30 to 50 feral ideas in my google docs
Jan. 28th, 2020 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
latespringdreamies, something something mutual possession
Donghyuck opens his eyes, and smiles Jaemin's favorite twist of the lips, a weaponized sort of openness. "Miss me?"
Renjun chokes down a sob. "Both of you."
It's Jaemin that takes his hand, and Donghyuck who kisses him.
Briefly had a renjun emotion
He’d like to think so, anyway. In the end it’s all perception, distance and an ache not yet overcome, the space between them miles. Inches.
In any case, Renjun’s got a job to do. He powers off the laptop away and packs it away, slipping back into being Renjun-the-production-assistant. It’s a coat that fits too snugly around the shoulders, and too loose around the waist, restrictive and unflattering all at once.
fake dating nomin, jaemin still has complex feelings abt mark
"I can't be the new leader." Jaemin says it with an air of finality about him. Inwardly he cringes.
The manager doesn't look phased however, merely looks at him patiently. "And why is that?"
Jaemin pauses for a second. His gaze darts around the room. "Because…" Buried underneath a pile of paperwork are the results of Jeno's photoshoot, sunny grin half covered in tax forms. "Because I'm dating Jeno. I wouldn't be able to be impartial.
something that used to be in have/hold:
(A memory, not his oldest, but his most recalled:
Minghao, still growing into his fangs, shedding scales for the first time, looking up at his mother. Some distant part of him recognizes mine but also Xu’s, overlapping layers of claim like a pile of quilts, keeping her warm.
“Do you know why we can’t see the Zhongs any more?”
Minghao shakes his head, looking at her face for any clues. “Is it because they’re moving?”
She sighs, ruffling his hair. “Yes and no. You see, other families don’t know how to be friends with us very well?”
“Because they’re scared?”
“Yes sweetie, because they’re scared. We’re hard people to be friends with.” Minghao doesn’t understand, and says as much. His mother smiles again.
Whales.mp3 (op hates emails)
TO: chwehansol@paccoast.edu
FROM: kwon.s@mcos.edu
SUBJECT: Whales [URGENT]
To Chwe Hansol,
How do you do? My name is Kwon Soonyoung and I’m a doctoral student at MCOS doing my thesis on conditional indicators for Antarctic krill. Sorry to bother you, I wouldn’t except I have a few things I was wondering about which prompted me to email you. In connection with the recent bloom of toxic algae around the coast, I had been wondering about the health of the baleen whale populations nearby. I know a large portion of your research has been focused on these conditions, so I thought you might have an answer or a lead on where to look for one.
The weather has been very volatile recently, so be sure not to catch a cold. Thank you for your time.
-Kwon Soongyoung
PhD Candidate, Marine Science
Incheon National University, Department of Natural Sciences
Yeonsu-gu, Incheon, Republic of Korea
highly specific rocket au, where they’re actually making rockets, featuring lesbians verkwan (yes op has always been like this)
Maybe it’s an exaggeration, Hansol thinks. Metaphor outsized, or something. She knows how stars are made, how they live, how they die. She, as much as any human does, knows how brightly they burn. There’s no way for a person of flesh and blood to compare; Seungkwan isn’t a star, not even close. For one thing, she’s human sized. For another, she loves, in ways that stars can’t.
Still, there’s something that lingers at the edge of Hansol’s periphery whenever she thinks about her, the same glow of wonder lighting up her bones. Seungkwan is not a star, but she’s made of the same material.
Nooooo idea where this was going
If it wasn't for the cult, Seokmin's life could almost be considered normal. He graduated high school, went to college, got a job just like any other citizen. He passed his divinity proficiencies with completely average marks, and went on to be the front for a late night radio station.
It’s fulfilling, if isolating, work. Seokmin gathers a small fan base around his show and gets to know the regular callers, coming to chat about their lives.
something similar to divfic that I recycled
So, here's the thing. Seokmin was maybe dying there for a split second. The battlefield was rough, slippery with blood and rain, his body reduced down to textures and movement, limbs made of the barley sacks he kept in a shed at home, loose woven but sturdy. Sturdy was not enough to save him though, and when the opposing side fired their arrows, one slipped through.
It fell between the gaps in their shield wall and straight through the flimsy leather armor they provided to (recruits) who didn't have gold to line the armorer's pockets, all the way into Seokmin's ribs. The pain is immediate and devastating, the arrowhead shoved straight through his side, to lodge in the delicate workings of his stomach. He doubles over and collapses, breaking the wall to press his hands around the arrow's intrusion.
He's not sure if it's bile or just blood welling up underneath his hands, and all things considered, he thinks it probably doesn't matter much. Above him the shield wall keeps advancing, ranks behind him trodding over his shoulders. One of them steps on the arrow, breaking it off, leaving the shaft both buried deeper in his gut and splintered. As if from a very great distance, Seokmin hears himself make a keening sound, all wounded animal betrayal.
And then, suddenly, the pain gets worse. Seokmin has just enough awareness to realize that it's because someone is putting pressure on his wound, squinting through the black spots dotting his vision to see Minghao in priest's robes, kneeling by his side.
His mouth is moving, and Seokmin tries to pick out the words, convinced that if he could only figure out what Minghao is saying, he could save himself.
seokmin thing I wrote in the summer wipo server in future tense
Sometimes, Seokmin will see things. Visions of the future maybe, or the past. A light touch through his temples, the echoes of something that will someday collapse him entirely, butterfly to a hurricane.
It won’t always be consistent. Someday, eventually, he’s going to be out on a street when a bad one hits, all shatterpoint and possibility, and he’s going to have to explain why he’s doubled over at the sight of a rainstorm. Someday.
Someday: The sunlight is going to hit the windows at precisely 1:27pm and break into a rainbow. Seokmin will be laughing at something Jeonghan said, half a cup of coffee in front of him. The clouds will part overhead and suddenly-
Someday: Seokmin will be dreaming of swallowing his teeth like a row of pearls, and will wake to the sound of church bells, echoing in the distance. He will walk to his mirror and-
Someday: Jeonghan will kiss like a thunderstorm, like the aching potential of lightning, bridging ground and sky. Seokmin will kiss him back, hands tangled over his neck, and then pull away, smiling. He will look away for a brief moment and the light will flood his eyes-
Someday, this is going to catch up with him.
the other beginning to last dance
The earpiece crackles in Seokmin’s ear as she looks around the room. A lingering static that the designers never managed to remove even as models had shrunk down until they were smaller than one of her fingernails. It’s almost comforting now, as much as anything can be. Seokmin has heard that static during every infiltration mission she’s ever been on, in every ballroom she’s ever been in. At this point it’s as much background to her as the golden lights spinning far above her head, the flocks of glittering socialites.
One of said socialites brushes past her with a wink, and Seokmin steps out of her way with a small smile. It’s as automatic as anything else by now, but she seems to take it as an invitation, stepping into Seokmin’s space with a well-honed turn of her lips.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Her voice is smooth and deep, like a well poured shot of Yvel spirits. Seokmin hasn’t had any in more than five years, but she remembers their velvet burn going down. Her voice had been wrecked the next day, but it had been worth it.
Seokmin is supposed to like this party, so she smiles back at the socialite, just a hint of teeth. “Of course. the Governor really outdid herself this time.”
The other woman’s smile tilts, gains a rueful edge. “Outdid herself in finances as well.” Her voice dips a little softer, sending a shiver down Seokmin’s spine. “Her treasury is not in its most ideal state right now.”
Interesting. Most of the party was well aware of the governor’s precarious position, but to be so bold as to discuss it with a stranger is a layer of confidence that Seokmin doesn’t expect. “Of course, I can only trust in Radchaai’s flawless reputation,” she says, half of her mind splitting away to analyze the woman more thoroughly, the other half still monitoring the ballroom. “Pardon me, but I didn’t catch your name.”
This, of all things, seems to make the woman pause. “You can call me The8.” She tilts her head, hair slipping over her collarbones like dark silk. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
“Shin Minhee, and I could say the same to you. If I might ask, what brought you here tonight?” Seokmin tilts her head in a way that she knows makes her eyes look wide and innocent. She didn’t just come to this party to sip champagne after all. In her ear, the static rises, settles into words.
Seungkwan’s voice is a comfort, and Seokmin makes sure to keep her attention on Minghao as she listens. “Her profile doesn’t pull up any matches from the UCWD, but don’t let your guard down.”
Even as he speaks, Minghao is saying, “Oh you know. Business.” She waves an elegant arm, as if to express the mundanities of every-day life. “Nothing as exciting as this.”
Seokmin taps twice on one of the rings she’s wearing and brings her hand up to cover her mouth politely. “Oh that couldn’t possibly be true, not from a woman like you.”
Minghao as a nice laugh, deep and throaty. Seokmin carefully squashes any thoughts at the sound of it, keeps her smile light and delicately interested. “Beauty isn’t always appreciated, darling,” she says, looking down at Seokmin with hooded eyes.
If she wasn’t on a mission, this is where Seokmin would let her smile shade into something softer, easy to please, let Minghao’s voice and dark eyes draw her back to a dark room. As it is, what she does is not entirely dissimilar. “That’s very true, here especially.” She turns her shoulder casually, putting a little distance into their body language. “Why subject yourself to this if not for the company?”
“I wouldn’t say the company is entirely terrible,” Minghao says, but she seems to get the hint, turning as well to face the glittering hoards of dancers. Seokmin has been watching them all night, trying to pick one face out of the crowd, but so far she’s been out of luck.
A glance in Minghao’s direction, just long enough for her to notice. “I wouldn’t either.” It had taken her a while to master that glance, nights spent looking over her shoulder at Hansol, breaking out into laughter when she was caught.
Minghao’s smile is still firmly on her face, but Seokmin thinks there’s something softer to it now. “Thank you. I came here with my cousin, actually. He abandoned me after one dance though, so he has no claim to my time anymore.”
Shin Minhee had also come here with a “cousin”. Seungcheol is on the other side of the ballroom, taking care of the other half of the mission. Seokmin tells Minghao the first part, making sure to dimple at her.
Minghao doesn’t turn to face her, but she does take a small step closer, enough that their arms briefly brush. Seokmin doesn’t move away. Sends her another glance.
From across the swirl of peacock and red velvet, there is a stir from within the crowd. Someone walks through the crowd, parting it like water. Seokmin’s heartbeat picks up. The man known in certain circles only by the mononym “Jaehyun” makes his way to the bar, waves for a glass of something amber.
jihan thing for “eclipsed”, if I ever finish the full thing ao3’s never getting it
Ambassador Tran’s head explodes in a shower of gore, and Jeonghan curses. Not because some of it had gotten onto his clothes (although that was part of it). Not because the loss of life was regrettable (that was not part of it). Not even because everyone around him had started screaming (almost definitely part of it).
No, it is because Jeonghan had been planning to kill him first. Now he’s going to have to go back to Seungcheol and explain the whole messy situation. He can picture the conversation already.
So why weren't you able to kill the man we were paid 24k to take out?
Well, someone got there before me, and I couldn't exactly kill him twice.
Yeah, that'll go over super well. Who even uses guns anymore? So messy. Jeonghan had been planning on something civilized, like strangulation in a darkened corner.
In his ear, the radio is going wild, three different voices all asking what happened at once. He takes it out. None of them were Seungcheol; instead, they were members of the security team back at the ambassador’s quarters. If he was actually the bodyguard he was posing as, he would probably be concerned.
But Jeonghan is an internationally wanted assassin. Instead of worried, he’s irritated, and in need of a quick escape.
Slipping away from the chaos, he drops his earpiece into the nearby sewer and ducks into an alleyway. The suit jacket comes off easily, and after that, all it takes is untucking his shirt and losing the sunglasses to become a harried businessman, off of a long day at work.
There's still chaos behind him. The ambassador's body is bleeding onto the road, and there are multiple people screaming. The sound echoes off of the high-rise buildings around him, alerting the city to the news.
Jeonghan wasn’t the one who killed the ambassador, but he doesn’t want to be around when the rest of his security starts looking for people to blame either. Tying his hair up with an elastic, he finishes the look and starts walking out of the alley.
Before he turns the corner into the street though, something flashes in the corner of his eye. Jeonghan jerks around in time to see a sniper rifle vanish over a nearby rooftop.
The light reflecting off of the scope almost looked like a wink.
Seokgyuhao exes at the apocalypse
When ash first starts to rain down from the sky, Mingyu's first thought is unfortunately not "what the hell is happening" but instead: "Seokmin was right". It's an infuriating impulse.
no other stars bit that got changed
“So kill me then.” Soonyoung challenges. He tips his head back so that the line of his neck is bared to Jisoo’s gaze. “Put an end to it.”
“What the--” Jisoo’s hands shake around the candle, and he sets it down with a violent click. “Why do you think I would do that?”
The windows of the house are sheeted with rain, enough water to obscure any vision of the outside world. Soonyoung waves a hand at them. “No one will blame you, I’m sure.”