Votes? Cmon just because I felt sorry doesn't mean you'll just read the update and leave silently.

 *★°*.°★* 。

"I think it would be best if you took some time off."

Jimin closed his eyes, the words buzzing in his ears like an errant fly. The same ones that reverberated on a constant loop since he first heard them days before, spoken by his literary agent on a phone call that was only half unexpected. In truth, he'd considered taking a break himself for months, while simultaneously neglecting to do anything about it.

The warning signs were there. Fatigue but difficulty sleeping. Cynicism. Stress. Snapping over the smallest inconveniences. Procrastination. Paired with a strong desire for more, to create, to be productive but being unable to do so. It was a recipe for disaster. A perfect storm. A one-way journey to the burnout zone.

Perhaps he'd already arrived on a first-class ticket.

Jimin didn't argue when Yoongi recommended the "sabbatical". He found the term a bit laughable. It wasn't as though he were some posh university professor taking a period of leave to work on a passion project. There was no passion, no excitement. Only the desperate clawing need for something constantly eluding him.

It wasn't just writing either. Not being able to sit down at his computer and crank out thousands of words in one go as he did for the past few years was upsetting enough on its own, but the fact that everything else in his life seemed to have derailed at the same time...

All the mistakes he'd made the last few months joined the words echoing in his mind, providing a highlight reel to accompany the soundtrack of Yoongi's gentle scolding. Late nights that transitioned into early mornings. Far too many glasses filled with amber liquid. Fuzzy faces, rough hands, and names he couldn't quite recall. Names and faces he did remember, scrunched with fury and disappointment. Messages opened but ignored. Silence. Slammed doors. Regret. Self-loathing.

"I think it would be good for you," Yoongi had said when they met for coffee the previous morning. "You have such a unique insight, a way with words that always draws the readers in. You've been successful, even if you don't always see it. But you never take a moment to breathe and appreciate the fruits of your labor. Always shooting higher, chasing the next milestone. All that racing's caught up to you. You need rest. Go off the grid for a bit."

Jimin didn't argue. Instead, he stared at the globe in his office later that night. Gaze flicking between it and the glowing screen of his monitor. A blank document sat open, the vast expanse of white shining like a beacon. There was nothing there. The words written, erased, rewritten and erased again. Over and over. Nothing seemed right, nothing felt right.

He stood and walked to the globe, giving it a spin. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his hand, letting it hover for a moment before he pointed and touched down. The sphere stuttered to a halt, skidding a bit under his fingertip. Jimin opened his eyes, curious to see where it landed.

Scotland.

Interesting. He couldn't say he never expressed a desire to go, but it wasn't at the top of his list. Admittedly, he didn't know a lot about the country. There were a lot of kilts and castles and the Loch Ness Monster. Not to mention Outlander, of course. It was a beautiful place, full of wildness and ancient magic. Perhaps the last part was a bit of a stretch. Jimin didn't really believe in magic, despite the novels he wrote.

One article early in his career dubbed him as a "Korean blend of George R.R. Martin and Stephen King". The moniker stuck. He wasn't upset about it either. Being compared to author's whose works he'd idolized growing up was flattering, and the nickname wasn't wrong.

Many of the stories were perhaps a little darker than the average reader's taste, filled with mystery and suspense and things that go bump in the night. Creatures that were often metaphors for things in real life. Experiences he or those he knew had endured, dressed up under the guise of fiction, decked out with teeth and claws and bright glowing eyes.

Except lately, the monsters didn't want to come out and play. Content to stay tucked beneath beds or lost deep in the shadowy forest of his brain. Watching the cursor steadily blinking on the screen, his eyes grew tired even behind the lenses of his blue-light blocking glasses. He was exhausted, in every possible sense of the word.

Jimin didn't protest. Instead, he booked a ticket and packed his suitcase. Two days later, he strolled through the airport midafternoon, passport in hand, unsure of what was in store. The flight was long but he'd upgraded to business class, so it was relatively comfortable. He alternated passing the time scribbling in a notebook and staring out the window at the blackness beyond. He couldn't tell if it was nerves or the questionable in-flight meal that made his stomach queasy. Perhaps a bit of both. At least the squares of chocolate for dessert were good.

Jimin wasn't much of a planner outside of his writing career, but international travel was not something he wanted left to chance. Though there was nothing on the itinerary except to relax and decompress, all of the accommodations and transportation were researched. He decided to rent a small cottage near the beach. It was situated on a semi-remote island off the coast. There was a ferry to take the rental car along from the mainland.

He called Yoongi when he landed in Glasgow, waiting with the other travelers at baggage claim. Phone pressed against his ear as he navigated out the front doors of the airport, he dragged his luggage along as he searched for a taxi. Though he'd tried to prepare himself, he was still a bit unnerved when they eased away from the curb and began driving on the opposite side of the road than he was used to. Reminding the nerves jittering in his stomach that in less than twenty-four hours he would be the one behind the wheel.

"Everything is going to be fine," Yoongi assured him before they hung up. "Just disconnect. I have the location of the place you're staying in case anything happens. But nothing is going to happen. You'll have a little rest and relaxation and be back as good as new."

Jimin stuffed the phone in his pocket, staring out the window. The sun low and orange on the horizon beyond the buildings. It was easy for Yoongi to say, but Jimin wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that a little fresh air and scenic views in a new place would help. Over their years together, Yoongi had become much more than just an agent. He was a friend, perhaps the closest one Jimin had. Or the only one now. He wasn't always good at forming connections.

Knowing it would be quite late when he arrived and not keen to try and navigate foreign roads in the dark, he'd booked a room at a cheap hotel for the night. There would be ample time to head out in the morning after collecting the car and a good number of supplies.

Once settled, he ventured downstairs in search of something to eat, wanting to put as much distance between his palate and the funny gray steak served on the plane as possible. The street was alive with activity. Jimin found himself entranced by the jovial nature of its citizens. Coupled with their rough voices and sparkling eyes, it was like a celebration bubbled inside each person.

Golden lights glowed through the stained glass set in the doors of a small pub down the block. Jimin pulled open the door, the music and laughter on the other side becoming louder as he stepped inside. He made his way to the bar and plunked down on a worn but comfortable stool. The barkeep spun around, eyeing him curiously.

"Welcome to the Ness!" He roared, rotating a rag inside a glass. "What'll you have to drink?"

"Um," Jimin said, scanning the bottles behind the bar. Some of the labels were familiar, but there were a few he didn't recognize or never tried. "Perhaps you could recommend a good whiskey?"

"Aye," The man's thick gray mustache twitched. "A lad who knows what he wants! I know everyone has their personal preferences, but there's one that is at the top of many a list — the Lagavulin 16. A real nectar of the gods, that one."

He tossed the rag over his shoulder, turned again, fetching a fresh glass and the bottle in question. Pouring a generous amount, he slid the tumbler across the bar to Jimin, who accepted and took a sip. It was strong, but tasty, sliding down the back of his throat with a pleasant burn. The bartender stood waiting, watching his reaction.

"Good, no?" He asked.

Jimin nodded. "Good."

"Now, that the important business is out of the way," The man chuckled. "Might I interest you in a bit o' food as well? I'm Duncan Wallace, by the way. And you are?"

"Jimin," Jimin replied. He accepted the hand offered, wincing a bit at the firm squeeze of his fingers. The other man's palm was rough and callused, evidence of hard work and a long life.

Duncan produced a menu from under the counter. Though Jimin debated trying something a bit more adventurous, in the end he decided to play it safe and selected the fish and chips. The bartender nodded and hollered the order in the direction of the kitchen.

His blue-gray eyes fixated on Jimin once more. "I make it a point to get to know any newcomers who stop by me place. What are you in town for, business or pleasure?"

Jimin wasn't sure how to answer. Technically, it wasn't a work trip, but it wasn't strictly for pleasure either. The likelihood of him penning a new great work was just as low as that of him hooking up with anyone, remote location aside. Like his creativity, his desire for sex or even nonphysical intimacy had completely dried up. Swallowing down another mouthful of whiskey, he pretended to take his time considering the question. "A bit of both, I suppose."

Duncan nodded. "Right. Well, I can tell you there is no shortage of either of that here. How long are you staying?"

"Unsure," Jimin admitted. "Until I find the things I'm lacking."

"And what might those be?" Duncan asked, grabbing another glass and resuming his drying.

"Unsure again," Jimin said. "Sorry to be so vague. I'm a writer, but things have been a bit rocky lately. Not just that regard, but life in general. I was advised to take some time off."

"Aye," Duncan nodded as though he understood. "Where are you staying?"

"Currently the hotel up the block," Jimin said. "Just for the night. I rented a cottage near the beach. I head there tomorrow until... whenever I decide to go back, I suppose."

Duncan nodded again. "What's the name of the cottage?"

Jimin pulled out his phone to find the confirmation, and turned the screen toward Duncan, knowing he'd never be able to accurately pronounce the word. The barkeep learned toward him, peering over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

"Aye!" He exclaimed. "Faodail. That's a Gaelic word. It means "a lucky find" and I will say it is a fitting name for that particular cottage. Those who rent it often report strange things. The tales reach all the way back here to the city."

"Strange?" Jimin asked, wondering if he'd made a mistake. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing bad," Duncan waved him off. "It's got magic, that's all."

"Magic," Jimin echoed. "You're pulling my leg."

"I assure you, I do not," Duncan said. Storms seemed to swirl within the depths of his eyes, as though personally offended at the implication. "I know there's a lot of people who forget the dreams we hold on to as young boys, but I have not. This country and its land, steeped in old and wondrous enchantments. You've no doubt heard of Greek and Roman mythology. Scotland has its own legends as well, many of them connected to the natural world. I am certain there is a reason that residence was selected for you. Allow yourself to be open to the possibility and you will no doubt be the recipient of the remedy to your problems."

Jimin was about to argue. He had problems, but they weren't going to be solved by magic or believing in myths or legends. That might work in stories, including those he'd written himself, but not reality. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised Duncan was prone to mystical whimsies, given the name of the bar. The Loch Ness monster was perhaps one of the most famous supernatural creatures across the world, tales surrounding it still attracting attention even in the present day.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Jimin's dinner. A petite redhead waitress dropped the food in front of him, offering a small smile before she returned to the kitchen. Jimin squeezed a lemon slice over the golden fried exterior of the haddock as Duncan poured him another whiskey. There was a small dish of sauce tucked at the corner of the container. He opened it, dunking a chip inside before taking a bite. The potato was salty and flavorful and the fish moist and cooked to perfection.

"I know you probably think I'm a bit mad," Duncan said after a few minutes of silence. "But I swear to you I'm not. You're in for a wild ride, lad, mark my words. I can see the doubt in your eyes. Promise me something, will ye?"

"What?" Jimin asked, reaching for the glass.

"That you'll come back here before you leave and tell me your tale."

Jimin nodded. "Sure."

He could do that. It wasn't a big deal, even if he was certain to disappoint the old man when he returned. There was no way anything was going to occur. The only magic he might experience was sure to follow consuming several glasses of the divine mahogany-hued alcohol, a variety of delirium that he was quite familiar with.

Once finished, he attempted to pay for the meal. Duncan waved away the offered notes, insisting that he was happy to offer dinner to a traveler, wishing him luck on his excursion. Jimin stuffed the money back in his pocket and headed back to the hotel. Even the grease of the meal didn't cut through the strength of the spirit, and his mind remained floaty as he moved through the motions of his bedtime routine.

Settled beneath the covers, Jimin stared at the ceiling of the room, anticipating the inevitable broken sleep he experienced at home. Tossing and turning for hours until he was tangled in the blankets and all but falling off the bed. An unwilling witness to the sunrise more times than he could count over the last few months.

Instead, he found slumber claimed him minutes after his head hit the pillow. It was deep and dreamless, the hours rolling gently one into another, like waves upon the sand. Before he knew it, there was sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains. Bright sun, the kind of the late morning, not the burning red tones of dawn. Sitting up, he wiped drool from his cheek and headed for the bathroom.

The Ness was closed when he emerged downstairs after breakfast, the bar beyond the polychromatic windows dark. Jimin wondered what Duncan was doing with his afternoon before the evening rush. Part of him imagined the older man passing the time curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea and an ancient book of fairytales.

Perhaps he was just entertaining me because I'm a foreigner, Jimin said. A lot of tourists buy into that kind of stuff. Hoping to get transported back in time like Claire Randall to meet Jamie Fraser.

After securing provisions from the supermarket and collecting the car, Jimin set off at last. He was grateful to the gentleman in the rental shop, who rightly assumed he never had experience driving on the left-hand side or navigating narrow winding roads and mountain passes. They'd spent at least twenty minutes while he gave Jimin a crash course of helpful tips, most of which were promptly forgotten when he got behind the wheel and started off down the street.

City driving turned out to be as busy and stressful compared to any other metropolitan area. There were lanes for buses and bicycles, pedestrians everywhere, not to mention unfamiliar street signs. He drove like his grandmother was in the backseat holding a stockpot of hot soup, hands almost white knuckled on the steering wheel.

Another unique obstacle was the number of roundabouts. He got stuck in one for a solid five minutes before he was able to follow the car in front of him off, turn around at a side street, and try again. The constant badgering of the GPS on his phone clipped to the dashboard, insisting he "TURN RIGHT!" made him want to chuck the thing out the window and give up the entire vacation altogether.

Once outside the city, it became a little less anxiety-inducing, but the rural roads offered a new set of challenges. Narrow and winding in many places, as the rental car shop employee mentioned, the wheels turned like they were stuck in fresh toffee due to his reluctance to go too fast. He was constantly checking in the rearview mirror to see who was behind him, thankful for the provided passing places to pull over as soon as possible and let the more experienced motorists overtake him.

To Jimin's immense relief, most drivers seemed to be patient and understanding, a stark contrast to what he was used to in the States. He saw them glance to look at him as they went by, especially on the few occasions when there was no passing place available and he had to hike the wheels up on the grass at the side of the road. Waving and mouthing apologies, those behind the wheel offered nods and smiles and the occasional wave.

Another thing he'd been warned about was animals, both domestic and wild varieties. Deer, sheep, and cows were especially notorious for appearing suddenly in the road. Jimin thought back to the squirrels and possums he'd dodged back home when he pressed down on the brakes to stop for a small herd of Highland cattle.

There were about a dozen, all quite large with long horns and covered in flowing rust-colored hair. None of them seemed to be in a hurry, lowing softly as he inched the car onward a bit in a gentle attempt to get them to move along. Jimin let out a sigh, checking the GPS. He only had ten miles to go. In the end, he slumped in his seat and shut off the engine for a few minutes, taking a moment to look at the scenery outside.

It was hard to do so while paying attention to the lane, though he'd tried to steal a glance here and there. What he saw was breathtaking.

Everything was lush and green, ageless and wild, as though it were plucked from the setting of a fantasy movie and dropped down around him. In fact, if it weren't for the car, he'd have thought he was transported back through the years. Back to a time when modern inventions ceased to exist and the only way to live, to survive, was through one's own drive and skills.

Jimin snapped a few photos of the cows and landscape as he waited. He wondered if he should call Yoongi, tell him how everything was going so far. But, he reasoned, what was there really to report? Last night he'd drunk a lot of damn good whiskey and listened to some batty old man at a pub? Now he was stuck on a matchstick road just shy of his destination because several hundred pounds of beef was blocking the way forward? Yes, that was exactly the type of news he was sure the agent would be thrilled to hear.

At least you're doing what he requested, Jimin reminded himself. You're taking time off and living outside your bubble. No longer wallowing in the shadows, as much as you argued that wasn't what you were doing.

Eventually, the cows cleared the path, ambling with surprising speed onto the incline at the left. Jimin turned the engine back on and resumed the excursion, pressing down just a bit more on the accelerator.

To his relief, there were no further problems. He reached the city and, after questioning a friendly looking couple, managed to locate the pier where he would board the ferry. By the time he collapsed into a seat on the inner cabin of the ferry, his nerves were a bit frayed. There weren't many other passengers heading his way, but he could see them casting curious glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Perhaps someone recognized him, though he was fairly certain that wasn't the case.

Jimin watched the water as the boat chugged along. He unwrapped a bar of chocolate and broke off a square. Popping it in his mouth, he let it sit there, melting on his tongue until it dissolved around the raisins and almonds. There was something to be said for European chocolate, it was worlds better than the American stuff.

They arrived about an hour later. Driving across the island was a bit less stressful to him than on the mainland, but it was still an immense relief when he pulled up in front of the cottage.

Situated on the northern tip of the isle, it looked like something out of a storybook, a squat building with a thatched roof and stone exterior. Part of him half-expected a Hobbit to come strolling out the front door bearing a plate of scones. Jimin's mouth watered at the thought. It seemed forever since breakfast, though the chocolate had held the hunger pangs at bay.

He undid his seatbelt and pried himself from the car. Stretching the aches from his muscles as he regained sensation to the limbs, he headed for the front door.

The host sent a message the previous night that the key would be under a toadstool lawn ornament to the right of the welcome mat. Squatting down, Jimin lifted the indicated statue to find a silver key beneath. It was attached to a thin strip of leather, the ends decorated with glittering beads. After fitting it in the lock, he rotated until he heard the tell-tale click of the deadbolt. Pocketing the key and pushing open the door, he stepped inside.

True to the listing online, he was greeted by an interior that was beautifully rustic but renovated. Though small, it was cozy, with enough room to comfortably house two or three people. Jimin scanned over the open floor plan, taking in the sitting area, fully equipped kitchen, and shower room in turn. There was also a lofted sleeping area accessible by a ladder that jutted up into the ceiling from the middle of the room. He was torn between wanting a nap and to further explore outside.

In the end, he settled for the former. Gathering the groceries from the car, he stocked the shelves with the items he'd bought. Loading the fridge with cheese and meat and fish. Filling bowls with fruits and vegetables. Not to mention the number of snacks. Brightly colored packages littered the counter. Chips and cookies of all varieties, and of course, chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

Once that was finished, he brought in the luggage. He didn't unpack those bags quite so rapidly, and it was a bit tricky to haul them up to the sleeping space. Still, he made sure to take out some toiletries and pajamas for later that evening. Jimin unzipped his carry-on to get out his notebook and pens, setting them on the nightstand. Buried near the bottom of the bag was the worn case that protected his laptop. His hand hovered over it, fingers itching to take it out and boot up the word processor. After a moment, he shook his head, tugging the zipper closed once more.

Rest and relaxation.

The breeze was pleasant on his face when he stepped back outside. Closing his eyes, Jimin breathed in a big lungful of fresh air. It was so different from the city. So... clean. It picked up and threaded through his hair, blowing it back from his face. Jimin glanced around the side of the cottage, and started walking toward the shore.

The beach was littered with a myriad of shells, rocks, and dark clumps of seaweed. Jimin walked along, the toes of his sneakers kicking up sand with every step. Perhaps he should have worn different shoes, but he didn't want to turn back. Continuing onward, he headed for a small outcropping of rocks a few yards ahead.

Upon reaching them, he scaled to the top where he perched on one with a semi-flat surface. Then he paused, staring out at the water. It was blue beneath a matching late afternoon sky, the white tips of the waves dipping and rolling with a steady rhythm. Jimin inhaled, holding the air in his lungs for a few moments before slowly blowing it out again. He did it a few more times, training his eyes on the horizon.

Though he didn't want to, Jimin let his mind drift a bit. He thought about the events that led him to that point. When had things truly begun to go wrong? Was it when his last novel didn't do as well as the previous one? Maybe it was the one before that? Or the very awkward book signing where that fan had tried to kiss him and then went on an internet rant when he rejected her advances?

On the other hand, it was possible it wasn't even about his professional career. Perhaps it had to do with his personal life. A topic that he really didn't want to give any thought toward at all.

"Are you alright?"

Jimin blinked, rising into a standing position at the voice. He thought he was alone out there; the nearest house almost a half mile away. At least that was what the listing said. Glancing over, he was startled to find another young man standing a short distance away.

He looked to be around Jimin's age, perhaps a bit older, with wide eyes and short dark hair that stuck up in all directions. Jimin couldn't tell if that was intentional or not. He was wearing jeans and a thin striped sweater, but his feet were noticeably bare. Jimin wondered if he were one of those naturalists, the ones who denounced footwear and trained the soles of their feet to handle rough terrains.

"Oh," Jimin said, realizing time passed while he remained silent. It was rude to stare and especially rude to stare at strangers in a foreign land. "Sorry, you surprised me. I didn't think anyone else was around."

"It's alright," The man said, offering a small smile. "It can get a bit isolated out here, but there is peace in sitting with one's thoughts, you know?"

Jimin very much disagreed, given that was exactly what he'd been doing moments before and it was definitely not peaceful. But he found himself nodding. Under any other circumstance, the statement was not wrong.

"Anyway," The man nodded in the direction of the cottage. "You're staying at Faodail, hm?"

"Yes," Jimin said, wondering if this man was going to regale him with folklore like Duncan had. "For a couple weeks, at least."

"Ah," He nodded. "Well, I'm sure you'll have an enjoyable stay. The island is quite nice this time of year. I'm Jin, by the way."

"Jimin," Jimin said. "Have you lived here your whole life?"

"No," Jin shook his head. "I'm from the mainland. One year I came out this way, and decided to remain. This place, it's healing for the soul."

"That's good to hear," Jimin said. If there was anything his soul was in desperate need of it was healing. "You live nearby?"

"Up the coast a bit," Jin made a vague gesture. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was curious to see who was visiting us."

"It's alright," Jimin said. He waved. "Hope to see you around."

Jin nodded at him and began walking away. Jimin watched him go, then turned his attention back to the loch. Surprised to see there was another guest, this time of a different variety.

A small brown head was bobbing in the water nearby. Whiskers twitched, sending droplets flying, leaving ripples in their wake. Jimin froze, watching the creature as it turned liquid black eyes on him. It lifted its nose, scenting the air before disappearing below the surface.

Jimin waited, wondering if the animal were going to come back. He knew what it was. An otter. There were a few of them at the zoo and aquarium back home. Super playful, always racing about, diving into the water where they became boneless. Twisting and spinning like an acrobat in an anti-gravity chamber. Little clowns but also deeply resourceful. Their thick fur kept them insulated in deep chilly water and they used rocks to crack open their food.

The otter appeared again a short distance away. Jimin watched, unable to stop the delighted smile when a few more came into view. The first turned toward them, diving down then resurfacing near the group. He could hear them, sharp squeaks carrying on the wind, punctuated by the splashing as they gamboled about in the water.

So cute.

Jimin watched the otters for a long time. Not wanting to scare them with sudden movements or loud noises, he remained relatively motionless on the rocks. The sun sank lower until it almost kissed where the water and sky met, and he realized all he'd eaten that day was breakfast and two chocolate bars. His stomach ached with hunger, a sensation nearly forgotten when he stood and discovered his ass was numb.

Once back at the cottage, he examined the options, settling on chicken breast and chopped vegetables. Though he could have gone with something simpler, he knew it was good to eat. Despite not being particularly active that day, spending time out in the fresh air had worked up an appetite. Jimin ate the table, chasing bites with sips of whiskey.

After dinner, he considered his options. He could:

-Attempt to read any of the stack of books he'd shoved in his bag almost as an afterthought.

-Scribble in his notebook, attempt to connect all the jumbled thoughts scrawled during the flight.

-Watch one of the DVDs in the almost overflowing bookshelf to the left of the television.

-Dig out his laptop and stare at the manuscript, or rather lack thereof.

-Climb to the loft and go to bed early

In the end, he did none of the above, choosing instead to return to the beach. The sun had fully set by the time he stepped onto the sand. Instead of climbing back on the rocks, he sat down and watched the waves wash gently onto the shore.

It was almost eerily quiet. Jimin couldn't remember the last time he'd been somewhere outside where it was so still. The only sounds the lapping of the water over the sand and the rush of the wind. Overhead there stretched a blanket of stars, each one a bright, glittering jewel.

Jimin hugged his knees to his chest. Everything was so beautiful, the universe so vast. He, Yoongi, Duncan, Jin. Everyone he'd ever met or ever would were all just tiny specks on the planet. Numerous as the grains of sand or stars in the sky. Insignificant. Only around for a short time before they returned to the ground or scattered on the wind, with nothing to remain behind.

He knew he was being pessimistic. It was a problem he'd warred with for months, perhaps longer. Even if he knew things would be fine, he'd focus on the worst-case scenario. Writer's block. Whether his next project would be successful. Whether his current project was successful enough. The list went on and on.

It was hard not to wonder or worry. Before, he'd attempted to put on a brave face most times. To pretend he was immune to the worries shared by some of his peers. Most times he believed in himself, but every once in a while...

Jimin wished he'd brought the whiskey, though glass and sand probably weren't the best mix. Instead, he thought about the otters. How happy and playful they were, their fuzzy faces and the mischievous glint in their eyes. Would he see them again? He certainly hoped so

! A new book to go!

 It has only 4-6 chapters and all of them are ready to be published. Don't forget to vote cuties and yeah, comments please. Share it with your friends and enjoy!!

date - 4'th Sept 24

words count- 5448