sensitive skin.

Ivar lifted the cross, showing the object to the hall, speaking to the people around - many of them already wearing one like that.

An order she could remember Oleg had settled not far from that day.

"I've heard many stories of this god... The one whose son was crucified to save the whole humanity from its sins. The merciful savior of mankind," Ivar repeated the words he remembered hearing from Heahmund's mouth about his god. "I've heard stories from his book... One of his priests told me himself that this son of god could perform these... Miracles..." he continued, with a mocking tone full of doubt and contempt, stronger in some strategical words. "Things like healing the blind... The cripple!" Ivar pointed his own legs and Hvitserk scoffed from his position, sitting on the arm of Kattegat's throne with rolling eyes and an expression full of that Christian bullshit Ivar just had started speaking and was already hitting his balls.

"Well," Ivar continued, with Katya and the people's attentive eyes over his speech. "I remember hearing the people of this Christian god used to throw stones on adulterous women. Isn't it right, queen Katya?"

Katya's body became cold like the snow from her homelands in the deepest winter. Her stomach dropped down her belly and she was sure she would throw up if there were something inside her to be forced outside. She swallowed dry once again, feeling tears filling her eye lines, and yet, she nodded, trembling when Ivar smiled at her positive answer, continuing his tenebrous speech.

"I knew I've heard right," he boasted, smiling at the people around and keeping the pace of his story. "I've heard as well, from the priest I'd mentioned, that this... Christ... Even saved one of these whores from being stoned by her people. What were his words, queen Katya? He, who is without sin, cast the first stone, right?"

Katya felt the warm drop slide through her cheek as she nodded again, confirming what Ivar said. Then the second one came, and the third. Soon her cheeks were cut by lines of salty tears of a silent despair that was eating her inside at Ivar's every word.

"Perfect! It's good to see my memory is still in a perfect state. Thank you, queen Katya," Ivar mocked, smiling once again with a small debauched reverence of his head before turning himself to his people once again. "I've heard there are people among my fellowmen who believe in this... New god..." his voice made a small pause full of contempt before he started speaking once again. "You see... The fair people of Kattegat know my family from its core. You all know my father was a curious man and I'm not far from him: the apple tree wouldn't give us a peach, right?" he giggled.

And with him, the whole bunch of men and women around, interested in the new king's speech. Even Hvitserk straightened himself, interested and curious about what bet was his brother talking about earlier at the party.

"Like my father, I like to bet with fate and see by myself the things I hear that exist. You see, my fellowmen, I do not believe in this Christian god or his stories. But who am I to question the gods, right? I've seen Odin by myself, with my bare eyes, and yet, their priest said my gods didn't exist. So, I'm here to give this merciful savior a chance to show himself in front of my eyes... Since I cannot ask him personally to heal my legs as a gift, for a joke I'll ask him to repeat a simpler action his followers insist on spreading like a good proof of his mercy. Here, my friends, is a whore."

Ivar's hand stretched itself towards Katya who looked at the people inside the hall, men and women, some laughing at the way Ivar was introducing her to them. Her crying face stared by many curious and interested pair of eyes as if she was some kind of attraction for their entertainment.

"She may be dressed as a queen, but do not fool yourselves, my brothers," Ivar said, standing behind Katya, causing her shivers to become colder when his hands touched her shoulders. "It's still a whore, whether dressed in noble cloth..."

His fingers gripped the tissue of her dress and Ivar pulled it down, tearing the upper coverage of her clothes, ripping the sleeves apart along with the embroidery, turning the dress into rags that barely could keep Katya's breasts covered.

"Or rags," he continued, with his hands running her skirt, ruining the cloth, ripping and tearing until she was covered with nothing but the remains of what was once a beautiful golden dress.

"Still a whore, whether covered in gold," Ivar continued.

His fingers now pulling her jewels, hurting her ears when tearing off the earrings from them, causing her little squeals of fear when his rough hands pulled the rings from her fingers, throwing the whole bunch of golden pieces towards the crowd.

"Or wearing nothing but her skin," he completed.

And then his eyes acquired a devilish tone when his hand held Katya's braid, pulling her back in a squeak, lifting the long hair to expose it and pull it away from her neck as his other hand pulled a dagger from his belt.

"A whore, my friends," he continued, cruel. "Whether dressing her most beautiful face or naked even from her beauty."

His heavy words preceded the terrifying sensation of his dagger sliding so close to Katya's head as Ivar cut every strand of her hair, unevenly, carelessly, throwing the braid of golden strands on the ground, causing the lines of tears at the queen's cheeks to become thicker as the sobs started to engulfing Katya's breath.

Hvitserk's eyes watched that scene silent as he was chewing carelessly on an apple he stole from beside the throne. It was yet little... Too little, he knew. In Ivar's place? He wouldn't be doing differently with a woman who did what that naked cockatoo did to his brother.

With a small walk forward, Ivar continued, looking at his people with a pompous tone as if he was indeed challenging god himself, despite not believing anyone was really listening to that theater other than his own gods - Loki proud of his mischievous performance, by the way.

"Every man, child, and woman that can come into the hall pick up a stone and open the way to our gates," he ordered.

And it was done: the people started picking up stones on the ground and moving inside and away from the doors, opening a clear path from the throne stage to the principal gates. A distance Katya knew she could run in a few moments if she was quick enough.

Ivar's icy blues turned towards her one more time, but he kept speaking to the people around as Hvitserk got up, picking up a stone himself to go down and stand near the crowd wanting to participate on that game.

"I don't know how much do you believe in your god, dear queen Katya, but I'm up to see if your faith is worthy of my attention: My people, who as long as I know is without sin, shall cast the stones against you, the whore. If you can reach the gates of my Hall, I shall set you free. I'll give you a horse and your weight in silver. And I'll accept your god is real and trustworthy, enough for me to allow his faith to come into this town."

Hvitserk giggled again, in contempt. But Ivar continued - a big smile in his face crowning the theatrical performance he was conducting with his arms open and voice out loud so everyone in the hall could hear his little speech and bet.

"If you fall before reaching the gates, then I'll prove your faith worth nothing but the dimes I'll spend to buy every single cross in this town from my people's hands to melt, clean and fuse into a beautiful ornament to my crutch, so it will serve to always remember everyone in this town who's the man who defied and won the Christian god and proved his existence nothing but a lie."

Katya's eyes stared at the open gates in front of her, but she couldn't miss the faces standing forward, moving and positioning itself at the margins of that small path she would have to cross towards freedom. Men Oleg had enslaved. Women her men had raped with her acceptance. Some had the stones firmly pressed in their clenched fists waiting for the right moment to put on it all the weight of their vengeance for the honor or lives that were stolen from them.

"Whenever you feel ready, dear queen," Ivar mocked her hesitation, smiling at her. "Let's see if your merciful Christ is up to save another whore today."

Some steps back and Ivar could see the smile on Hvitserk's face. He was the first in the queue of the crowd, waiting with hungry eyes for Katya's first steps.

Shyly, she walked to the limit of where the path would start. Her trembling hands gripping the skirt made into shreds. Her eyes contemplated the light of a sunny day outside the door almost as if the sky had opened itself to watch her torment. It was such a little path, not more than thirty steps.

She knew she would never reach those gates.

But what choice did she have? What could she do but beg for God's mercy and try?

Without a warning, she started running towards the doors, causing Hvitserk to miss the moment - along with many others who threw their stones too soon or too late to reach her. But the older prince wasn't stupid and his aim was certain: Hvitserk's stone hit Katya's head and along with the many others that hit her legs, knees, and back, caused her to fall in the middle of the hall, crying under a rain of stones that came from all sides as she crawled towards the gates.

The stones ended before the path. A quarter of it stained in a trail of blood left by her broken body, bruised and parted in many places. The open wounds pouring her life Katya could feel escaping as fast as her hopes to do more than brush her fingers near the last steps before the gates.

In her last moments, the sound of terror came again almost like derision, getting closer as if the fear of its approaching wasn't completely gone now.

Crutch... step... step... crutch... step... step... crutch. Katya's blurred vision still allowed her to see when Ivar hanged the necklace with her cross from his fingers, looking down on her as if she was nothing but cattle at his feet.

"A stone for a whore. A dime for a lie. Bring me your crosses, Kattegat. Odin's sons are ruling these lands once more."

He let her necklace fall by her side and stepped on it when walking outside. Crutch... step... step... crutch - the feared sound was going away now.

Along with all the other sounds.

Along with all the light.

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Katya's mind died out without an answer.

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offbrandmercyplates · 4 years

Text

Ms. Emmibee makes some Greek God AU Emster comics, so I follow immediately with a fanfic WEEEEE

The title of this post kind of says it all, but hey! I’m Yours The Author, and if Ms. Emmibee will allow it, the following story will be posted on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts, sooner or later. Like the first fanfic I posted here, it combines a few of the comics and even some fan art, to an extent (shout out to amee-racle for the inspiration of one of the scenes here!) into a semi-coherrent story. I originally started with an introduction scene that showed the Kore (Emmi) and Hades (Gaster) seeing but not meeting each other for the first time, but I realized the main scene I wanted to get to could be more concise and still deliver most of the same information, so I did some reworking. I hope you like it! This involves the “pomegranate” comic, mentions some stuff related to the “jewels” comic, and has a reference to amee-racle’s fan art of Kore and Hades with flower crowns! See you at the bottom!

The Meeting and the Benefits of Breaking the Rules of the Underworld

“My name is Kore. I’m the goddess of spring,” the floating humanoid in the long dress stated.

The skeleton god stared at her. “I am Hades, the King of the Underworld.” He looked a little prideful when he said that, but his expression quickly reverted to one of bewilderment. “Now I’ll ask again: how did you get down here?”

“You left the cave open when you came down here,” Kore replied.

“…Oh.” It was silent for a few moments, aside from the distant drips of water from the cave’s ceiling and the breeze Kore naturally stirred. Hades slowly pointed behind her. “The exit is that way.”

“I know.”

“…Then why don’t you leave?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“…Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Ah, you’re here on business. Very well; what do you wish to discuss?”

Kore held out her cupped hands. In the light of the crystals hanging from the walls and ceiling, a small pile of jewels glittered in her palms. All sorts of stones, in all sorts of colors. “You’re the one who’s been leaving these for me to find, right?” She asked.

“A-ah…” Hades blushed and tightened his grip on his golden staff. “I just—you—you liked that star sapphire I dropped, so I thought I’d let you find more,” he admitted.

Kore shifted the stones around to examine the smooth blue gem with a white star pattern in the middle. “Well… thank you!” she grinned happily, and Hades quickly adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.

“Y-you’re welcome…”

“And I have something for you!”

“…You do?”

“Yep! I made this for you!” She put the stones away in the pouch tied to her waist, then lifted the flower crown off of her head and placed it over his own shiny crown of metal.

Hades blinked and lifted the flower crown a bit to inspect it. It was a crown of large roses, alternating between yellow blossoms with red tips and lavender blooms. The woven stems weren’t thorny at all, and they didn’t wilt, suggesting they were made with magic. “…Oh.” He slowly let the crown settle on his head. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

It was quiet again. The pink and yellow blossoms woven into Kore’s long and wild locks shed their petals into the breeze, only to regrow and repeat the process. It was a very picturesque scene.

If Hades had lips, he’d probably be biting them nervously. This little goddess was stirring… unnecessary feelings, as well as a breeze. “You should probably go—” he began.

“Got any snacks around here?”

“…Wouldn’t… you rather eat the food from above?”

“I want to try new things.”

“Well…” he thought for a moment, then raised his free hand towards the wall of the cave. It shifted open, revealing a path that led to a garden. Kore floated through the garden, technically impolite for not having waited for permission to enter, but forgiven nonetheless. Hades followed after her. “Many from above believe that no life can exist in the Underworld,” he explained. “This is both true and misleading. Plants that die above ground regrow down here; their life force entwining with the Underworld’s logic. The food in this garden can be eaten by gods and even mortals who live above, bUT–!” He gestured wildly for her to stop.

Kore had picked a shiny red pomegranate and ripped it in half with her bare hands, revealing the glistening seeds. She had been about to dig in, but paused and looked up at him, awaiting an explanation. Hades straightened his long black tunic and tried to look calm. “But you must not eat that pomegranate.”

“Huh?” Kore cocked her head to the side, hovering at eye level. “Why not?”

“The pomegranate is sacred here. It represents the very nature of the Underworld: life,” he gestured to the little spring goddess, “and death,” he put a hand to his sternum. “It is connected to the Underworld, just as I am. If you eat its seeds, you will be bound to the Underworld, and…” he blushed, “to me.”

“Ooooh,” Kore hummed.

“Indeed.”

“…”

Without breaking eye contact, Kore shoveled every seed in both halves of the pomegranate into her mouth. Hades’ jaw dropped open, sputtering sounds barely escaping his teeth as she licked the juice from her fingers, still looking him right in the eye sockets.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He finally managed.

“You just explained to me what it means.”

“YES, BUT—”

“So when should the wedding be?”

“THE WHAT?!”

Kore pulled some of the flowers out of her hair and began to weave them together as if she didn’t just seal her soul to a cave under the ground. “Oh, can we invite my mother, too? I feel like the Goddess of Nature wouldn’t take kindly to not being invited to her daughter’s wedding.”

“M-mother Nature?”

“Mm.”

“She is going to destroy me…” Hades covered his face with his hands.

Kore finished the new crown and set it on her head: an alternating mix of yellow primroses and pink cherry blossoms. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her. Besides, being a goddess bound to the Underworld doesn’t mean I have to be here all the time, right?”

“Well… technically, but—”

“So I can spend some time above ground and spend the rest of the time with you!”

“I—I! I…”

Kore’s smile grew smaller. “Do you not want to…?”

“No! I mean—I… won’t make a very good husband. I’ll disappoint you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She hovered next to him and gently bumped his skull with her head. “C’mon, let’s go say hello to your new mother-in-law!”

“This will not end well…”

***

I don’t know much about the logic of eating food from the Underworld in this AU (Hades specifically mentions the significance of the pomegranate, and that had to have come from somewhere), so I went with the concept that plants that die before their time or under specific circumstances can grow and bear fruit in the Underworld, and anyone can eat any of that food /except/ the pomegranates. In reality, you likely can’t eat any food from the Underworld, but it was just a thought.

Hades can open a cave to go back to the Underworld, but sometimes he forgets to close it behind him, hence how Kore got in.

Flower and jewel symbolism:

Roses generally mean affection, but the color of the rose is often extremely important! Yellow roses with red at the tips of the petals represents falling in love, while lavender-colored roses represent love at first sight.

Star sapphires are often called “the stones of destiny”, and can extend mental focus and knowledge.

Sakura blossoms are practically the living symbol of spring and can represent renewal.

Primroses represent young love, and yellow primroses can represent spring and the sun.

Hades’ “I’ll disappoint you” line is based on something similar he says in a Zarla MercyPlates comic, where Papyrus tells him to be good, and Gaster says something like “I’ll try, but I’ll just disappoint you.” Ah… parallels.

Alright, I think that’s everything. Let me know if it’s okay to post these on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts. I’ll see you around! Keep being awesome! ~~~ No YOU keep being awesome!!! This is absolutely lovely hhhhhh

You’re more than welcome to post this on AO3 and FF. I’ll definitely post it here!

Now to respond to the notes!!

The pomegranate thing is great! The pomegranate symbolism from the comic is actually based on its IRL symbolism, which is similar across many cultures (representing life and death, and also love sometimes), and I think your explanation is really cool!

Hades forgetting to close the cave door is a big mood tbh.

I recognized the “I’ll disappoint you” quote and i CRY

Have I mentioned how much I love flower symbolism??? I LOVE how you used that in this!!

Thank you so much!!!!

#offbrand mercyplates #OBMPfanfic #Yours the Author #greek gods au #gaster #emmibee #aaaaa i love thisssss #submission

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jam-is-my-food · 3 years

Note

writing asks. all of them. ( for 50 uhh just write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you </3 )

fUCK YOU NESSIE

THAT’S IT IM DOING IT JUST TO SPITE YOU

this is gonna be long asf click keep reading at risk of death or boredom

1. Do you listen to music when you write?

not usually, it's distracting

2. Are you a pantser or plotter?

naturally pantser but if i wanna actually finish smth i gotta plot it hh

3. Computer or pen and paper?

computer i'm not a boOmer /j i so am

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

bitch i wiSh

actually technically i was published in this anthology thing once? and i think i have a piece in a magazine somewhere on the internet i forget those are cool

but yeah bye getting a novel published is my d r e a m (gotta write a novel first tho lawl)

5. How much writing do you get done on an average day?

n o t m u c h

unless i get one of my bUrsts aka finishing a 2.3K almoons chapter before 8am the other week after procrastinating it for like two months

but yeah jdsghliuedskj it um depends often none

6. Single or multiple POV?

i answered that for kiri so i'll just copy paste it over loll

mmm it depends. usually i do single? but i do do multiple occasionally. i almost never do alternating chapters, though, it’s usually more like part one is narrated by person a, part two person b etc.

7. Standalone or series?

baha like i could ever write a series (please, please be jinxing yourself rn refster) aside from that one trilogy when i was 7 but uh yeah atm just standalones but a series would be so cool in future

8. Oldest WIP

the aforementioned trilogy. chronicles of clara. it is incREDIBLE. 10/10. so good. so, so good.

9. Current WIP

i haven't actually mentioned it on tumblr yet but hehehe it's called the wordweaver's apprentice it's fantasy and i'm v excited about it :DD that was ooc but :DD

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

(also answered for kiri, copy-pasting over)

hahahahhahahuhdkjashdglauhsdaugediuskjlkehdsgihkdskhgdkjx

i? try?

it does not go well?

but then i never finish my projects?

send help pls im dying

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

lmao the list is too long

12. Describe your perfect writing space

somewhere w/o distractions

13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished

hm. idea. that's cool. that's cool. write it down. hype myself up. forget about it within a week.

el em mayo

but like

f r LMAO

okay but fr fr idk i don't usually finish stuff but it'd be idea, brainstorm, plot (sort of), write, agonize, write, finish, throw in the other direction and never touch again bc revision whos she

14. How do you deal with self-doubts?

cry and spam my friends

15. How do you deal with writer’s block?

i don’t - mm. i don’t tend to get writer’s block? or like - idk what to classify as writer’s block? bc sometimes i get blocked for a certain story, but then i get really into like poetry or sum for a week so it’s fine idk

16. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

o n e as i said i don't - revision is a no

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

uHhHhhhhh idk???

18. If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

*laughs in gfc*

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

i don't. if you have any ideas please hmu i need it.

20. How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

m a n y.

21. Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

mmmmmmmmm i love cass i haven't written her in too long but i think she's probably my most well-done character to date and i'm so proud of her badkghewiludkjs

22. Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write?

c y i l l

though possible imeini (ship name needs revision) in future we shall see (from twa) (the aforementioned newish wip)

23. Favourite author

there are Many

24. Favourite genre to write and read

fantasy maybe? ooh dystopia is fun

25. Favourite part of writing

everything about it when i'm motivated hh, my problem is getting more motivation

26. Favourite writing program

oh idk huh?

27. Favourite line/scene

idk?

28. Favourite side character

j o o s t

29. Favourite villain

i def have one but i forget

30. Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

too many

31. Least favourite part of writing

motivating myself :/

32. Most difficult character to write

mmmm i'm not really in the throes of a wip atm so idk

33. Have you ever killed a main character?

yessir

34. What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

drunk will was surprisingly difficult in a fun way. def not the hardest but yeah

35. What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

god idk

36. Last sentence you wrote

And then Mei was gone, and in the space that she'd filled, Imani whispered, "I wish I was like you."

37. First sentence or your current WIP

It is said that when we came to this stretch of Tatys land, it was empty.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

mm there was one about anthropomorphic chickens battling sentient fruits, the fruits in question also being six-year olds

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

s e e a b o v e

40. Share some backstory for one of your characters

cass's mom used to have a drug problem & she would leave her alone for long stretches of time, she went to rehab and is now sober but it's where cass gets her abandonment issues from

41. Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

just write! no one taught me how to do anything, and there's no rules per se, aside from basic grammatical stuff. do what you wanna do, don't worry about others' reactions. this is cliche asf but true.

42. How do you feel about love triangles?

mostly gross, but they can be good.

43. What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

adapt. i g o w i t h t h e f l o w.

44. How much research do you do?

not much usually, depends on the genre of story. i do as much as i feel i need to. and ofc i have the random writer search history.

45. How much world building do you do?

in the past, not much. twa (once again my new wip) is fantasy, though, so i' m attempting to remedy that.

46. Do you reread your own stories?

i do! it's fun to look back at them after a few years and see how much i've improved.

47. Best way to procrastinate

random character headcanons/doodle writey spurt thingies

48. What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

bAHA this one scene in the cHrOniCLeS of cLaRa book two when this girl lisa who was 100% self-insert got annoyed at her little sister daisy (sister-insert) for chewing too loudly and then proceeded to use her wAtEr pOwErs to like flood the house. that part was less self-insert.

49. Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

bye that's so hard. c a d m u s & l a u r e n t tho cinnamon rolls are liFE.

50. Write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you

i don't gotta write my own bitch i have everything i need to plagiarize from right here

"Raver-Lampman’s enthusiasm is contagious. So is her laugh. It comes from deep inside, just like her voice, and it rings out — ricocheting off furniture and walls. Her head is shaved, all except for a distinctive swath of tight curls on the top and left side of her head. She has the tiniest septum ring in her nose, and a tattoo of what looks like a musical note behind her right ear."

- the clearly gay jessica belt

thank you for the ASKS darLING and thank you if you read this idk why or whether you're okay but yup

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