#I USED TO WRITE NOTEBOOKS ABOUT EVERYONE AND THEIR CHARACTER TRAITS TO UNDERSTAND PEOPLE BETTER BECAUSE THEYRE CONFUSING

[that1notetaker]

I don't know How To People. Please someone tell me How To People

[the-guilty-writer]

Criminal Minds PRIDE Fics

Well, it's the end of Pride Month. Thank you to everyone who entered fics, new or old (or both)! This was my first time hosting a writing challenge and the amount of love surrounding it was truly incredible. From the range of writers who participated, to the the types of fics, it shows just how broad this community spans. I hope all of you are well, and safe, and know that you are extremely loved ❤.

This list is not exhaustive by any means. There are many other LGBTQ+ Criminal Minds fics out there, these are just the entries for the challenge. If you have a late entry (I know I do) don't be afraid to send it in! If you sent in a fic and it is missing, let me know that too!

Please let me know if you have issues with the accessibility of this list for any reason (I used fun colors again). I am happy to provide you with an accessible format.

(once again, my favorite CM Pride gif which is actually part of a set that I need to track down and reblog later)

Fics are under the cut!

Reader Insert Fics:

Note: I tried my best to indicate reader traits to make it easier to find fics. If you find any of these to be inaccurate, please let me know and I will edit it to be correct

Spencer Reid

(In)visible by @foxy-eva: (fem!reader, bisexual!reader) There are a lot of obstacles you had to face as a queer woman but you never thought that falling in love with a man was one of them.

Bigotry Kills by @staygoldsquatchling02: (trans masculine non-binary!reader) While on a case in Tennessee, Spencer and Y/N accidentally reveal that Y/n is transgender to an unsub who has made it his mission to ride his small town of people he views as “less than himself”.

Ocean by @cinnamon-lesbian: (intersex!fem!reader) The reader can’t seem to love herself. Spencer lets her in on how amazing she really is.

I'd Better Ask Emily by Gill: (daughter!reader, lesbian!reader) When Spencer goes looking for your school notebook and accidentally reads your diary instead he goes to the BAU bisexual badass for help.

Emily Prentiss

Freedom-Seeking Hearts by @/foxy-eva: (fem!reader) For how much longer will Emily Prentiss and Fem!Reader be able to contain their freedom-seeking hearts?

Jennifer Jareau

Somewhere Underlined by @railingsofsorrow: (fem!reader) jennifer jareau would be the death of you someday, you know that and you'd probably let her. surprisingly, you weren't aware that you caused that same reaction on her, too.

Aaron Hotchner

So Much by Gill: (teen!reader) reader comes out to their dad as gay and his reaction is not what they expected.

---

Character x Character Fics:

Aaron Hotchner x Derek Morgan

second chance by @masterwords: It's time for Hotch to tell Jack about his relationship with Derek. He's understandably concerned that it could go bad, but hopefully nothing some chocolate chip pancakes won't help. (Spoiler Alert: It doesn't go bad. There are some rough patches here but this is a story with a happy ending.)

Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Love can rise out of the ashes by @satchels-and-socks: Spencer is heartbroken after Maeve. Spencer locks himself away and becomes a shell of his formal self. Derek realized something and is determined to show Spencer that life goes on and how someone other than Maeve is truly in love with him.

Jennifer Jareau x Emily Prentiss

The Way You Felt by @andiebeaword: While on a flight to help Spencer, exes J.J. and Emily ultimately come to terms with their buried feelings.

Jennifer Jareau x Tara Lewis

Soft & Sweet by @/foxy-eva: A confession between JJ and Tara leads to a night full of soft and sweet moments. (includes smut, 18+, minors DNI)

Emily Prentiss x Clara Seger

I Felt a Million Things When I First Met You by @baubeautyandthegeek: The one where Emily finally comes clean about just how come Clara’s always so willing to help.

Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

There Are Secrets That We Still Have Left To Find (on Ao3) by @starzzyeyed: Spencer Reid is seven years old the first time he comes out to anyone. Three times Spencer comes out, across three different points in his life, all with three very different outcomes.

[alluringjae]

all i do is wait - kdy

All I Do Is Wait | So Close

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

⤑ pairing: doyoung x female reader

⤑ word count: 22.7k

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

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

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

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

i cried so much in the process.

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

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

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

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

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

And leave you behind.

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

1948

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sh-”

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

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

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

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

“Women are only meant to stay at home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1950

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

“Oh c’mon, let’s try this out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Doyoung.”

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

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

1951

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was his last shot.

“Guide me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you offering me then, Manwol?”

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

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

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

His last letters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, are you sure?”

“I just need to see her, Jeno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His newborn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Areum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1954

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you implying?”

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

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

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

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

“Doyoung.”

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

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you be okay until then, Doyoung?”

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

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

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

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

To count, he gave you almost 50 dream calls.

The late 1950s-1960s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, over there.”

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

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

“Areum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what about the deities?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise!”

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

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

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

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

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

This was his sign to bring her home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eonjebuteoinji geudaereul bomyeon….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one will ever match up to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like what you and Doyoung aspired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just can never let him go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1973

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

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

Like mother, like daughter.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t scared of the storylines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you an only child in your family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a fun dream, it seems to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Areum!”

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

“Yes, tokki?”

Compiling his thoughts, here goes nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever, you'll stay in my heart.”

1980s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah, you take that back.”

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

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

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

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

“Kim Doyoung, you tease.”

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

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

Early 1990s

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

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

“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a good thing she did.

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

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

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

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

This was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)!”

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

And there he was, just along the hallway.

This was no longer a dream.

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

“Doyoung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, Doyoung...”

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

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

“You are asking for it now, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her actual father was in this dream with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make sure you wait for me this time.” 

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | i.

Your mother tried to keep you disciplined. But, it was hard to control a kid who was using magic as if it didn’t take time and skill - in which, to you it was. By the time you were seven, the funny old man told you that your family was Merlin.

Word Count:  1,727

A/n: HERE WE GOOO, REMUS SON SERIES IS OUT Yes, this is like the majority of characters live AU. Think we’re going with movies and there will be a lot of hindsight and flashbacks - The title was inspired by the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons. Anyone wanting to be on the tag list, message me! Scheduled for every Friday; 12:15am (BST).  Also, feedback is appreciated!

Next >

You were in bed, early morning with the sun beaming down upon you. You lay there still, it was the day that you were moving Harry from his home to the burrow. You could hear your dad clatter about in the kitchen whilst your step mum fiddled with the radio, hopefully finding suitable music to relax to. You got up to look out your window, sighing as you got up from the bed. Taking a quick shower and dressing for the day. 

Just like Hermione had told you to, you had packed a back for the group, promising to join them in the hunt for Horcruxes. You cleaned your room, the night before. Remus could hear a lot of shuffling in your room, he thought better to leave you alone. You put your bag on your neatly made bed with your wand next to it. You hadn’t told your dad you were joining, but you think he knows by now as you descend down the stairs.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Remus says, surprised as he cooks up breakfast whilst Tonks smirks at you, “Are you alright? Having a fever?”

You rolled your eyes, you wished, but the truth is nerves were setting. Allowing for little sleep for you to get. You shake your head as you sit at the table, whilst Tonks ruffles your hair. Breakfast was almost silent, you didn’t say much as you finished your food. 

“Got something on your mind?” Remus asked, finally, as Tonks does the cleaning up - waving her wand as Remus rolls his eyes at his wife.

You smiled softly, thinking you’re going to miss mornings like that, and mornings when it is loud with your parents, you look at your dad, “No.”

Remus narrows his eyes, he knows you and can see right through your lies, but leaves you be, “Alright, we’ll be leaving soon. You’ll see Sirius again!”

You smiled to yourself, you like Sirius, he teased you relentlessly during the summer before the fifth year - he did live up to being family, he was your father’s best friend after all. You also get to see your friends again, after a month of no to little contact, missing Ron and Hermione dearly. You went back upstairs, slowly this time, taking time to process your surroundings.

Your father kept a lot of pictures of you growing up. You stayed with your mother life before Hogwarts. In fact, you were Harry’s first friend, and your barely ever saw him when you were a child. Your mother sent pictures to your dad, stills and moving. Your dad kept a photo album of your growing, despite not being in your life as much as he liked. 

Your mum always sent him a batch of pictures at the end of the month. Little drawings you made for your dad, creations and such. As said before, you were friends with Harry. But, you promised to your mother that you wouldn’t say anything. Harry would see you once or twice a month, your mother played it off like you were a sickly child that couldn’t leave the house and you knew of Harry’s situation. 

From a young age, you had excelled in magic at a young age. Which is why you were frequently visited by Dumbledore as you grew up. At the age of seven that is when you found out your true meaning, your true purpose. A lot of responsibility for a child.

You and your mother were descendants of Merlin, and rumours had spiralled that someone just as powerful as Merlin would lead the way, to make an example of the wizardry world. Your mother was as average as one could be, as did your uncles, aunts, cousins from that side as well. But, the moment you were born, with the eyes of your father, you had shown ability surpassing your age. 

Dumbledore would observe you when you were five, often coming around, you named him a funny old man as you played tea with him. Filling the cups up with chocolate milk without a wand and it was no accident, with the twinkle in your eye - Dumbledore knew you were something different. 

Your mother tried to keep you disciplined. But, it was hard to control a kid who was using magic as if it didn’t take time and skill - in which, to you it was. By the time you were seven, the funny old man told you that your family was Merlin. 

You knew of Merlin, your mother told tales of him before you went to sleep. The funny old man told you that you would do so many great things in life. At the age of seven, you just wanted to be a kid, and they let you. But, when you turn nine, it seemed like you were always indoors to read, to learn. You figured out you were dyslexic, and yet, you were the only one who was able to read the book of Merlin, he had written centuries ago.

His work, his spells he had created for himself, all passed down with unknown translation, and you found yourself understanding it. Whilst you sometimes struggle with English, you had excelled in runes, both Merlin’s and ancient, and Latin. Your mother died in the summer just before your first year, you were distraught. 

Death Eaters had invaded your home, you hid in the chest where Merlin’s work was kept. You came out of the chest to see Dumbledore, saying you’ll be living with your father. You never wanted to leave Harry, but there was a comforting feeling that you would see him on the Hogwarts train. 

So, here you were in your small room. Your single bed that was positioned under the window, it was cleared and neatly done up. Your wardrobe, chest of drawers and desk was cleared. Your bookshelves neatly presenting your books, your notebooks that you had been filling out since you were nine of your own spells, your own creations, following in the footsteps of Merlin. 

Notebooks you wrote in the unknown runes as well, drawings of diagrams. Notebooks you had written about the years in Hogwarts, neatly in order of what year. How you had unlocked all Merlin’s cursed vaults, also, your adventures with Harry and the other two. Some of your notebooks kept clean, others were battered. You sighed, looking in the mirror one last time, a picture of you and your father taped onto it. 

“(Y/n)!” Remus called you from downstairs, “We have to go!”

You pulled on your jacket, grabbing your bag and wand. Headed downstairs, closing your bedroom door for the very last time in a long while, to see your dad and step-mum with a small bag. You smiled tightly at them, taking a deep breath and apparating to the Burrow.

You had kept your stuff in Ron’s room, the night was slowly setting in, so everyone was going to get ready to meet at Harry’s home. You stood outside, Hermione gripping your hand.

“Ready for one last adventure?” You asked your two best friends.

Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Hagrid and Kingsley also exit the house and wait outside with you and your two best friends. They looked at you, giving you a tight smile. You found comfort within them, they had your back like you had Harry’s back with them. Arthur, the twins, Bill and Fleur all came out last.

Mad-Eye looked at the group, counting everyone, before saying everyone was present in the movement of Harry Potter. There were going to meet more aurors at Harry’s, to accompany them in the great flight. You had given Mad-Eye your broom as you looked at the people surrounding you.

After, in a hypothetical good situation, Harry defeats Voldemort. The country, perhaps the world would have to turn to look up at you. A young adult, still finding his way. You looked at the faces, faces you won’t see for many months. You often wonder if that’s what Ron and Hermione were thinking. You looked at Sirius, still the joker he ever was. He gives you a tight smile, his eyes glimmering.

Then you looked at Tonks, your step-mum. You weren’t bothered at the age gap between you and her, many were surprised at the fact. Some were not, after all, if you weren’t prioritising Gryffindor traits, your friends would vouch for you for Hufflepuff before you could even find yourself in Slytherin like Merlin. You welcomed Tonks with open arms, she even lets you call her Dora. Despite the age difference, she does hope one day you can call her mum - even if yours had passed many years before.

Then, you turn to look at your dad. The kind and gentle soul he’ll always be. And yet, he is full of rage as well. Your father was loving, he had wanted to spend your childhood with you. But, your father could not let your mother provide for him and he wanted to keep you safe from the monster he was, though you never had seen him as a monster. He was your father, and that’s all you’ll ever see him as. You’ll miss him when you leave, you won’t be able to write him letters or such. You see him look at you.

There’s pride in his eyes.

You hate it because you see a lot of pride in many people’s eyes. Whilst his pride is that you are his miracle boy, his son, the man he has raised you to be. The other look of pride had scorn you, often at times, the pride in their eyes was because you were following some powerful wizard that they expected you to act and be like.

You want to make a name for yourself, but it’s hard when no one knows that you have a name to follow. 

Responsibilities, why must they tear down the youth of some child, some teenager?

Perhaps, that’s why you and Harry had fallen in love. 

“Everyone knows the plan?” Mad-Eye asked, once more for confirmation, as many answers back with a murmur.

The plan, who didn’t know the plan? It was frustrating as all hell with all the reruns of the damn plan. You sighed as you watched everyone apparated away, you looked at your father with a smile - see you on the other side. 

[antialiasis]

Jean’s Family Interview

I noticed a while back that, although I posted a link to this before when I wrote it in 2016, it was just linked to the post in the Serebii thread where it was originally posted, and the link is no longer functional since an upgrade to the Serebii.net forums. It might be possible to just update the link in that post, but it’s kind of annoying that it’s offsite anyway; I’ve been wanting to archive this one properly on here with the rest of the non-canon Morphic extras. I’m still pretty fond of it; several favorite bits in here that just really tickle me.

This was originally posted in a “Character interviews” thread; the questions Jean asks actually came from Negrek, who started the thread, as interview questions to ask any character, but I wound up writing it as an in-character interview. It takes place sometime pre-chapter seven. Featuring: Dave explaining how fine he is, his dubious parenting skills, Jean being cute, and their relationship.

Dave was drinking his coffee and reading the paper on a Saturday morning (for some value of morning) when something touched his shoulder. He jumped to turn around, yanking the cup with him and sending half of the coffee splashing into his lap.

“Shit fuck Jesus Jean, where’d you come from.” She was standing behind him, clutching a notebook to her chest, the grin on her face vanishing. “Don’t do that. Christ.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, worried, hanging her head, ears lowered, puppy eyes in full force. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to…”

He grabbed a tissue from the kitchen counter and tried to wipe most of it off his jeans. He waved his other hand at her. “It’s… it’s okay, I’m fine. It was getting cold anyway.” He sighed. “What’d you want?”

Instantaneously, she perked up again. “I had English class yesterday,” she said, “and we’re supposed to interview a family member over the weekend! Can I interview you? I made questions and everything!” She proudly held her notebook forward.

“Oh.” He slumped back into his chair. Well, he could change his jeans when this was done, he supposed. It wasn’t like she had any other family members to interview. “Yeah, sure, Jean. What kind of interview?”

“Just an interview,” she said, shrugging.

“Are you going to read it out in class or what?”

“No. Just submit it to the teacher.”

“All right.” Jean’s teacher didn’t like him much, as far as he’d gathered from the parent-teacher conferences, but hopefully she wouldn’t take that out on her. “Fire away.”

Her brow furrowed.

“That means ask the first question, Jean. It’s metaphorical. Nothing to do with fire.”

“Ohhh.” Jean’s eyes lit up with understanding as she gave a sagely nod. She sat down at the other side of the kitchen table with her notebook and pencil and cleared her throat. “How would you introduce yourself to a stranger?”

“Uh. David Ambrose, Heywood Labs?”

Jean nodded, writing eagerly. “Next question… where do you live?”

“What.” She was looking earnestly at him. “What… you know where we live, Jean. So does your teacher, for that matter; it’s in the school registry. What kind of interview question is that?”

“She said we can ask questions we know the answers to so we can get them in the person’s own words.”

“But…” He stopped himself. “All right, if somebody else who doesn’t know that just, like, stopped me in the street and asked that, I’d say… no, hang on, that’s… no. What kind of interview question is that?”

Jean brought on the worried puppy eyes again. “Are my questions bad?”

“No, no, they’re fine, Jean.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just say Grace City. That’s all. If random people you don’t know ever ask you where you live, that’s what you should say.”

“Not the street address?”

“No. Only tell that to people who really need to know it, all right? There could be some bad people out there who’d… Look, just give me the next question.”

“Okay.” Jean carefully wrote the two words. “What’s your family like?”

“Uh. Family like what? Family like you, or family like your g…” She looked up at him, curious. “One daughter. That’s all.”

“You’re supposed to say what she’s like,” Jean said, grinning.

“She’s beautiful and smart and half-Vulpix and one day she’s going to Flamethrower anyone who asks her personal questions in the street.”

“Yeah!” She pumped her fist, pure delight on her face as she eagerly started to write. Dave couldn’t help smiling a bit. He reached across the table and ruffled her curls.

“All right, here’s the next one,” Jean said when she laid down her pencil. “What do you want to do with your life, and how does what you’re doing now relate to that?”

Dave blinked. That was quite a shift. “Uh, well, what I’m doing now is raising you, and doing research on how you guys work and why you developed the way you did, and working on developing ways to make things easier for you, and also trying to fight for you to have a decent life like everyone else because some ignorant swathes of the population think you’re not entitled to basic fucking human rights.”

Jean nodded, her pencil moving meticulously across the paper.

“You know when I use words like that, you don’t write them down, right?”

“Yup.”

“Great, smart girl.”

“And the rest?” she asked, looking up.

“The rest of what?”

“The question.” She looked down to read it again. “What do you want to do with your life, and how does what you’re doing now relate to that?”

“Well…” He paused. “I expect this is what I’m going to be doing for the rest of my life. I mean, I better fucking hope you outlive me.” It struck him as he said it that most of the morphs aged faster than normal, Katherine and Mia fastest of all, Jean too. They couldn’t know anything about what the morphs’ lifespans would be like, it was pointless to even think about and they all knew that, but –

“Oh. But what did you want to do before you made us?”

“I don’t know, just… science, research. Something to keep my brain occupied.”

Jean nodded and wrote. “Next… what’s your most unusual trait?”

“Heh.” He scratched his head. “Well, I figured out how to combine human and Pokémon DNA and it’s probably going to lead to the biggest medical advances in centuries. That’s pretty fucking unique. Also, I can string together a logical argument. You’d be surprised how rare that is.”

“What’s a sure way to make you angry?”

He grimaced. “How about shoving religion in my face? Don’t even get me started.”

Jean nodded. “What’s your biggest accomplishment?”

“See question… whatever the question was where I talked about combining human and Pokémon DNA and the biggest medical advances in centuries.”

“What decision do you most regret?”

His first thought, of course, was in no way an appropriate thing to say in this interview, or to Jean at all, ever. And, he realized upon the reflection it took to complete that thought, not actually true.

“I…” This was harder than it should be, God. “I regret yelling at you earlier,” he ended up saying when he couldn’t think of anything better. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Jean said brightly. He tilted his head to see what she was writing: I regret yelling at you –

“I… are you sure you should write that?”

“It’s what you answered,” she said.

“Okay, no, hold on, I…” He stopped; she looked at him expectantly. Well, so what if her teacher would think he was a terrible parent. She thought that anyway. And if he went around taking back apologies to his daughter because they made him sound bad, she was probably right. “…Never mind.”

“Next question?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think is the most important thing for other people to understand about you?”

“Huh. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, sometimes people are afraid of me or think I’m weird because I’m part Vulpix,” Jean said. “So I’d want them to understand that I’m just a girl like them and I’d only hurt bad guys.”

Dave raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t think I’m terribly misunderstood,” he said. “I say what I mean, and if people don’t like it, tough. Who cares what they think, anyway? You shouldn’t care what any of those people think about you. They’ll never understand you’re just a girl like them, but it doesn’t matter because they’re idiots.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. Again he looked to see exactly what she was writing; she left it at I say what I mean, and if people don’t like it, tough. Part of him wanted the teacher to see the rest too, but it was probably better this way.

“Last question,” she said when she looked up. “If you could change just one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

“Change? I don’t want to change anything about myself. If I wanted to, I would’ve changed it already.”

“But what if you wanted something like a tail or a fire sac?”

“Well, I don’t. No offense.”

“There’s nothing you’d want to change that you can’t?”

“No, why would I? I look fine, I can do everything I want to do, what’s not to like? What, do you want to change stuff about yourself? Because you’re perfect as you are.”

Jean shrugged slightly. “I wish I screwed up less,” she said, averting her gaze. “I always make my friends mad at me and I don’t understand why. And if that coffee had been hot I could’ve really hurt you, couldn’t I?” She looked back up at him, eyes glistening with tears.

“What? Oh, no, Jean, that’s not…” Shit. He never knew what to say in these moments. He leaned forward on the table. “Look. It’s not your fault. None of it’s your fault, all right? If your friends get mad at you for no reason, that’s their problem, not yours. They’re… they’re probably just prejudiced morons like the rest of them and don’t deserve you anyway, okay? And forget about the coffee. Just… pretend that never happened. Okay?”

“But it did,” she said miserably.

“Look, everyone screws up sometimes. It’s okay. It’s no big deal.”

“Even you?” she sniffled.

“Well, yeah, sure, sometimes.”

Jean wiped her face with her hand. “Okay.”

“Great. Is that the end of the interview, then?”

“Yeah.” Jean nodded as she stood up and picked up her pencil and notebook. Then her ears perked up again. “The teacher said next week we might do a follow-up interview with more questions. You’ll do that too, right?”

Dave sighed. “Yeah, sure. Just let me know.”

Jean bounced off to her room, back in her regular mood. He shook his head. Better be prepared for that, then.

Now, though, he needed to change his jeans and make another cup of coffee.

[igotyoukth]

After a break up./ “Save me”

Masterlist. 

Seokjin

The boys were standing in formation, only Seokjin seemed lost. He didn't even know what song they were getting ready for. Not that he cared. The last hour, he had been fighting with his body more than usual, and with the boys as well. He bumped into Hoseok a few times, which was nearly impossible. But Hoseok and the other boys showed patience. Because they knew, that Seokjin was struggling with more than the choreography. It had been a few days since they witnessed you storm out of the dorm, leaving their oldest brother in anger and tears. No one had the guts to ask what was going on, not with their Hyung shooting flames with his eyes.

"Hyung, here," Taehyung gestured at the spot next to him, helping Seokjin with the formation. But this one wasn't ready to accept any help,

"Do you think I don't know?," he fought back, and Taehyung and the other boys next to him widened their eyes in shock over the sudden arguing.

"Yes, it seems like you don't know, at all, Hyung," Namjoon answered, who had enough of the weird and dangerous atmosphere,"We understand it's not an easy time for you, but the comeback is around the corner, so you better get yourself together?"

"Kim Namjoon, I'm older than you!"

"And I'm the leader, Hyung." Namjoon had been silent about the whole situation, giving his brother some space, but maybe it was the wrong approach.

"So I have to fight through work, with my head spinning like crazy?," Seokjin responded with a softer voice this time. He always respected Namjoon as the leader, trusted in his words blindly. He was the only one to wake him up a little.

"Work hard to forget about it for a while," Namjoon didn't dare to say 'forget about her' instead of 'it',"and afterwards we will have our talk in the evening."

"But first you have to tell me, which song is next."

Yoongi

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was being a petty person. Since you two broke up, he was all about rolling eyes, talking back and correcting people. But this wasn’t that far from his usual character, the boys tried to believe. But then they saw Yoongi stacking boxes and boxes in the living room. Yoongi was juggling a seemingly heavy box on top of another, when his eyes met with Jimin. As the atmosphere was quite great in the living room apart from Yoongi’s mysterious actions, the younger didn’t think much and started talking.

“What are you doing, Hyung? Moving out?,” Jimin joked and the rest of the boys laughed with him. But not for long. Because Yoongi started to blush and exit the room. They exchanged curious looks, until Jin forced Jungkook to open one of the boxes. So Jungkook stood up, unsure if it was the right thing and also scared that Yoongi would come back and scold him. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook didn’t adress anyone especially,”Yoongi Hyung became weird.” The boxes were filled with everything and nothing at the same time. It was mostly junk from Yoongi’s studio they recognized, that seemed to be there forever. There were figures, old equipment and headphones. 

“At least he isn’t moving out,” Namjoon said as nothing seemed important. 

“But did he always have so much pink stuff?,” Jin asked, seeing the common trait of the content. 

“Oh, isn’t that what his girlfriend got him for his birthday?,” Taehyung asked and picked one of the action figures,”Yoongi Hyung made fun of it, because of how unpopular and poorly made it was.” “Put that back in,” Yoongi had entered the room,”I’m sending them back to their original owner.”

The boys had guessed that things weren’t going well with the two of you, when you stopped coming by and Yoongi didn’t run to his phone everytime it rang. 

“Did you two break up?,” Hoseok asked.

“Jungkook, come and pick up the last box, it’s too heavy,” Yoongi only responded. That was the only answer they would get, they knew that too well. So again, the youngest was forced to do something he hated. “It’s his fault for having a big body, but being a scaredy cat,” Jin whispered to Namjoon about Jungkook.

The studio seemed naked with all the stuff outside, the other boxes must’ve included more than old stuff then, Jungkook thought. “Did she gift you so much, Hyung?” “No, but I also don’t like to see the stuff, that she always touched or stuff, that smells like her.”

“But,” Jungkook saw little perfume bottles -almost empty- on the shelf,”Isn’t this-” He coulnd’t finish his question, not with Yoongi staring at him like that. 

“I bought them, so I am not returning them, do you know how expensive they were?”

“Of course, Hyung.”

Hoseok 

It was no secret, that even his own members feared Hoseok sometimes. The way his eyes caught every mistake and how he could hide criticism behind his smile. But now he was even sharper and didn’t bother smiling. Jimin had to admit, he had cursed at you a few times because of it. 

“Won’t you work harder?,” Hoseok yelled to be heard over the music. Or to simply let out some of his anger. Because he developed a lot of it lately. And working hard and yelling helped. 

“I’m done! One more routine and I’m dying!,” Jin dramatically said and laid down on the floor. “Me too!,” the rest of the boys joined, so that the floor was filled with the sweaty bodies of grown men. 

“Are you serious? The comeback is next month!”

“Really? I thought it was tomorrow by the way we were training!,” Taehyung said sarcastically. 

“Ya! It’s not time to joke around,” Hoseok yelled.

“It’s not time to joke, it’s not time to eat or laugh or breath,” Jungkook whined. 

“Maknae!,” Hoseok warned. 

“Hope-a, we did more than enough, let’s be understanding,” Namjoon tried to calm Hoseok down. 

“I saw you do the wrong moves around the two minute mark!” “Hyung, I start to hate your ex now, you know,” Jimin spoke without thinking. 

“YA! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? WHY BRING HER UP?”

“It’s because of her, don’t deny it! Working helps you forget about her, am I wrong?,” Jimin spoke, even though knowing he would regret it afterewards. 

“Really, Hoseok, stop torturing yourself. Let’s go grab a drink, otherwise there won’t be any healthy men around for comeback next month,” Yoongi said. 

Namjoon

It was so ironic, that Namjoon had to laugh out loud. In the past, when he wrote songs about heartbreak, breakups or love in general, it seemed easier. No, it was easier. It was easier to imagine the pain, lose himself in lyrics and melodies. But now his own abilities betrayed him. He was suffering from his breakup with you, so writing about it should heal him a little. But there he was, staring at the blank walls in the studio. 

“It’s so unfair,” he spoke to himself, something he did very often, since you left,”Am I not in great pain? I am. Am I not a musician? I am. So what’s the deal, Namjoon-a?” 

Telling the boys that you broke up had been easy for him, he had joked that they should look forward to a great album à la Taylor Swift. 

“You can do it,” he tried to make himself work one more time, with no success. It was the same wall, the same notebook, the same hole in his brain again. 

And nothing seemed to help, not the walk in parks, museums, not even the alcohol. It was even worse with it. Because he was reminded of you, and not in a good way to produce new songs. He couldn’t fit your smile or laugh into a song. 

He felt so lost, that he did something that seemed very, very dumb. To others at least, because it didn’t feel like a mistake to him to dial your number and wait for you to answer. 

“Namjoon,” you answered the phone only a second after Namjoon called. 

“Hi, how are you?,” Namjoon asked like it was any other day, before you broke up. A little small talk followed after that, until you noticed his urgency behind his voice. 

“What is it?,” you asked

“I can’t seem to write, I feel empty,” he confessed.

“It must be me then, the problem I mean.”

“Probably, I wrote only perfect songs, before you left me.” 

“Your fans will hate me.” “I think so.”

“Do you hate me?”

“You wish.” “There you have it, use it for the next song.”

“You are heartless, aren’t you?,” Namjoon laughed sadly.

“And there goes another song idea. I’m hanging up, call me after you finish.”

Jimin 

He gave up. On everything. So it didn’t bother him, that the manager was announcing the departure time in a rather annoyed voice, or that Jungkook had threatened to kill him. Even though it didn’t seem like he joked. 

“Tell them, I broke my leg or something,” Jimin said, not moving from the couch. 

“The paparazzi saw you walk in just perfectly, but I can break it now, if you want,” Jungkook responded. Jin was holding onto his shoulders, as a precaution.

“Please do that,” Jimin answered back. 

“Manager, cancel the interview,” Namjoon finally announced. Everyone froze, even Jimin didn’t know what to do. The last few days, everyone either babied him or fought him for his behaviour. But the leader didn’t interfer at all.

“Ugh, okay I’ll come out, but don’t expect me to speak or smile.”

“No, I mean it, we gave you enough time,” Namjoon nodded to the manager to proceed with the cancelation,”We have to talk this out.”

“Why are you making such a big deal of it?,” Jimin stood up.

“Jimin, look at me,” Namjoon ignored Jimin’s question,”Did you start this because of her?,” he didn’t need to mention your name, Jimin still understood and shook his head,”Do you think of her when you perform? Or did we come this far because of her?” Again Jimin shook his head, growing smaller by each question. 

“Then why the hell are we suffering because of her?,” Namjoon was shouting now, so that Jin moved away from Jungkook to Namjoon, to hold him back now. 

“Hyung,” Jimin fell onto his knees,”I don’t want this either.” “Let’s go on stage, working always helped us in the past. And afterwards we’ll talk it out.”

Taehyung

“Yoongi, stop biting your nails,” Jin repeated for the third time. 

“But he is making me nervous,” Yoongi answered, putting his hands on the table,”How can they- I mean how he stay so calm about this? Didn’t they almost print the wedding invitations?”

“We did and it’s better than ending it on the wedding day,” Taehyung’s voice made the two eldest members jump,”I’m okay, so don’t worry.” Taehyung patted on Yoongi’s back, and left the kitchen after grabbing some snacks. He didn’t act differently, he came out to eat, watch TV. Maybe he spent too much time gaming, but he argued that he did have the time now that you broke up. The situation was effortlessly natural, that Yoongi almost went crazy. He had to do something about it, as soon as possible.

It was the next day, after their schedule and usually they would drive back in groups of three or four. But when Taehyung entered the car, not only Jimin and Jin joind him, but the rest of the boys as well. Yoongi was sitting on th driver’s seat. 

“We’re going to the sea!,” Jungkook screamed and Jimin added sound effects to it.

“No, drive to the dorms I have a game tournament scheduled!,” Taehyung said, but the boys immediately pretended to fall asleep. “Hyung, please,” he tried once more, directed to Yoongi in the front. He only told him to sleep as well. 

“We arrived,” Yoongi yelled after a few hours, and everyone jumped up and opened the doors. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s hands and dragged him to the beach. It was late at night, noone there to see or hear them.

Jungkook didn’t stop until they reached the waves. He then turned around to Taehyung and suddenly looked very serious. 

“Now you talk, scream at the waves!”

“Why? What did they do?,” Taehyung tried to joke, not convincing anyone. 

“Let it all out,” Jimin whispered and patted Taehyung’s back,”we’ll be by the car, because it’s freaking cold, but you better return with teary eyes and your voice gone.” Before Taehyung could react, the boys already started walking back. He had to follow suit. So he kneeled into the moist sand, allowing his emotions to crawl out after a long time. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke to the waves,”I’m so sorry,” he repeated, a little louder this time. ���I’m so so so sorry.” And finally tears left his eyes, the first ones he allowed himself since you two broke up. 

Jungkook

Maybe it should’ve been Hoseok or Namjoon, who saw Jungkook in the kitchen that night. This way noone would’ve cried or started a fight this weird and pointless. But of course, it was Jin who caught Jungkook, who was eating from the fridge like a starving animal. 

“JK! At least close the door, if you’re done eating!,” Jin yelled at Jungkook for leaving the fridge open for so long,”and get a glass for the juice!”

“It wasn’t even five seconds, let me breath!,” Jungkook yelled just as loudly.

“Breath? You let yourself breath, take a break from eating nonstop!” “Huh! I came back from the gym, I was starving- STARVING!”

“Whoa, how can you be so-,” Jin started, but stopped himself from talking, because of meaningless their discussion was. 

“Childish? You wanted to say childish, right? You are just like her!,” Jungkook suddenly started whining and slammed the door shut. 

The boys didn’t have to ask Jungkook about the breakup. He had made it very obvious what was going on. He became very sensitive to everything, overate most of the time and rushed to the gym afterwards. And it didn’t need a genius to understand, that Jungkook being childish had been the reason for the breakup. 

“No, I didn’t want to say -” “Childish? Sure, sure, I bet in your head it goes ‘Maknae JK, young JK, cute JK’, the fact that you call me JK and not Jungkook shows me no respect.” Jungkook was pouting with Nutella smeared on his face, so it was hard for Jin not to laugh then and there. 

“But you are the Maknae.”

“Hyung!”

“What’s wrong with acting like that? It’s part of you, and if someone has a problem with that, good thing that you broke up.”  “But Hyung, you should act your age sometimes,” Jungkook responded, a lot more calm now. 

“We should do a lot of things, like wipe off the Nutella from your face, but if that’s what makes you happy, forget about her.”

[intothewilde]

⌠ ellie bamber, 20, cis female, she/her ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, GIORGIA WILDE! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in UNDECIDED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (first edition books, walking in the rain, candy-scented lip gloss, getting lost in a museum, millions of twinkling city lights). when it’s the (sagittarius)’s birthday on 12/13/1999, they always request their CHERRY PIE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

she can’t do shit with knives yet but it’s a great gif, don’t @ me) but DO like this if you want me to hit you up for plots

@gallagherintro​

tw: implied neglect, brief mentions of mental illness and addiction

ok! so giorgia was born and raised in new york city. both of her parents came from extremely wealthy families. her mother was a french socialite and her father was the golden boy of a hearst-like (founders/owners of a distinguished publishing conglomerate) family from connecticut. some of his family members claimed to be descendants of one of oscar wilde’s cousins (a rumor that has yet to be confirmed) and he believed he had it in him to become a literary great himself. he seemingly succeeded, having published multiple best sellers popular with young pseudo-intellectuals. 

giorgia was never sure if her mother had wanted a daughter or a life-size doll. from a very young age she was primed to fit into high society and paraded around her parent’s lavish parties. most of her time was spent with nannies and violin tutors, studying her father’s poetic heroes, and dancing ballet. she was taught how to socialize with society’s elite, but she never felt comfortable doing so. she felt safer hiding behind her mother or sitting beneath the stairs with her nose in a book.

while her mother wanted her child to be pretty and proper, her father wanted someone to continue his family’s legacy. she learned to read when she was four, and by the time she was five, gio was forced to write in a diary every. single. day. (over the last fifteen years she’s filled up dozens of notebooks that live on a bookshelf in her childhood bedroom). she didn’t particularly like her father and she didn’t want to want what he wanted for her. (did that sentence make sense? i hope so). but she did like to write and she was damn good at it. her poetry was published in online journals and lit mags, her short stories won young artist awards. on the outside, she was everything her parents wanted.

but like i said before, gio struggled with the social part or being a socialite, and the life of an heiress was never something she wanted. she didn’t seem to have the right attitude - she was demure and diffident, a textbook wallflower. she was never happier than when she was reading a book or roaming a museum, always curious about the world around her. she never misbehaved or did anything wrong, but her parents wanted her to behave differently. 

their tribeca penthouse always had a certain cold air to it and the high ceilings only seemed to add to the lonely feeling that gio couldn’t escape. her relationship with her parents seemed to become more strained with each passing day. the more she learned about them the more gio realized she didn’t know them at all - the spa retreats her mother went on were really trips to psychiatric facilities and rehabs, and the endless slew of young women her father employed as assistants were all lazily hidden affairs. they never talked about it, if she tried to she was shut down or ignored entirely.

gio grew up wanting to go to nyu. she didn’t know where the dream came from (her parents wanted her to go to vassar or dartmouth) but she loved her home city and something about nyu had always called to her. she was accepted early admission to the gallatin school where she planned to major in an individualized study of creative and dramatic writing.

she loved her freshman year of college. she was finally out of her parents’ home and into a postage stamp of an apartment with an eccentric girl studying theater. she was around people from all over the world and all walks of life instead of the tiny bubble of rich snobs and private schools. she was around people she actually had things in common with. she was still shy and she still found it extremely difficult to talk to people. the easiest way for her to interact with people was to overcompensate for her shyness and be excessively friendly. when she was actually able to talk, she found she had many things to say, and once she started talking it was hard for her to stop.

her roommate was a big fan of movie marathons (in october they watched all of the scream movies, and then all of the saw movies, and then all of the children of the corn movies. that’s twenty horror movies. gio still has nightmares from them). for a few weeks in the fall she had a spy movie marathon. mission: impossible and jason bourne movies, mostly. something about them piqued gio’s interest, and she started reading spy novels, which quickly turned into her writing one of her own. she wanted the protagonist to be a woman for once, and one who’s main personality trait wasn’t tits. her novel, at dawn beneath the bridge of sighs, followed a cia operative and an italia aisi agent who are forced to work together to find the kidnapped daughter of an american diplomat along with the priceless jewelry she was wearing at the time of her capture. (do i know what the fuck im talking about? no!!) 

gio comes from a family of publishers so it was fairly easy for her to find someone who wanted to publish it, but the nepotism ended there, the success was all her own. it was lauded as an impressive debut novel and critics praised her subversion of genre tropes and inventive action sequences. but it stuck out to a select few for a different reason - the heroine used tactics uncannily similar to those used by actual spies, and she used them well. some people were curious as to how the character would handle other situations in the spy world, or really how the author would plan it.

so yeah she got a letter from gallagher, and she thought it was a joke at first. she eventually figured out it was very real (how? idk!) and her curiosity got the better of her. she decided it would be good for research, and that she could go back to nyu if she wanted to. once she arrived at gallagher, giorgia... did not know what to do. she had never been so out of her element, and she felt like she was terrible at everything. but that wasn’t really true, all the things you could study for were things she was actually learning. she became determined to actually do well, and as her first year comes to an end, gio still feels extremely unsure of herself, and unsure of where she wants to focus her studies, but she’s starting to feel like gallagher is the right place for her to be.

personality: she’s very sweet, very earnest, sometimes has a tendency to retreat into herself and get quiet, but she still combats her shyness with an outgoing attitude she learned from her mother that takes her far out of her comfort zone. basically as outgoing as an introvert can be. she tries to see the best in everyone and every situation. emphasis on tries, because she’s a total worrier and is often pulled between the desire to find a silver lining and the fear that something horrible will happen. she will give people more chances than they deserve and let them walk all over her. her self esteem can be pretty low, but one thing she is confident about is her writing (although she won’t tell you because she doesn’t want to seem boastful). art and literature in all forms are her favorite things and she could talk about it forever. she’s the kind of person who tries to learn everyone’s names and once she knows it she’ll say hi to you every time she sees you.

other stuff: she’s fluent in french and english and grew up speaking them equally. (she also knows some spanish, italian, german, and russian from her nannies, but she’s not fluent). she has a deep love for photography, usually bringing a camera with her at all times. she can play classic violin and piano, but hasn’t in a while and is probably rusty, she continued to dance until she came to gallagher and no longer had time to practice. she has a cat named pierre (named after pierre-auguste renoir). she's a vegetarian. she’s basically addicted to fruit. she listens to a lot of sad pop music. her favorite colors are blush pink and forest green. she watches a lot jean-luc godard and wes anderson movies. she’s kind of a sad girl/art ho. she gets crushes on people easily and all the time. she is very impressionable, and seems to experience heartbreak often. she just wants someone to lover her for her, you know? 

wanted connections: (im super fucking tired so im just gonna write some really basic shit but hopefully i’ll edit it tomorrow).

a best friend: it’s not easy for her to make friends but i want gio to have one person she can truly be herself around. a platonic soulmate, if you will.

friends: really just anyone who is understanding of how she’s not always comfortable talking but will also listen if she starts ranting about queer representation in 20th century poetry and plays, ya feel?

big brother/big sister: because she hated being an only child and she really needs someone looking out for her

bad influence: its not hard to be a bad influence on her but someones gotta do it!

good influence: someone who lets her baby ways rub off on them

idk what to call this but a sort of mutual respect with someone she’s had a class with?

idk what to call this either but someone she really clashes with, they just don’t understand each other

people she knew in nyc: she was there for the first 19 years of her life so if your character was there in early 2019 or any time before that, they could’ve run into each other

someone from a similar background who she can just be like... felt with?

hookups/flings: she loves love but love does not love her

an ex: could be good or bad terms idk 

crushes, mutual or unrequited

give me literally anything, the more angst the better!!

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

As previously warned, I have a huge number of questions for the fanfic author ask thing. So, here we go: 4, 5, 6, 12, 13, 14, 15, 17, 20, 21, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 31, 33, 36, 37 and then, if that wasn’t already enough, and there is anything you want to answer that I haven’t already asked, then pick one of your choosing to answer as well! 💕

Holy crap you weren’t kidding! lol this is gonna be so much fun!

4: What made you start writing fanfiction?

My 3rd grade teacher, Mr. Gula, gave me a challenge to write out my own ending to my favorite movie or TV show. As I was never really one to back down from a challenge, I went home and wrote out my own story about the first Transformers movie and another one about what I would do if I had been in HIgh School Musical. Yeah... needless to say, I was the Hermione of my grade.

5: Favorite pairing?

I know I don’t write for them, but my top is probably either Dee Dee and Frankie from the Beach Blanket Bingo, Bikini Beach, and Muscle Beach type movies or Seaweed and Penn from Hairspray. Something about those types of romance are sort of sweet to me. Guess I’m just an old soul. I also adore Cory and Topanga form Boy Meets World, but I’m mostly here for the older romances.

6: Least favorite pairing?

I’ll probably get flack for all of my answer, but I’m a little bit opinionated about this lol. The way Ginny and Harry’s relationship in the films was, was just confusing and so not what I had expected from them. The books gave them so much more than the movies ever did. The books were way better. Another case I don’t like was Bella and Edward/Renesmee and Jacob from Twilight. I think the other relationships in Twilight were better (Jasper and Alice are so sweet!) and Stephanie Meyer just kinda tossed Bella and Edward and Renesmee and Jacob together in the hope it would work and it just didn’t.

12: What’s the weirdest fic you’ve ever written?

I can’t believe I’m admitting to this.... I used to write full stories about One Direction. I had a full Niall x OC story I posted on a 1D Imagines group on Facebook that got almost 2,000 likes. It was silly, but, my word, it was almost as long as Broken Record. It spanned over the month of October 2014 and I can’t believe it ot the attention it did. It wasn’t all that good, but I guess it was good enough for people to like it, so that’s alright by me lol

13: Weirdest fic you’ve ever read?

I don’t believe it’s on fanfiction anymore, but I remember the basic info on it. It was Make a Wish by FireBladePrime. It was pretty much a girl made a wish on a shooting star and it made her favorite toys come to life as full size humans. I believe she ended up falling in love with one, but I’m pretty sure it just ended up being something that she came up with in her head when she was in a coma due to a car accident. Definitely a weird one, but it was pretty well written as far as memory serves.

14: Do the people in your life know you write fic? How do they feel about it?

Well, quite a bit of my family knows, actually. It started with just my parents, but my dad was always wanting to show off whatever his baby princess did (I was his only biological child, my older siblings were from my mom’s ex-husband). Dad shared with his siblings, mom shared with her siblings and my grandfather. My nieces and nephews know as well, but I believe that’s it. As far as I know, they are all very supportive and have no problem with it. My neice, Lorali, and nephews, Erek and Drake, have read all of my Teen Beach fics and quote things from them daily just to see if I’ll react, but they mostly just like reading them or having me read to them. They’re very loving and supportive of my writing.

15: Favorite fandom to write for?

I don’t know if I could pick one! I love Teen Beach so much, but I also have a certain affinity for writing small oneshots or “x Reader” style stories for Avengers and Harry Potter which can be found here and here. I do share the Harry Potter page with my sister, but she handles reblogging things to our page. Anyway, those would probably be my top fandoms!

17: What is the harshest criticism you’ve ever gotten on a fic?

Holy crap. Okay, I may or may not have repressed this for a long time, but I have more than one that I can’t decide between. The other one was from a girl in my class who stole my writing notebook and read my writing. Fuck you, Ashley She gave it back to me later that day with marker scribbles all over my writing. She said that I was horrible. The next day, I stole the makeup bag she had brought from her mother’s bathroom and buried it on the playground.

I was a good child that believed in getting even. Nobody found out about that btw.

Anyway, the first real criticism I had on a fic was someone who said, “You have no talent and you shouldn’t be writing. It all sucks and you’ll never go anywhere as an author.” I had actually written this down and, when I felt it no longer mattered to me, I burned it. It took me a couple of years to come to the realization that their opinion didn’t matter to me.

 20: What’s your biggest struggle when it comes to writing fic?

Having time to sit down and write, probably. I usually have great ideas, but, in order to write them out and have them come out alright, I would need to sit down and feel it all come together while I write. I need time that I just don’t have most of the time.

21: Your biggest strength?

When I sit down to write, it all just flies out of me. Once i start, I don’t stop until my idea is all out into either m notebook or my computer. I can have a simple idea that somehow spirals into an eight page chunk that I never thought was possible. I like to think of that as my biggest writing strength.

24: What’s your process?

Write out the “backbone plot” (The stuff that has to happen, no matter what)

Decide on characters. Figure out appearance, personality and basic traits. (Sorta like a sim, I guess)

Bounce ideas with whoever will listen/listen to music (Gain ideas and write them in a small notebook)

Wait for inspiration and time to line up accordingly.

Write as much as I can.

Go back into that later on and edit what needs to be there and delete what isn’t necessary.

Publish!

I hope that’s what this means, at least.

25: Of all the fics you’ve written, which is your favorite?

Most definitely Broken Record and Creating a Rift. It was one of my first published stories and I just adore them.

26: Which of your fics is your least favorite?

I don’t even know how to find it anymore, but it was called Life’s a Rollercoaster. It was a Transformers fic that I had written when I was 11. Never finished it bc I lost the login stuff and it, now that I remember it, sucked hard.

27: What’s your most popular fic? Do you think the popularity is warranted, or is there another fic that you think deserves it more?

Any of them really! I love that Broken Record has had almost 10,000 reads, but I don’t believe it. As I go back over it, I wonder how on earth it gained popularity in the first place, but I couldn’t be happier that it did!

29: Which of your fics was the hardest to write?

My book. Probably the Christmas one, tbh. I only feel the pull to write it around the holidays and that kinda sucks lol

30: Favorite fic writers?

You better know you’re number one, girlie! For those who don’t know, Eleanor here is one of my closest internet friends and she’s practically family to me at this point!

As for other authors, I love Ulurnaga’s Primary Mechanisms story (Transformers). I know she hasn’t updated it since 2014, but it was so good that she could’ve left it at multiple parts and it would’ve been fine. I think it has abot 118 chapters to it. I have a few favorites from AutobotGuy710 who does a lot of Transformers stories basing around adoption (helps for my references and also a better understanding of what goes on a bit in adoptions/foster care). On Tumblr, I have a few faves, but not a ton. I like imagine-and-marvel and potterlyimagines fics a lot, but that’s about it at the moment as I haven’t sat down to read fics in a little while.

31: Do you write just for fun, or would you ever consider pursuing writing?

A bit of both, actually. I mostly enjoy writing my fics as a bit of an escape from reality. I enjoy being able to place myself in a world that doesn’t exist and sort of play around a bit. However, I do actually write as a job. I was working for my county newspaper for a while and that spiraled into me writing my first book, Feather Picked. I am currently writing one of the sequels to Feather Picked which takes the focus from my original main character, Melody, and moves it to her best friend, Roxy. I am planning on publishing a total of at least 5 books, the first four being the chronological 4 that take place over the course of a full year, each taking one season. The last one will be a look into the future, hopefully.

My first book can be found here!

33: Fanfiction pet peeves?

Goodness gracious. As someone who loves English classes, when people don’t place paragraphs correctly or spell simple words correctly, it reeeeeeally grinds my nerves. I will still sit through a story if it’s a well plotted story, but, come on people, at least do proper paragraphing!!!

Also, when people spell “definitely” as “defiantly”...... uuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhh

36: Which charachter(s) would you never write for?

For this one, I don’t really have much to say.

Probably characters from shows like soap operas or shows that never seem to end. If I can’t grasp the character’s backstory or personality after watching it because it never stops changing whenever it benefits the story or what the writers have planned, I refuse to write for them. 

Mary Sue types like Bella Swan who are merely the damsel in distress  and are only there to play out the author’s wish to be put in some type of scenario where everyone fawns over them constantly (can be applied to male characters as well).

37: Which character is your favorite to write for?

Out of already made characters: Butchy, Lela, Cheech, Evie, Ben, Harry Hook, Bucky Barnes, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood.

Out of my OCs: Mick, Malina, Roxy Madden, Candi DiMaggio

Since you said I could pick one if I wanted, I’m going to pick #40.

40: Imagine yourself 10 years in the future; do you think you’ll still be writing fic?

I think I will be, yes. I don’t think my ideas for movies and books will ever stop. Especially knowing what I have planned after Creating A Rift is done. But... that’s a story for another time, lol

[loplainlointhemorning]

DOING THE HARD WORK OF MAKING EVERYONE IN DORIAN GRAY LOOK LIKE A DICK EXCEPTING, WITH LIMITS, DORIAN GRAY

okay so I’ve read The Picture Of Dorian Gray three times and I plan to again after I finish a few more novels, so I consider myself knowledgeable enough both about the book AND about the fandom surrounding it to make this post. This has been kicking around in my head for YEARS, especially after getting into Velvet Goldmine and noting how that fandom treats Brian Slade, who’s basically a modern interpretation of the same character. I know a lot of people are jonesing for me to rag on Basil Hallward and I plan to, so fair warning to those of you who i know are obsessed with him.

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To start, a lot of people see Lord Henry as the only discernible “Villain” in the book(though the book really has no villain) and Basil as the put upon good guy. This description is somewhat fair. Lord Henry contributes a lot of Dorian’s toxic ideas and enables a LOT of his most self centered behavior, not to mention he gives him the book that inspires his worst deeds. He’s the person who makes it clear to him that youth, self gratification, and most importantly, beauty are all that matter in life. Basil, on the other hand, does his best to “counter” these ideas, though I personally would say his idea of countering amounts to nothing but passive aggressive, low energy disdain. Dorian is too wrapped up in Lord Henry to listen to reason, and eventually murders Basil in cold blood, allowing him to achieve a sort of tragic book character aura that makes him sympathetic.

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To put it simply, the general attitude towards these character dynamics is that Lord Henry is the Bad, Basil is the Good, and Dorian could’ve been good if Lord Henry would’ve let him be. I find this interpretation very surface level despite the relatability of Basil Hallward’s homosexual yearning and romantic struggles.

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But before we dissect Basil, let’s dissect his counterpart. Lord Henry, to start, is immediatley established as a vain and flippant dandy(which is true) because of his belief that beauty is the most valuable trait a person can possess. This is the first lesson that he gives Dorian: that his beauty is his power, that his youth is fleeting, and that life will be worthless once he’s lost the ability to appeal physically to others. However, while he is the first to say it frankly enough for Dorian to consciously understand it, he is NOT the first to communicate that to him. He is just one in a long line of many, as is Basil himself.

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Funnily enough, I would argue that of all the adult figures in Dorian’s life, Lord Henry is the MOST supportive of Dorian’s actual person, and I think it’s entirely natural that he became as attached to him as he did and may have less to do with Henry’s good looks and manipulation than we think. Nobody in his immediate circle of friends or family allows him to explore himself or form an opinion about the world that differs from their own- Except for Henry. It’s merely Dorian’s misfortune that the first person he meets who allows him to be a human being is a conceited asshole, but it follows the theme of Dorian’s life, which is that he is the avatar for older and more cowardly men. And in Lord Henry’s eyes, Dorian’s poetential is limitless. He’s happy to give him ideas and let him run wild, but can’t accept the responsibility of teaching him kindness or compassion or self-preservation, because that would make the spectacle less interesting. Lord Henry is using a 19-to-20 year old to live out his fantasy of what he wishes he could do- But he’s not really different from Basil in that respect.

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And now it is time.

Basil Hallward reminds me a lot of myself, so I feel like I understand his motivations. He’s a shy, earnest, secretive artist who doesn’t care much for anything besides doing his work and yearning while looking out over his garden. He’s upset by people like Lord Henry, who are the embodiment of the poet who lives what he cannot write, because he is the opposite: He creates, and therefore doesn’t have to live out, his fantasy worlds. Basil is repressed and mild mannered while Henry, to his intense jealousy, is more attractive, vivacious, and conversationally interesting- Which is most likely why he didn’t want to share him with Dorian, instead of the reason he gave, which was that Dorian’s pure personality would be tarnished. It’s quite obvious Basil has a crush. But I don’t believe he ever loved, or even truly cared for, Dorian himself.

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Allow me to explain: I have a whole blog of random pictures, mainly of other people, that I keep because I find those pictures striking in some sense. I don’t have an aesthetic theme, really: It’s just people who make me feel, or think, or see something a certain way. I have a pregnant wax figurine in there and old pictures of Marilyn Monroe- And I find both creatively interesting because of how they appear to me. What I’m getting at is I think Dorian Gray is to Basil what an art blog is to the average tumblr user. As David Bowie once said, there’s a difference between being in love and going on to love someone; And there is a difference between being fascinated with your muse and actually caring about the person beyond the projection.

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I think it’s extremely telling that before painting his portrait, Basil had an entire notebook dedicated to portraying Dorian as various mythical figures and heroes. I think it’s even more telling that when Basil DOES paint his portrait, he’s ashamed of it because it is a portrait of HIS soul, an admittance of his worship and idolatry. Dorian REPRESENTS something to Basil, and it’s fun to speculate on what: I believe he is the poster boy for all of Basil’s sexual and romantic fantasies, which he obviously finds shameful, woven together with the romantic escapism found in mythology. But it’s obvious from the start that Dorian is Not the virtuous young man that he wants him to be, and that those virtues are simply what Hallward believes Dorian should be like, as opposed to what he actually is.

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This is depressing, but what’s worse is that Dorian is aware of it, which is what actually inspired me to write this post. When he realizes his youth is fleeting, he accuses Basil of the truth, in a heartbreaking scene featuring this quote,

“Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. ‘I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.’ The painter stared in amazement. ‘Yes,’ He continued, I am less to you than your ivory Hermès or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when someone loses one’s good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself.’

Hallward turned pale, and caught his hand. ‘Dorian! Dorian!’ he cried, ‘don’t talk like that. I never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have such another. You are not jealous of material things, are you- you who are finer than all of them!”

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Lord Henry and Basil are nowhere near on the same moral level, but what’s tragic is that they, and everyone else, treat Dorian the same way- As their vicarious vessel. It’s just that Basil’s idea of what Dorian should be is A) Literal sainthood(as evidenced by the above quote), and B) Impossible to live up to, so therefore he seems to be the nicer guy. But it’s cruel to value anyone for what you can get from them, even if that thing is great art.

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In my opinion, the adult figures in Dorian’s life couldn’t give less of a shit about his true nature. His grandfather hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. Lord Henry is interested in seeing how far Dorian would go to do the things he can’t do because of his own cowardice. Basil expects him to be a storybook character, as do most people who came into contact with him. He was right to believe that his looks were the only thing anybody wanted from him because it’s the truth.

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To close, my personal interpretation of Dorian Gray is this: Dorian Gray was a neglected, naive child who became the fancy of two older men, both of whom were only concerned with using him as a fantasy and therefore both corrupted him for their own personal gain. This in no way excuses his actions, but I think it better explains them- And I think it condemns the people who ought to be condemned. Lord Henry was the person who played on his lack of self-worth to manipulate him, but Basil was the person who exacerbated that lack of self-worth in the first place. Basil wasn’t a good mentor(and DID NOT deserve to be his boyfriend). Henry wasn’t a good mentor. There was no good mentor- There was only Dorian, and the simple fact that people weren’t going to love him if he stopped being pretty. The person he became afterwards was someone of his own making- But the initially shy, praise-hungry, warped young boy who felt the need to become that person was both Basil and Henry’s creation.

[theraptorreviews]

A Review of Netflix’s Death Note

Netflix’s Death Note adaptation is bad. The film has been panned by critics, diehard fans of the show, and even casual Netflix browsers. Death Note (2017), to be blunt, has absolutely nothing to offer that is new or interesting. It is a film embarrassed of its source material, while simultaneously relying on it as a crutch for when it fails to create anything original. It’s worst crime isn’t that it just fails to be a Death Note adaptation, but that it fails to stand on its own.

The plot of this movie is extremely simple. Light Turner, played poorly by Nat Wolff, one day stumbles across the Death Note, a notebook that kills whoever has their name written in it. Together with his forced romantic lead, Mia Sutton, played by Margaret Qualley, and the death god that accompanies the Death Note, Ryuk, played by Willem Dafoe, Light decides that he will use the Death Note to rid the world of crime, all while avoiding the detective extraordinaire, L, played by Lakeith Stanfield, who will stop at nothing to put an end to Light’s killing spree.

Let’s start with the good:

1. Willem Dafoe as Ryuk

Willem Dafoe was a perfect casting choice for the role of a uncaring cold monster who loves death and destruction. We know this because he was the Green Goblin in Sam Raimi’s first Spider-Man film. And while he’s entertaining in this film, you can’t help but feel as though he’s just going through the motions of being the Green Goblin once again. I’m not sure I would say that he’s just phoning it in, but it’s very clear that he was chosen because of his role as the Green Goblin. He’s easily one of the “best” parts of the movie, but we’ll be touching more on him later.

2. Lakeith Stanfield as L

He puts in effort into playing the character, one that’s easy to see especially compared to the horrendous performances put forth by the majority of the rest of the cast. He is actively trying to nail the character that he was hired on to play, even attempting to get the anime/manga character’s mannerisms down. He is easily the most competent person in this movie, but that’s not a huge compliment considering the rest of the film.

That’s it. That’s all the positives that are worth mentioning.

Now onto the negatives:

1. Light Turner

Casting a person of asian descent as Light would have in no way saved this movie. While it would have definitely limited the amount of controversy that the film acquired as early as the first trailer, the character of Light is so fundamentally broken and unlikable, that I doubt that even someone as charismatic and likable as George Takei would be able to make him enjoyable. It’d be more entertaining, that’s for sure, but it wouldn’t be good.

Light is a walking contradiction played by Nat Wolff as every 90s punk-stereotype loner kid. The fact that Light never once says “welcome to my twisted mind” is astounding to me, as it would legitimately fit his “character” here. He is very much so like every 80s comic that attempted to leap off of the success of Watchmen or The Dark Knight Returns comics: the attempt to appear deep is more important than actually being deep. We are simultaneously supposed to root for Light as the good guy while he takes pleasure in killing, develops an egotistical god complex, and takes tips from anonymous strangers on the internet on who to kill. But that fails because he is not a deep, complex character. He is simply a loner murderer that can easily be explained in that sentence alone, the fact that they are presenting him as this deep, psychologically challenging character is, frankly, insulting to the audience. You can’t have him be simple enough for every person to figure out but complex enough to need to peel back layers, you can’t have it both ways.

Maybe we’d be able to buy that perception of depth, if he weren’t such a unintelligent character that simply cannot plan ahead for the life of him. He is simultaneously a genius, but is completely unable to tell that his murder-loving girlfriend, Mia, is psychopathic, unhinged, and willing to do anything to save herself. He is simultaneously a mastermind, and yet he walks around with the Death Note out in plain sight and literally tells Mia everything about it without the slightest bit of provocation. Light is a dumbass, and yet we’re supposed to believe that he is a mastermind capable of knowing multiple languages and outsmarting everyone aside from L.

2. Mia Sutton

Mia Sutton has two personality traits in this movie. Either she is Light’s loving, obsessive girlfriend who revolves her entire life around him, or she is a psychopathic murderer who thinks that she can have moral superiority while in the middle of killing innocent people.

The big plot twist of this movie is that she kills several FBI agents who are investigating Light, and it’s meant to be a massive reveal. The only issue is that it isn’t a reveal, it can be seen coming a mile away. She even tries to get Light to kill his own detective father just so that he can be assured that no one will come after him. She is psychopathic from the very beginning, but it’s meant to be taken as a massive shock when Light figures it out.

Couple all this with the fact that Margaret Qualley just doesn’t act when playing her, and you have an absolutely boring and pointless character who’s only purpose is to be romantically involved with Light. It would be sexist if it weren’t for the fact that it might just be purely incompetent writing. It might just be too stupid to be able to accept fault.

3. Tone

Death Note (2017) doesn’t know what it wants to be. It’s an adaptation of an anime/manga series steeped in philosophical undertones directed by a man who’s known more recently for cheap, jumpscare laden horror films like the recent “Blair Witch” sequel reboot.

The opening scene displays this perfectly as we cut to an overcast and dreary day in Seattle, paired together with an unfitting 80s synth pop tune. From the opening scene, you should be able to grasp at least some form of tone for the rest of the film, but Death Note (2017) can’t understand how to maintain any tone they put forth.

The opening suggests a character drama from the way that we focus on the two leads and how they interact with the world around them. We pan across the overcast Seattle day towards a local high school, where we see Light Turner finishing homework for other students for money, he looks up and sees Mia, a disinterested cheerleader who smokes on school property. All of a sudden, the Death Note falls from the sky right next to Light.

But then not even twenty minutes later, it turns into a horror film with the introduction of Ryuk. Light is in detention having been caught by a teacher. The lights cut out and something breaks in the darkness of the room. Slowly Light traverses the empty room, and comes across the silhouette of something unearthly and demonic. He stares, frozen in terror, when all of a sudden the beast looks dead at Light with glowing red eyes. It’s transformed into a horror movie with no provocation, completely contradicting the serious tone previously established. With that tone being immediately broken with one of the most unmanly screams ever put to film. Nat Wolff’s scream is the equivalent of the shitty joke where someone runs over to a character saying “we heard a girl screaming” only to reveal that it was a male character who screamed. If I were Nat Wolff, I would be legitimately pissed that Adam Wingard and the editors chose to put this take in the movie.

And then we get to the first kill. Light, still in detention, looks out the window and sees the stereotypical bully and lacky who picks on him attacking another student. Remember that this kid, although he is an asshole, is still a kid whose worst crime is punching another kid, but we’ll get back to that later. With Ryuk egging him on, Light decides to take revenge on his bully and writes his name in the Death Note, with the instructions that he will be killed by decapitation. A truck with a ladder is run off the road, and the ladder flies off the top of the truck, and completely severs the bully’s head in a puddle of blood and guts and grey matter and gore. In the span of thirty minutes, this film has gone through presenting itself as a serious character drama, a dark monster horror film, and a gorey shocking film like a bad slasher flick. And it doesn’t get better from there.

Adam Wingard cannot manage to maintain a tone, which is completely baffling to me considering that this appears to be the only movie he has directed that I know of where he cannot manage that. Over the course of the film the tone can be anywhere from the aforementioned serious dramatic story, to a cheesy romance story with as much chemistry as a Twilight book, to a serious in nature crime procedural, to a dark ending where a main character dies to an upbeat 80s synth song about love. And while some filmmakers can easily shift between tones, Adam Wingard shows that he cannot as you feel every single tonal shift that this film has with the force of a semi-truck colliding into a smart car.

4. Pacing & Character Development

Because this is an “adaptation” of the anime/manga Adam Wingard chose to fit as much as he could of the 25 episode run of the manga into an 1hr 45m movie and, naturally, it runs into the same problem that movies like “The Last Airbender” and “Dragon Ball Evolutions” run into. You cannot condense every single ounce of character development that the original source has into something so small. And while the original Death Note anime/manga isn’t as long as Dragon Ball’s 300+ episode run, it’s still a lot to try and condense into such a short amount of time, one might even say it’s impossible to successfully condense.

As such, Adam Wingard and the screenwriters compensated for the condensation of the original source material by completely scrapping all character development of every character aside from Light, and just glancing over Light’s transition into a murder obsessed psychopath in the middle of a 20+ minute montage that covers:

The beginning of Light and Mia’s relationship

Light’s transition into a serial murderer

The majority of the Death Note kills in the entire movie

The impact Light has on the world with his murder spree

The start of the FBI’s investigation into the murders

All of that would seem like it would be fairly important to cover in the actual movie, and you would be right for thinking that. Why they chose to only give character development through a montage that has no concrete end date is beyond me. Maybe that montage lasted one month in the time of the movie, maybe it lasted up until the beginning of Mia and Light’s senior year. I don’t know, because they never say.

By the time you reenter the world of the movie post-montage, it’s a completely different one. Character relationships have changed, Light has killed hundreds if not thousands of terrorists, dictators, and other criminals and has formed a god complex where he has deemed himself a dispenser of justice onto sinners, and violent crime has begun to decrease worldwide because of Light’s actions. All of that isn’t shown over the course of the movie, but in the quick montage that also focuses more on how Light and Mia are a couple. This single montage absolutely kills the pacing of the movie.

5. The Script & Deus Ex Machinas

I’ll be frank in saying that Death Note (2017) feels incoherent script wise. It’s like the first two credited writers had brilliant ideas and wanted to possibly create an American Death Note spin-off series to the original anime/manga, with the only connection being the titular book and possibly Ryuk. But then after they pitched the idea to Netflix and got it approved, it’s as if Adam Wingard and another screenwriter got absolutely terrified that nobody would look at a Death Note adaptation without Light and L and so they quickly changed everything and added in the two characters.

It feels this way, because the script feels rushed and unnatural. I would easily say that the script is over 50% just pure exposition. Exposition from Ryuk on how the Death Note works, exposition from Light on how his dad, the cop, acts read as though it were a character description taken directly from the script, exposition from L about how he’s solving the case, exposition from characters on who’s what, why, and how, and so on and so forth. It’s bad writing, not just for a Death Note adaptation, but in general.

This is especially apparent in the numerous Deus Ex Machina’s that the script willingly stumbles into. One of the most apparent to me, aside from the entirety of the ending, is when L discovers that Light is operating in Seattle. He knows this because Light’s first known victim is a guy from Seattle who was in an armed stand-off with the police, which Light watches via a live news feed over the internet. According to L, the live news feed was only broadcast to the Seattle, but Light found the feed on the internet. You know, the internet. Where I can find live video footage from pretty much every country in the world. This is an asspull at best and lazy at worst. Had this been before the prevalence of the internet as a way to see live footage, like the original Death Note, this would make sense. But it’s not. You can argue that because of proximity Light’s internet search would bring him the closest result first, but L has no way of knowing that. Logically he should know that Light could’ve scrolled through pages of live crime newsfeeds before finding one to test the Death Note out on. This is circumstantial evidence at best yet the movie treats L as if he’s a Einstein level genius for figuring it out.

And if it’s not Deus Ex Machina’s it’s just butchering characters to make the plot work. As stated previously, Light openly walks around the school with the Death Note and, despite not yet knowing Mia personally and knowing that the Death Note is actually able to kill people, just reveals everything to Mia without any real provocation. She legitimately just walks up to him, asks what the Death Note is because she sees it, and he tells her. But at the same time he’s supposed to be a mega genius who can do everyone else’s homework for them for some spare cash and a loner who has absolutely no friends nor any interest in making friends. The screenwriters have the characters bend to fit the plot rather than the plot working around the characters.

6. Who Is This Made For?

When visual media adaptations come out, I always ask one question: why should I watch this over the original? And this point still stands here. The film fails to live up to the potential set in place by the original manga/anime, but fails to stand on its own as its own thing. You have absolutely no reason to watch this over the original anime/manga, especially when considering quality.

Frankly, this film doesn’t seem to have a target audience and instead tries to give something for everyone. Casual horror fans were meant to enjoy the creepier, horror movie moments. Action and gore fans were to enjoy some of the more creative deaths. And Death Note fans were to enjoy the fact that it’s based on an intellectual property that they enjoy. But in trying to please everyone, you get this vapid, bland film that appeals to almost no-one.

Every American film adaptation of anime run into these same pitfalls headfirst. “Dragon Ball Evolutions”, “The Last Airbender”, “Ghost in the Shell”, and now Death Note (2017). All of these films share the fact that they don’t know how to interpret their source material, yet they rely too heavily on it. And my point still stands. Why should I watch the abysmal “Dragon Ball Evolutions” when I could easily watch the cultural icons that are Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z? Why should I watch one of M. Night Shyamalan's worst film when I can just watch one of my favorite cartoon of all time, Avatar: The Last Airbender? Why would I watch the derivative “Ghost in the Shell” film when I could see the animated feature that inspired the Wachowski sisters to create “The Matrix,” one of the most influential action films of all time?

Right now, Netflix is one of the only streaming service that has the original Death Note anime. Even Crunchyroll, a streaming site for anime specifically, doesn’t have it. And this makes the film even more pointless. Why would anyone want to watch the critically panned film when they could just scroll the screen a bit and have the cultural icon that is the original ready to go in seconds? When you search “Death Note” on Netflix, you are inevitably going to get the anime and the movie right next to each other.

Don’t watch Death Note (2017).

If you enjoyed this, please consider following this blog to read this and other reviews that I have written and will be writing. Or consider donating to my monthy patreon, any amount helps.

Thank you all and have a good day.

[cannonkurosawa-blog]

Here’s the 45 Questions

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Her adopted older sister Yelena, who [trains noises], is a year older than her. Kazuko considers Yelena to be her role model, even though she surpassed her in under a year of working for the Kurosawas. She also has a younger half-brother named Jurou who she’s funding on his way through art school. They used to be really close, but since they never see each other, they’ve grown distant. Kazuko still thinks of him as her responsibility though and considers herself closer to being his mom than their real mom. She’s closer to Yelena.

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

Oh boy. Not good. The fact her real mom (Hana Kagami) is dating her fake mom (Darya Kurosawa) on and off makes her SUPER uncomfortable. Kazuko grew up as a latchkey kid, and from the time she was old enough to make food, it was her job to take care of the family. Growing up, she did everything she could to pretend that this was normal and that it didn’t bother her, but she developped into a very jaded woman. Her relationship with her fake mom is very businesslike. Darya scares Kazuko more than anyone, but she respects her. So, for short, she has mother issues.

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Kazuko has no clue who her father is, nor does anyone else. Kanon’s father also has no clue who Kazuko is half the time, since he can’t tell the difference between her and Kanon, or any other black haired girl their age.

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Yep. And no, not even Kanon. Some things you never speak about.

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

A small notebook, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a cellphone, a baggy of cat treats, and a lot of scrap paper she just shoved in there when she saw it on the ground. No writing tools though, she always loses them.

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Cuddling with Kanon has been the dream that’s kept her going since she got to Praetis. Just, long lazy days where they lay about and nap. She dreams quite frequently about food, especially going outside and having a nice picnic. In her normal dream, mazes are a common theme, and often times dancing is involved. Movement is more prominent than language in all of Kazuko’s dreams.

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Laying on the ground, being unable to move as everyone rushes around her is probably the worst one. In many of her nightmares, she never moves once and is just forced to watch whatever is going to happen. It’s not even always bad things. It can be good things, but she’d overcome by a fear that something will happen if she doesn’t get moving. Though they aren’t nightmares until after she wakes up, she frequently has dreams where she’s just Kanon.

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

Yes. Her first target was a failing report card that she and Kanon taped to the wall. They got in huge trouble for that.

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

Yes and no. She doesn’t want for money, but also owns none herself. Everything is handled for her, but she’s in a rather risky situation. If she ever needs something, her employers could simply refuse to give it to her and she can do nothing about it.

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Kazuko actually really favours revealing outfits that make Kanon uncomfortable so they compromise (aka, they wear what Kanon wants because Kazuko would wear jantie and tank top equivalents everyday if she could).

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

After [train noises].

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

Just before calling Sosuke so she could kill him. It was not a good calm. She felt completely disconnected from the world and was completely unable to understand why this might be a bad idea.

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

Nope. She’s pretty used to it.

Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Faces. Names confuse her. There are three people who are named basically the same thing here.

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

Extremely! Kazuko is super scared of getting in debt.  If you give her money, she never spends it for fear of being unable to control herself and getting into debt. Better to own nothing than to owe something.

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Happiness, success is meaningless to her.

What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

A plush cat that one of her neighbours gave her as a cat.

Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

Wisdom.

What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Kazuko is completely convinced her life is meaningless, and as such, she’s super reckless. This makes nobody happy, especially Kanon. It hasn’t ruined any relationships yet, but she knows eventually people will get tired of her being such a downer.

In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Like, in every way. Kazuko doesn’t think of herself as much a person, so she sews together a persona for herself based on the traits of other people. It’s basically the “making people like me” personality quilt. The more she sees of other people, the more she hates herself. Watching people and their fulfillment only makes her feel more hollow.

If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

Kazuko knows things just happen something. Doesn’t stop her from endlessly wondering how she could have stopped it. She’s aware, even if you do everything right, you can still fail, so every mistake is that much worse.

What does your character like in other people?

A little bit of everything, really. Kazuko admires dedication to just about anything. Be it a talent or a person, she just loves it. If you value friendship, Kazuko is almost always on your side. She also really likes people with talents similar to her’s (earning even people she claims to dislike a lot of respect). She’s drawn to chaotic neutral people. Stirring up some trouble is always fun, but nothing too evil. If you’re protective of your friends and family, she is very likely to like you.

What does your character dislike in other people?

She hates flighty people who can’t commit to anything. Anyone who values themselves over their friends sucks. If you have ever insulted an animal, she hates you. Also, if you waste money, she gets irritated with you. Repressing your emotions and not emoting regularly makes her mega uncomfortable.

How quick is your character to trust someone else?

It can happen slow, or it can happen fast. Which ever way, she trusts far too much and far too easily.

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

She’s paranoid, but if she trusts you, she will never ever suspect you, right down to the very last minute. Even if she catches you with the murder weapon, she’ll just deny it. Kazuko is weirdly trusting for someone so paranoid.

How does your character behave around children?

Surprisingly, she’s got a lot of maternal instinct. She tends to spoil kids though, as she can’t resist pretty much any demand they make of her, as long as it’s not risky. She draws the line at risk. Kazuko is quite protective after all.

How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

She basically throws a fit. Kazuko s pretty good at faking confrontation as Kanon, but real confrontation causes her to kind of lose her cool. A lot. Like, she’s trying to funnel a fire hose worth of emotion through a keyhole. The Kanon disguise is not nearly expressive enough to get her point across.

How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

Pretty slow. Kazuko is not a very violent person, however, when she is violent, she goes overboard. [gestures to case 7]

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

As a child, she dreamed of growing up, walking out of her house one day and just disappearing. A life with no obligations or true identity seemed like a dream to her then. I guess you could say she’s living the dream. :3

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Russian food! Also, pretty much any kind of gambling or wasteful spending. Also people who would sacrifice their friends to protect themselves. Also bugs and plastic surgery. Top of the list is loan sharks, though.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

KKCD, Kanon-Kazuko Cuddle Days. After a long day or a long separation, they just spend a day lounging around and listening to music. Kazuko generally ends up laying in Kanon’s lap while she brushes her hair for her. They spend the day catching each other up on their lives and syncing up. In that moment, there’s very little divide between the two of them. It’s like they can both just disappearing. They normally end up so emotionally drained by this, though, that they skip out on work or school the next day and sleep in. This is when Kazuko is at her happiest.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

For days, and even weeks at a time, Kazuko forgets about herself. She ends up thinking she’s Kanon for a while. It hurts the worst that nobody notices that she’s forgotten, that she wasn’t acting strangely. It makes her sad how happy she was.

In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

Honestly, if you insult her, she’ll probably help you find new things to insult.

Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

Kazuko is nothing if not stubborn. She’s likely try the same things three or four times before trying something different. She’s not very good at doing things if she’s not following someone’s example, so changing up can be very difficult for her.

How does your character behave around people they like?

She turns up the sweetness like a hundred fold. She’s also very cuddly, especially with friends. A good sign she likes you is that she starts to pick up your mannerism. Basically, if you ask something of her, she will always accept. She has no self-control.

How does your character behave around people they dislike?

She’s cold and distant. Somethings she’ll play cruel pranks on them and leave gross things outside their door.

Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Neither, honestly. It I had to pick on, I’d say status. She doesn’t want to have to leave Kanon’s side.

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

[looks to Sosuke] I’d say remove the threat.

Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

This happens to her a lot. She’s most likely to apologize to the animal. Surely they don’t bite without a reason.

How does your character treat people in service jobs?

Kanon treats them horribly, meaning that Kazuko has to be super nice when she’s not pretending to be Kanon to make up for how much of a jerk she is the rest of the time.

Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Everything in life must be earned.

Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Yes

Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

[looks to real Kanon] Yep

How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

It’s hard, but once it starts, it never stops. Kazuko can say anything without meaning, but she wouldn’t do it unless she had to.

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Alright, flat out. Kazuko believes in ghosts. She thinks if enough people knew and loved you in life, you’ll be a ghost until everyone who knew you is dead as well. As such, she’s also afraid of ghosts and really doesn’t want to piss them off. As for fear she is terrified of disappearing, but not of dying.

[the-meandering-manuscript]

How to Write Stronger Characters

Hello Everyone!

I realize that I don't have much about character development on this blog, mostly because I love talking about plot and worldbuilding so much more. But don't get me wrong, characters are the most important part of your story because, as readers, we need someone to root for, and that person is your protagonist. Every other element of your story could be fantastic- you've got a killer plot, a perfectly-developed world, and believable dialogue- but if your characters fall flat, your readers aren't going to take any interest in what you've written. I'm here today to help you avoid this problem and create characters that are unforgettable.

Creating Your Character Outline

You're about to collect a lot of information about your character and let me tell you, you need someplace handy to put it. You could make a thousand separate Word docs, but I suggest downloading One Note. It serves as a virtual note and is extremely helpful. The notebooks are broken down into sections and then into pages. So for example, my notebook would be called Turncoats, then I have four sections: characters, outlining, worldbuilding, and miscellaneous. It's the perfect way to make a comprehensive story file and stay organized, especially since I have upwards of seven pages per character. The best part? You can print files directly into OneNote and write or type on them. Keep your eyes out for some free writing resources that you can use in your story file!

Getting to Know Your Character

Everyone creates characters differently. Some start off with a fully formed idea, while others just know that their character is blond. I've been both. The first thing you want to do is learn everything about your character. And I mean everything. Their favorite food, their dog's name, the address of their childhood home. Everything. Sound daunting? It is. But don't worry, I've created a free printable worksheet for you: the Ultimate Character File! Just fill in the blanks and you'll soon be an expert on who your character is. I know that I like to be able to visualize my characters clearly, so I like to find actors that are close to what I imagined in my head for my character and keep them close to my character file (that empty space on the last page is perfect for any pictures you want to include!). Next, I get to know my character even better. I interview them. This not only helps develop your character's voice (see below) but also helps you get a comprehensive story of their life. I made a Character Interview Worksheet to make this easier!

Developing Your Character's Voice

Your story is going to be living and breathing through your characters, which means that you need to be able to hear their voice. Every single character in your story should talk differently. Think about people in real life. Do they talk exactly the same? No. While some people grew up together or in the same place may use similar expressions and idioms, each person's experience is unique to only them and so is their way of speaking. My favorite way to do this is putting myself into my character's shoes and journaling. Not only does this help you develop your character's way of speaking, but it also helps you develop a stronger narrative. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up using some of your journal entries in your finished product! Here are some prompts to get you started: Character Journals.

What Makes Your Character Tick?

You need to understand how your character's brain works. As authors, we are tasked with understanding people who are completely different than us. How do I like to do this? I think that the MBTI personality test is an excellent resource. Not only does it tell you your character's personality type, but many tests often give pages of insights about each type. It is an easy and quick way to make your character more believable. My favorite version of the test is this one: https://www.16personalities.com/. You can even add the information they give you to your character outline.

Making Your Character Relatable

This is where a lot of inexperienced authors (me included!) get things wrong. You may believe that good personality traits make your character likable, and that's true to a point. You have to be careful not to go over the top. If your character begins to seem perfect, then your readers will get easily annoyed. Imagine if one of your friends was perfect in real life. They got A's on every test, was the star player of the basketball team, got the lead in the musical, and on top of all that, everyone loved them. You would hate them! Everyone has good and bad traits and as authors, we must find a balance between the two sides. I love flawed characters. In fact, I find myself relating more to characters with whom I share flaws, rather than good qualities. One of my favorite characters, Hal from Henry IV: Part 1, is extremely imperfect and that's why I love him. He's stuck between his father and the calling of his responsibilities and the pull of fun and the common people. Hal is ultimately human and makes mistakes. He's manipulative and sometimes mean, but he is good at heart. We like to see ourselves reflected in our characters and that's why we have to have a balance because no one is completely good or evil. This applies to villains too. I love complex villains and they're much scarier when there's good and bad in them. It means that no one is evil by nature and they made the conscious decision to be evil. I also love stories where some of the bad guys aren't really bad guys. They're just on the wrong side, doing their duty. Bad guys that your protagonists can respect are also super interesting because it begs the question: is anyone really evil? Aren't we all just the protagonists in our own stories? To fully flesh out your character's strengths and flaws, I like to make a list of both and then expand upon them. For example:

Self-righteous: Benjamin's mother raised him with a strong sense of morality and he has since learned to never compromise on his morals. However, this can lead to him believing that he is morally superior to others, even when they are faced with a tough decision that may not have a right answer.

I hope that this helps anyone struggling to create three-dimensional characters. I've found that these methods are extremely helpful when I'm trying to make my characters believable. Stay tuned for more posts and more free writing resources. I'm considering compiling all of my characters resources into an ebook. Thoughts?

[the-bounce-back]

REALISTIC RESOLUTIONS - 5 TIPS TO ACHIEVE YOUR GOALS

So, we’re officially a week into the New Year™. How’s that working out for you so far?

Since I’m currently just chilling, packing and waiting to move to London and start my new job, I’ve been left with a lot of time on my hands to reflect on how terrible 2018 was for me - and I refuse to have a year that bad again. I’ve decided that 2019 is going to be dedicated to rebuilding my happiness, confidence and mental health again, and I’ve set my resolutions with this in mind.

Besides giving me a ton of blog ideas, all this time reflecting and planning has challenged me to ensure that my resolutions don’t end up being unrealistic and empty promises to myself, that I end up abandoning halfway through the year. After much umming and ahing, I’ve finally come up with 5 tips to keep in mind that should (hopefully) keep me on track, and I believe that they can be applied to other people’s resolutions, too.

I know what you’re thinking.

“But Liv, I swear you said that New Year Resolutions are a scam? Is your head alright?”

First of all, revelling in hypocrisy is my favourite pastime. One of my biggest flaws is that I give stellar advice to everyone around me, but I rarely apply it to myself - which is probably why my life is a bit (a lot) of a mess right now. Taking my own advice is actually one of my goals for this year, because I’m really very wise (on paper). Also, read my disclaimer.

Secondly, this advice can be applied to any type of goal setting at any time - not just New Year Resolutions. My “New Moment, New Me” mantra from my previous post is still very much applicable, thank you very much.

And finally… the title slaps. Sue me.

With that out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff. 

The way I see it, you basically need four traits/skills to achieve your goals:

1, Patience. 2. Discipline. 3. Motivation. 4. Organisational skills.

Patience helps you trust the process of slowly but steadily getting closer to your goal. Discipline helps you stay on track, even on bad days. Staying motivated makes you remember why you started and helps you envision how proud you’ll be of yourself when you achieve the goal, and organisational skills help you plan, track and reflect on your progress. Combining all four should make you a goal-smashing machine, a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately, I barely possess the first four at all. I can fake being patient for a limited period of time, but deep down I want to see results almost as quickly as I have started. When I don’t see any progress, I start hating myself and finding comfort in an extremely unhealthy coping mechanism, thus killing the little discipline I had. And after indulging in said coping mechanism, I feel guilty and fall even deeper into a spiral of self-loathing, ask myself what the point of even trying was and give up - losing every single ounce of motivation.

All healthy and not at all self-destructive ways to deal with failure. Love it.

Luckily enough, I have been blessed with exceptional organisational skills. Seriously. There is little I enjoy more than buying a new notebook or calendar, writing endless to-do lists, writing down future plans and brainstorming. I even have 3 different notebooks for this year to maximise my ~*oRgAnIsInG*~.

This ain’t no game, homie.

The amount of time I spend on devising workout schedules, meal plans, budgets and habit trackers is actually bordering on insane - but I love it. If I could apply this same energy to the other 3 traits, I’d probably have reached my goal weight, have my driving license, have £100k in my savings account and be 100% sober by now. Let’s all laugh together please.

With these incredibly triggering self-attacks in mind, I will now present my 5 tips on how I plan to achieve my goals to bounce back this year, and from now on.

1. Be kind to yourself.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll know that this is the hardest and most important one. Being self-critical isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when it gets to a certain point it stops being helpful and starts being damaging to your mental health. I am probably the queen of beating myself up over minor slip-ups, mostly because they feel like such a big deal at the time. Honestly, the amount of times I’ve literally cried myself to sleep because I skipped a day at the gym, cheated on my diet or messed up at work is really heartbreaking to think about, because it never was that deep in the first place.

We are humans. We f*ck up. It’s okay.

The most important thing here is to acknowledge the mistake, accept it, figure out what needs to be done to prevent it from happening again and get right back on track towards your goal. Try to see the mistakes objectively as minor problems that you need to find a solution to, instead of applying emotion to it and seeing it as a negative reflection on your character. You are not a bad person for messing up. I cannot stress this enough.

2. Understand that certain goals will take time to achieve.

Sweetie, no one in the history of the world has achieved their dream body 2 weeks before their girls trip to Magaluf, no one has ever magically woken up with billions in their bank account, and no one has ever instantly gotten a million subscribers on their recently started YouTube channel.

Things. Take. Time.

As much as we all wish that we could snap our fingers and get everything we wish for, life doesn’t work that way. It takes consistency, hard work, endless motivation and self-discipline to achieve certain things, and it’s important to be realistic. Besides, you know what they say - nothing worth having comes easy.

Instead of seeing time passing as an enemy of progress, try utilising it as a tool to determine the logistics of achieving your goals. Devising a realistic timescale detailing the what, where and when of the different stages of my goals has worked wonders for me in the past for smaller projects, especially when I was in uni. Why I haven’t applied this to my adult life yet is a mystery that will remain unsolved, but I am definitely going to apply this to my larger goals from now on.

3. Set milestones or miniature goals to keep you motivated while working towards your “big” goal.

I think this is especially helpful for goals that are focused on something numerical, for example losing a specific amount of weight, going a specific amount of days without drinking/smoking or saving a specific amount of money. Being able to celebrate how far you’ve come since the beginning is equally as important as focusing on how much further you have to go - if not more. It provides boosts of motivation along the way.

In theory, that is. I think this is going to be challenging for me because when I’ve tried it in the past, I’ve ended up putting even more pressure on myself for not reaching the milestones in a timely manner - leading me to throw all my toys out of the pram like a spoilt brat, and ultimately giving up on the goal altogether. However, this time around I intend on applying Tip 1 to my miniature goals as well, so you know...hopefully it works out. We’ll see.

4. On your off days, remember why you started.

Trust me, I know this is easier said than done. Everyone has bad days where everything just feels pointless and like nothing is even worth putting energy into. Maybe you’ve cheated on your diet for the third time in a week, or spent money you promised yourself you were going to save, or been unable to turn down a drink despite getting close to being a whole month sober (P is for projection!). Chances are, you feel very disappointed in yourself and start questioning whether or not you’re actually serious about this life.

This is where forcing yourself to remember why you started is imperative, because it really could be the only thing standing between moving past the slip up and losing your motivation, leading to you giving up completely. If you’ve been regularly tracking your progress, use this as a reminder of how far you’ve come. Also, refer back to Tip 1 again. Sure, holding yourself accountable for your actions is important, but that doesn’t mean you now have to fully cancel yourself just because of one bad day.

More time you’ve even come further than you think, so reflecting on your journey up until you messed up is definitely a good idea.

5. Stop comparing yourself to others.

For me, this mostly applies to my fitness goals and how far other people in my age group have come in life. I used to spend so much time on social media scrolling through endless pictures of people that “have their sh*t together” - with their perfect bodies, perfect relationships, perfect engagement rings, perfect baby scan photos, perfect homes… you get the point. All it ever did was make me feel like crap about myself and like I somehow was too far behind in life, or somehow inferior to my agemates. Because we all know that having a perfect life online makes you superior to everyone else.

To be clear, I’m obviously joking. Once you understand that everyone’s journey is different, and that your own blessings will come when the time is right - you will be so much more at peace with yourself. Minding your own business and channelling all your energy into bettering yourself (for your own benefit!) is extremely invigorating. With this in mind, you should also ensure that the goals you are setting are solely for the betterment of yourself, and not to compete with others (I’ll definitely be writing a post on this at some stage, so… stay tuned and that).

So, there you have it. My 5 tips on how to achieve your goals with your sanity and mental health intact. At the end of the year, maybe I should revisit this post and reflect on how the tips worked out for me in achieving my goals? Perhaps I can reflect on how much better my patience, discipline and motivation has become?

If not, well...hopefully it can help you. If it did, let me know so I can feel better about putting all this energy into giving yet more advice that I didn’t apply to myself. Good luck!

Love,

Liv

[cincinnie]

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked

KidLaw. Psychopath AU. Eustass Kid, an unstable, misanthropic, dropout FBI candidate is a genius criminal profiler. Forcefully recruited by his step brother, Kid helps with an investigation about serial killings, accompanied by psychiatrist, Dr. Trafalgar, who pushes Kid’s fragile sanity for his own unexplained desires.

PS: A really crappy fic and unedited too. 

Special FBI Agent Francis Killer held his breath, disappointed with the reports about the latest victim of his new serial killer case. After years working for the FBI, he couldn’t understand this serial killer at all. He was out of the books, unmotivated killer and seems to be just picking on women who have the same traits from eyes to weight, which wasn’t unusual except the killer didn’t take trophies.

Agent Penguin, his newest and the one who stayed longest than his previous partners was a great detective and has a double degree in forensics and psychology but with their combined brain power, none of them could figure out what kind of killer they were chasing.

Killer clears his throat as he stared at the victim’s lifeless body. She looked like she was in peace, with her eyes closed, hands on her stomach and lay stay still on her bed. She looked like a sleeping beauty as just how the case was dubbed to be.

“Don’t move.” Penguin said, pointing his pen on the wound in her stomach, most likely she was bled to death but there was no sight of blood anywhere in scene except the ones in her night gown. The wound did looked like she was stab but not with a knife.

“Anything?” Killer asked, touching the girl’s lips with his gloved hand. There was no bleeding inside, she didn’t fight or bite back for sure. Her name was Jean Crossford, a straight A college student who went missing for a week and reappeared in her room. Parents practically didn’t notice anything inside the house as they were busy looking for their daughter.

“There’s something in her gown.” Penguin said, as he grabbed his precision tongs and picked something on the bloody night gown.

“What is it?”

Penguin picked it up, slowly as Killer grabbed a small evidence bag and handed it to him. Penguin dropped the foreign item on the bag and zipped it tightly.

‘It’s like a chip?” Penguin replied, spectacle with his own answer.

“Doesn’t look like a wood chip.” Killer said, while looking at it. “Bone perhaps?”

“Her bone?”

Killer nodded.

“This is a first time.” Penguin hummed, putting the evidence back to his case. “Cross fingers that our killer made a mistake.”

Killer stood up and looked at the body further. There was 3 puncture marks, one was in the heart, lung and liver. Wasn’t precise but Killer didn’t know where was first entry wound.

Killer sighed heavily as he took off his gloves and threw them in the disposable bag. Penguin tossed him another set of gloves and looked around much further. Jean’s room was a typical one. Interesting books were stashed neatly in the bookshelves, a couple of family pictures hanged in the wall, more than a dozen honor medals was framed as well, and her study table was neatly arranged. She was one heck of a smart girl just looking at her room but Killer felt something missing.

“He didn’t take any trophy.” Killer said, to Penguin who’s eyebrows rose.

“Just the same as the two other girls.” Penguin agreed, taking off his hat revealing his odd silver hair.

“Our killer didn’t rape any of our girls, none of them show any needle marks anywhere, no items missing in their rooms and it’s practically, they were killed for nothing.”

Killer shook his head, as he felt an headache was coming it’s way. “Our killer is different...a killer must have a motivation to kill or rape them for a reason and none of it is showing. “

“Maybe, he cuts a good amount of the victim’s hair?” Penguin suggested, taking his case with him. He’s suggestion was good but it didn’t fit.

Killer shook his head again, circling around the victim’s body. “There should be at least a hair stuck in the neck, or clothes or some irregular strand on others as well.. But it’s nothing.”

Killer heard Penguin sighed. “Another dead end but this one it gets colder. Our killer is getting smarter and that chip might not even tells us nothing.”

Killer heavily sighed. It didn’t made any sense on how the killer got inside the house either. There was a small window on the victim’s room but it was locked with a key, no force entry on the door as it was locked with key number pass. There was a secure entry dates and times register but nothing. They have nothing.

“Fuck.” Killer cursed. It was a dead end.

“Should I call someone to help us out?” Penguin suggested.

Killer shook his head. “We can’t. Everyone got their hands tied on that cartels and other killers right now.”

Penguin tsked, as he removed his gloves and threw them away. “I’m putting this on the truck for the labs later and a quick interview the parents. You still going to hang around here?”

Killer nodded. “Just a few minutes. I’ll go with you.”

Penguin nodded, opened the door and closed it silently.

Killer let out a frustrating sighed. He got nothing and he was desperate for answers or any prediction but he wasn’t getting anything with this killer. He couldn’t understand it at all. Without basic understanding on the killer, he can’t predict its next move and this damned killer was one heck of an unpredictable opponent.

Killer’s thoughts were interrupted with a call from his cell.

“Francis Killer.”

“Agent Killer?.” Killer raised his eyebrows, it was Benn Beckman the vice- head of the FBI agency.

“Sir? What may I do for you?”

“I saw the files you sent yesterday.”

Killer gulped. “And? What of it, Sir?”

“I heard his name before. Why are you hiring someone who didn’t made it to the academy because he was deemed unstable?”

“He’s a genius, sir. I’ve known him for years and he might help me out on my case.”

Killer heard him, hummed. “I met him once. Quite a character, I must say.”

“He is. But I can handle him.”

“No. You can’t.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“You can’t handle him while working at your case which is your highest priority, Killer.”

Killer paused, Beckman was good at pointing it out for him. “What do you suggest?”

“Hire a psychiatrist or not hire him at all.”

“But..”

“No buts, Agent.”

“I’ll think it over, sir.”

“Not with the case like yours.”And he hanged up.  

Killer closed his phone and dropped it on his pockets. He was fairly disappointed that his conditions weren’t met fully but it was better than nothing especially with the growing deaths of his case.

Killer opened the door and closed it slowly. He ducked down the yellow police tape and walked down stairs where the traumatized parents of Jean sat on their worn out sofa. Penguin was in front of them, writing in his notebook. Every last information would be crucial but without any leads, it was pretty much impossible to catch this bastard.

“Hey, Penguin.” Killer called him and noticed, Penguin was wearing his cute hat again. Killer pressed his lips, trying to hide his face. He find the younger male adorable for some reason, he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah?” Penguin replied, as the mother started to sobbed louder.

“We should go.”

Penguin nodded. They said their goodbyes to the old couple and left the whole investigation to the forensics team.

WHWHWHWH

Killer sighed, as he held the key to the apartment in front of him. His hand rested on the knob and in doubt, what to do. He already called twice but no one picked up the phone. He felt like a mother in his state but this matter was needed to be address before the killer kills his fourth victim.

Killer looked at the time, it was already 7:05 am in the morning. Too early to wake up anyone like his step brother, who was a vampire.

Killer inserted the key, opened the door slowly and closed it, as silently as possible.

He was greeted with less than a dozen cats, meowing at him. They’ve gotten older and much bigger than the last time, Killer have seen them. It’s been months since Killer was able to visit and clean the apartment.

The kitchen was a mess with a mountain of unwashed dishes remained in the sink, beer bottles littered almost every inch in the house, ashtrays overflowing with cigarette buds and books stacked unorganized in the bookshelves.

Killer sighed. It was going to be a pain to clean again. The pure white cat started to meow at him, louder. Killer picked it up and patted it on the head, earning a nice long purr. Killer dropped the cat gently and walked towards the bedroom. The door was left open, probably for the cats to go in and out easily. He opened it and there, Killer could see the large lump in the bed even when the dark curtains were drawn shut with no sun going through them.

Killer grabbed the blanket and peeled it off the younger male in one move. Earning a loud grunt and a stream of curses.

“You weren’t answering my calls, Kid.” Killer started.

“Sleepin.” Kid replied, as he shivered. “Fuck off.”

Killer sat in the edge of the bed and opened the lampshade. Kid groaned in pain, cursing at the lights. He looked shittier than the last time, Killer saw him. His red hair was longer below his shoulders, red eyes looked duller, eye bags gone much darker, lips cracked, and skin is much paler. Killer suspected, he was in drugs again.

“What did you do?” Killer scolded, knowing his voice sounded like a mother.

“Nothing!” Kid glared at him. “This is what regular people look like when you bloody wake them up!”

“Are you in drugs again?”

“No.” Kid’s immediate answer as he snatched the blankets off, Killer’s hand and sunk back to bed. Kid sounded like he wasn't lying.

“Get up.” Killer commanded as he stood up, and try to look for Kid’s phone.

“Time?” Kid asked, taking a pillow and placing it over his head.

“7:10 am.” Killer replied, glancing at his wrist watch as he found Kid’s phone under his much cluttered bed, with less than twelve percent battery.

“Fuck off, cunt.” Kid snarled, middle finger raised.

“Got a case.” Killer said, as he walked towards the bedroom lights.

“I don’t care.”

“Serial murders.” Killer replied, turning on the main lights. Kid’s room didn’t change that much. The good ol’ three screened monitor still existed that could bring FBI’s computer system to shame. His bookshelves are more stacked with books that seems to almost fall off with one tap. The closet looked like it was going to explode with clothes, walls was plastered with medals and punk band posters and whisky, brandy and beer bottles are stacked like a cards in the carpet.

Kid groans louder as his cats started to jump in his bed.

“Three girls with the same physical traits died bleeding with three entry wounds but knife was not used.”

“Get the FBI. You’re one of them. Go solve it.” Kid sarcastically replied as KIller watched one of his cats, lay down on Kid’s head.

“My superiors are letting you have a temporary FBI status.”

“I don’t give a shit, Killer.” Kid spatted, grabbing the cat by it’s neck. Kid yawned, taking the cat off his head and placing it on his lap as he sat down, and continued glaring at Killer.

“Same stray cats?” Killer asked, casually.

“Same cats.” Kid’s immediate reply, throwing the cats off his bed. He wore nothing but boxer shorts.

“You look shit.”

Kid chuckled, looking something behind him. Which was a bottle of jack Daniels.

“You look shittier than me.”

Killer scoffed. “Told you, I have a case.”

Kid offered his the bottle of Jack which Killer bluntly,refused. It was 7 am in the morning and that was the longest Killer have seen Kid sober for years not until he chugged the Jack straight.

“Look.” Kid replied, somewhat blurred. “I’m labeled as unstable, am I right? So cut the shit, Killer. I can do what I want now.”

“Wasting your time as a drunkard, whoring yourself for cash, becoming a cat lady and wasting your brilliance away? This is an opportunity, Kid. Think about it.”

“No. I’m done with FBI crap.”

Killer sighed, massaging his temples. “Kid.”

“I said no!” Kid shouted, throwing his pillow straight to Killer’s face but Killer didn’t flinched a bit. “I’m done the moment, they stamped my bloody file with the big fat failure.”

“You flunked your bloody psychology exam, Kid!” Killer said, picking up the pillow. “It doesn’t need to be as smart as you to figure out why you failed your exam.”

“That I was a living person with a thin borderline between a psychopath and normality?”

“Yes, Kid. That’s what you are and that what you believed what you are! But that’s in the past now. You can change! Maybe, my superiors would let you stay in FBI.”

Kid scoffed. “I’m bloody sure, they gave you a condition.”

Killer fell silent.

“I knew it.” Kid said, as he grabbed his pants on the carpet and put it on.

“You have to lecture  students when you don’t have to help in the case. Keeps you off drinking.”

Kid scoffed. “No. That’s your condition.”

Killer raised his eyebrow. “What..?”

“I want the condition you superiors gave you. Not yours which is completely boring.”

Killer chuckled, Kid wasn’t rusty as he thought, he was. “They want me to hire a psychiatrist to be your partner.”

“Forget it. There’s no way, I’m doing that.”

.

.

.

.

TBC

[cosmosogler]

hi guys i am going to write a little bit early today, since i don’t have anything better to do.

today i slept in, considering it took me as long as usual to fall asleep last night on top of going to bed an hour after i wanted to. my dreams were that odd mix of like every negative emotion ever blended with a strange, intense fondness for the people in the dream. or at least, one of them. like i’d known them forever and knew almost everything about them, but there was enough that i didn’t know that they still had surprises, and i just liked everything about them. but the person exists only as a figment of my imagination so nothing matters.

they rarely recognize that i exist, when i dream about them. they can be different people, or other living things. i wouldn’t describe it as romantic interest, or physical attraction. just an aching familiar fondness. like the feeling i get about eve.

i wanted to talk a little more about star vs the forces of evil before i forget, and before i move on to the next show on my list. i’ve seen several comments about how “interesting” toffee is as a villain. i disagree. savvy and sinister villains aren’t any more interesting than any other kind of villain. that role in children’s cartoons has been well explored by this point. what would be really interesting is if toffee brought something new to the table. i was thinking about it... right now he really comes across as an “all according to keikaku (keikaku means plan)” sort of guy, and nothing in the story has challenged his Evil Plan. like, at all. what i really want to see, genuinely, is what makes him afraid. what makes him anxious. what happens when his Evil Plan is barely holding together. how does he improvise. 

i was thinking in particular of dio when i was having that idea, even though dio doesn’t imply that he’s genuinely afraid of jotaro until the big confrontation. and for the majority of the show he’s the same “all according to plan” guy. the difference is that we learned about him personally in part 1, so he’s not, like, mysterious and aloof as the villain in part 3. we already know he’s a large ham with a side of cheese and is also very persuasive. 

bill cipher was an interesting disney cartoon villain because he DIDN’T have an Evil Plan. there’s no way he was capable of planning that far ahead. he had short-term plans, but he mostly relied on his sheer power and impulsive kicks and seized opportunities as they came up and leaned back on the inevitability of a prophecy to Take Over the World.

i think about villains a lot...

when i was young i was always fascinated by villains. they were so much easier to make interesting than heroes. and they were having so much fun! i mean, my characters were generally heroes, because i was little and wanted to pretend they were my friends, and villains won’t be nice to you. but i spent a lot of time admiring disney’s villain songs and writing about characters that couldn’t decide if they were heroes or villains. right before high school i decided i wanted to dedicate some time to figuring out how to make a hero as interesting and fun as a villain. i’m still... working on that.

i dunno. it comes down to having natural traits that can be both strengths and flaws in different situations. and if you’re going to make a saturday morning cartoon villain, a captain planet villain, then you don’t have to worry about that and they can still be fun to watch. but if you go for a complex or sympathetic villain like toffee seems like he’s supposed to be, then they have to also have those same kinds of flaws. how are we supposed to see what the villain is made of if they don’t get put through the sort of gauntlet the heroes do? i want to see villains that are given as much development as the heroes get challenged emotionally and intellectually. i’m tired of watching their plans work until the third act when the heroes overcome them. 

maybe then they’re not really a villain any more if that happens. maybe that request is way too vague. maybe i’m guilty of the same thing in my stories. i tried to play with the concept a little bit in the jumbi story by having the main villain present in the story only through memories. it turns the main character (his minion, basically) into both the protagonist and the antagonist, struggling with understanding that yes, he’s really dead, and he’s not coming back, and he can’t hurt you if you don’t keep following his Evil Plan.

anyway, i went to therapy again today. we didn’t come up with a note i can send to the grad schools, even though i brought it up and i had the notebook right there in my lap. it’s just one sentence. why can’t i write it?

we retreaded some old territory with the whole “you can’t kill yourself, you signed a contract to be alive! if you kill yourself, you’ll go to hell!” thing. it still made me just as angry and uncomfortable as the first time. especially with the, like, knowing smile, and the near-wink, like i just don’t get it. she doesn’t even believe in hell. she didn’t use the exact word “hell,” but it’s... hard to imagine what else she could have been referring to.

i noticed something though. i was very quiet during her mini-lectures, even though i was picking apart her words as fast as she was saying them, and i had arguments i could have used. i just didn’t. it was too hard to make the words come out of my mouth.

i don’t have this problem with asher, though. if i disagree with something he says i feel comfortable voicing that and discussing our different points of view. i guess with the therapist it feels like a lost cause already. i don’t feel... comfortable enough to audibly disagree. i don’t trust myself to not stammer. because i descend into a horrible stuttering spiral every time i am even a little bit nervous. even when i’m not nervous it’s a 50/50. 

i again wonder how i look when i’m sitting there letting her say all she wants. she told me it was hard to get me to say anything. i don’t think she gave me enough time to think about what i wanted to say next before she would gesture for me to continue though. and i tried to bring up some stuff i’d written down here this week, but it sounded dumb and uncertain when i said it out loud. so, like, i’d give up before i was able to articulate the full thought. so my concerns came off as kind of, shallow? 

like i said i wasn’t sure i fully understood meditating, and i had the words in my head, but i didn’t quibble about not understanding how to think things through and also not think at the same time. how to experience the present moment and my emotions as they came for long periods of time without thinking about how i felt about what was happening, or why i was feeling the emotions. so she explained the basic premise of meditation and the goal to focus on breathing. which wasn’t really what i was asking for, or, it wasn’t what i WANTED to ask for... but i guess, technically, that’s as far as i got in my question.

“who are you?” she’d ask. i would ask what that meant. who are you is an extremely broad question. i asked if she meant, “what do you value?” because that’s generally how i think of it. she said “what IS your value?” 

i felt kind of bad, because just the other day i wrote about judging people for not thinking about stuff. and i had to tell her i didn’t think about that very much. maybe it was a lie. i don’t think HIGHLY of my value, but maybe i’ve thought about it before, because i obviously came to that conclusion at some point.

she tutted and smiled and shook her head. “you don’t understand yet,” she said.

i put all my self worth in my brain. i wanted to say that i felt like the thing i valued in myself didn’t exist, because i am not clever enough to figure out how to solve my own problems without someone else telling me what to do. i can’t do anything without someone else giving me directions on how to do it. how am i supposed to work at the edge of human understanding, and broaden our knowledge about how the universe works, if i can’t make up new rules? instead i said nothing and looked at the back of the door. 

i put all my self worth in my brain because obviously i’m not going to be a viable life partner with my orientation. or my wonderful personality. (it’s not a wonderful personality.) or the plain, compact package i come in. or physical ability. but even my mind ain’t nothing special. it doesn’t even work right. 

i’m afraid of accepting the idea that my therapists put forward, that “i’m special,” because i feel like it would mean that i think i’m... better in some way. and also because it’s the same thing my mom would tell me, in between slapping me around for being worthless and emotional and retarded. “you’re going to save the world,” she’d say, with this manic look in her eyes, a kind of intimidating grin. “you’re emotionally stunted,” she’d say, and she may not have been physically hitting me but it was basically the same. “you look retarded.” “do you want to go back to wearing diapers?” “i’m going to put you on a leash.” i’m only good for one thing. everything else i’m deficient in. emotions, taking care of myself, following directions... and i’m not even good at the one thing i had to be good at to be worth anything!

i write all this down and then i am too tight-lipped in therapy to make any progress. i considered printing out some entries and giving them to her, but she might see that i didn’t care for her sermons. like “you go to hell if you back out of this deal by killing yourself.” isn’t that horribly unfair? to the people with the actual neurotransmitter malfunctions that cause suicidal thoughts? it’s like saying that since some people can apparently will themselves out of cancer, everyone should be able to, and if you die because of cancer then you didn’t try hard enough and didn’t think positive enough. suicidal thoughts come from, like, prolonged chemical imbalances. that’s a medical thing. it’s not just about willpower. it’s not just about “trying harder.” i mean, those are aspects of it, recovery takes work, it doesn’t just go away when you start taking meds. but it’s... mean, to say it’s your fault and you’re weak and you go to hell if you kill yourself. it’s mean. depression hurts and it’s mean to scare people into hanging in there. it’s not the right way to convince someone to keep living. there are other ways to do that.

it’s hard to argue with someone in a conversation format. it’s easy to get interrupted, and if my train of thought gets derailed i tend to clam up and start just agreeing with everything they say until they’re done talking. i feel like the only way i could possibly get this stuff across to my therapist is if i wrote it down and gave her the note instead of talking. and it’s hard to challenge someone who is way older and more experienced than you are, even indirectly or gently. i don’t really have the stamina for a long debate, and starting this conversation would mean i’d have to commit for however long it takes to finish. i have enough trouble debating with people who DON’T have the “experience” edge over me.

the therapist example, of course, applies to my feelings on arguing with people in general. it’s exhausting. and i tend to get really stubborn, even when it’s not warranted. and being stubborn means i get frustrated when people don’t agree with my reasoning. maybe that’s common though... it runs a little deeper than that. stacking my entire sense of self worth on my intellect (whatever that is, and how powerful or not it might be) means it is really seriously super hard when people don’t listen to me. at least, listen to me about things i take seriously. i don’t care about disagreeing over whether or not adventure time is a good show. it’s... fun to hear other people’s points of view in lower stakes situations. and i do change my mind about that stuff. but like, arguing about the value of science. or how the illusion of masculinity hurts us all. or how people of other races should be treated with respect. i get burnt out. and i get the distinct feeling of flailing my arms ineffectually at the ocean.

i dunno. i’ve changed my mind on how to go about treating people of other races with respect over the years, as i’ve encountered more information. but to argue with people who disagree with the basic premise, that’s... heartbreaking, i guess.

and that’s what i was thinking about today!!! it’s been an hour and a half!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if you read this far i’m sorry i tricked you into looking at a bunch of exclamation points instead of a conclusion!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[argorpg-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS and welcome to the crew of the Argo II, KAEL! The Gods have spoken: welcome aboard ANASFALEIA, known as VIRGIL VELASCO, with a faceclaim of JAMES REID. Please take a look at our checklist, and send in your account in the next 24 hours.

ADMIN NOTES: Reading your app, Kael, you took us by surprise. Virgil is not how we ever pictured Anasfaleia - and yet, we like it better this way! Your writing is so beautiful, and he is heartbreaking in the best possible way. We were particularly in love with the way you wove temptation into your app, posing Gaea as a very real (and personal) threat. Your extra plot arcs have the potential to bring a lot of depth to this group and our future plot, and we’re excited to see what else Virgil can bring! 

NAME/ALIAS: Kael

AGE, TIMEZONE, PRONOUNS: 20, GMT+8:00, He/him/his

ACTIVITY  & EXTRAS:  Between a thesis and my course, I might post around once to twice a week, as much as possible, but be real active on the Discord chat! Oh, and I’m down for all and any plots so you know,, ,, , , , wig.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED SKELETON: Anasfaleia

CHARACTER NAME: Virgil Andres Velasco

AGE & GENDER: 22, Cisgender male

FACECLAIM: James Reid, Brandon Perea, Lee Jong-suk (Name subject to change)

BIOGRAPHY:

ACT I: MORTAL.

You are no demigod.

Demigods are cloaked in legend, their fame or infamy written across the night skies as a testament to their greatness. There are songs and hymns of their deeds, written in stone for time to weather and grow. But from the whispers that follow you, it feels like the ichor in your veins was nothing more than water, the godhead in you merely a wilting flower, doomed to die at an early age. ( Hear them: dulled blade, tarnished silver, unwanted son. )

From the moment you were placed at your father’s doorstep, you became a liability, a fissure in the perfect mold of a marriage that he strived to keep—the duct tape and hot glue of his efforts finally breaking as you were brought to your home. He left, not even giving you a second thought, the mistake that he’d made a year ago a sight too harsh to bear. So you lived with your step-mother, who took you in all the same, and a half-brother that loved you as if nothing had ever mattered. Love was all you had known, but you knew you were different, a problem child in the family, only destined to break everything you’d ever known.

You were sent to a private Catholic school, where you’d learned about God and his love for humanity, where you couldn’t understand the words on holy text, where you thought you’d been cursed with stupidity your whole life. It was a disaster, you think, as you sat, making doodles on notebooks and looking at words floating off pages, not even bothering to make an effort anymore. Viciousness was a language you quickly understood, their words cutting you down as you failed quiz after quiz, the doodles on your notebook erased just as fast as they had appeared. You were never picked for anything, not as a date, not as a friend, not as anything but the facade of a boy as a laughingstock. Virgin Mother and Holy Father above, you prayed, as all sinners were wont to do, for guidance with all your heart. The nuns said that the Lord never heard selfish prayers, that he only dabbled in altruism, but you know you had to try and They had to listen—They owed you that much.

Burning passion never worked, so maybe reverence did—you got on your knees and prayed, prayed for blessings, to not be a disappointment, chanted Hail Marys and Our Fathers until your throat went dry. God was supposed to look at all Their creation as if it was good, so maybe he wasn’t part of Their plan, maybe he was a smudge, an unholy stain that would leave if bleached far enough. But you wouldn’t, you won’t. You will shake the heavens, and make God hear him, if you had to.

ACT II: DIVINE.

It was October, you remembered, that you were being followed. You were sure it was a stalker, someone who saw you as an easy mark, ready to stab you and take you wallet. The gaping maw that greeted you told you that you were definitely wrong. Death was a sure thing, with the flurry of claws and fangs greeting you, but you pushed, and you found only yellow dust on the palms of your hands. You told your step-mother, when you came home limping, fear and worry in her eyes. You grinned and laughed it off, the nonchalance on your face standing firm, as if the claw marks on your arm hadn’t faded yet. ( Hear it: godling boy, divine morsel, golden blood. )

The next day, your father came home.

Maybe that wasn’t right. It was another man, with a crisp tie and a purpose when he walked, far from the sullen man and dead eyes that seemed to greet you during visitation. Pack your things, he said, we leave in an hour. You looked to your mother—step-mother, and she only could give you a smile, and a pat on your cheek. Be brave, bunso. You can do this.

It wasn’t long before you had your things: a leather jacket gifted to you on your fifteenth birthday, a pair of boots from your brother, a silver ring from your mother, a picture of your family during Christmas, baubles of no real value to anyone but you. Maybe the place where they’d stick you was going to be comfortable, with a padded cell instead of cold rock. Maybe you could call Dante, your brother, once in a while after you were all better. Maybe it was going to be a surprise family trip, somewhere warm and sunny with lounges and tanning lotion. The world was full of maybes, and it seemed like you were going to find out what they were.

You counted twelve hours, from the flight to the cab ride. You asked where the two of you were going. Long Island. A campgrounds full of people. Somewhere safe. So you thought of the two of you in a tent, living off s’mores and hot dogs, looking up at the stars. It was a childish dream, foolish for someone of your age, but you didn’t have many things left to you but your hope, and you were going to be damned if someone took that away from you.

In your dreams, there is a woman, as beautiful as the day is bright. She looks at you with curiosity, a cracked chalice in her hands. There is an eternity in her eyes that you cannot comprehend; maybe it was weariness, maybe it was sadness. She does not speak to you when you talk, nor can she hear you, her radiant form flickering in and out as you try and reach out to her. You can hear her voice almost, barely above a whisper, but clear. Be safe, Virgil. Be safe.

ACT III: DEMIGOD

You are a demigod. But you’re not so sure.

Greek myths walk the halls, children with divine blood walking down the campgrounds with bows and blades alike. You are nothing like them, with only perfect skin and wounds that knit faster than they open. They are your family, Chiron said, and you will grow to love them. But you walk into the Hermes cabin, with bodies packed into each other, and you can see no love, only desperation. Desperate voices crying out for parents, for a place to stay, for anyone to hear their prayers. ( Hear yourself: I am worth more than this. I am. I am. I am. )

The other campers laugh at you, the way a foot stumbles during practice, or the way arrows miss the mark in front of you, but you wipe your tears  in secret and try again. You are born from divine blood, Olympian blood, and you are more than what they say. You learn the art of bravado and biting insults, accompanied by thick skin to defy their insults. For years, you burn your meals, giving reverence to the gods, and begging them to claim you. You talk to Eros, to Aphrodite, to every Charity and Season and Muse that they would choose you first and claim you in front of the camp. Maybe then, you would have the chance to prove yourself for all you’re worth, to prove them wrong with a triumphant smile on your face.

And you got your wish.

It wasn’t long before your mother claimed you, youthbringer to the gods, a flash of a wine-glass above your head and everyone thought they knew who you were. A child of a minor goddess, with no talents or traits to give him any notoriety, given too late when the best of them had fallen to the Titans. He was a Band-aid to a problem that the gods made themselves, only serving to further the interests of a dying goddess, and the immortals around her. He was cannon fodder, a fourteenth wheel. He was going to let them all down. He was a snake, a traitor in waiting for the Earth Mother. He was useless, unwanted, unworthy.

Did Achilles not beat his chest, nor did Atalanta call for men to best her? Demigods were called to rise above, so why shouldn’t you? This was a challenge in wait—your first quest, prophesied to bring greatness to all who partake in it, and you will master yourself and come out on top. The Earth Mother may look down upon you, as the Greek demigods do, but you will prove yourself, you will be better than any of them.

However, a voice creeps into your head as you board the Argo II: ruin, ruined, ruination. The worthless child of a worthless immortal, able to do not even the least of what his companions can do. The bravado you had built begins to give way, as you watch them all, heroes in their own right, embarking on a quest to save the world. A few days in, you turn into a silent observer, dealing with minor things: polishing Celestial bronze when you are wont to do, and leaving food for pegasi that return.

You will be better than any of them, the first of the Greeks, you whisper under your breath, a promise, a prayer.

But the voice whispers back: Perhaps. The first to turn. The first to leave. The first to fall to the Earth Mother.

FATAL FLAW/DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC: ανασφάλεια

The gripping insecurity at the back of his mind never stops, hounding him as he walks the Argo II. Virgil has always felt out of place, almost a beat behind other demigods in terms of his skill and experience, always striving to catch up, but always just a ways behind. Trying hard comes as second nature to him, and so does his hypercritical eye, whenever he fails at something spectacularly, his thoughts growing black as he tries to redo and replay scenes of failure over at his head as he hides behind his well-constructed facade. Perfection is an absolute that he’s learned to love and loathe, never being enough to reach it, but always tasting the slightest drop when he comes close every time.

EXTRAS:

POWER BREAKDOWN

THE GENERAL:

Virgil can alter appearances at will, but he can do it to himself better. For himself, it’s usually a few minutes of concentration to alter minor features, such as add or subtract crow’s feet or a few freckles on his face. It takes longer to alter important things, such as eye and hair color, or even the whole face on himself. For other people, he can do it as long as he focuses really hard, and thinks about it well. It takes around an hour to fully transform someone’s face to the exact specifications, but portraits or references significantly reduce

Changes usually are irreversible, which make it harder for him to maintain a semblance of identity, but are usually helped by using prior pictures of the subject.

Unknown to him, he can change the age of someone he comes into contact with, partially or fully, sapping or retrieving their youth. This is a sort of healing that being a child of Hebe does, but he adds a few hours, or years, depending on the length of contact, while shortening his own. This presents itself as mild to severe exhaustion, depending on the length of time he has with the afflicted.

THE PHYSICAL:

As a child of Hebe, the goddess of youth, Virgil is blessed with a wellspring of youth wherever he goes, being resistant to both sickness and the detriments of age, since his cells are in a state of perpetual health. While he does have the ability to heal faster than the average demigod, enough hits will send him to a state of rapid degeneration, deteriorating quicker than the average demigod. Sufficient ambrosia or nectar will always restart his systems and get him to rapidly heal, after some rest.

Whenever he “heals,” he actively shortens his lifespan, transferring whatever energy he has left into a certain body. This manifests in dark circles and a loss of pallor every time he transfers some of his youth to a patient. Massive transference of youth gives him a few wrinkles, and permanent loss of melanin in the hair, and may result in lasting long-term effects, though he’s never tried it, nor learned to do it before.

HEADCANONS

i. godhead

You have a brother. Mortal, vulnerable, but better than any demigod you’ve come across—Greek or otherwise. You would give your godhead up for him, the endless sheen on your skin, to protect the frayed edges of a grey sweater and the wrinkles on his godawful suit. It is a shame that he wasn’t a demigod, you think, that a flickering flame can have an immortal mother instead of a star burning bright, but there is no use in wondering. You know you will defend him, leave him the last burning vestiges of your godhood so that he will live far longer than you will. It will be your last wish, a final protection. You may prove to be useless to everyone else, but not to him. Not ever.

ii. prayers.

Once, you thought Aphrodite was your mother. It came up, a question during visitation, when you asked your father what your mother looked like. Beautiful, he said, like a model in one of those runways. So you prayed, and prayed, and prayed, until you came across doves that wouldn’t even look at your way and roses that seemed to close whenever you passed by. But you learned, through portents and prayer and a prophecy, that you were not the child of an Olympian, but rather a forgotten goddess, a cupbearer in the corner of the skies. You know your mother now, and you love her as a child does, but you could not help but think of what could have been if she weren’t.

iii. better.

There is an uncertainty in every demigod unclaimed in the Hermes cabin, unknown children and the children of esoteric gods that dot the halls, and you know them all. Children of Nemesis and the weighing of their scales, children of Thanatos and their peaceful eeriness, even the children of Deimos, with their shark grins and pointed teeth. You know their names and their stories, when the twelve cabins stay blind to all of you in the rafters of the Hermes cabin. There is a righteous anger sometimes, whenever shame does not come to visit, burning inside your chest. You hate the gods, your fellow campers, as you watch everyone scoff and laugh at the group—you are demigods too, and you all deserve better than scraps of acknowledgement and backhanded compliments.

TIDBITS: will kill for dark chocolate but has an itchy throat a lot because of it. knows all disney songs up until the new ones because he hasn’t learned them yet. has a pair of boots and a leather jacket as a present from his brother always on hand. knows english, tagalog, fifth grade mexican and some vague ilocano. good with his hands, but better with a shortsword or a dagger. hates long range fighting after being nailed overhead by a water balloon by an apollo camper. loves the word soliloquy, since it looks and sounds ridiculous to him. modeled once for some bulgarian line of clothing, but refuses to talk about it.

AESTHETIC: the greyness of rainy days hidden by lights in the living room. looking at the mirror, seeing only imperfections where there are none. lipstick stains on skin, rubbed off from a mistake you’d made. heat in a leather jacket, and the stubbornness of not taking it off. sweat pooling on your brow, from hard work and exhaustion. louder whispers in the back of your mind. the lingering heat of body warmth and the emptiness that comes with its absence. a promise, a prayer, a proposal. an eternal photograph, never fading.

TRAITS:

(+) thick-skinned, determined, amiable, observant

(-) guarded, deceptive, critical, blunt

CONNECTIONS

i. pthonos — the motivation

You are a lightning rod for their ire, more often than not and you bear it better than most. Perhaps it was the years of insults and mockery that helped you cope with their anger towards you, towards the world, towards Ares. Backing down was never an option back then, not from the way they laughed at you or their vicious tongue, and it sure wasn’t right now. You exchange words like sparring partners, and leave like embittered enemies. Their hate fuels you, and you just know that the first moment you get, you’re going to show them how wrong they are.

ii. amarus — the righteous

The anger that they feel towards the gods strikes true, and has caught your attention—no demigod would ever say it out loud, but you know that they are right. Between petty grievances, blood feuds, and the way that they treat others like pawns in their celestial games, it’s a wonder that the gods haven’t torn themselves asunder. You’re never one to discount a good idea, and you’re keen on hearing what they have to say, Roman or not.

iii. cynici — the question

Children of Aphrodite, or of Venus, always leave you with a copper taste in your mouth. They talk to you about beauty, about manipulation, about bending wills with the bat of an eye, and you could only wish you could have the power that they have. But they’re cut from a different cloth, all hard lines and cold gazes, as if love has done them a personal offense. Maybe it’s because they’re Roman, all about order and structure, but you want to ask them what’s made them so disenchanted.

PLOT POINTS

i. guidance of the earth mother.

I’d like an arc where the Earth Mother tries to wear him down by her whispers, telling him that all of their effort is futile, and to join her in bringing down the gods of Olympus. It would be fun to see, since the Greeks aren’t exactly on the best terms with the Romans, and to solidify the thoughts of him not being enough for this quest. The fallout would be amazing as well, since a fracture between the groups would be an unimaginable wrench in their plans.

ii. legacy of the legion.

Roman demigods put stock in work and dedication, he thinks, not the way your blood is made, not whose god you’re sired from, and to Virgil, that makes him envious of what they have in Camp Jupiter. From the lives they built inside New Rome to the praetors that walk the halls, he feels like there, he would be taken seriously. I’d like to see him try and connect with the Romans, in a way that would at least make him use his grit and dedication. Don’t trust Romans, but he’s sure he can make some exceptions.

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