#i support female character rights and more importantly their WRONGS

[dimehun]

Reading batgirl 2000 !!

[nobodysdaydreams]

In Honor of All Saints Day, Here's Some Random Assumptions About My Followers Based on Their Favorite Saints 😇

Please note this is a merely for fun and not meant to offend anyone, please be kind, thank you. Also, I obviously can't possibly include every saint here, so I'm just gonna stick to some of the ones I think are most likely to be favorites of my followers.

Saint Joan of Arc- I'll start with arguably the most popular one, or at least the one I see posted or discussed online the most. If your favorite saint is St. Joan of Arc, there's a good chance you're an atheist who doesn't vibe with saints in general, but likes her because she's a girl with a sword and that's objectively awesome. You're correct for that, and welcome to the post. Another option is that you're a girl who was labeled a "tomboy" growing up.

Saint Paul- if your favorite saint is St. Paul, you have a blog or a significant portion of your blog dedicated to one ex-villain character whose redemption arc you could rewatch on loop for hours. You also might be Protestant, and yes, this particular St. Paul is the same Paul from the Bible. Welcome to the post. ✝️

Saint Olga- if your favorite saint is St. Olga, you support women's rights, but more importantly, you forgive women's wrongs. There have been several times when you've gotten upset about people questioning the validity of a female character's redemption considering her past when they overlook and forgive way worse done by male characters. There's also a chance you might be Orthodox. Welcome to the post. ☦️

Saint Nicholas- if your favorite saint is St. Nicholas, there is a chance you followed me for TMBS content. Your favorite holiday is Christmas, and you're still hyperfixated on the same book series or television show from your childhood. You're also extremely passionate about your fandoms and can't stand it when people grossly misinterpret characters or things in canon.

Saint Benedict- if your favorite saint is St. Benedict, you also probably followed me for TMBS content. You're also a very humble and unproblematic person but the haters are bitter and always trying to bring you down (via their jealousy and also poison, but you can't be stopped).

Saint Scholastica- if your favorite saint is St. Scholastica, you also might have followed me for TMBS content because you know that she's Benedict's twin sister. You also wish that God would summon storms for you whenever you find your brother annoying.

The Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus- if you picked the Virgin Mary, you're neurodivergent, specifically the type of neurodivergent who loved those card games where characters had different levels of power. You take a similar approach to picking your favorite saint, so why wouldn't you go straight for the one that is objectively the most powerful and the best one? It just makes to most sense to you, and the thing is, you're right. You're 100% right. Congrats!

Saint Cecilia- if your favorite saint is St. Cecilia, you're a musician and were in choir either at school or church. You also probably are/were a theater kid.

Saint Lawrence- if your favorite saint is St. Lawrence, you were definitely a theater kid and tried stand up comedy at least once. You also use jokes and humor to cope with stressful situations.

Saint Josephine Bakhita- if your favorite saint is St. Josephine, you are one of those people who somehow remains positive and sees the sliver lining in literally any circumstance. Don't get me wrong, I love that for you, but please take care of yourself. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Dymphna- if your favorite saint is St. Dymphna, you are neurodivergent, have struggled with mental illness, work in psychiatric or medical care, or you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, and I hope you heal. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Kateri Tekakwitha- if your favorite saint is Saint Kateri, you're sick of your relatives pressuring you to date someone, and you're extremely worried about climate change (girl, me too).

Saint Anthony- if your favorite saint is St. Anthony, you have ADHD and lose things multiple times a week. On the off chance you followed me for Wolf359 content, you identified way too strongly with Doug Eiffel.

Saint Peter- if your favorite saint is saint Peter, you either watch "The Chosen" or you have ADHD and felt seen when you read about him in the Bible. That man boldly declared he would never deny Jesus and when told he would do it before a rooster crowed three times, to which he confidently replied "nah" and then immediately got distracted and preoccupied with cutting some guy's ear off and forgot all about the oddly specific terrible thing he was prophesied to do just a few hours earlier by a man he believed to be God incarnate. As someone who also breaks down in tears when I suddenly remember the important things I forget to keep track of, I sympathize with his story. Saint Dymphna is patroness of most mental illness and ADHD is technically covered by her, but if we ever get an ADHD specific saint, I know it has to be either be Peter or Anthony, and if it were entirely up to me, I'd give it to Peter. Don't get me wrong, Saint Anthony is there for us, but Saint Peter is one of us, you know what I mean? Though I feel like due to the problematic nature of diagnosing the deceased (no matter how evident symptoms might be) it would end up going to Anthony, since we do call on him often, and I think Peter would be fine with that.

Saint Mark Ji Tianxiang- if your favorite saint is St. Mark Ji Tianxiang, you or someone you know is probably in recovery from addiction, and I wish you well on your journey. You also empathize way too much with any character who suffers from addiction and if you followed me for Wolf359, that was the aspect of Doug Eiffel's character that stood out to you the most. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Catherine of Siena- if your favorite saint is Saint Catherine of Siena, you've probably written a book or fanfic well over 100k words. (Yes, I know, you don't have to say it).

Saint Francis of Assisi- if your favorite saint is Saint Francis of Assisi, you either have pets or want them, and if you do have them, you've taken them or begged your parents to let you take them to a St. Francis feast day pet blessing. If you followed me for TMBS, SQ is probably your favorite character, and if you followed me for Wolf359 content, you were inconsolable when Blessie died. You're also probably the kind of neurodivergent who takes things like "if you want to follow God, sell all you have and give it to the poor" literally and as a result, this has caused conflict with your family (specifically on account of you giving all the money made from your family business to the poor).

Saint Joseph- I doubt I have a lot of followers who are parents because of how tumblr demographics skew, but if your favorite saint is Saint Joseph, you just became a dad or really want to become one someday.

Saint Monica- again, I doubt this is the case because of the age of tumblr demographics, but if your favorite saint is Saint Monica, you're a mom who really needs a break, and I hope your husband and sons get it together soon. 🫂❤️‍🩹

Saint Augustine- if your favorite saint is St. Augustine, you also like redemption arcs and likely went through a "party phase" at some point in your life that you regret and identify a bit too strongly with the younger brother in the prodigal son parable. However, in this case, you likely also love St. Monica and if you followed me for Star Wars content, you are particularly upset that we didn't get to see more interactions between Leia Organa and her son Benny Solo especially considering they led a whole war against each other the year between TLJ and TROS (dead horse, I know).

Saint Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin- if your favorite saint is St. Juan Diego, you have or grew up with a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe somewhere in your house. You've also been in the incredibly specific situation of seeing or doing something super cool, but not having anyone believe you (but the satisfying payoff when they find out you were right).

Saint Mary Magdalene- if your favorite saint is St. Mary Magdalene, you either watch "The Chosen" or you're a woman who's faith pulled her out of a very difficult time in her life, and like St. Juan Diego, you also know what it's like to be proven right after a group of men call you a liar.

Saints Louis Martin and Marie-Azélie Guérin (Zélie)- if these are your favorite saints, you understand why you can't just pick one. This power couple comes in a set. If you picked these two, you heard about them because your favorite saint might actually be or have been their very famous daughter St. Thérèse of Lisieux. And if you're a guy and you picked these two, you're also a proud girl dad and can't stop bragging to everyone you meet about how successful your wife's business is (especially because she's so humble about it). Green flags all around.

Saint Maximilian Kolbe- if St. Maximilian is your favorite saint, you're a history guy or gal who is obsessed with world war two, but in a good way. In the "this was very not cool. Let's never forget so we never do this again" way. You also love stories of heroic sacrifice and aspire to always do the right thing even when it’s not socially popular or doesn’t benefit you.

(Soon to be canonized) Saint Carlo Acutis- You're a millennial or gen z who loves researching and talking about modern saints. You aspire to be like them and have a list of ones you want canonized (mine are Servant of God Dorothy Day and Archbishop Joseph Francis Rummel. They lived in the 20th Century and when you're dealing with 2,000 years of history, that's pretty modern).

I'm sure I'll think of more to add after I post this, but I'll leave it here for now. I hope y'all enjoy this!

[rageprufrock]

You are the only author in which I’m like - oh look, Pru wrote for a new c-drama. And then I seriously contemplate watching the 40 eps just so I can get the ~full reading experience~ of the fic. What desperation is this??????? T_T

A) Thank you for your kind words! I'm so flattered you like my writing, and it's always humbling to realize that the silly stories I put out on the internet have made an impact on folks.

B) Seriously though you should watch Mysterious Lotus Casebook. It's probably one of my favorite things I've watched in the last few years, and has bewitched me in a way that is difficult to quantify. Most modern Chinese historicals tend toward (badly rendered) romance or are actually more fantasy than wuxia, but Mysterious Lotus Casebook bucks that trend and is funny, well-acted, beautifully costumed and the fight scenes whip ass. It also has an absolutely unhinged female character who decides to take two of the three male leads as her unwilling queen and consort--a decision that the fandom collectively recognizes is her due, as we all support Jiao-jie's rights but more importantly her (objectively deranged) wrongs.

I am also absolutely balls deep in brain rot about this fandom. As I've said before: I refuse to get trenchfoot alone. All of you guys get down here with me and write about Li Lianhua abusing his Yangzhouman technique to go seven rounds and break Fang Duobing's ass but good.

[gizkasparadise]

also while im here, top dramas of the year ive seen so far (roughly in order)

lost you forever (cdrama)

this is the year of "dramas on paper i hate become immediate most favorite dramas." i was meh or actively disliked a good chunk of the cast before watching it, and wasnt going to bother. tumblr!posts intrigued me and i immediately got hooked. great female lead, great love interests and character development. reverse harem done right!!

moving (kdrama)

i am so sick of superhero shit due to mcu hypersaturation, so this was another one i wasnt going to bother with. but i liked the cast, so i gave it a shot and omg. it's a character study and intergenerational trauma (and intergenerational hope!!) hidden as a superhero movie. the definition of legacy being seeds you plant so your children can see flowers bloom. the family relationships are so good and this show made me cry like 3 times

the glory, part 2

i support women's rights but more importantly i support women's wrongs. a satisfying second half to one of my favorite dramas!

perfect marriage revenge

not even halfway done but i just love it. over the top, extra makjang plot from like 2008 with pocket lint for a budget but executed so well and knows what it's about

upcoming 2023 dramas im excited for

death's game (kdrama)

welcome to samdalri (kdrama)

sweet home season 2!!! (kdrama)

2023 dramas i havent watched yet but got high hopes for

twinkling watermelon

my dearest

story of kunning palace

wonderland of love

call it love

an ancient love song

west out of yumen

2023 biggest letdowns

arthdal chronicles s2. we couldve had it all, and i was excited about recasts. what we got was tedious side plots that took too long, illogical deus ex machinas all over the place, and inconsistent or underused characters. some highlights, but it didnt meet my hype for it :(

worst of evil. incredible ride, dud of an ending

my journey to you. someone will punch me for this, but it was way too slow for me and i couldnt stand the sound/auditory levels for dialogue (everyone. slowly. whispers. everything. all. the. time)

till the end of the moon. LOOK I REALLY LOVED PARTS OF IT. but i hated about the same number of parts and the ending was stupid. a seesaw of emotions.

[dira333]

The Road Not Taken - part 5

Shibi x  female reader with a name - arranged marriage

Summary: Airi Nara seems a hopeless case, until her grandmother sets her up for an arranged marriage. But was marrying Shibi Aburame the right choice after all?

Character Sheet - Masterlist

Exhaustion has settled heavy in your legs as you walk through the door. Shibi’s gourd is leaning against the wall next to his shoes, telling you that he’s home.

You want to do nothing but fall into bed right now but your stomach is painfully reminding you that you haven’t eaten in hours.

If you sit down you’ll not get up again so you locate some leftovers from dinner and a bag of gummy bears and scarf it down standing, leaning against the wall for support.

A few Kikaichu fly past your face as you open the door to your room. You take two steps and drop down on your comforter, too tired to bother with closing the door or slipping out of your clothes. 

Sleep is pulling you in fast, the only thing keeping you awake is the feeling of your belt buckle digging into your stomach. 

You’re fighting yourself, trying to gain enough strength to turn on your side or back, when a a low noise comes from behind you.

“Airi?” Shino’s not wearing his glasses or his usual overcoat and you can see the growing redness on his milky white arms as he stops in front of you. “My skin is itchy. Can you bathe me?”

“Shino?” You raise your head slightly to glance at your alarm clock. “It’s half past five. Why are you awake already?”

“My skin is itchy.” He repeats, his annoyance made visible when bugs start crawling over his skin. “You’ve got to bathe me.”

“Can’t your father do it? He’s going to wake up in half an hour anyway.”

Something dark moves over Shino’s features and the truth cuts through your exhaustion like a hot knife through butter.

Shino might be an Aburame, quiet and polite to a fault, but he might also be the first to show you his real self, accepting you as part of this family the only way he can. 

He’s four years old. He wants your attention and, more importantly, your help. 

You wanted to be a mother for so long and today is just another day where you have to prove that you can do it.

“Alright.” You move to get up. “I’m coming. Does your skin get itchy often?”

“Sometimes.” He pulls you forward by the hem of your skirt and points at the array of tubs and bottles in the tiny bathroom that he uses. 

“Normally the blue bottle is enough but when it gets really itchy, I have to scrub down with the red one and lather the skin with the green one.”

You grab the two tubs, the height of the shelves telling you that he’d not been wrong in calling you.

Well, he could have called his father, but you suppose this was Shino’s thing. Finding ways to have skin-on-skin contact without ever asking for it directly.

Grateful for the little stool you sit down and wait until he’s stripped out of his sleep wear before lathering your hands in a body scrub that smells faintly of lavender and honey. 

“Can you do me a favor?” You ask softly as you start scrubbing his back, noticing the texture of his skin, soft yet covered in tiny holes barely big enough to see, holes the Kikaichu use to move through.

“Can you talk to me? I’m really tired and you need to keep me awake.”

“Okita was really loud last night,” Shino tells you, too awake for this early hour. Your brain needs half a second to register what he said and even longer to connect the dots. 

The kitten. You’d forgotten the kitten. You’d put it in your room with food and a makeshift toilet before you left, hoping against all odds that you’d be able to tell Shibi in the morning instead of him hearing it from the other two.

“Yeah?”

“I was already in bed but Okita was so loud that I got up and went to see if it was hurt. But it just wanted to escape the room. Father was downstairs.”

“What did he say?” 

“He was surprised. Annoyed when Okita did not want to stay in your room. He sent me back to my room. Why? It was late and I needed to sleep.”

“Did you have a nice evening with Chiasa?”

“What were you doing at work?” 

He avoids the question two more times until you give in and let him direct the conversation.

Eventually, you’d massaged the last drop of lotion into his skin and sit back.

“Now… Do you want to go back to bed for a little bit longer?”

He nods and walks out of the bathroom only to walk into your room instead of his, climbing onto your bed.

“Shino?” You’re too tired to argue, too exhausted to question his need to be closer each day.

“Okita doesn’t like being alone,” Is his reasoning and you suppose it’s good enough, climbing into bed next to him, offering him your arm to slip under.

His hair tickling your chin is the last thing you feel before you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

-.-.-.-.- Shibi -.-.-.-.-

He wakes to a weight on his chest that’s vibrating in harmony with his hive.

When he opens one eye, he can see the faint outline of black fur in the dim morning light. The kitten has curled into a ball on top of him, purring loudly as if to make up for the noise it had been making the better part of last night.

Shibi never had a pet. Why would he? He had his Kikaichu to take care of.

He couldn’t name one member of the Aburame Clan ever having a pet and even his mother could only name one distant cousin who once tried to tame ravens but failed to do so.

Everything in him wants to put a stop to this notion as quickly as he can.

Mother had been surprisingly reluctant to voice her opinions, only offering vague answers until she had decided that she did not want to be disturbed anymore, forcing his Kikaichu from her house and thereby ending their conversation, leaving him to his own devices.

He tried putting the kitten out onto the patio but the tiny feline had been yowling so loudly only seconds after he closed the door that he had been forced to let him in again.

It does not feel good to be so helpless against the whims of an animal, especially one that wasn’t even fully matured. 

It feels even worse knowing that he’d have to let you handle it in the future, no matter what they would decide.

He heaves a sigh. 

What they would decide. He, the Clan Head, is too weak to make his own decisions.

But is it really a weakness? 

No one has ever called him weak for listening to Zoka when she was alive, instead praising his empathy and understanding.

He loved Zoka before she loved him and he knows without a doubt that he is already falling in love with you, not knowing if you’d ever love him.

When he gets up eventually, the kitten curled up on his arm, tiny claws attaching themselves to him whenever he dares move it, Shino’s bedroom door is wide open but the boy is not inside. 

He finds him in your room instead, squinting at him over the top of your arm that’s curled around his chest, your face pressed into his hair.

Wordlessly he orders his son to get up. You need your sleep.

Shino refuses, the furrow of his eyebrows and the emotion in his eyes clearly visible without his glasses on. Shibi’s eyebrows rise. This is unusual.

With a tiny mewl, the feline rises from its place on his arm and jumps onto the bed, settling in the tiny space where your body doesn’t touch Shino’s, eyeing Shibi as if to ask him what he’s still doing there, standing up.

He’s questioning it himself, not sure if this isn’t just a weird dream.

After all, in the reality he knows, he does not have a kitten or a son that does not listen to what he was told. 

One of Shino’s Kikaichu crosses him, telling him to please close the blinds and the door and Shibi gives up, following his son's orders instead of enforcing it to be the other way around.

He does, however, inform him that he’s making breakfast and wants him down to eat with him.

But he’s no fool. He can only hope his son will grow hungry instead.  Why? He will not risk waking you up in favor of dragging Shino down.

-

By the time you come down for lunch, Shino’s been acting as well-behaved as ever for hours. 

Shibi had not enjoyed the lecture he had to give, probably even less than Shino enjoyed listening to it.

But he seemed to understand as much as a four-year-old could understand that there was a difference between sleeping at night and sleeping during the day. That a nap was different than catching up on the sleep you’d missed because you worked through the night.

All self-restraint seems to fly out the window, however, when your feet hit the last step of the staircase.

Shino’s by your side in a second, his eyes roving over your face as his Kikaichu already claim your arm.

“You look tired.” His observation is spot on, but you stop to smile.

“I am tired.” You tell him honestly, “But that’s something I have to deal with during night shift week. It would be unfair if I’d be the one who never had to work night shifts, you know?”

“Did you sleep less because I was there?” 

Shibi flinches at the question and avoids your eyes when you look at him.

“You were not a distraction if that’s what you ask. But I never sleep well after a night shift. That’s just how it is.”

“Can I help?” Shino’s face is open, his attention completely on you. 

Shibi can’t look away either, not when a warm smile lights up your face.

“I feel like I missed out on taking you to bed last night. Can we hug a bit while the coffee brews?”

She opens her arms for him and he steps forward cautiously, letting out a surprised gasp and a cloud of Kikaichu when you lift him up easily, your arms crossed under his legs to hoist him up.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You smile, his face close to yours. “Now, tell me what you did all morning without me, would you?”

Shibi’s mind is split in two. One half is happy, can’t stop watching the way Shino relaxes against you. It reminds him of different times when Shino was clinging to him instead. 

You’re good with the boy, allowing him to be a child with all that entails.

But he can never stop worrying. 

Isn’t Shino too heavy to be carried around this much? Should he get used to it again now that he’s four? He’s going to start advanced training soon and falling back into old habits won’t do him any good there. If he won’t stop clinging to you, it will affect all of them negatively when you have to leave for work.

Right after lunch, Toshiko knocks on the door, asking politely if Shino wants to come with her and Muta for the day. There’s work to do at the pumpkin patches and Muta promises to play with him as well.

Shino seems hesitant, torn between the idea of playing with Muta and staying with you.

“You should go.” Shibi tries to encourage him. “We need to have a grown-up talk anyway.”

As if on cue, Shino’s rebellious streak from this morning returns, his lower lip jutting forward in a pout. Before he can speak, however, you lower yourself to his height and whisper something into his ear. 

Shino considers it for a long moment before he nods and turns to Toshiko.

“I’ll get my shoes. Did you know that we have a cat? His name is Okita.”

Toshiko looks surprised, even more so when Shino does not only bring his shoes but Okita as well, the feline mewing loudly in protest at being woken up.

“We found her yesterday.” You explain, taking the kitten from Shino’s hands. “We’re not sure if we can really keep her or if she already belongs to someone. But she seems to like Shino.”

The truth, Shibi has already understood, is far simpler. Okita, like everyone else in the Aburame household, likes you. All the other people are just there to be used as pillows or food dispensers.

--.-.-.-.- Airi -.-.-.-.-

When Shino has left and Okita has settled in one of the arm chairs, the house falls silent.

It would be so easy to let yourself fall into that silence, to let it carry you away.

But this is something you have to talk about, even if you’re used to keeping your head low and your questions to yourself.

“Chiasa,” you ask because it’s been on the tip of your tongue for some while, “Is she your mother?”

Shibi looks up from the tea he’s been pouring, surprise evident on his features even without his eyes being visible.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“No one ever introduced us that way.” You explain, trying to keep your voice light. “And I can’t go on assuming things, can I? You- Do you communicate through the bugs? The Kikaichu, I mean?”

Shibi nods again. “Yes. We can hold complete conversations through them. It’s difficult for Shino. Why? He has not many people around that need him to use words. He is not used to explaining himself.”

“I’ve noticed. Do the…” You stop for a second, the incident from yesterday still fresh in your mind. “Do the Kikaichu only respond to commands or would they respond to something less formulated as well?”

“What do you mean?”

You explain quickly what happened, both at Yori’s house and with Shikamaru. Shibi’s shoulders are squared when you end, his hands tight around the tea cup he’d been offering you.

“You should not have gone outside the complex without help. I’ve noticed today how he used his Kikaichu to keep you close but this was highly dangerous. You have no expertise in stopping him should he lose control.”

“Then show me.” You interrupt his agitated speech calmly even though your own heart races. Thinking how it could have turned out instead is not good for you nerves.

“I don’t think you-” You interrupt him again, this time with a quick movement of your hands.

“Please hand me my tea.” You instruct him but he does not move.

“What?” His voice is strained now as he tries to fight the shadow bindings.

“I am not helpless. I just need instructions.” You explain. A cloud of black Kikaichu erupts from his sleeve instead, carrying the teacup towards you.

“And you misunderstand the danger of the Kikaichu.”

“If Shino’d really be this dangerous, you would not have let me be alone with him at all.” You remind him softly and accept the tea, cutting the shadow bindings as you do so.

“Let’s sit down.” You feel tired again but this discussion isn’t something you can escape from. “You wanted to tell me your opinion on the matter.”

-

Shibi is quiet for a long moment and you let him gather his thoughts.

“There are four things we need to discuss today.” He begins, his hands resting on his knees, palms down. He looks calm and collected but you’re starting to realize that there might be hiding more under the surface.

“First, I have thought of unwritten rules you need to know to keep up a united front. I did not think Shino would ever rebel against a rule until today. He was instructed to let you sleep and yet he must have woken you at some point.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet when he came by. He told me that he was itchy and needed my help to bathe.”

Shibi looks surprised. “He did not complain about it at all the night before. But I have noticed that he’s looking for reasons to spend time with you. As much as it pleases me that he likes you, you cannot give in too easily and spoil him. He used to be like that with me when he was about two years old. He was clinging to me every minute I was home and when I had to leave for work or missions, he’d cry and be inconsolable.”

“Shibi.” He looks up from his hands that are now gripping the fabric of his trousers. 

“He’s four.” You remind him softly, “If he wants to cuddle, he should be able to do so. I know we have a lot of work to do but suppose…” You hesitate and let the thought form itself properly, thankful that Shibi gives you the time and space for it.

“Suppose we arrange half an hour a day where he gets to cuddle us. Individually. Just like we told him that nap time was important if he wanted to be able to stay up longer. I did agree to cuddle with him before I had to leave for work so maybe that would help?”

“Half an hour?” Shibi’s voice sounds contemplative. “Just cuddling? What would that entail?”

It’s the way he asks, suddenly so unsure of himself, that makes you reach out and close one of your hands around his, your eyes fixed on his glasses. 

“It’s about skin-to-skin contact. Hugging, holding hands, just sitting next to each other and touching as you work. Whatever you both feel comfortable with.”

You move to release his hand but he tenses for the tiniest fraction of a second and you stop, unsure how to proceed.

Shibi is your husband. As far as you can tell, he’s a nice man. One that’s probably even more touch starved than his son. Maybe, just maybe, the Aburame Clan isn’t just as touch starved as any other Shinobi. Maybe it’s even worse.

Softly you lifted your joined hands from his knee and place them on the couch cushions between you, smiling encouragely at Shibi.

“So, cuddling hour… what else?”

Your hands are still entwined when he agrees to the cat.

He pulls back, however, when he addresses the third thing on his list. His wife.

“I have thought about it.” He admits, his voice low. “And I do understand your reasoning. But I have no idea how to introduce her into Shino’s life like nothing happened.”

“It will come up,” you promise him, “And when it does, you can try and answer as truthfully as you possibly can. If you want it to come up when you’re ready for it, bring out something that used to be hers. Shino’s a curious kid. He will ask.”

“Did you have something like that?” Shibi asks. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“My mother died first.” You tell him softly. “And she left me this quilted blanket made from all my old baby clothes. It grew with me, you could say. There’s a story attached to every square of this blanket and in the short time between my mother’s and my father’s death, it soothed both of us to sit there and look at every square and talk about it. I still have it and like to look at it when times get rough.”

“I do not want to undermine your position in this household.” Shibi’s voice is scratchy now, tick with feeling too.

You freeze for a second, realizing what he’s talking about.

“Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?” You ask, your voice mirroring his now. “Because if the roles were reversed, I’d want Jurou to be happy. I might have to remind myself sometimes that I’m allowed to be happy without him, but I know he’d want me to be happy. And I think it’s important that children know that their parents ultimately want them to be happy.”

After that conversation, the two of you fall quiet again.

It’s a heavy, but comfortable quiet, like a thick wollen blanket in winter.

Even though the topic feels fit for a late night or a rainy afternoon, the sun outside is shining bright and you can hear birds singing outside, Okita perched at the window to watch them fly.

Your eyes always come back to Shibi.

You think that even without the high collar and the sunglasses it would be hard to read him, his face not giving much of his thoughts away. 

Maybe it’s the time spent with Shino that makes you more attuned to him, though, seeing features and behaviors repeated in this smaller version of him.

Their eyebrows are the same and even though their angle suggests that they’re always annoyed, you’ve come to notice how they look when they truly are annoyed.

You wonder how much longer it will take you to read Shibi like a book and if that’s ever going to be possible.

He pulls you out of your reverie when he leans forward and puts one large hand on your right, entwining his fingers with yours.

“The last point,” he starts and you can hear it, the little quiver in his voice, that tells you that he’s nervous. 

“This has been a quiet house. Why? Partly because we have been communicating in a different way, but we also do not speak if we feel we have nothing important to say. It has changed since you arrived. Shino talks a lot more. But you might still need a lot of patience with Shino and me. Why? Shino wants to talk to you but he is not used to verbal communication. He will tell you what he’s learned again and again and again. And I…”

He stops, his mouth a tense line. 

You can’t help but assume that like in most things, he’s like his son too. He wants to talk, but he doesn’t know how or what about.

“I like talking to you.” You realize just how true these words are when they slip from your mouth. Shibi is always calm and patient, never one to judge your words before you’ve got a chance to explain yourself. The past years and experiences might leave you tense in most conversations, afraid to ask questions, but Shibi’s calm presence is like the ease you never knew you could have.

“How about that…” You offer softly, “I will ask any question that comes to my mind and you will do the same? That way we’ll obviously have to talk more.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. Only a heartbeat later he opens his mouth again.

“What is your favorite snack?”

You can’t help but laugh at that question. “I… Gosh, I have no idea. But I usually go shopping like this…”

[lary-the-lizard]

I’m reblogging this again because the fucking audacity. I will not be discoursing, I do not want op to be ridiculed, op is valid, I just hate their perspective because:

It’s limited. It’s ableist, and it’s heteronormative. To be clear! This does NOT mean that op is bad and problematic and shouldn’t be heard. Their opinion is not them, and they have just as much right to have it and express it as I do mine.

Marriage is a heteronormative patriarchal structure made to control females and women and facilitate state connections. Since society has evolved marriage has become much less oppressive to individuals but it’s still one of the most powerful tools used to control everyone. Yes it is romantic in many ways, the idea that someone would willingly bind themselves together not only socially but legally and traditionally vow to not romantically love or fuck others because they are that devoted is intense. Like “yes, government and community, if I fall out of love with this person/people I WANT you to punish me for it.” But not getting legally bound to another can be just as romantic. It can be just as symbolic. But more importantly, queer relationships should not have to mimic cishet traditions to be viewed as just as valid and meaningful. Marriage is a heteronormative traditional method of control and it’s only been recently that queer relationships have started to assimilate to it. Yes, many queer couples did share homes and stay monogamous and maybe many did want to get legally married. But more than anything queer relationships want social acceptance and one of the easiest ways to get that is to perform heteronormativity.

But hey, Andriel is a fictional couple and we just want a happily ever after for them. That is completely understandable and good. There is nothing wrong with that. To me, this is about queer assimilation, not Andriel, and yeah, I love the idea that they don’t ever get married but that’s my little fantasy and it doesn’t matter.

One of my favorite things about Andrew and Neil as characters is how fucked up they because of their trauma. I recognized myself in them and I loved the implications at the end of the story that they were recovering from that trauma but it was going to take a long time. And when I learned that Sacavic headcannoned that they would always be haunted by their trauma I loved that too. Not only because it made sense but because it’s authentic to what me and many other trauma victims experience.

Time and meds and therapy help a whole lot but there are some wounds that not only forever change you but never stop hurting because your brain literally grew through it. Even with healthy coping mechanisms and friends and family that love and support them, some people never fully recover. They will never be fully functional, they will always need disability aids whether that be hearing aids or medication or emotional support pets. They will be haunted by nightmares, forever fear certain situations or spaces, and go through depression periods. That is okay. Many people live long lives but are constantly on the edge of suicide because of trauma and resulting mental illnesses. That does make their lives less important or their happy moments less valid.

Romance doesn’t complete anyone. It doesn’t make you happy for the rest of your life, it doesn’t solve anyone’s loneliness or mental disability. It helps often. It inspires. But finding a special someone doesn’t make you heal. You make you heal. They are a bonus.

[agnesandhilda]

between chainsaw man, the locked tomb, and the entire when they cry series I currently believe that the most reliable way of writing compelling female characters is to support women's rights but more importantly their wrongs

[pyreshe]

my biggest thing abt female characters is that I support women's rights but more importantly I support their wrongs,

[stilltrails]

I love elwing a lot but her fans are actually the most insufferable people which is why I refuse to interact with them or even share with them. Elwing gets an unfair amount of misogyny and hatred, and we need to talk about it because the fandom tends to be very pro SoF when ti comes to her (disclaimer, I love the SOF as well). But the fact of the matter is that every time someone has a tiny critique on elwing, or at least sees things she does differently from others then there are about ten people trying to twist the narrative and pulling the 'elwing defense squad' bullshit, sometimes even against elwing fans. I love her, I am a simp for tolkien ladies because they never get enough credit,e specially elwing who is teh reason earendil found valinor and should be as credited for waging a successful war against morgoth as her husband. But my god the way tons of her fans act and get offended when even elwing fans have a different opinion on her or have the nerve to see the nuance and compexities in the attack on sirion gives me such a knee jerk reaction. Elwing such a nice, multi faceted woman but her fans are some of the most toxic, and gatekeeping people I've ever seen which is why I dont even look in her tag

Thank you anon! And I don't want to disparge what other Elwing fans are feeling. I understand their anger and upset, and the immediate need to get up and arms when they see something that is remotely anti-"Elwing did nothing wrong". But at the same time, Elwing fans are allowed to think differently.

I love her because her story is not meant to be a "she did nothing wrong" story. Her choices are complex. Her choices are both right and wrong, and I want to celebrate that. Because I think it's misogynistic to imply that she has no flaws, or to not view her under the same lens that we do other character.

No one's choices in the Silmarillion are clear cut, the point is that they all make questionable decisions. There is a entire book's worth of cautionary tales about the Silmarils, and good people doing bad things because of the jewels.

I think i'm bothered most because as someone who loves Elwing and complex female characters, I don't feel allowed to with Elwing. And I feel isolated from other Elwing fans because of my reading on her. Going into Elwing's tag and seeing something i've spoken in depth about torn apart for no reason is hurtful, but it won't make me stop.

I love Elwing, and I love her enough to make a complex female character, and analyze her actions. That offends people apparently. On another note, I see Elwing like Alicent. Alicent is a good person at heart, who's circumstances have caused her to do very questionable things, and things I can't support. But that doesn't mean I don't love her.

I wish I could talk to Elwing fans who took who allowed her actions to be analyzed, not those who vague post about other fans because they don't like our interpretation. Thank you anon.

I'm never going to think what she did was 100% right or 100% wrong because it's not, but more importantly because it's a fictional story with actions and narratives that the author himself left up for grabs.

[f0point5]

🥖🥖🥖anon back for more!!! responding to the comment about multimillionnaires being liable to talk in front of the a judge. what would they do how could this happen:

You don’t want them to talk in front of a judge. Regardless of where they stand in the matter the testimony will go (in very VERY simplified sparknote-esque terms)

« so you’ve worked with CH before? »

« Yes »

« And you’ve seen him interact with - redbull female employee-« 

« Yes »

« And did you witness any misconduct »

« No »

« How long have you worked with CH »

« X #of years »

« And in this time, how have you come to know his conduct in the workplace? »

And they will give an honest answer which will probably be something to the extent of

« Professional ect ect ect »

Which then gets used as a character reference and can be used against the Red Bull employee.

Again, none of these terms would be used in that way, this is the extreme spark notes version.

Also, anyone and everyone has a right to a lawyer/law team, especially this situation, where it’s wildly publicized, it will not be very hard to find a strong and committed team.

Lastly, if anyone is still confused, watch the shit show that was the Depp/heard trial. In terms of PR and media influence that’s very comparable.

The jury had to avoid any news, discussion, or research about trial topics. Celebrities and media were being called to the stands. Most people including Depp’s family were not public about support. AH’s sister was public in support, her testimony was used against AH.

These things get messy. This is inevitable. It’s a matter of how messy. And most importantly, while everyone, including myself can have their 2 cents online ect, at the end of the day, your opinion will have little to no weight in the conclusion of this matter. They will not let anyone with knowledge, opinions, or partiality have part in getting justice in this situation.

If and When the victim in this situation decides to speak, let her speak and listen to what she has to say. These are her experiences and her livelihood in question, and the only person who is truly qualified to speak on that and what that means is her and the people who know and support her personally. The internet has no shortage of social justice warriors who are ready and able to speak for and standby those who to their perception(time will tell if this is the truth), have been wronged. To an extent, this is incredible. But there has to be an openness to listening as well. The space for the woman or her team of representatives to speak and be heard above the field of internet chatter needs to be valued here above all else.

All this. Thank you once again for bringing reality back into the conversation. I know not everyone is appreciating it because they want to be delulu but I sure do!

🤍🤍🤍

Also, while I ultimately disagree that the internet crusaders are positive, I agree that I really hope they are open to listening to facts if and when the facts do come out. And that if this woman ever decides to speak, her experience is not appropriated and twisted to fit the narrative of what people want it to be.

Sadly, given the Lando situation, I really think that’s unlikely to be the case.

[andvys]

You raised your brows, a laugh falling from your lips as you eyed him.

oh so she's hot hot.... 🧎‍♀️

“Date,” he stuttered out, mentally slapping himself already, “I-I just… D-Do you wanna go on a date….. with me… tonight?”

when she makes men feel shy and small 🥵🥵

You took a step back and looked him up and down one more time, you chuckled and said, “no, you don’t.” And with that, you turned around and walked away from him.

SYGSIWVE8SGD9DHD9 SHES SO MEAN IM- i support women's rights but most importantly i support women's wrongs ❤️🩷💓💖❤️‍🩹🫶

“Pick it up you asshole or you’re gonna end up just like your pathetic loser friend over here,” you pointed to Jason.

YOU TELL HIM GIRL MAKE HIS LIFE HELL

“Whatever, get lost, Jasper.”

BAHAHAHA she's a baddie 🫶🫶 i want her

You smirked and looked around the now empty hallways as everyone finally left the school for the day, “do you wanna get out of here, Eddie?” you asked, “do you wanna fuck me?”

oh she's hot.... did you just made me fall in love with the main character?? y/n of all people?? 🤨

You won’t let anyone break your heart. 

YESSSSSS MY QUEEN I LOVE HER i want her to *** ** *** **** ** ***

in conclusion... i loved it 🫶🫶 (also i don't remember if i signed the previous ask but it's honey anon 😭)

I love female characters who are intimidating to men so I just had to write her like that 😩 and her being mean is just perfect hehe, also not to spoiler much but she will definitely have a soft spot for Eddie 🥰

I should write more scenes of her bullying Jason😂

I MADE YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH R??? I LOVE THAT

You want her to what? Share with the class, bestie 😌

I'm so happy that you like it so much already! And I figured it was you! ❤️

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 1

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Side Pairings: Female Reader x Multiple Pedro Characters

Word Count: 1000+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, fluff, confusion, fictional FBI procedures, no beta all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I love alternate realities and once I had this idea I thought it’d be fun to try and bring it to life. This fic is going to be extremely self-indulgent, but fingers crossed somebody out there will enjoy it too 💗

PART 2

You may not look it—bobbing your head along to the One Direction song blaring from your computer, shamelessly mouthing the lyrics—but you take your job quite seriously. You spend eighty percent of your day in the FBI’s collection of recovered museum artifacts and paintings, examining the items with careful, gloved hands and a pair of specially designed spectacles hanging from a chain around your neck.

You’ve worked as an archivist for the FBI’s art crime division for a little over a year. You spend your days cataloging, organizing, and filling out reports. It’s tedious work, but if not for this job you never would have met your boyfriend, Marcus Pike, one of the twenty agents in the division. As far as you’re concerned, the perks far outweigh the flaws.

“Hey, Specs, you ready to head home?”

You look up from your computer, locking eyes with Marcus standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in his usual dark blue suit, but after a long day’s work his dark hair has been ruffled by restless fingers, striped tie hanging undone around his neck, and overall looking eager to cuddle on the couch in your apartment and watch a Netflix documentary.

“Almost, Brown Eyes. Five more minutes.”

“Alright,” he says simply, nodding his head. He grins then, a heart-melting smile that never fails to unleash butterflies in your stomach. “How about I check if there’s any strawberry cheesecake left in the cafeteria?”

“Well,” you pretend to think about it, tapping your chin playfully, “it’d be a shame for something so delicious to go to waste.”

“You read my mind, sweetheart.”

He heads off towards the cafeteria and you shake your head at his antics, a soft, lovesick smile pulling at your lips. You’ve been dating Marcus for six months, but you’d been helplessly falling for him ever since your first month on the job when he started bringing you coffee in the mornings, stopping by to chat with you--sometimes bringing items for you to archive, sometimes just because he wanted to say hello--and offering to walk you to your car when you both were working late nights. You didn’t realize all his efforts had been his attempts at flirting until the bureau’s New Year’s Eve party when he’d admitted he liked you after one too many sips of champagne loosed his tongue.

You’ve never been happier than when you’re with him. It’s sappy as fuck to admit such a thing, but it’s true. Marcus makes you laugh and knows to give you space when you’re upset. He challenges you to take risks and supports you whether things go right or wrong. Most importantly though, he makes you want to be the best version of yourself. 

You turn to shut off your computer, only to stop when your eyes land on your workbench. Two days ago Marcus and his team had determined the location of a warehouse being used to traffic stolen artifacts, including marble statues and ancient pottery. You’re still working on examining all the contents of the haul, but one item stands out as especially unique compared to the others.

It’s oddly similar to a Rubik’s Cube. Same size, shape, and interlocking pieces. Except it’s entirely made of a type of golden metal you’ve yet to identify and it has strange symbols resembling hearts engraved in its sides instead of colored plastic panels. 

You pick up the cube and it's heavy in the palm of your hand, shining faintly beneath the overhead lights. Your eyes linger on the six different heart symbols: a broken heart; a heart with an arrow piercing it; a pair of hearts intertwined; a heart with a keyhole; a striped heart; and a heart entirely devoid of any pattern or accessory, simple and plain. You grew up loving puzzles, reading every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book you could get your hands on, and seeing the scrambled symbols has the gears in your brain turning.

“Doesn’t seem so difficult,” you say to yourself, a thrill of excitement shooting down your spine. You grab the top layer and twist it counterclockwise until you hear a quiet click of the piece locking into place and—

The walls of your office spin dizzyingly, colors blurring as if you’d stepped onto a tilt-a-whirl. For a split second you’re certain you’re going to be sick, stomach performing nauseating cartwheels, and then everything goes still once more. You stumble sideways, panting harshly from the sheer shock of it all.

“Oh, kriff,” you wheeze.

And then immediately wonder what the fuck does that even mean? The curse slipped off your tongue easily like you’ve grown up saying it, but you know that’s not true. 

...Right? 

Your unease increases tenfold when you realize you’re not in your office anymore. Looking around, your brain struggles to make sense of all the unfamiliar details: an abundance of crates covered in netting, a storage locker attached to the wall, the weirdest toiled you’ve ever seen in your life, and a ladder with—oh kriff—someone climbing down it.

The stranger drops down onto the floor with a resounding thud as his boots hit the metal. He turns to you, revealing a broad body clad in dark silver armor and a matching helmet covering his whole head. On his hip you notice a holstered, futuristic-looking pistol. 

Blaster, a voice quietly corrects somewhere in the back of your mind, freaking you out.

“There you are, cyar’ika,” he says, and you think you detect a note of relief intertwined within his modulated voice. His head tilts, somehow managing to radiate concern without a visible expression. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Your heart does a funny thing in your chest, but you pay it little attention because you know that baritone voice. You know it in the mornings while eating granola bars and sipping cups of coffee. You know it when it’s full of laughter after you’ve told a dumb joke and when it’s arguing over a bad decision your superiors made. You know it sweetly when it compliments you and intimately when it says your name between kisses.

Marcus, you mean to say.

But what comes out of your mouth instead is, “Din.”

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @absurdthirst @captain-jebi​ @leilei-draws @coaaster @pointy-sharp @stilllivindue2spite @melobee @artsymaddie @disgruntledspacedad @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @asta-lily @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @tacticalsparkles @cannedsoupsucks @mandocrasis @pedro4ever @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk @tobealostwanderer @recklessworry @pumpkin-stars @stevie75 @dumb-npc @roxypeanut @justnat15 @tintinn16 @princess76179 @grumpymuffinmama​ 

[alluringjae]

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)

⤑ playlist: fly away with me by nct 127 | all about you by taeyeon | doll by baekhyun and doyoung | give you my heart by iu | wait by exo | like a fool by nive and sam kim | falling by harry styles | lovers by anna of the north | fallingforyou by the 1975 | you are the sunshine of my life by stevie wonder

⤑ 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.” 

[sweetminx]

Hello, hello! It me! I have some exciting news this evening. I'm finally releasing Chapter 6 to Ghost Of Haddonfield! I apologize for the wait, I kind of struggled with motivation for writing recently, or more importantly wasn't really sure how to transition from the previous chapter to this smoothly and so on and so forth (Because spoiler alert, Jess is a dumbass who only plans chapter by chapter plots) but I got there in the end. Once I finally got into the swing of it I found my footing again.

In this chapter we see the return of one very special character, and now he's making it damn well understood that he's here to stay. Fuck around and find out.

Thank you again for your continued love and support and I hope you enjoy the chapter and all others to come!

Taglist: @megafrost4 @dead-bxtch-walking @sugarstarxoxo @ireallyhateithere2 @necas7325 @michaels-orange-mask @reyloisperfect @gore-loving-whore @vapurrrrwave @eldaryan @myers-meadow @goosecadet @liv-victoriano @mz-bats @myersobsessed @chaotic-am @utena-akashiya @macabrecakes Ask to be added to the taglist 💜

If you didn't catch it before, I painted a portrait of our lovely Michael without that pesky mask to hide his sweet face. Go check that out if you haven't already, it's the 📌 post at the top.

Universe/Fandom: Halloween 1978 (Non-RZ)   Rating: Mature/Adult. Minors keep your distance. Chapters: 6/?                                                              Chapter Triggers/Warnings: Strong language, Strong depictions of violence/gore, angst, knifeplay, blood-play/consumption, masochism/sadism, marking, possessive behaviour. Overall themes: Tension, Drama, Slow burn, Abuse, Strong Language, Past trauma, Manipulation, Strong depictions of Violence/Gore, Phsycological/ Physical trauma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mental Illness, Murder, Romance, Angst, Loss, Death, Comfort, Mild humour, Romance, Friendship, Fluff, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, mild Non-con themes, Knifeplay, Stalking, Marking, Obsessive/Posessive behaviour, Choking, Explicit Sexual content.    Reader details: Female, first-person perspective.   Characters: Female reader, Michael Myers (Non-RZ), Samuel Loomis, Laurie Strode, Jed Perkins  (Non-canon OC), Jamie Harris (Non-canon OC), Parker Reed (Non-canon OC), Josh Hewit (Non-canon OC), Erin White (Non-canon OC)

Ghost Of Haddonfield: Chapter six

It feels strange being home again, like you've been absent from such comforts for months although it's only been a few days. Everything is exactly as you left it several nights prior when Jamie had panicked and called you back to the asylum. It's not perfect, but it's a better atmosphere than the cold and emotionless walls of a mental asylum or hospital that you're slowly coming to despise. Right now home is your sanctuary and you'll be seeing a lot more of it for the foreseeable future, seeing how things at work have gone so very, very wrong. 

Taking time off was your best option, having already discussed the matter with the head doctor and manager who both surprisingly came to the same conclusion, agreeing it would be a wise decision given the fact that a major investigation is still being conducted into the lack of proper safety precautions and an unacceptable number of protocol failures being swept under the rug by head management. 

Jamie had even given you a heads up that police were currently requesting any survivors or witnesses to come forward about the incident. They'd undoubtedly want to bring you in for questioning seeing that you'd been one of the only people involved in the confrontation that ultimately left many dead and one paralysed yet alive, claiming you'd aided Michael in his path of death and destruction. You hadn't exactly been of much help to the police in your prior state; an utter mess of emotions unable to even remotely form comprehensive sentences. 

Nothing made sense. Why should it? When has anything ever truly made sense? Why does anything happen and why do people behave the way they do? 

Things simply went from bad to worse. Maybe if you'd stayed out of it and remained home from the beginning then everything would've turned out alright, moreso for yourself than anyone else. It isn't likely that much would've changed but it would have spared you all of those scenes that remain fixed in your head. You wouldn't have seen the hollow, dead stare of Josh, nor listen to the haunting wails of Erin as the life left his lungs. You wouldn't have been used as bait or bartering by Jed. You wouldn't have even been subjected to Michael's twisted sense of mercy. None of these things would have happened if you'd simply put the phone down, now you're paying the price for one small mistake. 

Your fingers curl around the blanket that wraps you safely in it's soothing knitted warmth, nuzzling into it tiredly whilst you rest on the couch and flick through the channels on TV whilst simultaneously attempting to stay as far away from local news channels as humanly possible, though fate still refuses to even remotely acknowledge you let alone side with you. Each time you settle on a channel it switches to an ad break, frustration simmering away steadily within your chest more and more with every passing moment. Eventually you give up flicking through the channels and decide to settle with the cheesy film station, questionably and blindly throwing the remote behind your head with irritation and listening as it clatters loudly against the hardwood floors in the lounge that leads into the kitchen.

It's not the TV your eyes finally settle on though but rather the window opposite of you that displays those moody noon skies painted in streaks of steel, pale blue and exotic Amber that peeks cheekily through the foreboding slate coloured clouds from earlier in the day that linger amongst the playful colours. The faint pitter patter of cold little rain droplets hitting the windows one after the other seemed to ease up as the October afternoon loitered. Soon the nights would be closing in even earlier in the day and the streets would light up even brighter than ever with the mischievous cheshire grins of carved Jack o'lanterns and playful strings of orange and purple halloween lights; glowing eerily and offering festive spooky beckonings to excited children dressed up for trick or treating with family and friends. 

A dumb smirk creeps across your face, staring blindly out of the window as the memories of your own childhood come flooding back to you. The days where you would obsess over planning Halloween parties with friends, plan each other's outfits, carve pumpkins, play amongst the massive and colourful heaps of red and gold leaves in the park. As you grew older work took more priority within your life, until eventually those favourite festivities became distinctly that of a distant memory. This year was supposed to be the one to change that and take back even just a tiny portion of those memories and make them reality once again, though after all that's happened you're beginning to question if you can even stomach the thought anymore. 

Perhaps in time things would become easier-kinder, even. 

You blink groggily, trying desperately to shoo away the fog that was beginning to take over your head again, similar to times when alcohol takes the wheel and slowly drives you into intoxicating yet blissful oblivion, but you haven't drunk a drop. It's as though every eye lash weighs more than it should and gravity has been turned up ten fold. You want to fight it, refusing to accept that it's bringing you to your knees so very easily, laughing in your face whilst pushing it's snake-like fingers into the back of your head; It's a losing battle. You plead for it not to take you again, back to that place of eternal night, subjected to the cruel clutches of mental torment; nightmares that fail to make sense, demons that first appear to you as angels before shedding their deceitful disguises. 

The fight finally ends, forcing you to bend to it's overpowering strength. Your head lolls and the muscles of your face relax slowly, releasing the tension of the day. Though the television blares in the background your eyes are almost closed and from your chest comes the first distinctly peaceful sigh before the world around you tenderly melts away into a murky and silent abyss.

If you refuse to sleep on your own accord, the body has ways of ensuring that eventually you won't have a choice, you don't get to argue and fighting back is futile. It rips you away from the wheel, even if only for a little while. 

After some time you begin coming around from what feels like a ten minute nap, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the blinding brightness of the TV screen that stung your eyes still playing before you catch sight of the small clock ticking quietly on the table. You squint at it blearily, sitting up and rubbing your eyes whilst picking up the blanket draped halfway on the floor. "Damn…" you mutter, realising what you thought to be a short nap had in fact turned out to be a two hour sleep. It was however the one occasion which you hadn't suffered from a horrific nightmare, though you don't recollect dreaming of anything in particular either.

For once it seemed that peaceful sleep found you and welcomed you with open arms as it rocked you to sleep in it's warm and merciful embrace. Grateful doesn't come close to what you might call yourself, but there's always the saying 'don't count your chickens before they hatch'. 

Your hand searches around on the table as you rub your tired eyes, blinking away the sleep and frowning in confusion after failing to locate the remote for your blaring TV before finally recalling how you'd thrown it in frustration. The sound of it hitting the hard wooden floors was the last thing you vaguely remembered before passing out, but it's not there when you look. "The hell? Could've sworn I threw it here," you mumble quietly, searching around the small area for a moment before huffing and grumbling once again to yourself, "Guess Milo mistook it for a toy of some sort." A cool breeze washes across your exposed arms as you wander into the hallway in search of the mischievous cat, shivering as the chilled air licks eagerly along the flesh and prickles each and every hair up straight. The house is usually kept warm and the windows shut.

A concerned frown creeps along your features as you traipse around to find the source of the unwelcome cold, following it straight to the bedroom to gaze upon the partially opened window dotted in clear droplets of rain. You blink, scrunching your nose upon approaching it and hesitantly shutting it. You can't remember ever opening a window, nor why you'd have any reason to, considering you grow cold rather easily. You shake your head dismissively before turning around to head out of the room but pause jarringly quickly, something catches your eye and your skin almost certainly turns five shades paler. 

The perfect outlines of a pair of shoe prints, damp and slightly mucky, stained on the floorboards just in front of the window, facing away from it rather than towards; They don't belong to you for the sole reason that you're barefoot and nobody's visited you since the hospital, up until now. There’s only one thing on your mind.

Get out.

It's a fight or flight response that can't be controlled, especially when you've now come to the realisation there's an unwelcome guest lurking somewhere within your very own home. Your feet waste no time in carrying you away from the bedroom and towards the kitchen, rounding the corner so fast that they nearly slide out from beneath you on the slippery floor whilst racing desperately for the kitchen. There's no time to react however when you abruptly find your entire weight crashing violently into the ground, hitting it with a heavy thud after having tripped on something-no, someone. It takes a moment to shake out of the dizzying shock of your body hurling into the floor at full force, grunting as a sharp wave of pain surges through your arms and knees that took the brunt of the collision. It's the sound of breathing that beckons your attention behind you, not your own however. 

You know them though, the very sound is one that still haunts you, plagues you within your sleep and silently mocks you whilst it watches your fear rot and twist into the stench of constant paranoia. It acts like shackles, binding you to it. It’s a knife in the gut slowly twisting or a constant hammer on the head. The anxiety is like being hooked up to a cattle fence; not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things incredibly uncomfortable. That's the downside of knowing things are awry instead of living in blissful ignorance. This time it isn’t the paranoia talking however, it’s the real thing. 

Heavy, slow footsteps inch daringly closer as you shove yourself from the ground and stagger towards the kitchen counter and clumsily grasp onto it with trembling hands whilst reaching out for the backdoor handle to violently jiggle it only to find that it’s locked with the key nowhere in sight. A panicked string of profanities blurt from your lips as you rattle the door back and forth to no avail before finally whipping your head around behind you. The sight that greets you turns your stomach, unable to help the choked cry that tumbles from your lips. The ghostly masked figure of Michael stands idly in the wide open doorway from the lounge to the kitchen, his arms hanging either side of his hips yet clutching no weapon. He merely stands there and observes you, his pitiful prey now cornered and at his mercy, through the blackened eye holes of his mask where no light dares enter. His chest rises and falls with deep yet slow breaths beneath his damp navy blue overalls, seemingly having been caught in the rain showers from earlier in the day before letting himself in completely unnoticed. A deep set unease creeps up your spine knowing that he could’ve entered hours ago. 

Pressing your back into the edge of the counter harshly your fingertips search the surface from behind your waist to feel around for something to defend yourself with and daring not break eye contact with Michael for a single second. That’s all it would take for him to charge you and end you on the spot considering his sheer size in comparison to your own, even from a distance towers over you menacingly. Your fearful eyes watch as he begins to approach again, the sound of his boots thumping across the tiled kitchen floors until he pauses directly in front of you. 

Terrifying isn’t the right word, but more so an incredible understatement. He’s simply watching you, observing you beginning to slowly crack and split at the seams beneath his predatory gaze. Was it something that brought about a sense of morbid amusement to him? Could it perhaps have been the idea of how a cat that toys with a mouse for entertainment until it ultimately grows bored, kills it and moves on to the next best thing? 

Finally, your trembling fingers locate the wooden knife block placed on the counter from behind you, wrapping around the base of a knife before ripping it from the holder and swiping it quickly at him. He takes a swift step backwards, narrowly dodging the sharp blade as it comes hurtling past his masked face followed by another swipe, and then another, each being easily backstepped by Michael. You don’t know what your plan is against this brute of a man, all you know is that you want him away from you. After one last swipe of the knife Michael puts an end to your defiance and catches your wrist in his solid grasp with the tip pointing mere centimetres from his neck. He holds your arm in place with ease, tilting his head inquisitively whilst his hungry gaze burns into you from beneath hollow void-like eye holes. Struggling is useless and pulling away earns a harsh squeeze until the blade slips from your fingers and clatters to the ground, keeping you in place for another long moment simply as if enjoying watching the hope fade from those ever determined and stunningly bewitching shades of earth that glistened within your eyes. You swallow, narrowing your eyes at him darkly. 

“Do it,” you rasp to him, only met with the sound of his sharp, steady breathing. “DO IT!” You bark in his face, “If you’re going to kill me then just fucking do it!” A choice of words indeed, but perhaps not the correct ones. Just for a sheer second you swear the sound of a deep, almost guttural growl reverberates through his lungs and mask. 

Fascination soon becomes anger, or perhaps something more malevolent-Animalistic even, quickly overpowering and twisting your arm around your back then slamming you against the countertop and pinning you there with the strength of his left hand alone. It happens so fast your mind struggles to comprehend the disorienting movement. Michael presses his entire weight into your back and reaches overtop your head to pluck yet another knife from it’s holder; the steel blade shimmering menacingly and reflecting your face within it as he pulls it from the block with incredible precision as though he wants you to catch a glimpse of yourself within it’s mirror-like metal as a reminder of just what you had asked for, or rather demanded. He leans into you even harder, purposefully cramming your sternum and stomach against the cold counter top that so very cruelly burrows into the soft flesh to leave lines of faint purple bruising and all the while tilting his head whilst listening to the sweet sound of your pained grunts as they grace his senses. 

Humans crave things, naturally. To some, a sense of bliss may be gained from many things in life be it drugs, food, sex, or something else more peculiar in nature. Perhaps for Michael it’s the sense of power and control that he craves; a morbid pleasure in the idea of watching someone he considers to be lesser fight back or beg, scream or cry. He sees it all, senses every emotion that surges within your mind and body. Maybe it's what feeds him, some might even say that those emotions are his drug. It's hard to speculate the inner workings of such a being when you're once again at his mercy. 

Michael's hand snakes up your back to clamp around the back of your neck, pressing your face into the counter roughly as he leans over you; the ghostly white of his mask only visible from the corners of your eyes with the glint of the knife raised high in the air above his head. It feels familiar, as though you're experiencing some mild form of deja vu, remembering something similar happening within your nightmares; how the steel blade always reflected his mask in it. The last thing you would ever see before you die. 

You demanded this. This is what you wanted after all, right? 

He brings the knife down with every ounce of strength, but the pain never comes. No cold steel cutting into flesh and scraping against bone. You flinch, the loud crack of the blade plummeting into the countertop directly beside your face to perfectly mirror your terrified and tear fogged eyes. Michael keeps it firmly jammed into the surface, squeezing the handle until his knuckles turn a frosted white. 

Did he miss? No, no he's far too precise to have made such a daft error, he wasn't aiming for you. This was intentional. If he wanted you dead, you already would be. 

You clench your jaw as a cruel shiver creeps up your spine, still pinned with an unmoving strength that keeps your cheek pressed against the cold worktop for what feels like hours. His crushing grasp on your neck seems to loosen ever so slightly before completely releasing it and seemingly entwining his fingertips within each lock and strand of hair on the back of your head. 

It's only a mere moment of relief that ends with your face shoved down again, this time being grasped by your hair. It's not as tight as the way he'd clutched your neck but it's still far from a comfortable experience, although that may also be said for the entirety of the unfortunate situation. 

Michael remains still as he observes you like a hawk, silently revelling in morbid fascination and simply allowing himself to watch you tremble beneath his overpowering authority. He tilts his head in the slightest upon noticing that your eyes aren't focused on the silver steel blade lodged inches from your head but rather that of his masked face. It's a half defiant, half fearful or perhaps even confused frown. A curious head tilt is the more or less obvious action of him awaiting a response since you so clearly have something to get off your chest. 

There would be no point in attempting to agitate the man with words seeing as there's nothing to gain from such insolence. Afterall, he'd offered you his twisted sense of mercy back in Smith's Grove and is seemingly doing it once more against his worse nature. If it weren't for the fact he'd been so rough up until now then perhaps you'd have felt more inclined to show some gratitude.

You instead greet his wordless request with a spiteful scowl, holding his unseen gaze with your own bitter silence. He seems to catch on quickly, letting an irritated growl rumble up through his lungs before untangling his fingers from your scalp and backstepping a few inches to allow you some room to peel your face from the counter and finally face him again. Your apprehensive eyes squint, examining every detail from the slight aging of the white latex mask, to the old and fresh crimson stains that had soaked into the navy blue fabric of his attire, or the tiny round ruby beads splattered across his black boot-like shoes and most noticeably the six small, perfectly round holes scattered throughout the torso of his unwashed overalls still tainted with his own blood, blackened with age from many years passed. His close proximity offers a strange blend of smells; A mild, earthy dampness melding obscurely with metallic copper and natural body musk, noticeable yet not excessively offensive.

You stiffen the longer you stand in silence merely staring at one another before finally allowing a faint sigh to escape your lips, glancing at the knife still wedged into the counter then back to him. "You're not here to kill me...Are you?" You question with an uncertainty laced tone. No response. He's as silent as you'd predicted, his arms hanging loosely by his sides whilst his broad chest continues to rise and fall with every emotionless breath. 

Soft creases form between your brows as they knit together thoughtfully, trying to better understand the motive. Although, nothing is of consequence to someone so emotionally disconnected; motives become meaningless. Holding his stare becomes difficult, though having a completely mute monster of a man who towers over your own smaller frame would naturally feel intimidating, not to mention one who could change his mind in the blink of an eye. "I...I don't know why you're here. I have nothing to give, nothing to offer you."

It's as though a switch abruptly flips on in his head the second the words dared to leave your lips, perhaps to him it had come across as insulting. Michael's scar riddled hand, painted in faint patches of dried blood, swiftly snaps away from his side to roughly snatch your wrist and tug you closer to him, large fingers snaking around it to squeeze firmly yet not enough to cause any pain. The movement catches you off guard, causing your legs to stagger slightly from the sudden and harsh pull. You grimace under his clutch, wincing upon feeling the squeeze to your wrist tighten as a mute reminder not to resist, of course that's all it really takes to convince you to comply. It may be your house, but you're no longer the one in charge, that much is evident. 

Michael positions your hand between the minor gap left between your bodies, watching as your fingers unfurl to reveal the long peach tinted scar he'd left from before, still not quite healed. He gazes at your open palm for a few brief moments presumably admiring his handiwork like a perverse piece of artwork on display; he is the artist, the knife his brush and you as his canvas. The fingers encircling your wrist loosen until eventually releasing and trailing up the skin to graze along each knuckle then lightly cupping the back of your hand in his palm where he tenderly strokes the pad of his thumb across the large scar that stretches from the base of your index finger to the crease of your wrist. He slowly raises his head to meet your conflicted gaze, soft earthy irises swirling with confusion, pain and fear. Perhaps he revelled in that sensation though, those emotions, he craves them like a starved animal; a steady river of adrenaline coursing through his body and pumping itself throughout every vein and further fuelling that devious, bloodthirsty desire. 

Somewhere within the dark pits of the mask's eye holes you catch the faintest glimpse of a sinister pair of eyes staring back at you, deep into your very soul. Just for a moment you stop breathing, feeling your limbs become weak and fragile beneath your own weight. The realisation doesn't dawn on you until your feet begin moving, not of their own accord however but rather that of Michael gently guiding your back against the door until finally the gap between your torsos is almost completely nonexistent, his masked face mere inches from your own whilst one hand continues to clutch your palm, the other settled against your stomach as it encourages you backwards so you're pressed firmly against the frosted glass window of the door. 

It's a slow yet tender dance with a demon who disguises itself as a man, except now he's had your taste on his tongue he can't bring himself to be without that taste again; a sinfully divine flavour, one that haunts and mocks his mouth every time he lays eyes upon your precious, supple skin. Comparable to a plant without nutrients, a vampire without blood, a fish out of water, earth without oxygen...What happens then? What do you become? You starve, you die, you become nothing. What does a being do when it's low on nutrients? It rations what it has, savours and appreciates everything it has left regardless of how big or small that portion may be. 

The beat of your heart echoes and pounds within your frail ribs, barely able to contain it's mighty rhythm. What is this feeling? It's abundantly clear that he's not in fact here to kill you. No, it's far more complicated than you can comprehend. It isn't only your breathing that's changed pace-quickened, but Michael's as well. It's the sound of harsher, deeper breaths puffing through his mask and beating its warmth across your flushed cheeks through failing to push aside the lingering awareness of his fingertips leaving your belly and making a steady ascent up through the centre of your chest. It leaves behind a trail of warmth, setting every nerve alight that you can't extinguish even if you try to. You tear your gaze away from him, but his fingertips are quick to latch onto your chin and force your head back in his direction. 

You don't get to look away from the man who granted you the mercy to continue breathing. 

An irritable growl bubbles through his lungs as he watches you squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to bend to his demands. He'd been incredibly patient with you, but there's a limit to what he'll put up with and this is one of those moments. Michael grunts before releasing your hand from his own, reaching up to your shoulder and carelessly ripping the fabric of your top down over it to reveal the canvas of soft, untouched skin stretched over a solid round bone. His eyes fixate on it eagerly, allowing another somewhat hungry growl to pass his lips before giving you a last glance and tapping his fingers along your jaw in slow succession as though to offer you one final chance to obey his silent demand, but you can't. You can't bear to stare into that mask any longer or it'll drive you mad if you aren't already. 

A soft sigh escapes him, accepting your wordless defiance. You made your bed, so now you must lie in it. He releases your chin briefly before securing his fingers along your jaw in a brutally tight grasp that is sure to leave bruises, shoving your head to the side so you're forced to look in the opposite direction of him. Rubbery rustling greets your ears followed by the sound of something soft hitting the floor close by. The previously muffled breaths become clear and vivid, heating the crease of your neck as he leans in to ghost his lips across it. It's the very same sensation as what you'd felt back within the confinements of his cell nights ago, the slightest tiny prickles of gritty stubble scratching against skin.

That's not what frightens you however. It's the subtle upwards curve you sense when his lips press to your bare flesh that sends paralysing shivers through your limbs. 

He's smirking. Smug bastard…

Before your mind has time to properly process the grazing of his teeth against your neck you release an unholy shriek of agony as he suddenly bites down onto the ball of your shoulder, hard. You jerk back violently though his grasp on your jaw is solid and unshakeable, as are the teeth that sink deep into the bony flesh until it punctures and pierces easily through the flesh. Michael had already offered you numerous warnings only to be stubbornly and unwisely disregarded, and thus he took it upon himself to show you just what defiance earns. If it weren't for the fact that he wanted to hear your cries and pitiful pleas for his own sick pleasure, perhaps he would've clamped one of those suffocatingly large palms over your mouth to silence you. No relief or comfort finds its way to you and now you are to reap the consequences or your foolish actions. He bites into the flesh with ease, leaving behind deep holes from every tooth that grinds mercilessly against the bone only to glide his tongue over the burning, bloody cavities and further ripping horrific screams from your lungs the longer it goes on. 

You part your eyes as streams of tears cascade down your face, trickling from your chin and onto Michael's fingers to roll down his paling knuckles. The pain comes in roaring waves of searing fire, licking vile streaks of hot pain up and down the mutilated skin. The broken sobs and desperate pleas fall upon deaf, careless ears whilst predatory eyes soak up the enthralling expressions of your wide, open mouthed cries and red tear stained eyes. It isn't the playful, affectionate nip of a lover teasing their partner but rather that of a cruel beast who gratifies his own sick, selfish pleasure through the beauty of another's suffering. No amount of thrashing, crying, kicking, screaming or scratching convinces him to stop. It won't stop until he's satisfied, not until that bloodthirsty psychotic hunger is satiated.

Not until you understand that you are no longer the one in control. 

Perhaps the sleek steel blade of a knife would have been easier-cleaner. But this method is far, far more interesting and personal; He can feel every tremble, every shiver, every emotion. Such rich emotions-such divine agony. If the pain of others translated into power then he might as well be a god amongst many. 

After what feels like an eternity of screaming and begging for the pain to end, it does. Michael finally releases you, letting you slump to the ground with a heavy thump, dizzy and starved of oxygen from holding you so tightly that his fingers had slowly migrated down to encase your throat, thus restricting the ability to scream or even breathe adequately. He only stops just as you're on the verge of passing out from pain and lack of air. It had been a far worse experience than what you could've possibly imagined. The cruel points of his teeth abandon your mutilated arm that throbs violently, dragging the soft, damp tip of his tongue up the dark dribbles of crimson trickling from every aching incision before licking away the excess from his lips and teeth. His bloodthirsty half lidded gaze never left your face for the entire time, at some points even allowing a faint growl to leave his lungs the harder he bit down. 

A trembling hand comes to cradle the wound, hissing loudly as your fingers ghost over the deep tooth punctures and coat each finger in warm streams of blood. Even after experiencing just one of his twisted and excruciating methods of 'persuasion' you still can't bear to look up at him who towers above your slumped figure. You know he hasn't put the mask back on yet seeing as though it's laying only mere feet from you, though he approaches it after a moment and bends down to pluck it from the floor and refasten it over his head once more. By now it's an understatement to claim that you're confused and afraid-but rather bewildered and terrified. Even after all of this, you still don't understand what he wants nor why he has invaded your home. 

"What do you want from me?" You ask weakly, struggling to form the words from the dry burn that crept up your throat, now desperate not only for precious water but painkillers. Perhaps in hindsight it was a ridiculous question, but one you still so terribly want confirmation on. 

Michael cranes his head down at you and gazes at your pitiful mess of a self splayed against the door, simply letting the sounds of his breaths be the only response you hear. As far as anyone knows he hasn't spoken a single word since childhood and intends to keep it that way. If he can't get you to understand now, then he will make you understand in whatever way it takes. Persuasion can always be achieved very easily even without words. 

He reaches out and snatches up your wrist, yanking you to your feet in one swift motion before turning it over to reveal your scarred palm to him again, then turns to his right, leaning over and plucking the knife still standing proudly from the counter he had previously stabbed it into. Michael offers out his own palm-the same hand he cut you on, then drags the shimmering steel blade across the length of flesh just as he had done with you from finger base to wrist crease, cutting through the skin with ease. 

It's a shocking sight, catching you off guard. At first your eyes widen in horror, watching as he purposefully glides the blade through his skin yet refuses to even so much as flinch or groan. Utter silence, frightfully detached from all sense of emotion. 

He then takes your hand again and presses the freshly opened wound to your identical scar and holds it there briefly, allowing his fresh, warm scarlet to stain your flesh before letting go and pushing the bloodied palm to your chest-directly over your heart whilst his other hand, still clutching the knife, guides your own hand overtop his heart. Michael tilts his head at you again as though to ask 'now do you understand?'

The wounds are utterly identical to one another. Now he has your attention, your scent, your taste and most of all...Your life. Perhaps it's a game to him- one that he plays incredibly well, or perhaps there's something more to all of this insanity. He'd only demanded one thing of you after all, and now he has it secured and bound by blood and the wordless promise of commitment.  

Your cooperation. 

[dathen]

Saw a truly vile taker earlier so I have to write about the differences between asexuality and desexualization or I WILL explode on a molecular level.  This is gonna be long because I’ve been angry about this for Many Years and can’t take it anymore so BUCKLE IN.

There’s a popular attitude that asexuality + any other marginalized identity or experience is a sort of Forbidden Combination because it inherently “desexualizes” that identity.  This is a viewpoint that has drawn language from some genuine discussions of desexualization, but has been twisted and hyped by acephobes and exclusionists to the point where even people within those groups are afraid to write or headcanon characters that are asexual + disabled, female, a person of color, neurodivergent, mentally ill, trans, etc.

First and most importantly:  I cannot even put into words how damaging and stifling this is to those of us who are one of these “forbidden combinations.”  There’s this level of shame that often comes with the territory that often walls us off from more generalized positivity and support.  Acting like imagining or writing a character that resembles us is a Sin (tm) makes this SO much worse.  

For example, I am ADHD, most likely autistic, and asexual.  The first time I ever felt free to explore the idea of a character who is both asexual and neurodivergent was with a canonically asexual character, and it was the most remarkably freeing and exciting experience.  In my experience, having an ace headcanon for a character that even hinted at neurodivergence would get you dogpiled with accusations of ableism, so I avoided it for years and years out of fear--but I could FINALLY write about someone who resembled me!  I could finally explore how those two sides of me interact and interconnect!  I hate knowing that the reason why it’s more accepted to start with the ace character and add other headcanons was because of this idea that asexuality is a demeaning identity (conflating it with desexualization, which I’ll get into later), but regardless it’s been a great time.

...And now I’m seeing people insisting that, no, even if you’re starting with a canonically ace character, adding a headcanon for another marginalized identity is also bad and “desexualizes” that identity.  Now it’s a “these two things are never allowed near each other” rather than just “ace headcanons are bad for anything but a white, able-bodied, neurotypical, able-bodied, cishet man.”

All of the above completely disregards the actual execution of the writing for a harmful and lazy attitude of “never allow these two identities near each other.”  But execution matters.  Learning what desexualization actually is, and not treating it as a synonym with asexuality, is vital for undoing these attitudes.

Why is desexualization harmful?

This is highly summarized, but the gist is: 

- Infantilizing the person, treating them like they can’t be a consenting adult in a sexual situation.

- Depriving the person of agency, which ties into the above issue of treating them like they can’t consent.  This is also an overlapping issue with oversexualization, which treats a person like a sexual object regardless of their input.

- Treating the person as undesirable; the disgust reaction of “I hate imagining this person in a sexual/romantic situation, so let’s just wall them off from the possibility completely”

- In fandom, a character being dismissed or sidelined in circles that focus on romantic/sexual content.

These are also terrible things to portray about asexual people.  If the execution of an asexual character or headcanon includes the above, it’s demeaning and acephobic!  But if an asexual depiction does not include these elements, it is not desexualization.  

I want to keep this post fandom nonspecific since this is an issue EVERYWHERE I went, but the character in question for the “you can’t headcanon him as anything but white or it’s desexualization” accusation I saw (ironically written by a white person) a) is an adult, b) has confidently set boundaries for sexual activity, c) is unabashedly portrayed as receiving romantic interest & desire for the entire course of the show, and d) is the main character and almost always centered in fanworks.  It’s practically a checklist for why the above wouldn’t apply.  But with this lazy, harmful approach of “asexuality can’t be combined with any other marginalized identity,” it still gets the “problematic” label slapped on it.  And let me tell you, the asexual PoC in the discords I’m in were NOT happy with that post telling them “just :) think about why this is wrong :))”

TLDR: Before you accuse people of “desexualizing” a character by combining asexuality + another marginalized identity/experience, learn what desexualization actually is.  Learn how those elements also harm asexual people.  Embrace the reality that asexual people of many backgrounds and experiences exist, and we deserve the right to be portrayed and portray ourselves.  Learn the difference between a positive portrayal and one done to dismiss or demean a character.  And SUPPORT ASEXUAL PEOPLE instead of treating us like a demeaning identity.

[gimme-mor]

ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN AND THE CONCEPT OF CHOICE

*DISCLAIMER*

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the behaviors and comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter, and, more importantly, bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

As someone who has been a long time lurker on all sides of the ACOTAR fandom, the growing toxicity and hostility has become more apparent to the point that civil discourse is, for the most part, entirely lost. More times than not, the cause of the communication breakdown centers around Elain and the relationships she has with those around her. Before and after the release of ACOSF, I’ve noticed that when the fandom expresses its opinions about Elain and her development as a character, whether in a romantic light or generally, the conversation wholly hinges on the concept of choice. Common examples I’ve seen include:

Elain has been stripped of her choice for a majority of her life

Elain should be able to make her own choices

The King of Hybern took away Elain’s choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron

Elain did not choose the mating bond for herself, instead it was forced upon her

Elain feels pressured to choose Lucien

Elain should have the choice to stray away from what is expected of her

Elain and Azriel being together represents a different and stronger type of love because she’s choosing to be with him

If you ship Elucien, you’re not Pro-Elain because you’re taking away Elain’s right to choose who she wants to be with and forcing her to accept the mating bond

Elain chose to accept Azriel’s advances in the bonus chapter 

When Rhysand called Azriel away after catching him and Elain together, Elain was stripped of her choice to be sexually intimate with Azriel

When Azriel and Rhysand are talking in the bonus chapter, Elain’s choices aren’t at the center of their conversation

If you suggest that Elain should leave the Night Court, you’re stripping Elain of her choice to remain with her family

If you suggest that Elain should be friends with someone else, you’re ignoring Elain’s choice to be friends with Nuala and Cerridwen

Why is the concept of choice exclusively tied to Elain and everything surrounding her character while simultaneously ignoring that other characters in the ACOTAR series have, to varying degrees, been stripped of their choices at some point in their lives? And why isn’t the concept of choice connected to these characters in the same way that it is connected to Elain? For example:

Did the High Lords strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they turned her into a High Fae?

Did Tamlin and Ianthe strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they started to control every aspect of her life in the Spring Court?

Was Vassa stripped of her choice when the other Mortal Queens sold her to Koschei, which resulted in her being cursed to turn into a firebird?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to know the risks involved in the pregnancy?

Did the King of Hybern strip Nesta of her choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron?

Was everyone stripped of their choices under Amarantha’s rule?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to just be a daughter and a sister when the Archeron family failed to contribute to their survival, which resulted in Feyre being the family’s sole provider?

Did Lucien’s family strip him and Jesminda of their choice to be together when they killed her because of her status as a Lesser Faerie?

Are Illyrian females stripped of their choice to consent when their wings are clipped?

Did the Hybern general strip Gwyn of her choice to consent?

Did Ianthe strip Lucien of his choice to consent? 

Did Keir strip Mor of her choice to consent to her engagement to Eris?

Universally, femininity is synonymous with weakness and women often face discrimination because the patriarchy is part of an interactive system that perpetuates women’s oppression. Since the ACOTAR universe is set up to mirror a patriarchal society, it’s clear that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. The thing that sets Elain apart from other female characters in the ACOTAR series is the fact that SJM has portrayed Elain as a traditionally feminine character based on her actions and the ways in which Elain carries herself. Compared to them, Elain is inherently held to a different standard because her femalehood takes precedence over other aspects of her character in fandom discussions. These conversations indirectly place Elain on a pedestal and hail her as the epitome of traditional femininity; and when her character is criticized in any way, it’s seen as a direct attack against women, specifically women who are traditionally feminine. Also, these conversations fall back on Elain’s femaleness when analyzing her character since it can be assumed from a reader’s perspective that Elain, despite being the middle sibling, is coddled by those around her because her ultra-feminine nature is perceived as a sort of weakness in need of protection. However, the fact that the concept of choice is used as an argument to primarily focus on Elain’s femalehood highlights the narrow lens through which Elain, as a character, is viewed. It implies that Elain’s femaleness is all her character has to offer to the series overall and insinuates that Elain’s character development is dependent on her femaleness. To suggest, through the choice argument, that ACOTAR’s patriarchal society constrains Elain’s agency and prevents her from enacting her feminist right to choose while failing to examine the patriarchal structure of the ACOTAR universe and its impact on the female characters in the series, the choice argument ultimately falls apart because it shows that it’s only used to focus on Elain’s femalehood. Furthermore, the implication that Elain’s right to choose is, in itself, a feminist act in the series indicates that the concept of choice as an argument is used to promote choice feminism.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. Historically, feminism prioritized the voices of white women, specifically white women who were cisgender, able-bodied, affluent, educated, and heterosexual. But over the decades, the inclusion of women of color and other marginalized women’s voices has broadened the scope of feminism and caused it to take an intersectional approach when discussing social identities and the ways in which these identities result in overlapping systems of oppression and discrimination. On the other hand, choice feminism, a form of feminism, greatly differs from what feminism is aiming to accomplish. In the article “It’s Time to Move Past Choice Feminism”, Bhat states:

“Choice feminism can be understood as the idea that any action or decision that a woman takes inherently becomes a feminist act. Essentially, the decision becomes a feminist one because a woman chose it for herself. What could this look like? It could really be anything. Wearing makeup is a feminist act. Not wearing it is also a feminist act. Shaving or not shaving. Watching one TV show over another. Choosing a certain job over another. Listening to one artist over another. Picking a STEM career. Choosing to dress modestly or not. The list goes on. At first glance, there does not seem to be an apparent negative consequence of choice feminism. A woman’s power is within her choices, and those choices can line up with a feminist ideology. For example, a woman’s decision not to shave may be her response to Western beauty standards that are forced onto women. Not shaving may make her feel beautiful, comfortable, and powerful, and there is nothing wrong with that. Women making choices that make them feel good is not the issue. The issue lies in calling these decisions feminist ones. Choice feminism accompanies an amalgamation of problems‒the first being that this iteration of feminism operates on faulty assumptions about said choices. Liberal feminism neglects the different realities that exist for different women‒especially the difference between white women and women of color, transgender women and cis women, etc. Not all women have the same circumstance and access to choices, not all choices made by women are treated equally, and not all choices are inherently feminist” (https://www.34st.com/article/2021/01/feminism-choice-liberal-patriarchy-misogyny-bimbo-capitalism). 

Just as white feminism ignores intersectionality and refuses to acknowledge the discriminations experienced by women of color, choice feminism and arguments supporting choice feminism have, by default, made the concept of choice exclusionary. The individualization of choice feminism glorifies the act of a woman making an individual choice and, by extension, gives the illusion that women’s liberation from gendered oppression can be achieved by enacting their rights to make personal, professional, and political choices. Herein lies the problem with choice feminism: it (the argument of “But it’s my choice!”) stifles feminist conversations from exploring the depths and intricacies of the decision making process because it’s used as a way to shut communication down entirely, shield arguments from criticism, and condemn those who criticize choice feminism for its disconnection from a larger feminist framework. Contrary to what choice feminism advocates for, it lulls the feminist movement into complacency because women’s individual choices do nothing to alleviate gendered oppression. Choice feminism’s leniency towards choice fails to address the limitations of choice in regards to women’s intersectional identities and enables society to shift the blame of women’s oppression away from the societal and institutional structures in place to women themselves for making the wrong choices that ultimately resulted in their circumstances. Choice is not always accessible to every woman. For instance, choices made by white women are, in some way, inaccessible to women of color, in the same way that choices made by cisgender women are inaccessible to transgender women. Choice is one of the founding concepts of the feminist movement and it “became a key part of feminist language and action as an integral aspect and rallying call within the fight for reproductive rights‒the right to choose whether or not we wanted to get pregnant and to choose what we wanted for our bodies and lives” (https://www.feministcurrent.com/2011/03/11/the-trouble-with-choosing-your-choice/). When choice, in a feminist context, is framed as something that is solely about the individual as opposed to the collective, the feminist foundation on which it stands “leads to an inflated sense of accomplishment while distracting from the collective action needed to produce real change that would have a lasting effect for the majority of women” (https://www.jacobinmag.com/2017/03/i-am-not-feminist-jessa-crispin-review/). 

By linking the choice argument with choice feminist rhetoric and extreme acts of progressiveness, it plays into today’s negative understanding of a social justice warrior and normalizes fake wokeness. In its original conception, a social justice warrior was another way to refer to an activist and had a positive connotation; nowadays, the term carries a negative connotation and is:

“. . . a pejorative term for an individual who repeatedly and vehemently engages in arguments on social justice on the Internet, often in a shallow or not well-thought-out way, for the purpose of raising their own personal reputation. A social justice warrior, or SJW, does not necessarily strongly believe all that they say, or even care about the groups they are fighting on behalf of. They typically repeat points from whoever is the most popular blogger or commenter of the moment, hoping that they will ‘get SJ points’ and become popular in return. They are very sure to adopt stances that are ‘correct’ in their social circle” (https://fee.org/articles/how-the-term-social-justice-warrior-became-an-insult/). 

Today’s perception of the term social justice warrior is directly tied to fake wokeness because both are performative in nature, fueled by the drive to be seen as progressive, and derail necessary conversations from taking place by prioritizing toxicity. According to the article titled, “Three signs of fake ‘wokeness’ and why they hurt activism”, it states:

“. . . social media did not create activism: it did, however, create a legion of hashtags and accounts dedicated to issues . . . Sadly, fake woke people will use these hashtags or create these accounts, see that as contributing to a cause, and just call it a day; these same people tend to shame those without the same level of interest or devotion to a given cause . . . Ironically, as open-minded as the fake woke claim to be, they struggle to deal with opposition. More often than not, those who fit the fake woke bill will ignore, misconstrue, or shutdown anything remotely opposing their stances . . . Now yes, human nature often leads us to possess a bias against that which contradicts our views, but human nature should not serve as an excuse for irrational behavior. Opposition to our stances on issues helps activists more than it harms: it allows them to look at the causes they champion from a perspective they possibly ignored before, further enlightening them. More importantly, by discovering information that may refute what they believe, they can find and eliminate any flaws in their reasoning and strengthen their arguments. Activism involves opening up to change, something one stuck in an echo chamber can never achieve” (https://nchschant.com/16684/opinions/three-signs-of-fake-wokeness-and-why-they-hurt-activism/). 

Rather than critiquing ideas, thoughts, and theories about Elain and her character development with textual evidence, the concept of choice as an argument is used to silence opposing viewpoints. This is similar to choice feminism because the conversations start and end with the concept of choice, leaving no room for a critical analysis of Elain’s character. Although the concept of choice as an argument is intended to shed light on how ACOTAR’s patriarchal structure limits females’ agency to some degree, the fact that it’s only applied to Elain invalidates the point of the argument because it doesn’t include the experiences of other female characters when examining the impact of sexism in the ACOTAR universe. The failure to do so calls the intent of the choice argument into question. As it stands, the concept of choice as an argument frames Elucien shippers and those who are critical of Elain as woman haters, misogynists, and anti-feminists, especially if they identify as women. The belief that a woman is anti-feminist or a woman hater any time she dislikes another woman suggests that women have to be held to a different emotional standard than men. If men are able to dislike other individual men without their characters being compromised, why can’t women? Feminism and what it means to be a feminist do not require women to like every woman they encounter. One of the many things feminism hopes to accomplish is granting women the same emotional privileges afforded to men. 

Terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. The personal weaponization of social justice and feminist concepts is a gateway for people who oppose these movements to strip these terms of their credibility in order to delegitimize the societal and institutional impacts on marginalized people.

It’s important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces dismissive, condescending, and problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate? The concept of choice as an argument is extremely problematic because: it limits fruitful discussions about Elain within the fandom; enables arguments that oppose opinions about Elain and her narrative development to masquerade as progressive by pushing social justice and feminist language to their extremes; normalizes the vilification and condemnation of individuals who are either critical of a ship, Elain as a character, or prefer her with Lucien; encourages an in-group and out-group mentality with differing opinions about Elain’s development resulting in politically charged insults; exploits social justice and feminist terms; ignores that harm done on a micro-level is just as damaging as harm done on a macro-level; and cheapens Elain’s character and her development.

There is more to Elain than her being a female who is traditionally feminine. Elain has the potential to be as complex of a character as Feyre, Nesta, Rhysand, Lucien, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and Mor, and to reduce her character to her femalehood in fandom discussions is a disservice to Elain as a character, the ACOTAR fandom, and SJM’s writing. So I ask this: is there a reason why the fandom heavily emphasizes the concept of choice when discussing Elain that goes beyond a simplistic analysis of her as a character (i.e. using the concept of choice as an argument to reinforce Elain’s femaleness), or is the concept of choice used as a shield to prop up one ship over another?

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