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#anyway I just found out that they want to change their constitution to remove the right to an abortion
cupcake-complains · 1 year
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I constantly forget that Kentucky is a state. It sounds made up. Literally the only thing they’ve ever contributed is their fried chicken and you know what. Since Hawaiian pizza isn’t from Hawaii, KFC might not even be from Kentucky. Who knows. Google and Wikipedia could be lying.
(Also check out the tags for a cool, slightly profanity-filled essay (read: rant) on abortion)
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thessalian · 7 months
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Thess vs Annoyances
Update on the scaffolding: Bleeeegh.
One thing I noticed before I went out to run my errands is that the workmen had to fasten part of their scaffolding to my balcony rail. I found this out because they had knocked two of my plants (specifically my cayenne peppers and my recently moved lemon balm) off the balcony rail to make room. Now, keep in mind that they were on a level with my windows, which were wide open. They could have knocked on my window and asked me to move my plants. They also could have apologised for knocking my plants over. They did neither of those things, so I only noticed when I looked out and noticed the plants on the ground. Thankfully neither were damaged, but I'm still pissed. If you potentially damage someone's property, you fucking apologise at minimum.
Anyway, they spent a few hours putting up the scaffolding. I'm honestly not sure what else they did, but it got very quiet after they finished that part of things. Given they're apparently supposed to be removing a railing, I'm pretty sure it would have made some noise if they did that part of the job, so I'm not sure they did. Either way, they left the scaffolding up, and now it's the weekend, so it's clearly going to stay there until at least Monday. I really hope they at least take it down on Monday because if they tear this shit down next week when I'm trying to work, I will not be impressed.
At least the scaffolding isn't blocking any breeze that might want to come in from outside. Of course, the only reason for that is that there is no breeze from outside. Apparently it's going to be in the low 30s C today (so pushing 90F) and while I won't get into the "different things constitute a heat wave for different people" argument again, I will flag up that this is September. It is not supposed to be this hot in fucking September. We had a fairly cool August and then WHAM - heat wave just when the kids are going back to school. None of this is right, and the next person that says "climate change isn't real" in my presence is getting the clue-by-four.
So yeah, it's very hot and there's very little relief from said 'very hot' and this has made sleep a struggle, and my lovely view is blocked by scaffolding that nobody fucking warned me about, and I am not in a good mood.
I have a feeling that a lot of today is going to be me being made of grumpy, hydrating, and staying out of the Evil Daystar. Oh well. More Baldur's Gate 3 for me. I'm at least a little less underslept than I was yesterday, so I have the spoons for that.
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alluringjae · 3 years
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all i do is wait - kdy
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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!
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.”
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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.
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Early 1990s
Nature decided to take heavier measures on you physically. On one of the monthly visits to the doctor, she noticed something off with the checkup and tests. Especially in the chest area.
“Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), I’m afraid that you have a growing lump in your breast.”
“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”
“If breast cancer is one of those though, then unfortunately yes.”
Areum was by your side that day, tearing up at her announcement. You, on the other hand, remained still and nodding at the truth. You’ve fought for a lot of things in your life, and you were so determined to beat this one.
Chemotherapy, medications, and scans are tiring and draining, but you managed to live for 2 more years. You’ve fully retired, and now and then, mentor the juniors with their cases. You’ve traveled to as many places as you can before the stages of cancer rose.
In your last months of life, you were bedridden in the most expensive hospital in Seoul, getting visits from Areum with her family, Jungwoo and Taeyong. As the latter served as definite friends to Doyoung, it was only natural to befriend them when they came into your life post-war. They supported Areum in any way they can too.  They’ve become a great company in your boring life especially in the hospital. Nowadays, Jungwoo loved sharing stories about his hyper grandchildren, who share similar traits to him, while Taeyong excitedly talked about his recent investment with a promising music company with the dream to debut talented individuals and go international in the long run.
“Mr. Lee Soo Man is dedicated to it! He hopes that next year, all his plans can start and be executed.”
“You’re always investing in start-ups, you know? You think this one will be bigger than the rest?”
“Music is universal, you know. Language barriers may be there, but music brings us together.”
Taeyong was always a delight to catch up with. However, you didn’t expect that conversation would be your last with him. A few days later, he suffered a sudden heart attack and passed. This was a sign that your time was coming. Your body falling more and more feeble every day as the disease fully took you over at night, the monitors always going on a high every so often.
It’s only a matter of time before you leave this life, and looking back, you’ve lived a tough yet productive life. Your daughter was happy and thriving in her career and family. You helped families and couples from their abusive households. You defended those with loved ones who were murdered, robbed, and lied to. You ticked off all you wanted to do beforehand.
Areum made sure to visit that night specifically as soon as she could. With your recent test results have been failing, her gut feeling kept insisting.
It’s a good thing she did.
Meanwhile, it was another day of work for Doyoung, just returning a bunch of books in their respective shelves after some teenagers left on the table. Before that, he bid Taeyong goodbye in the tunnel. It’s always nice to see a familiar face, so he couldn’t miss out on it. He shared any life stories he had with you, updating him about your state. Doyoung knew about it beforehand, and as selfish enough to look forward to it, it pained him to know you’re suffering. He only hoped you could fight through it.
“Doyoung-hyung!” Someone suddenly shouted, but he was shushed by an old lady reading her romance novel, who pointed at the sign that read “Keep quiet in the library”.
Doyoung was also annoyed, instantly nagging on the point person. “Kun! Can you read the sign? Jeez, this isn’t the first time so please-”
“(Y/N) is going off the monitor.” He blurted out. The news from one of the nurses he befriended buzzed through his phone. After finding out about his story, he wanted to help Doyoung especially when he was still alive. Doyoung may a part of the staff, but he’s still a guest. He dropped everything in his hands. Before he could race to the hospital, he changed into a specific outfit for this occasion.
This was it.
Areum was the only one by your side of your hospital bed, weeping due to your weak state. You didn’t want your other family members to witness this crucial moment. It stung that you’ll miss out on the futures of your grandchildren, but you were satisfied to just be a part of their lives. All this machinery trying to sustain your life served its purpose, but the illness you’re fighting was stronger.
“Mom....” Areum sniffled in her handkerchief, holding on to your boney hand. “I’m not ready for you to go.”
“Oh, Areum.” Your thumb caressed her soft palm as reassurance. “You grew up so well. An independent woman you are, you are so loved.”
“Mom, please....” She begged. “I can’t lose you too.”
You will never know how Areum held in her sorrow of not being able to grow up with her father. She hated the feeling of being fully abandoned. She wanted things and people to return to her, but she can’t make that choice. Being by her side all her life, losing you will be the hardest struggle she’ll have to face.
“Areum, you must understand...” You paused as a pang of pain in your chest stabs you. After a minute of enduring it, you continued. “...We are put on this world for a specific time. And if we’re called to leave, we must face it.”
She whimpered whilst holding on to your hand. She really thought you can get through this one like the rest, but your hair has gone, your body lost much weight, and your eyes lost their light.
“Mom, are you happy? You’ve fought through so much to get where you are. I can never do what you did.”
“Y-Yes, I am.” You stuttered, gracing a promising smile. “I had you, our families, and your father watching over me..”
The dreams you get on your birthday were fairytale-like stories that pushed Areum to become an author. She denied how unrealistic and supernatural they were at first. Another trait of Doyoung she got. However, when she noticed how wider your smiles are and energetic you get in the mornings after rather the feeling of distraught, she reckoned to believe they were something special. Despite knowing your love story and its downfall, she felt exhilarated at the things you and her dad did there. In a way, it brings him closer to her. But she still had that void.
“I envy you for that, mom. I wish I met him or at least came to me even if I least expected it!”
Oh, little did she know about that time in the bookstore back in the 70s. It was not coincidental; you and Doyoung planned it very well. You just played along to her complaint, alerted that this wasn’t your story to tell at this time. “Forgive your father just this once, okay? He never wanted this kind of fate for any of us. If one thing stayed constant in those dreams, it’s him always asking how you are doing.”
Her tears become uncontrollable, allowing herself to get puffy eyes and let it all out. “When you see him, please tell him I’m sorry and that I love him no matter.” “Oh, Areum. He knows that, so don’t worry about it.”
The clock was ticking for Areum before she’ll be asked to leave. With you bringing up her father again, she had one last question. Her courage to ask it was so little when she was young in fear you sulk and break down. It hurt her when the bad parts of your past tormented you.
“How much do you miss him?” The question put you in a point of self-reflection. The only person you’ve opened up to talk about him in detail was Areum. Even with your friendships with Taeyong and Jungwoo, there were some things you never disclosed with them. And never did they force you to answer because they can read you on the back of their heads: you’re still heartbroken, yet remained devoted to him.
“I miss him so much that even if this became my fate for accepting his notebook back in our university days, I would foolishly do it all over again. In those times he was no longer with us, it taught me to appreciate what and who we have in our lives because tomorrow is never guaranteed. From his impact, I learned to take care of myself again so I can take better care of you. I’m grateful you were born; he left a piece of him for me.”
“You’ve suffered so much, mom. I hope you can rest peacefully.”
“Thank you for never leaving my side, Areum.” A few tears escaped your eyes, infectious to your daughter’s gloom. “I love you.”
Meanwhile, Doyoung was right outside viewing you and Areum sharing your last conversation and goodbyes. As much as he looked forward to reuniting with you, he didn’t want to leave his only daughter alone. The deities should have shown her more mercy. Still invisible, he observed how Areum trembled when she heavily closed the door of your hospital room. Covering her sobs with her handkerchief, she took one last look through the small glass of the door. You dove into a deep sleep that would then be unawakened.
“I hope your next life is happier than this, mom, and you can cross paths again with dad and grow old with him too.”
Doyoung’s urge to show himself to his daughter to console her was overpowering him, but he restrained himself this time. A few hours later, your consciousness was faltering. Your five senses were losing touch one by one. Important memories of your long life played in your mind. Then your heart gave in and stopped beating. The doctors present there have pronounced you dead. The transition from your body to your soul watching it be covered by a blanket by the nurses was swift yet strange. You didn’t know where to go and what’s next. No book prepared you for this nor can you ask the doctors what to do. Standing there lost with so many questions, it only took someone’s enthusiastic calling for your name to soothe you down.
“(Y/N)!”
It hit you instantaneously that when your day comes, Doyoung would call for your name. Your old age and past illness really affected your memories. He was an honest man and kept to his word this time.
And there he was, just along the hallway.
This was no longer a dream.
This novel kind of exhilaration got you moving your feet, still sore and slow because you were still an old lady.
“Doyoung!”
You shouted back, over and over again before your boney hands slid open the door. At the same time, your old figure drastically and permanently transformed you back to your active twenties. Nothing physically hurt anymore and your energy was on an all-time high. Your room was the last on the floor, a dead end. The left side of the hallway was just a closed window pane.
When you stepped outside and turned to your right, there he properly stood. He wore the same suit and suspenders combination on the day he approached you on your bike. The actual soul of Kim Doyoung who was no longer behind the phone. No matter how many times he’s seen you from afar, it makes him lose his breath from the captivation. For once, he can see you without barriers.
You just realized how you were dressed back into the floral dress on the day you had your first proper conversation. It’s like you’re meeting each other again for the first time. The beeping sounds of the monitors, wheelchairs moving, and chitter-chatter exchanged by doctors went mute. Stunned, you couldn’t stop looking eye to eye at him, cherishing this special moment.
It finally processed to Doyoung that his patience and efforts paid off. In this journey of acceptance, while enduring its trials, it added up to this sweet result to be reunited with you. The adrenaline rush took control of your limbs, legs running to him on the other side.
As his arms widened for a hug, he spun and picked you around in the air. His arms firmly wrap around your waist while your head snuggled on top of his shoulder. You felt safe, warm, and alleviated. Once he put you back down, the overwhelming joy wasn’t keen to pull away from your lover. Doyoung’s lips somehow got closer to yours, your heart skipping beats and his familiar scent intoxicating your thoughts.
With Doyoung still having you wrapped in his arms, he took his awaited chance to close into your parted lips. The fluttering in your stomach was on overdrive, your entire body reacting immediately from his passion. One hand curled into a fist on the hem of his buttoned top while the other rubbed the back of his head. Your legs almost gave in, but with Doyoung’s strength, he held you tight. No previous kiss felt like this. You didn’t have to worry about getting caught by adults for such a provocative display of affection. Your roommate wasn’t going to splash water if she catches you getting frisky on campus. As for Doyoung, he didn’t have to get paranoid about what his classmates would say about their relationship. You were both in your own world for a while.
But wanting to catch a breather from his thrilling dominance, your lips hesitantly moved away first. You took your time to get lost in admiring his features. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his dazed eyes, he was irresistible, to say the least.
This was how an almost 50-year build-up would end up to.
“My love, it’s really you,” You finally spoke, caressing your thumb on his flushed cheek. “You’ve been through so much.”
As lovestruck as he is, his pent-up tears streamed down instantly. Except they were tears of joy. All those years he held back.
“I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). I’m just happy you’re finally here with me.”
He wasn’t joking when he said that the main lobby alone was exquisite after walking through the city. Aside from Kun, that’s where he introduced you to other staff he worked with, such as Jeno, Jaehyun, and the boss herself, Manwol.
“This boy stayed very loyal, you know?” She commended Doyoung. It was a rare thing with her cold-hearted and aggressive personality. “He read to a lot of kids, taught some of them too, and recommended great books for the souls to read. He listened to a lot of souls who wanted justice then forwarded them to you so they can cross the other side.”
An honor to hear from the owner herself, you glanced at Doyoung with so much love. Such a giver than a receiver.
Beside Manwol was someone whom you aspired to meet. Unfortunately, you never met the other boys you’ve helped, so this was a great chance to see at least one before moving on. Hearing about his case and the treachery of it, you made sure to work on it before you retired, eventually passing it on to one of your trusted juniors. So far, his side was winning and that’s all you wanted.
“Jeong Jaehyun.” You held on to his clasped hands as he bowed to you.
“Attorney (Y/L/N). I’m so grateful for what you’re doing for me.”
“Oh, just call me (Y/N). By the way, your side is winning, my dear. Your younger brother Sungchan is committed to clearing up your name, and that evil Hongseok will rot in life imprisonment for his crimes.” You updated him. Without self-restraint, his arms gather you in for a hug. Jaehyun wasn’t much for affection, but this felt like the right circumstance. In return, you hugged him back.
“Thanks to you, Johnny and Yuta are resting in peace.”
“And you are next, Jaehyun. My junior taking your case is topnotch, so you’re bound to get what you truthfully deserve.”
After sharing such a heartfelt moment, you asserted your attention to Jeno. Not going to lie, you’ve looked forward to meeting this boy the most. He was there with Doyoung from the very beginning.
“Doyoung-hyung gets giddy after he makes a call, and tells me everything that you’ve been up to.” Jeno joined in. “He gets grumpy though too, so I like pestering him around to light him up. Oh, I’ll never know what you see in him, (Y/N).”
That gave him a joking slap on the shoulder by Doyoung, signaling to cut it out.  
“Hyung!” He fakely cried, hiding his face behind Jaehyun’s shoulder.
You suppressed a laugh, eventually sputtering out like an engine. Doyoung sighed, failing to redeem himself. But it’s alright. A simple peck from you on his cheek got him all flustered.
“Aish, take your romantic shenanigans when you’re in your room, not in my damn lobby.” Manwol cringed, the evident love bug getting on her nerves. “Alright, everyone. Get back to work!”
Checking in your room was an experience. Since you’ve been to numerous places through the dream calls, there was one main thing you’ve missed to do with Doyoung. As soon as he lifted you by your thighs and roughly shoved his tongue down your throat, you were in for a heated evening. This dominant side of Doyoung when it came to sex was completely fresh. After diving into more erotica over time, he learned about visual porn through Johnny and Jeno. You can say that he studied it very well.
“Almost 40 years of waiting, (Y/N).” He trapped you from above, sliding one of his hands to your bare breasts until it landed on your clothed core. Rubbing up and down your clit in a torturously slow place, he smirked at your desperate whines. Your breaths turned heavy, soaked by his actions. “Remember when I told you to brace yourself back then?”
“Shit, Doyoung...”
“Shush love, I’m in control now. So be a good girl for me, alright?” He growled in your ear, sucking on your soft spot on your neck. You obeyed that night, unbuttoning his shirt impatiently only to reveal his toned abdomen then lowering his crotch to give it a tight squeeze.
He hissed against your neck, pushing your panties to the side and sliding in your wetness.
“You are asking for it now, love.”
A steamy night it was, making up for all those lost years.
The following day, the struggle to walk was real. Jeno even pointed out your limping when you were roaming around the library Doyoung worked at. You never had a younger sibling, but he acted like one. So you punched him in the shoulder to shut up. “Jeez, you’re both so physical. Let me live!”
“Jeno, you’re dead. Don’t say nonsensical things.”
You learned how this hotel’s main purpose was to guide and fulfill the last wishes of ghosts in the living world before moving on. When Jeno asked you if you still have unfinished business, you realized that there is one thing left. Even if you completed your bucket list, that one thing is only possible through the hotel. You and Doyoung sat across Manwol, monitoring your shared dream call like she always did.
“Is this really the only thing you want to do here, (Y/N)?” Positively nodding, she gave you the signal to lift up the phone.
Areum found herself in an unfamiliar forest nearby a river during the day. Even she’s always like playing outside with nature in her childhood years, this location didn’t ring a bell. In fact, she was physically back to being that young girl with the same mature mind in this dream.
She wasn’t a vivid dreamer like yourself, forgetting them as so as she woke up. Even in that “dream” with her father, there were so many gaps. So for this one time, she can fully grasp her surroundings. This dream must have a purpose, she wondered.
While she followed the path that the dream assumed for her to take, she then clearly caught a glimpse of a younger you at the end of that path. Running around and laughing in the grass.
“Mom!” She called out, moving at a faster pace. It’s a good thing this dream brought her back her agility.
At the end of the path, it unveiled you lying down on the grass. Wearing in a dainty dress that reminded her of the 50s, there was an unfamiliar young man beside you. His head face planted on the grass because you pushed him off your body when he tried to tickle you.
It turned out that she arrived at your favorite spot with Doyoung. She’s only heard stories of things you’ve done and talked about her, but due to the war, their spot was devastated. Soon after, it turned into a small condominium building overlooking the river.
“Areum!” You squealed cheerfully to hear her much younger voice. She tackled you in a hug, and you still naturally felt it from where you sat.
“My sweet child,” You cooed in her, patting her back. “How are you?”
“It’s been difficult, but I’ll get by in time.” That was the first thing she managed to say, the grief being very much fresh. No mother wants to be separated from her child, and you weren’t exempted. But that is how life works: you come then you go. The truth tends to hurt.
It was obvious to Doyoung that you were still saddened by leaving Areum, taking this opportunity to give you space and finally interact with his daughter. No disguises nor distance. While the most important women in his life are still hugging in the dream, he pulls himself off from the grass and brushes away some leaves from his hair.
“Areum, I see you paid me back by having top-selling books for children.”
Areum peeked from your shoulder to check who the other man was by your side talking to her. Once he was clean from dirt and leaves, there was the only person he resonated with her. From pictures and stories shared by you, the actual man was with her.
Her actual father was in this dream with her.
“Dad!” She abruptly pulled away from you to approach her father for a bigger hug. You don’t blame her for that, she deserved to see her father even for a bit.
Years of having that empty void only for her biological father, she could care less at this very moment
Doyoung has never cried in a dream call with you, however, this long-awaited moment with his daughter resulted in him softly bawling while feeling her hugs from the chair. He’s proud and at peace to move on not just as your lover or a passionate university student, but as a father.
In their moment of content, only there did it make complete sense to Areum at the unusual memory during the ‘70s at the bookstore wasn’t random. It proved that he really did his best to reach out to her in any way he could.
“This whole time, you were the mysterious tokki. I just thought it was a coincidence. I’m so sorry, dad, that I didn’t notice you.” She sulks. Doyoung in the dream pats her back while lovingly rubbing the nape of her head.
“Oh, Areum. Don’t feel bad. I just wanted to see how much my little girl became independent and studious.” He replies, comforting the disheartened child. “I read all the letters you sent me during my birthday. I was touched then and touched now for this moment. I am proud of you, my daughter. And my love for you never changed.”
The affirmation in his words put Areum in a state of joy, rekindling that spark from the 70s. “I love you, dad.”
Your last mission in this world was to have a special outing with your complete family. Regret was always prevalent in the past, wanting to do this and that but never pushed through. But not in this dream. Just the three of you, happy and carefree from it all.
Unfortunately, Manwol just gave a hand signal that your time was almost up. Time flies by so quickly when you’re fully immersed in something you’re enjoying. Doyoung wasn’t capable to bear the bad news, but with you by his side, you helped him.
“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”
Areum sighed, reality seeping back into the situation. One sleep isn’t enough to make up years of loss. However, she still managed to remain positive in those circumstances. “I wish things worked out differently for our family, but who knows what our next lives will take us?”
In an instant, the two of you in the dream gave your daughter a big group hug. One she’s always yearned for. It’s moments like this where you mustn’t take anything for granted with your family.
“I’m happy you’re reunited with each other, mom and dad. Rest well.” She whispers with a smile, feeling fulfilled. She can grace the living world without wondering how things would be like with a complete set of parents anymore. This dream call successfully filled that empty void in her heart.
Once you’ve bid your final farewell and hung up the phone, you and Doyoung can say the same. A little bittersweet, but it lightened all the burdens in your hearts. The both of you can ultimately rest peacefully and move on.
The timing was perfect for Kun to inform you that the car taking you to the bridge leading to the afterlife was ready.
Jeno, Manwol, Kun, and Jaehyun didn’t want to miss out on this moment, waving farewells to you both. This lifetime may have taken you away from each other physically for a long time, but you still held on to each other. Most people gave up, though it’s not wrong either. It’s better to let go rather than holding on sometimes.
But the both of you were different, something, not even the deities didn’t expect. It’s only up to them to decide if they’ll give you another chance to be together and relive a longer life. A very rare sight indeed. To be granted or not, your story set a standard.
That a love so strong is so patient it endured all the challenges and stress.
“On to the next life, Doyoung?” You asked him, leaning against his shoulder as the car drove under the tunnel. All at the end of it was merely a white sky, where a long bridge awaited them.
“Make sure you wait for me this time.” 
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certifiedskywalker · 3 years
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Breaking - Din Djarin
Anonymous said: Hello, hope your having a good time wherever you are! May I request some mandalorian and the child with a gender neutral who wears a mask and fallows the same kind of never take it off rule? I just really like the idea.
AN: MAJOR SPOILERS for The Mandalorian, Season 2! Also, I stuck with the heart of this request, but I added a little bit more conflict and tension. 
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From the beginning, there had been one simple rule: never remove the helmet in front of others. In the earlier days, it was an easy rule to follow. Since you and Din were not blood-kin, you had separate quarters on the Razor Crest and never saw each other’s faces. While part of you wondered with a silent ‘what if’, bounty hunting killed any temptation to remove the helmet. If any client or target saw your face, it could be the end of your careers, of your lives. 
However, recently, your heart had changed while the rule remained the same. While you had not removed your helmet, you felt a storm brewing in your chest. Grogu made it difficult and, as you had watched Din interact with the Child, your growing feelings for your hunting partner made it all the worse. You never imagined that being faced with a goodbye would hurt you so or cause the storm in your heart to turn into a swirling vortex.
“That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind.”
Through the dark tint of your helmet’s visor, you watched as Din held Grogu in his arms. You walked up to the pair, completing the clan of three. Din turned to face you as you approached, but quickly turned his attention back to Grogu. The Child’s big eyes shifted between you and your partner as if he were trying to memorize the gleam of the lights in your beskar helmets. You heart ached at the hints of fear in his eyes.
“We’ll see you again,” Din murmured. Even with his voice slight modulated, you heard the strain in his voice. Over the years you worked together, you had picked up on Din’s different tones. There wer small faulterings on each word that told you he was close to breaking. 
You set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We promise.”
At your promise, you felt the eyes of everyone on you. Din and the Child were looking to you with hope, even the Jedi rescuer dressed in black eyed you. 
“Yeah, we promise,” Din echoed. 
Grogu cooed in response and you smiled beneath your helmet. Then, a moment after, a wave of bitter sadness rushed over you. To suppress the tears that gathered in your eyes, you reached a gloved hand out to Grogu and brushed the backs of your fingers against his little green cheek. He cooed again and, when you pulled your hand away, Grogu reached out.
His small, three-fingered hand knocked against Din’s helmet. It seemed the little creature was trying to replicate your movement. Only, for Grogu, beskar blocked his earning for touch. Even after cycles of traveling together, the Child’s curiosity about what lingered beneath your and Din’s helmets persisted. Neither of you bothered to explain the Creed, the simple rule, to him. Grogu’s path was going to lead away from your both anyway; so, why explain it?
Then the mission changed. Then you and Din grew closer and grew attached to the little creature he held in his arms. For a split second, your fingers twitched up, ready to lift the helmet from your head and meet Grogu’s eyes with yours for the first time. Possibly, the last time; but you didn’t, even as you heart began to break at Grogu’s whimper. 
You were about to tell him that you were going to miss him when, out of the corner of your visor, you saw Din’s hand lift. His finger gripped the end of his helmet and you turned as Din, your partner, removed his helmet. Your eyes widened at the sight of Din’s face; a face you had wondered about for years was finally exposed, stood at your side. 
He had brown eyes. 
Grogu cooed and reached his hand up again. He brushed his little green fingers across Din’s scruffy chin. Your heart shattered when Din closed his brow eyes at Grogu’s touch.
He had brown hair too. 
Grogu seemed to be reaching for it like a toy. Wild strands stood on end while other were matted down by the weight of the helmet; the weight of the rule. The weight of the Creed. Din opened his eyes and gave Grogu a small smile. He had a nice smile.
“All right, pal. It’s time to go.”
Another whimper from Grogu was enough to force you to peel your eyes from Din’s features. The Child looked as if he were about to cry but you were too in shock to give him words of comfort. You turned your visor back to Din and hoped he would say something. The moment you looked, you were lost in his face again. 
You had never seen a fellow Mandalorian cry. Helmets hid the face, fear, and smiles. Din’s helmet had hidden to you how much he truly cared. For, without his helmet now, Din’s eyes were rimmed with tears. He looked as if he were breaking. 
“Don’t be afraid.”
Din bent down to let Grogu go. The creature stood then, between you and your partner, with little hands gripping the material of your boots. You tore your eyes from Din once more and met the wide, frightful gaze of Grogu. Part of you wished to reach down, cradle him in your arms, and tell the Jedi to kiss the wrong end of a Snarlacc. 
But you were still too in shock, too caught up in Din’s brown eyes and breaking heart to do much of anything. You barely registered when an R2 unit whirred in and entranced Grogu. When you finally came back to your senses, Grogu was held in the Jedi’s arms as doors to the lift shut before them. Then, with Grogu gone, a new weight settled in.
You turned to face Din, whose gaze was already in search of yours. Worry was plain of his face. You were not used to reading it so clearly. Typically, you would have to study the walk he walked, leaned against the hull of the Razor Crest, or listen for the bite of his short tone. Without the helmet obscuring him, you could read him easily. 
You wanted to be angry. There was one rule and he had broken it. Yet, looking into his eyes, you felt your resolve finally shatter. 
“Y/N-”
“There will be time for talking later,” Bo-Katan snapped, her harsh order cut Din off. “We need to secure the ship and rendezvous with Fett.”
Koska and Cara took the order in stride. The two women picked up Moff Gideon and started towards the detention bay while Fennec busied herself with the navigation console. You nodded at Bo-Katan and turned your gaze back to Din. Concern still laced his features as you moved towards the bridge doors. As you went, you bent down and picked up his helmet from the floor.
“We’ll talk later,” you promised before you pressed Din’s helmet into his chest and left for a head-clearing patrol around the ship.
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You had been on cycles lone bounty hunting trips with Din before. You had fought off a band of pirates and only suffered a minor concussion. You had, recently, faced a Krayt Dragon on Tatooine and lived to the tell the tale. However, none of those feats were as exhausting as Grogu’s goodbye or as taxing as Din breaking the Creed.
It didn’t help that the cots on the light cruiser, ones made for Stormtroopers, were terribly uncomfortable. You were used to cramped quarters and stiff beds but the slab of plastoid you rested on hardly constituted as such. It also didn’t help that you hadn’t found Din or talked to him about what happened in the bridge or Grogu. As soon as you laid down, you felt restless. 
When you heard Cara come down, you sat up on your cot and eyed her through your visor. “Have you seen-”
“Cafe,” Cara said and she shot you a concerned look. “I know that the Creed is...is everything to you and...well. You both lost a lot today. Try to hold onto each other.”
In Cara’s face you could see a hint of regret. You imagined she was thinking of Alderaan, of all that she lost. Maybe she was thinking about a partner, someone special, she wasn’t able to hold onto anymore. You stood up and reached out for her shoulder. She looked to you as you gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Thank you, Cara.” 
With a parting nod, you made your way up towards the ship cafe. It took longer than expected. Grey hallways of Imperial cruisers all look the same after a few turns and too-similar hallways. Eventually, you found your way to the cafeteria. It was hauntingly empty.
Save for Din who stood, helmetless, in front of the large viewport. He was outlined against the darkness of space and the shining of stars. For a minute, you considered not approaching him. The tension would pass, if you both let it. Perhaps you both could return to normal, normal as in before Grogu. You could easily leave the Nite Owls to take back Mandalorian by themselves and continue hunting. 
Then you felt the storm in your chest swirl again, intensify. With it, you were spurred to motion and your feet began to move. Before you knew what you wanted to say, you were stood by Din’s side, helmeted face forward, staring out towards the stars.
“Where do you think he is?” Din’s question broke the heavy silence and you fought the urge to look up at him, at his face. 
“Sectors away,” you admitted, “but safer.”
“You’re right.”
Then there was silence again. It seemed to press against your shoulders and make the beskar of your helmet all the more heavy. Slowly, you craned your neck and peered up at Din through the visor. You could see, through the clear port of your helmet, Din’s brown eyes were already on you. He was looking right where he knew your eyes to be within the helmet.
“I’m sorry.”
Cara’s words echoed in your head and your heart ached at the sight of Din’s down turned lips. Lips you had tried to imagine before. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”
“I broke the Creed,” Din protested, “not for the first time and certainly not the last. Not...not now, not when….” 
Din trailed off and tore his eyes from you.
“I understand,” you continued. “I wanted to, too.” Din came to attention at your word. His eyes went on a mad search and studied your helmet for any sign of yielding. Of breaking. “I just, I’m not ready for it. You know, as a foundling, it’s all I’ve, we’ve, known.”
“Then the kid,” Din said, his voice soft. 
“Then the kid,” you agreed, “and then you.”
“Me?” His eyebrows raised, a reaction you had never seen before from him. You couldn’t help but smile from beneath your helmet. 
“You.” 
You reached over and pulled the glove from your right hand. Carefully, as if reaching out to a wounded animal, you lifted your bare hand to Din’s face. For a split second, he pulled away. Then, moments after, he leaned into your warm touch. Din’s eyes closed and, with a deep breath in, you relaxed along with him.
“I’m not up to breaking just yet,” you said as you brushed your thumb along the scruff of his cheek. “But I hope you’ll be with me when I do.”
You jumped when Din’s hand, also ungloved, reached up to hold your own. His skin was warm, warmer than you ever imagined, and softer too. The touch was enough to ease the storm in your heart, to calm you. Din’s eyes opened and he met your gaze through your visor.
“I will. This,” he tapped one of his fingers against the back of your hand, “is the way.” 
And you believed him, in that moment, this was a creed he would not bend. An oath, to you, that Din would not break.
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hale-13 · 3 years
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Zero Days Without Incident
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance
The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.
Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan
TW: Stabbing
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.
It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.
A scream sounded in the distance.
“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”
“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.
“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.
“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”
“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”
The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”
“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”
“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.
They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!’.
“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”
“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”
“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”
“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.
“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…
“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.
“Or something,” Peter agreed.
“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”
“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.
“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.
“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”
The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.
“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”
“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”
“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”
“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”
“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”
“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.
“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.
Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”
“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.
“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”
“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.
“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.
“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.
——————————————
“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.
“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”
“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”
“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.
“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.
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mari-vargas · 3 years
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Hey, I’ve got a weird one for you today. I want to tell the story of my favorite bully from when I was a kid.
Ya, like I said it’s a weird one.
I was bullied a lot growing up. I was quiet and didn’t really fight back over it. Honestly for the most part I didn’t care. It always felt worse for me when I tried to fit in, and I never succeeded anyways so basically my choices were “be comfortable and be made fun of for it” or “be uncomfortable and be made fun of for failing to do it right”.
Now I also have some blocked memories from bullying, so I can’t really speak to those, and I only know they exist because of an unconscious reaction to one bully approaching me and calling my name from behind while I was visiting my friend at my old school. This story is not about that however.
This is about the clique at the school I attended after that one. They were a group of mean nasty girls with money who’d pick on girls without, or would pick on you for going through puberty at a different rate than them, or for your opinion on who’s cute and who’s not or what should constitute a crush. They’d also pick on you for physical problem. One girl in our class was on crutches for months with a boot on one foot, and unfortunately she was already a target for this group because she wore her hair short and had started puberty long before anyone else (before I’d even started at this school).
There were two (and after one particular incident my opinion changed to three) especially mean girls, who I will refer to as K and M (the third is C). They would tear you down over every little thing. The thing about being the kind of kid I was, though, is that when someone is going somewhere to breakdown alone, they don’t really notice the quiet kid already occupying the hiding space due to their only two friends having a year long row with each other they didn’t have any business getting dragged into. As such I know that K, M, and C all had absolutely horrendous mothers, C had an unhealthy obsession with pleasing her father, K and M didn’t have great situations with their fathers (likely distant and mostly uninvolved), and K had some odd situations involving older siblings, and all three had stupidly high expectations placed on them—not about grades, but about appearances. So ya…I fully admit to doing the stupid thing and getting them to direct all their attention toward me and off of that one girl and away from my “friends” even though they’d basically disowned me. Because I mean really, I didn’t care what they had to say to or about me, their toxic opinions couldn’t really reach me. My friends on the other hand definitely tore me down. Their opinions did matter to me. So ya I was in a rough spot because of my “friends” and other stuff happening in my life but the bullies’ words really didn’t matter to me so I took it all on.
But this story also isn’t about me trying to say “ah yes I was strong against bullying ha ha ha!” I wasn’t, I just know that even back then I could tell whose actions were gonna affect me more. This is about one of the things the clique girls singled out on me and would’ve succeeded in actually tearing me down further than I’d ever been (again, in existing memory, because I have no clue what’s in those blocked memories and I don’t plan on ever disturbing them).
I have eczema, and a lot of triggers for it. The worst trigger to deal with though is stress. It’s not something I can remove like sugar or Red 40, it’s not something I can wash away like dust, not something I can soothe away with lotion and lots of water like dehydration. I have anxiety. Basically I’m always stressed. But anyways that year was a really rough year, with my friends fighting and my parents almost getting divorced and this was before my “twin” got her own phone so I had no reliable way to talk with her and my sister had just started driving… so I had my huge unavoidable trigger, plus this was before (or rather more specifically this was THE year) we discovered I was allergic to Red 40, and and and… Point is I had an extremely bad eczema outbreak. I’d always get it the worst on the back of my upper thighs. It was so bad that just to prevent it from getting worse while sitting in class, we had to tape these large patches of gauze over them. This school had a uniform and quite frankly the material for the bottoms was pretty uncomfortable to move in in the form of pants and shorts, so I often wore these pleated skirts my dad and I sewed because the pleats gave way more room to move.
So I’m wearing this skirt, with the gauze taped to the back of my thighs, and I’m out on the playground about to attempt the monkey bars (and being fully aware I’d fail, but I’d already finished like three books that day and it was only lunch and the monkey bars were at least still far enough away from where my friends were loudly arguing). M and K take notice that I’m gonna do something worthy of being mocked over so they gather their clique and bring them over to strike. C had been egging my friends on, but reluctantly was dragged away—reluctant that is, until she caught sight of something peculiar on the back of my thighs. So she called it out, jeeringly, “what’s that?” pointing at the gauze. So I tell her, simply, that it’s gauze. M rolls her eyes and joins C in sneering “why’s it taped on your legs?” So I tell them I have eczema and it’s pretty bad right now so it’s covered to help prevent it from getting worse. M asks what eczema is, so I start to explain “it’s a rash—“ only to be cut off by M and C loudly yelling “ew! It’s contagious your contagious you’re gonna give us all your rash” etc etc. K had been looking uncomfortable at the start of this which was unusual because usually it wasn’t C jumping in like this with M, it was usually K. I was trying to cut in to what M and C were yelling to explain that it wasn’t contagious, but again I was a quiet kid. I couldn’t cut people off, it was basically physically impossible for me at this time. But I wound up not needing to. Right when I was noticing that K wasn’t participating and was even looking uncomfortable, her discomfort transformed into determination. She cut off M and C and told them in no uncertain terms about how eczema was an autoimmune disorder transferred genetically and was in no way contagious and there was no way I could have prevented my own body from attacking me. She told them all that she had a cousin with bad eczema and that this was absolutely not something they could target to pick on me over. She then followed that up with a jibe at my lack of arm strength and my tiny feet, as though to demonstrate acceptable things to mock me over.
It might be a little stupid, but at that moment when everyone turned to mocking me for how small I was and how bad I was at climbing, I was so happy. So relieved. Because to this day I can’t stand to look at the back of my thighs, fully believing they are still covered with thick gnarled scar tissue. Because any attention brought to my eczema always made the itching and burning worse. Because any time my eczema worsened I felt horrible and that it was my fault for not being better at ignoring it. K stood up for me and saved me from the worst instance I can remember of a bully’s words actually getting to me. They didn’t stop going after me for it, but they had to do it quietly or else K would come down on them with all her righteous fury. I don’t think I ever got any physical attacks after that incident either and I know none of them wanted to touch me, still claiming I was contagious, but after that first time it didn’t bother me as much because I knew at least one of them understood.
K changed after that. She seemed to start noticing what people were truly bothered by and what they didn’t really care about, and she’d redirect mocking towards the unimportant things.
I left that school at the end of that year, but the next year apparently things in the social scene there went even worse. Remember my fighting friends? Ya that didn’t stop after just one year. Remember how C had been egging them on? She had gotten one of the other clique girls to support one while she backed the other. Soon enough, the whole clique had divided to back one or the other of my ex-friends—people they had mercilessly bullied for years and were now claiming to be besties with. I don’t know what exactly happened with K. Could’ve been something with volleyball or cheerleading. Could’ve been something with the bullying. Could’ve been a change in financial situation. But a year or two after I left she was booted to the curb from the clique. Full cold shoulder and then some.
She wanted to go to the fair, but as I mentioned her family situation was dismissive at the best of times. Her mother finally relented and said she could go IF she found someone to go with because they certainly didn’t have time for something so frivolous. She tried everyone and was shut out at every bend. Until, that is, she came across my phone number in her contacts from that brief time I was on the volleyball team because they didn’t have try outs that year because they almost didn’t have enough people for a team the year prior. So in a last ditch attempt, she messaged me to see if I’d be willing to go to the fair with her. And I thought back to that day she stood up for me, and how she had started redirecting her friends attention away from true land mines, and I went to my parents asking if I could meet a friend at the fair on that particular night. Because she needed a friend, even just for a night.
When we got there, she was all alone outside the front of the fair entrance. No family in sight. They had dropped her off and left. She was straining her neck around the crowd. I waved and ran up to her. She started crying as soon as she’d spotted me. She blubbered out her situation with her once friends and how she wouldn’t have been surprised if I hadn’t shown up because of how she used to treat me and so on and so forth. After she had calmed down we went to the fair and had a great time and I got to see a little spark of light return to her eyes.
So ya, she bullied me, and wound up getting exactly that in turn, but she also stood up for me at one of my worst moments, and I apparently did the same for her.
A year later and M for some reason invited me to a Halloween party she was throwing. I decided to go, and well that was basically the last time I ever spoke to my ex friends from that school. I was picked on by M and C and their cronies old and new while I was there and I decided that ya there was no need for me to be there and I called for a ride and left while there was still probably another 2-3 hours left of the party.
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mahalii · 3 years
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gimme an overview of the world's governments n how they work!!
AHH okay this answer has a lot of potiental to be word vomit since there’s just so much going on, but i’ll spare us both the time and try to explain them all as briefly as possible !! here are the ones that i’ve had time to think out lol
emerenthia
this government is similar to a constitutional monarchy ( kinda like england lol ) in that there is one ruling monarch and a governing body of people who help make the rules !! here, the Dahlian Order is a council who help vote on and enforce the laws of the emerenthian kingdom. they also act as advisors to the ruling monarch and help shape their decisions. that’s not to say the king / queen doesn’t have much power, because they have a lot. in fact, there’s no general of the armies because the ruling king / queen is the general, and battle plans and operations are often enforced with the help of the dahlian order’s wisdom...and selfishness.
the imperial realm of thenopae
twelve warlords, one grand emperor of them all. kind of like feaudalism but also not ?? basically every ten years or so twelve warlords are chosen fight over to govern the twelve states of the land. all of them have their own small armies, servants, mini palaces, and even sub warlords ( idk the name LOL ) who have to answer to them. the only thing preventing these bloodthirsty generals from ripping each other apart is their sworn allegiance to the emperor, the king. however, although they still need to submit to him, the warlords can do whatever they want. just as long as it’s on their turf.
hatheon
to summarize, it’s a little similar to thenopae. except there are about ten large city-states, and citizens actually get to vote and elect their representatives rather than them fighting for power lol. also surprise ! there’s a president and senate because most of the city-states are modeled after a futuristic 1940s version of new york and !! i am lacking ideas. <3
ethos
i haven’t really been able to think about this one but for starters, there isn’t one Big Leader like the other countries. “government” is found in a couple political families who work to influence the towns and smaller cities around them. all families will also pick a representative who’ll meet with the others several times a month to both update and get updates on what’s going on in other parts of the country. tldr: we’re all in this together ! :)
caelibria
before i start i would just like to add that i am not vibing with its name and plan on changing it soon LMAO but anyway. similar to although definitely not a triumvirate, there are three branches of power headed by three different leaders — a general, a chancellor, and a magistrate — who work together for the good of the people. laws are written and passed by the chancellor and their senate, while that same law is defended and judged by the magistrate, whose court decides on whether to throw someone into prison or not. finally, as its title implies, the general is the head of the military and is more concerned with matters of war.
also adding my taglist because this is a lot of info that adds to the story hehe <3
universal taglist @sondials @sprigofbasil @tarttisms @emdrabbles @whorizcn
forgotten sun taglist ( ask to be added or removed ) @emdrabbles @nepeinthe @rcvolutions @onceihadadream @nikolae @atbwrites @starsfalling @atelierwriting @caelum-writes @tarttisms @azrance @honeywharf​ @akoumi​
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snowbellewells · 4 years
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The Case of the Heart in Armor: Part Four
{I apologize again that this story keeps taking longer than I anticipate to update. This particular segment keep growing, and my inspiration and ideas for how to end this one keep ebbing and flowing unpredictably. Anyway, I’ll let you get to it rather than continuing to ramble. Enjoy!}
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{This fic was eventually begun as part of the first @csrolereversal​ event back in the fall, and inspired by this lovely fanart by @courtorderedcake​.}
Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…
Previous Chapters:  Part One   Part Two   Part Three
“The Case of the Heart in Armor”
by: @snowbellewells​
Part Four
It didn’t take long for Killian Jones and Emma Nolan to make their way back through the darkly clouded London streets to reach her home again. Not much was said, and Killian felt this perplexing young woman stealing glances over at him, anxious, ill at ease, and almost embarrassed, if he had to guess - though he couldn’t fathom why. True, they did not know each other well, but they were on the same side. If the older sibling whom she clearly looked up to trusted him, surely she knew she was safe with him, even on this strangely deserted nighttime street unchaperoned. For a second, Jones almost chuckled to himself at the mental image of how she might react to the idea of needing a chaperone at all.
Shaking his head, Killian refocused and stole a quick glance of his own. Though the still-obscuring fog made it hard to see clearly, Ms. Nolan was indeed blushing and fidgeting, wringing her hands together, even as she kept brisk pace with him easily. What had her so abashed? There was no need for her to feel foolish in the slightest; she had thought she was being pursued in a city where a violent killer was on the loose. That was enough to shake even the stoutest of constitutions. She was not made of stone - nor did he expect her to be.
“This is me,” Emma interrupted his inner musings abruptly. She had stopped at a set of steps up into a sturdy brick apartment building, gesturing to indicate they had reached her dwelling.
“Brilliant, Lass,” Jones nodded, acknowledging her words and turning to face her on the sidewalk.
As uncomfortable as she had appeared on their journey, he had fully expected her to blurt out a goodbye and flee up the stairs to the door, but instead Emma shuffled her feet as if reluctant to leave. As fractious as their previous encounters had been, sparking into fire that poked and prodded at his own hard exterior, mocking, infuriating, and then stirring his blood, Killian didn’t know what to expect from her hesitation, but found he wanted her to stay as well.
Finally, she raised those bright green eyes up to face him, piercing him with the strength of her gaze, and  spoke seriously. “There was something out there - before I ran into you, Mr. Jones. I gather you didn’t see it, but I was not imagining things. Nor was it some silly, flighty little fancy or whatever you might be assuming.” She squared her shoulders as she drew a quick breath, but she jutted her chin out with determination and pressed on before he could speak in reply. “You wouldn’t be the first to try to dismiss me as some irrational female, but I am not backing down. S-something was out there, and I - “
There Killian had to break in, reaching out to catch her forearm gently as she began to wave her hands wildly with her emphatic speech. “Wait, wait… hold on a second,” he tried, pulling back his hand once again when he realized after stilling her swinging gesticulations that though her voice was fierce and her stance undaunted, he could feel her slight frame trembling when he touched her. She’d had quite a fright and been plowing ahead ever since, trying not to appear as shaken as she must have been. “I didn’t doubt you at all. True, I did not see anything, but the fog was dense and I was coming from another direction, for one thing. For another, one does not work in unraveling mysteries for as long I have without realizing that things are not always as they appear.”
Emma didn’t back down, didn’t blink, yet she seemed to relax somehow. A measure of the tension between them released as she seemed to exhale at last - the tiniest bit of her guard retreating. “You...you believe me?” she finally asked, her voice much softer, almost dazed by his assertion; a definite shift from the sharp antagonism in her voice not long ago.
He nodded slightly, holding her gaze in an effort to broadcast his sincerity. “I promise you, Miss Nolan. I am not trying to discredit you.”
She gave a brief, curt nod, her adorably pert little chin bobbing sharply as she accepted his word without further argument. A tiny part of him wanted to celebrate - even laugh aloud - at the measuring way her eyes sparked, even narrowed in concentration as they were, but he held his reaction in, knowing that would undo whatever truce he had managed to reach with her. “Fine. I’ll choose to take you at your word,” she managed, holding out a hand to shake his before turning to climb the first step up to the door of her building. Then she swung around to face him again abruptly. “Oh, and Jones?” she added, with much less force. “Thank you… for showing up when you did.”
At that, Killian did have to let one corner of his mouth tick up into a pleased half-smile. Simply and definitely, he replied, “Anytime, Lass. Anytime.”
Once up the stairs and at the door in her own apartment, Emma swiftly crossed her small living room to peer out the window and down into the London street below. She didn’t want to admit why she was doing so, but it was dark and no one was going to know about it, so she let a smile of her own stretch across her lips as she got one last quick look at Killian ‘Holmes’ Jones’ lean, graceful figure before he disappeared around a corner and out of her sight. Shaking her head, Emma continued to gaze down on the foggy grey landscape below, the streetlamp lights with hazy halos around them drawing her eye once the antagonistic but attractive detective had left her field of vision. It wasn’t something she was ready to admit out loud, or to anyone else, but she had misread the maddening man. Judging from their first encounter when - yes, admittedly, she had picked his pocket; he just wasn’t meant to notice it - and their second when he’d deliberately provoked and accused her in David’s office, she had been sure he would mock her for seeing things and jumping at shadows.
Instead, he had shown up in the very moment she’d been sure she was about to be caught by some monstrous creature, steadying her, seeing her safely home, and even professing to believe her. It was pleasantly unexpected, and she wasn’t used to people surprising her positively, exceeding her expectations and first impressions. The enigmatic, dark and clever gentleman had stirred something warm and unfamiliar loose in her chest, and she had to admit as she finally closed her blinds and turned to ready herself for bed, that it was more than a little bit thrilling.
The previous fear and unease had almost evaporated from her thoughts after their conversation - and now that she was home and had some distance from the chase and panic she’d experienced. Letting her hair down and shimmying out of her skirt and blouse into her more comfortable silky shift, Emma sat on her bed to remove her buttoned and high-heeled ankle boots, letting out a deep breath to be free of her constricting clothes and the pins jabbing her scalp as they held her updo in place. Running a hand through the loosened waves of her hair, she already felt her eyelids growing heavy; sleep tugging at her after all that had gone on that day and her adrenaline flagging. 
She was sleepy enough that she failed see creeping wisps of that same threatening fog slipping beneath the doorframe and around the cracks of the windowpane. Soundless, unnoticed, and gathering without her knowledge as Emma lay down, eyes still closed and lights turned out, leaving her surrounded and yet completely unaware. The smoky fingers slid across the floor, up the bedposts and nearer to her unguarded form as if possessing human purpose. The strange fog silently covered her and slid into her mouth and nose, assuring that her sleep was preternaturally sound. And lost to whatever else might sneak into the room with her, sinister intentions unimpeded.
~~~~~~~~~~***
Not knowing what to do with himself after he left the plucky waif who equally consternated and beguiled him, Killian had been too unsettled to simply head back to his own home and bed. He was troubled by the fact that he hadn’t seen whatever horror had been after Emma Nolan, and he didn’t understand how that could be possible when he staked his name on seeing what most others missed. Yet, he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she had dreamed up some pretend monster in an attention-seeking imagination or a nervous temperament. Clearly, she had been dismissed more than enough times to assume that was what he would do, but he already had enough of an impression of her character to know that Miss Nolan was sharp, brassy, and largely undaunted - unless what she faced was a genuine cause for concern.
He had delved in the darker crevices and corners of the city long enough in his job to know that not all things which did happen could be rationally explained. He was far too logical to claim magic, witches and fairies ran wild in the streets of London; yet, he had seen enough to know that there was not a solution to every cause which suited the laws of science and nature for a proper understanding. People did dabble in the occult at the risk of their own souls and others’ safety, and perhaps not all spirits retired peaceably from this world to the beyond immediately upon their physical passing. Whatever the case, as the great Bard himself had once written, “there were more things in Heaven and Earth”, and at the moment, one of those lesser known entities seemed more probable than dismissing out of hand the determined pickpocket for whom he had gained a grudging admiration. 
Why he didn’t know, but it seemed his mind had arrived at the resolution without his conscious consent. Therefore, perhaps it would be best to return to the Chief Inspector’s offices and make sure there was no hint of the more ethereal nature in any of those troubling crime scene photos or notes. If the older Nolan, or Graham, were still working at this hour, they might even have reports from the newest victim’s scene for him to study. Mind made up, he strode off in that direction, step brisk and swift. His conscience pricked that Miss Nolan’s brother could also well wish to know of the strange encounter she had weathered this evening, even as some other corner of his being shied away from revealing what he knew instinctively she would not wish to have shared, particularly with one as concerned and protective as an elder sibling. Shaking his head in a brief moment of amused understanding, he remembered Liam’s exasperation at many of his own scrapes and close calls as they were growing up. His elder brother had not meant to coddle him of course, but he had certainly hoped to instill more caution and decorum than a younger Killian had used on his own.
Of course, those thoughts led to the rash actions and wrenching loss that had taught him the deliberation, care, and control that he now had more than enough of to last him the rest of his days. If he had listened to Liam’s cautions to slow down, to think… If he had only taken a bit more time to learn who Milah had been and what she had been fleeing… she might still…
Thankfully, before that train of grim thought could derail much further, his steps led him to the imposing stone structure and tall surrounding fence of Scotland Yard. Without further adieu, Jones made his way across the front walk, through the cavernous entry hall, and back the rather dim hallway leading to the inspector’s office. Nolan wasn’t a man who stood on excessive ceremony, more concerned with doing his job and the necessary results than etiquette and protocol. He doubted the other man would begrudge his unexpected arrival to peruse any new findings and ensure his adopted sister’s safety and well-being.
Sure enough, upon nearing the correct door, Jones rapped on the wooden frame twice and was immediately welcomed forward with a curt “Come in!” in the inspector’s brusquely resonant voice. Entering, he found Nolan standing, leaning over his desk where stark photographs and notes were spread, hands braced on the edges of the sturdy surface - clearly still trying to make sense of the clues they possessed as well. The sleeves of his crisp dress shirt were rolled up nearly to his elbows, and his stumped frustration was clear in the way the muscles of his bared forearms flexed spasmodically. The furrow between his wide, usually clear and calm eyes was deep, his suit jacket discarded in the chair behind him, and Killian could tell he had been at this for hours - with nothing new to show for it.
“Ah, Holmes,” he greeted, a wry, half-smile gracing his face and making the man look much more his usual self. “Just the pair of fresh eyes I need! Come have a look at this.”
“Did the results come back from your most recent victim?” Killian asked as he moved around the desk to where Nolan already stood. Once at the Inspector’s side, he looked down at the scattered gathering strewn across the flat surface. Though they had already noted the troubling savagery and seeming needlessness of each previous murder, the scene now added to the collection seemed almost sedate. There was still more blood than anyone should be comfortable with, but there were far fewer slices and cuts, less outward carnage on display. In fact, the only truly large enough injury to account for the wash of blood beneath the body, the dark puddle in every crime scene photo, was the gaping hole in the chest cavity, open and empty with ripped and cut off valves and arteries - and only those - where the victim’s heart should have been. It looked as though someone - or some thing - had reached in and pulled the heart from the victim’s body.
Leaning in to squint at the image more closely, trying to understand the necessity of getting one’s hand quite so dirty, to commit that amount of overkill, Jones tried to look deeper. What were they missing? What could the killer need with an actual human heart?
“Have all of the bodies been missing the heart?” Killian asked, stunned that this hadn’t been obvious to him sooner. He had studied all the previous site information as carefully as always, but none had seemed so blatantly about obtaining the single, necessary organ.
David shook his head soberly, mouth a thin, compressed line across his weary face. Scrubbing a hand down his features before answering. “No. The first two were missing numerous major internal organs. Then, as the kills continued, the number of organs missing lessened. At first, I hoped that meant the killer was getting sloppy, careless, closer to our capturing him. Then, as no other leads were forthcoming, and this sick hunt continued...well…” He shrugged helplessly, reminding Killian with a sharp twinge of guilt and conscience that this was where he was meant to come in, with his ability to see and deduce things that mere dedication and simple, straightforward policing might miss. “I thought he’d possibly lost his lair, or been interrupted and had to hurry. It never struck me that this could be about a single organ in particular. And even if it is….our suspect must have several hearts by now. So why is he still butchering people right and left?”
Inspector Nolan’s frustration was palpable, and Jones couldn’t blame him for it in the slightest. It was baffling, and more than a bit depraved. The ‘why’ of this all suddenly seemed infinitely more important than the when, where and how - even if that was the way his factual, logical mind tended to process most cases. Letting out his own huff of thwarted tension, Holmes leaned over the pictures again, so close that the edges of the separate scenes began to blur together. Then, a detail struck him that had escaped notice until that moment. For the newest set of crime scene images, out of the gaping darkness of the victim’s empty chest, it seemed something even lighter than the grey hue of the broken skin surrounding the opening stood out. Yes! Maybe... he blinked, trying to sharpen his focus once again. There was an edge of something just peeking out from the wound.
With a sharp indrawn breath, Killian pointed the barest sliver of true white out to the inspector, hardly daring to hope that his eyes were not playing trick on him. “Do you see that, Nolan?  Is that… paper?”
A touch of urgency in his voice, Nolan already in motion, confirmed that he did see it and gestured impatiently for Jones to follow him. Their quick footsteps were out of the office, across the hive of the bullpen, and down the dark stairwell to the morgue in short order. “I hadn’t noticed that until you pointed it out, but the body should still be down here. We need to see just what it is.”
They barrelled around the corner at a near jog, Nolan rapping loudly on the door into the medical examiner’s domain, and nearly charging forward before the faint offer of admittance sounded from within. Jones stood slightly back, letting the man with authority and credentials make their request of his colleague. In fact, he found himself offering a half-hearted look of apology to the startled man when Nolan practically snarled that they needed to see the newest body once more and commanded they be shown to the shelf where the corpse had been stored.
Jones cannot be terribly perturbed by the results Nolan’s abruptnes grants them however, when not five minutes later they are looking down at the same view they’d had  in the photograph upstairs. And sure enough, barely visible because he knows where to look, is the white edge of what can only be a thick sheet of parchment. The M.E. is still hovering nervously nearby, and at the detective’s motion, moves in with gloved hand and proper instrument to extract the indicated item. In seconds, they have it, though much the worse for wear and thoroughly  stained with dried blood. Still, once the parchment had been laid on the table surface, and he and Nolan had donned gloves as well, Holmes found he could unfold the crinkled note and discern the words written in cramped, intense handwriting.
David Nolan still sported a dark scowl as his eyes scanned the strange missive and unusual text upon it. “Another dead end?!” He slammed his large hands down on the surface with a force that made the table rattle. “Why would he plant a paper full of gibberish in the body? Just to taunt us?”
“Whoa, whoa,” Killian cautioned. “It’s not gibberish. It’s Latin.” He could just make out the message showing through the vermillion stain: ‘Not just any heart will do. The only one to use is the heart in armor.’
“You speak Latin, Holmes?” the inspector asked disbelievingly.
Killian couldn’t help but smirk at the other man, waggling his eyebrow at bit despite the somber situation. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy, mate.”
The inspector’s brow furrowed, looking both piqued and confused at Killian’s statement.  Jones meanwhile found himself glad for the other man’s distraction. As the cryptic message began to truly sink in, he was overwhelmed by self-blame.  His playful deflection had worked, Nolan had taken his knowledge at face value, and was now moving away to smooth things over with the flustered medical examiner. Thankful for the small mercy that he wasn’t having to explain just why he had closed himself off, why he never mentioned his naval service, and indeed why his own hard heart had felt cold and inadequate for so long, Killian could merely try to steady himself after the disturbing conclusion thrust upon him. Though the how and why were still largely a mystery, he could not overlook the fact that this monster had seemingly butchered all too many people in search of a heart like his.
Tagging a few who have been interested before: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @hollyethecurious​ @cocohook38​  @resident-of-storybrooke​ @laschatzi​ @drowned-dreamer​ @thislassishooked​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @stahlop​ @lfh1226-linda​ @winterbaby89​ @gingerchangeling​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ 
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46ten · 3 years
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Your line about anybody part of the slave transaction is an enslaver struck me. Now, I wonder how will the future generation view us. Slavery in many forms still exists (like the chepa labor) today and we consume the products that it produces. Some of us even invests on those companies thru stocks or works for them as employees. Will we all be branded as enslavers in the future? Are we as a society doomed? It really got me thinking.
[cont’d]
Like Hamilton and orher politicians whose primary focus was to build a nation, will our politicians and civil rights leaders be condemned by future generation for participating (passively/aggressively) in modern slavery? Will the future also call upon the removal of statues that would exist in the future. Made me realize that nothing really changed. We as a society is really toxic to the core. It’s really depressing to think that we have the moral highground because slavery still exists. Made me realized that humanity at its core is toxic. And we will always find ways to take advantage into people we consider “lesser” or “dispensable”. Whether it were people of color like before or citizens of we view as “poor” countries. It’s really is something. Ironic that I am using a product that is produce by what we could consider slave to discuss this topic. Anyways, sorry for the rant. Just needed to let it out of mind how your line made me reflect on what is happening today vs before
Your first phrase is really its own question. What kind of nation were Hamilton and other politicians trying to build? There’s certainly an argument to be made that they aimed to build a racial capitalist slave empire ruled by whites, and did so successfully. (This is what really sticks about the Hamilton musical propaganda.)  
There’s two points that could be addressed here: the beliefs of the Founding Fathers about humanity (won’t get into that now, but it’s important to understand the religious/philosophical framework from which they were working), and what we have been led to believe about what the Founding Fathers thought/wanted (which is easier). As Hogeland recently stated (about to link in a separate post), were they motivated by ideas or by their interests? It’s glaringly obvious that the Founders did not endeavor to create a society based on an inalienable rights. I could start quoting Taney (Dred Scott v. Sanford) stating that the Constitution was never meant to give citizenship to anyone of African descent, or Booth opining that African slavery was one of the greatest blessings God bestowed upon the nation, an opinion he felt the framers of the Constitution so clearly shared. The Founders baked their hypocrisy into the foundation of the U.S.
As sociologist Dr. Cottom recently stated on twitter (paraphrasing), all Americans believe in the same thing when it comes to rights. Our fundamental disagreement is over whom in our country should have those rights. This leads to the whole idea of each generation having to make America anew - it’s an ideal, not a real place. So no, I don’t think we will be judged well, assuming some steady move towards progress (and that’s a big assumption). The contradictions of this country still cannot be honestly addressed, but for the sake of the lives of so many, we have to continue to try. 
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nerianasims · 3 years
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Billboard #1s 1986
Under the cut.
Dionne & Friends -- "That's What Friends Are For" -- January 18, 1986
While listening to this song, I think it's a very squishy ballad with a nice sentiment that's not for me but is tolerable. Until a certain point. That point is when Elton John has his big part. Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight: Great, amazing, I love them, and though their talents are wasted on a song this slight, they make it listenable. Elton John's talents are not wasted on a song this slight. Couldn't they have brought in someone else? There's no way Prince would do something like this, but what about Paul McCartney? Kenny Loggins? Billy Ocean? I guess George Michael was too young for the song's schtick. But I'd take even Lionel Richie over Elton John.
Whitney Houston -- "How Will I Know" -- February 15, 1986
Whitney Houston was an amazing, phenomenally talented singer. And she oversang. Almost all the time. She didn't have to; she knew how to sing with subtlety and grace. But oversinging was (and is) popular, so that's what she did. It means I don't like most of her songs, including this one.
Mr. Mister -- "Kyrie" -- March 1, 1986
I'm not Christian any more, but one can pull inspiration from anywhere. I love the phrase "kyrie eleison." There's something beautiful about that combination of sounds, and there's also something beautiful about the sentiment. The music does not live up to it, unfortunately, though the opening is gorgeous. It also gets super repetitive at the end. It's pretty good, but I want it to be great, and sadly it is not.
Starship -- "Sara" -- March 15, 1986
I'm going to have to listen to "White Rabbit" a dozen times to cleanse this from my brain. A band that used to do stuff like that devolving into making this garbage is extremely depressing. This song starts with music box tinkling which sounds nice. Then saxophone over it which... okay. Just the sax would have been nice, but over the music box it's a little much, but I can keep going with it. Then they add a harmonica layered over it, and it's like I'm listening to a parody of mid-80s easy listening. And then randomly there's a drum crash and the weak voice of this guy comes in along with massive synth, and I start to wonder if I'm being punked. Are we sure this song wasn't a joke?
Heart -- "These Dreams" -- March 22, 1986
I watched the video probably hundreds of times when I was a kid. (On Betamax!) I adore this song. I got to it and went well, this is gonna win 1986, because there's only so much rational distance I can take from what was my favorite pop song when I was 9 years old. This song didn't start my Romantic sensibility, but it spoke to what was already in bloom. "There's something out there I can't resist." We'll see what else is on the list.
Falco -- "Rock Me Amadeus" -- March 29, 1986
I love the movie Amadeus, even though it constitutes a massive slander against poor Salieri. It gets Mozart pretty spot-on though. And I always loved classical music, was surrounded by it from infancy, so I was glad to see its popularity spread by the movie. (Yes, at age nine. I've always been a huge nerd.) This song is really fun and well-made too, though of course I can't understand any of the German lyrics.
Prince -- "Kiss" -- April 19, 1986
Prince sings this almost entirely in falsetto, so one would guess I would hate it, since falsetto usually sends me running in the other direction. One would be wrong. I adore it. Prince was that kind of artist -- he could get away with anything. He was notoriously arrogant, but was it really arrogance when it was just a proper conception of his own abilities? Anyway,
of course "you don't have to be cool to rule my world" deeply spoke to my experiences. I was the most uncool girl in school. Until high school, when somehow my not giving a damn about being cool (as I'd failed at it my whole life) actually helped me.
Also when Prince drops to a low note on the last "kiss," it is incredibly hot.
Robert Palmer -- "Addicted to Love" -- May 3, 1986
I have no idea what I'd think of this song without the video. The video infuriates me. The clone-looking emotionless women aren't "sexualized." No, you have to be treated like a human being on at least some level for that. They are purely objectified, treated literally as blank interchangeable things, with nothing at all inside them. The song is skeevy anyway, though I guess the music's good. But blech.
Pet Shop Boys -- "West End Girls" -- May 10, 1986
I've never liked this song and I've never really understood why. It's the kind of song I felt I should like. But I've always felt (since I noticed it as a teenager) that there was something missing. Now I know why: According to the Stereogum article about it, the band leader doesn't like rock n'roll, and is a pop critic. Oh. Some rock is exactly what this song needs. Without it, it's too cold and removed, and to me sounds smug. Also how can you be a pop critic and not like rock n' roll? That is a wrongness.
Whitney Houston -- "Greatest Love of All" -- May 17, 1986
Whitney Houston doesn't oversing on this song as much as usual, so that's good. Though she still oversings. What's not good are the music and lyrics. The music is bland as can be. Lyrically, it starts with "I believe the children are our future" and there's a verse about "the beauty they possess inside." Blargh.
Then after the first verse there's a total change in theme, going into how the narrator never found anyone to look up to. And that the "greatest love" is loving yourself and only depending on yourself and no one else. I despise this sentiment deep in my bones. Not of loving yourself -- though the song claims that's "easy to achieve," which is bollocks of the first order. Rather that you should only depend on yourself. That's literally inhuman. We are social creatures; without depending on each other, we are adrift in nothingness. So yeah. I hate this song.
Madonna -- "Live to Tell" -- June 7, 1986
This song gives me chills. The music is gorgeous and perfectly suited to the lyrics. I listened to the "True Blue" tape many, many times from about age 10 until, um. Well, I listened to the album on Spotify the other night. This song is the standout for me on it. I always thought that Madonna was singing about having been emotionally abused as a child herself. That is apparently not it at all; it's a song for a movie soundtrack. But to me it's about familial abuse. And always has been. It felt like she was singing for me. "The light that you could never see/ It shines inside, you can't take that from me."
Patti LaBelle & Michael McDonald -- "On My Own" -- June 14, 1986
Not the Les Miz song, sadly. It's about how the narrators are breaking up. Patti LaBelle is great, but I am so bored. Michael McDonald isn't bad, but he can't match Patti LaBelle, and even she can't stop this song from being deadly dull. It took me like 5 tries to be able to listen to the whole thing.
Billy Ocean -- "There'll Be Sad Songs (To Make You Cry)" -- July 5, 1986
What makes someone decide to put a parenthetical in a song title? Is there a formula? Anyway, he's singing (in his head) to someone he wants to be with. The "sad songs" are not actually supposed to be sad songs, it seems, but love songs that make him think of her. I guess. I don't know. Something about this song is turning my brain to mush. The tinkly parts and the violins are nice I guess. But I'm going to fall asleep at my desk if I try to listen to this song any more.
Simply Red -- "Holding Back the Years" -- July 12, 1986
Just looking at the lyrics, this song should be deeply depressing. He feels that so far his life has been a waste, but somehow he'll "keep holding on." There's a beautiful saxophone part. The song is not depressing -- it's Blues. It's terribly sad and cathartic at the same time. I'm not thrilled with Mick Hucknall's voice though.
Genesis -- "Invisible Touch" -- July 19, 1986
I did not pay attention to any of the lyrics of this song except the chorus until just now. I thought it was about a woman with an "invisible touch" whom people fall for left and right, and that's true. What I did not know was that she was supposed to be doing it on purpose. Which, okay, sort of like "Maneater"? Except no, because "Well I don't really know her, I only know her name." Then how do you know this about her?! He sounds like a stalker. Or this sounds like a first draft. The music is good enough, and the chorus could make for a good song around it lyrically, if they had bothered with that.
Peter Gabriel -- "Sledgehammer" -- July 26, 1986
I used to think this song was meant to be about a guy who was going to basically tank for you (and also have sex with you.) Well, apparently he wants to solve only one of your problems in particular: namely, that of your lacking orgasms. The "sledgehammer" is supposed to be a metaphor for his dick. Ow? Whatever, I'm going with my own interpretation of it. I like the beginning flute part, which is actually from a keyboard demo. It's a fun song, but it gets pretty repetitive.
Peter Cetera -- "Glory of Love" -- August 2, 1986
"We did it all for the glory of love" is a sentiment I usually adore. But this song is a limp dishrag. Did what for the glory of love? Why does she seem to be thinking of leaving him? And Peter Cetera being "the man who will fight for your honor" is a hilarious idea. His voice is nasally and he sounds like a faker. He comes off as someone who only vaguely understands the small-r romance of flowers and chocolates, and not at all as someone who understands the Romance of a castle far away. Bryan Adams did much better with this kind of thing in the 90s.
Madonna -- "Papa Don't Preach" -- August 16, 1986
The article I'm reading about this says there was a controversy over this song regarding abortion somehow, with left-wingers being upset that the narrator didn't consider it and right-wingers praising her for keeping the baby. Maybe in California. That is not what I remember in Michigan, and I do clearly remember a controversy. What I remember is right-wingers being absolutely incensed that Madonna was singing about the pregnancy of an unmarried young woman (or teenager, though I always felt the narrator was college-age) at all. I also remember one on the radio being angry that this working class girl was keeping her baby rather than giving it up to a rich family.
It is a really good song. Actually it is kinda Romantic. The narrator's in a dramatic life-changing situation, she has to choose whether or not to marry a guy before she's sure she's ready, and there are intense violins. Her father disapproves of her boyfriend, but she needs her father's advice. She's also not ashamed. She's in a difficult situation, but there's no guilt. Good. And this is what made so many people so angry with Madonna, and what was so deeply important about Madonna. She refused to even pretend to be guilty about sex in her music, ever.
Steve Winwood -- "Higher Love" -- August 30, 1986
I think this is about wanting to believe in a god. But then there's "I could make the sun shine from pure desire." Maybe it's about Aphrodite. Chaka Khan sings on this song, and she's obviously the best thing about it. It's not great, but it's enjoyable enough.
Bananarama -- "Venus" -- September 6, 1986
Speaking of higher loves. Bananarama are obviously having a wonderful time singing this 80s dance version of this song, and who wouldn't? The "she's got it" of the song of course also means "I've got it", hence "I'm your Venus." And Bananarama leans into that in a really fun way. It's a great version of a great song.
Berlin -- "Take My Breath Away" -- September 13, 1986
This is the big love ballad from Top Gun. I have managed to escape ever seeing Top Gun, though I've picked up some ideas about it. Mainly that it's a commercial for the U.S. air force, that Tom Cruise looks blank in it a lot, and that there's some kind of volleyball scene. Before I knew it was a commercial for the U.S. air force and therefore avoided it, I avoided it because of Tom Cruise. He has always been a total cold shower to me. As I've said since I started noticing these things (which was right around 1986), he reminds me of a Ken doll.
So the song. It sounds more like it belongs with a fantasy movie than in a modern military movie. Though I guess Top Gun is a fantasy too. But not the kind in which people usually look through hourglasses. It's a big, emotional ballad. I like it but I don't love it. If it weren't associated with Top Gun possibly I'd like it more.
Huey Lewis and the News -- "Stuck With You" -- September 20, 1986
This is a middle-aged man singing to his middle-aged wife about how he's "happy to be stuck with you." It's like if dad jokes became sentient and got married. It's cute and bouncy, and honestly pretty true-to-life. You can't be all higher love all the time.
Janet Jackson -- "When I Think of You" -- October 11, 1986
If "Nasty" had gotten to #1, it would have taken my "best of the year" spot. Sadly, it didn't, and this was Janet Jackson's first #1. "When I Think of You" is a really good song though. Janet Jackson is the best of the Jacksons and always was in every way. I think she was even a better dancer than Michael. (I don't know about "is", considering her age, but she's still a better artist.) "When I Think of You" is a very simple love song lyrically. When her "world gets crazy," she thinks of you to calm down. If this were easy listening, it would be unbearable. But it's a dance song, and a fun one. There's some great bass and interesting syncopation.
Cyndi Lauper -- "True Colors" -- October 25, 1986
This is such a beautiful song. It's helped me through some rough times ever since it came out -- the tape it's on was one of my first. It's straightforward in both lyrics and music, so there's not much to say about it besides that it's a great song.
Boston -- "Amanda" -- November 8, 1986
I am listening to this song now, and I don't recognize it. When they get to the chorus near the end it sounds kinda familiar, but I'm not sure that's because I recognize this song in particular, or because it sounds like every song like this in existence was put in a blender and this is the resulting slurry. Either this wasn't played on the radio much where I lived, or I changed the channel as soon as it was. It wants to be a power ballad, but it's an absolute nothing.
The Human League -- "Human" -- November 22, 1986
I guess it's an apology song, but "I'm only human" doesn't sit right with me as a real apology for something truly bad. He cheated on her. Which I do consider forgivable, depending on the circumstances and apology, but his is that she wasn't around so he was driven to cheat on her. And he should forgive her because he's "only human." Then the woman comes in and says she cheated on him too when they were apart, because she's human too. That makes the song tolerable. Maybe they need an open relationship. They still both sound whiny. And I don't like the music. It's boring and repetitive.
Bon Jovi -- "You Give Love a Bad Name" -- November 29, 1986
SHOT THROUGH THE HEART! AND YOU'RE TO BLAME! I love this song. Also I thought Jon Bon Jovi was hot at the time, though nowadays that 80s perm is hilarious. His voice is still hot though (so is he nowadays, grey hair and all, with his more contemporary haircut.) This song got plenty of radio play. Still does. And deserves it. It's technically a heartbreak song I suppose, but the video gets it right: It's Bon Jovi goofing around on stage in front of a joyous crowd. I love the bass, I love the guitars, and I did mention Jon Bon Jovi's voice is hot, right? Voices over looks every time for me, though both together is obviously welcome.
Peter Cetera and Amy Grant -- "The Next Time I Fall" -- December 6, 1986
Christian fundies had a deep and abiding hatred for Peter Cetera. Maybe they still do. I encountered this multiple times online over the years, and finally looked it up -- it's because of this song. Amy Grant used to be a singer of Christian music only. Then she had a pop hit with this dweeb, and certain usual suspects decided she was being corrupted by him.
The only way this song could corrupt anyone is if they started smashing things because they were so bored. The narrators have been heartbroken but are gonna try it again with each other, and it's as passionless as possible. Amy Grant's a better singer than Cetera by a ways, as she does not sing through her nose, but it's not like anyone could elevate this sludge.
Bruce Hornsby and the Range -- "The Way It Is" -- December 13, 1986
People are racist and treat poor people like shit. And people say that's just the way it is, but don't you believe them. This is true. We have come incredibly far, and things change. It's a good sermon, but as a song it's too simplistic for me, both musically and lyrically. I agree with the sentiment, but it's not a song I really want to listen to either.
The Bangles -- "Walk Like an Egyptian" -- December 20, 1986
Of course I loved this song when I was a kid, all the kids did. But I was already a Bangles fan. I had their first tape, which is their best and has the least pop sheen. I would prefer "Hero Takes a Fall" had been a big hit, but oh well. "Walk Like an Egyptian" is still fun.
BEST OF 1986 -- "These Dreams" by Heart  WORST OF 1986 -- "Sara" by Starship
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Heather Cox Richardson:
December 9, 2020 (Wednesday)
Today’s big story remains the loss of our neighbors to Covid-19. Today, our official death count passed the number of those killed in the 9-11 attacks. On that horrific day in 2001, we lost 2977 people to four terrorist attacks. Today, official reports showed 3,140 deaths from Covid-19, the highest single-day toll so far. Hospitals are overwhelmed, our health care workers exhausted.
As the country suffers, Trump has launched a new approach in his attempt to steal the 2020 election. While he has previously insisted that he actually won, and that his “win” must be recognized, this morning he tweeted simply “OVERTURN.” Republican leaders have ducked the question of Trump’s refusal to acknowledge Joe Biden’s win in the election by saying that the president has a right to challenge an election through legal means. Few of them commented on this new attack on our democracy.
Instead, the Republican attorneys general of seventeen states supported a lawsuit Texas has asked the Supreme Court’s permission to file against Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, suing them over their voting processes. A majority of voters in those four states voted for Biden, thus giving him their state’s electoral votes and the presidency. The states that want to sue are all Republican-majority states. They are hoping they can get the Supreme Court to allow them to sue, and that it will then agree with their complaint and throw out the votes from those states so the Republican legislatures there can then choose their own electors and give the win to Trump.
Astonishingly, this argument comes from the party that claims to oppose “judicial activism.”
The states that have declared their support for Texas’s lawsuit are: Missouri, Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Utah, and West Virginia. They are essentially asking the Supreme Court to disfranchise the majority in the United States and to let them put their chosen president in the White House. This assault on American principles is breathtaking.
Trump has also filed a motion to join Texas’s lawsuit in his personal capacity as a presidential candidate. His lawyer says that he “seeks to have the votes cast in the Defendant States unlawfully for his opponent to be deemed invalid.” Tonight, at a White House Hanukkah party, Trump told the crowd that with the help of “certain very important people, if they have wisdom and if they have courage, we are going to win this election.” The attendees chanted “four more years.”
Legal experts say this case is a non-starter. University of Texas Law Professor Steve Vladeck writes, “It is lacking in actual evidence; it is deeply cynical; it evinces stunning disrespect for both the role of the courts in our constitutional system and of the states in our elections; and it is doomed to fail.”
But the fact that Republican leaders have accepted, rather than condemned, this attempt to overturn a legitimate election says they are willing to destroy American democracy in order to stay in power. On CNN tonight, former Ohio Governor John Kasich, a Republican himself, called the lawmakers supporting Trump’s attack on democracy “morally and ethically bankrupt.”
Republicans might be stoking attacks on our electoral system because they know the courts will shut them down. After all, Trump’s lawyers are currently 1-51 in court, and it is unlikely the Supreme Court will take up Texas’s lawsuit. So siding with Trump is a cheap way for leaders to avoid alienating his voters when they will want those voters in 2022.
But they are playing a deeply cynical and wildly dangerous game. Yesterday, the official Twitter account of the Arizona Republican Party asked followers if they were willing to die to overturn the election, then posted a clip from the film “Rambo” in which the main character is threatening someone’s life, saying “This is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something.”
Today, talk show host Rush Limbaugh told his listeners that they are, in fact, still a majority but they are plagued with “RINOs” who are selling them out. “I actually think that we’re trending toward secession,” he said. “I see more and more people asking what in the world do we have in common with the people who live in, say, New York? What is there that makes us believe that there is enough of us there to even have a chance at winning New York? Especially if you’re talking about votes….” (New York City has more people than 40 of the 50 states.) He went on: “There cannot be a peaceful coexistence of two completely different theories of life, theories of government, theories of how we manage our affairs. We can’t be in this dire a conflict without something giving somewhere along the way.”
The theme of civil war, and of America tearing itself apart, was one pushed hard by Russian operatives in 2018. On Twitter, “Civil War” trended today. An actual civil war is highly unlikely, but the unwillingness of leaders to stop this language is already leading to death threats against election officials. The longer they permit it to go on, the worse things will get.
Republicans are working to undermine the incoming Democratic administration in other ways, too. Last week, Attorney General William Barr announced that he appointed U.S. Attorney John Durham as special counsel in October to investigate the FBI agents who worked on the investigation into Russia’s interference in the 2016 election. While the law about special counsels says they must come from outside the government, Barr claims to have found a loophole in that rule. Durham can be fired only for specific reasons such as conflict of interest or misconduct. Senate Judiciary Chairman Lindsey Graham (R-SC) applauded the appointment and the continuation of the investigation.
Today Biden’s son Hunter told the media that he has just learned that he is under investigation by the Department of Justice for tax issues, although CNN suggested it is a much wider financial investigation than that, and that it began in 2018. The Justice Department is also investigating a company related to Joe Biden’s brother James. While the DOJ is supposed to be independent of the president, these investigations echo Trump’s own calls for such investigations. Immediately Representative Ken Buck (R-CO) called for a special counsel to investigate Hunter Biden, and tonight, Trump tweeted that “10% of voters would have changed their vote if they knew about Hunter Biden…. But I won anyway!”
House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) told Fox News Channel personality Laura Ingraham today that Representative Eric Swalwell (D-CA) should be “removed from Congress” after an Axios report that a Chinese intelligence operative had worked to ingratiate herself with California lawmakers between 2011 and 2015. The operative targeted a number of politicians, including Swalwell, and she fundraised on his behalf, but there is no evidence she broke any laws. In 2015, FBI officers alerted Swalwell, who immediately cut all ties to her. He was never accused of any wrongdoing. The operative left the country unexpectedly during the FBI investigation.
Although the Axios story was about Chinese espionage, right-wing media is aflame with attacks on Swalwell in what seems an attempt to discredit a Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee. Don Jr. tweeted that Swalwell “was literally sleeping with a Chinese spy,” an allegation that is nowhere in the story, although the story mentions that two unidentified midwestern mayors had affairs with her.
The White House appears to be trying to sabotage the Biden administration not only by keeping the Biden team from information it needs, but by tying its hands and slowing it down. The day after the election, the Trump administration proposed a new rule requiring the new Department of Health and Human Services appointees to review most of the department’s regulations by 2023. The rule would automatically kill any regulations that haven’t been reviewed by then. This would mean that, just as the new administration is trying to fight the coronavirus, it would be slammed with administrative paperwork. The department’s chief of staff denies the unusual move is political, saying that a review is necessary because one hasn’t been done for 40 years.
Now that the transition process has finally started, Trump loyalists are blocking meetings, or sitting in on them to monitor what is being said, especially at the Environmental Protection Agency. At Voice of America, Trump’s appointed head, Michael Pack, has refused to give meetings or records to Biden’s team. For their part, Biden’s transition folks are avoiding fights in order to get whatever information they can.
Republican senators are also signaling that they intend to delay confirmations on Biden’s nominees, although in the past 95% of Cabinet nominees have had hearings before an inauguration, and 84% of those were approved within three days. Senator John Cornyn (R-TX), for example, questioned the experience of Biden’s nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Xavier Becerra. Becerra is the Attorney General of California, and he sat on the House Committee on Ways and Means, which oversees health issues, during his 24 years in Congress. “I don’t know what his Health and Human Services credentials are,” Cornyn told The Hill. It’s not like [Trump’s HHS Secretary] Alex Azar, who worked for pharma and had a health care background.”
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thessalian · 2 years
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Thess vs the Ministerial Code
So I may have indulged in a little bit of retail therapy in a bid not to blow up. Because it has been a shitty, shitty day and today’s downward spiral of the Tory government made it SO. MUCH. WORSE.
I knew it was going to be a bad day when my regular chorus of aches turned into a Epic Classic-Metal OST-style version of Ave Maria. (This does actually exist, by the way; it’s amazing what my penchant for soundtrack-style music and weird covers gets Spotify throwing at me.) It got worse when, of course, Temp decided she was going to go back to her “let’s leave all the long and fiddly dictation for someone else to do” ways - probably in preparation for what she’s going to get up to when Scruffman’s away next week. Some days I just suck it up and cope, because I’m clearly better at them than she is, but on bad days, I have problems with focus because a) fibro fog and b) not being able to think straight for the pain. I will cope with the long fiddly dictation when I have to but it enrages me when we’re having a relatively slow day and she cherry-picks all the nice easy stuff that I’d be able to cope with better on bad pain days. I’m going to have to bring this up to Scruffman again when he’s back from holiday, but I didn’t trust myself to do it today because I was going to start swearing, crying, or both.
And then, in the midst of that, while taking a microbreak after a ten-minute bit of nonsense (that got garbled because the transcription machines are garbage and the techs are not careful when using them), and I checked the news. And discovered that Johnson literally changed the ministerial code to say that breach of conduct was no longer a thing that required a minister’s resignation. So a minister can breach the code of conduct all they want and all they have to do is ‘apologise’ and maybe lose some pay, when they can let all the meaningless non-apologies they want dribble from their mouths and have more money than they need anyway.
He’s also rewritten the foreward to the code. To remove all references to honesty, integrity, transparency and accountability.
He can just ... do this. Our constitution isn’t like the US constitution. It’s not enshrined in a single document. And apparently the Prime Minister can just edit them to suit said Prime Minister’s needs at any given time. So now we have this, and people are largely at least flagging up that yes, he’s changing the code to save his own arse from being obliged to resign. Then again, we should have known this was coming when he didn’t make Priti Patel resign when she was found to be bullying her staff.
Yet again, I know that Biden’s not being all that the American people wanted him to be but for fuck’s sake, anyone but Trump. You let a Trump go unchecked, and this is what happens.
This ahead of another cabinet recess and next weekend being this fucking platinum jubilee. I don’t exactly give two shits about the monarchy and I’m not up for flag-waving jingoistic bullshit. I honestly want to see protests at each and every one of the fucking ‘galas’ being set up for next weekend. We need a lot less jingoism and a lot more pointing out that we have a fucking despot in charge. An incompetent despot, at that.
I’d leave if I could, but in the current economy, even if I could afford to get back to Canada with my stuff, I couldn’t survive. My mother wouldn’t support it (she figures this doesn’t really affect her so she’s fine, and has basically been a Johnson apologist just because she’s a true-blue Tory at heart) and I was lucky enough to get this job and be able to keep it part-time. I wouldn’t get that lucky again if I went to Canada. So I can’t afford to leave and I’m terrified of staying and I just kind of want to punch walls.
But instead, I will look at the Zen-ish video games I bought (I was pondering Tales of Arise, since it’s on sale, but I wasn’t sure enough) and consider what to order for food. My options are pretty limited, given dietary restrictions, but I’ll come up with something.
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libermachinae · 4 years
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Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 4, Sensory
Also available on AO3! Notes: Day 4 of @prowlweek and I went a bit squish. Scav’s a good-ish boy.
⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳
Scavenger apologized probably somewhere around a hundred times. Hook couldn’t keep track of them all, and even Prowl must have been satiated, because he gave up on his lecture halfway through and kept it to a crisp, “Do as you’re ordered.”
“Mixmaster and Scavenger, you’re coming through this time,” Prowl announced as he loaded up the terminal with their next set of coordinates. “Long Haul, you’re anchor.”
“What? Why me?”
“Because that’s your order,” Prowl said.
“Bonecrusher’s the one who caused problems the last time, shouldn’t he be the one stuck behind?” Long Haul’s shoulders were squared and his plating flaring. Though he resented the reaction, Hook could understand where it came from: after being put on guard duty twice in a row, their resentful transporter was probably starting to feel like his skills were being undervalued.
“I’m the leader of this mission,” Prowl said, turning to stare Long Haul down. “If you take issue with my command style, you’re welcome to leave.”
“I’m not gonna do that and you know it,” Long Haul snapped.
“Precisely.” Prowl turned back to the console, as though that constituted a satisfying end to the argument.
Hook tried to get a steadying hand on Long Haul’s shoulder but was pushed off, the larger mech stalking away. Not that there was far to go. The present had been confined to the space of the cave they stood in, their only indication that real time was passing the changing light that filtered in through the ceiling. Their chronometers had fallen out of sync with each journey, but it was pointless to reset them every time, when Prowl had them going back in just minutes after they returned.
He finished punching in the coordinates, the timestream shimmered to life, and the team lined up behind him. Only now, Prowl didn’t bother to specify the order they would travel in. He took the lead, Scavenger slipped in front of Hook, Bonecrusher and Mixmaster lagging behind, and a silent agreement was passed not to bring it up as an issue. If Prowl was relaxing his regulations a bit, that could only mean fewer opportunities for them to mess up.
Part of Hook wondered if they should take a break soon, give everyone a chance to fuel up and ease off, maybe even have a chance to get caught up on everything they had missed. That’s how they’d done it with Scrapper, but he stopped that line of thought before the pang in his spark got to be too strong. This wasn’t the right time to bring it up, anyway, so he put his focus to keeping his processor under control as he stepped into the timestream.
He did a better job of it this time, practice having made him more accustomed to the feeling of time rejecting their intrusion. He reached forward at once point and took Scavenger’s hand, keeping him from rushing ahead like he had the first time, and in response felt a squeeze that held until they nearly reached the exit. This time, Hook could see what they were approaching, but the only thing he was able to make out was that it was dark. Not like the cave, though. There was something familiar about it.
At Prowl’s signal, he let Scavenger slip free of his hand, then followed shortly after, emerging among the roots of another long-lost Cybertronian city.
“An abandoned sector?” Hook said as he peered around. Compared to their last stop, the streets here were barren, lights only distantly visible through the breaks between buildings. Someone turned on their headlights and illuminated the building across the way, its large doors slightly ajar.
“What would the time killer want with this place?” Scavenger asked as he crept closer.
“The what?”
Scav grinned at Prowl.
“The time killer,” he repeated. “We’ve got to call this guy something, don’t we?”
“He hasn’t killed anyone.”
“He’s Cybertronian?”
“Yes, but—”
“There you go! Killer.”
“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Hook said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Prowl said. “Come up with something better. Bonecrusher, you’re on guard duty. Scavenger, Mixmaster, Hook, with me.”
The named mechs followed Prowl into the nearest building, staring up at tall ceilings that only served to offer more room to an incredible collection of junk. Scrapped sheet metal, rusted beams, and all manner of useless spare parts filled the space, a warehouse that had been made to a cheap and convenient dump for some unofficial industrial venture. The whole thing rung familiar to Hook, but it was the rumble of and engine in need of a tune-up that caused his processor to alight in recognition.
“Wh—seriously? Since when do you all show up early?”
Hook whirled around, his spark spinning with way too many emotions to process at once.
“Scrapper?” Mixmaster choked out.
“But no Long Haul. Great. I guess we can just start building the arena on top of the scrap piles, that’ll stand just fine.” Scrapper wasn’t paying any attention to the mechs he was addressing, too wrapped up in his planning and calculations to notice anything amiss. The casual ignorance of a mech who was so profoundly gifted in his ability to notice details struck an emotion in Hook that he did not have the words to describe, and he found himself stepping forward.
“Scrapper—”
“Scavenger, stop standing around,” he said, possibly ignoring Hook, though more likely failing to notice him. “I need you to start sorting through this mess and figure out what’s useful. Mixmaster, help him excavate however he needs; your skills aren’t going to be any use until we get this cleared and Bonecrusher gets here to set up the foundation. Hook, you review the blueprints last night?”
“Of course, sir,” Hook said, forcing himself out of his stupor and back into the role of the perfectionist second-in-command he had played for four million years. The changeover was so natural, he forgot he was lying.
“Start laying out the perimeter. Give us a sense of the space we’re working with,” Scrapper ordered. “Once you’ve got that, I’ll need your help with the fine details, make sure everything’s to Megatron’s specifications. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Scrapper turned and walked off, optics fixed to the datapad he’d walked in with. Hook stared at his frame as it retreated, taking in the way his legs bent and arms swung, the cant his helm adopted when he was deep in thought. The last time he’d seen Scrapper functioning had seemed like such a non-event, it hadn’t occurred to him to savor it like this. Now, every frame was saved to his memory, copied to multiple folders and heavily encrypted.
There were so many things he wished he could do to that frame. But, if they really were all the way back to setting up gladiator arenas, then the team wasn’t really a team yet. There were rumors about Scrapper and Long Haul, evidence of Mixmaster and Bonecrusher’s late night ‘science projects,’ and a few nights spent fantasizing ceaselessly, but nothing at all like what would come later. Hook, he reminded himself, wasn’t even the second yet. At this point in the timeline, he’d only recently been assigned to Scrapper’s crew and made up for it with a kiss-up habit he was still struggling to break.
He wished there was time; the things he wanted to do to that frame. Scrapper disappeared through the far door, and Hook made to follow him, reclaim lost days he’d never imagined would be significant enough to miss. A hand caught his arm, he turned to Mixmaster’s optics, and was reminded of their reality.
“Prowl says we should go,” Mixmaster said.
“Oh.” Hook didn’t remember setting his vocalizer that low. “Where is he?”
“I’ve got him,” Scavenger said. He’d been leaned over a pile, sensitive digger arm extended in from of him, now revealing that Prowl had been hiding beneath it. “It’s good we got Scrapper while he was still in planning mode. I don’t know if this will work again if he comes back.”
“It’s not worth the risk,” Prowl said. “You’re all compromised and there is no sign of the target, so we’re going back.”
He led the way back out of the building. Mixmaster complied without much fuss, surprisingly eager to get back to the time portal, but Scavenger lagged, glancing over his shoulder to the place Scrapper had disappeared to.
Hook paused to wait for his teammate.
“Hey, c’mon, Scav,” he said, offering out a hand. It was all he could do to close the distance, because he knew if he went to Scavenger right then, he might not be able to stop his legs from carrying him all the way back.
Still, the mech hesitated.
“Is there a problem?” Prowl asked, back at his side.
“N-no, Prowl, uh, boss,” Hook said, trying to hide how the mech’s reappearance had startled him.
“It’s him,” Scavenger said, with a reverence that he usually saved for just one mech at a time. He glanced back at Prowl, optics bright with something. Realization? Hope? Primus, don’t let it be that. “Prowl, could we—”
In two strides, so quick and silent he might have teleported to Scavenger’s side, Prowl pushed himself into the mech’s space, silencing him with presence alone.
“No,” he said, his voice the blade that cut off Scavenger’s fragile buds of hoe. “No. Scavenger, on this day, four million years in your past, Scrapper had a normal day. He worked with you and the rest of the team, erected Megatron’s next arena, and forgot about it among every other day he spent doing the exact same thing. He did not get removed from his place in time, nor did he mention ever encountering a different version of you. This is how things happened, and we can’t change it, no matter how badly we—you want to.”
He was leaning far into Scavenger’s space, closer than Hook had known he was capable of. And although the display was apparently meant to be domineering, show that Prowl was the one in control, there was something else to it, captured in the way Prowl’s hand reached up and touched, so gently, the excavator’s wilting backhoe.
“That’s four million years ago. More recently than that, Spike Witwicky tracks him down, isolated in an Earth construction lot, and kills him. We can’t undo that, either. It’s not ours to change.”
Scavenger’s whole frame perked up under the surprise touch, subconsciously tilting his stick into Prowl’s hand. Hook watched Prowl’s gray fingers stroke with surprising care, a jealousy coiling in his spark that he was only able to tamp down with the knowledge that Scavenger would be delighted to share the memory when they next combined.
Prowl said something else, so soft Hook couldn’t hear it. When he leaned back, he and Scavenger’s optics were locked, the latter nodding in some private agreement.
“Now move it, both of you,” Prowl said, voice returned to its usual commanding timbre. He turned and proceeded out the way he’d been headed before, leaving Hook and Scavenger to follow. It wasn’t a problem this time, though they walked after him on legs that felt suddenly weak. It still took a great deal of will on Hook’s part not to cast a final glance backward as they left, but he managed it, keeping his optics ahead of him, on the doorwings that swayed with each step Prowl took.
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thestarkerisobvious · 4 years
Text
Exchange
Tony has scars.
We all know this.
What you might not have been aware of is how badly Tony wants to forget that they are there.
----------------------------------------------------------
Peter walked Tony backward until the back of his knees hit the bed, then there wasn’t anywhere else to go. Peter’s bedroom eyes should have been sexy….. sexy?  They should have made Tony rock-hard.  (Rarely did he allow Peter to take the lead and now that he did 
he realized how much he was missing.)  But when Peter reached up to undo his tie he only felt dizzy.
Dammit, this wasn’t fair.
They had made out on the couch.  They had slowdanced to ‘Ride On’ by AC/DC and a few other power ballads he had chosen for the playlist.   They had sat sipping wine looking out the window at all of New York City.  (Peter had sipped wine.  Tony had finished off the bottle and started on the next.)
None of this had relaxed him at all (in fact his churning stomach was making him regret the wine.)  The only reason he wasn’t calling it all off was because he had made a promise, and he didn’t go back on his word.  
Well, ok, maybe he did. But not to Peter.
Peter – he looked like an angel, now, slowly pulling Tony’s tie away, keeping eye contact all the while. Why had Tony always insisted on being so aggressive in bed, always pushing Peter down and taking control of all the action?  Oh yeah, because he was an egotistical bastard, that was why.  Now Peter was tenderly laying the tie out at the foot of the bed and reaching for the buttons of Tony’s vest.  His serious eyes would take a grown man’s breath away.
But that was ok because Tony couldn’t breathe anyway.
But that was ridiculous – of course Tony could breathe.  He made himself breathe.  He took in Peter’s scent, trying to remind himself over and over again why he was doing this – because Peter had asked him to.  
And that was reason enough, wasn’t it?
His vest was finally unbuttoned and it was coming off his shoulders – dammit did he intentionally wear all these layers because he knew THIS was the night?  He had looked absurdly overdressed next to Peter in t-shirt and skintight jeans.  He had been very shlubby just an hour before, having worked in the lab for a solid week, letting his beard grow out and rarely changing clothes.  But a few hours before he had showered and shaved and dressed in a panic.  
He wanted to look nice.
Tonight was the night.
And this was the moment – the vest was gone and now Peter (looking less and less angelic by the minute, now looking something like a wet dream come true) was unbuttoning his shirt.
There was no undershirt beneath it.  That, at least, had been intentional.  
But it wasn’t working. No matter how many deep breaths he took, no matter how hard he tried to get to his happy face (it was in front of him – it was Peter – Peter was his happy place) his heart was pounding painfully and the room was spinning.  
Tony seized Peter’s wrists in his.  The boy was only halfway down the shirt.
Peter wouldn’t protest, he knew.  (And that was the problem.  Peter wouldn’t push.  Dammit, if only the boy would just force the issue, just use his superior strength, throw Tony down on the bed and TAKE his shirt off, then maybe he could get passed it, get passed himself, get passed this illogical absurdity.)
(Then again, he might just throw up.)  
Despite the fact that this is what the boy wanted, despite the fact that it was the only thing Peter was asking for, he wasn’t able to comply.  Logically it made no sense, he had been shirtless in bed (after the lovemaking) and obviously he had been shirtless in the shower (but it was an eternal twilight in the shower.  That’s what the light levels were set at, had been for years now.)
But logic didn’t live here.
And, sadly, his devotion to Peter didn’t live here either.  He had to apologize.  
And, worse, he was going to have to tell Peter “no.”
No, you’re not going to be allowed to undress me.
No, the shirt doesn’t come off before sex.
No, you don’t get to see them, kiss them, touch them, press yourself against them or otherwise make me take note of the scars on my chest in any way, shape, or form.
Yes, you’ve been patient. Yes, you’ve been understanding. Yes, you’ve asked for almost nothing and I’ve asked for damn near everything.  Asked for painfully detailed accounts of every jockey that came before me, asked to be exclusive, asked for secret fantasies and wishes and dreams.  But take off my shirt under these conditions?  Sorry Kid, I’m just too damn vain to deal with your piddly little ‘desires’ while I make you bend to every damn one of my own.  Sorry Kid, thems the breaks.
He opened his mouth to say it – Peter was standing there looking up into his face while he held the boy’s wrists tight – he opened his mouth to say “No.”  
And heard something entirely different come out.
“What do I get?”
Wait…that wasn’t right.
But Peter got it. “Anything, Tony,” Peter was whispering, waiting patiently to remove Tony’s shirt, just like Tony had promised.
“Anything?”
“Anything at all.”
Peter moved his mouth forward to kiss what little skin the shirt revealed, but Tony pulled away.  But now, instead of panicking, he was thinking.  What could he ask the boy for, really, that they hadn’t already done?  Something that might actually constitute a sexual favor for the one Peter wanted from him now?  He had to get creative.
“All right.”  He took a deep breath – he found it remarkably easier now that he was racking his brain for sexual experiences instead of trying not to panic because his shirt was coming off.
“Tomorrow night, you have to find something on Netflix, you have to get comfortable and naked, and you have to let me eat your ass for as long as I want.  Might have to be something long on Netflix.  Might take hours.
That angelic grin, the one that been breaking Tony’s heart just moments before, spread all over Peter’s face.  “Ok,” he said breathlessly.  
Tony dropped his hands.
The original plan had been simple.  (When Peter had described his fantasy of Tony slowly and seductively taking off his tie and then his shirt while Peter watched, Tony had been all for it.  On the phone.  It sounded entirely doable on the phone.)  When Tony had announced, quite suddenly, that he wanted Peter to undress him instead he had seen that same, angelic, heartbreaking smile. Heartbreaking, because Peter seemed to think Tony was doing him some kind of favor.  The fact was, Tony couldn’t move his hands at all.
Now Peter had finished the unbuttoning, and was slowly and gently pulling Tony’s shirttails free from his trousers.  Fuck, if Peter would only undo his belt now, pull his trousers down, ah gods he could just make love to the boy from there and they could forget about the rest of this nightmare.  But Peter was looking hungrily and what little he could see of Tony’s chest, and licking his lips.
“I want to kiss you there,” the boy was saying in a breathless voice.
“What do I get?”
Peter looked at him suddenly, surprised.  Tony waited for the look of irritation – the boy had been incredibly patient – but it never came.  Peter just looked longingly at the skin a few inches from his lips and said “Anything.”
“What does ‘anything’ mean?”
“It means anything.”
“You don’t really mean that, Babyboy,” Tony said playfully, and then he did see that look of irritation.
“Yes I do Daddy,” Peter growled, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder.  (Peter wanted to hide the angry look on his face, but he didn’t try to hide it in his voice.  He did not like it when Tony pointed out his level of inexperience – but if Peter list of sexual acts was limited, and if he was exclusive with Tony now, well whose fault is that?)
Tony apologized by wrapping his arms around the boy and pressing him close (all the while racking his brain to come up with something else.  Peter was a very willing lover – and everything Tony had wanted to do had already been done.  What else could he ask for, that would even come close to ….)
Then Tony was grinning.
He leaned down and whispered in Peter’s ear.
“In exchange, you have to tell me your dirtiest…. filthiest Daddy and Babyboy fantasy that you’ve ever had, ever.”
Peter started.  He looked up into Tony’s face, alarmed.
“But…..you didn’t…..you didn’t LIKE the Daddy/Babyboy game…..” he said in a small voice.
“No no, I said I didn’t like the rollplay.  I never said I didn’t like the fantasy.  Give that to me, make that mine, and you can have this.”
Peter’s face, equal parts alarm and determination, put Tony more at ease than any deep breathing method or happyplace ever could.  As he watched Peter make a decision he felt the knot in his stomach begin to think about unraveling.
And when Peter nodded, the boy’s lips pressing against the narrow strip of skin on his chest didn’t feel obscene at all.  In a very strange way, the tiny kisses felt good.
Peter made no move to move the shirt at all – and for that Tony was grateful.  He licked a stripe straight down and then back up again.  It meant he had to bend his knees in awkward ways (but no movement Peter ever made was awkward) but he managed to press kisses directly below Tony’s sternum and then work his way up until he was pressing little kisses against his Adams apple, and licking him there.
His body pressed up against Tony’s body in a pleasurable way.
Which is why Tony grinned a little when Peter tried to open the left side of his shirt.
“Oh no, Babyboy,” he said, stopping the hand.  “If you want me to give you something you’ll have to give me something in return.”
Peter said nothing. His fingers continued to play with the fabric of Tony’s shirt, but now he was thinking carefully about what he wanted and what he was willing to give.
Tony noticed that, this time, he didn’t say “Anything.”
“What do you want?”
Tony wrapped his arms around the boy and thought carefully.  The truth is, he should just stop now – he had probably pushed Peter’s patience just as far as it would go, and other than what he had just suggested he really couldn’t think of anything Peter would be unwilling to do, that is, something that Tony would also be willing to pressure Peter into.   Peter was just so accommodating, letting Tony do just about anything …..except……
“Let me buy you a suit,” Tony said, his face suddenly breaking into a shiteating grin.
“Aaaaaaaaarrrg!” Peter shouted up into his vaulted ceiling, and suddenly Tony’s grin was turning into a laugh.  Peter leaned backwards and Tony’s hands went automatically to the small of his back and they moved like dancers, Tony supporting Peter as his eye-roll turned into a full head-roll turned into a full body-roll.
“No…..no!” Peter said, both hands fisting in the edges of Tony’s shirt as Tony held him and grinned. “That doesn’t work because that is a cardinal rule!  You are breaking a cardinal rule, and that is not fair!!  You are NOT my sugardaddy and you do not buy me things!  We established this!”
“Yes, yes, and the shirt stays on before sex, that is a hard rule too,” Tony insisted, laughing all the while.  The tension melted from his shoulders, from his whole body, as he described the required 3 fittings, the basting fit, how the rough blank would be chalked with countours of Peter’s body, all while Peter continued to shout protests at the ceiling.
“Fine,” Peter spat, meeting Tony’s eyes.  “But for that, I get to kiss you there too.”
There was silence for a moment.
Tony waited for his stomach to knot again, for his mouth to go dry like it had before.  He closed his eyes.  He took in Peter’s scent.  The boy’s body was still pressed up against him and suddenly he found that very pleasurable.  He opened his eyes and spoke.
“Kiss them, yes.
“But touching them costs you extra.”
Peter growled in a way that made Tony’s eyebrows go up and his breath catch.  For a moment he remembered that the boy in his arms was significantly stronger than he was – significantly stronger.  This boy could push him down to the bed and take what he wasn’t wiling to offer.  And that thought didn’t frighten him at all.  In fact, that thought was making him hard.
“What, then?” Peter growled, and Tony had to stop smiling long enough to think.
“All right,” he said, stalling for time.  He was trapped between Peter’s body and the edge of the bed, but as long as he was calculating he didn’t feel terribly trapped anymore.
“I want your password on A03.
“I want to see what you’ve bookmarked. I want to see what you read.”
Peter’s eyes went comically wide and suddenly Tony didn’t feel trapped anymore.  Tony felt inspired.
“You….get that…..this is not ……” he started to explain as Tony opened his shirt slowly and let it fall off his shoulders.
“…. its not all Hogwarts and Lord of the Rings erotica…. you get that, right?” Peter squeaked.  His eyes drank in all of Tony’s skin, just inches in front of his face.  He looked longingly, even as he struggled to explain.
“There might be some…..real people pairings in there too but…..but those are just fantasies…..” he continued, as Tony let his shirt fall off his arms and then onto the bed.
“….and none of that is real… you can’t judge a person by what they fantasize about …”
Tony was grinning from ear to ear.  His heart was still pounding, but it felt less like fear and more like elation.  
“Oh, so it turns out there is something you’re not willing to do?” Tony teased with wide grin on his face, climbing backward onto the bed.
“No,” Peter growled and climbed into his open arms.
Tony laid himself out on the bed, and Peter ate him up like a feast.
65 notes · View notes
msephy · 4 years
Text
Upbringing chap 11/13
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10
Cross-posted to AO3
Earth 53 - Jason Todd
Jason fired, aiming at Ra’s chest – but then Bruce pushed the Demon’s Head out of his line of fire. Jason swore. Seriously? Seriously?
“Goddamnit, B.!” he yelled, aiming again.
He didn’t intend to fire again, that would just be wasting bullets at this point, but it prevented the nearby leaguers from attacking him. Also, he was very aware of Talia’s presence in his back. She put her life on the line for saving Damian and would very much do the same to safe her goddamn father.
Damnit, damnit. What were there going to do now? Killing Ra’s might have distracted the assassins for long enough for them to get the hell out of there, even though they’d then most certainly have followed them all the way back to Gotham for revenge. Hopefully, on a more long-term perspective, the League of Shadows might have collapsed, though, deprived of its leader.
That’s to say, if Ra’s hadn’t come back to life. Again.
Anyway, here went his plan. What now? There was no way they’d manage to fight them all off, even with Talia’s help.
“Thank you, Detective,” Ra’s was saying while picking himself up. “Interesting reaction from you, Zila al Xu'ffasch. Or maybe you aren’t who I thought you were.”
“Seems so, old man,” Jason answered, still trying to find a solution out of this. Stalling wasn’t going to work for long. “I’m nobody’s shadow.”
“So I see.” Ra’s turned back to Bruce. “You keep interesting company, Detective. But as grateful or interested I might be, I’m afraid I won’t tolerate this interruption any longer.”
“We aren’t giving you the kid, Ra’s,” Jason retorted, annoyed at being ignored. He was the one with the gun, damnit!
“And how do you suggest stopping me?”
Ra’s tone was faintly amused. Damn. Him. If Jason had had time to prepare, he would have brought – a bomb, or something.
Except trying to outbid Ra’s hadn’t worked so far, and was unlikely to work in any case. What they needed was a change of scenery. Anything that would offer an opportunity.
“Why the hell do you need his body in any case? Ain’t your Lazarus pit not working anymore?”
“The situation has gone beyond the pit’s ability for healing, I’m afraid,” Ra’s said, raising his arms to display his diminished state. “And I would suffer no more indignities.”
“Damian is your grandson, don’t tell me you’re happy about doing this.”
Jason had been thinking out loud, but to his surprise – and Bruce’s from his flinch – Ra’s nodded. “It does pain me. Alas, hard decisions have sometimes to be taken.”
“You’re full of bullshit,” Jason accused, unbelieving. “If you’re so sad about it, why the hell didn’t you just go to Nanda Parbat instead?”
Silence fell on the room, except for a slight gasp Jason heard from Talia behind him. He lowered his gun, frowning. Was it possible that…?
“You don’t know where it is, do you?” Jason asked, incredulous. “You actually don’t know. But from your reaction, you know what it is.”
“I am aware of the temple’s existence, yes. As a matter of fact, I have been looking for the invisible map that is told to lead to it, as an alternative, but constituting the map took too long. I cannot wait any longer.”
Jason smirked. “A map, huh? What about a guide instead?”
Ra’s seemed to consider it, but then shook his head. “As glad I would be to find a solution which wouldn’t involve my grandson’s passing, you’ve just demonstrated that the bounds of honor don’t matter to you by intervening from afar in a duel.”
“Oh for god’s sake. It’s not honor if you’re making up the rules as you go.”
“Yet it is. Even if you give your word, won’t you take the first opportunity to leave me be and run away? No, I won’t risk it.”
“What if I gave my word?” Bruce suddenly said.
Jason stared at him. Bruce, giving his word for Jason’s sake? They barely knew each other! And Jason had just betrayed Bruce’s rules in front of everyone. Ra’s understood it was pointless to trust him. Why would this Bruce think otherwise?
Why would this Bruce trust Jason, when his own adoptive father wouldn’t?
“Very well,” Ra’s agreed.
As one, the leaguers put their weapons away, some still staring at Jason as in fear of him starting to fire on everybody again. To be fair to them, he kind of wanted to. What the fuck was happening?
As things were, he put away his guns. Even then, they didn’t entirely relax, but then neither did he.
“Alright, you have Batman’s word,” Jason said. “Then Talia can bring the kid back home while we go.”
“If the temple is not found…”
“Then it won’t be our damn fault. This goes both ways, Ra’s. I’m guiding you there, and you let Damian go. You can settle with my body if you aren’t happy. You should love it, it’s all pumped with pit’s magic already.”
Ra’s approached at those words, Bruce following half a step behind. Jason tensed but Talia put a hand on his shoulder and he instantly relaxed. She smiled. Damnit. Now she’d assume there was something between her and him, in the world Jason came from, which… Alright, there was, but not that way. Mostly.
Ra’s climbed the steps to the platform. Talia let Jason’s shoulder go to retreat toward Damian, embracing him protectively. Ra’s ignored her and went to Jason, looking at him in the eyes. Then his eyes went up, to the white streak lost among Jason’s otherwise black hair; and he nodded.
“I see.”
“You don’t see shit,” Jason contradicted him, just because, no. He didn’t. Even if there was green in his irises and if death had left a mark on him, it didn’t mean anything.
Except the fact that the pit, too, had left a mark. Obviously.
“So, are we going?”
Ra’s inclined his head. “Let’s go.”
Jason really hoped this would work. Now, it was him, putting his life on the line, fuck. What the hell was he thinking?
Talia took Damian away, ordering a few leaguers around to prepare their trip back go Gotham. She smiled at him again, passing next to him. Damian frowned, but nodded at him, once.
And Bruce – Bruce, too, was nodding approvingly.
Jason swallowed back the unwanted feelings of longing and delight which tried to reach him. This wasn’t his Bruce. And he didn’t care, in any case. Besides, he did intend to take Ra’s down at the first opportunity – that’s to say, after they’d arrive in Nanda Parbat proper. That way, they would have kept their word.
He just hoped Bruce would follow him on it, this time.
But he had good hope.
###
Earth 53 – Jason Wayne
Jason was very hard trying not to pace, keeping instead a confident smile on his face, not to worry Dick. The teenager had relaxed since their arrival, likely reassured that his adoptive uncle would somehow save Bruce even though they were thousands of miles apart, and Jason didn’t want to disabuse him of the notion. There was no point in both of them worrying.
“I’m glad to see you help from the computer,” Bruce suddenly told Dick, surprising Jason. “It’s invaluable, to have a second set of eyes like that.”
“I’d be much more useful on the ground,” Dick protested.
“Don’t be so sure. If everyone is at risk, who can call for help? Besides, you told us you were the one to spot Talia on the cameras, weren’t you? Neither Batman nor Jason would have been able to, from the streets.”
Dick grinned, delighted at the compliment. Jason fought back a smile.
“However,” Bruce continued. “I would have thought you’d be done by now. Isn’t tomorrow a school day?”
Dick’s face fell as quickly as it had lit up. “That’s not fair! Besides, Bruce isn’t back yet. How am I going to sleep?”
“Properly,” Jason intervened, thanking Bruce mentally for the reminder. “I’ll wake you up when we have news, if we have news. Considering how long the trip is, they might not get out of the mountains before tomorrow morning and you aren’t staying awake all night.”
“Bruce would have let me!”
“Bruce isn’t here. Come on,” Jason said, softening his done. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I didn’t go to work yesterday, so I’m fine, actually. Up to bed, little bird.”
It took some more coaxing to have him go, but half an hour later, Bruce and Jason were alone in the Cave. Jason collapsed in front of the computer.
“Fuck. What are we going to do?”
“Patrol,” Bruce suggested.
Jason stared at him. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? What if they call us?”
“The call will be transferred to your com and you won’t be able to teleport there in any case.”
This Bruce was way too reasonable, Jason decided. “You’re just trying to keep me distracted.”
Bruce didn’t protest, which was as good as an admission, coming from that one. He titled his head toward the cars. “So?”
“Why patrol? Nothing is happening in Gotham anyway,” Jason protested, but he stood up.
“Isn’t that worrying?”
Jason snorted. “Not really. Things are quiet, lately. I mean, not perfect, you know? But settling down.”
Something like curiosity passed on Bruce’s face. Jason smiled. Alright, now he did want to go.
“Come on, old man. Let me show you my Gotham.”
They didn’t take the car, just a couple of bikes. Those would be more practical if they had to move around in a rush. The streets were empty, at this time of the night, or rather, of the morning. It was well past midnight.
Jason parked behind a Wayne Entreprise building, then removed his helmet, breathing in the air. Not so polluted, since they managed to pass the car tax motion. Ironically, those bikes were going around Gotham illegally, as they hadn’t paid any taxes for them; though they did for the dozen or so vehicles Bruce officially owned.
Bruce parked next to him. They threw their lines and were on the roof in a couple of seconds. Jason grinned. This was more like it.
“Is that a park?” Bruce asked, pointing at a black dot with no street lamp, not far away.
“We repurposed some of the waste ground around here, as part of our effort to make the air more breathable. Incidentally, it also attracts families on Sundays and some shops have started to open at street level.”
“Must be a hub for crime.”
As Bruce said those words, a patrol car rode by, slowing down as it approached the park. Jason crouched to see as it parked and two officers got out, but apparently they were just patrolling, like they were.
“Not more than the wasteland way,” Jason answered at last. “But this is the financial district, it’s quieted down. What about heading for the Bowery instead?”
“Lead the way.”
Jason grinned then ran toward the edge of the rooftop, and jumped.
This was so freeing. Running around Gotham, knowing each of its bowels, stone and roof, its sky as well as its streets – just for that, he was glad to have followed his brother when he went to train all around the world. Even though they didn’t agree on the most efficient way to help the city, Jason would have never felt this if he had not been the Bat’s shadow.
They reached the Bowery without slowing down, Bruce following his path effortlessly, even though it was different from the city he knew. Moving like this in silence… It was shooting, in fact.
If only Bruce, his Bruce, had been safe back at the Cave, Jason would really have been able to enjoy it.
He finally stopped on the top of the clock tower, looking around to see if anyone needed help, but nobody was screaming, no gunshot echoed. Bruce peered down, frowning.
“You seem upset?” Jason asked.
“It’s too quiet.”
“Just another Thursday night,” Jason smiled.
“It can’t be that different,” Bruce said, meaning the city, their cities. Their Gothams.
“It isn’t,” Jason agreed. “The families are still out there, and the occasional madman. But crime is not an everyday occurrence anymore. It was the work of more than a decade, you know?”
“A decade.” Bruce’s sigh was so soft Jason could barely hear it. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m far from being done. And I wasn’t alone. Commissionaire Gordon’s help was priceless. And… Our father did a lot of ground work, you know?” Jason shrugged. “I also have the advantage of being able to protect myself, so I dare to try a lot of things most people wouldn’t. Of course, having access to Batman’s information network is also a plus.”
“Corporate espionage?”
“Benefits are only necessary to provide more money we can invest in Gotham,” Jason chastised. “No. But information is key, you know that much. Knowing the city, its darker side, it makes it easier to find where to act. What to build. What technology to work on next.”
Bruce shifted. Jason looked away from the city to turn to him. He seemed upset, still, but also thinking.
“Only a decade?”
“It’s not finished. It’s far from being finished. It never will be.”
“Yet. Another Thursday night, without crime,” Bruce said, echoing his earlier words.
“Not all criminals are a cowardly, superstitious lot. A lot of them felt like they didn’t have a choice, even if they did. They were broken by the city’s cogs, by the institutionalized poverty brought by a systemic pressure put on people by exploitation.”
“I wouldn’t have imagine you to be a socialist.”
Jason snorted. “I’m not. But there is capitalism, and there is excess. We have money. We have the possibility to redistribute.”
Bruce was nodding. Jason laughed, a bit derisive. “That’s all fine and well,” he added, “but what about all the other people who don’t? Luthor and others of the same type, who don’t provide good work conditions to their workers, who don’t care about those who are too sick to keep going? Not everybody cares about people, that’s why the system has to change.”
“Are you going to go into politics?” Bruce asked, and he sounded as if he meant it.
Jason blinked. He’d never thought about it, in fact. “And leave Gotham?”
“There are local politics. It would be a good place to start.”
“Are you advising me to?”
“You’re the one who is speaking about changing the system.” Bruce shrugged. “You did a good job so far.”
Jason smiled, feeling warm all over. That meant a lot, from Bruce. From any Bruce, but especially from this older one who was looking at his city from the perspective of an outsider, yet who loved her as much as he did.
“Maybe I will. I’ll think about it.” And he would. He’d never thought that far but, to be honest, he already was doing politics – just not in the sense Bruce meant. Wayne Enterprise was an amazing tool, but to go further? To actually change things?
Hell yeah.
“Alright, now that we’ve admired the city and my own genius,” Jason joked, “let’s finish patrol.”
Bruce nodded and they launched themselves again in the city sky, shadows between her silent towers.
Notes
"Zila al Xu'ffasch" means, I hope, the shadow of the bat. I don't speak Arabic, I apologize if I got the name wrong. This is just what I came up after about an hour of research on the internet.
I hoped it would be simple enough but what google translate sent me (zila alkhafafish) didn't match Damian's name (Ibn al Xu'ffasch), so I dig a bit deeper and came up with "zila/zili/zil" meaning shadow, "al" being the possessive and I kept "Xu'ffasch" because the readers would be familiar with it.
If anyone reading knows about Arabic, please let me know the correct phrasing so I can change it if I got it wrong.
Also sorry-not-sorry about the whole politics. This wasn’t where I expected their conversation to go at all XD
Comments are very welcome :)
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drkoestersmithrpg · 4 years
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Exchange - In Its Entirety
Peter walked Tony backward until the back of his knees hit the bed, then there wasn’t anywhere else to go. Peter’s bedroom eyes should have been sexy….. sexy?  They should have made Tony rock-hard.  (Rarely did he allow Peter to take the lead and now that he did he realized how much he was missing.)  But when Peter reached up to undo his tie he only felt dizzy.
Dammit, this wasn’t fair. They had made out on the couch. They had slowdanced to Ride On by AC/DC and a few other rock ballads on his playlist.   They had sat sipping wine looking out from the top of Stark Tower at all of New York City.  (Peter had sipped wine.  Tony had finished off the bottle and started on the next.
None of this had relaxed him at all (in fact his churning stomach was making him regret the wine.) The only reason he wasn’t calling it all off was because he had made a promise, and he didn’t go back on his word. Well, ok, maybe he did.  But not to Peter.
Peter – he looked like an angel, now, slowly pulling Tony’s tie away, keeping eye contact all the while. Why had he insisted on being so aggressive in bed, always pushing Peter down and taking control of all the action? Oh yeah, because he was an egotistical bastard, that was why.  Now Peter was tenderly laying the tie out at the foot of the bed and reaching for the buttons of Tony’s vest.  His serious eyes would take a grown man’s breath away.
Problem was, Tony couldn’t breathe anyway.
But that was ridiculous – of course Tony could breathe.  He made himself breathe.  He took in Peter’s scent, trying to remind himself over and over again why he was doing this – because Peter had asked him.  
And that was reason enough, wasn’t it?
His vest was finally unbuttoned and it was coming off his shoulders – dammit did he intentionally wear all these layers because he knew THIS was the night?  He had looked absurdly overdressed next to Peter in t shirt and skintight jeans.  He had been very shlubby just an hour before, having worked in the lab for a solid week, letting his beard grow out and rarely changing clothes.  But a few hours before he had showered and shaved and dressed in a panic.  
He wanted to look nice.
Tonight was the night.
And this was the moment – the vest was gone and now Peter (looking less and less like an angel by the minute, now looking something like a wet dream come true) was unbuttoning his shirt.
There was no undershirt beneath it.  That, at least, had been intentional.  
But it wasn’t working. No matter how many deep breaths he took, no matter how hard he tried to get to his happy face (it was in front of him – it was Peter – Peter was his happy place) his heart was pounding painfully and the room was spinning.  
Tony seized Peter’s wrists in his.  The boy was only half way down the shirt.
Peter wouldn’t protest, he knew (that was the problem.  Peter wouldn’t push.  Dammit, if only the boy would just force the issue, just use his superior strength, throw Tony down on the bed and TAKE his shirt off, then maybe he could get passed it, get passed himself, get passed this illogical absurdity.  Then again, he might just throw up.)  Despite the fact that this is what the boy wanted, despite the fact that it was the only thing Peter was asking for, he wasn’t able to comply. Logically it made no sense, he had been shirtless in bed (after the lovemaking) and obviously he had been shirtless in the shower (but it was an eternal twilight in the shower.  That’s what the light levels were set at, had been for years now.)
But logic didn’t live here. And, sadly, his devotion to Peter didn’t live here either.  He had to apologize.  
And, worse, he was going to have to tell Peter “no.”
No, you’re not going to be allowed to undress me.
No, the shirt doesn’t come off before sex.
No, you don’t get to see them, kiss them, touch them, press yourself against them or otherwise make me deal with the scars on my chest in any way shape or form.
Yes, you’ve been patient. Yes, you’ve been understanding. Yes, you’ve asked for almost nothing and I’ve asked for damn near everything.  Asked for painfully detailed accounts of every jockey that came before me, asked to be exclusive, asked for [one other thing.]  But take off my shirt under these conditions?  Sorry Kid, I’m just too damn vain to deal with your piddly little ‘desires’ while I make you bend to every damn one of my own.  Sorry Kid, that’s the breaks.
He opened his mouth to say it – Peter was standing there looking up into his face while he held the boy’s wrists tight – he opened his mouth to say “No.”  
And heard something entirely different come out.
“What do I get?”
Wait…that wasn’t right.
But Peter got it. “Anything, Tony,” Peter was whispering, waiting patiently to remove Tony’s shirt, just like Tony had promised.
“Anything?”
“Anything at all.”
Peter moved his mouth forward to kiss what little skin the shirt revealed, but Tony pulled away.  But now, instead of panicking, he was thinking. What could he ask the boy for, really, that they hadn’t already done?  Something that might actually constitute a sexual favor for the one Peter wanted from him now?  He had to get creative.
“All right.”  He took a deep breath – he found it remarkably easier now that he was racking his brain for sexual experiences instead of trying not to panic because his shirt was coming off.
“Tomorrow night, you have to find something on Netflix, you have to get comfortable and naked, and you have to let me eat your ass for as long as I want.  Might have to be something long on Netflix.  Might take hours.
That angelic grin, the one that been breaking Tony’s heart just moments before, spread all over Peter’s face.  “Ok,” he said breathlessly.  
Tony dropped his hands.
The original plan had been simple.  (When Peter had described his fantasy of Tony slowly and seductively taking off his tie and then his shirt while Peter watched, Tony had been all for it.  On the phone.  It sounded entirely doable on the phone.)  When Tony had announced, quite suddenly, that he wanted Peter to undress him instead he had seen that same, angelic, heartbreaking smile. Heartbreaking, because Peter seemed to think Tony was doing him some kind of favor.  The fact was, Tony couldn’t move his hands at all.
Now Peter had finished the unbuttoning, and was slowly and gently pulling Tony’s shirttails free from his trousers.  Ah gods, if Peter would only undo his belt now, pull his trousers down, ah gods he could just make love to the boy from there and they could forget about the rest of this nightmare.  But Peter was looking hungrily and what little he could see of Tony’s chest, and licking his lips.
“I want to kiss you there,” the boy was saying in a breathless voice.
“What do I get?”
Peter looked at him suddenly, surprised.  Tony waited for the look of irritation – the boy had been incredibly patient – but it never came.  Peter just looked longingly at the skin a few inches from his lips and said “Anything.”
“What is ‘anything’?”
“It means anything.”
“You don’t really mean that, Babyboy,” Tony said playfully, and then he did see that look of irritation.
“Yes I do Daddy, Peter growled, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder.  (Peter wanted to hide the angry look on his face, but he didn’t try to hide it in his voice.  He did not like it when Tony pointed out his level of inexperience – but if Peter was inexperienced, and if they were exclusive now, well whose fault is that?)
Tony apologized by wrapping his arms around the boy and pressing him close (all the while racking his brain to come up with something else.  Peter was a very willing lover – and everything Tony had wanted to do had already been done.  What else could he ask for, that would even come close to ….)
Then Tony was grinning.
He leaned down and whispered in Peter’s ear.
“In exchange, you have to tell me your dirtiest…. filthiest Daddy and Babyboy fantasy that you’ve ever had, ever.”
Peter started.  He looked up into Tony’s face, alarmed.
“But…..you didn’t…..you didn’t LIKE the Daddy/Babyboy game…..” he said in a small voice.
 “No no, I said I didn’t like the roll play.  I never said I didn’t like the fantasy.  Give that to me, make that mine, and you can have this.”
Peter’s face, equal parts alarm and determination, put Tony more at ease than any deep breathing method or happyplace ever could.  As he watched Peter make a decision he felt the knot in his stomach begin to think about unraveling.  
And when Peter nodded, the boy’s lips pressing against the narrow strip of skin on his chest didn’t feel obscene at all.  In a very strange way the tiny kisses felt good.
Peter made no move to move the shirt at all – and for that Tony was grateful.  He licked a stripe straight down and then back up again.  It meant he had to bend his knees in awkward ways (but no movement Peter ever made was awkward) but he managed to press kisses directly below Tony’s sternum and then work his way up until he was pressing a kiss against his adams apple, and licking him there.
His body pressed up against Tony’s body in a pleasurable way.
Which is why Tony grinned a little when Peter tried to open the left side of his shirt.
“Oh no, Babyboy,” he said, stopping the hand.  “If you want me to give you something you’ll have to give me something in return.”
Peter said nothing. His fingers continued to play with the fabric of Tony’s shirt, but now he was thinking carefully about what he wanted and what he was willing to give.
Tony noticed that, this time, he didn’t say “Anything.”
“What do you want?”
Tony wrapped his arms around the boy and thought carefully.  The truth is, he should just stop now – he had probably pushed Peter’s patience just as far as it would go, and other than what he had just suggested he really couldn’t think of anything Peter would be unwilling to do, that is, something that Tony would also be willing to pressure Peter into.   Peter was just so accommodating, letting Tony do just about anything …..except……
“Let me buy you a suit,” Tony said, his face suddenly breaking into a shiteating grin.
“Aaaaaaaaarrrg!” Peter shouted up into his vaulted ceiling, and suddenly Tony’s grin was turning into a laugh.  Peter leaned backwards and Tony’s hands went automatically to the small of his back and they moved like dancers, Tony supporting Peter as his eye-roll turned into a full head-roll turned into a full body-roll.
“No…..no!” Peter said, both hands fisting in the edges of Tony’s shirt as Tony held him and grinned. “That doesn’t work because that is a cardinal rule!  You are breaking a cardinal rule, and that is not fair!!  You are NOT my sugardaddy and you do not buy me things!  We established this!”
“Yes, yes, and the shirt stays on during sex, that is a hard rule too,” Tony insisted, laughing all the while.  The tension melted from his shoulders, from his whole body, as he described [insert lengthy description of how to get fitted for a suit here.]
“Fine,” Peter spat, meeting Tony’s eyes.  “But for that, I get to kiss you there too.”
There was silence for a moment.
Tony waited for his stomach to knot again, for his mouth to go dry like it had before.  He closed his eyes.  He took in Peter’s scent.  The boy’s body was still pressed up against him and suddenly he found that very pleasurable.  He opened his eyes and spoke.
“Kiss them, yes.
“But touching them costs you extra.”
Peter growled in a way that made Tony’s eyebrows go up and his breath catch.  For a moment he remembered that the boy in his arms was significantly stronger than he was – and that this boy could push him down to the bed and take what he wasn’t wiling to offer.  And that thought didn’t frighten him at all.  In fact, that thought was making him hard.
“What, then?” Peter growled, and Tony had to stop smiling long enough to think.
“All right,” he said, stalling for time.  He was trapped between Peter’s body and the edge of the bed, but as long as he was calculating he didn’t feel terribly trapped anymore.
“I want your password on A03.
“I want to see what you’ve bookmarked. I want to see what you read.”
Peter’s eyes went comically wide and suddenly Tony didn’t feel trapped anymore.  Tony felt inspired.
“You….get that…..this is not ……” he started to explain and Tony opened his shirt slowly and let it fall off his shoulders.
“…. its not all Hogwarts and Lord of the Rings erotica…. you get that, right?” Peter squeaked.  His eyes drank in all of Tony’s skin, just inches in front of his face.  He looked longingly, even as he struggled to explain.
“There might be some…..real people pairings in their too but…..but those are just fantasies…..” he continued, as Tony let his shirt fall off his arms and then onto the bed.
“….and none of that is real… you can’t judge a person by what they fantasize about …”
Tony was grinning from ear to ear.  His heart was still pounding, but it felt less like fear and more like elation.  
“Oh, so it turns out there is something you’re not willing to do?” Tony teased with a shiteating grin on his face, climbing backward onto the bed.
“No,” Peter growled and climbed into his open arms.
Tony laid himself out on the bed, and Peter ate him up like a feast.
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