#and unfortunately there's no good way to tag the librarian :(

[aziraphales-library]

Hi wonderful librarians! Thanks for providing this service. I'm hoping to hear a few of your favourite non-AU fics in which the author is delightfully creative with how they have Aziraphale and/or Crowley use their supernatural powers. E.g. guess who by attheborder where they settle a bet by temporarily wiping their memories and trying to figure out who's who. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some fics in which miracles are used in fun, silly, and dramatic ways...

Heavenly Dues by IneffableDoll (G)

Months after Armageddon, Heaven still receives receipts detailing Aziraphale’s daily miracle usage. Michael makes the mistake of checking them one idle day. OR Aziraphale reheats a lot of tea and admires his demon, scandalizing an archangel in the process.

Five's the Charm by EA_Lakambini (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley challenge each other to not perform more than five miracles in a day. (They’re both also competitive, and may or may not be above sabotage.)

Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0 (T)

Only inexperienced angels will become so overwhelmed with emotions that they accidentally perform a miracle. Doing so is laughable. Aziraphale would never! Except that he has... five times now. Each and every time when he was around the demon Crowley. Why on God's green Earth would a demon make an angel feel so strongly that he would perform accidental miracles? CW: discussion of car accidents, a nightmare with the use of holy water on Crowley by Crowley, description of a panic attack. It'll be very clear when it's coming in the story though, so if you want to skip it you can! Mind the tags :)

Barking Up the Wrong Tree by inflappible (G)

Crowley loses a bet with Adam and gets turned into a dachshund for a week as punishment. Aziraphale has to deal with the consequences.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

One Miraculous December by journeytogallifrey (T)

Candles. Mistletoe. An entire frozen lake. Festive memories from their past together keep appearing out of nowhere. Crowley's sure he's manifesting them accidentally out of sheer romantic desperation. It's bad enough trying to hide his unrequited love as they grow closer post-Apocaloops - what if Aziraphale sees the objects for what they are, a window into his yearning soul? Unfortunately, the only way to banish the objects seems to be talking about each memory... Meanwhile, Aziraphale is just trying to woo his demon boyfriend with big gestures, ready to prove his devotion. And if Crowley acts awkward about the miracles? Surely that's just his difficulty accepting affection. The solution: shower him with as much of it as possible... Eventually these two will communicate, even if it takes 'til the end of the year. For now there will be cuddling, excuses for closeness, sappy words, flashbacks, nostalgia, bickering, and an obscene variety of holiday foods. Oh, and footnotes. That's right. We're doing those too.

And the one you mentioned...

guess who by attheborder (T)

“Ha!” exclaimed A. “We’re married!” He grabbed C.’s hand and held it up, pointing at the gold band around his ring finger. C. stared at the ring, and then at A., a delighted grin appearing on his face. “Oh— that’s brilliant!”

- Mod D

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Tumblr Fic List Part 1

Hi everyone! With AO3 currently down, I thought I'd remind you all that almost all of my fics are also available to read right here on Tumblr! For years I've had the habit of cross posting just about everything so if you're looking for a particular fic, you should be able to find it on good old Tumblr.

I tag all my fics with: Precious Posts so you can also use that to find anything newer I haven't added here yet.

This is all my older fics, from my Masterlist. When I get a little more time I'll do a part 2 with my newer stuff.

To Teach a Robin to Cook: Jason teaches Damian how to cook

Baby Bat Vs the Evil Librarian : Steph and Damian take a trip to the library

Grayson’s Guide to Robin Boys Movie Night (IMG): The list of rules Dick wrote for movie night

Guide to Robin Boys Movie Night (FIC): Dick decides to write some rules for movie night, the other Robins have opinions

Movie Night: The Mummy: Jason does not like bugs

Movie Night: Cheeto Bomb: Dick thinks Jason planted a Cheeto bomb in the DVD player. Jason insists otherwise.

Lost Boy: Tim’s mad at Damian (again) and takes a walk to cool off

Fireworks: The Batboys attend a fireworks show for the 4th of July and Jason has flashbacks. Angsty

Baby Teeth: Bruce notices that Damian has lost a tooth, and decides to play Tooth Fairy. Fluff pure and simple.

Talk Yourself Out of This One: Dick get’s kidnapped and is forced to wait for help to arrive.

Kidnapped With You: It’s all Jason’s fault. Or is it Damian’s? Either way both managed to get kidnapped and now have to get along until Batman arrives

Misplaced Mail: Tim decides to go to college and doesn’t tell the other Robin boys.

De-Aged Tim: Timmy gets shrunk down to a six year old and Damian has to help him get back to normal.

Magical Mix Up: Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian all get body swapped. Will they fight or get along long enough to fix things?

Lights Out: Jason finds himself in a situation when Tim passes out on him while his chest taser is still on

The Hunt: Bruce and Damian go on the search for a missing remote

Prank War: It’s Batboys vs Batgirls

Something in the Tea: Damian drinks hallucinogenic tea and can’t escape the visions of what he wishes his family would be like.

Party Chaos: Duke just wants to survive this party, unfortunately for him the rest of the Batboys are at the party and intent on causing trouble.

Trust: DickBat era fic where Damian gets into some trouble after a fight with Dick.

Karma: Damian’s got the hiccups so Dick tries to help him out on patrol.

Comfort Sweater: Damian get’s caught stealing one of Dick’s sweaters.

Play Lessons: Mindless Fluff as Dick and Dami play Cheese Viking together

Burdens: Written for Dynamic Duo Week 2016 day 6: Leave Me Alone

Discovery: Dick and Damian do a science experiment with Geodes

It’s Called a Hug: DickBat era. Damian doesn’t understand that hugs aren’t just a reward for good work.

Like Any Other Kid: Damian can’t stop having nightmares, finally he decides to go to his father for comfort.

Nightmares and Dreams: Bruce has a nightmare that Damian’s still dead and decides to check up on his son.

Cuffed: Dick and Tim end up handcuffed together and have to rescue Jason

Chosen: Based on a HC where Damian has trouble believing Bruce really wants him.

Album: Tim’s looking through one of his old photo album’s when Dick and JAson find him.

Father Time: Tired from the night before Bruce decides to stay in bed all day. His children decide he needs company.

Favorite Colors: While Dick and Damian are shopping for a new hoodie for Tim Damian makes an interesting purchase.

Lost Not Gone: My version of Damian’s reaction to Tim’s ‘death’

Super Sleepover: Jon sleeps over at the manor

Father Daughter Dance: Bruce and Cass go to the Ballet

Learning to Ride: Bruce teaches Jason how to ride a bike

Adoption: Alfred pushes Bruce to adopt Tim

If I Live to See the Dawn: Jason’s hurt and Damian’s got to get him home

Learning to Ask: Dick takes care of an injured Bruce

Heartbeats: Takes place between Batman Rebirth issues 16-17 and follows Bruce taking care of his kids

Target Practice: Damian and Steph play laser tag

Anxious Heart: Damian deals with some latent fear toxin, Bruce helps him out

Art Show: Tim runs into Damian while going to see one of his photos on display

Family Attire: Dick and Damian go clothes shopping. DickBats era

Unintended Consequences: In trying to hide his own illness Damian ends up getting Tim sick

Always Interesting: Cass buys a waxing kit and all the boys want to try it

Not a Burden: Tim gets hurt on patrol and doesn’t want to bother the family

With Love and Patience: Dick muses over taking care of Damian, there may also be suspenders involved. DickBats era.

Long Overdue: Jason offers to take Damian on patrol with him

Some Kind of Normal: Sometimes Bruce forgets just how young Damian is

Trapeze Training: Dick takes Damian out on the trapeze

Sick Day: Bruce is sick and Damian wants to make sure his father gets proper rest

Haunted Manor: Damian and Jon explore a haunting in the manor

Checking In: The batboys start to worry when Bruce is out of town and hasn’t contacted anyone in a while

Preserved Heartache: Damian sees a video of his own death

Hugs and Cookies: Dick brings a ‘get-along’ rug for the holidays

Like Old Times: Bruce and Dick on a stakeout

Safety Net: Snapshots of Damian learning to trust Dick

Irritating: Damian picks on Dick

This Stupid Family: First person pov. Jason’s little brother’s realize he too is a little brother and act accordingly.

Then and Now: Bruce dealing with Jason’s death juxtaposed with the family now

In Charge: Jason and Bruce make lunch while Alfred is out. Robin!Jason

A Little Craft Project: Damian asks Babs for help cheering Dick up

A Bad Night and Good Tea: Bruce can’t sleep, thankfully Alfred’s there to help

To Pass Through this Night: Dick died during Forever Evil. His brother’s find out and help him deal with it.

Faking It: Damian fakes being sick, Dick reacts to it. DickBats Era

Dreams of Wires: Damian’s feelings on the chip his mother put in his spine

Don’t Get Sentimental: Tiger takes care of Dick

Robin in the Batcave with the Rope: Damian get’s kidnapped by the Riddler and Scarecrow and forced to play clue

Breathe In Breathe Out: Damian gets buried, Dick worries Part 1 2 3

This Weight Off Of Your Shoulders: Damian gets sick, Alfred takes care of him

After Everything We’ve Seen: Dick finds Damian curled in the corner of the couch

Bone Tired: Dick is tired, Bruce is there to help him out

Just to See You: Temporary blind Damian, Big brother Dick

You Won’t Wake Up Alone: Dick knows he’s about to die, he just doesn’t want to do it in front of his little brothers Part 1 Part 2

First Breath After A Coma: Dick ruminates on his death, Damian’s, and all the terrible things that have been happening lately. Angst, no fluff

Your Job or Mine: Bruce gets hurt, Dick takes care of him

New to This: Dick’s getting used to his new busy life, and learning to take time for Damian

Accustomed to Standing Alone: The first time Damian’s kidnapped as a civilian

Bleeding Heart: Damian finds a dying doe and sits with her, Dick helps take care of the rest

Sun Spot: A lazy day with Dick and Damian

Of Baskets and Braids: Dick can’t sleep so he goes to find Bruce, and they get lost watching Youtube videos

As the Years Go By: Dick is growing up, and Bruce isn’t really sure how to deal with it.

A Bird in the Hand: Damian gets turned into a robin…for real. Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Those Days We Miss: After Damian picks a fight with Dick, he ends up kidnapped and pretty sure no one is going to come for him.

Stay Here, With Me: Damian gets soaked on patrol, and as a result he ends up sick. Rest and medicine should help, but Damian finds himself getting worse and worse. Thankfully he’s got Bruce (and later Dick) to help sort things out.

You Always Bring Me Home: When Batman is caught by an explosion he calls the person who can always find him, Alfred.

The Care and Yeeting of Robins: Bruce comes home to find Jason in his bed. Jason refuses to move, so Bruce does what he has to in order to stand his ground and decides sleeping on the floor is the only option.

Flash/Prompt Fics:

Damian and Tim: That’s Not a Dog

Dick, Damian, and Cass: No, no, it’s okay, I’ll be your bridge. You can walk all over me

Damian and Dick: I stabbed my last twelve brothers. Why should you be different?

Jason and Steph: Not only am I a late bloomer, I’m late for everything

Young Dick: Not only am I a late bloomer, I’m late for everything

Steph and Damian: I stabbed my last twelve brothers; why should you be any different?

Tim and Damian: Would you mind not setting my stuff on fire every time you get angry

Older!Damian: I find this to be highly illogical, incredibly ridiculous, and absolutely irresistible. Let’s play

Damian and Alfred the Cat

Tim and Damian: Damian attempts to irritate Tim

Tim and Jason: Tim’s tired and saying weird things

Batman Voice: Damian’s got a ‘Batman voice’ and it comes out at the best of times

Shrunken Sweater: Bruce’s sweater has shrunk to the perfect size

Being Sick is Stupid: Robin Dick and Bruce fluff and minor sick fic

Damian gets tricked into sleeping

Dick and Damian angst-fluff

Long Fics:

Super City: Damian and Jon on an adventure in Metropolis

Losing You: Dick loses his memories of Damian and the two try to deal with it while going after the villain responsible (plus Tim and Jason get to help)

Finding Us: The sequel to Losing You. Explores Jason and Tim’s relationship to the Batfam

[vodika-vibes]

Ask and you shall receive the wonderful vod'ika!

For your 650 Followers, could we have Dogma in a Mystic AU 👀 either the one you already have going on or, consider, he's an Indiana Jones type (who is mostly trying to get ahead of robbers, but not "it belongs in a museum!").

Hope this is what you're looking for 💙💙 thank you for writing amazing fics.

Hopelessly Devoted

Summary: You and Dogma have been partners for years now, there’s no one on the planet you trust more, and you like to think that he feels the same way about you. Unfortunately, Dogma keeps his thoughts close to his chest. And you honestly have no idea where you stand with him.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1889

Prompt: Indiana Jones/Warehouse-13/The Librarian AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I finally got this to a place where I'm happy with it. This is more Warehouse-13 and The Librarian AU than Indiana Jones, but really, all three of them are very similar if you think about it. Warehouse-13 was a SciFi show, followed a pair of Secret Service agents while the traveled to collect dangerous artifacts. The Librarian followed a Librarian who's job it was to collect dangerous artifacts from around the world. Warehouse-13 had things like Edgar Allen Poe's journal and pen, while the Librarian had things like Excalibur. Although, I think all three had the Arc of the Covenant.

“Careful, you don’t want to drop it,” Dogma warns you as he watches you slide the Arc of the Covenant into its place on the shelf.

“I know, Dogma.” You reply with a roll of your eyes, “Have I ever dropped anything before?”

Dogma doesn’t reply until he’s sure that the Arc is secure, and then he activates the security system around the ancient artifact, “There was that one time with the White Rabbit,” He reminds you as he turns to look at you.

You sputter indignantly, “That is like comparing apples and oranges, Dogma!”

A small grin lifts his lips, “Is it?”

“You can’t compare a golden box to a living, breathing animal!”

“I can, and I did.” His grin widens as he watches you, and then he turns and motions for you to follow him, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You chase after him until you’re walking next to him, “And you’ll finally let me treat your injuries?” You ask as you eye the nasty cut over his eye.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me. I’m worried about you. You got hit, hard.”

Dogma leads you to the small gold cart that the pair of you use to navigate the storage building, “Better me than you. Besides, me getting hit gave you the time you needed to actually get to the artifact.” He slides behind the steering wheel, and you climb in next to him.

“We both know that if they opened the Arc they would have been killed. Our interference was pointless.” You grumble.

“Saving lives is never pointless.”

“They were terrorists, Dogma.”

He flashes a small grin at you, “All life is valuable.”

“Some lives are more valuable than others.” You counter, “And the lives of terrorists are less important to me than your life.”

“Supposed terrorists.” Dogma corrects as he starts the cart.

“Supposed my ass. You saw the auction list. It was like a who’s who of the world’s nastiest murderers.”

“And yet, their lives still have value.”

You heave out a sigh, “And this is why you’re the boss and I’m the assistant.”

“You’ll get there eventually.”

“Not really sure I’ll ever get to the point where I’ll look at bad people and think ‘Oh yes, these people are definitely worth my time and effort’.” You reply dryly.

He flashes you an amused look and then starts paying attention to the path again. It would be bad if he crashed into anything in here. A very good way to kill the both of you.

Luckily, even half concussed, Dogma is a very good driver. So you feel comfortable kicking your feet up on what you’d call the dashboard, though you’re sure that’s not what it’s called, and you slouch in the seat.

You’ve been an “employee” of this agency for close to two years now, and Dogma’s underling for almost that long. He transferred in from another division a couple of months after you were forced into the position.

You allow your gaze to slide over to Dogma for a moment, tracing what part of the face tattoo you can see, and then you focus your attention on the rows of shelves again.

Dogma’s a soldier, just like all of his brothers. One of an army of two million identical men. You asked him, once, what the deal with that was, and he just shrugged and changed the subject. 

The Program’s director, later, admitted to you that Dogma and his brothers are a result of an artifact used by a large group of unscrupulous cloners.

Their plan, you were told, was to create an army of super soldiers and then sell them to the highest bidder. Luckily for the world, the Jedi got there first and claimed the clones as their own.

When you first heard that story, you thought it was a joke. Something that the director told you to make you a little more agreeable to working with Dogma.

Then you start to meet his brothers, and they really are completely identical.

Still, Dogma’s route to this division is normal, from what you understand. The director picks through hundreds of personnel files and finds the right person for the job.

If only you had been so lucky.

You like to think that you aren’t a bad person. A little greedy, and a lot lazy, but neither of those traits are inherently bad. Unfortunately, when you combine greed and laziness with a neglectful childhood, you have the perfect mixture for someone becoming a criminal.

Once upon a time, you were a thief.

Well, okay, less thief and more grifter.

You have a knack for walking into a room and determining which person in the room is the easiest mark and which person would be the most profitable.

About two years ago, you managed to get your hands on an artifact, a locket. An artifact that you stole from a local museum. 

To this day, you’re not sure why you took it. The item made your skin crawl, and you wanted nothing more than to destroy it, but you found yourself unable to get rid of it.

The director saved your life.

The pendant belonged to Countess Elizabeth Báthory, a woman who, historically, was known for murdering young women and bathing in their blood.

After that day, the Director forced you to be a junior in his division. His threat was simple, if you don’t then you’ll be turned in to the police and arrested for your many, many crimes.

And, well, you’ve never been a stupid person, so you agreed.

Now, two years later, you’re glad you did. You travel the world and are still able to keep your skills sharp. But, much more importantly, you get to spend your free time with Dogma.

You trust Dogma, he knows more about you than anyone on the planet who isn’t you, and you like to think that he feels the same way. But Dogma keeps his feelings close to his chest.

While you’re pretty good at reading him, after almost two years, you’re still not sure where you stand with him.

Which is a shame, because you’ve been in love with him for almost a year now.

The cart comes to a stop, and Dogma pushes your feet off the dashboard, as he removes the key from the cart. “Come on, I think I saw the director upstairs.”

You groan theatrically, but follow Dogma up the narrow staircase and through the shut door that leads to where you and he do almost all of your research. 

The director is an older man, with pure white hair and thick glasses. You’ve never seen him in anything other than a strict suit, though you’re pretty sure that he has a family somewhere. 

“I have a new job for you,” The director says, his voice clipped.

“Already?” Dogma asks as he sinks into a chair and tilts his head back to allow you to actually tend to his injuries. 

“I wouldn’t insist if it wasn’t important,” The director replies, falling silent for a moment to watch you set the first aid kit on the table and pop it open, “Pandora’s Box has reappeared.”

Both you and Dogma freeze.

The both of you have been hunting Pandora’s box for close to 8 months now. Every time you get close, the box vanishes again. Stolen, or sold, or just lost.

“Where is it?” You ask.

“Rome.” The Director replies, “It’s on display. At the Vatican.”

Dogma releases a laugh, “Oh, easy then.”

You make a face, “The Vatican knows our faces,” You remind the both of them, “We did have to steal the shroud from them, after all.”

The Director nods, “I am making arrangements. Just make sure that the both of you are prepared.” He nods once more, and then stalks out of the room, leaving the faint scent of cigars in his place.

Dogma allows you to finish cleaning and tending to his injury, before he hops to his feet, “Pandora’s box, how long has it been?”

“Eight months,” You reply, “That was when the first report was made, at least.”

“We should start making flight arrangements—”

“Hold on!” You move and press your hands on his chest to stop him from heading to the computer, “We need to wait for the Director to make arrangements. We’re both wanted in Italy.”

His lips twist, “This is the closest we’ve been in months—” 

“I know. But we’re not going to accomplish anything if we’re in jail.”

Dogma stares at you and then sighs. “I know you’re right.” He murmurs, his hands coming up to wrap around yours, and squeezing, “I just want Pandora’s Box sealed away. It’s dangerous.”

“Everything we work with is dangerous. I don’t think there’s a single thing down there that isn’t dangerous.” You point out, “Pandora’s Box is empty, at least according to the stories.”

“Of everything except hope.”

“Exactly.” You scan his face for a moment, “We should continue our inventory while we wait for the Director to work his magic.”

Dogma smiles at you, soft and warm. “What did I do to deserve a partner as amazing as you?”

“Well, you accepted a transfer.” You lightly tug your hand from his grasp and reach up to lightly pat his cheek, “Smartest thing you’ve ever done, I think.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He scans your face for a moment, “I need to tell you something—”

“Alright,” You prompt as he trails off.

“I,” Dogma hesitates, “I just…” He sighs, “You know what, it’s not important.”

You stare at him suspiciously, “Oh, come on Dogma. Just tell me.”

“It’s really not important.”

“You said you needed to tell me, so tell me!”

He releases an explosive sigh, “Fine! I love you! I’m in love with you. Have been for ages now, and I felt like you needed to know. There, happy?”

You blink at him, stunned. “You love me?”

“You’re going to make me repeat it?” Dogma asks with a scowl, “Yes, I love you. You can proceed with your mocking now.”

You continue to stare at him, and then you giggle. You feel euphoric like you’re walking on air. Before Dogma can say something mean about your giggling, you fling your arms around him and bury your face against his neck.

You feel him tense under you, and he hesitates before he wraps his arms around you, gingerly holding you, as though you’re made from fragile glass. “What are—?”

“I love you too.”

The tension drains from Dogma so suddenly, that the both of you nearly topple to the floor. His arms tighten around you, and he presses his nose into your hair, “You do?” There’s something small and almost frail in his voice, it makes you tighten your arms around him. 

“I do.”

Gently, he pushes you back so he’s able to look at you. His dark eyes scan your face for a moment, and a small smile lifts his lips, “You’re telling the truth.”

“I generally do, just no one believes me.”

Dogma crashes his lips against yours instead of offering an answer. You sigh into the kiss and submit to his passion, it’s everything that you’ve wanted, after all.

You have a feeling that you and Dogma are going to be even better partners from here on out.

[diamondmeadow]

out of context snippet

tagged by my lovely @ohyou-pretty-things

This is a snippet from a fic I tried to save my arse with last year when I wasn't able to finish my original idea for RLfest. In the end, I haven't finished this one either thought there's a good chunk written out and I have it all planned out. Hopefully one day soon.

Remus doesn’t count on being caught in a snowpocalypse at such a place—at least, not when he wakes up that morning, not when he arrives at the library, and not when he takes his first break after two hours of research on British telefantasy of the '70s and '80s. It’s actually all quite filmesque, really, and for the first time in his life, Remus is surprised to realize that these things actually do happen in his geographic location in real life as well. He has seen enough movies with this premise, but he’s always been somewhat doubtful, skeptical about things until they actually happen to him personally, though with enough common sense and empathy that people still like him well enough. Maybe that’s why Remus went into film studies in the first place. For him, watching movies has always come with learning new perspectives, seeing (other) ways of life. That’s what Remus has really been interested in since he was a small child with a heart condition, always stuck at home out of his parents’ fear that he might drop dead in the middle of the schoolyard or a street. He truly owes a lot to film.

Remus stares out of the window of the library for a good while before he fully accepts that, yes, indeed, he has been snowed in—at a library he rode a bus for 40 minutes to get to, of all places. He is snowed in to the point that it’ll be impossible to leave the building until it stops snowing, and even then, it will be impossible to get any bus back home for a few more hours before someone in the city council decides it’s a good idea to send a few snow trucks around to make life happen again. To trudge back all the way home in these conditions would definitely take at least two or three hours, especially for someone like him, who gets unreasonably tired unreasonably fast (cue the heart). Plus, Remus looks down at his Converse with a small, resigned sigh—he reckons he needs to install a different weather app on his phone. Which he promptly does, because now it seems like he has all the time in the world in this place anyway, so he might as well.

Perhaps if Remus had paid a bit more attention to his surroundings an hour or two ago, when people suddenly started leaving en masse, this exceedingly unfortunate situation could have been prevented. But at 2 p.m., after four hours of research, Remus is still enthusiastically (and unironically) into it, with the deadline for his article for Cinema Retro looming over his head. So, he doesn’t notice and keeps his nose buried in '70s magazines and movie reviews. The next time he looks up, everything outside the windows is so white he fears conjunctivitis, and there are exactly two other people on the floor with him—the librarian Remus spoke to when he arrived at the library in the morning, and a young bloke with long, dark hair and earphones in his pierced ears, sitting in the very corner of the room, his brows knitted behind a huge pile of what looks like medical books. Remus twists his mouth to the side pensively, and after a moment, starts rummaging in his messenger bag, slung on the back of his chair, for a bottle of water. He has resigned himself to the idea of being stuck here for the next several hours. Slumping backward into the backrest of his chair, he winces a little as his bony spine collides with the wooden construction. Well, these chairs are not the most comfortable to sit in for much longer. Tagging anyone who would like to do it and @lemndrps @moonwalker94 @onehundredflamingos

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

All the canon relationships between my ocs

Power Doesn't Guarantee Glory:

Mathew Mckoy x Alex Ruinde. Sun and moon dynamic. Childhood friends. THE YEARNING!!! THE TENSION!!!

Inora Luis x Lani Morina. Religiously traumatized librarian and her girlfriend who was constantly getting called into the principal's office for starting fights when she was younger

–––

Built on Bones and Flowers:

Melian Doyle x Silas Doyle. Friends to roommates with a deeply unhealthy relationship to strangers to friends to lovers what more could you want? Tired coffee addict and his husband who's only slightly more mentally stable than him.

Analie Villeneuve x Alexandra Slater. SWORD LESBIANS SWORD LESBIANS SWORD LESBIANS SWORD-

–––

Corrupted Royalty WIP:

Casimir Clement x Alistair Evans. Guys I'm so normal about these two (lying). THE DEVOTION. ALISTAIR ALWAYS SAYING HIM AND CASIMIR CAN'T BE TOGETHER, THEY SHOULDN'T, BUT NEVER THAT THEY DON'T LOVE HIM. THE YEARNING. EVERYTHING AFTER CASIMIRS DEATH. (also prince and knight dynamic for the win)

Fletcher Clement x Cyrus. Nobody is doing it like these two. Enemies, lovers, childhood friends, and exs all at the same time. Spoiled prince and a boy who is morally against the monarchy in every way possible. The homoerotic tension in every scene these two are in together is palpable. Cyrus hates everything Fletcher is but part of him just wants Fletcher to be good, just wants his old friend back. Unfortunately thats not what happens. Sorry Fletcher you are NOT getting redeemed :)

–––

Six of Hearts:

Jackie x Jesse. Looks intimidating but is actually just extremely socially anxious boyfriend x seems cool but is actually just kind of a loser boyfriend

Sage x Via. Loser lesbian and her beautiful transfem gf. Cheerful chaos gremlin and anxious voice of reason. WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?

–––

Tagging: @littlebookworm69 @literatureisdying @imslowlydisintegrating @serendipminiewrites @holdmyteaplease @clearcloudlesssky @olive-riggzey @a-wondering-thought @hansenesque @sneebl (lmk if you dont wanna be tagged in posts like this in the future!)

@lordcatwich JUST SAW YOU REQUESTING TO BE TAGGED

[scuderiaspringsteen]

eons ago @nolansiegels tagged me to answer these questions and i've finally gotten around to it!!

tagging @gayferrari @catboyseb @rosberggp @97leclrc @kissingwalls @darlingnemesis @raikkonenslay and anyone else who wants to do it

do you make your bed? yes but very poorly. hate the idea of dust on my sheets however i simply don't enjoy making the bed

favorite number? hmmmm i like 9 very much. nice little triangles ect

what's your job? i'm a uni student double majoring in linguistics and anthropology with a minor in arabic and i'm an archival intern

if you could go back to school, would you? i'd go back to elementary school in a heartbeat. also i fear i enjoy uni too much and will try and stick around for some time.....

can you parallel park? as of literally one week ago i've magically been able to reliable parallel park. idk how or why but i'm not complaining

do you think aliens are real? welll maybe there's Something out there but probably we'll never meet which is for the best

can you drive a manual car? no but i do want to learn (that being said i pretty much hate driving in general and will continue to avoid it whenever possible)

guilty pleasure? british white boy rock music (think catfish and the bottlemen circa waves sam fender the wombats ect) and this very particular green tea mochi danish from a bakery near me

tattoos? none rn, although i follow a ton of tattoo artist and have a couple from whom i definitely want to get something. unfortunately i can't make up my mind and stick with it for longer than 5 seconds so !! tattoo plans on indefinite hold

favorite color? dark greens.....olive emerald forest ect. however i weirdly tend to both accumulate items and clothes in various shades of blue so like. people irl tend to associate me with that apparently

favorite type of music? uhhhhhhhhh. it oscillates wildly but artists i can p much always listen to are jeff buckley tamino springsteen z berg u know the sort. also mika. (i was gonna put him as my guilty pleasure unfortunately i do not feel guilty in the least. everyone go listen to coke studio stardust)

do you like puzzles? yesss always !!! physical puzzles are very dear to me bc my family is insane abt them in a good way but i also love puzzle games!

favorite childhood sport? figure skating <3 og dramatic bitch sport that i have been following religiously since early childhood

do you talk to yourself? mmm sometimes i narrate in m head but rarely out loud

tea or coffee? so. tea forever and always HOWEVER this is largeley bc american coffee is kinda ass and i'm reminded of this whenever i leave the country. bought some fun coffee stuff in italy which i'm very excited to use !!

first thing you wanted to be when growing up? a librarian and then a tech/business girlie (dark time in my life) and then a stage manager. kind of come full circle now !!

what movies do you adore? taking a minute to say tal u have incredible taste thoroughbreds 2017 is so near and dear to me. also and then we danced !!! i remember watching that in the shittiest quality with a russian dub over the georgian with english subs....excellent film also got me very into georgian food. and man from u.n.c.l.e is the only action film ever. okay actually gonna answer now here are some of the all time favorites (i warn u these are not all Good they're just Good To Me): the decoy bride, amelie, roman holiday, the blue caftan, the social network (sorry), matthias et maxime, jab we met, yeh jawani hai deewani, ek main aur ekk tu (2000's bollwood is sooo important to me)

[dichromaticdyke]

10/10 response as always, i actually don’t have much more to add, besides that i definitely agree with the take that if one cannot recognize which behaviors are satirized and choose to replicate those behaviors, they’re not mature enough to be engaging with the show! actually, it’s why i have so many concerns about minors in the fandom; mostly about their own mh and safety ngl.

which, while i personally believe that purity culture and trying to keep things “unproblematic” at all times is morally wrong, especially as it’s an extension of moral objectivism and is an inherently reactionary take no matter which way you slice it… the death of media literacy and anti-intellectualism ravaging even those just a few years younger than you and i makes it a valid concern, i think.

(also unfortunately no, i am not a scientist or doctor, just having a very specific hyperfixation and it won in the emoji sign off battle choice in my brain 💀 however, i have been wanting to get a mortuary science degree once i have the means to return to college for a while now!!)

-💉

OH BOY don't get me started lol. there's a reason i have "minors dni" in my pinned post (which some people don't FUCKING READ I GUESS). if you're a kid and you like this show that's fine but you have to understand that it wasn't meant for you or with you in mind, and you HAVE to understand that it's dealing with mature topics that you may not yet be fully able to comprehend.

and yeah i have a lot of thoughts on the way all literacies have dramatically decreased, thoughts that come with a combination from my MA and (in-progress) MLIS, i have a huge passion for both, i've written about them and am continuing to write about them extensively in my academic career. nothing can be fully "unproblematic" and that's fine and good. i am anti-censorship as a librarian though as someone with a literature background, i'm also painfully aware that many people engage with media uncritically and can reinforce the problematic elements, regardless of whether or not the media was criticizing them or supporting them.

there's a really good post i reblogged a while ago about it. actually, everything in my literary criticism tag is top-notch, i'm very smart and cool and my takes are always based and correct.

[dykexenomorph]

thank u @whodoesnataliehave and @hex-rex for taggin me!!

1.) are you named after anyone? Christopher Robin my good friend Christopher Robin.....

2.) when was the last time you cried? the day before yesterday for silly reasons! crying over everything is good for the soul i think

3.) do you have kids HELL NO!!!!!!! (i wouldnt mind having some WAY. WAY. WAY. into the future tho :])

4.) what sports do/have you played? none unfortunately, i wanted to play basketball in highschool (and 100% would've) but i wasn't allowed to bc i was still supposed to be doing physical therapy for my hips </3

5.) do you use sarcasm? YES ALL THE TIME, the only other person who can tell when im being sarcastic is my dad though, its so unfortunate TT

6.) whats the first thing you notice about people? didn't realize it until now but i think its their hair? im extremely bad w faces (and have trouble remembering them + telling people apart when i don't know them well) so i usually remember folks by their hair LMAO

7.) eye color brown

8.) scary movies or happy endings? both are good!!!!!!

9.) any talents? i can vaguely play guitar and ukulele + draw when my brain cooperates w me. im also very good at making origami cranes (DONT ask me to make anything else though. mastering one kick vs 1000 punches or whatever the hell bruce lee was talking about)

10.) where were you born? what are you..........a cop? (right outside of this TINY! ASS! TOWN! in georgia)

11.) what are your hobbies? reading, drawing, playin music, and crocheting soon hopefully :3

12.) do you have any pets? i have two cats (bobbi and shimmey) and two dogs (loki and coco). coco is my bestest friend and the most specialist girl in the whole wide world and loki is loki. the cats remain mostly unphased by my presence.

13.) how tall are you? ohhh you know. about this tall. like yey big i'd say. about as tall as i am. (5'2)

14.) what was your favorite subject in school? it was and still is history!! im also very fond of algebra and english :]

15.) whats your dream job GIVE ME A JOB AS A LIBRARIAN NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tagging: ANYONE WHO WANTS TO!!!!! IF U READ THIS AND UR MY MUTUAL DO IT!!! IF UR NOT MY MUTUAL ALSO DO IT!! or dont, its up to u 👍

[twilightknight17]

Some tag reactions to the ongoing Goncharov DVD Saga!

But first, an update. According to my friend, no one has picked it up yet. Which is sad. But I'm placing my hopes in the guy who comes in once a week and picks up like 20 random movies. He'll hit it eventually!

I'll check on it myself when I go in to return my book.

And now, tags, under a readmore! Because there are a lot of them. If this thing passes the Color of Bees post in like 3 weeks, I'm going to lose my mind. XDDD

First, we have enthusiastic librarians, distressed librarians, and people with Opinions about our DVD shelving. XDDD

Unfortunately, even if I'd wanted to go that far, all cataloging is done at Headquarters(TM). Might have been able to wrangle a barcode if I'd planned better, but no actual catalog entry.

I'm very distressed by the idea of not alphabetizing past the first letter. However, I am intrigued by the idea of separating the movies and TV shows. But god, we can barely get them to separate the manga and graphic novels, and can't get them to catalog the manga in a way that makes sense, so that's asking too much.

And if someone decides to steal it, more power to them. XD

Next, things people want in the case!

Obviously the overwhelming response was a rickroll. XD But also the Bee Movie, the Sonic Movie, Morbius, and several things that would be really cool, if I had any kind of video editing skills at all.

Shoutout to the two people who said "empty" and "post-it note" for being correct.

Other good tags!

I cannot for the life of me think of what kind of ethical issue this would be, but that one made me laugh, because a running joke (and source of frustration) while I worked there was the idea of committing Ethics Violations.

I doubt anyone would deny me a good reference for a joke. My bosses liked me. And no harm done, after all. It's not like I took a joyride through the building in the rolling mail bin like I wanted to during curbside. :P

And lastly, whatever is going on here:

This could have been the love story of our age, but that other person missed out. Tragic.

[rpfofficial]

i was tagged by @oliverbanks to answer 15 questions then tag 15 people thank u nick ^_^

1.) are you named after anyone?

yea my parents named me after an important figure in jewish history/the bible. i rlly love my deadname but unfortunately it isnt me anymore.... and i chose ethan just because i love the name, but i also named myself franz after kafka, franz thee kafka. so yeah

2.) when was the last time you cried?

i can't rlly remember. i rewatched Up with my mum a couple weeks ago and cried in the first ten minutes (as one does) so that might have been it

3.) do you have kids?

nope :]

4.) do you use sarcasm a lot?

yes a lot the only reason im good at sarcasm is cos everyone in my family is sarcastic all the time its the most common way i communicate with my siblings

5.) what is the first thing you notice about people?

eyes or nose.... or shoes depending on how im feeling when i meet them

6.) what color are your eyes?

brown ^-^

7.) scary movies or happy endings?

SCARY MOVIES 💞❣️💖💗❣️

8.) any special talents?

uhm im the best diver in my swimming team... and i can recognise a movie scene just by the soundtrack (if it has one) which obviously only applies to movies ive seen and that have a score but it tends to impress people :3

9.) where were you born?

in england 👍

10.) what are your hobbies?

drawing, origami, solving/making puzzles n codes n stuff... and a bit of photography :)

11.) do you have any pets?

no :((( but if you count my 12 yr old sister whos basically a dog then yea

12.) what sports do you/have you played?

i did ballet when i was very little (like 5 to 7), and football for a while when i was 9 and 10, but ive mostly been doing swimming my whole life like diving and racing and stuff

13.) how tall are you?

ok i used to think i was between 5'8 and 5'9 but ive been lying to you all and to myself the last time i measure i was 173 centimetres which means im just under 5'8. lol

14.) favorite subjects in school?

umm history + english

15.) dream job?

architect or director/cinematographer. or set designer. or librarian. idk

uhm tagging @chasingkings @sotiriabellou @justinefrischman @eraserheadbabygirl @simoneandgarfunkelle @lycanthrology @wikipediagf @redleavesinthewind @divisionboy ok cant be bothered to tag more people sorry mutuals. if u wanna do this just say i tagged you !!

[justcallmecal]

Please welcome Calloway Mateo Diego 'Cal' de la Luna (HE/HIS/HIM) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 35-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as the HEAD LIBRARIAN. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

quick facts

Name: Calloway Mateo Diego de la Luna

Nickname: Cal

Age: 35

Faceclaim: Diego Boneta

Pronouns: He/His/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Occupation: Head Librarian

Role: Hunter

[+] detail-oriented, prepared, diplomatic, self-reliant [-] insomniac, reserved, critical, self-destructive

background

TW: Child abandonment, Death, PTSD

Cal grew up in New Mexico, along with his twin sister Mal. He's not really sure what happened to his parents. One day he and his sister went to school like any other day, only to come home to an empty house. Without any immediate family it took a full two weeks before a teacher notified the state. Cal still doesn't know where his parents ended up. It wasn't uncommon for the family to move around due in part to his parents get rich schemes or scams. His father had mentioned going back to Mexico when the heat got too bad, and it seemed this time they decided two children would just slow them down.

Foster care wasn't the worse, at least when they were together. Multiple times different case workers tried to separate them. It never worked, Cal or Mal sneaking out and finding each other every time. They kept it up until they were 16, their current case worker opted to set them up on their own, after growing tired of the constant chases. Their apartment was cramped and money was tight, but they were together, that was all that mattered. During this time his sister started a Youtube channel, just making random videos on urban legends and cryptids. He'd tag along as her cameraman or just drive her to whatever latest lead had caught her attention.

The channel was more of a hobby for her, and a way to spend time with Cal. The twins would manage to get their GED's and even go onto college. With Cal majoring in library science and Mal opting for a literature degree, with a special interest in mythology, folklore, and cryptozoology. Mal would use her degree to grow her channel as a way to share how urban legends spread, and how folklore developed. She'd go back to Cal in order to get reference materials, or just to have company on the road. When she came into his library talking about some road with a fork in the road he knew she was planning another trip to see for herself what the truth could be behind such a far fetch tale.

Like always she asked if Cal would come with her, but this time and for the first time he had commitments to keep at his library. He'd tried to talk her into postponing the trip but she was adamant about going. She promised to send regular updates and that was the last time he saw her alive. After a weekend of radio silence he went to West Virginia trying to get the police to help him. They gave him the run around, and with a growing sense of unease he eventually took the same drive that Mal had done finding himself in Huntsville.

misc

When Cal arrived the first place he went was to the Sheriff's station, this is when he was told his sister had made it into town. Unfortunately she had come at night, that day Cal identified her body and she was buried in the town cemetery.

Cal has only been here for 2 years, after his first few months he took a job at the library for some semblance of normalcy. He struggles with insomnia as well as night terrors.

Cal has all his sister's video equipment, along with a hard drive that has some of their old videos. One of the videos also included is the last one she made, the night she was attacked...

[preseriesdean]

i was tagged by @herefortears​ for the 15 questions thing 😊 yes i recognize you!! thank you 💖 i think everyone has already done it, so i’ll just answer the questions!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

my middle name is my grandmother’s name, so kind of! :) my first name is original though.

2. When was the last time you cried?

last week, and also today.

3. Do you have kids?

no and i will never! ✂️

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

yes, and sometimes i use it wrong lol. apparently. unfortunately.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

their hair i think? not really in a judging way, but that’s kind of just where my eyes fall first. the face can be too much to take in at first.

6. What’s your eye color?

green! 💚

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

i tolerate scary movies but always prefer happy endings.

8. Any special talents?

i’m trying to think of something that’s not a skill or something i specifically practiced to get good at? maybe my sense of direction? i never get lost and can learn maps and routes easily.

9. Where were you born?

lower saxony in germany haha

10. What are your hobbies?

reading, sewing and needlework in general, cooking, writing, and playing geoguessr

11. Have you any pets?

my family cat passed away about a year ago, but no new pets.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

i am unfortunately not sporty at all but i used to dance for a bit in my teens. i really want to get into archery.

13. How tall are you?

169cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

english and history!

15. Dream job?

librarian, although i’m happy being an editor. but in a fantasy world i would own a café/bakery that’s also a book shop, obviously.

[imnayeonjaem]

nice to see (right through) you again | s.mg

"i hope that we can spend that time together in earnest."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked. character(s): gn!reader, song mingi (jung wooyoung) tags: librarian!reader, ghost!mingi, ambiguous relationship, slight suspense, conversations about life and death, references to past death/cause of death (car accident), gothic vibes, explicit language, brief anxiety attack, wy is a co-worker, light fluff, heavy angst word count: 14.1k summary: it's been two years since you met mingi for the first time. it's been a year since you last saw him. it's december again, and much has changed since your second encounter.. a/n: so, it was originally my intention to write this for halloween, but personal life got in the way and that unfortunately ended up not happening 😭 it also ended up being way longer than i intended (like, i really thought this was going to be 5k max 🙃); i decided to change some details so they work better with the overall story, and this also ended up being a bit darker in tone than i intended??? please heed the warnings, and if you do decide to read, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

×-×

The library you worked at was open until 8pm every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, and you always had the job of locking up. You didn’t mind it one bit, often savouring the quiet that the hour alone gave you once your colleague departed.

But the hour wasn’t so quiet, as fifteen minutes into you rearranging the books back to their appropriate places and dusting the shelves, a lamp mysteriously fell off one of the desks and crashed on the floor.

You’re at least thankful you were only holding a cloth.

Upon inspection, the bulb in the lamp hadn’t broken - thank God - but you replaced it on the desk with a heightened wariness. None of the windows were open, and even if they were, it wasn’t like the wind was going to be strong enough to knock a whole lamp over.

Personally, you were only semi-superstitious. While cosying up with a good ghost story was one of your favourite pastimes, and you found the history of haunted places to be incredibly fascinating, you’d never wager that anything paranormal would happen to you. Besides, the library didn’t have a history of being haunted, and none of your colleagues had ever reported mysterious activity worthy of investigation by ghost hunters or, in the extreme cases, expulsion from a priest.

Shaking your head, you adjust the lamp on the desk to make sure it doesn’t fall over again, and rationalise that it had probably been on the edge of the desk. Someone had accidentally jolted it and not realised its precarious position. No bother. At least it wasn’t broken.

You returned to your task; the incident had knocked five precious minutes of your time off, so you hurried around the ground floor of the library, making quick work of the shelves and the desks. You were now especially careful around the lamps, not wanting to actually break one.

A few moments later, there was a loud thump behind you.

Startled at the sudden noise, you swiftly pivoted on the spot to find three books had been knocked onto the floor.

Okay, you thought, what the hell is going on?

There was no way those books could have fallen off the shelves unless someone purposely threw them.

Moments later, you watched as another book protruded from the shelf. The motion was akin to being pulled, as though there was an invisible person looking for a book to read.

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering the possibility of there being a ghost in your library. What exactly did this ghost want? Could you rationalise trying to communicate with them?

Your mouth parted open and you uttered a noise, and the book immediately fell on the floor, causing you to jump back.

“Whoa- um..” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried again. “H-Hello? Is there anyone there?” A sigh escaped you; what were you doing? Your eyes briefly looked askance at the clock on the wall. Time was running out and you still had an entire upper floor to clean. All you needed to do was pick the books up off the floor, replace them on their shelves and get back to it.

So why were you frozen in place, bound to the possibility of an actual ghost standing just a few metres from you?

Inch by inch, you crept forward, hoping that maybe if there was a ghost, they would understand that you weren’t exactly frightened or upset with them, you just wanted to talk, or at the very least, help them with whatever they needed, be it anything at all.

It wasn’t lost on you that trying to broach communication with a semi-corporeal stranger who was likely centuries old was probably a waste of time. Not only that, but if you did manage it, it would be incredibly difficult to explain to your colleagues the next time you saw them. It wouldn’t exactly be news for the group chat.

As you stumbled forward towards the shelves with the missing books, you briefly looked down to see that they hadn’t fallen very neatly. It was almost more surprising; had they fallen too neatly it would at least explain the bizarre, paranormal nature of the event.

It wasn’t long before you started to notice just how cold the room had become. Maybe it hadn’t stood out to you before, but you suddenly had the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and when you next exhaled, a distinct cloud left your lips.

Cold room, objects mysteriously falling off of surfaces.. you’re shocked that the ghost hadn’t tampered with the lights yet.

Just then, a light flickered above you.

“Shit..” you muttered under your breath. These things were all very typical of the books you liked to read. Perhaps you’d read one too many in the last month or so.

Your cool demeanour faltered even further when another book came flying off the shelf. You were close enough by that point to actually see what the subject of the books were; to your shock, none of these books were ghost stories, and in the bleary haze of being substantially rattled by this situation, you almost forgot that you were actually standing by the poetry section.

You wrapped your cardigan around your body and sighed. “Alright, enough games, who are you and what do you want?”

You found yourself defaulting back to the style of address you’d seen in movies and ghost hunting TV shows. In all fairness, confronting a presence from beyond the grave that had found a way to set foot in the mortal realm turned out to be horrifying.

The ghost seemed to be in fairly low spirits; you weren’t sure how you knew, but something about the way they interacted with the world made you believe they were in a bad mood. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You had to approach this from a different angle.

Crouching to the floor, you picked up the last book that was pulled off the shelves and stood straight. This was a recent addition to the collection, you remember adding it to the shelf a few weeks ago: a poetry collection by Edgar Allan Poe.

“You like Poe?” You froze for a second. “Wait.. are you Edgar Allan Poe?” The question came out half-jokingly, like you couldn’t believe the Allan Poe would be haunting the quaint library you worked at.

A light, airy rumble seemed to filter through the air. Had the ghost just.. laughed?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.” You flicked through the collection. You liked Edgar’s poems enough, though skimming through this particular anthology put you back in the lecture halls and the library of your university, where you’d analyse his and others’ poems with a fine toothed comb until your brain hurt.

You placed the book flat on the shelf and went to pick up the other three. They were all collections from Poe.

“Wow, you really like his poems, huh?” You chuckled to yourself, then replaced all four books back to their original places.

For how cold the room was a few minutes ago, you were gradually starting to notice it less and less.

Folding your arms, you turned back to the general area where you thought the ghost might be, but it wasn’t like you’d ever be sure of that.

Not unless they revealed themselves.

“So..” you began. You shook your head in disbelief at trying to attempt communication, but shifted the embarrassment to the back of your mind. If all else failed, you would assume the ghost had just randomly disappeared and then finish your task in record time. “If you are there, where are you exactly? What’s your name?”

The temperature seemed to shift as a cool breeze passed by. Your back almost hit the shelf in bewilderment, and you watched as the lamp on the nearby desk - the same one that fell before - flickered on and off. It was a very deliberate act, with seconds in between the light turning on and off.

“I see.. H-Hello..”

A light gust flew over your head. You imagined they replied.

All of the computers had been shut off, but in an instant, the one on the desk before you lit up with its familiar log-in screen. You collided with the shelf and jolted all of the books; you brought a hand to your chest and felt the heavy thrumming in your ribcage.

The ghost typed something into the credentials bar.

Gradually, you stepped forward. The typing speed was at a snail’s pace, only one letter every five seconds.

Once the typing stopped, you took a closer look at the words.

hello my name is song mingi

“Song Mingi?” You straightened your back and took a deep breath. “Well.. It’s nice to meet you, Song Mingi.”

Your eyes were wild with amazement; either the ghost died after computers had come into fashion, or they had been dead long enough to learn how computers work in the modern era.

Unexpectedly, they deleted the words and wrote new ones.

you can call me mingi i died in 1968 i was a writer

“Huh.. I suppose that explains your love for Poe in some respects?” Another light rumble sounded.

yes he was a great inspiration i wrote many poems

“I see.” You thought hard on whether the name, Song Mingi, rang any bells, but to no avail. “Did you ever publish your poems? It’s just.. If I may be frank, I haven’t heard your name before.” never had the chance i was 25

Your eyebrows shot up. “My God.. I am so sorry to hear that.” A sombre atmosphere cascaded across the entire library. You panned over to the clock on the wall and noticed your shift was nearly, officially, at an end.

You heard more vigorous typing and turned back to the computer.

are you almost due to go home i am sorry i will not keep you

“Oh! Please- Don’t apologise. You weren’t to know.” You tapped your chin and hummed. Perhaps you could stay for a little longer..

are you thinking of staying

A sigh escaped your lips. An extra half an hour wouldn’t hurt.

“I will stay for a little while. Until half 9.”

For some reason, you felt the ghost’s - Mingi’s - mood lift. The computer immediately shut off.

You blinked a couple of times. The cold returned instantly, causing you to wrap up even warmer than you already had. A firm cloud left your lips upon exhaling again, and the tips of your ears began to go red.

The blinds rattled against the windows, and the lamp stuttered in and out of light to the point you thought the bulb might break. Your feet were planted to the floor, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t move a single limb.

Behind you, beams of light shone through the gaps in the shelves to the point you had to cover your eyes.

Eventually, the light faded, the cold subsided, and the noises stopped.

Instead, there was a man standing behind the shelf.

Slowly, the man revealed himself from behind the structure.

Coming face to face with Song Mingi was quite the rollercoaster. Once an amorphous entity typing away on the computer in fragmented bites, now a real, tangible human standing just a few centimetres away.

The sight chilled your spine from top to bottom. You weren’t sure how to even approach talking to him now that he’d revealed himself.

It took a few seconds to even take his appearance in. Tall, blonde, a rather casual, plain outfit consisting of a black shirt and jeans.

Mingi smiled at you. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it.”

You breathed a chuckle, unsure of yourself despite having incentivised his reveal. “You’re- You’re welcome..!”

He turned the corner and picked the book from the top of the pile of the four he had dropped earlier. “I apologise for startling you. I had tried to manoeuvre three books at once, thinking I could manage it, but alas, I could not.” He casually flicked through the book, as though it was 9am and he was an average visitor to the library inquiring about your recommendations.

You nervously chewed the inside of your bottom lip as you watched him alternate between the four books. You seemed to have so much to say before; talking with an invisible entity somehow proved to be a much easier task.

Mingi replaced the four books after a while then turned to face you. “So.. what’s your name?” he emphasised, light-heartedly alluding the irony of you knowing his and not him knowing yours.

You flexed your shoulders back and lifted your chin. “N.”

“N? Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would shake your hand but trust me, I am sub-zero, it would not be pleasant.”

You laughed, genuinely, and sighed loudly when it hit you that you were having a full-on conversation with a ghost. If your colleagues ended up believing you, they would never let you live it down. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance in return, Mingi.”

Mingi nodded his head, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “Say, how long have you been a librarian?” he inquired, hand clasped over his wrist across his abdomen like an inspector.

“Um, about three years?”

“No kidding? Have you always wanted to be a librarian?”

You shrugged. It wasn’t your top career of choice but you were content with your position. “I like it. I would probably do something like go into interpreting or be a copywriter if I had the opportunity, but I’m happy to be a librarian.”

“Ah, much like myself, in some ways. Wordsmith.”

The remark almost made you snort. Mingi flexed a brow. “In some ways, I suppose.” Things went comfortably silent for a time; truly odd. “Was Poe your only inspiration to become a writer?”

Mingi paced across the floor towards the other side of the room. “No, I had many inspirations. Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.”

“Ah, man of classic literature.”

“Indeed.” He had a sudden thought. “Say, computers have become incredibly advanced in the last fifty years, haven’t they?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You clicked a few keys and hummed a giggle. “Hm, 1968, you said..” Mingi tilted his head. “I suppose you must have seen computers in some of their earliest stages?” It came out as a question, not wanting to assume anything about Mingi’s life.

“Hm..” He pondered long and hard. “Not personally. I saw pictures of computers in newspapers and read several books about them, but I never used one and my family didn’t own one, when, well..” He trailed off and shied away.

You caught on immediately. Not wanting to pry any further, you changed the subject.

“What’s your favourite poem by Edgar?”

Mingi glanced up at you. “The Raven. I always liked the poems on the more gothic side, which you could argue is most of his catalogue but, The Raven has a distinct energy to it that has made me revisit it time and time again.”

“I suppose you were hoping to find it in one of those books?” you asked.

Mingi nodded. “But I suppose that search can wait now, since I have company.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards, and you found yourself doing the same in response. Of course, there were many questions on your mind, but you didn’t want to intrude on anything personal that could potentially upset him. Besides, it seemed especially rude to ask him about the circumstances of, well..

A part of you couldn’t help but think that the topic would be broached eventually; it just seemed inevitable now that you had met the ghost.

But Mingi seemed reluctant to share the information, at least for now, and that made total sense. This was completely different from any so-called activity you saw ghost hunters claim they experienced on their shows, where they’d usually throw out any and all questions in a desperate attempt to communicate. You had a duty to be respectful.

In the seconds of silence that befell, you decided to get back to tidying the desks. Mingi curiously watched you clean, and a humorous thought crept into your mind. “So, are you locked to the ground floor? Or could you travel upstairs if you wanted?”

Mingi chuckled, hearty and amicable. “I can move between the two spaces, yes. I take it you have to tend to the first floor as well?” You confirmed. “In that case, would you object to me joining you?” You shook your head, a smile cracking through the focused pout on your lips. “Excellent. Does the job ever get tedious? Cleaning, I mean.”

You shook your head again. “No. Honestly it helps pass the last hour of my shift away. It’d be a lot more boring if I had to just sit in the desk chair behind the counter the whole time.” Mingi conceded. “Plus, job’s gotta be done at the end of the day.”

“I suppose it has.” Mingi began to study his surroundings up close as if it was the first time he had ever visited. He passed by the community board where flyers for different events were pinned to the cork with tacks. He examined every decal on the wall as though they were an oddity. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him pick up a pamphlet and flick through it.

Another question popped into your mind. “So you can interact with the objects around you?” Mingi put the pamphlet down; for a second he thought you were scolding him. You assured him that you were just curious.

“I can touch things and pick them up if that’s what you’re asking.”You let out a curt hum. “So you have a corporeal impact on the physical space?”

He breathed a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” He straightened his back. “I can effectively interact with the world as any alive human would. I can see and hear crystal clear. I can talk, laugh, make facial expressions and gestures with my arms and hands. I can appear to any human who welcomes my manifestation and disappear in the blink of an eye, like..” He vanishes, and your eyes widen. A second later, he returns. “See?”

“Wow.. But, I couldn’t hear you say words when you were invisible.”

“Yes. Once invisible, I behave as any regular ghost would. My interactions with the world become distant and I have to find other ways to communicate. I couldn’t pick up a pen and write as an invisible ghost, nor could I produce a handwritten word on a page, but as you saw earlier, I can manipulate the keys to type words on a screen. Don’t ask me how that works, I have no idea. I wager it’s because it’s less strenuous and can be done with a little bit of mind control.”

“Mind control? Sounds like science fiction.”

“Okay, perhaps that’s not the right phrase.” He rested his chin against his knuckle. “I have to seriously think about it and will my mind to affect objects.”

“So telepathy.. or telekinesis?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Huh.” You pondered this for a while. “That’s fascinating.. So those rumbles I heard earlier while you weren’t visible.. laughter?”

Mingi grinned; big, stupid, cheesy grin. “Yep. You’re learning fast.” He sounded genuinely impressed.

You shrugged a shoulder. “I have a duty of care to do so!” you light-heartedly quipped.

Mingi’s smile grew wider and you were immediately taken by it. He was so friendly, such a pleasant person to talk to. Your eagerness to learn what had happened conflicted heavily with the louder voice in your mind telling you to bite your tongue and be considerate. You shunned the smaller voice for wanting to know so badly, inevitably causing guilt to surge through your entire body and make you shrivel up on the spot.

Your face fell and you avoided his gaze. “Better head upstairs,” you said, almost inaudibly.

In a flash, you were on the first floor, barely giving Mingi any time to process. He was there in a second anyway; add ‘ability to teleport’ to the list.

For a short time, you clammed up, and felt ridiculous for it in the process. You weren’t the one in the position of having a living human feel potentially inquisitive about your death. Not that you had expressed this to Mingi, but since he had something akin to telepathic powers, it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew immediately, or at the very least, could cold read your intentions just by looking at your face.

You tried to put it to the back of your mind and focus on the genial dynamic that had begun to develop between the two of you. He was kind. He was courteous. He hadn’t ripped your library to pieces to prove a point. You huffed and shook your head; as if he would.

Mingi, hands behind his back, approached you from the doorway to the staircase and said, “Are you okay? I sense a sudden shift in mood.”

You chuckled weakly. “Were you a psychic in your past life?” you tried to joke, but it didn’t reach. If anything, it peeled back the entire façade.

Mingi regarded you with concerned eyes. You shifted your gaze to the floor, absent-mindedly throwing the cloth back and forth between your hands to keep them occupied. Neither of you knew what to say for a time, and the silence which had at one point been fairly comfortable had now grown more steadily disconcerting.

“I’m sorry, Mingi.” Mingi drew back in shock. “Maybe I’m not the best company.” You laughed out the words, hoping they could bring some levity to the atmosphere, but instead, Mingi’s expression clouded over and became more solemn.

“I don’t think that’s true at all, N. In fact, it’s been wonderful talking to you.”

His words were too sincere for your brain to comprehend. Your spine locked, and once again, you were rooted to the spot.

“Why do you think that way?” he wondered.

And you thought, how the hell do I answer this?

You sighed, knowing no matter how you tried to explain it, the words wouldn’t come out right. It dawned on Mingi that you could potentially be putting an early end to this meeting, and he suddenly wanted to do everything he could to stop it.

“Please, don’t go just yet. Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve only felt how gracious you’ve been, and I can’t imagine there’d be anything so terribly serious that it would make you bad company.”

You stared at him, the earnest revelation sending a shockwave over your body. Please, don’t go just yet..

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I- Okay.” Mingi smiled then, and you did too. You promised half an hour more. Perhaps you could stay for even longer..

“Say,” Mingi jumped in, interrupting your thoughts, “what’s your favourite book?”

A smirk lifted your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know..”

×-×

By the time you had eventually decided it was best that you go - much to your mutual sorrow - it was nearing 10:30pm.

Never before had you imagined you would stay behind at the library for this long, but this was a significant event, worthy of the extra time spent wandering the library and talking literature with Mingi.

You opened up to one another about your lives, your university experiences - coincidentally you had attended the same one - and your day to day routine. Mingi was especially interested to learn of this invention he knew only as a computer within a tiny screen.

You reached the entrance to the library, and as you were about to open the door, Mingi couldn’t help but remark on this frankly insane turn of events.

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

Mingi smiled; you missed the miniscule level of sadness within it. “It truly isn’t.”

“I’m not in on the late shift again until next Thursday.. Would I see you again?”

Mingi eyed you. Something flashed in his eyes, but again, you managed to miss it. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’ll see you.. hopefully.”

He shrugged. You rested your palm on the handle, and Mingi instantly evaporated.

Turning your back, you saw an empty space. You smiled.

You’ll see him soon.

×-×

Not a single night came where you saw him again after that point.

It was almost like he hadn’t visited you at all.

You decided against telling your colleagues; they probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

Every late shift, you waited for a sign that he would return. He never did.

The new year arrived, and you wondered if you had to wait until December to see him again.

With that thought in mind, you had nothing left to do but wait.

×-×

A whole year had passed since you first met Mingi, and you hadn’t confided in a single soul about the meeting.

How could you? You rationalised that if you had told any of your colleagues, they either wouldn’t have believed you or they’d have to shut the entire library down. It felt greatly selfish to keep such information from them, but at the same time, nothing major had happened in the last year, not any time before that that you can recall. It was as though a ghost had never been there.

Besides, you didn’t want to kick up a fuss and potentially cause them to lose their jobs from a place they loved.

And now, it was the one year anniversary of you having met Mingi for the first time.

Another late shift, coincidentally. You hadn’t realised until you looked at your work schedule for the coming week and noticed that the two shifts lined up perfectly.

As you had done for the last year, you wondered whether Mingi was waiting for the same day to come by and see you again.

It would make a lot of sense, and would explain why the library had been so quiet.

Your shift for the day was coming to an end, with only you and another colleague, a guy named Wooyoung, left to make sure everyone had gone so you could lock up.

Wooyoung turned to you once the clock struck 8pm and said, “Are you okay? You’ve been a little distant since you came in.”

You turned to him and shrugged a shoulder, outwardly oblivious to anything he could be referring to. “How do you mean? I’m totally fine.”

“I wouldn’t dispute that in any other case, but I don’t know.. Something feels off.” You shied away from his light questioning and went back to typing on the computer. “Has something happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m completely fine, I promise,” you reply, curbing some of the bite in your tongue. You didn’t want to snap at him, he didn’t deserve that, and really, you ought to tell someone about the situation.

Perhaps it was finally time to.

With a final sigh, Wooyoung's eyes still fixed on you, you turned back to him. “Okay.. Can I tell you this in confidence?” He nodded. “One year ago today, I met a ghost in this library.”

He drew back in shock, his eyes wide. “A-A ghost? Here?” You nodded. “Wow.. I don’t really know what to say to that, ha..”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” You shook your head. “You kept this to yourself for an entire year?” His tone was one of astonishment, but it wasn’t accusatory. You internally thanked him for that.

“I didn’t know how to!” you defended in a quiet voice. “It’s not something I wanted to go spilling to all of you over the group chat, y’know?”

He hummed, seemingly in agreement. “I get your point, but it’s not exactly something you should keep from everyone.” You sighed, conceding his argument. “So- did you actually see the ghost? Did it like- appear to you?”

“Yeah. Well, not initially. But then he revealed himself. He was standing by the poetry section-” You gestured to his location; you remembered it like it was yesterday. “He had knocked some books over by Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Ah, gothic poetry man.”

“Mhm. And then he started typing on the computer.” His jaw dropped. “I know!” You weren’t convinced Wooyoung was buying any of this sincerely, but his reactions helped you imagine that he was at least taking you somewhat seriously. “Told me his name was Song Mingi, and that he died in 1968.”

“Holy shit.. Wow.. So then he just appeared and you.. talked?”

“Yep! I know, don’t even say it..”

“It’s pretty crazy, I’ll give you that!” Wooyoung looked about the place. “So..” He brought his voice down to a whisper. “Are you expecting him to come back tonight?”

Your eyes met, and you exhaled. “I’m not expecting him to, as such.. But if he did, it would make sense.”

Wooyoung glanced at the clock. “So I assume he arrived some time after everyone was gone?”

“Yeah, when I was cleaning up.”

“So if he were to turn up again, he should be here pretty soon, huh?”

You hesitated to say that it was likely he wouldn’t turn up when Wooyoung was around, but to be honest, you weren't sure. Instead you simply nodded; maybe Mingi would turn up with Wooyoung still around.

Then, to your surprise, Wooyoung stepped out from behind the counter and went to grab his coat without another word.

“Wait- you leaving?”

As Wooyoung shrugged on his coat, he beamed that same old mischievous smile you’d come to associate with him. “Well, it wouldn't be particularly wise of me to stick around if a ghost is due to arrive any minute.” You expected mockery, but instead got frank sincerity. “And if there's been zero activity over the past year, it stands to reason that he’s been waiting for this specific day to come back.” You pulled a face at him, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” With a roll of your eyes, his smile widened. “I’ll see you tomorrow, N. Let me know how it goes!”

He unlocked the door, headed out of the library, and locked it behind him.

You hunched your shoulders for a second before dropping them with a huff.

You decided to just get on with your task of cleaning the place up. At the very least it kept your mind occupied.

Speaking of which, your mind kept going back to your parting words last year.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except when you asked him if you would see him soon.

‘We’ll see.’

We’ll see.

Your attempt to keep yourself occupied proved rather feeble as you kept eyeing the computer that Mingi had typed on; some things about the library had changed over the past twelve months, but the desks and computers had stayed right where they’d always been.

Nerves crept all over your spine as you turned away and continued cleaning the ground floor. Eventually, you went to the staff room and pulled out a vacuum cleaner.

Your efforts to distract yourself meant you were completely oblivious to Mingi’s entrance.

Mingi smiled for a brief second, and then the vacuum cleaner was turned on. “Je~ sus!” Mingi cried, extending the first syllable as he covered his ears. “What is that noi-” He poked his head into the staff room and watched as you swept the vacuum across the floor. He gently took his hands away then quickly replaced them, wincing in pain at the sheer decibels. It had been a long time since he was exposed to such noise.

All the while, you didn’t notice him standing there, too preoccupied with the task at hand. Some time passed, and Mingi considered shouting your name, but he refrained, not wanting to scare you.

Shortly after, you finally turned the vacuum off, and Mingi was able to remove his hands with a deep, relieved sigh.. which he quickly wished he could take back as his hands flew over his open mouth.

You spun in place and jumped back. “Shit!” you exclaimed.

“I- I am so sorry, please, forgive me-” Mingi brought his hands together in a prayer motion, and you put a hand on your chest just to let your heart calm down. You couldn’t even process that it was Mingi standing there before he spoke again. “I didn’t want to scare you, though I appreciate that I’ve done exactly that.”

Once your heart had calmed down enough for you to partake in conversation, you leaned the vacuum up against the wall and sighed. “When did you come in?”

“Mere seconds ago. A split second before you turned your..” He studied the contraption behind you with only a fraction of recognition. “Um..?”

“Oh- the vacuum cleaner?” You gestured to it, and he looked at you in shock. “Oh, yeah, um, a lot of these things don’t have cables anymore.”

“That’s a vacuum cleaner?” He pointed at it warily, suspicious of the veracity of your statement. You confirmed his suspicions, then it hit you square in the face that Mingi was.. back.

Mingi was back!

“..You’re here.”

Mingi dropped the subject once you said those words. He smiled at you and nodded. “Yes. I’m here.”

You put the vacuum back in the cupboard and walked over to him. “I didn’t think you would show.”

Mingi flexed a brow in bewilderment. “You didn’t?”

“Well.. I mean, what you said last year makes sense now. It truly isn’t every day. And ‘we’ll see’? You basically told me there and then that you might not come back. I wasn’t expecting you to..”

Placing his hands behind his back, Mingi timidly eyed the floor. “Did you hope that I would?”

You scoffed a laugh and scratched the nape of your neck. “I mean- I- Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” you asked.

Your phrasing of the question made a distinct blush form on his cheekbones. “I’m glad to see you again too, N.”

The corners of your lips tilted upwards. The sun had long since set through the gaps in the blinds, and Mingi noticed that the streetlights were flooding the pavements in a golden hue. This caught your attention, and you turned your back. “Oh.” Shifting back to him, you asked, “Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not at all. Though I must admit, I’m glad you turned that machine off.” He poked a pinky finger into his ear and chuckled.

“Ah. I’m sorry, if I had been a few seconds late, I would’ve noticed you. So, are ghosts quite sensitive to noise?” The two of you left the staff room side by side, with you turning the light off before closing the door.

“Variably. I’ve heard that some ghosts can handle frequencies greater than dogs can handle, and others can barely hear above the low rumble of an engine.”

“That’s interesting. Where does your sensitivity lie?” You moved to close the rest of the blinds in the library.

“It leans to the lower end. Anything more than a high-pitched cry and it seriously hurts.”

“Hence the reaction to the vacuum.”

“Hence the reaction, though I should have just made myself invisible again and chosen any other way to reappear to you.”

“At the very least, I now know to be careful when you come by again!”

Pain flashed across Mingi’s face. He wasn’t quite ready to divulge anything yet, though he knew deep down your time together was short. As you were on the other side of the ground floor, you didn’t see him, and it allowed him a few seconds to openly and silently lament this fact as he stared at the poetry section, which had since been shifted to the back wall of the library.

Instead of dwelling on the truth, he decided to ask about the rearranging of the shelves. “I see the poetry section has a new home.”

“Oh! Yes.” You arrived at the poetry section where he was now standing, having closed the last blind, and folded your arms. “We did this about three months ago? Our boss came in and instructed us to move the books around to promote other titles, primarily romance and fantasy fiction.”

“I see. But poetry still gets a lot of love, I presume?”

You chuckled. “Every once in a while. I even read through those collections that you were interested in.”

He locked eyes with you. There was a vulnerability within them that managed to take you aback.

“Did you enjoy them?” he wondered, his voice quiet.

A lump formed in your throat. Do the paranormal know they can wield such power?

“Very much so. I recognised a lot of the poems from my university days, but the one you liked most, The Raven, was completely new to me.” Mingi hid his face; your unabashed display of affection for his favourite works of art proved stifling to behold. “‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary-” Mingi’s eyes shot up. “Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping; As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door; ‘Tis some visitor’, I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more.’”

Silence filled the entire space, so much so the entire world could have fallen still.

You shrugged off your ability to quote a whole verse from memory and smiled meekly at the books on the shelf. “And so on, and so forth..”

Mingi stared at you, distant thrumming in his ribcage at the almost siren-like quality of your rendition.

“N.. That was.. fantastic.”

Your eyes met for a small moment; you swallowed hard. “I was just quoting his poem, ha..”

Mingi couldn’t abide by your lack of awareness. He shuffled forward in an effort to convince you of your leverage, but you moved away before he could even step an inch towards you.

Once again, you distracted yourself with cleaning the shelves.

Mingi simply looked at you, unable to ascertain to what extent you recognised the meaning of your encounter.

On the inside, you were fighting with every fibre of your being to figure out the significance.

The answer initially seemed obvious. He only showed up once, on this very day, and it had only been the year before and now.

But there was clearly something else afoot? The poem, the day, the location. It struck a nerve when you realised you had managed to quote a verse from memory, and you froze in place at the revelation.

The air was heavy between you. You turned back and noticed that Mingi was still looking at you.

Taking a deep breath in, you plucked up the courage to say what had been on your mind for months.

“It seemed too obvious before but.. this day. You’ve only visited on this day..” Mingi turned to face you head on. “Did you.. die on this day?”

With that, Mingi’s body took on a more transparent form.

You cried out, “No!” He held up his hand in reassurance.

“It’s okay. This is the first piece of the puzzle.” Your eyes began to well up with tears. Surely your meetings weren’t over yet, they couldn’t end so quickly. “And at the very least, the other two pieces are slightly more difficult, so I won’t be saying goodbye just yet.”

The words stung, and your chest tightened. You were far from ready to say goodbye to Mingi, the two of you had just met. You had so many more things to learn about one another.

Mingi regarded his transparent form and sighed. “I had no idea how it would manifest, but this doesn’t surprise me.”You shook your head, unable to get the words out. What had you done? Why did you quote that poem?

Covering your mouth, you sobbed loudly and walked away.

“N?” he called after you. “N, please don’t worry.” He followed you to where you were standing by the desks, and placed a hand on your shoulder. The chill made you shudder, and you quickly noticed that his hand didn’t have the same weight as a living human’s would.

He immediately took his hand away and stood in front of you. Your tears were evident, and he frowned at the sight.

“I- The poem-” you stuttered. “What have I done?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He shook his head, reaching his hands out to console you. “N, I promise, you reciting that poem did nothing but fill me with joy. I’ve never seen someone take such an interest that they were able to quote it from memory!” He beamed, and it shone through the translucency of his figure. “Truly, I am the happiest man ever to find a kindred soul.”

You clutched the collar of your shirt and looked at him ardently. The answer was in his eyes; the solutions to these riddles were woven into every inch of his skin. Even as every part of you struggled to work it out, you were hit with the sense that the equations would be too easy, and that frightened you.

Slowly, your hand fell to your side.

“One.. of three puzzles?”

He blinked; transfixed by your gaze, he missed your words entirely. “Hm?”

“You said that was the first part, and there were too more.”

It was his turn to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

Chewing on the insides of your bottom lip, you breathed in, then out. “The day, the poem, the location.”

Tears began to pool around his own eyes. You were learning new things about the paranormal all the while; they still had the capacity to express emotion. “Yes.”

You wanted to stall your problem solving until the very end of these meetings, but you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t work them out at all. Was Mingi on a time limit? Did he need to go to the light before that time ran out?

Your breath hitched. That’s exactly what it was.

But why here? Why now? Why that poem?

..Why you?

Nothing made sense as much as every piece began to fall into place. You were stuck looking at him, hoping desperately for the clues to reveal themselves while wanting them to stay in the shadows forever.

Suddenly, your eyes panned to the clock on the wall. 9pm.

Your shift had come to an end.

Per last time, you only allowed yourself another ninety minutes at the library, and was hoping to do the same again tonight, when your phone buzzed on the reception desk, startling the both of you.

You headed over and picked it up; it was a call from your mother.

“May I take this?” Mingi nodded, recognising the object to be a mobile phone. “Thank you.” You answered, your voice still shaky, as much as you tried to hide this from her. “Uh, hi, Mom..! Yeah, I’m okay. Am I still at the library? Y-Yeah, I, um- Oh. Yeah, I guess I could come round for a little while. I’m, uh-” A big part of you didn’t want to say this, but you knew you had to. You gave Mingi an apologetic look, and he smiled sincerely in return. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up and then I’ll be round. Okay. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. Okay. Okay, bye.”

Once you ended the call, you choked a sob and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. This reaction was equal parts understandable and confusing. It was all too overwhelming; what exactly were you crying for?

Mingi stepped forward. “I suppose you’ll be paying your mother a visit?”

Still teary-eyed, you nodded and said, “I’m sorry for abruptly leaving like this.”

He waved his hand to undo any potential guilt you could be feeling. “There is always next year.”

And no year after that, you couldn’t help but think.

Your departure was abrupt, awkward, and not at all what you imagined for your second encounter with Mingi.

As you reached for the handle, you shed a tear and looked back at him. You couldn’t believe it was over so quickly. “I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.”

Your words warmed Mingi’s heart, and he smiled, trying to hold back tears of his own. “I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.”

You matched his expression. He vanished before your very eyes.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you left the library.

×-×

Another year passed, and in that time, you continued to reveal nothing about Mingi to anyone you knew or met.

In a lot of ways, you felt like this was for you and you alone, with Wooyoung being the only person you ever divulged anything to. A part of you wondered if Wooyoung would ever forget, but every time you saw one another, his eyes would shimmer in a way that let you know he remembered, and that he probably wouldn't forget for a long time.

Maybe you should have kept it firmly under wraps, but there was no time for regret.

The third December rolled around, and that was to be the night that changed everything.

×-×

So much has changed over the past year.

You often questioned whether you could forget such an event; meeting a ghost in person, twice, surely that was something that would stick with you for the rest of your days.

Six months after the second meeting, you had found a new job as an intern for a copywriting company. It was one of the only times you had thought about that second encounter since it happened, and you had honestly felt guilty about leaving the library behind. You felt you owed Mingi something, and that by leaving you were tarnishing something important.

But this was real life! An opportunity fell into your lap when you least expected it, and your colleagues, including Wooyoung, had all given you shining references: you had to take this chance!

Summer in a new job gave you a lease of life you hadn’t felt in a while, and it was refreshing to say the least. Autumn approached before you even had a chance to process it.

The job placed you a great distance from the library, meaning you have to travel a few extra miles just to get to work. It’s thrilling, exciting, new. While you loved your time at the library and everything that came with it, you never once imagine yourself doing anything different, and your old colleagues profusely agree. You still keep up with them, never having the heart to leave the group chat, but between your busy schedule and the extracurricular activities your workplace has you involved in, you’ve never had a chance to go back and see them.

That is, until one fateful day off in December.

You wake up with the express intention of visiting the library today. You hadn’t moved, you still lived in the same place, but since you commuted to work so much and hadn’t seen them in so long, you feel so far away from them all the time.

Your morning routine goes as usual. The library is open until late today anyway, you’ll have plenty of time to see them.

You pick up your phone to check the time, but your eyes zero in on the date.

It’s an oddly familiar one, as though something pertinent happened on this day in the past and yet, you’re struggling to work out what.

Bless your mind for being so flooded with other priorities.

You eat lunch, drink coffee, and decide around 3pm that now is the perfect time to pay them a surprise visit.

The journey to the library is short, perhaps made even shorter by how stoked you are to see your friends again.

Lying dormant in the background is an unsettling feeling that you can’t shake for some reason. You clear your throat. Maybe it’s just the weather.

As you enter the library, you open your arms wide, doubtlessly confusing everyone inside, while your colleagues cheer as quietly as they can and run over to you.

They all whisper variations of the same sentiment of how much they missed you as you pass hugs around the whole group. You pull away after a while and take a good look at the old place. It’s changed so much since you were last there.

Once the library is a bit quieter, they pull you into the staff room for a long awaited catch up, sharing back and forths about the goings on at the library and the copywriting company.

Wooyoung shoots you a look from across the table, and you flex your brow as if to say, everything okay?

He merely looks askance. He knows something that you apparently don’t. Or do you?

As the hours pass by and shifts come to an end, you and your colleagues part ways with more hugs and a promise that you’ll do a proper catch-up soon.

By 7:30pm, it’s only you and Wooyoung.

A strange sense of déjà vu takes over.

Wooyoung busies himself with the computer at reception. The click-clack of the keyboard triggers something in the back of your mind.

It’s the first time you’ve been able to take a good look at the library since you arrived. The shelves are in completely different places. The desks with the computers aren’t even in the same area anymore.

It’s almost completely unrecognisable from six months ago, where before it had only changed a bit.

Wooyoung notices your aimlessly wandering eyes and stops. “You okay?”

Your head snaps to him. You nod, but it’s not confident. “Yeah. You?”

He breathes a laugh and clicks the mouse. “Yeah. I’m just asking because..” He shuffles some papers. “You seem.. distant.”

His remark makes you a little conscious of how your feet are placed. Not that he intended that, but it makes you fold your arms across your chest a little defensively. “Do I? I promise I’m not, ha..”

Wooyoung nods. “Good to know.”

You chew the insides of your bottom lip. Why does everything feel so off all of a sudden?

You saunter over to the reception desk and stand beside him. “So, uh.. Things been pretty normal here, yeah?”

He side-eyes you. “Yeah.. Pretty normal, by all accounts. Why do you ask?”

He goes back to clicking on the keyboard. The sound is as aggravating as it is weirdly comforting.

“Just- I don’t know, do I need a reason to ask?”

Wooyoung halts. “No. No, just.. wondered.”

This conversation is stifling you. Your shoulders freeze and you look straight ahead, like a statue waiting to be carved from the marble.

All you know for sure, is that something isn’t right.

The library is so unrecognisable that it takes you a long time to figure out the familiar. You drum your fingers on the desk repeatedly until a sideways glance from Wooyoung gets you to stop. Why are the two of you so awkward now? What is he not telling you?

The frustration comes to head and you turn to Wooyoung with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, out with it. What are you not telling me?”

Wooyoung flicks a brow, somewhere between bewildered and mischievous. He jokingly says, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten..”

You stare at him, eager to be enlightened and on the brink of snapping. He stares back at you sceptically.

“Wait.. You’re telling me you don’t remember?”

You blink at him. No, clearly not.

He drops his shoulders and looks at you blankly for a second. “You don’t remember Mingi?”

Mingi.. Mingi.. Mingi!

Your eyes widen with shock. What the fuck?

“Mingi.. Holy shit-”

“You actually forgot?” Wooyoung scoffs, incredulous to this news.

You run your hands over your face in regret; you knew something was bothering you. “Jesus- okay, I had a sneaking suspicion there was something familiar about this specific day..”

“Well, you’d be right, wouldn’t ya?” Wooyoung nudges your side and shakes his head. “Lots of stuff’s happened in the past year, it’s honestly no wonder it slipped to the back of your mind.”

You partly cover your mouth with your hand and bite your forefinger. Wooyoung pays no attention as he shuffles more papers on the desk. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, threatening to break free, and you gulp them down like no one’s business.

“But- God, how do you forget something like that?” Your chest grows heavy with unease. Your heart rams into your throat. Sweat begins to form along your hairline. Shallow gasps leave your lips and it’s then that Wooyoung takes notice.

He drops the papers and places a hand on your back. “Hey, calm down, don’t worry..” he says soothingly, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “I’m sure Mingi would understand.” It’s not lost on him how crazy he sounds reassuring his friend about the potential hurt felt by a ghost, but he swallows his pride and focuses on you.

Eventually, you find enough resolve to take a deep breath and straighten your back. “It’s just.. The way we spoke last year-” The conversation begins to flood every inch of your brain. You had promised him more time. I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.

Reality is the wave that crashes the fabric of illusion.

But, Mingi isn’t an illusion. He was- is- a real tangible person, right in front of you. The ghost of a man who was once living and breathing just like you are now. You had never really believed in ghosts, but that was personally dashed for you the moment he revealed himself. You talked, you laughed, you had a conversation about vacuum cleaners for God’s sake!

The memory comes back to you, and you find yourself chuckling through the tears now spilling over your cheeks. “Mingi,” you say, “Mingi, my God, I am so sorry..”

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

What if he feels betrayed?

The thought alone is a knife to the throat.

Wooyoung gently grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “Hey. Deep breath. Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure it isn’t true.”

“I quoted his favourite poem from memory..” you mutter to yourself.

“Hm?”

“His favourite poem by Edgar Allan Poe. The Raven. I quoted the first verse from memory..”

“Huh.” Wooyoung checks the clock. Nearly 8pm.

Slowly, he backs away from you, not taking his eyes off you much as he heads to the poetry section. You barely notice him leave, your arms still outstretched as though he was still there. “Say.. When was-” He tries navigating around the shelves as best as he can while he speaks. “When was the last time you uh-” He almost crashes into a shelf. “Umph- The last time you uhh- read that poem?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “It was some point last year before I saw him again. I haven’t read it again since.”

Wooyoung nods as he reaches the poetry section. He quickly turns his back and scans the shelves - Poe, Poe, Poe.. - then finds the book he’s searching for with a triumphant ah! Taking it out, he flips to the right page and says, “Okay. Try and recite it again for me.”

“What?” You finally register the space in front of you, and your eyes begin to dart all over the place. “Wooyoung?”

“Over here!” He waves his hand in the air, and you spot him. “Recite the first part of The Raven for me!”

You bite your bottom lip, then shut your eyes tight, desperately trying to remember the poem. “Um- Hold on..”

Wooyoung mumbles to himself, “Come on, N, you got this..”

With your eyes still closed, you recite the first verse. Slowly but surely, like slotting the pieces of a puzzle back together after they’ve come undone.

Once you reach the end of the first verse, Wooyoung smiles. “That’s it, keep going.”

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December.. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.. Eagerly I wished-” Your mind goes blank. Then, “..the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow; From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore.”

The clock strikes eight, and a blinding light shines through the ground floor of the library.

Once the light fades, both you and Wooyoung open your eyes.

Mingi stands a few feet in front of you.

Before you can even think, you take off and run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace that even you yourself are surprised by. Mingi grunts, then registers the gesture and smiles, putting his arms around you. Wooyoung watches, mouth agape in shock.

“Mingi..” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I left you behind.”

Mingi nestles his chin into your shoulder. “Never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You pull back and look at him, eyes full of tears that he hesitates to wipe away. He smiles directly at you, full of heart and warmth.

You wonder what you did to receive such an outpour.

Upon looking at him, you notice his translucency, then remember that reciting the poem the first time is what made him so to begin with. You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with both hands.

“Two more puzzles, huh?” you say, lips quivering through the gap in your hands.

He nods his head, tilting it to the side before stuffing his hands in his pockets. You cannot help but think of how likeable he is.

Wooyoung gradually steps out of hiding, the book still in his hands. You turn to him and sigh. “God, I’m sorry, Wooyoung.”

Mingi turns his head. When the two men come face to face, they are equally stunned.

“Um, Mingi, this is my friend and former co-worker, Wooyoung.”

The two men timidly wave at one another, and Wooyoung grips the book in his hands as he realises that he basically just helped summon a ghost.

Wooyoung shrugs a shoulder, “Too late for formalities, I presume?”

Mingi laughs outwardly. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.” Wooyoung smiles.

You run a hand over your face before it goes slack at your side. “Lord, how did this happen?”

Mingi turns back to you. “I’ll say divine intervention, if either of you believe in that.” Neither you nor Wooyoung say anything, allowing the silence to speak for itself.

Wooyoung suddenly remembers that the front door isn’t locked and tends to that while you and Mingi are left to exchange glances. Every time he looks at you, you turn away, and when he eventually hides his eyes you find yourself gazing back at him.

Never able to hold eye contact for too long, you make a point of crossing over to the other side of the room to start closing the blinds. Wooyoung notices and holds up a hand. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks in jest. “Leave that to me, you have unfinished business,” he mutters into your ear.

“Unfinished business?” you whisper in disbelief, though the embarrassment is creeping up the back of your neck.

“Mhm, now shoo.” Wooyoung virtually pushes you away, dismissing you forthwith to return to the matter at hand.

The matter in question being Mingi’s ever fixated gaze on your person and his entire reason for coming back.

Arms folded, you saunter over to him, caught under his watchful eye like an ant beneath a microscope. “I’m kind of amazed you came back.”

Mingi puts his hands in his pockets for want of anything to keep them occupied. “Should it be so surprising?”

You shrug. “I mean.. I left. I almost completely forgot you existed, just- How do you not hate me at this point?”

The air between you is rich with desire to delay the inevitable. Mingi closes the distance between you and sighs. “Like I said, never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You had heard him the first time, and yet it takes a repeat for you to fully register his words. Your pupils dilate and your face grows stiff. Somehow, you understand exactly what he means despite the cryptic nature. “And you don’t judge me for that?”

“Real life is a mean thing to contend with at the best of times. I hold no ill will towards you for focusing on the reality in your hands above the spectre you had two conversations with.”

The frank statement is a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Had you not gathered what remained of your resolve, you might have crumbled at the weight.

“I still feel I should apologise. I promised I would make time for you and-”

“You’re staying true to your promise, are you not?” He lifts a brow inquisitively.

You pause. You’re standing in the library, Mingi is right in front of you, Wooyoung has since finished his task and is busy tidying the ground floor.. You suppose you are holding true to your promise, despite the uncanny circumstances that led back to this full circle moment.

Mingi understands your dilemma and nods. “It’s not exactly how you envisioned it going, I get that. But, you’re here, I’m here, and we even have a third party,” he says, indicating Wooyoung, who by now is standing next to the history shelf. Wooyoung gives a half-smile and a small wave, then goes back to minding his own business, encouraging you to pretend he’s not even there.

It makes you chuckle, all of this. It’s certainly not what you had planned, and you know you only have a limited amount of time left, but you would rather have this than nothing at all.

“So,” you begin, bringing both yours and Mingi’s attention back to the present moment, “we’ve already covered the significance of the day.” You eye the place. “But I feel like there’s something with this location..”

Mingi’s eyes light up. “You’re there.”

You turn back to him. “This location is important, huh?” Mingi nods, newly excited. “I figured as such, typically souls who have passed away near a certain place will be bound to that general area.”

“It sounds cliché, I know, but it is true. The paranormal have ways of travelling, but it’s not very common. Typically they prefer to stay exactly where they are.”

“Are there any limitations?” you wonder aloud.

“None that I can parse, though I’ve heard that it can be very taxing to travel far and wide.”

“Sounds like me with jet-lag,” remarks Wooyoung. The two of you look at him, and he zips his lip and goes back to cleaning.

You and Mingi face one another again, you playfully rolling your eyes at his comment.

Then, in the few seconds that follow, your eyes look through Mingi and towards the history shelf, where Wooyoung is rearranging the books.

“Um, Wooyoung?” You pass Mingi as Wooyoung turns his head. “Are there any local history books on that shelf?”

“Uhh, local history, local history..” He mutters it repeatedly until he comes across one book on the subject. “Ah! Got one here.” He takes it out and hands it to you with a grin. You thank him and take it over to a nearby table. Mingi follows you; you pull a chair out for him and he sits down very gently and appreciatively, adjusting himself to the feeling of being seated.

Laying the book down on the table, you start flicking through slowly, allowing Mingi the opportunity to chime in when he sees something he recognises.

Eventually, he calls out, “Stop!”

You halt on a double page spread.

Song and Co. 1952 - 1968

“That’s it..” Mingi slumps against the chair in shock. “That’s my parents’ old business.”

Your eyes scan the page, first looking at the black and white photos before turning to the words. Wooyoung walks over, intrigued by the discovery.

One delightful autumn, a family business opened its doors for the first time. Along the local high street, residents of the nearby town delighted in the trinkets made by the young married couple who owned the business. They became the bestseller of gifts during the holiday season, as well as for multiple occasions throughout the year.

Mingi leans forward, letting his finger hover above the page as he attempts to find any mention of himself.

You sit back in the chair, then turn to look up at Wooyoung, who glances back down at you sympathetically.

After a few seconds, Mingi says, “There.”

Your head snaps back to the page, and you follow his finger to a passage that talks about him. As you read, your eyes brim with tears.

While their eldest son had left to pursue other ambitions, their younger son, Mingi, had plans to inherit the business from his parents. Unfortunately, Mingi passed away in the December of 1968, an untimely death, prompting the couple to close down their family business for good. The couple have never revealed the cause of death, though some speculated it to be a vehicular accident caused by an intoxicated driver, just five minutes from where the business sat.

“Oh my God..” You notice Mingi looking at you in your peripheral vision, equally tearful at the sight of your hurt.

It takes a few seconds for you to have the courage to look at him, but when you do, you have to hold back a sob from breaking through. Wooyoung disappears into the background, a solemn expression on his face as he hangs his head low.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper through the crack in your lips.

Mingi smiles dejectedly, and it breaks your heart even more. “No need to apologise.” He wants to reach out and hold your hand, but refrains. “My parents didn’t want anyone knowing. I was here, well, technically, in the aftermath of the accident. Watching them close the book on this chapter was heartbreaking. Even worse that I couldn’t do anything to console them. My mother believed in it, but my father didn’t. It would have caused a bigger rift, and they had to stay together.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Jesus.. So-” You hold your tongue on asking this question; the dormant feelings of guilt at being so curious rear their ugly head, and you stare at your hands in your lap instead.

Mingi notices, and this time, reaches forward to take your hand. The chill startles you, but not as much as how light his grip is. With a deep, relaxed sigh, he says, “You can ask now.”

You look up at him. Your teeth begin to chatter and your lips start shivering. “W-Wait- You- You mean-”

He nods. “You can ask. I mean it.”

And he does mean it. The tension is heavy, so dense it rips the oxygen from your lungs.

A breath escapes you, shuddering in its attempt to crawl back into your system. You gulp. “Were the speculations true? Is that how you died?” Mingi hardens his gaze. The pieces fit together.

Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?

“The streetlights outside the staffroom. That’s roughly where you died.”

Mingi sheds a tear. Light passes through him with more fervour as he takes a more transparent form. Wooyoung’s jaw drops.

You cry out, “You should have told me to close the blinds..!”

To your surprise, Mingi chuckles, holding onto your hand much tighter than before. “I was okay, you don’t need to worry about that.”

You push the sleeve of your free arm over your hand and use the cuff to wipe the tears from your eyes. The words won’t come to you.

Wooyoung steps forward and takes the book away, before closing it and putting it back on the shelf so neither of you have to look at it anymore.

You stare down at Mingi’s hand in yours and tighten your grip, for all the difference it makes.

The strength of your grasp doesn’t fully translate, but Mingi sees it in the way your hand muscles pull taut; he closes his eyes, and for a brief moment it’s like he’s alive again, breathing in the air and letting it fill his lungs.

As long as he is with you, holding your hand and experiencing life through your eyes, he can keep up his side of the promise.

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

“Tell me,” Mingi says all of a sudden, snapping you out of your thoughts, “how have things been at your new job?”

You talk for what feels like hours. His form is hazy against the harsh daylight bulbs that fill the ceiling of the library. Ultimately, you’re surprised to actually see not just a ghost, but a transparent one, as so many pieces of art have depicted them. His voice is much farther away and has a certain reverb to it, now that he is effectively one step away from entering what you assume to be the light, but you push that thought to the back of your mind for now.

Mingi laughs at every funny story you tell and delights in hearing about your writing endeavours. You tell him about how you’ve taken up poetry writing in the last few months, as well as learning to get better at baking. Wooyoung tuts playfully, no doubt envious of the treats your new co-workers get to enjoy. You promise him you’ll bring some for everyone at the library soon.

“I wish I could partake in this luxury,” Mingi laments. 

His words strike a chord and you suddenly feel quite melancholy. “Oh, I suspected ghosts couldn’t eat.”

“And you’d be correct, but strangely I haven’t lost my sense of taste.” Both you and Wooyoung lift a brow in shock. “I know! It’s an odd feeling because I still have all of my senses and yet they’re not as strong due to my spectral state.”

“Are they much weaker when you’re invisible?” asks Wooyoung. Mingi nods. “Wow.. Sorry, that’s just so fascinating.”

“I agree. I’ve had to learn a lot since entering this state of being.

You smile at the two of them before standing up to stretch your legs. A comfortable silence befalls the library as you find yourself gravitating towards the poetry section once again.

The day, the location, the poem..

The poem.

Everything comes back to that poem.

You find the same book that Wooyoung had read from earlier and pull it out. Flicking through, you find The Raven.

Immediately, Mingi launches himself off the chair and pushes through an invisible force field to get to you.

“N-” he blurts hesitantly.

“Oh-” You turn, and instantly shut the book seeing the panic on his face. “No! I was just looking, it’s okay.” He places a hand on his chest, mimicking the gesture many alive would do when alarmed. You inch closer to him, putting the book down so as to not cause further worry. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright, I just- Whew-” he says coolly, though there’s a hidden layer of distress in his tone. “Not trying to let me go already, are you?” He smiles through the unrest in his expression. His eyes are physically hollow, and yet the fear is evident within them.

Let me go.

Of course the poem is the answer, but how?

You need to know, you need to find out and yet Mingi’s very presence is the reason why you’d never want to.

The lights shimmer through his vacant body and your breath hitches.

And yet.

You shake your head sincerely and say, “No. Of course not.” Not that I’d ever want to.

Mingi takes a deep breath and it somehow courses through you.

With a heavy heart, you tell him, “But I will have to.. won’t I?”

He gazes up at you, and his vacant eyes still manage to glisten with tears. He regretfully nods and mutters, “It is true. It’s inevitable. I think I’m trying to ignore it myself, as much as I know that I can’t.”

You let a tear shed before speaking up to grab Wooyoung’s attention. “Wooyoung? What time is it?”

Wooyoung checks the clock. “It’s coming up to half past 9.”

Time is gradually running out. If your suspicions are correct, Mingi has until midnight to cross over into the light.

You’re reluctant to ask what would happen if you don’t figure The Raven puzzle out before that time, but you need to quash that curiosity all the same. “So, say I didn’t figure it out, say time ran out, or ran away from us..” Mingi fixes you an impenetrable stare. “What would happen?”

Turning his back, Mingi walks over to his chair and sits down again. “I’d be stuck in a liminal space forever so to speak. I wouldn’t be able to visit you ever again, nor would I be able to go to the light. A purgatory of sorts, but for spectres.”

Your muscles cramp in the most uncomfortable way; every muscle goes numb, and your limbs turn to jelly.

Wooyoung goes to speak, but manages to utter one syllable before clamping his lips shut and refusing to say more.

You eye the book in your peripheral vision. You don’t want Mingi to leave, and yet it would be selfish for you to send him to such a fate.

You sense that you’re not alone in this sentiment, as Mingi shifts around in his chair and looks up at you. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not particularly looking forward to the goodbye myself.”

Shutting your eyes, you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale. Why, God why, was I put in this position?

A thought then emerges in the back of your mind, and it nearly makes you collapse.

No, no surely not..

It had been swimming around in the rivers of your mind since he returned, since you relayed the first two verses from memory, since the recitation was the thing that summoned Mingi..

You dare not even have the thought, lest it be the thing that pulls Mingi away immediately, but it comes and goes, ephemeral as all thoughts are, and Mingi still remains.

Am I the raven?

It makes no sense at first blush. You pace around the shelves for want of anything to do than look at Mingi or see the perpetual look of melancholy on Wooyoung’s face as he observes everything going on around him.

It gives you enough of a distraction to hide among the shelves and break down in tears.

You couldn’t be the raven, surely.

The entire poem flashed in your mind, as though preserved on a canvas for your eyes only, and you silently read through the entire thing, top to bottom, back to front, trying to decipher how you could be the raven when Mingi was the one visiting you.

Is Mingi the raven?

How did that make sense? In the poem, the raven visits the narrator, and initially confused by its presence, the narrator asks him its name, but the raven only gives one response: nevermore.

But the narrator was trying to forget. The narrator was trying to move on from something. What exactly were you trying to move on from that would make that logic work?

The timing makes sense: the poem is set in December, which is the only month that Mingi has ever visited you.

The words have burrowed their way into your brain so much so you can’t forget a single one now. If Mingi asked you to read the whole poem you could, but something tells you that’s another part of the puzzle.

The minute you turned to the poem, Mingi freaked out. Could reading the poem in its entirety be the key?

There’s something hidden that you’ve missed, something you’d only be able to figure out by seeing the words on the page.

Emerging from the shelves, you see a concerned Mingi standing before you. “I heard your cries, are you okay?”

You wipe the remainder of your tears and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, totally fine,” you reply, unconvincingly. Mingi’s chest rises and falls. You go to gently lift the book off the shelf, and Mingi almost reaches his hand out in protest. “Don’t panic..! I just need to see the words on the page. I need to read them again. Something’s bothering me, and I need to figure it out. Can I do this?” Your fingertips brush the spine of the book. Mingi swallows, then eventually nods. Watching you pick up the book is like a tiny electric shock to the heart, but he dampens it instantly, trusting you to keep to your word and not throw him out the door so soon.

You take the book and open it to the correct page. The spine sits in the palm of your hand as you trace along each and every line with your finger.

But the Raven, sitting only on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther than he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

You read this one stanza over and over again, hoping that something clicks in your mind.

“Curious volume of forgotten lore..” you mutter beneath your breath. Mingi stills, praying deep down that you haven’t figured it out, that this isn’t goodbye..

You glance up at him. He pleads through his eyes and it takes every bit of courage not to spill the answer from your lips.

At that moment, you look through and see Wooyoung sitting at the table. Wooyoung, who is looking directly at you at this precise moment.

The need to forget and the desire to remember.

Wooyoung had helped you summon him.

Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.

Mingi is a writer.

I hope we can spend that time together in earnest.

Your legs almost give way. You are Lenore.

The book falls out of your hands and you stumble back towards the shelves. “No..” you mumble. “No!” you shout this time.

Mingi steps forward and reaches out to you, “N..”

Wooyoung then stands up. “N?”

“This can’t be.” You stare at Mingi. Your eyes are made of pure glass.

It’s then that Mingi realises.

“You’ve figured it out.”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide. “You have?”

Hands trembling, fingers shaking, you lift your arm and point towards the two of them. “This can’t be happening..”

Wooyoung closes the distance, “N..”

“No, you can’t do this to me!”

Speechless, Wooyoung backtracks, defensively putting his hands in the air. “What the fuck is going on?”

You gasp for air as Mingi comes to place both hands on your shoulders. “M-Mingi.. I’m sorry..”

“No, N, it’s okay,” he says with a smile through a face stained with tears. “I’m actually so proud of you..”

“Wooyoung..” you whisper.

“I’m here, I’m he- fucking hell!”

Behind you, a blazing white light shines, causing Wooyoung to cover his eyes and turn around. You reflexively close your eyes and fall into Mingi’s arms, and he wraps himself around you in a tight embrace.

“I’ll never forget, Lenore..”

“Lenore?” shrieks Wooyoung. “If you’re Lenore, then who’s-” He stops short and uncovers his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

As you hug Mingi, your eyes travel to Wooyoung’s inert form. “You’re the Raven.”Wooyoung stares down at his hands. He turns around, the light no longer causing an issue for him, not that he would care anyway. “N.. N, I didn’t realise..”

“It’s okay..” You pull away from Mingi to hug Wooyoung. He returns the hug, chin placed on your shoulder as his eyes brim with tears. “It’s okay.. I’ve only just figured it out. Neither of us knew.” Those words are for him and him alone, and you feel his body go slack in your arms as he hugs you.

Mingi watches you both. He smiles, content, and says, “It’s been so nice to meet you both.”

Wooyoung finally detaches himself from you, standing back to give you and Mingi enough space to say goodbye properly.

The light emanates a warmth you’ve never felt before; it’s not the heat of summer, nor the pleasant cosiness of wrapping yourself up in blankets on a cold day. It’s strange and visceral, as though it could burn you with zero effect.

There is so little time to unpack how you are the Lenore to the scholar that is Mingi. You surmise it showed in the ways he would hold your hand to comfort you, or his smile when you conveyed excitement at his return, or the comfort he brought when you felt guilty at leaving him behind, to which he said that you never did.

There isn’t a single word that could describe the outcome of your three meetings, or what it could have potentially meant had you had more time. It’s not something you’re at wits to think about right now, and it’s not something you’d really want explained anyway.

There’s solace in the idea that whatever it was, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

Wooyoung eyes Mingi from afar. Mingi looks past you and at him. “Please, feel no shame that this is how things came to be. You weren’t aware of your place, and I feel no ill that you are the Raven in my story.”

Wooyoung’s eyes soften. “Are you sure?”

“For one, I can tell you are not the evil Poe had described. In fact, merely the opposite. You took a far gentler approach, and for that I am grateful.”

Wooyoung nods. “The need to forget and the desire to remember,” he says, pensively.

Your eyes go wide. Mingi repeats his gesture. “You helped me with that, and so I thank you wholeheartedly. Not of Plutonian shore, nor a fiend,” he chuckles lightly. Wooyoung joins him in this, before lifting his chin and pushing his chest outward - like a bird.

Mingi smiles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you turn to embrace Mingi once more.

Into his ear, you whisper, “And you lore shall not be forgotten..”

Mingi holds you close. He turns to Wooyoung. “Will my lore be forgotten?”

Wooyoung relaxes his shoulders. “Nevermore.”

×-×

The plaque had been a joint venture, and a collaborative effort.

Once you and Wooyoung had shown the colleagues the story of Song & Co., they all agreed that there should be a plaque commemorating the family business, placed just outside the library, next to the entrance.

Wooyoung had since left the library, deciding to move on to the next chapter in his life.

Every so often, the two of you meet up, just to see the plaque.

On one such occasion, Wooyoung is already standing outside the library when you arrive in your car.

Once you’re by his side, you both take a deep breath.

It’s been a whole nother year.

“Crazy how time flies, huh?” says Wooyoung, his voice quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah.. I think about it all the time.”

Wooyoung nods. “Not a day goes by that I don't think about it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. Eventually, you turn your head to look at him.

He notices, and softly turns his head to look back at you.

You share a smile with him, then ask a question that has been on your mind since the event. “Did you remember that word from the poem, or was it just instinct?”

The answer is easy. “Both.”

Your smile becomes a smirk. “I thought so.”

You both glance back at the plaque. Encased in a gold frame and printed on pale blue paper, the sign stands out, ensuring that the history of the location is preserved forever.

For the first time ever, it seems, you seriously focus on the words themselves.

Here, in the present location of this library, stood a family business - Song & Co. -  that opened in 1952 and closed its doors in 1968, following the unfortunate death of the heir, the couple’s youngest son, Song Mingi. Inside the library, we have placed a local history book on display, where on pages 46 and 47, you can read up on the history of this business, as well as the family that owned it for 14 years.

Beneath the text is a picture of the business, as well as the family, dated 1966.

You smile. Wooyoung wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

Nevermore.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[gryffneedsabreak]

thank you for tagging me @noeverse❤️

are you named after anyone? not as far as i'm aware

when was the last time you cried? yesterday lol

do you have kids? no

what sport do you/have you played? none, though i was really into downhill skiing at some point. unfortunately it was too expensive to ever really pick up for real :(((((

do you use sarcasm? yeah

what's the first thing you notice about someone? probably the way they talk? like accent/dialect and word choices. idk though i'm not really very observant lol

what's your eye colour? grayish blue

scary movies or happy endings? both work for me

any talents? i can pick up computer skills quite fast. i'm also good at remembering things from the media i consume, like character names, history and lore, etc...

where were you born? southern finland

what are your hobbies? video games, photoshop, reading, writing, history

how tall are you? 159cm (5'2")

dream job? author and/or small town librarian

tagging; @arrows-unofficial-ocs and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

[skyriderwednesday]

Untitled Penguin Fic - Chapter One

“Well the good news is it appears that in his mind he is still Lord Vetinari,” Ponder said. “Unfortunately, however, he is of course Lord Vetinari.” -- It’s a lovely day in Ankh-Morpork, and Lord Vetinari has been turned into a penguin. Fortunately for the wizards, he still believes himself to be Lord Vetinari. Unfortunately for everybody else, and Drumknott in particular, he still believes himself to be Lord Vetinari. It’s going to be a difficult few days...

(G Rated, 4436 words)

Chapter Two - Chapter Three & Epilogue

It was at this point tradition that at least once a month, a card with the university’s seal on it would find its way to Vetinari’s desk inviting him to the demonstration of some development or innovation. Typically this would be politely declined with a correspondence card of his own, delicately noting that he had never known magic to advance so fast and he would of course be interested to hear of the results but unfortunately the invitation overlapped with a very important meeting that couldn't possibly be cancelled or postponed - then inevitably shortly after the stated time the next day, there would be a bright flash of light and all of the city’s trees would be transformed into cactuses, and the pigeons were suddenly purple, and several hours later Vetinari’s desk would be piled high with reports of student wizards running about performing counterspells, and the requested follow-up on the demonstration's result would mysteriously fail to appear. This occasion would have been no different, had there not been an additional note from the Archchancellor pinned to the type-set card, and had Drumknott not been able to find anything for it to conflict with. ‘Look, old chap,’ the note had said in so many words, ‘you only have to show up once, and they won’t ask you again. Besides, this one has been going very well, and it’s something like the sixth iteration of the same idea -- they’re sure to have ironed the kinks out by now.’ As such, Drumknott was hovering anxiously as Vetinari buttoned his coat. “I do not understand your insistence at dwelling upon worst-case scenarios,” he said to him. “It is simply unrealistic for catastrophic failure to occur every time.” “But, my lord, the wizards--” “Mr Drumknott,” Vetinari said sternly, “for as often as their insufferable bravado outweighs the evidence of their effectiveness, the wizards do in fact know what it is that they are doing. They very well understand the dangers of magic and the steps necessary to contain it. No one, to pluck a wildly improbable scenario out of the ether, is going to be transfigured into a penguin, and if they are it will be quite swiftly put to rights. Now, do I have to order you to put on your coat?” “No, sir…” Drumknott replied quietly. “Good,” Vetinari said, emptying his pockets of the various debris and detritus from previous outings. “We should not be at the university too long. If you require genuine incentive, I suppose that we could visit the tearooms afterwards?” Drumknott paused in trying to convince the lining of his coat sleeve to behave itself and nodded. “I would like that, sir.” “Splendid, we shall add that to our agenda then.” As Vetinari waited for Rufus to finish putting on his coat, Wuffles waddled up to him and dropped a toy on his foot. “Oh I am sorry,” he said, picking Wuffles up, “we’re going out.” Wuffles’s ears drooped and he whined plaintively. “I promise you we shan’t be long, and I will play when we return. Is that all right with you?” “Wuff,” he licked Vetinari’s chin. “Good dog. I will give you a biscuit and then you will go back to your basket, yes?” “Wuff!” “Very good dog, excellent dog in fact. I assume you would like a red one?” “Wuff!” Drumknott cleared his throat, “Sir…” Vetinari’s eyes appeared over the desk. “Mr Drumknott, you will have your biscuit at the tearooms.” Drumknott sighed patiently. “Sir, I mean to say that the carriage is waiting.” “Of course you do,” Vetinari said, slipping Wuffles a second biscuit as he stood up.

They did not speak much on the way. In fact, other than confirming details of upcoming engagements, Drumknott hardly spoke ten words. As the carriage came to a stop outside the university, there was a small congregation of wizards awaiting them. “Havelock!” Ridcully boomed joyfully as Vetinari stepped down from the carriage, “Great to see you, man!” “Good morning Archchancellor,” Vetinari replied with a calm smile, “likewise. Is that a new robe you’re wearing?” “Oh, this old thing? No, found it in the wardrobe. That is a new coat you’ve got on though.” Vetinari tilted his head, conceding. “Since we saw each other last, yes.” Beside the Archchancellor, buried in a scarf to the point of overdoing it in the current weather, Ponder cleared his throat. Ridcully remembered he was there. “Of course, you’ve met Stibbons, haven’t you?” “I have,” Vetinari said, nodding in place of the handshake neither of them was offering. “I’m looking forward to this demonstration. I understand the development to this point has been going well.” Ponder stuttered nervously, “Yes, my lord. Touch wood, sir.” Ridcully glanced at him, pulling a face at the superstition. His gaze turned to Drumknott, who had been silently tracing the flagstones at Vetinari’s side. “And how are you, lad?” Rufus caught his breath, “Uh... well, Archchancellor.” “Good, good,” Ridcully drew himself up. “We’ll go inside then, shall we?”

There was a colossal elaborate casting circle drawn on the floor of the Great Hall, and chairs arranged around it. The biggest chairs were placed in a position Rufus privately regarded as precarious.  “Of course, you’ll want the best view, old chap!” Ridcully said, and received a look reminding him that the last person to touch Vetinari without permission had ended up on the floor. “You are quite certain this poses no danger, aren’t you Mustrum?” “Obviously!” Ridcully said, sitting in his own chair, “Stibbons has it all figured out -- don’t you boy?” He barked the last part loudly at Ponder. Ponder, providing last minute instruction and adjustment to the students positioned around the circle, laughed a little nervously. “Of course, sir!” Vetinari’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he sat beside the Archchancellor, gesturing subtly to Drumknott to pull his chair back a little. Rufus swallowed anxiously and twisted his fingers in his lap as Ponder tidied himself a little, straightened his hat and stepped forward to speak to the assembled crowd. “Hello everyone,” he started, “Archchancellor, my lord,” he nodded to Ridcully and Vetinari. “I’m sure you all know why you’re here and what we’re doing, but I’ll give a short explanation to be sure…” Drumknott mostly stopped listening, transfixed by the careful way Ponder was positioning his feet to avoid stepping on or smudging the lines of the circle as he slowly orbited during his explanation. He caught the words quantum, positioning, thaumic, visualisation… but he couldn’t make out what was going to happen when Ponder gave the go ahead to begin. Across the circle, the Librarian was picking his nose. There was a brief round of applause, which Rufus joined a second late. “Thank you,” Ponder said, bowing shortly and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Alright,” he turned to address the students, still not disturbing the circle. “You know what to do, lads, we’ve done it enough at this point!” A few of the wizards further from the circle laughed, but Drumknott wasn’t sure why. With that, the incantations began. The atmosphere changed, there was a hum building in the air. Particles and flashes of light started to come into view, shapes formed. Rufus watched, there were impressed murmurs behind and around him. “Holding steady! Onto phase two!” He heard Ponder call. The tension in the Archchancellor’s shoulders was starting to relax, and then--

The smoke cleared, leaving all observers plastered in a layer of blue glitter. Peeling his encrusted glasses from his face and spitting out glitter, Ponder stumbled out of what remained of the casting circle. A few of the graduates involved were groaning and cursing, likely more of them no longer had eyebrows… of all the times for it to go wrong, after it hadn’t failed once in testing. He should have known it was too good to be true. Ponder squinted around the hall at the observers. Some had scattered backwards and avoided the worst of it. Others were sitting stunned, caked in a layer of glitter at least half an inch thick. The Librarian was descending from the rafters, his orange fur sparkling. He couldn’t tell which point in the circle had been breached first, where the concentration had been highest. He had a horrible feeling it was right in front of the Archchancellor. He was, what was the expression the alchemists used? Oh right, so godsdamn fired. Ponder found the only part of his robe that wasn't covered in glitter (ugh, it had made it into his pockets…) and delicately scraped the glitter off his glasses. He peered gingerly through them. To his relief, the Archchancellor seemed entirely unharmed, and he was laughing -- coated thickly in glitter, which had settled in great drifts over his knees and hat, but laughing. “Well that was a bloody great bang, Stibbons,” Ridcully said, cheerfully shaking glitter from his beard, “but no real harm d-- oh. Are you alright, old chap?” “Whek,” said the penguin in the next chair.  The penguin. In the next chair. Beside the Archchancellor. It had extremely pale blue eyes. Oh no. The patrician had been turned into a penguin. “Whek,” the penguin-- Vetinari said again. “Oh yes, glitter’s beastly stuff,” Ridcully said, “it’ll take weeks to clean up properly.” “Whek,” Vetinari said more pressingly, the noise translating to furious threats of taxation. “Ook…” said the Librarian, wading elbow deep through the glitter. He peered at Vetinari, a curious orangutan examining an outraged emperor penguin. “Whek!” The patrician shouted, flapping his wings. The Librarian backed off sharply, not wishing to receive a beak to the eye or an uncoordinated flipper in his ear. “Ook…” he said up to Ponder. “Yes!” He exclaimed, breaking out of his shock, “Terribly sorry, my lord, I have no idea what happened there! Uh…” Ponder looked frantically at Ridcully for what to say or do next. He stood up in an avalanche of glitter which buried Ponder’s shoes. “Just a small magical surge! Must have overloaded the circle,” Ridcully chuckled. “Happens all the time, almost entirely unpredictable--” he shot a look at Ponder, who did his best not to whimper, “but it’s a quick fix, I’m sure!” The Librarian looked at him skeptically and sneezed glitter. “Er, aha…” Ridcully looked around, glitter cascading from his eyebrows. “Where is it your young man’s got to?” Ponder squinted, the chair next to the patrician’s had been toppled over and buried in glitter. The Librarian shuffled into the surrounding drift and, after poking for a moment, excavated Drumknott. “Ah, there he is,” Ridcully said. “I can’t find my glasses?” Rufus said blearily, choking on glitter as he was pulled into a sitting position. The Librarian patted his back with one leathery hand and fished with the other. Ponder winced as he bent a twisted hinge back into place and used his knuckle to scrape glitter from the lenses. The glasses were lopsided as the Librarian pushed them back onto Drumknott’s nose. He looked about himself, at the glitter, the toppled chairs and ruptured circle… the archchancellor, the Librarian, Ponder… the visual lack of his lordship… his eyes widened in panic. He started to stand up. “My… lord…?” “It’s alright!” Ponder said quickly, trying to block Vetinari from view. “Don’t-- Don’t panic!” Predictably, this had the opposite effect. “Why?” Drumknott asked with a frantic stare, “W-what’s happened?” “Nothing!” Ponder felt Ridcully frown behind him, “...well, no, actually-- but it’s fine! Not a problem, just--” “Whek!” Vetinari

said. Drumknott saw him. The blood drained from his face. “Sir?!” Oh, please don’t faint… To Ponder's half-selfish relief, Drumknott remained standing. Even so, he seemed to shut down, his eyes glazing over, staring blankly at the penguin that was now Vetinari. That couldn’t be said to be any better. After a thought process that dislodged several more pounds of glitter, Ridcully spoke up. “Well Havelock, if we get you over to… er, Stibbons’s building we should be able to get you fixed…” Ridcully said. “Do you need help getting--” “Whek!” “No, quite right,” Ridcully shook his fingers, having just added ‘bitten by the patrician’ to his long list of accolades, “you’re a grown bir-- man, you can get down fr-- out of a chair yourself. Mr Stibbons!” “Yes, Archchancellor!” Ponder ran off ahead, tracking glitter as he went. Ridcully gestured vaguely at Drumknott, “Librarian, you get him tidied up a bit then bring him along.” “Ook,” the Librarian said, and pulled on Rufus’s sleeve.

The Librarian’s office smelled of book-binding glue and banana skins. He was a surprisingly dab hand with a clothes brush, and by the time a sugar-saturated cup of tea had been pushed into Rufus’s hands there was barely a speck of glitter to be seen. “Ook?” “What? Oh, no... I’m alright, thank you.” The Librarian sniffed and gathered the pile of glitter into a dustpan. He threw it out of the window and shook off his hands for good measure. “So…” Drumknott's voice wavered, “L-Lord Vetinari has been turned into a penguin?” “Ook,” the Librarian said, turning the clothes brush on himself.  “It w-won’t be permanent, will it?” The ape shook his head and shuffled over to a cupboard. Rufus felt strangely comforted. The Librarian offered him a banana. “Ook?” “Oh, no thank you... the tea is working wonders.” He shrugged and started to eat it himself. “You like being an orangutan, don’t you?” “Ook,” the Librarian said through a mouthful of banana. “I suppose it makes your job easier... longer arms to reach the shelves…” The Librarian nodded. “...penguins don’t have fingers though…” He sat back, waiting for Drumknott to come to conclusions. “...I'm sure it will be all right, though... you all know what you’re doing, don’t you?” The Librarian made a gesture that indicated that he might not necessarily say ‘all’ was accurate, but as far as he was concerned Vetinari was in solid enough hands. Rufus nodded. “Ook?” “Hmm? Yes, I’ve finished my tea. Thank you.” The Librarian piled the cup into a small sink on top of some brushes and offered Drumknott his hand.

They walked out of the library and over to the High Energy Magic building. As they passed the Great Hall, Rufus caught sight of a pack of students with dustpans, orders being yelled at them by an irate woman in a housekeeper's apron. “Oook,” said the Librarian as they entered a room with multiple warnings pinned to the door. “Ah, there you are,” Ponder said. “Good timing actually, we’ve nearly finished.” There was much whirring and spinning going on as multiple components of HEX worked at once. Semi-regularly, though only by a liberal definition of ‘regularly’, there was a ting! followed by frantic scribbling as operations completed and were written out in a form intelligible to humans. There was an apparatus similar to a single-person elevator carriage beside the machine, connected via tubes and cabling at the top. Behind a gate that looked like it was more suited to serve a vegetable patch than a piece of wizarding equipment was Vetinari, still very much a penguin. Currently, he was attempting to lift the latch with his beak. He did not appear to be having much success. “Ook?” the Librarian asked. Ponder laughed nervously. “Well, in terms of examination, done…it turns out this whole, uh…” he gestured vaguely towards Vetinari, “...situation is likely to be just a bit more complicated than we’d assumed.” The Librarian gave Drumknott’s hand a reassuring shake and knuckled out of the room. Ponder gestured to a chair, and turned around to face HEX. After a few minutes of silence only broken by noises of operation and the latch rattling, there was a loud TING! A long stream of scribbling ensued, and HEX lifted its writing arm out of the way with a hiss of pneumatics.  “Thank you,” Ponder said to it, tearing off the sheet of paper and turning back to Rufus. “Well the good news is it appears that in his mind he is still Lord Vetinari,” he said, scanning through the write-out. “That makes it much easier to turn him back. Unfortunately, however, he is of course Lord Vetinari. That’s a lot of mind to fit into the brain of a penguin. We might not have much time to turn him back before, well…” “Before what?” Drumknott asked. “The problem with the human mind being put into animals is that it’s too big. Like cramming anything into a space too small for it, one of two things is going to happen. Either the thing you’re trying to cram in there is going to break, or the space is.” “What does that mean for his lordship?” “There's a few ways it could go. His shape could take over, in which case he’ll become a penguin that’s a bit like Lord Vetinari - and that’s almost the best case scenario. Otherwise his mind wins out, and... well... it won’t be very pretty.” “Why, what would happen?” “Uh,” Ponder shuddered. “If his mind wins, his shape will try to change to match it. It’s very rare, and the pictures are terrible. There’s a few frogs in jars downstairs, and I don’t recommend looking at them.” Rufus tried hard to infer his meaning. “...you mean, the penguin would change to be like his lordship?” “Yes... and it would be a horrible mix of human and penguin, and mercifully the attempt would destroy itself.” Drumknott’s face turned a strange shade of grey. “But it’s alright!” Ponder said quickly, “That won’t happen. We’ll turn him back before it gets to that-- I mean, either of those points. He might... er... waddle for a bit once he’s back to his right shape, and he might like fish a bit more than he used to, but he’ll be fine.” Drumknott nodded reluctantly. “Right, I know neither of you like being here much, and it’ll take us a little while to figure things out to turn him back, so you can go home if you want.” Ponder looked around them. Drumknott followed his gaze. The apparatus set up next to HEX was empty. The gate was open. There was no sign of his lordship. “...you didn’t notice where he’s got to, did you?” “Um... no.”

The typical height of an adult male emperor penguin is somewhere around three feet nine inches. As such, the difference between penguin height and Vetinari height had been rather disorientating. However, it is surprising how fast a penguin can move when it puts its mind to it, and even more surprising when the mind behind its motion does not realise that it is inside of a penguin. Fortunately however, even the most determined human-unknowingly-turned-penguin cannot defeat the fact that on the whole a creature whose knees are to be found somewhere near its ribcage is not very good at using stairs. As such, it did not take Ponder and Drumknott very long at all to locate Vetinari. The students passing him did not seem to think it was strange at all that an emperor penguin was teetering uncertainly atop a staircase. The moment he caught sight of them, Vetinari made a highly disgruntled sounding penguin noise at Drumknott. “There you are my lord,” Ponder said as if he was not speaking to a penguin at all. “It would seem the effects are quite minor, if a tad… complicated. It’ll take us a little while to work out how to reverse them, but you can go home while we figure that out.” “Whek!” Vetinari said. “Yes, sir... your height is quite a change, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to work around I’m sure.” “Whek…” he said darkly. “No, my lord, not ridiculous at all!” Ponder said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “It won’t take us long, I promise.” Drumknott tapped Ponder's shoulder and whispered. “How is it you understand him?” “Oh, I... I don’t,” Ponder replied, “but when you’ve got a colleague who communicates only with ‘ook’, you get very good at understanding what you don’t.”

There was a larger congregation of wizards peering from the door as Ponder walked them out to meet their carriage. Before they left, Ridcully clapped Drumknott on the shoulder, rattling his knees. “Wouldn’t tell his lord about… the beak and tail feathers if I were you, lad,” the Archchancellor said, deliberately muffled by his beard. “It might make him forget his right shape.” Rufus stared at him in alarm. “Might it?” Ridcully shrugged, “Better safe than sorry.” “Alright…” Drumknott said shakily. He looked over his shoulder and cringed as Vetinari attempted to bite the footman. “Ah, my lord--” he said, running over to defuse the situation. “Are you sure you can turn him back?” Ridcully asked Ponder out of the side of his mouth. “Uh… things look good, sir,” Ponder replied, "but it’ll take some work…” “Then get working on it, boy.” “I am, sir.” “Good!”

The carriage ride back to the palace was awkward to say the least. Rufus mostly tried not to look at his lordship. “Whek?” Vetinari said as they passed through the gate. “I’m fine, sir.” “Whek.” It was extremely difficult to figure out just what out of the multitude of things Vetinari could have just said this particular ‘whek’ was supposed to mean. It wasn’t a question, that was clear, but it still required him to say something in return. “Certainly, sir,” Drumknott hazarded. Vetinari gave him a strange look. Before Rufus could attempt to correct himself however, the footman warily opened the door. “Please refrain from biting him this time, my lord…” Vetinari made a kind of disgruntled grumbling sound, but did not try to bite the man as he was assisted from the carriage. He managed fairly well up the outside steps, but it was clear that he wouldn’t fair nearly as well up the grand staircase. The guards peered curiously from their posts as Vetinari attempted a complicated maneuver to get onto the first step.  “Sir,” Drumknott said quietly, “might we use the elevator?” “Whek,” Vetinari said dismissively, trying again to lift his foot to the required height. He toppled over backwards. “Whek...” he said in resignation.

Rufus held his tongue as he helped him up and he waddled towards the lift. Neither of them much liked the elevator. On the whole Vetinari far preferred to be assisted on the stairs than acknowledge it to exist, even as a penguin apparently. He shot the servant attending a silencing look as the man went to question and tried not to spend too much time looking at his lordship as the rising motion of the elevator took the reassurance of gravity out from the bottom of his stomach. He would have to brief the staff, he realised, assure their discretion before rumours of the patrician’s being a penguin could spread. What an effort that would take, and that was without considering delays in correspondence, meetings and appointments… Vetinari could not possibly meet with anyone important in this state. Drumknott offered a silent prayer of thanks that this predicament had occurred the day after the weekly guild meeting. “Whek?” Vetinari asked, noticing his subtle gesture. “I’m fine, sir,” Drumknott said, taking hold of the rail as the porter applied the brake and the elevator came to a stop. “Whek,” Vetinari said in distaste as they exited. Drumknott tuned out the stream of penguin noises that would likely translate to complaints about physics and the mistreatment there of, and a general tirade about how no matter the number of tests and demonstrations carried out, safety devices only needed to fail once, etcetera, etcetera. He made no effort to pay attention when it was spoken in Morporkian, there was no reason to be attentive to it in penguin. Instead he turned his mind to how exactly he was supposed to excuse the sudden clearing of all appointments. Might he say his lordship was ill? That would make sense, and of course people fell ill all the time, but could he say that without affecting Vetinari’s reputation or starting rumours that were more harmful? And if this transformation lasted, if the wizards couldn’t turn him back, if gods forbid Ponder’s worst case scenario came to pass… how would he explain-- “Whek,” Vetinari said, halting his train of thought. They had come to the office door, and he couldn’t operate the handle. “Of course, sir,” Drumknott stepped forward to open it. Vetinari made a small noise he presumed was an expression of gratitude and waddled into the office. Drumknott followed behind him. He would only be called for in moments if he didn’t, even if the circumstance was normal. What was not normal (aside from, of course, that he was following after a penguin) was his instinctual reaction to the raising of a little brown head as they came in. Standing less than a foot at the shoulder, there was no denying that Wuffles was a small dog. Still, that did not change Drumknott’s concern as he approached suspiciously, his hackles raised. “No,” Rufus said sternly. “Wuffles, sit.” Wuffles continued to stalk forward, growling. “Wuffles, basket. Go in your basket.” Wuffles ignored him, snarling, his teeth bared viciously. Vetinari drew himself straight, which didn't change much that he was half his usual height. “Whek,” he said firmly. Wuffles stopped dead in his tracks and sat. He tilted his head in confusion. “Whek,” Vetinari said. Slowly, Wuffles stood again and crept forward cautiously. He sniffed at Vetinari, then drew back. Wuffles yapped in excitement, his tail wagging.  “Whek!” Vetinari flapped his wings in a forward motion. Wuffles bounded around him, herding him towards the desk and nipping at Drumknott’s heels in his fervour. The body language of a penguin could not manage subtlety in the usual manner of Vetinari, and every step he took across the office was distinctly amused. This air of amusement lasted until he rounded the desk. His beak appeared over the top of it. “Whek,” he said, displeased. Ah. He couldn’t get into the chair. “If you will allow me to lift you, sir…” Vetinari made an unimpressed noise but, this time, allowed himself to be lifted without attempting to bite the person doing the lifting. Drumknott put him onto his chair and they stared at each other, neither sure how to

proceed. “Whek?” “I suppose that we should continue as usual until the wizards call for us, sir.” Vetinari gave him a look that indicated what he had just said was complete nonsense again. Drumknott shifted uncomfortably. Outside, the city began to chime the hour. Drumknott's heart dropped. Oh dear. Eleven o’clock. Vimes would arrive at any minute.

[dearmantis]

Written Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Reader

Summary: As the librarian of the Grand Palace library, you're expected to take care of the books, maps, letters and other documents stored there. You don't expect the General of the Second Army to show up randomly and ask you for a book recommendation.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors' Note: Technically this isn't really fem!Reader but there's a part that kind of makes more sense with a fem!Reader which is why it's tagged that way, just fyi. I just want to be safe here and not disappoint anyone. The library is also inspired by the library in my home town which is huge but also very chaotic with shelves standing around everywhere, forming what's basically a big labrinth. It's really cool, honestly. This is also not edited and I'm not a native English speaker.

You smile when your eyes find him, quietly walking through the entrance of the big library, finger gliding along the spines of the many books resting in the shelves as he takes his first steps into the labyrinth of bookcases. He looks at peace here, you think.

On the few occasions where you have seen him outside of your little domain, his muscles had been tense, his jaw clenched and a cold, sharp look on his face, eyes as dark as the fold itself.

But now he looks kind. Kind and sweet and good, even in his dark, scary clothes, his big, heavy boots and bulletproof kefta. He doesn't carry himself as if his whole body is one big weapon anymore. He always takes time to speak with you when he visits, soft spoken and polite as he asks you about your day, the books you read and your work in general.

And other than the other Generals he respects the system after which the books are sorted. He puts everything back where he finds it, brings the materials he borrows back before the due date with no exceptions, and he is quiet, steps always immediately decreasing in volume as soon as he walks through the doors of your library.

Well, it's not your library, technically, but it's close enough. It's not like the king, queen or their children ever made a singular step on the dark wooden floors you sweep twice a day. No, it's just him and the other members of court who visit you.

You don't know why General Kirigan visits though. You've seen the library of the Little Palace on a few different occasions now and it's quite beautiful there. While it's definitely smaller than the library of the Grand Palace you don't think it's lacking in anything.

A part of you is tempted to compare the inventory list of the library in the Little Palace with the borrowing history of the Shadow Summoner, but you can never bring yourself to actually do it. It feels like a violation of his privacy, and what would you even do if you found out that he's borrowing books he could get in his own library here from you? It's not a crime to prefer the Grand Palace library after all, and you do have a much larger variety of books here.

And in the back of your mind there's a quiet voice, whispering that he may be coming here for you, and you fear that the voice will get louder if you choose to compare the lists and find out that he does in fact borrow books from here that he could get in the library of the Little Palace. It's a selfish, foolish thought you shouldn't entertain, but it's also the only explanation that really makes sense. The only clear differences between the Grand Palace library and the Little Palace library is the amount of books and you, and if he's not here for the books-

"Excuse me?" Your gaze finds the eyes of a young servant girl who hesitantly smiles at you. "Could you help me find a book? One of the guests has asked for a copy of Epitome Astronomiae Copernicanae. He says he has unfortunately forgotten his own copy at home and desperately needs it if he's supposed to present his own observations and research at court tomorrow."

Mirroring her smile you nod, opening the folder you use to keep track of all the books, maps and other materials currently outside of the library and placing it on the desk in front of you, before waving your hand to silently ask her to follow you.

Back when you were new here you had a small little map scribbled on a thin piece of paper that you carried everywhere with you, showing where exactly all the categories of books are positioned, but after several years here you know every shelf like the back of your hand. There's not a single book in this gigantic library that you can't locate in thirty seconds maximum, so the little scrap of paper got to retire.

Quickly moving between the many shelves you have to force yourself to slow down a bit to make sure the woman doesn't get lost on the way, waiting a few seconds every time you walk around a new shelf to make sure she can catch up, until the bookcase you're looking for is finally in sight.

You're so deeply focused on finding the book quickly that you don't even notice that someone else is standing two shelves next to this one, your eyes glued to the spines to find the fight title.

"It should be... ah! Here it is." It's a beautiful book, with carefully dyed dark blue leather binding, its title painted on in silver ink. It's so beautiful you could swear that a Fabrikator must've gotten their hands on it at some point in its creation. Slowly pulling it out of its designated place in the shelf you give it to the servant girl.

You're about to walk her back to your desk to fill out the required documents when a voice behind you stops you.

"I'm sorry, could you please help me find a book?"

Whirling around you almost freeze in place when you realise the person who asked for your help is none other than General Kirigan himself, the man himself standing a few metres away from you, spine straight and shoulders stiff in the way you've seen him act outside of the library.

How odd. I thought the library brings him comfort?

"Oh, of course! Uh..." Eyes darting between the General and the Servant for a few seconds, the young woman frees you from your predicament with another kind smile.

"I think I can find my way back to the desk on my own. If I have any trouble filling out the documents myself I will wait for you, alright?"

Nodding quickly you wave as she leaves, before turning back around to the Shadow Summoner, who's now patiently waiting a few steps away from you.

"Alright, General, what can I assist you with? Which book are you looking for?"

His gaze visibly softens, muscles slowly relaxing until he's no longer standing straight like a candle. He finally looks like the version of him you're used to again.

"I'm looking for a novel."

"A novel?" You echo, unable to stop yourself in time. "The novels are in a different corner of the library. What exactly are you looking for?"

He smiles slightly, hand moving to the back of his neck as if he's a bit embarrassed by the answer. "I would like a recommendation from you, actually."

It takes you a few seconds to register what he said. It's quite literally the last thing you expected to hear from the man.

"A recommendation?" you echo quietly, frowning, and watch as he nods.

"You spend all day around these books, and every time I'm here you're reading. I can't imagine anyone else being a better source for book recommendations than you."

To hide the bashful smile sneaking its way onto your lips you turn around, asking him to follow you as you lead him to the other side of the enormous library. This time you don't feel the need to slow down as you walk around the labyrinth of shelves, the General's long legs making sure that he's never far behind you, no matter how quick you are. You already know which book to give him, despite how sure you are that it's not going to agree with his own taste in literature.

When you finally stand in front of the right bookshelf you don't even have to look around to see where the book is, eyes automatically moving to the familiar leather bound object. "I don't think you're the type of person to be interested in this type of stuff, but it is my favorite book, so..." You whisper, more to yourself than to him, carefully pulling the book out of the shelf.

"Oh? Why is that?" the General asks, eyebrows lifting curiously.

You can feel how the apples of your cheeks heat up when you realise that he heard what you said. "Well... uhm. It's just...". It's hard to find the right words, the risk that he's going to take your comment as an insult a bit too big for your comfort. "I don't think you'd enjoy things like silly love stories."

"Silly love stories?" The General sounds scandalised, but there's an amused glimmer in his eyes that calms you down before you get a chance to start panicking.

Humming quietly you nod, holding the book out to the General. "Don't misunderstand me. I think everyone deserves to lose themselves in sweet stories, but you don't seem like the type of person to agree with my mindset. If I had to guess, I would say you're the type of man who thinks all of this soft stuff is just an unwanted distraction from the war."

He purses his lips, eyes focused on the book cover you're still holding out to him, before he carefully reaches out and removes the book from your grasp to open it and read the first page.

"What is it about? I mean, besides the love story. What is the conflict?"

When you take a few seconds to answer him his dark gaze moves to meet yours again, eyebrows slowly lifting as he waits for you to summarise the plot.

"It's, uhm..." Turns out simply recommending someone your favourite book is one thing, while actually having to summarise it to explain why they should read it is an entirely different issue. You're not sure if you can find the right words to explain the plot without sounding like a foolish, overly romantic idiot.

"It's about a servant, Sophie, and a member of the royal court who fall in love." You don't specify that the servant's love interest is technically a General. "So it's mainly about that and the taboo aspect of it, but there's also a whole war going on that is quite important in the majority of the book. It would probably be more accurate to say that it's a political drama with a romance subplot, but I loved the romance so much that it overshadowed everything else in the story for me."

When you finally finish your explanation he has that soft smile on his lips again and a warm feeling starts to become noticeable in your chest.

"Why would I not like a political drama with an outstanding love story subplot?" The shadow summoner asks.

"Well, like I said. I didn't think you would be someone who'd enjoy the love story aspect much, and I think that's what makes this book better than a lot of other political dramas."

The General looks at you for a few seconds, deep in thought, before he closes the book and starts to look through the shelves.

You want to ask him if you can help him find what he's looking for, but he holds his hand up to silence you before you even get the chance to open your mouth, as if he already knows what you were about to say.

"It should be here somewhere..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, a deep frown on his face.

It takes a bit but after a few seconds the serious look on his face turns back into the smile you love, his hand moving to pull one of the books out of the shelf. When he holds it out for you to take there's a boyish glimmer in his eyes, a spark of excitement that you usually see in children, and you wish you could immortalise it somehow, keep it alive in this sad, tragic world. It feels special to see this type of expression on the usually cold and distant face of the Darkling. Like the Saints gave you a special gift, just for you to keep safe and cherish.

Carefully taking the book out of his hands you let your gaze glide over the ink-black leather cover for a few seconds, fingers tracing the silver drawing of a crescent moon on the front, before you open the book and begin to skim the first page.

"This is my favourite love story." he explains before you even get a chance to question why he has given you this book in particular. "This is the story of Andrei and Isolde. Andrei moves around the country, from town to town, to hide the fact that he is an immortal beast, cloaked in the skin of a human. In one of those towns he pretends to be a Prince from a foreign country and meets Isolde, a clever woman who works as a seamstress. He asks her to make him a cloak for the upcoming winter, and during the weeks she spends working on it, she begins to uncover what Andrei truly is."

Your eyes widen a bit, intrigued by the premise. "What is Andrei?"

He laughs lightly, a sound that reminds you of cold nights during the winter, drinking warm tea and reading a nice book. "You will have to read the story to figure that out."

Closing the book again you move to press it tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself in the process to stop yourself from nervously playing with your fingers, trying to force the words out before you end up wasting this glorious opportunity. Your mind is racing but this is a chance, an opening, the possible start of something new.

"How about we read each other's book recommendations and then meet up again to talk about it?" you propose, voice a bit too quiet and anxious for your liking. The General is silent for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and you're suddenly very sure that you have misread his softness towards you. That his kindness has just been simple politeness and he has absolutely no interest in spending time with a servant below his own social standing.

"Like a date?" he asks, and before you can get a chance to give into your fear and backtrack, he nods, the smile on his lips widening into a full grin. "I think I would enjoy that, yes. I will try to keep my schedule free for... let's say next week?"

You can't stop yourself from beaming up at him, the happiness you feel rushing through your body like a wave. "That sounds great. I can't wait to start reading. A love story recommended by you can only be fantastic."

"I hope the book brings you as much joy as it has brought me. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on Andrei."

"And I can't wait to hear what you think of Sophie."