#when i say this is an epic love story on a goofy procedural

[sunflowerdigs]

I watched Under Pressure again, and there's something so sweet and poetic about the way that Buck was initially afraid that Eddie would steal his family and he'd be left out in the cold again. But Buck was brave and he took a chance on Eddie, and now Eddie and Chris have become the family that will never leave him. Eddie has slowly been healing Buck's deepest wound. And, hopefully, in S8, Buck will finally be ready to put the past away and leave some of his abandonment issues behind.

[tlbodine]

What exactly is 'character voice'? Is it merely a character having opinions on things? And how do I have good voice if I am writing in first or third person omnipresent? Do I give the narrator's opinion on things? The character's opinions? The different opinions of the characters?

Voice is a tricky thing to pin down -- a bit of a “know it when you see it” type thing. But I’ll see if I can break it down a bit. 

First: Stories will contain both “authorial voice” and “character voice.” Authorial voice is the individual writing style of the author, and you’ll start to notice it most strongly after you’ve read multiple works by one author. Character voice on the other hand is unique to the character. A strong character voice will often overshadow the author’s voice, which is usually a good thing! It keeps every book you read from an author from sounding the same. If you’re reading a book in first person or close third POV, the narrative should be in the character’s voice. If you’re reading it in a more omniscient POV, the narrative might have a very different voice. Books that alternate POVs might have different voices for different perspectives, so that you could tell who’s speaking even if the chapters weren’t labeled. 

But OK. What makes up Voice in writing? 

Opinions. Characters with a strong voice have opinions about the world, and those opinions color the way they see things. They don’t sit and tell you how they feel, but instead deliver the world through the lens of those opinions.

Focus. What a character chooses to pay attention to vs ignore in the world around them. This gives an underlying glimpse at what is important to them. 

Word Choice. On a structural level, voice comes down to word choice, grammar, syntax, etc. being used with purpose to create a cumulative effect. 

Books without a strong voice sound dry, like a technical manual or book report. They lack any poetic devices or colorful insights.  A strong voice is one that doesn’t sound generic, which means it’s not usually “correct” from, say, a middle school English class perspective. (In fact, some young writers may often butt heads with teachers over the use of voice in writing -- I know I did. Once you get good at it, 

It might just be easier to show this in action than try to explain it so...

Carrie, by Stephen King: 

She had tried to fit. She had defied Momma in a hundred little ways had tried to erase the redplague circle that had been drawn around her from the first day she had left the controlled environment of the small house on Carlin Street and had walked up to the Barker Street Grammar School with her Bible under her arm. She could still remember that day, the stares, and the sudden, awful silence when she had gotten down on her knees before lunch in the school cafeteria -- the laughter had begun on that day and had echoed up through the years. 

Carrie calls her mother “Momma” even in her head, which already implies a lot about her socioeconomic class, upbringing, and intelligence. She didn’t try to fit in, she tried to ‘fit’ -- a non-idiomatic description. The run-on second sentence gives a hint of a racing thought. “Redplague” as one word is evocative and more powerful than a more drawn-out metaphor might be. 

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams 

Mr. L. Prosser was, as they say, only human. In other words he was a carbon-based bipedal life form descended from an ape. More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby, and worked for the local council. Curiously enough, though he didn’t know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr. L. Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and predilection for little fur hats. 

Comedy lives or dies on the strength of its voice, and Douglas Adams is a master at a very specific type of comedy. Here we see it on display. Prosser is an antagonist, and he’s here being described in a way that suggests, without stating outright, that he’s quite pathetic. We open with a cliche saying, and then immediately deconstruct it in a way that’s overly precise -- a technique of absurdism. Then we compare him to Genghis Khan (also a villain, and a very strong one) in a side-by-side parallel that definitely paints Prosser unflatteringly (his genes are “juggled,” a word that evokes clownishness) and the “little fur hats” detail is the icing on the cake -- imagine standing beside Genghis Khan and the ONLY thing you have in common is the hat! (”Predilection” is also a fussy-sounding word. “Stoutness about the tum” sounds like a childishly euphemistic protest, sort of like “big-boned” but dialed up to 11). 

The Cabin at the End of the World, by Paul Tremblay 

Wen’s eighth birthday is in six days. Her dads not so secretly wonder (she has overheard them discussing this) if the day is her actual date of birth or one assigned to her by the orphanage in China’s Hubei Province. For her age she is in the fifty-sixth percentile for height and forty-second for weight, or at least she was when she went to the pediatrician six months ago. She made Dr. Meyer explain the context of those numbers in detail. As pleased as she was to be above the fifty-line for height, she was angry to be below it for weight. Wen is as direct and determined as she is athletic and wiry, often besting her dads in battles of wills and in scripted wrestling matches on their bed. her eyes are a deep, dark brown, with thin caterpillar eyebrows that wiggle on their own. Along the right edge of her philtrum is the hint of a scar that is only visible in a certain light and if you know to look for it (so she is told). The thin white slash is the remaining evidence of a cleft lip repaired with multiple surgeries between the ages of two and four. She remembers the first and final trips to the hospital, but not the ones in between. That those middle visits and procedures have been somehow lost bothers her. Wen is friendly, outgoing, and as goofy as any other child her age, but isn’t easy with her reconstructed smiles. Her smiles have to be earned. 

The thing I love about Tremblay’s writing style is how wonderfully understated it is. At first blush, it seems very straightforward and precise. But the details work to give such a rich image beyond what’s on the page -- like one of those paintings that creates a cat with just like, two brushstrokes of ink. This paragraph is jam-packed with information -- the character’s age, race, adoption, gay parents -- but also illustrates her character indirectly: a kid who is interested in precise numbers, competitive in a specific way, self-conscious, skeptical. Little lines really stand out, like “caterpillar eyebrows” and “reconstructed smiles.” 

Horrorstor, by Grady Hendrix 

It was dawn, and the zombies were stumbling through the parking lot, streaming toward the massive beige box at the far end. Later they’d be resurrected by megadoses of Starbucks, but for now they were the barely living dead. Their causes of death differed: hangovers, nightmares, strung out from epic online gaming sessions, circadian rhythms broken by late-night TV, children who couldn’t stop crying, neighbors partying til 4 a.m., broken hearts, unpaid bills, roads not taken, sick dogs, deployed daughters, ailing parents, midnight ice cream binges. 

But every morning, five days a week (seven during the holidays), they dragged themselves here, to the one thing in their lives that never changed, the one thing that they could count on come rain, or shine, or dead pets, or divorce: work. 

This is the opening of the book, and it does a perfect job of setting the tone for the story -- a combination of humor and horror, a lighthearted touch on a really dismal subject. Like the Douglas Adams example, it relies on an excess of hyper-specific detail to create comedy through absurdism. Describing the store they wrok at as a “massive beige box” says a lot -- beige is a boring color, box is a boring shape (and implies constraint, the opposite of “think outside the box” etc.) Calling the workers “zombies” and using zombie words (”stumbling”, “streaming”) invokes a specific set of concepts -- mindlessness, for starters, and death -- and using that to describe going to a job certainly implies something about what it’s like to go to work, right? This paragraph could just come outright and say “work is soul-sucking and pointless and takes you away from things that are important” but it illustrates that instead. A perfect example of “show don’t tell” in action. 

Hopefully that gives a bit more illustration to what I’m talking about. As you read, pay attention to the way things are said and how that varies from one book to the next, and you’ll get a better intuition for voice (and learn to craft your own through practice). 

Some general tips/things to think about when creating strong voice for your narrative and characters: 

Education and socioeconomic level of the characters. A professor will talk differently from a car mechanic; a college graduate sounds different from an elementary school student; an inner-city black teen will use words differently from a New England socialite. Think about what kind of background a character has and choose vocabulary and syntax that makes sense for them. 

Evocative descriptions. Words come with baggage, and good writing puts that baggage to use to create a meaning stronger than what’s on the page. Precision with language, not just what words mean but what they imply, is the hallmark of good writing. 

Words used uniquely -- in other words, avoiding cliches and descriptions we’ve seen before in favor of creating new word combinations that do the heavy lifting of the previous bullet point. 

Hopefully that helps! 

[katehuntington]

Title: I Can See Clearly Now Fandom: Supernatural (season 1) Characters: Dean Winchester (POV), Sam Winchester, Y/N Pairing: Dean x female feader Words: ± 5550 words Description: After a falling out, the Winchester brothers are on the road trying to find Y/N, who has taken on hunts alone. Then Dean gets a disturbing phone call and he needs to move fast if he wants to save the her life. Warnings: Angst! Adult language, canon typical violence, description of blood and injury. Speeding/on the phone while driving. Panic, crying. Description of medical procedures. Possible character death. Author’s note: This is a rewrite from an earlier one shot. I changed it to Dean’s point of view and I hope it captivates you all even more! Thank you, @mrswhozeewhatsis for being my super skilled Beta and helping me with this story. Thanks to you it really came full circle.

      “I just don’t understand why you can’t pick up the phone and call her.”       I ignore Sam, keeping my gaze fixed on the road ahead, as raindrops run up the windshield, trying to find the way of least resistance. Unintentionally, I clench my jaw, after which I sigh, frustrated. It’s not the first time he brought it up. Apparently my pain in the ass little brother can’t take a hint. You would assume that ‘college boy’ is able to pick up on my annoyed glares and awkward silences, or maybe he just chooses to dismiss them. I’m not sure which one is more stupid. 

      Trying to come off as casual and uninterested, I stare past the window wipers, which squeak every time the blades unblurs the glass. Then I shake my head slightly, both disagreeing and as a warning.       “We talked about this. I’m not calling her,” I state. “She made it clear that she needs to be alone.”       “Are you that blind?! Don’t you know her by now?!” Sam exclaims.       “No, I don’t, Sam! How can I if she keeps lying all the time?!” I can’t help but to raise my voice and I bite my tongue afterwards. It happens a lot these days, that I’m unable to keep my emotions in check, especially now that she ran for the hills.

      Over the last couple of months, Sammy and I grew closer to the young huntress, closer than we should have. Not that she made it easy for us, because she acted like a total bitch at first. In the beginning I thought she hated my guts, with her fighting me on every decision I made. But fate would have it that when shit hit the fan, Sam and I were there to catch her. So we teamed up and hunted together. The Three Stooges, the Musketeers. The good, the bad, and the ugly, Sam being the ugly one of course. We became more than just colleagues, more than just acquaintances. We became friends; we became family.

      I let that fundamental word echo through my mind as I ponder. It means a hell of a lot; I don’t go around calling anyone that. You gotta earn that title. Bobby Singer once told me, ‘Family don’t end in blood.’ I don’t think I fully understood what he meant, until Y/N became a part of our team. Sammy found a sister he never knew he wanted, a study buddy, a fellow nerd who he could get excited with over serial killer hauntings and prehistoric books. 

And I... I found someone I never expected to find: someone who brings out the best in me and makes me feel things I thought I wouldn’t be capable of, not after all the literal horror I’ve witnessed in my lifetime of hunting. I found a goofy kid who laughs at my lame jokes, a girl with an appetite of a trucker and the ability to drink me under the table. I found a rock chick who loves Zep and AC/DC and adores my car as much as I do. I found the woman who puts family first, is kind and generous, and never ceases to help others in need.

     You know what? I’m just gonna say it: I found the woman I’m in love with.

      Things were good between us. It must have been a month ago when I first kissed her. I downed five shots before I could muster up the courage, and still I found shooting a charging werewolf the night before less scary. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve kissed plenty of girls, but she isn’t just any chick. This was Y/N, and I really didn’t want to fuck it up. We hooked up several times, and it was always either epic or awesome. Despite that we were taking it easy, I fell hard for her.       Deep down, I always had this itch that she didn’t tell me the whole story. There was something she kept hidden. Little things gave her away. Short, almost unnoticeable hesitations. Starting a sentence by questioningly calling my name, and then dismissing it with a ‘never mind’. I never really pushed her, figuring that she would tell me when she was ready. It never got to that point, though. A week ago, the unthinkable happened.

      After almost a year of searching, the one person who we’ve been looking for stepped into our motel room: Dad. But the air in the room changed the second he laid eyes on Y/N, who didn’t hesitate to pull her gun on him. After a heated discussion with weapons drawn like in an old spaghetti western, the truth finally surfaced. Apparently Dad was working with Y/N’s parents, when a plan backfired and killed them both. Even though Dad was her guardian, he left Y/N at an orphanage. Since then, she had made it her life-long mission to get revenge. The easiest way to find Dad was to latch on to his sons. Every hunter has a justification to sign up for this life; John Winchester was hers.

      “She had a reason,” Sammy mentions, as if he could tell what was on my mind just now.       “You mean Dad?” I assume with a tone.       “He shouldn’t have left her like that. That’s all I’m saying.”       A silence follows as we both continue to stare into the darkness beyond Baby’s headlights.       “No, he shouldn’t have,” I agree, after several quiet seconds.       Surprised by that conclusion, Sam frowns. I can almost hear him thinking: did Dean just admit that Dad did something wrong?       “I’m not saying that what she did was a-okay. She still used us,” I correct.       “I don’t think she did,” my younger brother disagrees. “Y/N desperately tried to stay away from us, remember that? She was mean, you two were clawing each other’s eyes out...” The both of us smile faintly at that. “But somehow, we still stuck together, and it’s a good thing we did, because we all would have ended up dead without each other.”

      Sammy isn’t wrong there. Even two weeks ago, Y/N only just saved me from getting hanged by a poltergeist in an old hotel in Gold Canyon, Arizona. I remember waking up in the dust, noose still around my neck and her beautiful face above me, scared tears in her eyes after which she kissed me deeply.

      “Y/N wants us there, Dean,” Sam snaps me from my thoughts. “We need to back her up.”       “She’s the one who left, Sam,” I remind him, burdened.       A semi rushes by on the other lane. Its headlights blind me and illuminate Sam’s face, after which the light fades again as the Mack passes. The wipers shoot from right to left and back, offering me some kind of visual.

      “She thinks we’re still mad. She held Dad at gunpoint. I kinda get why she doesn’t think we can get back to how things were.”       “Who says we can?” I bring to mind.       Sam stares at me, his jaw dropped.       “You’re still holding a grudge? Seriously? He left her at a fucking orphanage, Dean! She grew up in seven different foster homes!”       “Does Dad sound like the kinda person who would just up and leave a kid he was responsible for?” I argue, feeling the anger starting to boil again.       “He did the same to us.”

      Sam eyes me coldly from his corner between the front bench and the door of the Impala. He has his arms crossed, his hair hanging before his eyes and everything about him says that he’s not going to agree with me. For a second I consider stomping the breaks and giving my brother a lecture, but instead I shoot him a glare.

      “Watch your mouth, Sam,” I warn, my tone low. “Dad never left for longer than a month. He did the best he could.”       “You were ten, Dean!” Sam exclaims. “And he expected you to take care of a six-year old kid!”       “And it didn’t turn out so bad, now did it?!” I shut him up. “Have you considered that maybe he wanted to spare Y/N this life? That that’s the reason why he left her at the orphanage?!”       “Bang up job on that,” my brother huffs.

      I hate it. I hate that a part of me agrees with Sammy. And so I don’t respond and let him win this argument, if there is such a thing as winning today. Contemplating, I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, pressing my prints into the leather. I’ve always lived in a black and white world. Monsters are evil, people are innocent. Kill the evil, save the innocent. Simple rules, straight-forward orders. I do what Dad tells me to do, because he’s the leader of this pack and he’s always right, right? 

     That’s the thing, I don’t know anymore. Dad forbid us from hanging with Y/N, because the girl they care so much for, holds him accountable for her fucked up childhood. No matter how you look at it, it’s an shitty situation that is forcing both me and my brother to pick a side.

      “Maybe creating some distance ain’t a bad idea. This business doesn’t allow us to be social. The more people we care about, the more people die,” I say, breaking the awkward silence.       “So what, you wish we’d never met her? That’s what you’re saying?” my brother scoffs.       “No, Sam! I’m saying that I’m worried. I’m worried that this - this, whatever this is, will split our family up!”  Frustrated I accelerate, despite the slippery wet asphalt.

      “Look, Dean…” Sam lets the air flow off his lips, struggling to ease it on me. “I know there’s more going on between you and Y/N--”       I roll my eyes. “Oh, here we go.”       “I know that Dad got in your head when he ordered us to stay away from her. I heard him say that she’s an enemy of this family… She isn’t, though. She’s a part of this family. She’s more to you, I can see it in the way you look at her. Plus, motel walls are thin.”       I can’t help but to smirk at that. Seems like we woke someone up after I snuck to her room on several occasions.       “All jokes aside, you love her, Dean.”       I freeze, then manage to open my mouth in order to respond to that, but Sammy beats me to it. Thankfully, because I’m sure ‘I do not!’ would have gotten a good laugh.       “You don’t have to say anything, I don’t need a confirmation from you to know that it’s true. But before you close that door, think about how precious that is,” he explains. “I had that kind of love with Jess and I lost it. I would do anything to get that back. Think it through before you let her go, that’s all I’m saying.”

      “We’ll locate her, make sure she’s okay, then we go from there. Who knows, maybe we can work this out. But you can’t expect me to choose her over Dad, Sam,” I add, when I see a hopeful spark in my brother’s eyes.       “I‘m not. But I do think that now would be the time to start having a mind of your own,” he suggests.       “I’m here trying to find her, ain’t I? Dad would kill me if he knew,” I remind him.

      Our father was against this little rescue mission and I knew that going down this road will put a big dent in his trust. On the flip side, letting Y/N run off in the state of mind that she was in, feels wrong too. What if something snatches her and we’re not there to back her up? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.       Suddenly my Metallica ringtone reverberates through the car; someone is ringing my cell. Who the hell would call at this hour?        I take my phone out of my pocket and check the display, then my heart stops. An eerie sensation fills my stomach and creeps up my throat. She wouldn’t casually call, not after that clash three days ago.       I pick up hastily. “Y/N?”       “Dean…”       It’s her all right, but a peculiar fear causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up when I hear her say my name. The fear that surfaces whenever Sammy’s in trouble, or Dad is. Hearing the sound of her voice isn’t as comforting as I hoped it would be. It’s weak, trembling, almost a whisper. I immediately know something is off.

      “Are you okay?”       “No – no, I’m not,” she cries. “Dean…”       I close my eyes for a split second, then stare down the road again. Fuck. She just admitted that she’s not okay. It has to be bad, otherwise she wouldn’t… Fuck! I swallow down a lump in my throat and glance aside at my brother, who stares back and instantly reads that something bad has happened.       “Are you hurt?” I ask, worried.       She doesn’t actually answer my question, but I can hear her respiration, breaths hitching with every inhale; she’s in pain.       “I need your help.”       “Where are you?” I ask quickly, not wanting to waste any time.       “Lincoln… 1722 Tremont, in an empty warehouse,” she answers with difficulty.

      I look over my shoulder and only need a split second to read the sign beside the road; Lincoln is the other way. With my phone pressed between my shoulder and my ear, I hit the brakes hard and turn the wheel completely to the left with both hands. Baby slips and makes a 180° as Sam holds on for dear life. When we’re facing the road to Lincoln, I push the gas pedal down completely. With shrieking tires my car catches grip on the slippery asphalt again and races away, fishtailing, leaving a trail of burned rubber. I take the phone back in my hand, speeding up to a hundred miles an hour.       “Listen to me, Y/N. You’re gonna keep talking to me, okay? Whatever you do, don’t close your eyes, understand?” I beg her.       Whimpers from the other side; she’s crying. I’m mentally kicking myself for letting her go in the first place, my heart breaking as I listen to her despair.       “Hey now, it’s okay… It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right there,” I hush her, trying to tone down my own anxiety to a minimum.       “I’m sorry, for leaving and… and the fight with your dad.”       “That doesn’t matter right now, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure this out, just like we always do,” I promise.

      It’s quiet on the other side, but I can hear the blood rushing through my veins. As I push Baby to her limits, I send up a short prayer to the God I don’t believe in. Anything that helps.       “Dean, if this...” she sobs. “If this is it, you need to know that I--”       “- No, no, no, no, no. Don’t you dare start that goodbye shit, you hear me?” I interrupt, harshly, but regretting my tone the second I can practically hear the tears fall. “You can tell me later, alright? It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”       My eyes have filled with tears over the course of the conversation, but I blink them away, nowhere near ready to admitting that this might be the last conversation I ever have with her. She has to be okay. There is no other option, I’m not gonna accept an outcome that is anything less.       “Please hurry.”       “I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart. Only ten minutes behind you,” I tell her. “Did you call an ambulance?”       “No, I can’t…” Her voice fades, getting weaker by the second, but she’s able to whisper. “They’re still here.”

      It feels like someone just knocked the wind from my lungs. Holy shit, this won’t be just a rush to hospital. Is she kept hostage? Maybe they left her for dead, for bait maybe?       “What are they, Y/N?”       But she doesn’t answer. The only thing I can hear is the constant distortion from the phone connection.       “Y/N?”       Nothing.       “Y/N! Answer me!” I yell into the phone.       Not a word, not even the sound of respiration. Frustrated, I throw my phone in the back seat and step on the gas even harder, although Baby can’t go any faster.       “FUCK!!!” I cuss out loud as I slam the steering wheel.

      The Impala dangerously speeds up I55. Anxiety is jolting through every nerve, mixing with multiple feelings I can’t even begin to explain. Sam watches me, I can feel his gaze burn in the side of my head. Only for a moment, I glance at him, about to explain to him what’s going on, but I can’t. If I say it out loud, I acknowledge that this is happening. 

      Sammy’s eyes are wild, apparently not sure what question to ask first.       “She got caught?” he asks, scared.       “No, she called to make me an offer on better cable!” I snap sarcastically, going out of my mind. “Yeah, she got caught!”       “You know what snatched her?” he interrogates.       “I would have told you if I knew, Sam!”

      From the corner of my eye I can see Sam swallow hard. It’s doesn’t happen often that I lash out like this, I hope he understands. I’m glad that he doesn’t push any further, because a lump the size of a brick obstructs my throat as my mouth runs dry. 

     You stupid, stupid idiot. 

     How could I have let her go like that? Lecturing myself won’t help her, but I can’t stop the guilt from boiling over inside of me. I need to save her. It’s the only way to make this right.

      Without switching on the turn signal, I take the exit and skid through the tight corner. At the following intersection I run a red light, a station wagon swerving out of the way, but I don’t give a shit. I don’t care for a speed bump either, but when the exhaust pipe hits the asphalt as my car bounces off the damn thing and leaves a spray of sparks in our wake. I give the dashboard a pat. Sorry, Baby.

      “What do we prepare for?”       Sam looks at me, waiting for my lead. It’s a solid question, because I have no idea what we’ll be facing. I go over the handful of clues: cattle mutilations, several dead, bled out bodies. They are all omens, but we weren’t tracking a case, we were tracking Y/N. I didn’t study the signs well enough to judge them, so I shrug desperately. Fuck, I wish I had paid more attention.       “I don’t know… uh, werewolf, demon?” I shoot, panicky, but then I remember something that she mentioned. “They are still here.”       “What?”       “The last thing she said; they are still here,” I repeat. “We’re talking about more than one, that gives us something. Whatever this is, they’re working as a team. Demons? Vamps?”       “Holy water and dead man’s blood it is,” Sammy concludes, as I take a left, barely slowing down.

      We approach a more remote section of town. Old rigs and factories tower over us, some of the buildings still in use, others empty. Tremont, it says on the corner of the narrow street; this is it. With no time to lose I reach over in the glove department to get my flask of Holy water. Sam quickly opens the door, the pouring rain hitting him as soon as gets out. My wise little brother heads to the trunk to get armored up, but I can’t wait for that. As he digs through the weapons, I bolt towards the factory.       “Dean! What the hell?!” I hear Sammy exclaim.       “You take everything out of the trunk that might come in handy, I’ll go find Y/N!” I tell him, without awaiting a response.       “Wait! You can’t go in like that!” my brother objects.       But I don’t listen. I don’t give a rat’s ass that I don’t have back up, that I’m going in blind. With my gun pulled out, I approach a door with white numbers; 1722. My own heartbeat drums in my ears, fast and restless, as I hold my weapon in front of me, finger off the trigger, but ready to point and shoot at anything that isn’t Y/N. With a fierce kick I free the door from its hinges and scan the place, holding my flashlight above my pistol.       “Y/N!!”        No answer, just the echo of my own voice sounding through the high empty spaces, only disturbed by the rain on the roof. In a fast, yet careful pace I move further, but then halt, startled. On the floor, only a few feet away, the light shimmers on a body, motionless, just a pile of human. The sound that erupts from my throat is one I don’t recognize to be mine.       “NO!!!”

      I hasten towards her and crouch down. I knew she was in trouble when I heard her fragile voice, but her state shocks me to the core. She lays face down in her own blood, and I force myself to stop shaking as I carefully turn her over. In her left hand I find a cell phone, 911 is still on the line. Quickly, I take the device and put it to my ear.       “Hello? Anyone there?”       “This is Ali from 9-1-1 emergency. There’s an ambulance on its way over to the Tremont intersection, sir. Can you tell me who you are?”       Smart girl. She called for help, but made sure we would find her first, not wanting to lead the helpless first responders into this dangerous place. I wipe her hair out of her face, cupping it with my left hand. Fuck, she feels cold. It heightens my fear to a new degree.       “I just found her, hurry up!” I tell the woman on the phone, desperately.       “A medical team is on its way, sir. They are just a few minutes out.”       “She doesn’t have a few minutes!” I exclaim.       “Does she show any signs of life?”       I check her pulse, but the outcome almost stops my own heart.        “No, no, no. She’s not breathing…” I notify the dispatcher, in shock. “C’mon, Y/N… Not like this.”

      I want to panic. I want to shake her, yell at her to wake up. I hear 9-1-1 emergency in the background, instructing me to perform CPR if I know how. But as I look down at her face, I notice something out of the ordinary. The operator’s static voice fades out as a beam from the streetlights outside is interrupted. I looks over my shoulder, watching Sam rush towards me.       “Vampires!!” I shout, my hand blocking the blood flowing from Y/N’s main vein through a set of bite marks.

      Just in time, because my younger brother can only just intercept an attack from above by one of the creatures, right before it releases its teeth on him. A second and a third appear from the dark and Sammy pulls out his machete. We both look around in disbelief while more vamps show themselves. I swallow hard; we walked right into a fucking nest!

      “Get her out of here!” Sammy shouts above the noise of struggle.       Not wasting time, I pick up her lifeless body from the ground and carry her to the exit, while my brother covers us. I try to ignore the blood that is dripping down my arms when I run out of the factory, the soaking rain drenching us the second we’re exposed to the elements. As fast as my legs can carry us, I hasten towards the main street. I have to get her to that ambulance. They can get her to the hospital and doctors will save her, right? I have to try. 

But when I glance down at that gorgeous face under the dreary skies and cold streetlights, I stop. By the sight of the girl I lost my heart to, I know. She has turned stone cold, there’s no blood left in her body, eyes slightly opened and pupils dilated. Her head bobbles over my arm limply, her messy hair stained with blood, hanging sadly in the rain.

      “Y/N?”

      Honestly I don’t know why I call her name. I know she can’t hear me, I know she’s… I pull in a shuddering breath, the glint of hope I had crushed by reality. I’ve seen death from up close plenty of times before, I know its face. And right now as I’m holding her in my arms, I see it, too. I swallow apprehensively while my bottom lip trembles as I exhale.       “No, no, no…” I whimper. “God, please no… Y/N, please!”       I just stand there until my knees buckle, with my girl in my arms, dead weight. Helpless and broken I close my eyes and look up at the sky, hoping for a miracle, a sign from above, anything. I’m so desperate that I’m even asking God for help, the man upstairs who has never done me any favors. Nothing happens, nothing changes. And so I pull her into my chest as I let my tears run free, resting my forehead to hers.

     My sweetheart, she’s gone… And I didn’t even get to say it, how much I care for her. On the phone earlier, I shouldn’t have interrupted her when I got too scared of what possibly laid ahead. Jesus, why didn’t I let her speak? Why did I let her go? This is all my fault.

      I rake my fingers through her hair and pull her into my chest for the last time, when a familiar sound catches my attention. Sirens grow louder, and when I direct my attention to the road ahead, an ambulance speeds around the corner and stops in front of us with shrieking tires. Two paramedics get out.       “Sir, I need you to lay her down,” one tells me, as he positions the backboard. “Did you find her?”       “Yeah, she was in the middle of the street.” I lie, continuing her plan to keep the first responders away from the danger in the warehouse.       The paramedics work fast, quickly hooking her up to a monitor.       “No pulse. No respiratory sounds.”       “Push 1 milligram of epi,” his partner responds as he starts compressions.

      It hurts to watch them work her chest so hard, putting in lines and drugs to get her back. She can’t feel it, I know she can’t, but it seems wrong. The monitor shows a flat line and a continuous beep interrupts the silence on scene. I back out and let them work, although I slowly begin to grasp that it’s pointless. Then I glance over my shoulder at the warehouse, torn between Y/N and my brother. I know I need to get in there and back Sam up, there’s nothing I can do for her anymore.       “Where you taking her?” I ask before I leave, my voice broken.       “Lincoln Medical Center,” the paramedic answers, before I make a run for it. “Hey! Where are you going? Sir!”       I don’t have the time to linger and hasten back to the warehouse. As I run, I take the bullets out of my Colt M1911, rubbing them in my bloody hands; that should teach those fuckers. With every step that I move away from Y/N, hate and anger multiplies, racing my veins like a deserted road. I’m gonna kill every single one of those bloodsuckin’ bitches, even if it’s the last thing I do. 

     Determined, I reload my gun and enter the large building, right in time to shoot one of the vampires from Sam’s back before it sinks its teeth into his neck. While I march in, I take out a knife, swipe the tip across the ground though the puddle of blood that Y/N left behind, and bury it in the guts of a creature who was coming at me. The thing looks me in the eye in shock, her injury stopping her mid action, choking with her mouth open and teeth visible. Driven by revenge I push the knife in deeper, fury causing my lip to twitch as I stare her down.       “Dead girl’s blood, bitch,” I snarl and then pull out the knife.

      The vamp falls down on the ground and tries to crawl away, but she can’t get far, completely paralyzed by the toxins running through her body. Another vampire picks her up from the floor and quickly flees. Sammy - out of breath and covered in blood splatters, caused by the messy beheadings - picks up the machete that he lost in the fight, ready to chop off heads if anything dares to come closer. Two well-armed and skilled hunters are enough reason for the rest of the nest to pull back and get the hell out of dodge. In a matter of seconds we are the only ones in the abandoned warehouse, alone in the dark.

      With questioning eyes, Sammy seeks eye contact, but I avert mine in time. Instead I stare down at my bloody hands, still holding the knife. Silently I put it away as my gaze freezes on the puddle of blood left by Y/N, watching my own reflection. Her blood worked, it intoxicated the vampires and turned out to be highly effective. Only the blood of the dead can do that. The fact that it harmed our opponents means only one thing. When I finally dare to meet my brother’s gaze and let him be a witness of the devastation, Sam knows. 

      Staggered, shocked and unable to act, Sammy folds his hands behind his head as he turns away from me. When he has gone full circle, I can see the tears shimmer in his eyes through his brown hair. I can’t stand the sight of my little brother being so upset, so I wander a few steps away. My hands are clenched in fists of rage, but it is not just anger I feel. Guilt, helplessness, desperation, sorrow. And this gaping hole that only grows larger with every loved one I lose. I lost her... I fucking lost her!

     Furious and out of control, I take my frustration out on two garbage cans. Raging, I kick them over and let out a loud tormented cry. I can feel Sam’s eyes on me, unable to respond. He’s speechless, but the sorrow in his expression tells more than words could ever say.

     I calm down, but only because the outburst doesn’t help me one bit. And so I place my hands in my side and swallow with difficulty, out of breath from boiling over. I can feel my eyes glaze over, but I don’t bother to turn away from Sam. I try to be his tough brother, someone he can look up to. A grown man crying doesn’t fit into that picture. But right now, I couldn’t give a shit who sees the tears that begin to roll down my cheeks, as I stare at the crimson pool in front of me.

      My younger sibling snivels, breathes in deeply and collects himself.      “We - uh…” his voice fails him completely, catching him off guard. He swallows and clears his throat. “We better clean this mess up, before the police get here.”       I just nod, numbed by the pain.

      It takes a couple of extra seconds before either of us actually gets to work. Without saying another word we cover our tracks. A thousand questions dwell on my mind, but those questions will remain unanswered. Hundreds of ‘what if's’, even more ‘if only’s’. What if I had stayed with her? Would she be smiling opposite of me in a small booth of the local diner right now? Did she love me? That was what she tried to say over the phone, wasn’t it? Why the hell did I cut her off? Why the hell didn’t I tell her first? How could I promise her that it was gonna be okay? I didn’t say enough and yet too much, unspoken words and broken promises. Did she know how I felt?

     You fucking coward, I think to myself. This is exactly what you deserve.

      These are only a handful of thoughts that cross my mind as we clean up the carnage. The lack of answers will weigh on my shoulders for as long as I live. Not knowing is horrible, but the reality that is her death, makes it all so much worse. I can’t find solace in self-hatred, not in the vampire corpses as we get rid of the bodies, not in the sudden change of the weather when we exit the building. 

     I’ve reached my car already when I realize that the rain has stopped falling. I take a moment to look up at the stars that peek from behind the passing clouds, bright against the dark night sky. Minutes ago it was pouring, but now everything is clear. Tonight, Sammy and I lost our friend, our family. Tonight, I lost the woman I love.

      There, I said it: I love you, Y/N.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if  you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work  or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

[tinamaetales]

Who is the real stranger?

I know I’ve already posted a blog about Doctor Stranger but I just can’t help but write another one and this time I would like to discuss each of the characters’ impact (somehow?) on me. This is more like a reflective approach on it. I’ll try my best to communicate my ideas properly...please bear with me.

And also, this is full of spoilers

As I’ve discussed before, Doctor Stranger is a medical-romance drama with Dr. Park Hoon (portrayed by Lee Jong Suk) as the main character. The story revolves around him trying to find his great love whom he lost contact with years ago and at the same time surviving the “politics” in the hospital.

For me though, the characters are strangers in their own right.

Dr. Park Hoon. In North Korea (where he and his father were ‘kidnapped’), he is a great cardiothoracic surgeon. Although during this times you can feel that he only became one because he had no choice; seems like there’s always a gun pointed towards his head each time he did a surgery. He’s great, no doubts with that but the “passion” for what he’s doing is not there. Events happened and his life turned upside down again: his father died, he lost contact with Jae Hee and he finally went back to his original home, South Korea. 

On the next episode we can see that from the serious and kinda snobby genius cardiothoracic surgeon, Park Hoon became a goofy but penniless Doctor. Heck, he even ended up in jail one time. It seems like he almost lost everything, but one thing remained, his profession — him being a doctor. 

Being desparate in reuniting with his true love, Hoon does everything in order to earn money...even if it means he has to work as a surgeon at the hospital where his father used to work before they were kidnapped. Despite having money as his motivation to work, Hoon does his best in order to make sure that he saves the lives of his patient.....even if it means going against a lot of hospital protocol #ThugLife. 

Park Hoon is a stranger because most of the time he loses his translation as to why he really did become a doctor.

Dr. Han Jae Joon. His introduction to the show was epic: we can see him doing a surgery and being so good at it (right at that moment I knew that he will be a tough competitor of Park Hoon). He got his medical degree from Harvard University. Also, he’s got great people on his surgical team. Although great at being a surgeon, you can still feel that something is “off” with him. Most of the time, he’s “cold” One thing that you would notice is the fact that he has a lot of “toy figures” of tall buildings; the biggest was a castle. Often, he is seen putting blocks on that castle; he says it helps him concentrate and train for his surgery. Another shady thing about him is his closeness towards the daughter of Myung Woo hospital chairman. 

Jae Joon is a stranger because his hidden agenda is stronger than his willingness to fulfill his duties as a doctor.

Dr. Han Seung Hee. The woman who looks a lot like Jae Hee. She came from Myung Woo hospital’s branch but was then later transferred to the main hospital because of her skills. She’s an an anesthesiologist; she later became a part of Dr. Park Hoon’s team. It was then later revealed that she’s actually Jae Hee and is currently under a secret mission.

Seung Hee is a stranger too, and I think it’s for the same reasons as Jae Joon although their intentions differ. 

Dr. Oh Soo Hyun. She’s the daughter of the chairman of Myung Woo hospital. She’s also from the cardiothoracic department. I would like to refer to her as a prisoner, someone who despite having it all in life (she’s rich, has a good career, etc...) something else is still missing and those things are what make her a prisoner for she earns for that freedom to be free in order to get that “missing” aspect. She’s a prisoner of her father’s standards. I really do think that she only became a doctor just so she can please her father. She’s a prisoner of her career....yes, she’s a caring doctor, but is that what she really wanted? She’s a prisoner of love because that’s what she longs for.

She’s a stranger, too.

Dr. Moon. Or as Dr. Park Hoon calls him, “master”. He used to be the head of the cardiology department until Jae Joon comes along and proved that he is better than the former. Dr. Moon, despite being a doctor for a long time is a stranger too for his desire to become the head of the department is stronger than fulfilling his duties to his patient. 

Dr. Yang. The most obvious stranger in this series. He’s a doctor yet he does dirty things for the sake of money. And that’s how I know he’s a stranger.

All of them are strangers but as the story progresses, we can see the change in them and how they grow into becoming real doctors. But my favorite and the one I would discuss more is the case of Dr. Park Hoon and Dr. Han Jae Joon.

Fire and Ice. Left and Right. Vertical and Horizontal. A Tale of two great Doctors. A Tale of two Strangers.

Dr. Park Hoon and Dr. Han Jae Joon are both great thoracic surgeons, their medical records are a living proof of that. Both of them are great in their own right. I would’ve love this drama more if the focus is on the story of this two great doctors and how they are able to transform from being strangers to fully embracing their roles as a doctor (because I somehow felt like the romance part is kinda forced in here....no offense).

What made them go side by side is the competition set up by the hospital’s chariman and whoever wins will conduct the surgery of the Prime Minister (which was later found out to be a surgery for the President and the PM was just a cover up)

Let’s put them side by side.

Fire and Ice.

Park Hoon’s cheerful and friendly while Jae Joon’s a bit distant, cold and serious most of the time. The two are really different in their personalities and I guess it’s where they came from that made them that way. Although I really felt like Hoon should also be distant and cold because of the things he went through before: Park Hoon was kidnapped together with his father to another country; he witnessed the love of his life, Jae Hee, being taken by the authorities because of a “crime” related to her father; he witnessed his father dying at the hands of the authorities; he tried saving Jae Hee but he failed; he found himself back in South Korea and ended up close to being broke. Despite all of these, Hoon became a cheerful, friendly, funny and sometimes playful person. While on the other hand, we have Jae Joon who also has a dark past. His father died because of a medical malpractice committed by Myung Woo hospital and since the administration of the hospital lead by Chairman Oh (Soo Hyun’s father) does not want to own up for their mistakes, he vowed revenge on them. He created a plan on how to bring Myung Woo down and it should start with him being a great doctor....being so great that he would end up getting the position of the chairman and from then on he will bring Myung Woo down (referring to the castle he used to ‘play’ with.... one has to enter the castle first and once inside, it will be easier to destroy it). 

Left and Right. 

They have different motivations; Hoon is being motivated to work in order to earn money that he will use to find his great love while Jae Joon is being motivated by his desire to make the people responsible for the death of his parents pay. Those motivations of theirs affected the way they handled their patients — in some cases. 

I guess out of all the patients they’ve handled during their “competition” the most prominent example of how different Hoon and Jae Joon are is with their final round patient. In here, Jae Joon’s patient is a 20 something year old woman while Hoon’s patient is a 40 year old man. Both patients require the same procedure although they somehow differ in their situation; Jae Joon’s patient will get married soon and she plans on having a baby but undergoing a surgery would prevent her from conceiving a child, on the other, hand Hoon’s patient does not have any further issues. Since it’s the final round of the competition, both Doctors are aggressive to win however this round also shows the “real” doctor.....the woman can live without undergoing the procedure (that is at least until she can have her baby? I’m not quite sure in this part though) however if the surgery won’t push through, Jae Joon will lose the competition....so Hoon decided to raise the white flag: at the last minute he exchanged patient with Jae Joon and since the woman is now his patient he decided not to push through with the surgery, thus showing that he truly cares for his patient’s whole well being...even if it means putting himself at risk.

Another example that I would like to use is when Dr. Oh’s mother needed a surgery however it was already obvious that such surgery has a very low percent chance of being successful. Jae Joon who cares more about his “reputation” and “standing” at the hospital declined on doing the surgery while Hoon decided to push through. The patient died during the surgery, but at least Hoon showed that he didn’t give up on his patient, right? There was a committee held in order for Hoon to explain his actions and he answered with  “It’s a doctor’s duty to perform surgery even with one percent chance of success” YASS!! YOU GO THERE BABE! Anyway, he then continue to explain himself by saying: “Is a doctor only supposed to operate on patients with a high rate of success? There are people who want and ask us to save those patients! Is a doctor someone who gives up on surgery and leaves the patient to die?” Do I need to explain this further? 

I think It is already obvious that Hoon despite claiming that money is his motivation, he really truly cares about his patients. Jae Joon on the other hand also cares for his patient (I know deep down that he cares!) but he’s just being blinded by his plan of seeking revenge. However, there is also one instance that the situation reversed, when it was Jae Joon that was more willing to save a patient’s life (even at the expense of his career at Myung Woo) than Hoon.  

All I’ve discussed so far are the “heroic” deeds of Dr. Park Hoon thus putting Dr. Han Jae Joon into the dark side however as just recently mentioned, there is one event that it was Jae Joon who acted as a real doctor than Hoon and it was on their supposed second round patient. That patient’s life was put in danger because of some mistake committed by the surgery team of the internal med department and since Hoon knows how to correct it, he wanted to do the surgery himself. However since the patient’s from a different department they have to get the permission of that department first. Anyway, long story short, Chairman Oh decided that whoever wanted to do the surgery will lose; so if Jae Joon will do it, then it means the competition’s over since he already lose the first round while Hoon on the other hand has the advantage and so he agrees to do the surgery thus making the competition tied. But since this is the drama world the story does not end there. Hoon was threatened that something will happen to his precious Jae Hee (I’m really not a fan of their love story; I prefer Hoon with Soo Hyun #QuackCouple). So in the end, Jae Joon decided to push through with the surgery. This is the time when I said to myself, told ya he’s a caring doctor as well...he’s just being blinded by his revenge plans. I really admire Jae Joon in this scene because it was in his actions that I saw that after all, he himself knows that above anything else, he’s a doctor first and he shall do his duty. Chairman Oh was furious at him for doing this (since it was obvious from the start that he wanted Jae Joon to win the competition) for if the surgery goes wrong then there’s more reason for the patient’s family to file a lawsuit against the hospital. Chairman Oh even threatens the entire surgery team that they will lose their jobs if they continue with the operation. Jae Joon yells back with “What are you so afraid of?!” then explained that if they will just admit their mistakes and apologize sincerely then they can prevent a lawsuit but Chairman Oh insisted that it’s impossible in which Jae Joon replied with “That’s because we’ve never apologized sincerely! We’ve ignored the people who lost their parents and their children because we didn’t want to lose our money and positions. I’ll show you that you are wrong.”   And at that moment I felt like Jae Joon also deserves to be a lead character like Hoon. But wait, there’s more! A chaos came inside the operating room as one of Jae Joon’s assistant became nervous that resulted to the bleeding of the patient’s heart...at that moment, Hoon seems to be reminded of his father’s words: “...don’t ever forget the fact that you are a doctor” and he decided to join Jae Joon’s team. He also reminded the other doctors that they should not be ashamed for choosing to continue with the surgery despite the risks for that’s what doctors should do. Hoon said, “The people up there should be ashamed. Look.” (referring to Chairman Oh and the other doctors who are just watching the surgery) “You should be proud. You’re the only real doctors in this hospital.” And then he saves the day! Gosh, this is my favorite part of the drama!

Vertical and Horizontal.

Both doctors have their fair amount of successes and failures during their stay at Myung Woo and in the end I love how they were able to move past being a “Doctor Stranger” to being real doctors. What I would like to say in this final paragraph is that Jae Joon and Hoon are really different and yet the same. 

They may have their own reasons for the actions done but in the end I’m happy that they were able to understand what being a doctor should really be. 

In the end, despite the prime minister being the reason for all of his suffering, Hoon still decided to do whatever it takes to save his life. He realized that as a doctor, he should fulfill his duty of saving lives, even if the patient is an evil personified like the prime minister. For him, any person who lays down on his operating table is just another patient, nothing more nothing less so as a doctor he must do his best in saving that patient’s life. He was once a stranger but now he really did become a real doctor.

As for Jae Joon, I also love the “closure” for his character. He became a doctor because of his plan of bringing Myung Woo down as a revenge for what they did for his father but in the end, he realizes that such plan is absurd and not worth it because if he will pursue it then he just became like the people he hates, the people responsible for his father’s death. He realizes that he became a stranger because he lost in touch with his real purpose as a doctor. Before he left the hospital, he told this to Hoon (and it’s one of my favorite lines from the show) :  “You taught me a valuable lesson. Any doctor who doesn’t truly respect the lives of patients is a stranger.”

Doctor Stranger, despite its flaws, was a great drama and I didn’t regret that I chose this as the first KDrama to watch after years of not watching KDramas; it was a great re-introduction. I’ve learned a lot from this and someday I would definitely rewatch it. 

Doctor Stranger tells us the story of Park Hoon and Jae Joon, who are fire and ice, left and right, horizontal and vertical. Both are thoracic surgeons. Both are great. Yet, they are different. Doctor Stranger tells us the story of two strangers who later become real doctors themselves.