#so. i was hoping to use this new notebook for a novel i’m plotting. but fuck it

[fingertipsmp3]

I don’t want to have to start a whole new journal because of this man but genuinely there’s no other way to get these thoughts out

[da-rulah]

i’m so happy you’re requests are backkk!! and that you’re back safe from your trip!

could i have some copia hc about him having an s/o or crush who LOVES writing, like they have whole shelves of notebooks and everything. would he try to read their stuff? stuff like that!

thank you i hope you’re doing well!

Thank you, lovely! They are for the time being - I'm going to be writing another fic soon so that'll take priority over any new requests but I'm still happy to take them ofc!

And I am doing well, thank you! My trip was good, but exhausting... 5 days of conferences and 10 working days in a row is not my idea of fun, but I've got a couple of extra days off now to compensate. So of course, I'm writing...

Anyway - onwards with the HC! This will be extremely self-indulgent seeing as you literally are describing me lmao

When you'd first met the cardinal, it had been in the library. You'd stumbled upon his little back office where he restored old books and ancient texts day to day.

You'd only been looking for some reference material, still new to the ministry and unfamiliar with the library's layout. But he was happy for the company, effectively guiding you to the section of the library you needed while conversing about what you were writing.

He offered you the spare desk in his little office, to use when you needed a quiet space free of the expectation to be social in another's company while you could focus on your writing.

You would use it often, and you got to know Copia quite well over time.

The longer you shared an office, the bigger your collection of notebooks with ideas, mind-maps, character profiles and plot plans gathered on the shelves behind your desk. Rows upon rows of notebooks...

He would nag you to let him read something of yours some time, but you'd wave him off with an "it's not ready yet..." But he'd never stop asking. One day you'd let him...

"Please, just a chapter? Will you let me, just once cara mio?"

And you did. Eventually, you let him read the book you had typed on your typewriter over the span of the last six months. He laughed. He cried. He fell in love. With the book, but also... with you.

The way you wrote, it was like the words sang to him. Your mind was truly as beautiful as your physical self. How could he not fall for you?

But he kept this to himself, for fear of frightening you out of this tiny little office and risk not seeing you every day.

Eventually, your birthday came around, and Copia had prepared something so special for you...

Whilst you had slept, he had snuck back into the office and worked all night.

Using his talent for book restoration, he had bound the hundreds of loose pages of your novel into a stunning original hardback book, crafted himself.

The cover was so ornate, so beautifully designed with references to the story itself in the red embossed artwork.

When you had opened it, he was terrified. What if you hadn't wanted it to be bound? What if you weren't totally done with it?

But, oh, how you wept.

It was the most beautiful, most thoughtful gift anyone had every given to you. He had handled your work with the care and affection that you had poured into it whilst writing it.

The same care and affection, it would seem, he had for you.

That night, after celebrating your birthday with him at a dinner he had prepared himself, you had confessed to him that the love interest of your novel had taken on the traits you had seen in him.

"What... what do you mean?" He had been so confused at first.

"I guess... what I'm trying to say, is that... He became you. And I think I fell for him..."

He had kissed you when you confessed, relieved to have his feelings reciprocated.

Years on, even in his now papacy, the two of you shared that office when he had some free time.

And somehow, he still always managed to find the time to bind the first drafts of your manuscripts together for you, to then ship to your publisher as a fully fledged published author now.

With the same care and affection as that first binding, you now had a collection of manuscripts you kept for your own personal memento collection.

Just as he would bind your books so beautifully together, you were now bound to each other. Forever.

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Keep Writing

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Rebecca Kim Wells is here to share some tips for meeting your goal this month:

Hello, dear writers! By this time in your NaNo journey I hope you’ve made some progress on your novel. (As far as I’m concerned, any progress is winning progress!) But I also know that the second week is often where doubt sets in. While the first few days are full of jitters and adrenaline, by week two things aren’t as new and exciting. You might be tempted to turn off that early alarm. You might have hit a plot quagmire and have no idea where to go. You might be facing the fact that all novelists face—that in order to write a book, you actually have to, you know, write it. And writing a novel is a long-haul project.

So how do you keep making progress when things get hard? Here are a few pitfalls I’ve experienced (and things I do to keep myself going):

1. I don’t know what happens next. 

Have you reached a point in your story where you don’t know how to get from point E to point G? Are you wracking your brain trying to come up with point F with no success? 

Good news, you’ve got several options! Do you really need point F? You can always just skip directly to point G. If you’re certain something happens between E and G, you can just write in “Somehow, the intrepid adventurers made it to the Pit of Despair!” and move on to the next scene. (Seriously, you’re allowed to do this!) 

If you’re well and truly stuck with no idea what happens next at all, take a moment to come up with a few “I wonder” statements: “I wonder what my hero is doing right now.” “I wonder what would happen if a three-headed monster interrupted dinner.” “I wonder which character is plotting a betrayal.” “I wonder who is secretly in love with who!” Then step away from your novel. Go for a walk! Read a book! Watch a TV show! Take a shower! Make dinner! But keep a notebook close, because the answer to at least one of your “I wonder” statements will come to you…

2. This feels like work and I’m bored! 

This does not mean you’re doing it wrong—writing is hard work, and sometimes it’s very boring! So as much as possible, take the opportunity to indulge yourself. Are you bored with your story? Throw in a cuddly penguin or a banter-y fencing duel or a secret tragic backstory—delight yourself with your favorite tropes and story elements! 

If you’re groaning over the plodding monotony of writing, indulge your writing self: write with the fancy notebook or the pen with cool colored ink. (I recently bought my first fountain pen and I am in love.) Light a candle. Make a special snack, use your special mug. Write with a silly cap or luxurious sweater a la Jo March. NaNoWriMo is a ridiculous, wonderful endeavor and it’s time for you to embrace that ridiculous wonderfulness wholeheartedly.

3. Is this any good? 

Great news! It is not your job right now to make anything good. Your only job is to keep writing your draft. Whether or not your first draft is good is irrelevant, so stop worrying about it! The only way a first draft can fail is if it doesn’t exist. I think Shannon Hale was the genius who said once, “When writing a first draft, I have to remind myself constantly that I'm only shoveling sand into a box so later I can build castles.” Let’s all have fun building our sandcastles.

Rebecca Kim Wells writes books filled with magic and fury (and often dragons). Her debut novel Shatter the Sky was a New England Book Award Finalist, an ALA Rainbow Book List selection, an Indies Introduce selection, and a Kids’ Indie Next Pick. She is also the author of Storm the Earth and Briar Girls. If she were a hobbit, she would undoubtedly be a Took.

[alluringjae]

all i do is wait - kdy

All I Do Is Wait | So Close

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

⤑ pairing: doyoung x female reader

⤑ word count: 22.7k

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

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

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

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

i cried so much in the process.

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

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

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

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

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

And leave you behind.

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

1948

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sh-”

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

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

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

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

“Women are only meant to stay at home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1950

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

“Oh c’mon, let’s try this out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Doyoung.”

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

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

1951

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was his last shot.

“Guide me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you offering me then, Manwol?”

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

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

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

His last letters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, are you sure?”

“I just need to see her, Jeno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His newborn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Areum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1954

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you implying?”

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

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

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

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

“Doyoung.”

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

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you be okay until then, Doyoung?”

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

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

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

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

To count, he gave you almost 50 dream calls.

The late 1950s-1960s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, over there.”

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

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

“Areum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what about the deities?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise!”

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

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

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

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

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

This was his sign to bring her home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eonjebuteoinji geudaereul bomyeon….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one will ever match up to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like what you and Doyoung aspired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just can never let him go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1973

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

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

Like mother, like daughter.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t scared of the storylines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you an only child in your family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a fun dream, it seems to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Areum!”

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

“Yes, tokki?”

Compiling his thoughts, here goes nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever, you'll stay in my heart.”

1980s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah, you take that back.”

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

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

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

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

“Kim Doyoung, you tease.”

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

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

Early 1990s

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

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

“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a good thing she did.

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

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

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

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

This was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)!”

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

And there he was, just along the hallway.

This was no longer a dream.

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

“Doyoung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, Doyoung...”

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

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

“You are asking for it now, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her actual father was in this dream with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make sure you wait for me this time.” 

[randomprose]

Shang Qinghua is, for lack of a better word, a pushover—a pathetic, cowering, pushover.

He doesn’t talk back, mostly because everyone around him is so much more OP than him and he lives in constant fear that any one of them would be the cause of his demise (accidentally and/or otherwise).

So, Shang Qinghua just lets things slide, like, a lot of things. For self-preservation purposes. So he gets taken advantage of for it, so what? As long as he’s useful, he at least doesn’t have to fear being unceremoniously eliminated.

Shang Qinghua lives his life like this—except during the bi-annual Peak Lords’ Conference.

The bi-annual Peak Lords’ Conference is where they discuss the sect’s general administrative matters and most important of all, the sect’s financial records. It’s the time all the peak lords are scrambling to complete their administrative reports and the busiest season for An Ding Peak—especially Shang Qinghua.

It’s also the only time of the year Shang Qinghua doesn’t think about the importance of not crossing anyone in the name of self-preservation.

A couple of years since the end of the original novel officially transpired, and after also officially being saddled with the Northern Desert’s palace account and affairs, Shang Qinghua has decided he has had enough and will no longer be pushed around into doing the other peaks’ paperwork for them!

Shang Qinghua gets mean and snappy at these meetings. He’s so sleep-deprived he doesn’t even have the energy to be guilty about it. That’s how exhausted he is. If someone comes for his throat during this meeting he wouldn’t even flinch. He’d probably be angrier if they somehow don’t finish the job. Put him out of his misery or don’t waste his fucking time.

If this made the other peak lords lowkey scared of him singling them out during these bi-annual meetings, that’s just a bonus.

A hush falls among the peak lords already present in Cang Qiong’s main conference hall when Shang Qinghua enters. His Head Disciple and inner disciples carrying each peak’s individual reports in tow, placing it down on Shang Qinghua’s table while the peak lord himself goes straight to the podium to load today’s presentation in the crystal mirror projector screens.

It’s times like these that Shang Qinghua is so thankful he thought about writing in projection screens in Proud Immortal Demon Way. Imagine having to write and present a whole sect’s financial report in scrolls! He’d sooner throw himself off of the top of Jue Di Gorge.

He sticks a rectangular slab of crystal to a port and activates it with a short burst of his qi. The crystal mirror lights up with the first page of Shang Qinghua’s presentation and he eyes it for a second before walking to his table.

Yes, it functions like a USB, and no he doesn’t care that ‘it goes completely against xianxia logic!’ because contrary to what Cucumber-bro says, this is actually another thing that Shang Qinghua is grateful he wrote in because it’s a fucking stroke of genius.

An An Ding disciple comes in just before the start of the conference, saying a messenger bird of a merchant lord just sent a missive labeled ‘important’.

“This is not important at all,” Shang Qinghua says before sitting down, grabbing a paper, and writing a reply anyway. He hands it to his disciple, “Here send it back. If they reply unfavorably, tell them—"

Just then Shen Qingqiu enters, flanked by Ming Fan and Luo Binghe, which startled the An Ding disciple to drop the note. Luo Binghe picks up the paper to hand it over to the startled disciple, who bowed in thanks before Shen Qingqiu snatches it and opens the note.

“'To Lord Mao," Shen Qingqiu reads. "'Is that a challenge? If so, this peak lord will engage with Lord Mao. This peak lord knows the law of this land and will gladly see Lord Mao in court. Note, this peak lord knows what happened five days after last year’s harvest moon and supposes that, too, is up for discussion. Signed Peak Lord Shang.’” Shen Qingqiu turns to Shang Qinghua as he folds the note again and hands it back to the disciple, who bows to all of them before taking his leave. “Lord Mao? The merchant that supplies some of Wan Jian Peak’s blacksmithing tools? What did this Lord Mao do five days after last year’s harvest moon?”

“Nothing and it’s none of your business,” Shang Qinghua mutters shortly as he re-arranges his scrolls while the rest of the peak lords start to file in.

It’s a testament to how exhausted Shang Qinghua is that he doesn’t even flinch when Luo Binghe levels him with a dark glare and a snarl of, “Don’t speak to Shizun like that.”

“Binghe, stand down. Shang-shidi is just under a lot of pressure. This is a busy time for An Ding Peak after all.”

“No, Luo Binghe is right,” Shang Qinghua sighs. “That was out of line, shixiong, even if what you said was true.” He bows slightly to Shen Qingqiu in apology before smiling tiredly. “Lord Mao did nothing I think. I just—”

“What is this I hear about Shang-shidi being at odds with a merchant?” Qi Qingqi pipes up clearly having heard their conversation. “Really, Shang-shixiong. What are you doing? It better not be something shady again.”

“Rest assured, Qi-shimei, this shixiong knows what he’s doing.”

“This one sure hopes you do,” Qi Qingqi says not without suspicion at the same time Shen Qingqiu asks, “Do you really?”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Shang Qinghua says, moving his hand in a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it.”

--

Later, while Shang Qinghua is in the middle of speedrunning through the peak’s expense reports, because his martial siblings have very short attention spans for such things and anything else that isn’t gossip or doesn’t directly involve them, the same An Ding disciple comes in. He slinks quietly to An Ding’s Head Disciple, who is taking notes dutifully, to inform her of the missive.

The Head Disciple gives him the go signal to report and raises her hand to get Shang Qinghua’s attention.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Shifu, but Lord Mao has responded.”

“Oh? And what did he say?”

An Ding’s Head Disciple nudges her martial sibling, who looks unsure and a little unnerved at all the eyes trained on him, to deliver the message.

“Lord Mao said—” he clears his throat. “Lord Mao said there is no need to make a big deal out of nothing and agreed to meet on the twelfth day of next month.”

Shang Qinghua looks to his Head Disciple, rapidly flipping through a small pocket notebook before looking up and shaking her head no to Shang Qinghua.

“This peak lord is not available on that date. Tell Lord Mao to move it on—Xiao Lian?”

“Shifu’s next available date is on the twenty-fifth of the month after next.”

“There. Tell Lord Mao to move the meeting to the twenty-fifth day of the month after next.”

“Hey, now,” Shen Qingqiu says because his husband has gone, Ming Fan is taking notes for him, so now he’s bored and this is the most interesting thing that’s happened since this whole meeting started. “Isn’t Shang-shidi pushing it?”

“It’s fine. This master knows what he’s doing,” Shang Qinghua says as he waves away his disciple and goes right back to drilling Liu Qingge about Bai Zhan Peak’s expense report.

--

Around the concluding hour of the meeting, Shang Qinghua’s messenger disciple returns yet again with a response.

“This disciple apologizes a thousand times for interrupting once again.”

“The meeting is about to end. Wait beside your shijie for a bit, yeah?”

“Yes, Shifu.”

But before the An Ding disciple could do as he’s told, Wei Qingwei speaks up.

“It’s fine. At this point, I think this peak lord speaks for all when he says we all want to know what Lord Mao has said.” Not in the least because they’re all bored out of their wits and this is a very welcome distraction. “He's one of Wan Jian Peak’s suppliers is he not? This peak lord has a vested interest in this exchange.”

“Alright then,” Shang Qinghua says, no longer caring and just wanting this whole meeting to end so he can go back home and catch up on some sleep for a day or three. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Lord Mao agreed to meet Shifu on the twenty-fifth of the month after next and offered to host Shifu on his manor.”

“Fat chance,” Shang Qinghua says. And what? Hand himself over for a potential assassination plot? Shang Qinghua did not last this long and survived everything that’s happened in the original storyline only for some canon fodder merchant lord to get the jump on him. He makes a mental note to look for a new supplier for Wan Jian Peak’s blacksmithing needs if Lord Mao doesn’t agree with the terms he’s laid out—ones that are very much in Cang Qiong’s favor 70-30 now that he’s pissed Shang Qinghua off. “Tell Lord Mao this peak lord will receive him in An Ding Peak at no later than Wu Shi.”

The disciple bows and leaves to send the message and Shang Qinghua turns back to conclude his presentation.

Then later, after the meeting is adjourned, Shen Qingqiu sidles up to him with an amused, “Well, that was something, Peak Lord Shang. The bi-annual Peak Lord’s Conference really brings out your backbone, huh?”

Shang Qinghua just regards his friend with an exhausted flat look at the obvious mocking use of his title before smirking, “I told you I know what I’m doing.”

“So what did Lord Mao do five days after last year’s harvest moon?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Shang Qinghua replies in earnest with a shrug and a confused frown. “I just thought of a random date and hoped for the best that it held some importance to him. Guess Lord Mao does shady things on the regular.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. Time to find Wei-shixiong a new supplier. I just hope he’s not partial to the ones that shady Lord Mao provides.”

ao3

[dragonsareourfuture]

Book Club — Obey Me! Oneshot

I was watching reviews for terrible books and this came to mind. Have fun with this mess, I sure did!

A head of peachy colored hair bobbed up and down below you. Separated by an entire flight of stairs filled to the brim with demons, you worked your legs as hard as you could to catch up to the one familiar demon in a crowd of strangers. It didn’t exactly help that they were all wearing the same uniform but, luckily for you, your demon had a distinct head of pristinely groomed hair that stood out against the rest thanks to its luster alone.

“Asmo!” You called, nearing the bottom of the staircase and jumping over the remaining steps. When the demon in question turned to acknowledge you, you continued, “I’m so pumped for book club tonight!”

“I know right!” Asmodeus held you by your elbows, subtly tucking you safely out of the way of the oncoming hallway traffic. “You finished reading your pages, I’m assuming?”

“Yep. And you?”

“Of course, dear. Oh! I forgot to mention and I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t want to say in front of Beel — I ordered us some mini finger sandwiches to snack on while we discuss the book! It’ll be like one of those fancy exclusive book clubs!”

“Sandwiches?” You opened your mouth to say, but someone beat you to it.

“Yes, Beel, and you can’t have —! Oh, Satan, it’s only you!” Asmo began harshly, sighing with relief and placing a hand over his chest when the more mature (when he wanted to be) of the brothers showed himself.

“Yes. Are you two planning on having a book club?” You and Asmo both nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds delightful! If I may pry, why wasn’t I asked to attend? You are both aware that reading is one of my favorite pastimes.”

You and Asmo shared a side eyed glance.

“I mean...do you want to join? We have the first meeting after dinner and we’ve already read up to chapter ten but we’d be happy to have you, Satan.”

“Of course. I’m a fast reader. I should be able to catch up by then if you just tell me what the book is.”

“It’s called Roses And Passion.” Asmo piped up. “Oh! That reminds me, the main guy is totally hot!”

“I don’t know, he gives me weird vibes.” You said, nose scrunching at the memory of the strange dialogue on his end.

“Yeah and? I didn’t say he wasn’t creepy I said he looked hot!”

“Fair.”

While you rambled with his brother, Satan pulled out a scrap of paper to write the title of the book down on. Though, he doubt he’d forget a strange title like that. “Roses and Passion” sounded like one of those books you would find in the grocery store literature isle. Not even an entire isle, more like a singular shelf filled with half-assed mystery novels, cheesy romances, or the romances that lead to a plot that was just straight up porn for deprived forty year olds.

What didn’t exactly surprise Satan was that when he went to pick up a copy, the ‘straight up porn’ genre was exactly what he found. He expected nothing less from Asmo but from you? ...yeah he also expected as much from you.

Nevertheless, Satan pulled the book from the shelf, payed, and set off back to the House of Lamentation. If anything he would just ask you or Asmo to pay him back for the waste of good money.

Or, so he thought. The last thing Satan expected to do was read past the ten chapters that were assigned for tonight’s meeting, completely unable to put the book down.

This is utter trash, He thought, flipping another page so fast it nearly tore. There’s no plot, he critiqued bitterly, eyes racing down the page. It’s brainless nonsense! I...I love it!

The notebook beside Satan was filled with notes. Pointless scenes, lack of character development, plots that went nowhere — it was all being scribbled down with a giddy kind of excitement that Satan usually only exuded when he was reading some of the finer points in literature. However, maybe a new calling was being explored: garbage books.

When the blonde demon finally realized his notebook had actually been filled up with notes, he snapped the book shut and headed down to dinner. His brothers loudly wondered what had taken him so long to arrive, but his silence let them know he was not willing to disclose the information. He ate, chatted lightly, and when he had finished eating he helped with the dishes. But then. Then it was time for the meeting.

Held in the library, as was expected, you, Satan, and Asmo settled in a comfy spot by the fireplace.

“So, what did you two think?” Asmodeus inquired in an effort to get the meeting started. “Satan, I’m actually quite curious about your thoughts on this genre.”

The younger demon cleared his throat. Reaching behind him, he pulled his notebook out and plopped it onto his lap. “Well I—“

“Holy fuck! That many notes?” You cackled, leaning forward to get a glimpse at what was written on the pages. “I’m guessing you liked it then?”

“No. I despised it. It was the best hour of my life.”

“I should have known you’d be into hate reading.” Asmo giggled, waving a hand as if to tell Satan to continue with his findings. “In that case, let’s rant, darlings!”

[howdywrites]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day!! What is your writing process, if you don't mind me asking?

Howdy! 🥰 My day's been alright, better than the previous couple of days, so I can't complain!

When I wrote my novel Love Is, I started out with a small concept: lumberjane and a waitress falling in love like a hallmark couple. It was originally planned to be a novella, but I ended up expanding on it this past year.

1. Building on my concept. Make moodboards, pinterest boards, playlists, play around on art breeder. I pick a projected length for my story and usually pin down a WIP name.

2. Creating characters. This includes my mains, but also important side characters. I like to have characters that work with the plot and I don't tend to add any just for fluff (nothing wrong with that, I just have a hard time writing for multiple characters). I want the side characters to have some importance to the plot or a main character.

3. Planning. I'm not a hard core outliner. In fact, most of my writing feels more like the ramblings of a madman than a cohesive process. I usually brainstorm my main plot points and use a three act structure or a plot embryo. I don't usually expand much because I like having wiggle room to change the story (examples below)

4. Zero drafting and NO editing. I don't do well when I get caught up editing the same portions of my writing over and over again. It leads to me feeling hopeless and lost. When I draft, I do it all before I even THINK about editing. Another thing I like to do is keep my writing linear (chapter one, then chapter two, etc)

5. Second drafts and beyond! Just as it sounds, I start as many drafts as I feel I need to feel good about my plot/arcs/flow.

6. Rewriting + editing. The editing process for Love Is, especially since I was doing it alone, was tricky. I opened a new doc and took pieces of my semi-final draft a few paragraphs at a time and did any rewriting/editing they needed.

7. One final read. Before I posted my novel, I did one big final read thru and added any changes I needed. This is also when you would probably want to send it off to beta readers and begin query letters.

BONUS: I work well with paper notes, so I usually keep one journal per project to jot down character bibles, plot changes and at times specific chapter outlines (and it's an excuse to use notebooks I hoard)

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story! - pt 15 - Vampire Romance

The story continues!

Masterpost linked here

Enjoy!

________________________

“Class we have two new transfers today” The teacher announced cheerfully, ignoring the excited murmurs around the class. “This is Belaire and Alexander, they are a brother and sister who have recently moved to the area, please make them feel welcome!”  She turned towards us. “Would you like to tell us a little about yourselves?”

I stood up at the front of the classroom, feeling tired.

I hate high school so much.

I glanced over at Alex, like me he had camouflaged his red eyes with illusion magic, looking like a fairly normal seventeen year old male.  He looked over the students, his gaze stopping at the front row near the window, breaking out into a wide smile.

“Hello! I’m Alexander. I’m seventeen years old, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you all much better.” His eyes never left the object of their focus while he spoke, the intensity uncomfortable. I followed the trajectory of his gaze, and let out a sigh.

I guess I underestimated the pull of the heroine. I thought uncomfortably to the scene in his bedroom yesterday. He had woken up this morning perfectly normal, but continued to insist that he would go undercover at the school as well. Any time I tried to object he had grown angry, finally snarling at me to mind my own business. Throwing my hands up in the air, I had given up temporarily.

It’s like the reasonable brother I’ve known these past few days was just an illusion.

Everyone had turned towards me, waiting for my introduction. I sighed loudly. “She told you my name already. I’m… eighteen… I guess? I’m here to focus on learning so please keep your distance.”

There were a few disgruntled murmurs at my impolite words, but I ignored them. I wasn’t here to make friends.

The teacher’s smile stiffened in place. “Very… interesting. As for where to sit…” She scanned the room. There appeared to be two open seats, one in the back near the door and the other…

“I guess we’ll be neighbors.” Alexander grinned at Chelsea and stepped towards the empty seat next to her.

Only to fall flat on his face as I tripped him.

“Sorry, brother dearest, I’m a bit short sighted and need to sit near the front.” I stepped on his back, ignoring his grunt of pain and lightly sat down at the desk next to Chelsea. I glanced back at him, noting his gloomy expression and waved cheerfully.

“You…” His voice was a growl, only audible with my better than human hearing, but I interrupted him loudly, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks for being so understanding.”

Alex glared at me, and I smiled brightly back. I might not have been able to stop him from following the plot so far, but I’m not about to let him flirt with a confused adolescent right in front of me.

After a long moment, he stood back to his feet and headed towards the empty seat in the back.

“Wasn’t that a little mean?” Chelsea whispered to me, her eyes following his back a strange light in them. Strangely enough, she wasn’t overly concerned about him. If anything she looked… embarrassed. Compared to her tears and tantrums the last time I saw her, she seemed much more reasonable today.

Maybe she’s just not a night person?

“It was very kind, actually, once you take a longer view.” After all, he had committed double suicide after an unhealthy relationship with her in the original.

She seemed unconvinced. “Then why do you seem so… happy... when you watched him fall on his face?”

Oops, my inner villainess must have been leaking out a bit at that time. It was pretty fun to watch the hero fall though.

“It’s a vampire thing.” I answered finally. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She nodded innocently, not questioning further. I watched as she turned her attention to the teacher, taking notes diligently in a bright pink notebook.

You know, she’s a bit of a brat, but she seems fairly normal today... there may be hope for her yet. With Alexander’s recent changes, I might have more luck approaching the problem from her side instead.

My mind made up, I then looked back at the blackboard, wincing at the calculations written there.

Calculus, my mortal enemy… we meet again.

________________________

After class I grabbed Chelsea’s hand, pulling her into the hallway. I could feel Alex’s angry glare on my back, but didn’t turn back to give him attention. Before we could get too far however, we were stopped by two teenage boys.

“You’re the new girl, right?” The boy flipped his overly long blond curls out of his eyes, leaning on the wall to block our path.

I stopped with a sigh. “So they tell me.”

The other boy chuckled at my words, leaning closer. “You don’t look half bad. How about you skip the next period and come out and play with us?”

Chelsea, looking nervous, hid behind my back at their words. “These two are trouble.” She whispered in my ear. “Their fathers are on the school board, so the headmaster turns a blind eye when they bully others.”

“I see…”

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes. “If you run away now, I’ll try to distract them.”

Did she forget I’m a centuries old vampire? I couldn’t help but grin. Although this habit of saving people is what keeps getting her in trouble, I can’t help but find it a bit cute. Definitely need to protect the young from my brother.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” The blond one snapped, growing impatient. “Don’t pretend like you’re not interested.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you come with us, we’ll show you a great time.”

“Well although that sounds about as appealing as dousing myself in gasoline and running through a burning building, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to pass.”  I crossed my arms and grinned. “If you don’t like it, feel free to start a fight. It’s been a while since I got to beat up idiots, I’m starting to get a bit itchy.”

“…” Both of them stared in shocked silence for a few moments, until it was interrupted by Chelsea’s laughter. Turning red at the sound, the closest boy raised a fist, preparing to strike me.

“You…”

BAM!

He went flying backwards at a high speed, hitting the lockers behind him with a loud crash, denting the metal in. His buddy fell to the ground with a frightened squeal, staring up at the assailant with horror.

“Sorry.” Liam grinned, not looking very sorry. “Didn’t see you there.”

“W-who are you?” The terrified boy asked.

“I’m the new gym teacher.” Liam cracked his knuckles, staring down at him with a frightening smile. “Looks like you two boys have got some extra energy, trying to pick up my wife… I mean pick up this random high school student that I don’t know at all.”

“What?” The confused boy had no time to protest before he was lifted up by his collar. Liam dragged him behind him, picking up the other that had been thrown into the lockers as well. “Time for some special hell punishment… cough… I mean personalized training.”

“Do you know who my father is?!”

“I’m shaking with fear.” With a cheerful wave back towards me, Liam dragged the two boys away, leaving us to stare after him in silence.

“That’s… your husband?” She asked timidly.

“Yep.”

“He’s human, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Is he always so….”

“Yep.”

She grinned. “That’s so sweet. I want to have a romance like yours one day.”

Hmm. 

I pulled her into an empty classroom, staring at her for a few moments. After a short uncomfortable silence, she turned red.

“What is it?”

“Why are you so different today?” I asked quietly. “When you came by that night, you were a lot more… excitable.”

She winced at my words, shaking her head slowly. “I …” She trailed off, obviously unsure of what to say.

“You acted like I was your mortal enemy. Now you’re so friendly, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Chelsea stared at me for a few silent moments, and then rubbed her face with her hand. “I don’t know if I can explain this, it seems too strange.”

So says the heroine of a failed novel to a world traveling amnesiac.

I suppressed a smile. “Try me.”

“A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, and something had… changed.” She sighed softly. “I felt panicked, lost. It was as if the world had shifted somehow, and left me without a place.”

“Shifted…” A few days ago… that would have been around the time I woke up in this world.

“I know this sounds crazy. I had already met Alex before this, and thought he was handsome and cool but that was it. He wasn’t that important to me right then.  But after that… shift… I started obsessing over him. Wondering where he was, worrying that he wasn’t thinking about me. I received that letter, and it seemed to confirm my worst fears.” She stood up, pacing around the room uncomfortably. “I was frantic by the time I showed up in front of you. I was convinced that you were trying to separate us, that you hated me because I was human… I wasn’t willing to listen.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description of how you were… so what changed?”

She looked embarrassed. “Last night, it shifted back. It didn’t make sense. I felt a sharp pain, so severe that I thought I was dying. But once it passed, I felt… relieved. The world was right, I was no longer lost. It was like my place in the world was secure once more. When I saw you and Alexander this morning, it was horrifying to think of how I had behaved.”

“…” I couldn’t help but think of Alexander’s episode yesterday, which seemed strangely similar. When he was being reasonable, she felt lost and hysterical. Now that he’s obsessed with her again, she’s back to normal?

Something is wrong with this world.

“I know this doesn’t excuse how poorly I’ve acted.” Chelsea sat back down next to me, her eyes slightly wet with tears. “But I am sorry. I am grateful that you’ve gone to all this trouble to protect me. “

I patted her head. “It’s fine. We’ll help you out.”

“Thanks!”

“I do stand by what I said last time though: you shouldn’t be in a romantic relationship with Alex right now. You are a teenager and he is a centuries old being. Allow yourself the space and time to grow up, to enjoy your life without being pressured into life-altering decisions by an adult who is almost fifteen times your age.”

Chelsea paused at that, and then nodded slowly. “It makes sense when you say it today.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I just don’t know if I’ll still be rational about it later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you whether you are rational or not.”

“…” Her eyes reddened at my words, and she threw herself forward, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you!”

“It’s fine… could you stop choking me?”

“You’re like the sister I’ve always wanted!”

“Sounds good… please let go.” How many times would I have suffocated in this world if I wasn’t already undead?

She finally released me, sniffing loudly. “So can I consider you a friend?”

I held up a finger. “On one condition:”

She nodded.

“Try to restrain the crying at everything.” If I’m going to be spending my time with the heroine, I’ll need all the crying-free time I can get.

She blinked rapidly, stopping the tears in her eyes from overflowing. “Deal!”

I let out a sigh of relief, shaking her hand firmly. “See, this is nice. I don’t get many nice calm moments like this…”

CRASH!

Four men broke through the window wearing bronze masks and brandishing weapons. “Kill the vampire scum and her minion!”

“… Curse my unlucky mouth! I really need to stop making vague foreshadowing statements!”  I pushed Chelsea towards the door. “Go get Liam.”

She nodded, but then halted at the door. “What about you?”

“I’m a vampire queen.” I grinned, showing my fangs. “You should be worried about them.”

She ran out, and I blocked the men from following her.

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fool! We need to kill this monstrous hag first, then we’ll go after the brat that serves her.”

I paused at their words. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a hag?”

The leader of the four snarled at me. “Silence, foul demon!”

I grabbed a desk chair, snapping off a leg. “No, no no, don’t go changing your insults now. I already heard it, and I must say that I’m very offended right now!”

I let go of my disguise completely, allowing my eyes and hair to become a bright red once more.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I’m going to take out my frustration at your poor choice of words by beating it out of you.” I brandished my makeshift club.  “Try not to die, okay? I need to get confessions out of you later.”

“Don’t listen to her lies! We outnumber her!”

I laughed out loud, going full on villainess laugh with glee. Snapping my fingers, I spread my dark magic towards the doors and windows, sealing the exits, blackening all the lights.

The room plunged into complete darkness.

“You should have brought more men.”

With that, I leapt forward, club raised.

It was a one sided battle. Unable to see in the darkness, the humans flailed around, trying to corner me by the sounds in the room. To me, who could see perfectly, this provided a  source of amusement, including leading them into swinging at each other and injuring themselves. Eventually I tired of playing with them, and with four hard taps, knocked the men unconscious.  I dissipated my dark magic, just in time for the door to burst open and for Alexander and Liam to rush into the room.

“WIFE!” Liam ran towards me, somehow managing to step on all four assailants before reaching my side. He picked me up, squeezing me tightly in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“… You realize she’s standing calmly in a room with four unconscious assassins.” Alexander knelt next to one of the men. “I’m pretty sure she’s fine.”

“’Pretty sure’ is not good enough!” Liam held me up in the air, turning me around, looking concerned.

“Liam, I’m fine, you can put me down.”

“… Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I can hold you longer, there’s no need for you to be tired.”

“Remember what I said when I agreed to let you be a teacher in this school?”

“…” Liam set me down, hanging his head. “You said don’t be creepy.”

“That’s right, everyone thinks that I’m a teenager and you’re a student. You can’t act like you usually do.”

“But you’re older than me! And we’re newly married!” Liam scuffed his foot against the ground, managing to grind his shoe on the head of one of my attackers. “It’s not fair!”

“We’re in high school. What ever made you think that life here would be fair?”

Liam tilted his head, seeming confused. “Why do you hate high school so much? Did you even go to one? You were a teenager centuries ago.”

I’ve lived multiple lifetimes as the side character or villainess in the worst version of high school to ever exist: teen romance high schools. I shuddered at the memory, patting his shoulder. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Can we focus, please?” Alex interrupted our conversation with a rude tone. “The important thing is that someone put Chelsea in danger.”

“Actually she was relatively very safe, she left the room before any fighting…”

“She’s such a special person, of course these groups covet her.” Alex looked down at the unconscious men with a sneer. “I have to protect her. I’ll pull her out of school, she can stay with me for now...”

PSST!

I pulled my brother behavior modification tool out of my bag and sprayed his face multiple times.

“BAD VAMPIRE! No stalking or kidnapping teenage girls!”

He wiped his face, his eyes changing back to a bright red in his anger. “Can you cut that out?!”

“I will when you stop being a creep.”

“You’re such a bit…”

PSST!

To my surprise, Liam took out a bottle and sprayed Alex before I could react. Seeing my look of confusion, he smiled. “Selina gave me an extra, said I would need it if you were going to be around so many hormonal teenagers.”

“That reminds me, what happened to those two boys from earlier?”

Liam let out an ominous laugh. “Nothing permanent.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Alex shouted. “This is about keeping Chelsea safe!”

“Exactly.” I waved the bottle of garlic water in the air. “Which is why she’s not staying with you. I’ll protect her.”

“Belaire are you okay?!!” Before Alex could respond, a tearful voice called out from the doorway. I turned, just in time to see Chelsea throw herself at me, crying.

“I was so worried about you!”

“I told you I’d be fine.”

“But you were outnumbered!”

“They could have brought an army, and I still would win.” I patted her head. “Trust in your friend.”

“…okay.”

“Now didn’t you just promise me that you wouldn’t cry so much?”

She laughed stepping away and wiping her tears. “Sorry.”

“…”

“…”

Liam and Alexander stared at us in shock.

Alex recovered first. “Since when are you two so close?”

Chelsea’s smile faded a little as she turned towards him. “We’re friends now.”

“But she’s standing in the way of our relationship!”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Don’t lie!”

PSST!

Liam stepped between them, spraying Alex again, looking confused. “Is it just me or did we just have this conversation, but with the roles reversed?”

“I’ll explain it later, dear.” I knelt down next to the unconscious men. “Now help me tie them up.”

As we restrained the men, ignoring Alex’s furious sputters. Eventually, the leader of the group woke up first, his initial confusion fading into horror as he stared up at us.

“Don’t be scared.” I smiled at him. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions.”

Liam cracked his knuckles. “Unless you plan on disrespecting my wife. Then you should be terrified.”

Chelsea also tried to crack her knuckles, looking much less terrifying. “Yeah, what he said.”

“…” Everyone, including the assassin, stopped and stared at her.

I patted her head. “I appreciate the thought, but stick to your strengths.” Turning back towards the captive man, I continued. “Now, who sent you?”

He glared at me. “Vampire scum, my brothers will hunt you down and send your soul back to Hell!”

Liam frowned. “Vampire hunter? I don’t recognize him.”

“Not everyone was willing to work under a traitor like you. His eyes were wide and fanatic as his speech became pressured. “A new world is coming, one which has no place for monsters and human traitors! We will cleanse this world of its filth! The flames of judgment will consume you, and we will watch with joy as you suffer!”

I rolled my eyes. “What a pleasant gentleman.”

“He’s certainly… passionate?” Chelsea shrugged.

The man looked up at her. “Foolish girl. You sided with these monsters. You betrayed your kind, and will be the first to fall!”

I saw something flash by me, and shouted “WE NEED HIM ALIVE…!”

SLASH

The man’s throat was cut, his blood soaking the front of his clothing as his wide shocked gaze met my own. His body slumped to the floor. Alex stepped back, wiping the blood from his hands, seeming calm.

“I won’t let anyone who threatens her to live.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” I smiled, and then reared back and punched him.

As he hit the floor with a groan, I leaned over. “We needed him to talk, idiot. To protect Chelsea, I need to know who is behind these men. You are not this stupid, Alex. What’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t understand!”

I grabbed his collar, pulling his face close to my own. “You’re right, because I’m actually using my brain.”

“We have three other…” He paused looking over, as there were light groans from the other side of the room.

The three other men convulsed, white foam spilling from their lips.

“Poison.” I growled, dropping Alex and stepping away, frustrated. I searched the bodies. Beyond silver knives, there was nothing on their bodies. I turned the leaders head to the side, ignoring the large wound in his neck, and found a marking at the side.

A black rose.

A quick look confirmed that the other men had the same tattoo on their neck.

“Liam, do you recognize this?”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t.”

Liam contacted his group, bringing in men to dispose of the bodies. As they cleaned up the room, he pulled me to the side, a sulking expression on his face.

“I need to return to the headquarters and look into this. I’m worried they might have ties to the hunters.”

I reached out and touched his cheek, smiling. “I understand.”

“It’s not fair! We’re finally married!” He frowned, picking me up and hugging me. “…But bringing a vampire into the hunters headquarters doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“I’ll let Chelsea stay with me tonight and protect her. Don’t worry, and come home soon.”

He pulled me in, kissing me. “I’ll come back as fast as I can. Please be safe.”

“I will.” I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I promise.”

________________________

It took very little effort to convince Chelsea to come stay with me that night. I was mildly worried about how quickly she trusted me.

But I guess that’s her problem in the story, right? She kept saving people with ties to the supernatural world and trusting everything they say.

Alex on the other hand, argued heatedly all the way to the castle once he heard she was planning to stay in my suite. As we entered the front hall, he grabbed my arm, snarling.

“This is ridiculous! I should be taking care of her!”

PSST!

Feeling bored, I sprayed him. “Maybe I need to put a more effective fluid in here? Like adding silver powder?”

He shook his head, garlic water dripping from his hair. “I don’t trust you to keep her safe!”

PSST!

Chelsea sprayed him this time. She held up the bottle, grinning. “Your husband gave this to me, saying it was useful!”

“That was the right thing to do.” I smiled back. “You keep that with you.”

“Miss… is this… person… staying here.” Selina arrived silently, a look of disapproval on her face.

“She’s going to be in my suite, Selina, please prepare her room.”

Chelsea turned to her, reaching out a hand. “I’m sorry for my actions the other day, Selina. I hope you can forgive me.”

Selina stared at her silently for a few moments. “Try to keep your hormones contained, teenager.”

“Umm… Sure, I promise.”

“… I haven’t teenaged-proofed the rooms. ” She let out a long sigh. “I’ll go prepare the bed… and place protective coverings on the furniture and carpets.”

Chelsea turned towards me, confused by the obvious hostility of my butler. I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Selina just doesn’t like teenagers.”

“That’s reasonable. I don’t like them either, and I am one.”

We laughed, heading up together.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m staying with you?” Chelsea seemed nervous. “I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” 

“It will be fine.” I grinned, “You’re in the center of my territory now. What could go wrong?”

“... Didn’t you say you were going to stop making vague foreshadowing statements?”

“...” I patted her head silently, having no words to reply. 

________________________

I got her settled into a secure room in the suite after dinner. There were no windows, with only a single entryway through the door. Wishing her goodnight, I set up a chair in front of her doorway, ready to guard through the night.

Fortunately I’m a vampire and don’t really need to sleep.

After a few hours, just past midnight, I heard footsteps leading up the nearby stairs. I jumped to my feet, taking a defensive posture. “Who’s there?”

Alex stumbled up the stairs, his face pale, a pained expression on his face. “Bel?”

“Alex, what is going…”

He collapsed to the ground in front of me, grabbing his head, as I head him whisper.

“Help me.”

[fleetingfictions]

Every author I hear of seems to write constantly. I'm a writer and and always planned to be a published novelist, but I'll honestly pursue and write a story maybe once a year when the inspiration hits. I can't write if I have no idea to write about. I'm always mulling over ideas and writing about them though. Idk, I feel like the odd one out most of the time. Can u relate? I just constantly feel like I'm wasting "writing time" 😭

I can relate in some ways, but not all ways. When my adhd was undiagnosed, I rarely could write until I had massive amounts of inspiration (which is why I've been working on my novel for about 12 years). I'd pick at it a few times a year, then put it off to the side. But all I wanted to do was write. I thought about it constantly, but never found the ability to work on it -- I felt like so much of that time was wasted where I was daydreaming but not putting it onto paper. Now that I'm diagnosed and getting the aid I need (hasn't even been a year yet), I'm a fairly consistent writer and can write even when inspiration is alluding me. I'm also an artist and am finally about to complete other projects as well. I'm not saying you have adhd, this is just my story. When it comes to having no idea what to write about, that's where I cannot relate. I have a project folder bursting with ideas that, now that I'm able to write fairly consistently, cannot wait to get my hands on. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those writers who can work on more than one project at a time unless it's something I have to write for class, like a short story or something; and as a writing major this happens frequently. Some things that helped me get into writing when I couldn't were:

1. Changing up where I wrote. Sometimes I'd go to the library and request one of the quiet rooms. Other times I'd go to a park and write at a covered picnic area. I've also gone to museums, coffee shops, visitor centers, airports, malls, etc. to write. Sometimes it's really helpful, and I get a lot done, others it was uncomfortable, and I barely got two words down. But this is how I found what environments I like to write in. I also get a lot of varying inspiration in these places for new works.

2. Cleaning out my own space. For me, when I was having trouble with my focus, I found that minimalism was the way to go. I packed up a lot of my stuff and stored it away to see if that would help -- and it did. I didn't have the distractions anymore, which helped me clear my thoughts as well. Now that I'm getting the help I need -- I'm more of a maximalist, but that helps in new ways with inspiration.

3. Ditching my computer for a notebook, and hitting the trails. As I hiked (it didn't matter where I hiked, it could be in the deep woods or a path at a local park) I would keep a log of what I noticed using all five of my senses. Sometimes I'd sit and write a short story about a certain bird I heard and what I thought it was saying, or a stump that looked like a castle. Sometimes I'd just jot down something that annoyed me, like a rock in my shoe. I'd use timestamps to show my progress. This probably helped more than anything. I wasn't forcing myself to write about certain things, just anything. A lot of these logs have thoughts, to-do lists, and various story ideas shoved into them as well -- all of which have nothing to do with what I was experiencing outside my head. I'll still do this if I'm feeling overwhelmed, not just with writing, but with life, as it helps me clear my head and organize my remaining thoughts. I will also sometimes do this in public spaces like coffee shops-- it doesn't clear my head, but listening to other people's conversations helps with dialogue.

4. A fake school assignment. I would pretend I had to write for an assignment at school -- that my grade depended on it (at this time I wasn't even in school). I'd randomly choose a prompt (mostly from some tumblr writing prompt blog I was following) and that was my assignment. Usually I said it had to be two pages, but they always ended up being more -- some of them even led to story ideas I have stored in my project folder. I remember one time I even printed out an assignment sheet to make it feel more realistic -- and even though it felt a little dumb when I first thought of it, as I was designing the sheet I already got some inspiration for the prompt and jumped right into it.

5. Lastly, force. I'd sometimes force myself to sit down and start writing. I hated it -- at least getting myself into the chair, but as soon as a few sentences were done, everything started flowing. The most progress got done with this process. There is a piece of writing advice I would follow at this point -- stop in the middle of things. Sometimes, when I felt myself coming towards the end of my writing session (either getting tired, running out of time before I had another thing on my schedule, or running out of ideas of what should happen next), I'd just stop in the middle of action, or even the middle of a sentence. This made me anxious to finish it the next day when I had more energy -- and I could pick right up. Oftentimes, if not all the time, I'd spend the rest of the day thinking about where I left off in the story -- and since I had ended in the middle of an already somewhat formed idea, and knew what I wanted to write the following day; I'd daydream about it. And since I was so focused on the remainder of that action, what happened next almost always came to me. So when I sat at my desk the next day I was prepared; not just to finish what I'd started the day before, but to continue into the next plot point -- only to stop in the middle of things. I built up this habit, and it is how I got my first draft (of my first go-around) done.

I hope this may help a bit, even if none of this works for you -- maybe it will lead you to something else that does!

Nito

[arofili]

how’d u get into writing? like, writing fic and being part of the silm community, being Known, that stuff? i’m really new to being a silm cc and i’d love to know ur advice! also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs? bc i have a Lot of hcs and meta ideas but also i’m really anxious abt posting them bc yknow anxiety is like that

these are some great questions, anon! I’m gonna go through them one by one :)

how’d u get into writing?

not to be like, super cliche, but I’ve...kind of always been a writer? as long as I can remember I’ve been telling stories, and when I was too young to read or write I would dictate them to my mom, who would type them up for me and help me choose clipart illustrations to accompany them. when I got old enough I would always be writing; I attempted my first novel at age 9, and while that never really went anywhere I did finish the darn thing and it had some pretty sophisticated plot twists for a 9-year-old!

like, writing fic

around the same time I got into fandom! I was deep into Warrior cats (like. really deep) and I believe I started writing my first fics when I was like? 10 or 11? my memory is kind of fuzzy on the order of things, but I know I got an account on the Warriors forums when I was 9, and that I was already posting my fic there when I made my FFN account. I believe I was 12 when that happened, but who knows. I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened with those forums, but uhhh pretty much all of my Warriors fic is still up on FFN lmao. you could probably find that if you want to but um...maybe don’t?

my first Big Fic was a self-insert of...my entire 5th/6th grade class into the then-current timeline of the Warriors books...well. I honestly think that might still be my most popular fic of all time l m a o though I try not to think about it because Hashtag Cringe. though as much as I look back on that time with a “yikes,” I am very grateful for the Warriors fandom in a way? that place was so accepting and encouraging of OCs, of AUs, of completely disregarding canon, of worldbuilding that is completely alien from canon - it was a fantastic sandbox to begin with, there were so many ways to write stories and practically all of them were accepted and had fellow fans invested in them!

and being part of the silm community, 

soooo I wrote Warriors fic until my freshman year of high school (wow sdjfhkdsjfh), which was when BOTFA came out, and I was absolutely wrecked by the ending and immediately started writing my own fixit fic. I was also super hooked on Kiliel! so that was my intro to the Tolkien fandom; and simultaneously, I joined tumblr, and, well, the rest is history tbh.

I honestly do not remember when I first read the Silm, but I kind of got into the more obscure parts of the Tolkien fandom through fandom osmosis, and I do have a vague memory of doodling the Finwean family tree in geometry class so it might have been later on in freshman year? that was also the same time I was having my Queer Awakening, and Russingon definitely contributed to me unlearning my internalized queerphobia, so probably around then.

anyway - queer awakening, tumblr, Tolkien, transitioning from FFN to AO3 - all of that was happening around the same time. I know I dipped my toes in the Silm fandom then, but I was still primarily a Hobbit fic writer focusing on Kiliel. toward the end of high school I kind of shifted to LOTR and (qp) Gigolas...but somehow the Silm fandom is the most active of the Big Three within the Tolkien fandom, and I was getting dragged further and further in.

it wasn’t until @backtomiddleearthmonth 2019, my freshman year of college, that I really dove into writing Silm fic! I picked some Silm-specific bingo cards and never looked back :D that was really not all that long ago but I am obsessed in a way I don’t really remember being even with TH/LOTR, I obviously cannot see the future but I anticipate hanging out here for a long time. the Silm fandom is great overall and there’s just so much material to work with!! <3

being Known, that stuff?

so I don’t really have a whole lot of context on how “well known” I am in the fandom?? definitely within the past year and a half or so I’ve noticed that I like, get asks like this, and get a significant amount of notes on my posts, and I’ve made a lot of fandom friends especially since I joined some Silm servers on Discord (hmu if you want invites; I’m on the SWG server and 2 general Silm servers and the Russingon server) this past year. and I have 3,000 followers as of this month - and while ever since I hit 1k I don’t particularly pay attention to my follower count I can definitely say that I have more engagement now than I used to! but it took me a long time to build this “audience,” I suppose; I’ve been around the Tolkien fandom since late 2014, so nearly 6 years of this, lol.

really the best way to build a following, in my experience, is to just post a lot of stuff. when I started making edits I got a lot more engagement, because for a long time I would post one every day! (I made them in batches and queued them; I didn’t actually make one every day lol...and now I’m too busy to do that, so I just make edits for events and whenever I feel like it) And I have [checks ao3] 145 works in the Silm fandom as of today - I’m fairly prolific! I’ve come to generally expect 3-10 comments on most of my oneshots, which is a lot more than I used to have back in the day. consistency and quantity are more likely to attract people to your work - and quality, of course.

also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs?

I’ve been writing since I was very young, and I’ve been writing fic for like...11 years? I think? in that time I’ve produced a lot of garbage, but imo most of that was in my Warrior cats phase, so I came into the Tolkien fandom with confidence in myself and my writing. I’m also working on original fiction on the side (I hope to eventually become a published fantasy author, but right now school takes up most of my time that I don’t devote to fandom, which gives me more immediate gratification and also is just Very Fun) and I know I’m a good writer.

basically, I’ve been doing this for like...half my life, and I’m still fairly young, so I’ve had time to build up my skill and confidence and I know I’m only going to get better with time. you will get better with practice. like I said, I’ve written a lot of terrible stuff, and it’s only through sucking for a long time that I’ve gotten to the point I am now. and I am far from perfect; I know I still have lots of room to grow!

for meta and headcanons specifically, I started with writing fic, and then when I didn’t think I could stretch something into an entire fic I would just make a hc post. I have a vivid memory of writing my first meta in a notebook during driver’s ed because it was so goddamn boring and I had Thoughts about Tauriel and Thranduil!

in my experience, meta comes from having Opinions and wanting to share them and most importantly to back them up - you need to have sources! you need to have reasons! you need to have justification! otherwise it’s not meta, it’s a headcanon or an AU. which is fine!! I love hc/AU!!! but they are not the same as meta, and I’m a stickler for being accurate when it comes to meta. if you have sources and shit to back you up, that will help you build the confidence to share your meta.

sharing disinformation and passing it off as meta instead of just coming out and saying this is a headcanon/baseless theory/AU or whatever is such a fandom pet peeve of mine; it’s not bad for something to not be Accurate! you just have to have that disclaimer - and even when you’re writing meta, you’re offering an interpretation of the text, and you need to acknowledge that other interpretations also exist and are valid.

um. I hope this answers your questions? and sorry for basically word-vomiting my entire life story, lol. this post got long; the main reason I’ve written so much fic is because I really just cannot shut up for the life of me. sooo if you can tear of that filter of being shy and just. say shit. you can go so far~!

OH and one more thing - I can’t believe I almost forgot this - but part of being a writer is participating in the community. this is code for LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT IF YOU LIKE A FIC. that’s how I made most of my fandom friends before Discord! I follow @ao3feed-silmarillion and stalk that blog for new Silm fics; I read the ones that interest me and comment on them.

I know this is not really the most common way for folks to find fic but it’s so rewarding to interact with new fic, new writers, new commentors, new stories - you can find gems that don’t rise to the top of the kudos/bookmark lists; you become friends with your fellow writers; you can watch people grow and change; you support smaller content creators. yeah, you might not be getting Just The Best Stuff, but it’s so so so worth it!!

and if you make friends in the comment section of other people’s fic - I guarantee you some of them will go to your AO3 profile and check out your fic, too! and they’ll leave comments! this is a fic community, and that’s what I cherish about fandom most of all, tbh.

anyway - again - sorry for rambling so much, but I hoped this helped! feel free to send in another ask, or to come talk to me off anon if you’d like! and definitely send me your stuff if/when you decide to share it; I would love to support you!!! <3

[poutyhannie]

Here is some fraking Han Jisung, my bias and muse. :)) 

warnings: angst, college student!han jisung, college au

word count: +2k

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Nervously, you open the door to your first summer class at the university you’d be attending in the fall.  Having been sheltered throughout your private school education, you really didn’t know what kind of people you’d meet at your university, being that it was home to over 40,000 students.  However, you were relatively mature and could hold your own.  All you needed to do act tough and above it all.  

Your walls have served you well from heart ache before.  

Not specifically on the field of romantic love, but of platonic love.  Your last ‘best’ friend had held your vulnerable heart in her hands and utterly mutilated it to the point where its scars and scabs formed a hard, impenetrable shell.  And you learned to like it that way.  Being in control of who you opened up to and knowing how to act so that others wouldn’t get close to you.  You never denied that it wasn’t lonely but at the same time, you’d rather be lonely and cry alone into your sheets than have a facade of companionship and cry onto the shoulder of someone who used you.  

You tuck these reminders into the back of your mind as you step into the lecture hall.  It could fit over three hundred students but because it was a summer class, there were about a third of that.  Still, your palms began to moisten at the chitter of so many people.  Studying their faces as you head to the empty front row, you conclude that most of them were just as wide-eyed as you.  Except, they sooth these nerves by guarding themselves with a plethora of friends.  

You’d researched your professor before enrolling in her course.  She was renowned in her field, having been one of the group who was tasked with translating an undecipherable ancient text a few years back.  Clapping her hands, her surprisingly booming voice silences the lecture hall, “Alright, class.  First day of summer courses.  Some of you are future freshmen here and some are continuing lower and upperclassmen…”

Listening intently, it’s all the more obvious when the door swings open and a wide-eyed boy hurries into the room.  Internally groaning, you realize you didn’t block the seats next to you with your bag.  Surely he wouldn’t choose the front row in a hall full of them.  You don’t make eye contact with him as he enters the room, quickly bows and mumbles an apology, and you especially don’t make eye contact when you feel the heat radiating off of him when he plops down right next to you.  Annoyed, you sigh, engrossing yourself in your notebook as the professor continues her lecture about Old English epic poetry with a forgiving smile at the boy’s direction.  

Though he smells like the scorching summer sun, when he leans over, a refreshing, warm scent fills your nose.  It reminds you of soft, wooly blankets, which, you tell yourself, would be horrible in this weather.  “Hey, what’d I miss?”  The boy whispers at you, his hushed voice irritatingly fanning over your cheek.  You finally glare at him and he still wears that dumb wide-eyed expression.  It falters a bit at your harsh gaze but he stretches his smile wider, tilting his head.  Your stomach squeezes again at the prospect of a new person and you quickly shove your notes at him to get him to stop talking to you.  Taking out his own notebook, which is yellow with patterned black bees, he nods, copying your notes.  When he’s done, he gives you a content, toothy smile and hands you it back.  

You chose not to notice it before, but his dyed blonde tips poke out from his black bucket hat and you wonder if he wore a hat because he didn’t shower.  His collarbones stick out from under his baby blue t-shirt and the little green bird emblem on his chest is almost as cute as the bees on his notebook.  He’s tucked in his shirt to his black, tech wear pants which are laced with silver chains.  Looking down, you can see he has chunky, black boots and wince at how sweaty his feet must be with those fluffy pink socks poking out of his boots.  Still, his lightly flushed face doesn’t show signs of perspiration.  By the time you look back up to his face, he’s intently taking in everything the professor is saying.  You follow suit.  

When students begin glancing, antsy at the clock, your Professor reminds the class that she has office hours.  Quickly and wordlessly, you shove your notebook into your backpack because that boy seems like he has a novel at the tip of his tongue.  With a groan, you realize the only exit is blocked by his chair and when you turn to face him, he smiles brightly, shoving out a hand.  “Name’s Jisung.  I guess we’re desk buddies now?”

Giving him a tight smile and firm shake, you reply courtly, “Yeah, I’m Y/n.  See you tomorrow.”

When you pass him, he still wants to say something.  “Do you wanna study together later?  It’d be easy to finish the homework before tomorrow then.”

You glance back at him, donning your best bored, accusatory, and patronizing look, “I don’t like studying with other people.  Thanks for the offer though.”  

Walking off with that cold combo, you expected to never hear from the baby blue boy again.  

Still, here he is in the library, leaning over your shoulder annoyingly to stare at your book.  With an amuse smile he whispers, “What question of the homework are you on?”

“23.”

“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle, “You’re quite the reader, huh?”

You ignore his remark and ignore him when he plops onto the seat next to you.  Thankfully, he pulls out a well-worn copy of Beowulf rather than talking to you.  The next two hours continue in silence as you efficiently finish the ancient epic for the umpteenth time and complete the homework reflection questions.  You easily fill out all them, recycling your old views of the characters, symbolisms, and plot into your answers.  However, the last question in bold stops you short because of its moral aspect absent in the other, more literal questions.  

“Was Grendel justified for killing those in the mead hall?”

Obviously, any reader would side with the monster slaying Beowulf, but the way she phrased the question prompts you to think that maybe she wants a different answer.  After pausing for a moment, you begin your answer, something along the lines of empathizing with the annoyed monster who just really wanted the late night partying to end.  Chuckling to yourself, you realize how much in common you have with Grendel.  

Forgetting the boy’s presence, you relax, stretching out your arms.  He looks up at you from the book, his eyes droopy and glossed over. “You done, study buddy?” He asks around a yawn.

Though the nickname prickles your annoyance, you nod and begin packing up your bag.  “See you tomorrow.”  Is all you can manage to give his hopeful gaze.

He’s on time today, scurrying into the seat next to you.  Without a bucket hat, you see his blonde tips and black roots fully.  He seemed to have showered.  The boy wears a pastel pink shirt this time, chains still jingling infuriatingly at his hip.  “Hey, Y/n,” he greets.  You expect him to launch into a monologue—or more accurately, a soliloquy because you wouldn’t be listening—but instead, he leaves you at that and with his toothy, uneven grin.  

Your Professor’s voice interrupts his dangerous smile, “My last question which asked whether Grendel was justified or not was almost entirely responded with that he wasn’t.  I would disagree with that and I agree with Y/n.”

You feel his stare as you will your cheeks to stop flaming at the unsolicited eyes of your classmates.

“We always want to side with the ‘good’, with those who don’t kill that we’re so ready to don a mask of righteousness.  I believe Grendel was justified because the people in the mead hall needed to be good neighbors.”  She smiles, continuing, “if both sides had just shown kindness, compassion, and understanding, they’d all be alive.”

Your heart tweaks at her lecture, hitting too close to home for your guarded liking.  

Though you carry out the rest of your day busily, your mind is stuck on her words.    Guiltily, your mind wanders to the boy as you walk back to your dorm as the sky turns black.  You had already moved in, but your roommate was going to join you in the fall so it was empty.  Just how you liked it.  You fill your head with thoughts of your dorm, cleaning, and classes just so that you don’t have to think about his gummy smile, his fluffy socks, or his comfortable silence.  Maybe you had judged him too hard, even with your walls, you could have at least be civil.  What was his name, again?  He had given it to you on that first day…You try to drift off to sleep but the guilt in your heart still gnaws.  

There he is again, in the middle of the Uni courtyard in the middle of the day, laughing his ass off with two other boys.  Just as you force your gaze away, his meets yours, recognition spreading a smile over his face as he beckons you over.  Your shoulders drop in annoyance, but you quickly remember last night’s guilt, walking over to the laughing boys.  

He nudges you softly, “Y/n, I want you to meet my friends.  This is Bang Chan hyung,” gesturing to a black haired, charming older boy who gives you a dimpled smile and extends his hand.  “This is Seo Changbin hyung.”  A shorter, cold-looking boy gruffly nods at you and you like him immediately.  

Chan lifts his eyebrows at you, “We were just gonna go grab a bite, you hungry, Y/n?”

You begin to shake your head until you see the boy’s—Jisung’s, you remember now—excited eyes and how he’s bouncing on his combat boots.  “Sure,” you sigh in defeat, “I’ll go.”

You learn that Chan is a lot older and has an administrative job on campus, impressive for someone so young and that Changbin is studying to become musical producer.  Quite the weird mix of interests and people, but they seem to enjoy each other’s company so much, you assume there was history.  When you ask about it over fries and burgers, Jisung nods excitedly, “Yeah, I knew Channie hyung and Changbin hyung were both coming here so I reeeeally wanted to come here too.  I’ve enrolled for the fall but wanted to come sooner.”  Chan giggles at the younger boy’s excitement and gives Jisung more of his fries.  

Changbin shifts, looking at you with a calm, still gaze, “We’ve known each other since before Jisung was a teen,” he shrugs, returning to his food, “it seemed natural to continue college together.”

You feel a pang in your chest, looking quickly down.  You’d always say to your best friend that you’d both get into your dream college and graduate together.  Their unchanging friendship festers a longing in your heart that you’ve tried so damn hard to lock away.  Thankfully, they don’t notice your moment of weakness and begin conversing about Jisung and your summer course.

“Yeah,” Jisung reminisces, laughing, “when I first saw Y/n, I thought I’d shit my pants.  She gave me this glare when I sat down next to her.”

Changbin laughs, a bubbly giggle you’ve never head before, “Well you probably did something.”

Jisung’s eyes widen and he snaps his head towards you, a fry frozen on its ascent to his already stuffed mouth, his cheeks round.

“No, no,” you respond quickly, shaking your hands in front of you, gut dropping in guilt again, “A lot of people think I’m a bitch.  Its not Jisung’s fault.”

Chan giggles, nodding his head eagerly, “Yeah, I’m sure you really scared our precious little Sungie.”  Cries of protest and denies erupt from Jisung, who continues whining at his hyungs.  You choose not to notice but you watch them longingly, the ache in your heart for someone tearing a hole in your chest.

[jackywroteabook]

6 Ways to Find Inspiration for Your Story

Inspiration… the fleeting rush of ideas that seem to only come late at night or right in the middle of important tasks. Some days, it seems that inspiration has packed up and left forever – but don’t fret! No matter how hopeless it may seem, there are always ways to get that inspiration flowing again! Here are some of my favorite ways to draw in ideas when writer’s block eats away at you:

1. Personal Experience

A little over a year ago, I joined our local community theatre. My life had never been boring by any means, but since joining the theatre, I’ve had so many incredible (and hilarious) experiences… not to mention meeting quite a few interesting characters. It was like no other place I’ve been. In a time when I was desperate for ideas, a wellspring of inspiration came rushing out of this place. Now, if I were to tell you half of the antics that have gone on behind the scenes of our shows, you would never believe me. My life has gone from fairly normal to feeling like I live in a sitcom 24/7. I’ve found that backstage fun is fuel for comedy – which is my strongpoint in writing.

Though the book I’m working on has nothing to do with theatre, the experiences I’ve found there have inspired so many scenes, characters, and plot twists. You never know when one experience could turn into your favorite idea!

2. People You Know

Don’t be afraid to write about someone close to you. Trust me, I know the awkward feeling of writing about a family member or friend, wondering what they’ll think if they find out you’ve put them into a story as a villain when they’re a hero in real life. Don’t let it stop you! If you ask any writer, they’ll tell you they do the same thing. They play matchmaker with their characters by making their best friend the love interest to the story’s heroine. Most non-writers will understand – and they’re often flattered to think you’d include them! (If you’re too worried, just ask the person. The worst they can say is no – then, you change their character just enough for them to not be suspicious and have fun with your new idea!)

One of my close friends has become one of these fun characters – we’ll call him “Liam,” which is the name for the character he’s inspired. I met Liam when I was the newest person to join a group and he was the first friend I made there. In all honesty, he’s unlike any other friend I’ve had.

Not only does he have a huge heart, but he has never lost his childlike quality. Despite seeing horrible things in his life that scar even the bravest of souls, that childlike innocence has never left him. However, he has triggers that terrify him – such as loud noises. We went out for coffee one afternoon and a wet floor sign collapsed with a loud “BANG!” that made him come out of his seat. It took four of us to calm him back down. You could see the terror in his eyes taking him back to that place of horror – but, once he was able to pull himself back, his playful energy returned. Many people don’t take him seriously because of his childlike qualities – like becoming fascinated with things most people take for granted – but he is one of the most intelligent people you’ll meet… and his fierce loyalty is a rare, wonderful trait.

Recently, I’ve had a “HELP WANTED” sign hanging from the door in my brain that leads to my writing. The main character in my novel is a spunky, outgoing, and odd girl who has been in desperate need of a best friend to help her through the events in her book – and cause a bit of fun trouble along the way. “Liam” was the perfect fit!

(I have yet to tell him about this character, because I’m planning to surprise him with it once I’ve written more of the manuscript. He’s been a huge encourager of my writing and I’m very excited to stick him in.)

3. The Internet!

When in doubt, look it up online! The internet isn’t always your enemy (though it’s quite a lovely procrastination tool). Whether you’re in need of a story idea, or just a prompt to get the words flowing, the internet can be your best friend! Many websites have millions of writing prompts right at your fingertips!

4. Don’t Forget Your Notebook!

Wherever you go, never forget to have some way of capturing an idea the minute it comes – whether you have a physical notebook or a writing app on your phone. You don’t want to come across your best inspiration yet and be caught without a way to write it down! (Though, in the unfortunate case that you don’t have anything to write with, borrow a pen from someone and find the nearest thing to write on. I’ve been known to use tissues, toilet paper, my arm, and just about anything else within reach!)

5. Go out in the world and look for things.

Looking for inspiration isn’t always as hard as it seems. As writers, we’re all guilty of staring at our screens, waiting for the perfect idea to pop into our heads. I do it more often than I’d care to admit. Inspiration doesn’t work that way.

I am the type of person who sits in a meeting and observes my colleagues – every mannerism; facial expression; even just the way they speak when proposing something versus the way they speak in normal conversation. I find the distinct nature of each person fascinating. It helps tremendously with character building!

Have writer’s block? Go out for coffee with a group of the quirkiest people you know and spend four hours letting their conversations inspire you instead of four hours smashing your head against your desk. If you don’t have a quirky group of friends, go out alone or with the person you’re closest to and eavesdrop on the most interesting group of people you can find. Listen to that elderly man in the back of the coffee shop, having a sultry and questionable conversation with his girlfriend over Skype. Watch how that quiet, teenage barista longs to talk to his female co-worker, but can’t bring himself to it. Pay attention to the Dad humming his favorite Disney songs, while his twelve-year-old daughter sits beside him, sipping hot chocolate and reading her favorite horror novel. You never know who or what could inspire your bestseller. Getting out there and experiencing all of the ideas this world has to offer is much more fun than sitting alone in frustration!

6. My final, most crucial piece of advice: Never give up!

It may seem like you’ll never find the right ideas for your novel… but don’t give up hope. Be persistent, keep searching, and I promise you will find your inspiration!

[lynnkn]

Get It In Writing

Here’s my Pynch Secret Santa for @betterwithoutsense. One of the prompts was non-magic au. Hope you enjoy!

@pynchpromptweek

Read it on ao3!

Ronan was always an outdoorsy type. His mind moved faster when the world around him moved slower. He liked New York, but it was never meant to be his home.

He had come up with the idea to move back home, drunk out of his mind on a Tuesday, after weeks of trying and failing to churn out so much as a short story, let alone a novel. He hadn’t had an original idea since he was fifteen. It made perfect sense if he didn’t think about it too much. At fifteen, he’d created some of his most original ideas, he crafted plots so intricate they made his adult self weep with jealousy. Characters had come to him like dreams. Nothing he’d written since Declan swept him and Matthew off to Alexandria had come close to the stuff he’d scribbled in frayed notebooks between lessons.

If he did let himself think about it, he’d wonder if it had less to do with the change in locale and more to do with his parents’ deaths.

He’d called Blue the next morning. She offered him the couch at her mother’s house while he looked for a place. He calls her again just as the plane lands.

“Don’t hate me,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“Oh, I love when you start conversations like that.”

“I’m stuck at work.” There’s a shuffling and a crash from the other end of the line, followed by voices. At least three of them are yelling out for Blue. “We’re understaffed. Three people quit last week and I’m the only manager left.”

He makes plans to call an Uber as soon as they land. He hates to do it, but he’s left without much of a choice. He’d avoided taxis and the like for most of his time in the city, but every time he did it, it felt wrong. His skin prickled and pulled like even it knew he did not belong in the backseat of someone else’s car.

“But I sent my cousin to pick you up at baggage claim,” Blue says.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you at the house?”

“Yes, definitely! I’ll see you tonight.”

“And thanks for all this.”

“No problem, Ronan.” She huffs a breathy sigh and the phone crackles as she leans in closer to whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too shithead.”

Ronan had met plenty of Blue’s cousins. While the girls come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, they have names like Orla or Chrysanthemum. They wear mismatched clothing and make art out of recycled materials. They’re all indiscriminately weird. He feels confident in his ability to pick a Sargent out of a line-up.

The baggage claim is a confusing swirl of business suits and combat uniforms. He walks past a family carrying a giant banner. But he recognizes none of them. There are no floor-length skirts, no dyed hair. He pulls out his phone to call Blue back when a voice calls out his name. He turns, but he can’t make out who it is. Then he sees him.

He’s leaning against a half-wall, hands tucked into his pockets and a denim jacket tossed over his shoulder. He pushes off with his foot and approaches cautiously. He’s waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Ronan coughs out. He’s proud of his own tact and grace for the briefest flash before he opens his mouth again. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Blue said she’d call you.” He shuffles for a moment, grabbing desperately at his phone. “I’m Adam. I’m gonna take you back to the house if that’s cool.”

“It’s fine, man. You’re just not who I expected.”

“Well,” he says, starting a sentence he clearly never plans to finish. “You got bags?”

“Yeah. Wait here. I’ll get them.”

Adam takes the large suitcase and reaches for the duffel, but Ronan shakes his head. Adam shrugs and leads the way to the car. Ronan pulls the bag onto his shoulder and flinches as the bag bangs angrily against his stiff muscles. He moves through the pain, desperately hoping Adam can’t tell he’s struggling.

“So how are you related to Blue again?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

“Uh, I’m Persephone’s kid.”

He remembers Persephone, long white hair, and a soft-spoken voice. She baked pies and could speak with some level of authority on any topic a person brought up. But she hadn’t had any children that he knew of. And he’s sure he’d remember Adam.

“Oh. Sure.”

“It’s an adoption thing,” he says like he’s not outrageously uncomfortable.

“That’s cool,” Ronan says like he wasn’t wondering. He doesn’t want to push so he lets the conversation float away. He’s a big fan of comfortable silence. The issue is that nothing about this situation is comfortable and he’s drowning in his own goddamn bullshit. He follows Adam to a monstrosity of parts but resists the urge to comment. This clearly isn’t the kind of car a person chooses for themselves. They exchange nervous smiles over the trunk and settle into their seats.

Adam clearly knows where he’s going so Ronan settles back in his seat, watching D.C.fade away. When the world turns green, he lets himself feel at home.

“Blue talks about you a lot,” Adam says.

And that’s the funny thing because he’s talked to Blue a lot in the years since he left, but she’s never mentioned Adam. He searches his memory for any mention or comment on the addition of a new cousin, but there’s nothing. He’d told her about every gruesome, gory detail of his move to Alexandria, of school, and Declan, and Matthew. And then when he’d moved to New York, he’d told her about his building and the shitty people he talked to and he’d laid all this on the line without considering that she was still in Henrietta and her family was changing and he didn’t even know. Why hadn’t she told him? He only lets it sting for a moment. Then he numbs it with a promise to talk to her later.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s my best friend.”

They don’t talk much more on the drive, but Ronan watches Adam out of the corner of his eye. He’s the kind of guy a teenaged version of himself would’ve fantasized over. His hands grip the wheel and his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he focuses on the road. His eyebrows hang heavily over weary eyes. He’s a strange guy, a unique blend of old and young, of new and refurbished. He’s a lot like the car he drives and Ronan wonders if this body is also the kind no one chooses for themselves. But he can't stop staring nonetheless.

The house looks like itself when they pull up and a strange warmth pools through his gut. He breaths in the air as he steps out of the car. It’s lighter here. The air hits the bottom of his lungs and he pulls another breath in just to hold it there. To breathe. If he forgets, he can pretend he’s fourteen and coming over to borrow a cd. Or that he’s ten and coming to watch a movie his parents wouldn’t let him watch. Or that he’s seven and going over to play at a friend’s house for the first time in his life. He could stand out there all day, but he wants to see Maura so he hauls the stupidly heavy duffel over his shoulder and goes inside.

“Ronan? Is that you? Get your ass in here.” Maura’s voice blends with the hum of the laundry machine and children screaming somewhere down the hall and it’s a sound so wrapped in nostalgia, Ronan can’t remember what year it is. He follows the sound to the kitchen where she waits with open arms. He leans down to let her pull him into a hug. Behind him, the screen door slams as Adam comes in behind him, but he doesn’t pull away. “How’ve you been?” she asks, finally pushing him back to take in the sight of him.

“I’m alright.”

“You’re staying with us for a while?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You know it’s not.” She turns back to the counter in front of her. She has a sheet of pepperoni rolls half wrapped and lined up on a strip of parchment paper. She grabs the dough and goes back to work as Ronan leans against the counter, watching her fingers delicately shaping the rolls. “We’re a lot nicer to the boys than we used to be, right Adam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says brushing past both of them on his way out the back.

“Oh I’m convinced,” Ronan says.

Adam stops and quirks a quiet smile, the kind Ronan wasn’t supposed to see. He turns back to them. “I promised Calla I’d fix the porch rail.”

“It can wait if you want some lunch," Maura says.

“I’d rather finish it up before class.” He looks like an animal caught in a trap, leaning towards the back door and letting his eyes wander out the window. “But I’ll take a pepperoni roll when I’m finished if you’re offering.”

She nods at him and this seems to be a dismissal because he’s out the door before Ronan can blink. As soon as he’s gone, though, Ronan is thinking about him again. About how strange he is and how much stranger he seems in a house like this. He shouldn’t fit in and yet, everything about him makes sense.

Ronan washes his hands and picks up a strip of dough, following Maura’s gentle instructions. She reaches over and fixes each roll he makes, but he doesn’t mind. He lets her fix his mistakes with no more than an overdramatic eye roll. And she doesn’t comment on his lack of manners. Maura never expected him to be polite, so long as he was kind.

Blue doesn’t make it home for another two hours. By that time, Ronan is full of pepperoni rolls and Adam has gone to class. He waits for her on the porch and she runs and jumps into his arms the moment she sees him. He picks her up, sweeping her feet out from under her. He’d hit a growth spurt a month after leaving town and hadn’t stopped until he was ducking in doorways.

She startles, but he’s strong and he’d chop his own arms off before he hurt her.

Blue and Ronan had been the weird kids of their homeschool co-op. She yelled about the patriarchy during history and he knew more about Irish folklore than algebra. She hissed at the other kids and he hit anyone who made fun of her.

“I knew you’d come home eventually,” she says.

“Then you must be psychic cause I didn’t know until last month.” He hugs her and she still smells like the tree in the backyard and pixie sticks. All is right with the world. She doesn’t look all that different either. She grew maybe another inch or two, but all-in-all, she’s still what he remembers. He wonders if she’s disappointed cause he sure as hell isn’t the Ronan she knew.

The passenger side door shuts and a man climbs out. His hair is neatly combed and his shirt is ironed. He sweeps a hand over his tie and waves at the two of them.

Blue waves back. She glances over her shoulder at Ronan, hesitant and curious. She waits for a reaction, but Ronan has nothing to say. He watches, slack-jawed and stupid as the man approaches. He kisses Blue on the cheek and offers Ronan his hand.

“You must be Ronan,” he says. They shake hands, a sweaty affair that Ronan pulls away from as soon as he gets the chance. “I’m Gansey.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Blue says. He grins back at her and then at Ronan, slipping into the house, leaving silence in his wake.

“Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Well John Boy, things have changed here on Walton’s mountain.” She laughs at her own joke, watching for Ronan to join her. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were miserable, Ronan,” she says. “And don’t say you weren’t I could tell. I just didn’t want to rub it in your face.”

“You still should’ve told me.” It burns, like every other little hurt. These days, Ronan can’t seem to feel anything a normal amount. Every prick is a white-hot scorch. Every ache is a broken bone. One day the floor fell beneath him and the pain gets worse every time he hits another level of concrete and earth.

Blue nods and she turns, just enough to the side so Ronan can’t parse out her face. He can’t read her anymore. And so he falls again.

“And what about Adam?” he asks.

“What about him?”

Ronan’s not even sure himself. But he shows up in the same shitty town he’s always lived in and he comes back to a place that had once been his second home and this guy is here, just waiting and he’s everything Ronan thought he’d wanted back then. His perspective is tilting. He thinks about the guys back in New York: Proko, Skov, Swan, and Jiang. He thinks of Kavinsky and how much sense they made. He thinks Adam seems like the kind of guy who’s going to get him hurt. He thinks of how much he’d love to let someone like Adam hurt him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I didn’t know how to,” she says. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Then why send him to pick me up?” Ronan leans into her, watching for a flicker of something recognizable. The Blue he’d known never lied to him. She was honest, sometimes brutally so and she never hid anything from him. They’d talked constantly over the years. And while he’d unloaded all of his bullshit on her, she’s remained mysterious in regards to her own life.

“I think you’ll like him,” she says. “He needs someone like you.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your cousin, Blue.”

“I’m not suggesting you fuck him. I just thought you could be friends.” She rubs her hand over her eyes, pulling her features in a sharp downturn. “I was gonna say the same about Gansey.”

He lets the breath out of his cheeks and watches the wind blow through the grass. It's grown long, just the way Blue likes it. He lets the wind move him like the grass, swaying gently until he feels grounded. He’s not mad at Blue. Not really. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I just want to make sure you have a support system here.”

“I do,” he says.

“Besides me and my mom.” She wipes at her eye again and Ronan graciously ignores the single tear.

He gestures to the door and the family waiting inside. “Well then let’s go.”

Blue smiles and Ronan remembers why he’s here in the first place. Blue is something stronger, more prominent than anything in New York. She makes him stronger, louder. It’s not just about Henrietta or the mountains. It’s in Blue’s smiles and Maura’s eyes and the strangeness of them all. This is where his story is waiting for him. It’s always been here. Ronan is the one who left.

Soon they’re all sat around the table for dinner. The conversation is light and easy. No one pushes Ronan to talk about what he’s been doing in New York and he’s eternally grateful for that. They talk about Blue’s job at Nino’s and Gansey’s parents’ real estate business. He promises to help Ronan check out some of the properties in the area. Adam excuses himself early, claiming he has to get up early for work in the morning.

“What do you do?” Ronan asks, helping Maura clear the table.

“I work at the Greenmantles’ farm up in Singer Falls,” he says. And Ronan feels his heart drop all the way to his ass. “It’s this really old shitty family farm that this guy bought a few years ago. And he has no idea how to run a farm so it’s a disaster.”

“Oh,’ Ronan says. “That’s my house.”

Adam’s eyes widen to twice their regular size. “I…”

“It was always kind of shitty,” he says.

“Yeah.” Adam stands awkwardly behind his chair, perhaps waiting for an appropriate time to bolt. Ronan breaks eye contact, hoping to put him at ease.

But the idea of his home, fallen into disrepair bothers him more than he expected. He remembers the Greenmantles. He doesn’t remember them fondly. He turns to go outside for another breath of fresh air. As he heads for the door, Ronan hears the exchange between Adam and his mother.

“You couldn’t have told me he lived there before I opened my mouth?”

“I could’ve,” she says, placing a palm on the top of his head. She plants a kiss on it and walks to the sink to wash out her mug. Adam, for what it’s worth, smacks his head against the doorframe.

He spends the next night, sitting on the blanket with Blue and Adam and their friends. Gansey’s there, as is his friend Henry. Noah, one of Blue’s coworkers turns up with beer. And they sit in the grass watching the stars. It’s not until they’ve been laying there for a couple of hours, laughing and teasing like they’ve always been this way, that Ronan realizes how much he needs this.

As the others trickle inside for air conditioning or food or sleep, Ronan and Adam are left alone for the first time since the car ride.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” Adam says.

“It’s not that,” Ronan says, hands folded behind his head. The stars are duller here in Henrietta proper, but it’s the closest to home he’s gotten in years. “I just realized Blue hasn’t been telling me shit. I didn’t know about you. It’s not personal.”

“That’s probably my fault. I told her not to tell people.” He bunches a corner of the blanket in a tight fist, before releasing it and smoothing it back out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just…” He stops, just long enough that Ronan doesn’t think he ever plans to finish the sentence. Then he groans like he’s forcing the truth from someplace buried within him. “Things weren’t good at home so when Persephone offered…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Still,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

The beer is warm and settling in Ronan’s stomach in that way that makes him a little worried sometimes, so he sets it aside. He closes his eyes and reminds himself why he stops. Because it would be so easy to keep going. But he actually likes talking to Adam, and he thinks he might even want to remember this conversation in the morning.

“Blue said you’re a writer?” he asks.

This is a tightrope. Ronan calls himself a writer. His father had called him a writer. Even Declan, for all his infuriating nagging, calls Ronan a writer. But he has nothing to show for it. Nothing’s proud of. People use to ask him this and he’d pull out notebooks full of stories. Sometimes he’d just recite stories from memory like Niall once had. But now, he has nothing to show for the title. He’d trusted the story was here, buried in the hills of Henrietta, sleeping, waiting.

“I guess I am,” he says.

“What do you write?”

“Fantasy.” It’s one of the oldest truths he has to give.

“Only fantasy?” Adam asks. “Never anything else?”

Ronan shakes his head. He’d never had much use for anything else. He’d grown up with his father's stories, grandiose and ridiculous. He’d never conformed to the rules of the mortal world and Rona’s narrative imagination took the hint and ran with it. He silently begs Adam not to ask about his work anymore. Hopes to God he won’t ask to read anything. And he doesn’t. Instead, he tips his head up toward the sky, eyes tracing patterns of stars overhead.

“Tell me something about you,” Ronan says when the silence lingers too long.

“Like what?” He doesn’t move, chin tipped up the heavens and Ronan studies the curve of his jaw.

“Anything true,” he says.

“I’m deaf in my right ear.”

“Really?”

“No,” he says. He’s got a gentle smirk that charms Ronan more than he’s willing to admit. “It’s my left.”

“Can you hear me okay now?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s quiet.”

The summer passes in hazy waves, washing over him every few weeks as he watches time slip away. He’s done nothing. He’s written nothing. But he tours properties with Gansey and makes art with Blue. He buys a skateboard and lets Noah teach him a few tricks and he let Henry take him to Henrietta’s newest and only gay bar. It’s not the best summer of his life, but it comes pretty damn close.

And then there’s Adam who listens better than anyone he knows. They sit together, nearly every day, either on the porch or in the kitchen. Sometimes they drive miles away from the house in Adam's car, away from Henrietta and they park and they talk.

He tells Adam about the farm and Adam tells him about the trailer. He talks about Declan’s nagging texts about college and Adam talks about using the money from the Greenmantles to pay for classes and textbooks at the local community college.

In September, Adam’s car falls to shit in the driveway and several hours under the hood aren’t enough to fix it so Ronan drives him to work in Maura's car, promising to bring it back immediately so no one got stranded at the house.

He follows the gravel driveway, following the curves and dips just as he had once upon a time. He doesn’t watch Adam, but he can feel himself being watched. “This is where I’m gonna live,” he says, pulling in behind a car too shiny and new to fit in with its surroundings. “I don’t want to buy another place.”

“You mean this is it?” He looks over his shoulder out the window and Ronan watches the line of his shoulder crease. If he could, he’d trace a finger over, push in where the skin dips beneath bone. He turns back before Ronan can pull his gaze away. “This is your perfect house?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. I guess I just assumed this place would be…”

“Traumatic?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Adam's gaze floats back to the open field. Ronan can't tell if the expression is jealousy or pity. Maybe it's both. “You don’t see my buying my childhood home.”

“I loved that house. I loved the farm. I could get cattle.”

“You’re gonna buy cows?”

“No, but I could if I had this place.”

“You could always ask if they’d be willing to sell?”

“You work for the guy. Do you think he’d sell it to me?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches the house, eyes full of hope or envy or something dangerous like that. When he turns back, the light of the sunset hits his face and everything seems right. Ronan can picture them sitting on the porch, sipping tea or bourbon on the front porch. He wants this. He wants him. He wants, wants, wants so much it hurts. He reaches, but the whole world lays on a shelf above him, just out of reach.

His mother used to hide cookies on the top shelf, saving them for after dinner. When he closes his eyes, Ronan can see his father’s arm stretched upward pulling the cookie jar down to Ronan. “Just one,” he’d whisper and they’d never speak of it again. Until the next time.

Adam leans forward, pressing warm lips into his and it’s that hand reaching out to him, pulling things down to him that once seemed so impossible he could cry.

He nearly does when Adam pulls away, slowly with a single breath. It was a period, not a comma. It was a thought, not an answer. They let themselves freeze, both leaning over the center console to breathe against one another’s collarbones. This was impossible.

“Do you wanna come look around?” Adam asks.

“Isn’t that a little risky?”

“Mr. And Mrs. Greenmantle aren’t home,” he says. He leans over to unlock Ronan’s seatbelt and the feel of Adam’s arm brushing against his stomach could convince him of almost anything.

“Okay,” he says.

Adam takes him by the hand and leads him around the house, past the empty cow pastures and the shiny new silo. He introduces him to Mr. Gray and the other farmhands and they regale Ronan with stories about Adam at work that make his cheeks flush bright pink.

They climb up the hill and past the old storage shed, just the two of them.

“That thing’s still around?”

“Yeah. It’s old as shit. I can tell.” Adam kicks up some gravel and a small cloud forms around his ankles. “A lot of the old equipment up there’s never been used. Greenmantle just leaves it lying around and sends me up there twice a week to look for something.”

“Yeah. That roof leaks every spring.”

“I know. I keep bugging him to have someone look at it.” He shrugs, the noncommittal gesture of someone who is used to being ignored. Ronan takes care to grip his shoulder with a weighted strength. And he looks at this guy, so fucking beautiful and so capable, and wonders how anyone could see him in any other light.

“Show me the house,” he says, wrapping his other arm around Adam’s waist.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Then we’ll have to be fast,” Ronan says. “Lucky for you, fast is my specialty.”

“Stop,” he says. He pushes away, without a second glance and bolts for the barn as soon as he’s out of Ronan’s grip.

“Hey,” Ronan calls after him. He watches as Adam turns, pulling anxiously at his bangs as they flop into his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just miss this place.”

He thinks of the smell of cinnamon in the kitchen and the dent Declan’s head made in the hardwood and the green slime stain on the carpet in Matthew’s room. He wants it back even for a moment. He wants it more than anything. Anything except Adam.

But Adam pulls another breath into his lungs and says. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”

He takes Ronan’s hand in his, leading him toward the house, pulling at his finger and the heat trapped between their palms travels all the way up Ronan’s arm. He lets himself be dragged until they reach the porch. He pulls a key from the sconce and opens the front door. The same one Ronan remembered. He could picture his mother, standing in the foyer if he focused.

The craziness of it all strikes him as he stands there. He thought he’d never see this place again, but he’s standing there and he’s so close to what he wants and yet so far. So he pulls Adam in for another kiss, this one messier, hungrier. He buries his hands in the hair on the back of Adam’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan turns back to the open door and there is Greenmantle in all his smarmy glory. Ronan previously thought his teenage memories had exaggerated, but he was clearly right all along. This guy simply looks like a bastard.

“Sir,” Adam says. It’s a plea, a desperate Hail Mary from someone Ronan once thought was too proud for such things.

“Get out,” he says. He holds his hand out and Adam slowly drops the keys. He doesn’t look at Greenmantle or Ronan. He watches his feet. Ronan can’t help but watch him. “And don’t come back. You’re done.”

They don’t talk on the way back to the car. There is nothing to say. Adam slams the door as he sits. He makes a sound, so low, so guttural, Ronan would’ve thought it came from one of the animals.

“You took it too far. I lost my job, Ronan!”

“I know that.” He puts his keys in the ignition and lets the engine roar to life under them. He feels better, but Adam clearly doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“If I don’t have a job, I can’t keep paying for school.”

“Listen, I know. I’ll help you. It’s not like I’m gonna let your freeze out there.”

“Oh yeah, cause your dream comes before everything else, huh? What about my dream?” He takes a harsh breath and hunches over the dash, refusing to meet Ronan’s eyes. It’s possible there are tears, but Ronan feels too guilty to look more closely.

“What fucking dream, Parrish? Your big dream is to spend the rest of your life slaving away so some dipshit in suit and tie gets to summer in Guam. That’s not a dream. That’s a nightmare.”

“It’s better than this.” He drops his head to his knees, burying his face. He has nothing to worry about. Ronan couldn’t look at his face if wanted to. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let help you find something better.”

“This is why you don’t know anything about Blue. You’re too caught up in your own bullshit to realize the rest of us have stuff going on too.”

He drives Adam back to the house without another word. He doesn’t go inside. He doesn’t want to see anyone else. He wants to drive. He takes the backroads too fast and the curves too sharp. He lets the road lead him to the convenience store just up the road. At least he saves the whiskey until he gets back to the house.

When he wakes in the morning, he doesn’t remember much after he got back. But he’s on the porch, back aching and head throbbing instead of tucked away on the couch, so he’s willing to bet it didn’t go well. Maura is sipping tea at the kitchen table. “Wanna tell me what you were doing out there? With my car?”

He shakes his head. He tests his voice, but it’s rough and gravely. He clears it into his fist before trying again. “Is Adam here?”

“He went to talk to Greenmantle.” She sips her tea again, placing it beside her. She looks up, trying to look him in the eyes, but Ronan stares at the table, the floor, anything but her face. She gives up, crossing the room to fill a glass with water from the sink “Blue and the boys went with him,” she says, handing it to him. "they said they were going to get his job back."

He sips at it cautiously. It lands in his stomach with a splash, so he stops, letting it settle before sipping again. “I need to go see him.”

“Is that a good idea?”

He drains the rest of the glass in one gulp and sets the glass back on the table. “I don’t know,” he says. With a clearer head and a couple of Ibuprofen, he hops in his car and prays for one more miracle.

Mr. Gray is there when the BMW crawls up the drive. He directs Ronan to the old shed, before reminding him to not get caught.

Adam’s got the door to the shed propped open so he sees Ronan coming from a mile away. “Go,” he says once they’re close enough to talk without yelling.

“Parrish, I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t pull a muscle.”

“I’m trying to act like a grown-up here. Would you come talk to me?”

“Talking to you got me stuck up here cataloging inventory in the first place. I had to beg for my job back.” He drops an ax beside him with a resounding crack that catches them both off guard. They stare at each other for a moment, caught up in their confusion before Adam turns back to his work. Ronan can’t look away. “Just leave me alone. We can talk tonight.”

The crack returns followed by a crash and Adam’s head dips beneath the stacked crates without time to so much as scream.

“Parrish!”

He rushes forward, forgetting to consider the already fragile flooring. It bends and moans in front of him. He pulls back, leaning over the boxes to get a view of the hole, slowly spreading as bits of wood flake off. “Parrish?” he yells begging his friend or God for an answer.

Both God and Adam seem to have other plans as Greenmantle rounds the corner. “What the hell was that sound? What are you doing here?”

“Parrish, can you hear me?” He waits for an answer. A beat. Nothing. He’s not a patient guy, but he waits for a second longer, prays for so much as a grunt or groan, but nothing. “He fell through.”

“What do you mean he feel through?”

“I’m not a fucking contractor. He fell through the fucking floor. What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Gray is there in an instant. He stays back graciously and doesn’t seem interested outside the basics. “Is he responding?”

“No,” Ronan says. He thanks God that someone else is taking over the situation because he's beginning to feel horribly unqualified. “I think he’s unconscious.”

“Do you have your phone on you?”

“No. I left it in my car.”

Mr. Gray turns to Greenmantle wordlessly. The two exchange looks that seem to cycle through an entire exasperated conversation before Greenmantle spits out “I don’t have service out here.”

“Ronan?” Blue yells, rushing forward. Henry, Noah, and Gansey follow her. He holds out a hand to keep them back. He watches the hole, waiting for it to spread, and feels it bobble beneath him. He’s not safe either and he knows it, but if someone else comes inside, they’re definitely fucked. He looks at her though and the unshed tears in her eyes undo him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can say anything. He’s trapped leaning over a hole and Parrish is trapped and the whole world is pulling in toward him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it off. Still, he says “I’m okay. But if I move the rest of this place is gonna cave in on him.”

Gansey runs up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He tucks her into his chest and they both stare back, discomfort clear in their eyes. They flash him matching encouraging smiles through the fear.

“I’m gonna call 911,” Henry yells, sprinting back across the field from where he came. No one stops to thank him.

“Is this really necessary?” Greenmantle asks.

“It may be a while before anyone makes it out here,” Mr. Gray says. “Ronan, if we can get you out, they’ll be able to get to Adam quicker. Can you sit down where you are?”

Ronan pushes a box of small garden tools off to the side, clearing enough of a path for him to sit down. He lowers himself gently, holding his breath the whole way down. He doesn’t release until his ass hits the floor.

“Good,” Mr. Gray says. He leans forward, peering over the mess to meet his eyes. Ronan sees his own fear and panic reflected in the man’s eyes. “Now roll onto your stomach, okay? You’re gonna crawl.”

He pushed himself over, turning as slow as he could. The floor groaned again beneath him. “This isn’t working. This is all gonna end up on top of him.”

“No. It’s not. You’re going to crawl toward me. You ever play army guy when you were a kid? It’s just like that. Keep your stomach on the ground and crawl.”

Ronan crawls. He can't see the other from the ground, but he can hear them talking around him.

“We can’t get to Adam until we’ve got him safe," Mr. Gray says. His voice is calm, but in the overly-controlled way that indicates a person is not actually calm at all. “If we tear down that back wall, we may be able to dig through to him.”

“We might just end up staking more debris on top of him,” Greenmantle says.

“I don’t know how else to access him.”

“There’s a crawlspace,” Ronan says. He pulls himself past an old ladder, taking care to avoid rusty nails and a suspicious stain. He thinks about his last tetanus shot and decides a booster couldn't hurt.

“What?” Greenmantle leans down to stare at Ronan through a gap. Ronan ignores his furrowed brow and exasperated tone.

“There’s a crawlspace underneath.” He pulls himself another inch and Gansey is there offering a hand. He takes it graciously and Gansey pulls him the last few inches off the foundation and through the doorway. Mr. Gray leans over and tugs on his other hand pulling him up. He’s still coughing from the dust and panic as he throws himself around the corner of the building to the small wooden door.

The deadbolt gives way with little fuss despite the copious amounts of rust around it. “Adam?” he yells into the entrance, but there’s still no response.

“I’m little,” Blue says. “I can fit more easily.”

“You’re not dressed for it. There’s ticks and shit down there.” He hurriedly tucks his jeans into his boots and slides through the door before anyone can stop him.

He can see the damage as soon as his eyes adjust to the dark. And then he’s army crawling again. He pulls himself forward, pushing past bugs and dirt and what he thinks was once a raccoon. He crawls until he reaches and a chunk of wood too big to move. He has no leverage in the slim space around him. He can barely push himself up. His shoulders are squished in too tight to move anything heavy. He kicks himself for not thinking of a better plan. He crawls around the wood, blinking dust from his eyes and searching for any sign of Adam.

He peeks past the beam to see a clear space on the other side. He sees the ax to his left. He’s here. He’s somewhere in this place. He’s so close Ronan could touch him except he’s hidden and not responding. “Adam?” he yells one last time.

There’s a groan, soft and pained, but a groan nonetheless.

“Ronan? Can you hear us?” Mr. Gray yells.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Kinda busy here.”

“You need to get out of there, Ronan.”

“Let me just get to him.”

“Ronan, now!” Gansey yells.

There’s another crack and a plank falls on top of the stack. But it stops as soon as it starts. The dust settles into his eyes and he can’t see in front of him, but he can hear the gasps and murmurs from above him. “I’m okay.”

“Ronan get out now.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Adam coughs. It’s harsh and pained, but it’s the best sound he’s heard because he can tell where it came from. He pulls the ax toward him. There isn’t room to swing, but he doesn’t want to anyway, not with Adam so close. He smashes it into the block of wood. It doesn’t split, but he’s got enough force to crack and splinter it. With a few more strikes, it breaks away just enough to wiggle. He pulls it back, throws it over his shoulder and there is Adam.

He’s pale, coated in a layer of dust and grime and his temple’s a mess of blood, but he’s the best thing Ronan’s ever seen. He collapses by his side, sweeping a hand over the blood clumping in his bangs. He weighs the danger of spinal injuries against the threat of another collapse. The voices screaming above him win out. He ends up pulling Adam behind him, trying to keep his head and neck as steady as possible.

Mr. Gray waits at the door and Ronan is more than happy to hand Adam over to him. He pulls Adam into his arms and immediately heads for the driveway where an ambulance is pulling up. Ronan falters back a step at the ominous task of pulling himself back out.

When he turns back to the opening, his friends are there. Noah and Gansey reach down, grabbing Ronan by the biceps and hauling him out with minimal assistance from himself. Henry hands him a bottle of water and a towel as soon as he touches the ground again. And Blue says nothing, simply throws herself at him, face into his chest, and hugs tighter than she ever had before. And he lets her.

And when he starts coughing, they help him sip from the water. When he coughs so hard he throws up, they pull him to his feet, dragging him toward the ambulance as well.

In the end, Ronan’s lungs are okay. He’s advised not to inhale large quantities of dust again. He tells the ER nurse where she can go. It’s all quite civil as far as Ronan’s concerned.

Persephone hugs Ronan as soon as she arrives at the hospital. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around him in a gesture he understands as a thank you. He doesn’t tell her it was no big deal, but he squeezes her back and hopes the message is clear.

Adam’s broken arm, three broken ribs, and moderate concussion are fairly underwhelming as far as structural collapse injuries go. “What did I tell you?” he says that evening when he’s staying awake for more than 30 seconds at a time. “I’m hard to kill.”

No one finds this quite as funny as Adam, but he’s awake and healthy enough to be laughing.

When Greenmantle arrives at the hospital, not twenty minutes before the end of visiting hours, Ronan is fully prepared to drag the man from the room, but Adam stops him. “Actually I’ve been wanting to talk. Please, Mr. Greenmantle. Come sit.” He takes the only seat in the room, facing across from Adam like a business meeting. Adam drops a folder on the stand over his bed. He pulls the papers out and spreads them out. “Here I have copies of my timesheets, dating back to last June with reminders from me to call a contractor about the shed. And you signed off on all these, didn’t you?” Greenmentle nods, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. “What do you think a lawyer would think of these, Mr. Greenmantle?”

“Well, I — uh.”

“But I don’t really want to sue you.” He sweeps the page back up into a file and slips them back into the folder. “This isn’t some sort of moral high ground thing either. I should sue you. I just think we can solve this without any lawyers, don’t you?”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“So what do you say, you sell my friend Ronan your farm and we can all go about our lives.”

“Well I’m sure we can talk about prices, but this particular property is quite valuable. I’ll have to get a fair price for it of course.”

Gansey steps forward, clutching his own folder. This one is red and labeled “Greenmantle can suck my Dick III.”

“Actually we have some numbers here for you, sir.” He shuffles through the papers contained and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. He folds it over and presents it to Greenmantle with a flourish, that is unusually snarky for Gansey. Ronan finds himself charmed by it.

“This is considerably less than I paid, Mr. Gansey.”

Adam clears his throat. “Yes, but let’s pretend I did take you to court. If you look here, this is an estimation of what you’d be paying based on some employer negligence data I found. So all in all, I think you’ll find that to be a very fair price given what you could end up paying.”

“I see…”

“And of course, this way your wife never has to find out about any of this. She didn’t want you spending too much on the property if my memory serves me well.” It’s bold talk from someone who slurred and mumbled his way through the alphabet just a few hours ago, but he’s bouncing back fast. “Sleep on it. Come talk to me again tomorrow.”

Greenmantle shuffles out of the room, clutching the paperwork to his chest. Ronan likes his odds.

The nurse knocks softly on the door. “Visiting hours are ending soon,” she says. “One of you can stay with him overnight if you want, but everyone else needs to head out.” Persephone scoots closer to the bed, wrapping her fingers lightly around Adam’s wrist and Ronan wouldn’t dream of trying to fight her over this.

Ronan pats Adam twice on the leg, a friendly gesture and nothing more, but fingers grip at the hem of his jacket.

“Can I talk to Ronan alone for a minute?” he asks Persephone, who nods quietly and shuffles out with the rest of the crowd. And when it’s quiet and everyone else has become a memory, Ronan pushes himself up onto the side of the bed, leaving little room for Adam to wiggle himself up into a seated position.

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself. Jesus, Parrish. They’re gonna kick me out for good if I knee you in the ribcage.”

“I’m real sorry, Ronan.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize just cause I saved you. I would’ve done it anyway.”

He leans back, petulant as a child. “I’m not. But I went too far and I am sorry.” He grips the blanket like that night under the stars before releasing it again. "What I said about Blue..."

“You weren’t wrong. But I'm gonna do better Parrish. I want to be better.” He watches the way Adam's brow creases and for the first time in a long time, he understands why people keep going when shit sucks. If he’d known that face, scrunched and focused as he chewed on the edge of his swollen lip, was waiting on the other side, he never would’ve considered any other option. This was what people live for, this feeling here. This is what people write poems and songs and fucking dystopian YA trilogies about. There's an entire story in the shit-eating grin. And he found it. The goddamn holy grail. “I just want to see you happy.”

“And that dream thing? You were right," he says. "It turns out I’ve been paddling upstream for nineteen years without ever knowing where the creek drops off.”

“Then you draw your own map and you figure out how to make the water do what you tell it.”

“And what are your big plans, Lynch?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m buying a farm.”

[charissenicolette]

“Dash and Lily” review

If you haven’t watched this series on Netflix, give it a try. The synopsis will probably make you curious about it. It’s based on the YA novel Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. The novel came out in 2011. I read the first book of the series in 2014 or 2015.

It’s been a long time since I last reread it. It’s a simple YA romance novel. If you have read the synopsis of the novel or Netflix series, the story is pretty straightforward. It’s set in New York and the two characters Dash and Lily get to know each other through a red notebook. It’s quite refreshing that they build a bond this way in the age of social media and online dating.

It was nice watching a light Christmas-themed, teen romance series. I remember chatting with a close friend from high school about this. She said that it was not cringy. I can vouch for that. Although it is a Christmas romance, it isn’t annoyingly cheesy and cookie-cutter.

It was interesting to see new faces play the lead characters and their friends. I think this is a good move on Netflix’s part. They just let the holiday theme and the plot draw people to watch.

Out of all the YA novel to (small) screen adaptations I’ve seen so far, I’d say this is the best. The Netflix series did not end up making the story flat. I liked how the subplots, added to the series, gave the story more dimensions. I want to visit New York someday so reading and watching the story captured my interest. The series was shot in the Big Apple so I really liked seeing the city even just through a screen (if I could pick my birthplace, I’d pick New York).

I really liked the book and I was really excited when news broke out that it would be adapted for Netflix viewing. I remember watching the trailer on YouTube and reading comments from people saying, “Christmas a month earlier”; finding it somewhat funny and thinking, “Wait ‘til you see the Philippines!” (that is if times were normal). I don’t understand why this series was dubbed as, “To All the Boys I Loved Before but make it Christmas” because it is far from it (I also liked the TATB book trilogy but I found the Netflix adaptations lacking). It’s a whole different story. But then maybe the comparison came to be because, besides being both YA series, they both are teen love stories that make use of handwritten communication.

I didn’t know that there was a second novel, The Twelve Days of Dash and Lily, until I saw it in a secondhand bookstore and bought a copy in late 2018 (two years after it came out). The third novel Mind the Gap, Dash and Lily came out a few days before the series premiered on Netflix.

I’m looking forward to more seasons. Here’s to hoping that it won’t face a sophomore season slump that most teen series nowadays face. Age rating is 13+ so it’s quite refreshing from the usual teen series nowadays.

[babbushka]

Mrs. Z hope you’re having a fabulous Tuesday! For the zodiac ask can I ask for Aries and Gemini? ✨💕

Hello my dear anon! Thank you so much for asking, I hope you're having a wonderful Tuesday too! :)

aries: when have you felt the most confident in your writing? when have you felt the least confident?

Gosh you know, I don't know if I've ever not felt confident writing, to be honest. This is something that I've been doing for almost 15 years, in one capacity or another (who else got in trouble in 5th grade for hand-writing novels in your composition notebooks instead of paying attention during math? lol). I sometimes get frustrated with myself when stuff isn't working or I have to scrap ideas because they aren't developed enough to more forward with, and that can be discouraging. But most of the time, I am aware enough of my own likes and dislikes both in terms of content and form, that when I write it's usually because I'm so excited and eager to be writing.

But to actually answer the question lmao, the time I felt most confident in my writing is this morning when I saw that god fucking awful PPG leaked script, and the least confident was when I got my first rejection letter lol, which is a low feeling for anyone, I think. But hey, if they greenlit that shitshow of a pilot script, then there's hope for us all yet!

gemini: how often will your plot change throughout the course of writing?

Oooh this is a great question!! I am kind of a stickler for outlines, both in my professional writing and fanfic, because it really helps me stay on course. I get too many ideas all the time lol, and really if I don't have something to hold me accountable, I will change a plot 10000 times!

So I try to get the structure of the story down first along with the basic narrative, and then when I'm writing if things change or new ideas come, I can find a way to work them into the established plot (or, if it doesn't work, then it gets saved for a rainy day to explore in a different story!)

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do you go about implementing notes you've made while editing and reading over your draft? Notes you collect while writing a short story or something small may be one thing, but when you have an enormous novel (or even a series of novels) and you have hundreds and hundreds of words of notes, how on earth do you work through them all? Lmao. I only ask because I'm on my second draft and the notes are still controllable, but are doomed to only get larger lmao.

Organizing & Implementing Notes for Future Drafts

Notes for future drafts can get out of control quickly--trust me, I know from experience! Not only do I make notes while reading through my current draft, I jot down notes on post-its, in notepad files, on printed out timelines and outlines, in my phone, and sometimes even in a notebook I keep on my nightstand.

Organizing Notes

Hand printed notes can be difficult to corral, though I do try to keep post-its attached to printed out pages I’m using for reference (like a calendar or timeline), or if I have my whole story binder out, I’ll put them in that. If I jot something down in my phone or the notebook beside my bed, I try to remember to transfer them to a notepad file. Every WIP has its own folder on my laptop, and every WIP folder has a notes section filed with random notepad documents. I try to give them names that will help me know when/how they’ll be relevant, like “new chapter four idea.” 

Implementing Notes

When I’m about to start a new draft, or if I know I have a bunch of notes for where I’m at in the current draft, the first thing I do is gather all of my notes in one place. This essentially means pulling up the folder with the digital notes and making sure I have all my post-its and hand written notes at hand.

The next thing I do at this point is I start a Word Document and list out the chapters as headers. (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3...) Then, I go through all my notes and input any pertaining to chapter one under the Chapter 1 header. All notes pertaining to chapter two under the Chapter 2 header, and so on. I also try to organize within each header, so notes I know pertain to earlier in the chapter will go at the top of the list, and notes for later in the chapter will go toward the end.

I usually end up having notes that either pertain to the general story, or notes that I’m not sure where they fit in. For general notes, I do a “General Notes” header at the very top, before Chapter 1. For notes I’m not sure about, it depends on how many there are. If there are only a handful, I’ll usually stick them under “general notes” and maybe note what it pertains to in bold beside it, like if it pertains to a particular character or story element. If I have a lot of those kinds of notes, I might end up doing a separate “General Notes” document and instead of chapter headers, use headers that relate to the notes like characters, plot elements, events, story details... whatever things these notes mostly fall under.

As I start work on the next draft, I can first read through the notes under “chapter one” so I can keep them in mind while I write/revise. Then, if I’m working on a particular character or story element, I can go to the “General Notes” and see if there are any notes for that character or element.

This works well for me, so I hope it will work for you, too. If not, hopefully it will help you begin to evolve a process that does work for you! :)

(And, if you’re still building up notes, you can always go ahead and create these documents now and start filing them under the proper headings as you go. ;) )

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