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vallkyr · 1 year
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Step Out
When the people you trust most leave you to get caught by the task force hunting you, what else is there to do but finding new allies?
Different account now but the gif has still been made by the lovely @agustdawn
Pairings: Chan x Kwangsun (OC), Chan x Felix, Minho x Jisung, Changbin x Hyunjin, Younghyun x Liam (OC), Siyeon x Jonghyeon, Aaron x Minhyun and other minor pairings
Genres: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, some Romance and bits of Fluff in between
Tags: Dystopia AU, Rebels AU
Chapter Tags: -
Rating: Mature
General Warnings: Violence, Injury, Panic Attacks, Minor Character Death
Chapter Warnings: mention of injury, scars
Word Count: 12,904
Masterpost
< Previous Chapter |
Hey everyone! Step Out is back after two years! To be honest, I had a hard time writing Step Out since the allegations against Woojin started coming up and it didn’t change after the allegations turned out to be fake. I just couldn’t keep the story the way it was so I decided to replace Woojin by an OC. And since I was already changing things I went ahead and made some more changes (like also replacing Jae by an OC), edited everything I had uploaded and so on. I feel way more comfortable writing Step Out now so I hope that the next update won’t take quite as long. Until then, please enjoy the 9th chapter 💕
Chapter 9 - The burden of secrets
Numbers. So many goddamn numbers. A whole damn block of them. As though the mission wasn’t enough already. It’s all so damn overwhelming. Missions require all the concentration and energy Minho can muster and they always leave his brain exhausted, drained and lazy. And now he has to decipher the fucking message in this condition. He’s been fiddling around on his phone and sharpening pencils for ages now. Minho sighs as he peeks over to the sheet of paper on his desk, trying to get himself to get to work.
11111 111111
101 10 010 1110 110 000000 0011 1110 000000 0100 0 000000 0100 0010 00 000000 1110 0011 100 1000 111111
1 0100 0 0 1000 1 101 0011 0100 0 000000 101 0100 000000 101 1101 1000 000000 101 1000 010 001 111111
01 1000 000000 01 0011 0101 0101 000000 1001 1000 101 000000 101 00 010 0011 0 0011 0 1001 000000 101 0100 000000 1001 0100 000000 0100 0 000000 001 0011 1110 1110 0011 0100 0 1110 000000 1110 0100 0100 0 111111
011 1000 0100 011 0101 1000 000000 1110 101 0011 0101 0101 000000 100 0011 1110 0101 0011 0001 1000 000000 0010 1110 111111
1101 0010 1001 000000 0101 0010 111 000000 110 00 0100 001 000000 001 1000 111111
His head hurts just thinking about deciphering all of that. The first message was already a pain in the ass and the prospect of more and more and more messages like this is daunting. Why did he agree to that anyways? Talking is so much easier. Why does this shit have to be so complicated? Minho should probably make a table. So far, he hasn’t had the time for that, and he had hoped to avoid it for safety reasons. But the more he thinks about it, the more he feels like it can’t be avoided. He really underestimated how much work these messages would be. Minho sighs once again while he gets the writing pad from the drawer and places it on the table next to the message. He takes a pencil and a ruler and starts drawing his grid before gradually filling it. Letter by letter, code by code.
After an hour or so the whole thing is finally complete – at least Minho guesses it was an hour. Time runs as fast as a snail when you try to figure out what the letter Q looks like in your secret code. Minho hates that the code has to be this complicated, but it’s safety first and convenience second in this situation. They mustn’t risk the DIT spying into their communication. If anyone was to find the messages, they would surely give them over to that hell hole of an organisation. Just like the government expects of a ‘good citizen’.
Needing a bit of a change for his tortured brain, Minho decides to put everything aside for now and go downstairs into the kitchen. As expected, Spear B, Felix and Jisung have already started preparing dinner. The sweetest smile spreads over Jisung’s face when he spots Minho in the doorway and gestures for him to come over.
“How is it going?” How is it possible for someone to be this beautiful while peeling a carrot? If B and Lux weren’t here, Minho would love to hug Jisung right now. It would be so lovely to be in Jisung’s embrace, feel his warmth and just forget about his code-wrecked brain. But they aren’t alone. The others’ presence feels like a dark shadow looming over Minho.
“It’s exhausting,” Minho admits. “I wish there was an easier way, but meeting Virus regularly would be too dangerous even if he takes turns with Mercury.”
Jisung hums in understanding. “Then you’re here to take a break? I’m sure we’ll find something for you.”
“Yes please. I really need to get my mind off things a little.”
Without hesitation, Felix grabs his cutting board and sets it down in front of Minho. “Have fun.” His voice sounds overly sweet and the wateriness of Felix’s eyes gives Minho a pretty solid idea of what his task is going to be. Minho’s fear is confirmed when he looks down and is met with stinging in his own eyes. Onions. That explains why Felix was so quick to leave and find himself something else to do. Cutting onions definitely isn’t Minho’s favourite task, but at this point every distraction from that damn code is welcome. Even onions.
“Should have known I’d end up with that.” Despite the tears already forming in his eyes, Minho picks up the knife and gets to work. With the four of them all going about their tasks, they’re soon done preparing everything and can get to cooking, which Felix takes upon himself despite Minho’s protests. From then on Minho, Jisung and B are basically… useless. Everything they can do is keep Felix company and occasionally hand him ingredients. Jisung and Spear B soon start chatting with Felix occasionally chipping in when he isn’t too busy. Minho doesn’t have much to contribute except for a few sentences here and there. His mind is running a mile a minute and is completely empty at the same time. There’s so much to do, so much to think about, but Minho can’t seem to focus on anything. So many 0s and 1s are still circling through his brain.
“Dinner should be done soon,” Felix says before turning towards them. “Can one of you set the table?”
“On my way,” Minho says without hesitation. He is already getting plates from the cupboard when Jisung, who has been sitting on the kitchen counter since he finished peeling carrots, scoots over to him.
“Can I give you a hand?” When he sees Jisung like this, Minho almost forgets they had a mission today. Jisung looks calm and cosy in his oversized sweater that Minho is pretty sure is actually his own. He has been stealing more and more clothes from Minho lately, which should be annoying. But Minho finds it weirdly endearing. He could probably get his clothes back if he really wanted to, though he really prefers seeing them on Jisung over having them wait for him in the closet.
“Sure.”
Jisung slides down from the counter, helps Minho gather everything they need and carry it over to the dining room. Minho is about to go back to the kitchen and get glasses for them when Jisung stops him with a hand on his wrist. The little touch has Minho’s body shift down from forcing himself to function into just existing. He can finally let himself feel his tiredness and exhaustion without pushing it away. When Jisung tugs at his arm, Minho lets his heavy body be pulled away from the archway leading to the kitchen, into the privacy of the little dining room. “Are you okay?” Jisung’s pretty eyes are full of worry as he takes a closer look at Minho. “You seem so quiet.”
“Yeah it’s okay. I’m just exhausted and that message is eating my last brain cells.”
Jisung hums like he’s trying to come up with a way to make it better. Minho simply steps closer and lets his head drop onto Jisung’s shoulder. After a moment Jisung slings his arms around Minho and holds him close. Having Jisung hug him lets Minho forget about the code, about the table, about Felix and B in the kitchen, about everything. It feels like Jisung knocked over the glass of his mind and let all the stuff keeping him busy pour out before setting it down again. After a while Jisung starts humming a low tune and lightly swaying them back and forth. Minho can’t help but giggle as he closes his eyes and allows himself to sink deeper into Jisung’s embrace.
“You guys are taking ages. Do you need help with setting the table?” Hearing Spear B’s voice makes Minho tense up. He gives Jisung a quick slap on the butt that has Jisung smile to himself before stepping away from him. When Minho heads back into the kitchen, Jisung follows close behind him and helps him finish setting the table just in time for lunch to be ready.
Minho feels a lot more at ease when they’re eating. The weight of the day feels a little lighter now that he gets to have a break for once. Since Felix did most of the actual cooking, B and Jisung volunteer to do the dishes after dinner. Though hesitant, Minho goes back to decoding after clearing the table for them. He still isn’t enthusiastic about having to work again, but Minho’s brain definitely feels fresher after a bit of distraction and a tad of Jisung. Hopefully working with the code will be easier now that he has a table. He’ll just have to be a bit more careful now so nobody else gets their hands on it.
[-]
“Don’t stop.” Younghyun cracks an eye open to look up at Liam. Thankfully his request works and makes his boyfriend go right back to patting Younghyun’s hair.
“I should have gotten a dog instead.” Despite his words, Liam doesn’t stop or makes a move to get Younghyun’s head off his lap. “A dog would just fall asleep after five minutes and I could watch TV in peace.”
“A dog can’t cook dinner for you.” Noticing Liam directing a critical look at the empty pizza boxes, Younghyun quickly adds. “Not even on a good day.” As much as he loves cooking with Liam, after hearing that Jungkook is injured and having to deliver the news to Bambam Younghyun had been happy to just drop onto the couch and eat. He still feels exhausted, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Younghyun’s home.
“You underestimate my ability to teach a dog tricks.”
“My bad, I forgot your secret career as a dog trainer.” Younghyun fully opens his eyes and grins up at his boyfriend, who shakes his head and focuses on the TV again. “Speaking of dinner, Chan accepted the invitation. Is tomorrow alright?”
“Sure, I can go grocery shopping after work if we still need anything.” It takes a while before the question Younghyun was already expecting follows. “Any idea what we’ll cook?”
The same old problem. It’s been years and yet the struggle of ‘What can we cook?’ never gets any easier. “No, you?”
“Nope.”
“Fuck.” He and Liam start giggling. Younghyun really should have expected this when he invited Chan over. Deciding what they want to have for dinner is already hard enough when it’s just the two of them, but guests always make it even more difficult because they can’t bullshit their way through it and hope the result is edible. “I could ask Chan if he has any preferences.”
Liam gasps in fake surprise. “You’re a genius.”
“Bet a dog wouldn’t have been able to come up with that.” Younghyun chuckles.
“That’s it. Get off my lap.” It’s obvious Liam isn’t serious, but Younghyun sits up nonetheless and shifts to sit next to Liam. As soon as that’s done, he leans closer to kiss Liam’s cheek. Liam seems almost surprised. A little smile fills his face before morphing into a slightly suspicious frown. “What did you do?”
Younghyun rolls his eyes. Obviously, he cannot possible show affection if he didn’t screw up and accidentally wash a red sock with the white laundry. “Nothing. Just trying to thank you for your helping with delivering the news to my unit. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Liam’s gaze softens. “It was still you doing all the work,” he insists. “I just did my part to calm you down for that.”
Younghyun only hums in agreement. They don’t need any more words. Just locking eyes is enough for Younghyun to know Liam understands how important his support was even if he’s playing it down.
It’s Liam who eventually breaks the warm silence between them. “We should go to sleep. If we can’t manage to have a healthy sleeping schedule, you should at least get some rest after missions.”
Sadly he does have a point with that. Younghyun feels utterly exhausted after the mission and the situation surrounding Jungkook. It takes a bit of effort to get up from the couch, but they eventually make their way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. While they brush their teeth Younghyun watches Liam, who is already stripped down to his briefs and one of Younghyun’s shirts, run his hand through his hair, probably deciding that the dye needs to be freshened up in the near future. To anyone else the situation would look so mundane. But seeing Liam in all his half-dressed glory with toothpaste on his lips has Younghyun feel warm and fuzzy inside. The earlier ‘I’ll see you at home.’ is still present in his mind, because nothing describes what Liam is to him like the word home. Being with Liam makes Younghyun feel safe and at peace. No matter what happens, what might shake up their lives, they handle it side by side. Just like they have been doing for the past seven years already.
Younghyun is snapped out of his thoughts when Liam slaps him on the ass. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes wide open? You know you’re supposed to lie down and close your eyes first, right?”
“So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong,” Younghyun mutters while following Liam into their bed. He straddles Liam’s waist and bends down to kiss him while carding his hand through Liam’s chestnut coloured hair. When he pulls back, Liam has the softest smile on his face. They stay like this for a while, looking at each other, Younghyun twirling a strand of Liam’s hair around his finger. If it was an option for them, Younghyun would have asked Liam to marry him then and there. It’s not like either of them needs a ring or certificate whatever – the thought is kind of ridiculous to be honest – but the thought of making it official that they want to spend the rest of their lives together is kind of nice regardless. Though as things stand, they wouldn’t be able to get married no matter if they wanted to or not. At least not here.
“You know that I love you, right?”
“I do.” Liam chuckles. “Love you too, you sap.” Younghyun kisses Liam again and wishes him a good night before sliding out of Liam’s lap and into bed next to him. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow knowing that he’s home.
[-]
Jisung stops in the door frame to their room when he sees Minho still bent over the desk. Minho looks fully concentrated and totally exhausted at the same time, which is a shame considering how relaxed he had seemed after dinner. Did the little break change anything at all? How Jisung wishes he could do more for Minho. He already puts his all into supporting Minho, cheering him up and making sure he relaxes after a hard day. But it never feels like enough, especially not when Minho looks this worn out. “What are you up to?”
Minho jumps up like a scared deer and immediately scrambles to cover his notes with his arms and upper body. It’s a strange sight, like he’d defend those notes with his life. “Sungie. I thought you and Spear B were doing the dishes.”
Jisung carefully steps into the room and closes the door after himself. “We’re done?” This is odd. Jisung understands if he scared Minho because Minho was focused and didn’t hear him come in. But this? It’s almost as if he’s trying to hide something from Jisung. What can be so drastic about those papers that Jisung isn’t allowed to catch as much as a glimpse of them? “Is something the matter? You seem weird…”
“No, it’s nothing. It’s just that I made myself a table for deciphering the code.” Minho leans back in his chair, giving up his defence over the stack of paper. Though he turns them around nonetheless. He still refuses to let Jisung see a thing of what he’s written down. “I mean you know the drill. If you end up getting questioned about this-”
“The less I know the better.” Jisung scoffs as he walks over to the bed and lets himself fall down onto it. This is so frustrating. Even though he’s kind of relieved Minho isn’t keeping any actual secrets from him, it sucks that Jisung isn’t allowed to learn the code. He wishes he could help Minho with deciphering or writing messages or do anything else useful aside from assisting Minho in planning.
“Jisung…” Worry sounds through Minho’s voice as he gets up, follows Jisung to the bed and crouches down on the floor in front of him. Just hearing Minho say his name pushes the negative feelings back a bit. No matter how chaotic and awful things around them might get, at the very least they’ll always have each other. Things between them have been going so well. They used to spend basically every free minute together anyways, but they’ve become even closer since they’ve been living here together.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just read a bit while you work on the messages.”
“You sure?” Minho’s gaze is so gentle that just looking into his eyes releases a swarm of butterflies in Jisung’s stomach. Jisung wonders if he’ll ever fully get used to the way he melts into a puddle around Minho.
“Yeah. Now hurry up and get everything done. The sooner you’re back the sooner can I start cuddling you.”
“True.” Minho is smiling when he rises from the floor again. He stops midway to place a little kiss on Jisung’s lips. “Can’t wait.” Jisung can’t wait either. The thought of burying his face in Minho’s chest and breathing in Minho’s scent while they snuggle as close as they can already feels so wonderful. It will be like heaven to fall asleep in Minho’s arms after the mission. Damnit, Minho really needs to hurry and finish those messages.
“I’m rooting for you!” Jisung calls. The chuckle sends a little tremble through Minho’s shoulders, which is the most endearing thing ever. Jisung takes a moment to look at Minho’s back, basks in the warm feeling that spreads through his chest from being around his boyfriend. It never ceases to amaze Jisung how strong Minho is. Everyone feels exhausted after their missions yet here Minho is, still fulfilling his duties even though he probably wants to just fall into bed and sleep more than anyone. It’s so much work to plan their missions and it must be even more tiring to keep track of everyone and everything during the mission itself. How Minho can stay on top of it all is beyond Jisung’s comprehension.
Deciding to stay true to his words, Jisung gets up from the bed, walks over to the book shelve by the windows and starts looking through everything. Since this is – or rather used to be – the bedroom of Changbin’s parents, most of the books are… not really to Jisung’s liking. There’s stuff about business tactics, handling human resources, and ways to relax at work as well as literary classics that bore Jisung just from looking at them. The depressing choice of books makes Jisung glad he decided keep some books he stole from Changbin’s sister on the nearby side board. Jisung picks one that looks interesting, lies down on the bed again and starts reading.
The book isn’t quite as good as Jisung had hoped –well, it’s only the beginning anyways – but it keeps him busy. After a while, there’s shuffling at the desk, which immediately makes Jisung peeks over the pages of his books. Minho rips a piece from a blank sheet of paper and starts noting down his reply. Even from across the room, Jisung can tell Minho is hurrying. As soon as it’s done, he jumps up, turns around and proudly presents the note to Jisung.
00011 111111
0100 1011 1110 0101 111111
0100 1011 0000 000000 0100 1001 001 100 11 000000 1011 01 000000 0101 1011 010 110 1 000000 0101 1011 1110 0101 111111
1 010 0001 0001 01 0001 000000 111 10 1001 1000 000000 100 001 011 111111
Jisung doesn’t know what it says, the only meaning that matters to him is that Minho comes towards him with big steps. Jisung barely has time to put the book in his hands aside before Minho is already tackling him in a hug. They nestle together, Minho lying on top of Jisung like a blanket. Jisung wraps his arms around Minho and starts rubbing his back in slow, soothing motions. “Are you going to bring that note to your mailbox today?”
“No, it can wait until tomorrow morning. I just have to make it before Virus’ shift,” Minho mumbles into the crook of Jisung’s neck. “I just want to sleep now.”
“You can’t sleep fully clothed though.” Jisung emphasises his point by pulling at the elastic of Minho’s sweatpants before letting it snap against his skin.
“Sure I can.” Minho already sounds half asleep. “Just watch me.”
Seeing no other way to motivate his boyfriend, Jisung pushes Minho off of him, earning himself a frustrated whine. Giggling, Jisung rolls Minho onto his back, gets onto his knees and pulls Minho up by the arms. “Come on.” Minho still pretends to be annoyed by Jisung’s attempts to get him out of bed, making himself deadweight in Jisung’s arms. But the smile on his lips says otherwise.
“You could just undress me here.”
“Tempting,” Jisung admits. “But I can’t brush your teeth here.” Minho groans in annoyance when Jisung finally succeeds in hoisting Minho off the bed and into a standing position. Thinking that this will be enough, Jisung turns to walk away, but is stopped by arms circling his waist. With Minho basically glued to his back, Jisung drags both of them to the bathroom.
[-]
Jungkook’s mind feels fuzzy when he wakes up to a dark room. He can’t even remember going to bed last night. Except this isn’t his bed. Or his bedroom. Where is he? Where else would he be? Is he staying over at someone else’s place? Once Jungkook’s eyes are used to the darkness he takes a look around himself. This is a hospital room. And he’s the patient. He vaguely remembers waking up in the recovery room and that he was transferred, but he must have passed out again right after. What happened?
And what’s that sound? Water? Why would water be running in the middle of the night? Jungkook tries to sit up, but the pain in his leg stops him. He remains propped up on his elbows to take another look around the room. He got a single bed room, so there’s no roommate who could be showering at absurd hours. It could be from next door though? That’s probably it, right? What else would it be? Jungkook lets himself fall back onto the bed and closes his eyes. He’s so damn tired. No matter he much he must have slept already if it became night in the meantime, he doesn’t feel the least bit refreshed.
Suddenly the water stops followed by the sound of the shower door opening and the rustling of a towel. It’s too loud to be from a different room. But who would be here? The walls are probably just thinner than Jungkook would have thought. He should be sleeping instead of worrying his head over weird noises. Jungkook is about to doze off when the bathroom door creaks, making Jungkook snap his eyes open and – for lack of a better memory – try to sit up again. Fucking shit.
“Hey, careful.” Jimin rushes closer to his bed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes…” Jimin? Why is Jimin here? He was on the ambulance with Jungkook, right? Yes, if nothing else Jungkook definitely remembers Jimin holding his hand in the ambulance. But what is he doing in Jungkook’s room? Jungkook looks up at Jimin, only now noticing the towel hanging over Jimin’s shoulders. His gaze wanders farther up to Jimin’s hair that is dripping water onto his shirt. Jimin showered in his hospital room? “What are you doing here?”
“You don’t remember?” Jimin chuckles while pulling a chair over to the bed and sitting down beside Jungkook. “We talked after you woke up. I asked you if I could shower here and you said it was fine.”
“Uhm.” Jungkook’s mind is completely blank. He can’t remember waking up before or talking to Jimin, but he can’t imagine that Jimin would lie about something like that. Why would he, anyways? “I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep right after.”
“Looks like it. Sorry if I startled you.” A warm smile takes over Jimin’s face. How come he looks so gorgeous without even doing anything? There’s something so gentle and cosy about seeing Jimin freshly out of the shower wearing a plain, white shirt. Immediately, Jungkook’s thoughts start wandering again. He remembers the way Jimin held his hand in the ambulance, how much strength Jimin’s presence was giving him. If he focuses, he can still feel Jimin’s warmth. As much as Jungkook would love to stay right here, look at Jimin and wallow in memories, he really needs to get to the bathroom. Now. But he doesn’t even manage to get out of bed before pain jolts through his leg once again.
“Wait.” Jimin jumps up, fetches a pair of crutches from the end of the bed and hands them to Jungkook. “Do you need any help?” Even now that Jungkook’s injury has been taken care of, Jimin is still worrying about Jungkook.  Jungkook would find it sweet if he wasn’t so busy feeling guilty about it.
“I don’t know.” Jungkook is still wobbly when he gets up, but he somehow manages to get himself standing on his intact leg. Despite this, Jimin doesn’t seem totally convinced that he’s fine. He follows every single one of Jungkook’s slow steps as though he fears Jungkook might collapse any second. Jimin even pushes the bathroom door open for Jungkook, which is when Jungkook stops for a moment. “I think I can do the rest by myself.”
“You sure?” Jimin’s voice is smug as he tilts his head to the side and looks at Jungkook in a way that has Jungkook weak in his knees. And that’s even though he can barely see Jimin in the darkness of the hospital room. This is really the wrong moment to be whipped, Jungkook needs every bit of his strength his legs have in stock.
“Yes.” Jungkook definitely is sure. He’s never been surer in his life. A mere second later, Jimin breaks into giggles and goes to sit down in his chair again. Jungkook almost sighs in relief. He doubts his pride would survive Jimin helping him on the toilet. When Jungkook returns Jimin is still sitting in the chair, which almost surprises Jungkook. Part of him thought he might be having hallucinations from the anaesthesia. It’s only now that Jungkook realises Jimin is still in his uniform pants. The jacket that goes with it hangs from the back of the chair Jimin is sitting on.
“Is something wrong?” Jimin asks after Jungkook has apparently looked at him for a bit too long. His voice goes back to sounding worried so quickly it really bothers Jungkook. He doesn’t want to worry Jimin, especially not with something as simple as spacing out for a moment.
“You’ve been here the entire time?”
Jimin briefly looks down on himself before nodding. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone.” He runs his hand through his still damp hair. “Besides I still need to interrogate you and report to the Corporal. That can wait until tomorrow though. You need to rest now.”
“So do you.” Jungkook finally makes his way back to the bed. In an instant, Jimin is back by his side, helps him lift his injured leg onto the mattress and get comfortable again. Jimin pulls his chair even closer, right next to the bed, and takes Jungkook’s hand into his just like he had done in the ambulance. Immediately, Jungkook’s cheeks starts heating up. Hopefully Jimin can’t see him blush in the dark. Gosh, why does Jungkook have to be so nervous because of something so simple? Jimin always makes him feel like some stupid teenager having his very first crush.
“I’m really glad you’re fine, Jungkook-ah.”
“Thank you.” What else could he say to that? Jungkook has no idea how he even manages to keep his voice in check, but he’s grateful for himself. At least that part of talking still works. Jimin holding his hand is still so foreign and it makes Jungkook’s heart race like crazy. How come this is actually happening for the second time in one day? “What did the doctors tell you?” Great. Change the topic when he’s getting emotional. Perfect. Exactly what Jungkook really wants.
“Not much,” Jimin admits. “Just that surgery went well and that you should be back on track in a few weeks. I’m sure they’ll tell you everything in more detail tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook still has no idea what to say. Usually conversations with Jimin are so easy, but now there’s this strange tension. It’s not a bad one per se, but one that’s way more emotional than anything they’ve shared before. This is probably just because of the shock, Jungkook tells himself, Jimin must have been worried about losing a member of his unit. Jungkook tries his best to ignore the part of him that just wants to pull Jimin close and kiss him when Jimin absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of Jungkook’s hand. The little, maybe meaningless, gesture feels so damn intimate. Jungkook really needs to get a hold of himself, just because Jimin is holding his hand doesn’t mean he wants anything beyond that. But obviously, Jimin isn’t going to let getting a grip be easy.
“We should go to sleep now.” Seeing Jimin’s gentle smile in the dark, alongside his low voice and the words he’s saying make Jungkook’s mind run crazy. Even though he highly doubts Jimin is going to lie down next to him, Jungkook immediately wonders what it would be like. He’d give everything to experience going to bed with Jimin, seeing him in one of Jungkook’s shirts, hugging him from behind and making him smile by whispering ‘Good night.’ into his ear. Fuck, Jungkook should not be having these kinds of thoughts about his Lance Corporal.
“You’re right. Good night, Jimin-ah.” Jungkook kind of expected Jimin to complain about the lack of honorifics the way he usually does. But today he just shakes his head and smiles. What’s with him today? Jungkook isn’t sure whether he should be relieved or sad when Jimin eventually lets go of his hand. Though Jungkook is sure he doesn’t like it when Jimin retreats to his chair, despite expecting it. Even with the way Jimin leans back, it doesn’t seem comfortable in the least. He can’t really lie down, he doesn’t have any kind of blanket and without any kind of armrests, chances are Jimin might just tip over to the side. Jungkook feels kind of bad for making Jimin sleep like that. It doesn’t matter that none of this was Jungkook’s idea, Jimin decided it all on his own. “The bed is big enough, you know? You could lie down with me.” Oh dear lord, did Jungkook really just suggest they share a hospital bed?
The beat of silence that passes afterwards makes Jungkook’s nervousness so much worse. Was that offer too much? Did he make things weird? He went too far, didn’t it? Maybe Jungkook should have just kept quiet. But then again, there’s no harm asking right? It’s the least he can do when Jimin takes care of him like that. “That’s nice,” Jimin eventually replies. “But I think it would be safer if I stayed in the chair. I don’t want to hurt you while we sleep.”
“Ah right…” The answer makes Jungkook feel a little stupid. Of course Jimin wouldn’t lie down in bed with him. He shouldn’t have suggested that.
“It still hasn’t set in that you’re injured, huh?” When Jimin smiles all the negative thoughts come to a halt. Jungkook just really likes Jimin’s eye smile, when his eyes nearly disappear and his full lips curl up.
“Not really,” Jungkook admits. “Everything happened so fast.” One moment Jungkook was still going after I.N, the next Bora is dragging him out of the building. Something that happened in a matter of second will take him weeks to recover. It seems so ridiculous.
“I’m sure you’ll come to terms with everything once you have a bit of time to yourself.”
“Yeah maybe.” Even when Jimin wishes him a good night once again, leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, Jungkook has trouble looking away from him. Despite all the complicated feelings that come with it, Jungkook is really glad Jimin is here. He wouldn’t have wanted to be alone after this mess. Wasn’t that exactly want Jimin was going for? That Jungkook wouldn’t feel like he’s all by himself after everything that has happened? “Thank you for being here, it means a lot,” Jungkook mutters, a smile tugs at Jimin’s lips but he doesn’t say anything. Jungkook doesn’t know for how long he continues looking at Jimin until he finally falls asleep.
[-]
“Good morning you two. I’m Lance Corporal Kang Dongho of battle team unit C.” Despite the cheerful smile and friendly tone, Chan feels kind of intimidated by the man standing in front of them. Lance Corporal Kang is only a little taller than Chan, but with a noticeably broader built. And he’s definitely way more muscular than both Chan and Kwangsun. Aside from his physical appearances, just the words “battle team” leave an uneasy feeling in Chan’s gut. He still hasn’t forgotten the looks they got on their first day. Though at the very least, he can’t remember Lance Corporal Kang being among the people who death glared at them. So Chan has hope that the Lance Corporal wasn’t completely forced to work with them and may have even volunteered to work with them. One is allowed to dream after all. “The Corporals and Sergeant Park decided that it would be good for you to come along when our division marches out. It’s my task to make sure you are prepared for that.”
“We will go on missions with you guys?” Sitting in the office and being asked questions is one thing, but going out and actively fighting Stray Kids is different. Would they have to carry guns like the real DIT members? Would they have to shoot if they came across one of the members? The thought makes Chan’s blood freeze. He can’t do that. He can’t point a gun at them. He can’t go that far.
But he has to. Chan was resolved to do everything it takes, he mustn’t back down now.
“Exactly. Sergeant Park thinks it will be good to have you there since you know the way Stray Kids operate better than anyone else.”
“Okay…”
Kwangsun seems to notice his discomfort if the way he steps closer is anything to go by. Chan turns around to look at him, feeling a bit reassured by the hint of a smile on Kwangsun’s face. No matter what happens, he’s not alone. They’re going to do all of this together.
“What exactly is the plan?” Kwangsun asks after turning back to Lance Corporal Kang. Chan is pretty glad he’s taking over talking; he really doesn’t feel like doing it right now.
“Well first of all we’ll have to figure out your current skill level and which areas still need work in. Then we’ll have to make sure you meet the requirements of the DIT. After all we don’t want to put you at risk when marching out with us.”
“When are we going to start?”
“Right now.” Lance Corporal Kang beams at them. “There are some workout clothes for you on the table over there. We’ll practice every day after lunch break until 4pm. The people of my unit will be in the common room or with unit A so we have this room to ourselves for practice.”
Oh. Chan had hoped for a little more time to stomach the news. The thought of going after the rest of Stay Kids is still so foreign he doesn’t feel ready to start training for it. Contrary to him, Kwangsun doesn’t seem to have much of a problem with the situation. Without any bit of hesitation, he walks over to the table and grabs himself a set from one pile of the aforementioned clothes. They’re supposed to change here? In the practice room? In front of Lance Corporal Kang?
Chan takes a deep breath to steady himself. He may be a bit out of practice by now, but it can’t be that hard. Nobody is paying attention to him anyways, right? Then why is there still this fear bubbling up inside of him? He glances over at Kwangsun and the Lance Corporal, finding them still chatting. Good. At least there’s that. If he hurries they won’t see. Chan grabs the shirt from his pile of clothes, backs himself against the wall, quickly slips out of the shirt and into the new one. As soon as the fabric slides over his skin he starts to feel more at ease again. When he looks up, Kwangsun and Lance Corporal Kang are still talking about some workout. Neither of them seems to have noticed anything. Feeling a bit more relaxed now that the worst part is done, Chan takes the pair of grey sweatpants from the table and changes the rest of the way. He’ll really have to find a different way to do this if they’re going to continue training with Lance Corporal Kang.
[-]
“Good morning!” Jungkook frowns when a cheerful voice rips him out of his sleep. Why is hospital staff at war with sleep? Wouldn’t sleeping in be beneficial for his recovery or something? When Jungkook tries to sit up a bit, his gaze immediately lands on Jimin who’s still sleeping slumped on the chair. He actually stayed here all night? The nurse currently chattering about the beautiful weather today doesn’t seem to have noticed Jimin’s presence yet. Jungkook waits for her to look at him before lifting his finger to his lips and nodding over to the chair. The nurse freezes in her movements and breathes a silent “Oh.” as soon as she spots Jimin. Luckily, Jimin seems to still be sound asleep despite her loud voice. He must be a heavy sleeper. “Should I come back later?” the nurse mouths.
Jungkook nods, smiling when she gives him a thumbs up and leaves his room again. Still feeling incredibly tired, Jungkook lies down and tries to get comfortable again. But of course, he can’t seem to close his eyes when Jimin is right next to him. In his sleep, Jimin slid down on the chair a bit. His legs are spread far apart, his arms are crossed in front of his chest and his head is hanging low. The sunlight streaming in through the stark white curtains is playing with Jimin’s jet black hair. Jungkook is glad Jimin didn’t wake up when the nurse came in, not just because it gives him the opportunity to stare a little bit. (Yes, Jungkook is aware that’s kind of creepy.) Mainly, Jungkook is glad Jimin gets to sleep a bit more. Jimin really stayed here over night just so Jungkook wouldn’t be alone. He must have been so exhausted after the mission. Despite all the difficulties, Jimin chose being there for Jungkook over his well-deserved rest. Knowing that Jimin would do anything for their unit is one thing, experiencing it a totally different one. And having Jimin do it for him specifically has Jungkook’s heart race a little.
No matter how nice it may be to have Jimin care for him like that, Jungkook is worried about him. It’s probably ridiculous. Jimin knows his limits; he doesn’t need anyone to fuss over him. Even before Jimin became their Lance Corporal, Jungkook has always been impressed by his strength, both physical and mental. Jimin may have a handsome face and a rather slim build, especially compared to a lot of guys on the battle team, but that doesn’t mean he can’t kick ass. On top of that, Jimin knows how to lead a team. He has no trouble joking around with everyone but is well aware of when enough is enough and how to keep them on track when needed. It’s not surprising he was picked to become Lance Corporal after Jongdae left. Jimin is amazing as a person and as a leader. He gives so much when he doesn’t have to. And here Jungkook goes again, getting carried away when he allows his thoughts about Jimin to flow.
It’s crazy how tired operations – and thinking about your crush - can make you. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s dozing off again. Whether it’s for ten minutes or two hours, Jungkook doesn’t know, only that he wakes up when Jimin stirs awake on his chair. “Good morning,” Jungkook mumbles while pushing himself up into a sitting position.
Jimin rubs the sleep out of his eyes while sitting up. “Mornin’.” He rolls his shoulders before pushing his arms up to stretch, whining softly while he does so. Oh dear lord, Jimin looks so soft. So huggable. And just like that Jungkook is back to the fantasy of last night: sharing a bed with Jimin, seeing him in one of Jungkook’s shirts with dishevelled hair and a slow tired smile on his face. For fuck’s sake Jungkook has been having these kind of thoughts under control while they’re at work, why are his feelings acting up now? Is it because of everything that happened yesterday? Or is it just because they’re alone? When they do meet outside of work it’s usually with the other members of the unit. Jungkook is totally not used to getting to put his full attention on Jimin without worrying about anyone else getting suspicious.
“How are you feeling today?” Jimin mumbles. His voice is still a little rough, but Jimin seems to slowly be coming alive.
“Alright, I guess. But I haven’t tried to move yet so who knows?”
“Good, keep it up.” Jimin wags his finger at Jungkook and chuckles before getting up from his spot and starting to stretch his limbs. It takes all of Jungkook’s self-restraint, but Jungkook manages not to stare at the stretch of skin that is exposed when Jimin’s shirt rides up from the little exercises. “I still have to interview you on the whole incident.” Jimin doesn’t sound happy about having to conduct this interview in the least, but Jungkook guesses there’s no way around it. Since Jimin can’t seem to find anything to write on, he starts a recording on his phone and begins with the interview.
Even after having had more time to process everything, there isn’t much Jungkook can tell Jimin about yesterday’s events. The incident with I.N just happened too fast. Jimin asks him question after question, coaxing more details out of Jungkook than he thought would be possible. But in the end, it still doesn’t feel like much. After they reach the limits of Jungkook’s memory, Jimin thanks him and starts packing up his stuff. “I should probably get going. What time is it?” Truth be told, Jungkook is feeling a little disappointed that their time is over already. Well, it’s probably obvious that he doesn’t want Jimin to leave. It would be too good to be true if Jimin was able to stay with him.
“I have no idea,” Jungkook admits. He hasn’t even considered checking the clock until now. As he found out today, when he’s alone with Jimin time doesn’t matter. But sadly, it matters to Jimin. He checks his phone, groaning as soon as the screen lights up.
“Fuck, I should be at work already.” Jimin quickly puts on his jacket. “Sorry, I wish I could stay longer. Are you going to be okay?” No. Definitely not. Jimin needs to stay here and personally nurse Jungkook back to health.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”
Jimin smiles. He finally smiles again. Words can’t express how much Jungkook loves Jimin’s smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to drop by again after work. Behave until then.” Already about to leave, Jimin stops in the doorframe and turns around again. “Oh and Jungkook-ah?”
“Yes?”
“The way I know you you’re going to try and hurry to get back with us. Please don’t do that. I know it’s hard to sit around and wait, but you need time to recover. Promise me you’ll take things slow for now.”
Jungkook swallows around the lump in his throat. There it is again, Jimin’s worry. But combined with the little smile on his face, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy, makes Jungkook’s heart flutter rather than weighing him down. “I promise.”
[-]
“Happy Birthday!!!”
The cheers are followed by the sound of a party horn right before Yeji is yanked forward. Hyunjin laughs as Yeji stumbles over the threshold and right into Yuna’s hug. “Thank you,” Yeji says in between giggles. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Sorry we’re late.” As soon as she’s inside the apartment, Yuna rushes to the couch to hug Jisu and Chaeryoung too.
“Yeah, someone took ages in the bathroom,” Ryujin explains with a pointed look at her sister while closing the door behind herself and Yeji. Ooh, there’s definitely some tension there.
“You’re one to talk. Your hair is easy to fix, Unnie!”
It obviously takes Ryujin a lot of self-control to limit her reaction to an eyeroll before finally hugging Yeji. “Happy Birthday, Jiji-ah. Be grateful you have a brother.”
Yeji just barely stops herself from bursting out laughing. “Brothers aren’t any better, trust me.”
“At least I don’t lose half a rabbit in hair every day,” Hyunjin eventually joins into the conversation. He had planned to go unnoticed for a bit longer, as he usually does. Since the couch is facing away from the kitchen his chances would have been pretty good if he had stayed quiet. But one has to defend themselves against defamation like that. Yeji scoffs at him, but Hyunjin ignores it in favour of bringing two more glasses to the couch table for Ryujin and Yuna before taking a seat on the bar stool by their little kitchen island.
“Anyways-” Jisu claps her hands together, effectively ending the almost fight- “now that everyone is here, we can finally get to the gifts!”
“Right!” Chaeryoung hurries to get the large bag she had set down in front of the hall stand and takes out two pastel-coloured boxes with ribbons wrapped around them. She smiles sweetly while coming back to the couch. “This is for you.” She hands one the boxes to Yeji before approaching Hyunjin, her smile turning a little more subtle. “And a little something for you.”
What? “For me?” Hyunjin asks while looking at the little mint green box now in his hands. It feels almost weird to accept the gift from Chaeryoung. He isn’t particular close with any of the girls, even less so after Yeji’s injury. Hyunjin can hardly endure being in a room with them for longer than a few minutes, which is why he’s been avoiding that as much as possible. Why would Yeji’s friends get a gift for him?
“Yeah. It’s your birthday too after all. I mean it’s really nothing big, but we wanted to give you a present too.” The tips of Chaeryoung’s ears turn pink as she talks.
“Thank you…” The last time Hyunjin got a gift from someone other than Yeji was ages ago. Aunt Minyoung had never really bothered with gifts; she had taken Hyunjin and Yeji out to eat on their birthday and that had been it. So getting gifts from Yeji’s friends – people who barely even know him – it feels strange. In a good way but still… weird.
Hyunjin unties the sky blue ribbon, lifts the lid of the box and is met with baby pink fluffiness. He reaches inside and pulls out the soft little thing, examining it from up close. “A hairband?” Hyunjin tries not to sound too confused, he really does, but he has no idea how Yeji’s friends got the idea of giving him a hairband.
“Yeji said your hair is getting way too long and keeps bothering you. She joked that she’d have to either buy you a hairband or cut your hair in your sleep,” Ryujin seems downright proud at having exposed Yeji’s slander of Hyunjin’s hair.
“We thought we should intervene before things get out of hand,” Yuna adds to it. Yeji and Ryujin are both giggling behind their hands. With the bit of context, Hyunjin can’t help but laugh as well. It also makes him want to hide all scissors in their apartment and start locking his door before going to bed, but that will have to wait. For now, he sets the box down on the table and starts putting the hairband on, though judging by the new increase in giggles he’s not doing a very good job. Luckily Chaeryoung is quick to come closer and fix the hairband for him.
“There you go,” she chimes, smiling when she takes a step back to observe her work. Somehow Chaeryoung can’t seem to look away. Hyunjin must be a sight with a pink hairband on his head.
“Looking good.” Thankfully, her words turn the room’s attention back to Yeji. Having everyone’s eyes on him was getting weird. Hyunjin and Chaeryoung eventually go to join the others. They push the coffee table against the wall and take a seat on the floor since it’s already a tight squeeze on the couch with Yeji, Ryujin, and Jisu there. As soon as Yeji opens her present, she starts laughing. “That’s a lot of chocolate.”
“Not just chocolate,” Yuna points out with an amused sparkling in her eyes. “There’s something else, but you need to find it first.” All of the girls look incredibly amused when Yeji laughs and starts unloading various chocolate bars, small boxes of filled chocolates and the like one by one. Basically, all her favourite chocolate snacks are featured in this present. Soon the already cramped couch is overflowing with little boxes and packages and Hyunjin starts to wonder how all of that was ever fit into the box.
“I think I found it!” Proudly, Yeji presents the small box she discovered at the bottom of the box. Her eyes grow wide when she opens it and peeks inside. “Oh my god,” she whispers while lifting a necklace out of the box and taking a closer look at it. The necklace consists of a rather plain, thin, golden chain with a flat heart shaped pendant dangling from it. “You really got that engraved?”
As the only one not involved in the gift, Hyunjin is absolutely clueless. He leans closer to Chaeryoung, whispering loud enough for only her to hear. “What does it say?”
Chaeryoung moves even closer before whispering into Hyunjin’s ear. “I believe in myself.” That’s such a sweet gift, considering the special place those words hold in Yeji’s heart. ‘I believe in myself’ has been her preferred motivational phrase since forever, but even more so after her injury.
“That’s a nice idea,” he replies as quietly as possible. Chaeryoung beams proudly and thanks Hyunjin. By now, Ryujin is helping Yeji put on the necklace while Yeji is checking her image with the front camera of Jisu’s phone.
“Thank you all so much. I love the necklace,” Yeji says with a bright smile. “And the chocolate of course.”
“You’re welcome,” the girls reply all at once before breaking into laughter at their unintentional synchronization. Hyunjin can’t help but smile at the whole scene. Yeji’s friends are such a cheerful lot and it always catches onto Yeji as well. She’s more carefree, more joyful around them. No matter how much Hyunjin avoids spending time with Yeji’s friends, he will always be grateful for everything they do for her.
“So now that the most important item on the agenda is done, how about we watch a movie?” Ryujin suggests when the laughter quiets down.
“Why do I feel like you already have something specific in mind?” Hyunjin scoots closer to the TV console filled with their CDs, DVDs and so on. It’s mostly old, but nonetheless valued, stuff: movies they already watched as kids, their first CDs and music their parents used to listen too.
“Howl’s moving castle,” Yuna suggests. Her face lights up when Yeji squeals in excitement. It’s Yeji’s favourite movie. Or rather their favourite movie, but Hyunjin doubts he really played a role in that choice. While Hyunjin turns to search for the right DVD, Ryujin switches on the TV. Whitin a second, the light atmosphere sours. Hyunjin grows tense when he looks up at the TV and realises why: the news channel that’s currently on is showing a report about yesterday’s Stray Kids attack. Hearing the words of the news lady makes Hyunjin’s blood freeze solid, even though he already checked the reports. Usually seeing the newscast after their missions isn’t this much of a problem – which is not to say it isn’t difficult – but now, with all of Yeji’s friends here, Hyunjin desperately wants to get away from here as soon as possible. How the hell is he supposed to not expose himself in front of everyone when the newsreader is talking about the injured Private?
“That reminds me.” Yuna’s voice sounds like it’s miles away. “I wanted to ask you how things are going with work. Were you at the attack yesterday?”
“No, sadly not. My unit said I need to really prepare myself first. I don’t want to rush things and end up being a burden to them. I want to make sure I’m actually ready before stepping out with everyone else,” Jisu explains.
“Then where were you during the attack?” Chaeryoung chimes in. Hyunjin can feel himself grow more and more and more nervous every time one of them speaks up. His heartbeat is hammering in his ears. He turns his head directs a pleading look at Yeji, hoping that she will be able to help somehow. But judging by her expression, she doesn’t know how to stop the conversation without being suspicious either. The DIT is an important topic for Yeji’s friends and trying to stop them whenever they talk about it or Stray Kids would soon catch the girl’s attention.
“I stayed in the rooms of the investigation team together with a lot of the other new members. Bang Chan and Park Kwangsun were there too. It was so weird to be around them.” Rather than just weirded out, Jisu sounds outright disgusted though. “I mean I know they were questioned by Lieutenant Yoon and all and officially help us now, but it just feels wrong to trust them. They’ve caused so much damage and harm and yet they were sitting there like regular members of the investigation team.”
The words cut through Hyunjin like knives. It’s so easy to forget what the average citizen thinks of Stray Kids when he’s living his regular life. This is like a hit in the face. If that’s Jisu’s opinion on Nine and Kkul – or rather Bang Chan and Park Kwangsun – what would she think of him who’s still out there going on missions? What would all of them think? Hyunjin takes a look at the girls and feels more and more stings in his heart realising that none of them would let him anywhere near Yeji anymore if they had any idea he’s a member of Stray Kids. When he meets Yeji’s gaze, she seems to know exactly what’s going on in Hyunjin’s head. There’s so much sadness in her eyes. A silent “I’m sorry.” hangs between them, which only makes Hyunjin feel worse. Yeji is the last person who should feel sorry for this situation. She’s the one suffering the most knowing that the most important people in her life are pitted against each other.
“I need to go,” Hyunjin blurts out before his brain can even think about it. “Totally forgot. My boss asked me to come in earlier today and help with stocktaking.”
A frown flickers across Yeji’s face but she’s quick to get it under control again. “Do you really have to go? Can’t someone else do it?”
“I’m afraid not. Sorry, ladies.” It’s hard to endure the pitying looks Ryujin, Yuna, Chaeryoung and Jisu give him. Poor birthday boy can’t even enjoy the party because he has to work. They have no idea. They don’t know anything. Hopefully they never will. “I wish you lots of fun, everyone. Don’t do anything stupid. And leave a piece of cake for me.”
Hyunjin quickly goes to his room and throws his door shut, feeling a bit of relief from just being out of the girls’ view. He releases a shaky breath and tries to collect himself. Hyunjin needs to get out of here as quickly as possible, he can’t bear this any longer. The looks, the talking about Stray Kids, everything. Hyunjin grabs his bag, drapes it over his shoulder, strides towards the door.
“Be careful!” Yeji calls when he’s already halfway through the door.
“Will do!” Bam. Silence. Peace. Loneliness. Now that Hyunjin’s alone in the hallway, he can barely hold back the tears any longer. He tries to stay as quiet as possible while hurrying into the elevator. Only when the doors close does he allow himself to really let go. Hyunjin quickly presses as many buttons as possible before letting himself sink to the ground. More and more sobs shake through his body as he hugs his legs to his chest. He has no idea how Yeji was able to handle this situation. All her friends developed a hatred for Stray Kids, or any sort of resistance really, after what happened to her. Hyunjin can’t even imagine how much pain he would be in if all of his friends hated his sister to death.
[-]
On his way home, Seungmin feels nothing but exhausted. Usually meeting up with I.N is fun, even though they have to be careful not to draw any attention towards them. But after yesterday’s events, I.N was still upset and their meeting became draining. Seungmin had hoped hanging out together would lift his spirits a bit, but it hadn’t done much good. Maybe it had been stupid of Seungmin to think cheering I.N up would be that easy. He shot at somebody else just yesterday. It must have been very traumatic for him. Thankfully, by now news has gotten out that the soldier in question is only mildly injured. Seungmin doesn’t want to know what it would do to I.N if he had caused serious or even lethal harm to someone. He can’t imagine what that would have been like for I.N, knowing he risked or much worse took someone’s life.
Despite the meeting with I.N having been rougher than expected, Seungmin doesn’t feel relieved when he’s standing in front of his home. As much as he loves his family, he doesn’t like being around any of them after missions. Every look, every word riles him up, makes him feel like they’re seeing right through him. It’s ridiculous and Seungmin knows it, but that doesn’t stop this horrible feeling from clawing its way into his chest. He doesn’t bother saying anything when he enters the house. Excellent ears run in the family;  everyone knows he’s home. Though rather than a voice, the noise of the TV greets Seungmin. It sounds like a newscast. Damnit. Of course, they’re watching the news. They’re always watching the news. Seungmin walks closer to the living room and peaks through the door, feeling a bit relieved when he realizes the report is about some sports team.
“Where were you?” Seungmin’s mother turns around as soon as she notices him. “You said you were going to be home for dinner.” Right, he did say that. Somehow he had completely forgotten about that while he was with I.N.
“I’m sorry. One of my friends is kind of going through a rough time and needed help.” It’s the closest to the truth Seungmin can be. He hates lying, especially to his family, but saying he helped a friend isn’t actually a lie. In a way he and I.N are friends after all. Though a regular person probably wouldn’t consider someone whose name they don’t know their friend. That doesn’t change anything for Seungmin though. The members mean a lot to him, real names or not.
“During the attack, a member of the DIT was injured. According to the officials, the injury is only minor.”
The words make Seungmin freeze up. He hadn’t noticed when the news had moved on to the recent Stray Kids attack. “Uhm,” he stammers, trying to regain his composure. Damnit, he had managed to avoid seeing news about their missions in the presence of his family for so long. Why did exactly this mission have to break the streak? “Leftovers are in the fridge?” Finally, an idea.
“Yes,” Minseo confirms. “We made sure to leave enough for you.” Her smile is so sweet it hurts Seungmin that it doesn’t feel genuine to him right now. It just stresses him out even more. Thinking that his sister knows what’s going on, where he was or with whom is ridiculous. Minseo has no way of knowing he’s part of Stray Kids and if she did she wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly. But Seungmin can’t help it. When it gets to hiding his identity, he sees the worst everywhere.
“Thanks.” Seungmin turns on his heel and heads into the kitchen. He quickly grabs himself some food for himself and runs upstairs. When he reaches his room, he puts everything down on his desk and lets himself plop down on his chair. Seungmin closes his eyes and gathers himself. He’s alone. He’s safe. Nobody knows he’s DaN. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.
If only it was really that easy.
[-]
“Damn, I thought I was early,” Yeonjun notes while dropping his bag in front of the lockers. He isn’t entirely wrong. Despite going grocery shopping for lack of a better alternative, Hyunjin ended up coming in a lot earlier than needed. The emptiness of the bar was just too appealing to pass up on. This must be the first time he’s been here before Yeonjun; of course that wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“Ah yeah, my plans for the evening got cancelled so I thought I’d come in a little earlier, clean the counter and all.” Hyunjin is aware of how ridiculous his explanation sounds. Who the hell goes to work when they have free time? As expected, Yeonjun doesn’t seem convinced. Not one bit.
“Sure, because what else would you do when you have some time to spare?” Despite his words, Yeonjun doesn’t push it, instead starting to change into his uniform. Hyunjin turns his head away to give Yeonjun some privacy. Well, as much privacy as one can have while changing in a cramped room with another person in it. “Did you already refill the straws and napkins?”
“Yup.” Hyunjin nods even though Yeonjun probably isn’t looking at him. “Everything done.”
“Great, thanks.” Yeonjun walks over to the mirror, fixes a few strands of his auburn dyed hair before turning towards Hyunjin. “Since we have some time left before costumers come and we have no other job to kill time with, are you going to tell me what you’re running away from?” That much on not pushing it. Of course Yeonjun wouldn’t just let it slide.
“I had a fight with my sister,” Hyunjin lies, despite feeling horrible about telling more lies. The fact that he has gotten so used to this makes it even worse. He just comes up with stuff like this on the spot and is able to keep a straight face like it’s nothing. Admittedly, he isn’t always convincing. That’s only a matter of time though. Hyunjin knows he should be grateful for that ability, but he hates it. “I forgot to do the laundry and things kind of… escalated.” At this point, getting to be honest about things that aren’t related to Stray Kids in any way has become a relief. Something as simple as being allowed to mention Yeji already makes things feel a little easier. More normal. It’s so trivial, but Hyunjin enjoys still getting to speak some truth about himself.
Yeonjun nods despite the fact that he doesn’t really seem to buy it yet again. “And you’re hoping that will solve itself if you go to work?”
“Not exactly, but I needed to get out of our apartment,” Hyunjin explains. At the very least, that part is true. He couldn’t have stayed with the girls a single second longer. “Also, by the time I come home she’s going to be asleep. So we’ll have lots of time to calm down and talk about everything again tomorrow.”
Yeonjun shakes his head at Hyunjin’s reasoning. “If you ask me, you should do that laundry before your sister gets up.”
“Yeah, I’ll try.”
Yeonjun changes the rest of the way in silence. When he’s done, they walk over into the main room. It’s still too early for costumers and since Hyunjin already prepared everything there’s not really anything to do. Thankfully the topic of his alleged fight with Yeji stayed in the locker room. Hyunjin really would not have wanted to try and justify this stupid laundry story any longer. Their chatter now is kind of boring, but Hyunjin definitely prefers that over lies and excuses. For lack of a better way to pass their time, he and Yeonjun start examining the bottles on their work surface, checking which of them are close to empty and will have to be replaced soon. The downside of being busy with the bottles is that their conversation dies down, which leaves Hyunjin way too alone with the negative thoughts and memories of the party.
“Hyunjin-oppa! Finally!” Chaeryoung’s voice has never sounded this troubled, at least Hyunjin has never heard her like this. Of course three missed calls and urgent sounding messages weren’t going to be a good sign, but the panic in her voice seems more extreme than Hyunjin expected.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Every rapid heartbeat made Hyunjin even more nervous. Chaeryoung wouldn’t call him like this if it wasn’t serious. She never calls him. She barely even messages him. And since she apparently insisted on calling him specifically, there was only one possible reason. “Is something wrong with Yeji?”
“Yes she-” Chaeryoung gulped as though it was hard for her to speak. Hyunjin couldn’t take the wait, the moment felt like an eternity. “We’re in the hospital. The Red Cross Hospital. Please come here as soon as you can.” Hospital. Yeji was in hospital. Fuck. Hyunjin couldn’t stop the memories from crashing down on him: following the nurse through the hallways, knocking at the big dark door, walking into the sterile room. The images felt like dozens of bricks pressing down on Hyunjin’s chest. He could barely breathe.
“I’m on my way.” His voice sounded choked up, but Hyunjin couldn’t care less. He needed to see Yeji, see if she was fine. Even if it meant going to a hospital. What could have possibly happened? Part of Hyunjin wished that he had asked more questions, but Chaeryoung hadn’t sounded like she was in the right condition for lengthy explanations. Maybe there wasn’t time either. Fuck, Hyunjin needed to hurry.
The ride was hell to say the least. Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from being nervous and fidgety. It didn’t help one bit that he had just come home from a mission that was now flickering across the screens in the subway. A weird feeling started spreading through Hyunjin when the news lady started talking about civilians getting hurt. That simply wasn’t possible. There were hardly any people around when they attacked, and the DIT was supposed to keep civilians away, so how would any of them get close enough to get injured? It was probably a lie, propaganda against them. That had to be it.
Getting out of the subway and that damned news report made Hyunjin feel a bit better, but only momentarily. Every step towards his destination made his heart race even faster and chest feel even tighter. Hyunjin hated hospitals. A hospital was the last place he wanted to be at, but there was no way around it. He would have to get his act together. For Yeji.
Hyunjin let himself be led into the waiting room by one of the nurses at the front desk, freezing when he saw Yeji’s friends. The girls looked like they had rolled around on the ground of a construction side. Their hair and clothing were covered in dust. Taking a closer look, Hyunjin noticed their reddened eyes, as though they had been crying. He also spotted several band aids on them and other, smaller cuts that weren’t covered. Ryujin had a bandage around her head. Hyunjin guessed all the adults around the girls were their respective parents. He scanned every face in the room, but Yeji wasn’t here. Oh god.
“Oppa!” Chaeryoung got up and jogged towards him. She talked louder than usual; normally her voice was rather quiet. Hyunjin only now realised it wasn’t just panicked, it was almost like she had headphones on and was trying to talk over music.
“What happened?” Sobbing caught Hyunjin’s attention, making him look up to find Yuna crying into her mother’s shoulder. “Where’s Yeji?”
“Stray Kids, they- they attacked the department of education.” No. No that couldn’t be the reason. They were careful. They were always careful. Yeji and her friends weren’t even inside the building; there’s no way they were hit by the explosion. It just couldn’t be. But the evidence was all around Hyunjin. “We were on our way to run some errands when everything blew up behind us-”
“What about Yeji? Is she okay?” Hyunjin could hear the panic in his own voice by now. He just had to know Yeji was okay already.
“I have no idea,” Chaeryoung admitted. Tears started to flood her eyes once again. She couldn’t seem to look up at Hyunjin any longer. “They’re still operating on her.”
“Costumers.”
“What?” Hyunjin’s head snapped up. Gone are the white walls and blindingly bright lights. The room is dark grey, the light subdued. This isn’t a hospital. Thank god. It takes a while until Hyunjin is able to focus on Yeonjun in front of him. “What did you say?”
Yeonjun doesn’t get to answer since he’s already taking some guy’s order. Still feeling a bit fuzzy, Hyunjin checks his watch. 8.03. They’re actually open by now. He must have zoned out for quite a while. As soon as the costumer is sent off with his drinks, Yeonjun turns towards Hyunjin again. “Had a nice time in dreamland?”
“Not really,” Hyunjin admits. The memory is still heavy like chains around his heart. He really tries his best not to remember that day, but sometimes it all just comes crashing onto him. Tonight is going to be anything but pleasant, Hyunjin already knows that. He never sleeps well on days like this, no matter how tired he is after his shift.
Yeonjun steps closer, speaking in a low voice. “Is this still about your sister?”
“Yeah.” Hyunjin takes a look around, making sure the two only costumers they have are far enough away. “I feel so bad for what happened. I should have just done the laundry and not started a fight about it.” Yes, very convincing. He got overwhelmed by the traumatic experience of fighting over household chores.
“Agreed.” Yeonjun smiles and pats Hyunjin’s back. “Hey, I’m sure if you apologise and do the laundry everything will be fine.”
“I guess you’re right…”
“Of course I am,” Yeonjun sounds almost offended Hyunjin would ever assume anything else. “That’s why you listen to your elders.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “You say it as though you’re some 106 year old wise guy of the town. You’re one year older than me.”
“One year can make a lot of difference.” Yeonjun wags his finger in Hyunjin’s face. “Talk to me again in one year and see how much has changed.” Hyunjin tries to think of a comeback, but before his brain can provide him with anything another group of costumers walks in. Yeonjun winks at Hyunjin before going back to the counter and accepting the first order. Sighing, Hyunjin straightens his back, puts his costumer service smile on and starts helping Yeonjun prepare the drinks.
[-]
They’re really getting training now. Somehow just the thought lets a smile bloom on Kwangsun’s face. After all, none of the higher-ups would have agreed on sending them off to missions if they didn’t trust him and Chan, right? Okay, maybe trust is too strong of a word for that, but it’s definitely a good sign. In their situation every little step forward should be celebrated. Especially steps like this.
Kwangsun has a slight skip in his step as he walks into the kitchen, starting to look for stuff he can use to cook dinner for them. Though since they haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, there’s not really a lot to work with. They only have rice and noodles to be precise. Yup, plain rice would make a great celebration meal. Maybe Kwangsun should go grocery shopping? It’s not that late yet, he could go buy more ingredients to cook some proper meal for them. Kimchi jjigae would be awesome. If he’s already out and about, he should buy more than just the ingredients though. Some snacks wouldn’t hurt either. And they’re short on tissues and apple juice. Is there anything else? Kwangsun feels like he’s forgetting something. Don’t they need more shampoo too? Or is it soap? The answer feels within his reach but Kwangsun can’t quite grasp it.
“Chan-ah?” he calls, already leaving the kitchen. There’s no way both of them forgot, right? Plus, Chan might have wishes of his own, which Kwangsun would be happy to fulfil if Chan just replied. Still starved for a reply, Kwangsun walks down the hallway and opens the door to Chan’s room. “I’m going gro-”
Kwangsun freezes in the door frame, completely still. He forgot to knock, which was a mistake. Chan specifically requested it when they moved in. How did he not remember something that simple? Just having come out of the shower, Chan is still shirtless. That by itself really wouldn’t be a big deal if it wasn’t for the long, faint pink lines raking over Chan’s back. Most of them crisscross over his spine at the height of his ribcage, but some extend to his shoulders as well as lower back.
Chan’s entire back is covered in scars.
It only now dawns upon Kwangsun that he’s never seen Chan without a shirt, not even when in the practice room today. How did Chan even manage to change that quickly? And how come Kwangsun hadn’t realized how much Chan must have hurried to hide this? Or questioned how urgently Chan had insisted that Kwangsun knocks whenever he enters his room?
“What the fucking hell are you doing here?!” The aggression in Chan’s voice is so foreign. He’s never sounded like this, not during missions or while discussing plans or anything. Kwangsun’s heart drops to his knees. Chan is scary right now. His jaw is set and his face pulled into a scowl. His gaze has an intensity that has Kwangsun’s throat go dry. This is bad, this is really bad. Chan stumbles backwards and presses himself against his closet while trying to cover himself with the shirt in his hands. The mixture of anger and horror on Chan’s face makes Kwangsun feel like a monster, as though he murdered Chan’s family right in front of his very eyes.
“I’m sorry, I-” Kwangsun can’t seem to form proper words. He honestly has no idea what he would even say except apologising for barging into Chan’s room like that. Though he feels like an apology won’t cut it.
“Get out!” Chan screams, losing his patience. Kwangsun has never heard Chan yell before. “Get the hell out! Leave me alone!” He comes closer as though he’s planning to personally drag Kwangsun out of the room. Kwangsun nods hastily and rushes outside as quickly as possible. His heart is racing like crazy when the door slams shut behind him. The abstract painting on the wall next to Kwangsun trembles with the force of it.
“And fucking knock next time!”
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ariadnaes · 3 years
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╭﹒❍﹒𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖑 — a writeblr re-introduction.
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⋆˚﹆⟠﹒𝕮HRISTENING ! 
hi, my name’s aurora (aura / rora) and i use she/her pronouns! i was previously @winteranarchy on writeblr but i’ve decided to rebrand and reintroduce myself. my writing will be posted here on this blog and a list of my current projects can be found on this page, but i’ll also start being more active on my writing twitter @rorawrites. you can also find me at my main @warstorm which is my litblr where i post and reblog edits.  i’m a scorpio, slytherin, i/entj and vietnamese-australia. i’m a lover of literature and mythology as well as classical and fantasy novels and some of my favourite books include the night circus, the picture of dorian gray and perfume: the story of a murderer. please feel free to add me to any of your tag lists or chat with me through my inbox or dms, i’d love to get to know more you lovely people and get acquainted with your writing too !
projects and taglist below the cut.
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⋆˚﹅♡⃕﹒𝕿HE 𝖁ISION !
₀₁・𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐
— The first installment in the Iron Star Duology.
Crimson Falling is the story of tempests, of serpents and of saints. It is the story of blood and the tragic fates of the decadent and the cunning. After a night of hallucinated memories leading to their nemesis’ body found floating in the school’s lake, a group of seven students become ensnared within a plot to cover up what they believe to be blood upon their hands. They soon begin to realise that their academy is not what it seems upon the surface, as they begin to unearth the curious evils that lie within the institute and the secrets thought lost and buried alongside the dead heiress.
introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag
₀₂・𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜
— The first installment in the Silver Sun Trilogy.
The court has descended into madness. In a land where daylight rises and cedes in a cycle of seven weeks, a kingdom has awoken at the first fall of sun to their beloved monarchs beheaded; murdered by their own son and heir to their throne. The crown now falls into the lap of the youngest prince, a boy who never planned to hold such great power and had no clue on how to keep it. Amidst the battle for his rightful throne, Prince Castiel must not only deal with the rebellion that his brother ignited and his sister’s mysterious disappearance but also travel to the ends of the land to find the last enchantress, the only one who can save his decaying soul, before the sun sets on the seventh week. In a land of deceit, ambition and betrayal; with only one crown to be claimed and a desperate, incumbent prince determined to keep it in the wake of his parent’s assassination, tensions have never be higher within the Court of Silver Suns.
introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag
₀₃・𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚢𝚙𝚛𝚞𝚜
— A short story retelling of Pygmalion and Galatea set in the Decadent Era and inspired by Frankenstein, The Picture of Dorian Gray and Perfume: the story of a murderer.
When a single drop of blood falls into a sea of foaming sapphire and azure hues, a monster of beautiful destruction is created. The Birth of Venus catalyses within its sweeping strokes, an even greater beauty that it beholds; but even from the same likeness of the goddess, the Mériadec portrait outshines its predecessor both in aestheticism and in gore. At an Italian gallery exhibit in the year 1817, French portrait painter, Pascal Mériadec, is challenged by scornful critics to commission a portrait more beautiful than Venus herself. With each brush of paint upon his canvas, Mériadec slowly begins to fall obsessively in love with the woman in the frame; spending every waking hour with the girl whom he has named Eglantine, the Lady of Cyprus. Filled with the desperate desire for the love he shared with Eglantine to be real, the artist would do anything in his power to bring her to life, even if it meant leaving death in his wake.
introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag
₀₄・𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚕��𝚞𝚡
— The first installment in the Pantheon Duology.
A world basked in ivory and gold, painted with age old myth upon every surface; hides the flaws of a government whose corruption will cause the downfall of their people. Unbeknownst to the revelling and immoral power of the city, the seeds of rebellion have long since been planted, flowers now blooming in the cracked pavement where blood and tears have watered them. The House of Pollux, one organisation in a triumvirate of self-proclaimed saviours, has set their sights on overthrowing the government and fighting the rising discord that threatens the city. Seven abducted prodigies, stolen from homes that have never belonged to them and from names they will never remember, are tasked with the infiltration and assassination of their country’s leader. These gifted individuals who have grown where the light has not found them, have now come forth to reclaim the world that belongs to them and to save the country from the clutches of beautiful tyrants. And thus glorious mutiny arises, in the name of the Pantheon.
introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag
₀₅・𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚢
— Standalone Novel (possibility of a prequel novella).
Eternity appears to be a rather long time for punishment, no matter how malicious the criminal was, however, in her liminal state drifting between immortality and mortality, the Empress didn't care, rather she loved it. The Duchess of the Netherworld floats between beautiful places, corrupting them with her presence, rendering victims mad only for her mere entertainment. And when she tires of her station, she finds herself a new arena for her twisted games, each time a new setting that she has only dreamt of in her eternal torture. She does not greet you as you are welcomed through the entrance of The Winter Anarchy; an opera house of such opulence and decadence so uncommon to mankind. The vestibules of hell embrace your tortured and devious soul and you are welcomed like the mad sinner that you are. You are not dead though, not quite yet at least. She has saved you from such a fate for now and you really ought to thank her for her ill intended grace. You are a puppet, merely here to play a game… her game. Win and you shall be graced with the eternal glory, freedom and power of beings such as she is but lose and you must pay the most treacherous price for every drop of unholy blood running through your veins.
introduction (coming soon!) | wip page | wip tag
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taglist. (tagging a few friends, mutuals and writeblrs that i admire. let me know if you would like to be added or removed from future taglists!) @vaelinor . @kalliopeian . @veiliza . @rapunzelle . @aeternve . @laythe . @xiyais . @queen-of-dust . @bintiskandar . @theheartbreakclub . @elizaabennet . @duskbourne . @ortolon . @sourrcandy . @atelierwriting . @sprigofbasil . @serpentarii . @herondalelucies . @thetragediies . @chuchoters . @parsel-tongue . @arkicts . @ikilledmyocs​ . @hiswraith​ . @oasis-of-you​
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kahaaniyaa · 3 years
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It was already too late. The choices were made. Destiny was chosen.
Title: Our Treacherous Paths
Type: novel
Genre: ya fantasy
Status: first draft
POV: third limited, multiple
Tense: past tense
Themes: determination, found family, lgbtq+ rep, revenge, secrets, betrayal, romance, grief, death, trauma
—SYNOPSIS
A secret. A revenge. A betrayal.
Some wars perhaps never end when they are thought to have.
As the story goes, its been ten years. Ten years since the sudden war between Vaatika and Orden. Ten years since the defeat of Vaatika. And ten years since the kingdom of Vaatika has been left in ashes.
But there are secrets. And there's much too many mysteries left behind in those ashes.
Kiran, on a mission, is wandering outside her kingdom, Orden, where she gets entangled into the lives of three Vaatikans searching for a way into Orden. When she gets recruited by them, she soon realizes that the kingdom of Orden might not have been the saviour ten years ago as everyone believed. As the consequences of ten years prior starts to cause chaos, it falls on Kiran, Vihaan, Alisha and Afreen to bring out the truth. But in between people who have trusted and told her the truth more than anyone else in her life, Kiran is holding a secret. A secret which threatens their shaky alliance. One, she is determined to not let out.
CHARACTERS :–
Kiran Shah: Stuck between court schemes, secrets and lies, she has to make her own choice, and choose her side before its too late.
Kingdom: Orden
Vihaan Bakshi: Heart full of love for his kingdom and vengeful for its destruction, he awaits the moment when the kingdom of Orden falls.
Kingdom: Vaatika
Afreen Ali: An artist stuck between her duty and passion, yearns for freedom of those wronged ten years ago.
Kingdom: Vaatika
Alisha Basu: Haunted by her past, a soldier biding her time by waiting for her moment of glory to come, she wishes for revenge and to see the kingdom of Orden burn.
Kingdom: Chaalki
Taglist (ask to be +/-): @opes-magnas @taqdeers @jiangsziyas @kishons @gnymedes​ @zoya-writes​ @seas-dubh
Tagging some amazing writeblrs: @rhikasa @mshelleys @yaqarah @the-unwrittenwriter
Special thanks to @myhollowcries for always helping me out <33
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sultanah · 3 years
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@authorsnet​ event 01: first meetings — Najm Abbas and Sana Ahmed
Prequel to OUR VENGEFUL DESIRES
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When one takes the pledge of the Dhimr Academy, one should not intend to break it.
Najm supposed intention was too big a word here. He had not planned to break the pledge, nor had he known that he would. But time had the tendency to alter plans. 
Seven exits. Twenty-four guards on duty. Thirty-six classes in session. One Qubba—one, one, one.
He gasped, hand flying to his head as a blinding pain erupted at his right temple. Najm reached for something to hold onto, trying to steady his steps as fire spread through his mind, his own skin hot to the touch.
Focus. Let the details come to you.
Seven exits. Because this was the largest academy in Arijwan, the most prestigious. One only highly qualified Sahera—or in his case, highly rare—were privy to attend. Twenty-four guards. He had counted the few lining the roof, as well. For insurance. Thirty-six classes. Because he had memorized the Academy’s schedule his first night here. One Qubba, because there was only one word he remembered his mother shouting on the night she died.
Najm dropped to the floor, his knees hitting the tile with enough force to make him gasp. The pain was receding, white spots now littering his vision instead. He tried to focus on a small beetle, pleasantly tottering along the seam where stone met tile. He let his mind calm for a minute more before trying to stand again.
His professors had developed many words to describe Najm since his arrival—special case was the one he’d come to expect. Ticking bomb was one they favored in his absence.
None of which seemed to adequately clarify why Najm’s affinity was the only one that brought about so much pain.
The Dhimr Academy was an ancient, large building that seemed devoid of light at any time of day. Stone arches made up the halls, diamond-shaped porcelain rising up from the sides in decorative circles. There was no effort spared in perfecting such a prestigious academy. And Najm should have loved it. The Najm he used to be might have. He might have marveled at the intricately carved birds raised against the inside walls. The swirls of color exploding beneath the high-raised dome at the main entrance. Or the library with levels of shelves too high for his reach, and too advanced for his mind.
But he had not been that boy for many months.
He rose on shaky legs, leaning heavily against the wall. If his memory served, and it always had, there were eighteen minutes left before someone—likely a guard, possibly a professor on his way to his next class—noticed that Najm was not where he was supposed to be. And if the headmaster’s threats served as well as Najm’s memory, then he had to get back before then.
“I was told you were clever, but only an idiot would try to sneak past the headmaster’s own office and expect no consequences.” 
Najm startled, his legs nearly giving out under him as he whipped around to face the voice.
A short girl, years too young to be on this floor, with hair cropped under her chin and an amused glint in her dark eyes stood there. Her arms were crossed, head tilted to the side. 
Najm tried to prevent his mind from springing into details but it had already slipped its leash—her concealed fists were clenched, meaning her abilities were currently in use, and since Najm had not heard her approach, that meant she was a Silver. The beige dress she wore fell loosely around her, short sleeves connected to the fabric giving the appearance of a bird’s wings mid-flight. And the Silver threads weaved around the neckline confirmed his theory about her Sahera affinity. A Wielder of Winds. She was too young for this floor, but evidently, her control surpassed her age. She had been moved up a few levels. 
And the only reason she would know the concealed back door to the headmaster’s office was only a few steps away, was if she had been one of the students who had played a prank on him months ago.
“Sana Ahmed,” he said, wincing. He forced his breathing to even. Let the details come to you.
She hummed, a small smile curling her lips, “you are not supposed to be down here.”
Najm swallowed. He was still recovering from his last burst of power, and he knew that any response his mind might generate now would be a lie. He settled for a shrug.
“What happens if they find you?” she said, apparently happy to keep active a one-sided conversation.
Najm said nothing. It hurt too much to lie.
“I’m told I can be reckless,” she added thoughtfully, raising a hand and uncurling her fingers one by one. Around them, abandoned classroom doors were being pushed open by an invisible hand. “Do I want to be here when they find you?”
Najm watched her for a moment longer. There was a door at the end of the hall flanked by two guards on the outside. If she wished to allow it, that door could burst open and they’d both be caught out of class. She looked much too amused at the situation, and Najm had heard enough about the students here to realize none of them truly cared to mind themselves. 
But then, none of them were being forced to come here against their will.
“What do you want?” he said finally. He doubted she even realized what he was offering. A truth. Truths didn’t hurt. Truths were easy, the world was made of them. Truths were the details his mind overflowed with. But not everyone deserved the truth, just because it was there.
Her eyes gleamed with victory and a flick of her wrist slammed shut the few doors she had opened. “Is it true you are a Gold?”
Najm clenched his jaw, the word had already become a sore bruise against his thoughts. “Yes.” 
“Will you let it kill you?” 
Najm was struck for a moment by how matter-of-factly she spoke. When the Kashif had revealed to Najm what his affinity was, his tone had been grave, almost sad. He had told him, your mind is not your own. And then paused. It had occurred to Najm then that at this point an adult might stare meaningfully into his eyes and demand he never forgets their words. 
But he had not understood then that being a Gold meant never forgetting. 
When he spoke again his words were quiet, filled with the fire that haunted his dreams and filled his thoughts. Those same flames turned determined. 
“Never.”
Sana watched him for a moment, her gaze curious. 
“Good,” she decided finally.  She turned away as if to leave before hesitating, glancing back once. It occurred to Najm that while him being there at that exact time, in that exact place was entirely purposeful, Sana had appeared there by coincidence. 
Coincidence, the thought echoed in his own mind, almost mocking. The world is hardly ever that careless.
“Stay,” Sana said, at last, her words quiet. “Neither of us needs to be here alone.”
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— TAGLIST (ask +/-) 
@aeternve; @gnymedes; @hennawar; @kamadevis; @naava-kaiho; @naazyalenksy; @rapunzelle; @revouries; @saifs; @talesofsorrowandofruin; @yaqarah; @adastrals; @chuchoters; @etoilesvp; @fictional-semantics; @herondalelucies; @vaelinor; @chazzawrites; @arkicts; @kalliopeian; @maharaanis; @eduardstudying ; @seamajorshanties;
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starsfallings · 3 years
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꧁•⊹٭𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙺𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿.٭⊹•꧂
↳ a prose-poetry collection by KEXIA Z.
ft. the exploration of love, life & death, and feelings, among other things.
— CONTENTS ;
ONE: MEMORY LANE ISN’T THE SAME WITHOUT YOU. TWO: HALLOWEEN PARTY IN SUMMER. THREE: BEHOLDEN TO THE ONES WHO LIVE NO MORE. FOUR: YOUR SEASONS! THEY’RE OUT OF ORDER.
— WARNINGS ;
· there are many, many mentions of death and methods of dying; please read with care. [ if you are easily triggered, please skip TWO. ] · mention of gambling [ please also skip TWO if triggered. ] · if there is anything i may have missed, feel free to drop me an ask and i’ll get right to it!
— OTHER ;
· song recs: best read with running with the wolves (AURORA) | monsters (ruelle) | virtual reality (renforshort) | &burn (billie eilish ft. vince staples) · thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a like + reblog, and/or drop me an ask with your thoughts! · you can also find me on twitter @zhenkexia
— TAGLIST ;
GENERAL (ask to be +/-) : @lefttigerobservation ONE-TIME (ily) : @charles-joseph-writes 
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maguayans · 3 years
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@writersnet event 1 · april 2021 / mythology
Title: A Glade of Lights
Word Count: 1.4k+ | Warnings: Crime, Dark
Deep in the forest, through a barrier, there was a glade where his demise awaits.
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There was a graveyard with no crosses and tombstones. It was located deep through the thick woods and greenery of the forest. A clearing where the moon served as its marker, for those who’d want to lead themselves astray and for him.
No prayers were offered, no candles were lit. Even if anyone did, it’s not what they wanted. Its existence remained a mystery. The villagers stood countless warnings around the forest to keep everyone safe. And no one ever went there, not since few town daredevils never came back.
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The civil guards stationed in the village were on the lookout for a criminal, a serial murderer. He was the first one in the history of the entire colony. He was a menace, targeting women and children. No matter who they are, how rich or poor, as long as they’d satisfy him. Their pleading cries and muffled screams for help were music to his ears. No one had escaped his grasps.
He was fast like the wind, slippery like an eel. A master of disguise too. On most days, he would be an Indio, a sweaty native plowing the fields, seemingly hard at work, but attentive to any unfamiliar onlookers and civil guards out of uniform. Sometimes, he’d be an Ilustrado, prim and proper. One of the young men in line for succession clad in suits, privileged with the highest quality of education available. And no one would ever think such a man would taint themselves with blood and crime. An immature notion, really. Around these parts, intellect comes with power. And power deranges a man.
No one knew what he really was.
With the number of lives increasing than their arrests, the civil guards grew mad and strict. They were ordered to patrol for longer hours, even beyond the pay grade they received. The first murder was that of a native woman, but no one seated in law enforcement cared. Not until a Principalia had demanded his daughter’s assailant be found. Ever since then, civil guards had taken records of every murder committed with the same motif.
Tonight, he was on his third kill of the year, seventeen overall. He carved the number on the back of the body, keeping count of his deed. And a reminder of his pursuers’ incompetence. The blood streaming off the woman’s body colored the white sheets like art often seen inside the Galleons.
With his bloody shirt and knife in hand, he carefully slipped out of the victim’s home. But the natives have prayed every day and night for his arrest; and for Sitan to take him to the depths of his punishing realm and make him suffer after he dies. And when he heard the shouts of civil guards, he ran.
His fast steps took him through the farming field towards the forest, confident of his speed to stir away from the bullets’ path. No one had ever caught sight of him before, and he’s determined to keep it that way.
He rustled through many bushes and skipped over dead woods. The forest was oddly loud, as if the guardians were helping him escape the guards. Or perhaps protesting his inhumanity.
Then, everything went silent—no stridulating of crickets, footsteps of the civil guards, or even the low howl of the wind.
He passed through the barrier, finally.
The moon shined brightly where he stood as he composed himself. The civil guards seemed to have lost their way when he reached the clearing. But he remained on alert. The area was quite odd, it looked as if it didn’t belong with the rest of the forest. It was a world of its own.
And it felt too familiar to him.
A thin mist was masking the woods around the clearing and the dew sparkled like crystals reflecting the moonlight. He felt as if the guardians of the forest were indeed helping him escape his demise.
But he stood corrected.
A floating ball of blue ligh—No, a floating blue fireball appeared in front of him. He was frozen, the proximity of it too close.
Everyone who grew up in the village, in the entire archipelago knew what it is. To outsiders, it could only be a mere weather phenomenon. But to natives and believers, they’re much more than what the current science perceived it to be.
Santelmo, a fireball soaring above ground. The same one in front of him right now. He never believed those folklores. Those tall tales. Stories elders used to tell children to keep them inside at night. Deranged narratives fishermen rambled on while they drown themselves in Tubâ.
Natives believed that a Santelmo brings bad luck to those who’d see it, causing confusion and misdirection, especially to travelers. A creature derived from the soul of those who was murdered, their graves unmarked in isolated places such as this mystic glade.
Another fireball appeared behind the first one. Then another. And another one, until the whole clearing seemed to be filled by its blazing blue light.
Slowly, the first one turned to face him. Its calm visage and long limbs finally in sight. It had a face of a woman, much like the one he encountered earlier; the blood of her still drying on his clothes, sticking on his skin.
Something was drawing him to touch the glowing creature. And he did. True to what the stories told, the fire didn’t burn him, but he felt extremely cold; colder than the sea at night.
He held the creature in his hands, completely captured by its light. The Santelmo’s eyes opened abruptly, startling him. He took a step back but he couldn’t remove his hands. He was starting to feel much colder than a moment ago. Its long limbs reach out to his face, imitating his action. That’s when he realized, he was done for.
What he didn’t know about these particular Santelmos, was that they existed for a reason—revenge. And this glade was made specifically for him.
Once his eyes were locked with the Santelmo’s fiery ones, and his hand completely intact with it, he was sent to a deep spiral of memories. Reels of someone else’s life kept flashing in front of him at the speed of light. It felt like he was reliving her life from the moment her eyes laid upon the world until the moment she died.
But her death wasn’t natural. She was murdered. The poor woman was taken advantage of when she was sleeping. She was tied with the rips of her thin sheets to the frame of her wooden bed. She pleaded for him to stop, for mercy. But the man holding her down was getting worried the neighborhood would wake. He was quick to shatter the lamp on her bedside and used the largest shard to strike her heart and stop it from beating.
He was the man. He killed her.
The man stumbled back, out of breath and in excruciating pain. He was mortified, questioning everything he’d ever done. The pleasure all those crimes gave him was replaced with horror. Every hit he had on those women, he felt it too. And he didn’t want them for himself.
But it was too late for him to realize that. Too late to turn a new leaf, too late to ask for forgiveness. The gods had already sealed his fate.
The rest of the Santelmos, closed in on him., surrounding him with their cold heat and blinding blue light. All of them had their limbs reaching down for him, eager to have him a taste of what he had done. To feel the knife on his back, carving a number with a knife. To have him feel the blood spilling out of their bodies with his every strike.
That’s what they all wanted. Something a prayer nor a lit candle could never achieve.
Every blazing hand that touched him made him go through all their lives at once. He kept shouting for help, hoping the civil guards could hear him beyond the barrier of the glade. Whatever verdict they plan to cast upon him was certainly better than this.
There was no hope for him, not anymore. He took the hope of many, hope for a future. Hope for many things. So why would he deserve it?
His mind couldn’t take much more of it, but he kept feeling every emotion they had while still alive. The pain he caused coursed through his body until his whole being gave up, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
And died.
One by one, the Santelmos disappeared, their purpose finally achieved. The barrier of the glade was no more. And when morning came, civil guards had found the body of a man, crows gathered around him. He was the man they were pursuing all night. The man who was a serial murderer, the first one in the history of the colony.
And he will never kill again.
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Glossary:
I threw a few terms in the story (all italicized) that might not be familiar to everyone who read it. So, here’s a list.
Civil guards – or guardia civil, the law enforcement during the colonial era in the Philippines.
Indio – a term Spanish colonizers used to refer to the locals and natives of the archipelago, usually with the intent to insult.
Ilustrado – basically those who were able to avail education during the colonial era.
Principalia – the noble, ruling class.
Galleons – in the story, I was referring to the cargo ships used in the Galleon Trade.
Tubâ – a Filipino alcoholic drink made from the sap of palm trees. I tried it before, not my drink. LOL.
Sitan – basically, Satan, guardian of Kasamaan (which is Hell.)
Santelmo – I describe this creature as a blue fireball, with a face and long limbs. In the illustration of this book, a Santelmo looked like this:
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A note from Aye:
Thank you for reading! I met the deadline! Honestly, I was struggling to finish this very very short story. I hope the story was an interesting read and I hope it was okay overall (especially to writersnet. Thank you for having this event! Hope y’all are well and having a great day/night!) This is the first time I’m submitting my work for a writeblr event so I’m kind of nervous about it.
Again, thank you for reading. Have a great day/night!
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asablehart · 3 years
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The Third Son - Week Nine Update
(3/10) Sorry this is a bit late! Anyway I’m gonna start dating these so I can keep track of them better.
 Here’s the link to the last update.
Word count: 72k Chapters: Fifteen complete, three in progress
Okay honestly this week I just drew a bunch of portraits instead of writing, but in my defense I think they’re pretty pretty.
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But I really need to get back on the drafting train because my girlfriend resident editor is all caught up.
The good news is that I’m drafting chapter 16 and that’s when Malory comes back into the plotline 🎊
Anyway, here’s an excerpt:
Behind me, Lœthekate’s hand fell on my shoulder. “What a sight isn’t it?” 
In the distance, water dripped.
“It’s enough to make a man furious, isn’t it? Sure, you can fix this. But what a waste, don’t you think? A waste of weeks of careful therapies. Do they care for you, your education, so little? It’s enough to drive one to violence, I would think.”
Taglist:  @junekinn​​ @clypso​​ @castironbitch​​ @kirsten-is-writing​​ @writer-rae​​ @hypocriticaltalkingseal​​ @vorskra​ @anomaly00​ @metanoiamorii​ @haldimilks​ @chishiio​ @inky-duchess​ @bauliya​ @carminasolis​ @7devills​
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titaniaen-archived · 5 years
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— introductions
    What do we build on?    As artists, as authors, as writers, how do we create in this digital age, where everything lasts forever but nothing is immortal?    Stop caring about the immortal. While the Kings of Medieval Europe were downing gold leaf trying to expand their fleeting lifetimes, Christine de Pizan sat at her writing desk, toiling away at her manuscript. The Romantics died early from consumption and vice. Their virtue, though, is in their legacy: nothing is immortal, not on this planet. Alchemists did not find immortality in a Philosopher’s Stone. No one has ever found immortality. It was not meant for mortal worlds.    So what do we build on? Foundations are key to legacies, and must be long-lasting. How do we leave our mark if it won’t last? And if it won’t last, why bother writing at all?    That is the point: it will not last. Not forever. It could last the twenty minutes it’s posted to Archive of Our Own, or centuries in a cave covered in sea salt.    The point is that it will not last into forever; the point is that it exists now.    A writer doesn’t need a foundation to build on. I don’t need a foundation to build upon.    I don’t need a bedrock to anchor my writing to.    Laptop, pen and paper, chalk to a wall, it doesn’t matter. I just need something to write with.
— details
    hello— i’m jane, xix, from canada. i’ve been writing for as long as i can remember, and this is just carrying on a habit that i can hopefully turn into a tradition. i mostly write fantasy & short stories, with a little bit of other genres mixed in.     so, here we are— welcome to my writeblr! since it’s new, there will most definitely be a few kinks to iron out, so please bear with me. so far my about and projects pages are completed. the tags page isn’t done at all, and neither is my character page; those will come somewhere in the near future.
— projects
BRIGHT THE MOON —     DAGMAR WAS NOT A DREAMER.     high fantasy, na, novel-length.
A SILVER FORTUNE —     TAKE UP THE PEN FOR A FORGERY.     alternative historical fiction, na, novel-length.
CROWNS LAID BARE —    BROKEN HEARTS, GREEDY CROWNS.     high fantasy, ya, novel length.
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yikescomma · 5 years
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wow, what a way to come back off hiatus!!
thanks everyone for your continued support of this blog and my writing endeavors <3!!
so i’m doing a little celebration!! here’s what you can do (up until 11:59pm on september 15th, aest):
follow this dork! (me)
reblog this post! and THEN
send me a ✨ + a wip page url (sending links through tumblr asks doesn’t work so send it with spaced out periods!) for a moodboard for your wip!! AND/OR
send me a 🌸 for a blog rate!! (example under the cut!!)
(if your writeblr is a sideblog make sure to include the url!!)
(also keep in mind im a student with executive dysfunction so it may take me a little while to get to the moodboards especially but i will do them asap!)
i really do appreciate you all so much for all the love and support this community has provided me over the past few months. i have never been in a nicer or more welcoming community than here. thank you.
blog rate format!!
url: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5  icon: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5  (desktop) theme: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 posts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5  following?: no but ily! | now i am!! | yes!!! | forever!!!!
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fluffybunnybaekhyun · 5 years
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me: *gets annoyed with other writers for not updating their masterlist*
also me: *hasn’t updated masterlist in over a year*
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olimpias · 3 years
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@writersnet​ event 1 · april 2021 / mythology
⭒❃.✮:▹ the thurs - maidens. ◃:✮.❃⭒
a poem by eliza ormandy, inspired by The Poetic Edda
This is the story
Of the land of Ida
Whose virtues long vanished under vice and iniquity
When Minister Glum
Called the highest of the gods
To punish them all
To slaughter them all
To destroy them all
To the last
Odin heard him
He hastened to Thurs
Against the wind
To summon his daughters
To punish them all
To slaughter them all
To destroy them all
To the last.
But Glum, the traitor
First.
Part 1: Asvor
When Glum fled
From the service of the king
Called Osgrim,
As he hid himself
In a cave
In the deep forests of Ozur
Came Asvor.
The hair like fire
The eyes like a mountain spring
The skin like snow
Falling on a glacier
And Glum fell
Deep into sin
And as he lay on the ground
With wild joy
Asvor drew her crystal sword
To punish him
To slaughter him
To destroy him
And she did it quickly.
Part 2: Jodis
The people were strong
For their king was weak.
Osgrim, the failure
Alone in his castle.
And one day
Jodis stood before him.
Hair like a moonless night
Eyes like a hawk
The skin like warm sand
From the southern lands.
Osgrim pleaded
He threw himself down
And wept into the hem
Of her dress.
A dress of iron
But a Thurs-maiden
She has no sympathy for weakness.
And she drew her golden dagger
To punish him
To slaughter him
To destroy him.
That was the end of Osgrim.
Part 3: Yrsa
Now the people were
Unruly.
King and minister dead
And no one left whom they feared
For they were godless.
But Odin does not forgive such things
So he sent the third
Yrsa the Fair and the Terrible
The Destructive.
Hair like sea foam
Eyes like amethysts
Skin like granite
Of which the mountains are
She drew her flaming spear
With one stroke
With a howl of joy
She set the land of Ida ablaze
To punish them all
To slaughter them all
To destroy them all
Until not one was left
And the land a wilderness
So peace came back to Ida
Though at what cost
And for all eternity
Though a myth now
They shall be remembered
The three Thurs-maidens
The beautiful and the deadly
The terrible and the just
Three steel souls
Who travel on clouds.
taglist under the cut (ask to be +/-)
general taglist: @wherewindysurgeswend @buster-keaton @bookphobe @sadsentinel @aphaimaniis @tragediesoftory @ortolon
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writersnet · 3 years
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𓏲・ ๋࣭   april 2021 event  𓍯・ ❨ ָ࣪
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₀₄ ៸ ₂₁ WRITERSNET APRIL EVENT: MYTHOLOGY
the first event for writersnet is now live ! for the first network event, we have decided upon the theme of mythology. these months, with the theme in mind, we would love for you to share with us your wonderful creativity and your brilliant writing. as a network, we wish to showcase and support the excellence of as many writers as we can reach and so we invite you to be inspired by mythological stories from a myriad of diverse cultures from around the world and from various time periods in order to create an original writing piece for the event. 
to complete this event:
₀₁ ‣ join our network (optional)
₀₂ ‣ reblog this post !
₀₃ ‣ write an original piece in accordance to this event’s theme: mythology. this theme can be interpreted in any way you wish and the piece of writing can be written in any form (i.e. short story, poem, script, etc.). note that your writing can be as short or as long as you wish, there are no limits to your artistic license!
₀₄ ‣ post your event submission with the header:
@writersnet​ event 1 · april 2021 / mythology
₀₅ ‣ tag your work with #writersnet and #writersnet.0421
this event will be open from april 1 to may 31 and we are so excited to see what you all create. we hope you enjoy the event !
─ writersnet ᥫ᭡ 
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lasbrumas-archived · 5 years
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the sun is out but it does little good. even inside the house, the air is cold enough to cut open my lungs from the inside and make everything difficult. i can’t feel my toes. they have no socks over them because i’m painting my nails and the paint still needs time to dry, so i’m sitting on the couch willing they dry faster. today was a bad day to do this, but i ran out of time this week. college is killing me and my free time in one go. thanksgiving break is hardly a break when you have homework.
outside, my neighbor is tending to the little dirt patch that refuses to become a garden with a vigor that belies his seventy-year-old frame. i know we live in a desert but even the cacti refuse to take root, as if they disagree with the mountain-desert air. or maybe it’s just bad dirt. he still tries anyway. one of these days he might succeed and i think that’s enough for him.
- excerpts from a story about my hometown that i’ll never write || s.c.
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kahaaniyaa · 3 years
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Hello!!! So @thewraith18 asked me for some tips on starting a writeblr in a post's reply, so I decided to make a separate post for it, here we go : —
So first of all, make a writeblr intro (which usually includes general information you are comfortable with sharing, your interests, and what you write, and if you have any WIP, some info about it) to your blog. It's not obligatory ofc but it helps for other writers to get to know you.
Next, I cannot stress this enough, when you are writing, please don't keep comparing your writing with others. We all have different writing styles and we all prefer different ways of writing and what you see on any other writeblrs, any excerpts, all of it is edited. So your first time writing a scene of a first draft is not going to be similarly polished.
Also! Post a WIP intro of you have one which includes a synopsis and the general information like genre, writing style, trigger warnings and such.
Talk about your character/confusing plotlines on your blog! Its your blog, talk about things that are confusing you, let us get to know more about your WIP but ofc its alright to redact things for the sake of privacy.
Have a writing problem? Talk about it, someone might be able to help you out!
Reblog anything that makes you think of your WIP or a character! You see a photo of an ocean and if it makes you think of your WIP? Reblog it! You see a quote somewhere that reminds you of your character? Reblog it! You see an incorrect quote interaction and it reminds you of a dynamic from your WIP? Reblog it!
Join nets and discord servers! There are many nets that have started recently/have been going on and some servers with writers forming a community where you can talk about your characters, vent about writing problems, vent about balancing academics/ jobs with writing.
Interact with other writers! Send asks, join tag games, talk about their WIPs and yours! Don't forget that writing is still a fun thing we all like and enjoy the experience of it!
Next, okay so we can see pretty gorgeous edits all around the writeblr community which can even be intimidating at times, but remember this is a writing community. What matters in the end is what you write. Nothing else.
Make pinterest boards, spotify/ youtube playlists based on your WIP to gain inspiration for anytime you get stuck or have a writer's block
Also, one thing, this isn't much related to starting writeblrs or writing but really necessary for writing. We all want to have compelling characters. But please make sure to also have diverse characters. N do not fall into stereotypes when you write them.
About characters again. Remember that your character probably isn't going to stay the same as you first thought of them as. They're bound to change. So if you feel that you haven't been able to put much personality in your character or that you can't think of what to add more? Its alright. Just set them aside for a while. Focus on other elements of your story until then. Focus on some other character. You will get what you're missing soon.
Check out blogs like @/heywriters @/writingwithcolor @/wordsnstuff for tips and resources
Then there's also @/original-writing there to support original writing as the name suggests, you can tag them in your writing and their net will reblog your work
And just keep writing, don't forget your main focus
That's all I can think of at the moment, writers, feel free to add something! And I hope this post helps! If you want to ask anything else, my asks are always open!
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topfics · 6 years
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Requests
Hi everyone! I’m going to be opening up requests! So send them in! I may or may not get to them, as I’m in school at the moment, but I will do my best to whip them out at least once a month!!!
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25 posts!
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