static_abyss: (Fall Moriarty and sherlock)
[personal profile] static_abyss
So, I was looking through my docs and the amount of unfinished fic there makes me sad. So, I'm going to dump it here and pretend that that means I've posted it in comms and never have to look at it again. Then, I'm going to go and finish my stupid spnaubigbang fic and finish my first ever sterek fic and cry. THEN, I will try to go through my merthur fics and see if there's anywhere I can take those.

Also, can we all just talk about how there are a billion challenges/exchanges and I'm pretty sure combined, [ profile] domofo and I have joined all of them. Seriously, I quit my job. I am going to go into fic writing full time. Who needs money anyway.

Right, so here have a bunch of unfinished fic and if you leave a comment with the name of the fic, I will bombard you with fun facts and wonderful/random stories about where I got the idea for it or how I started writing it or whatever.

Minho first sees Jinki at a charity concert where Minho's the MC.

Minho's there because South Korea won bronze at the Olympics and, as the team captain, that makes him important. It's good for his career Jonghyun, his manager, told him. He'd get his face recognized by the cameras and the sponsors would pour in.

Minho hates cameras, but he's been told the MC is rarely on TV. It's about the singers, dolled up girls and pretty boys. Minho's caught Jonghyun looking where he shouldn't more than once. He thinks the pretty girl with the short blond hair is seconds away from filing a lawsuit. It becomes less of Minho's concern when the sound crew calls him for last minute checks.

Minho's getting checked backstage when Jinki walks past him. Minho doesn't know the man is Jinki then. He's seen the face on commercials, he thinks, but Minho doesn't know what it is the man does. All he sees as he waits for the sound crew to get his mic on is a man with golden brown hair and eyeliner that Minho can see from where he is ten feet away. The man is wearing tight jeans and a white dress shirt that has the first two buttons undone. He looks casual in a messy way, perfectly styled by whoever it is that does his hair. But it's the smile more than the way the man is dressed that makes Minho stare. It's the way that smile wrinkles the corner of his eyes and lights up his whole face as he talks to another man.

Minho doesn't even hear when the sound crew tells him he's ready.


The guy's name is Jinki and his friend is Kibum, Key for short. Minho knows this because he introduces them as the last to go for the night. The lights dim as Jinki and Kibum get in position. There are drummers and guitarists in the background and Minho thinks "rock." He gets to hear Jinki's voice, low and with edges that drag over Minho's back and up his shoulder. It's like listening to the sound sand makes against his back at the beach.

At the end of the night, Minho takes off his own microphone and hands it over to the sound crew. He shakes hands with all the important people who held the concert and nods at a couple of faces he recognizes from work. His manager, Jonghyun, is off to the side looking amused.

"Where are you going," Jonghyun asks.

Minho shrugs and cranes his neck above the crowd to see if he can spot Jinki. He's counting on the stylists to keep Jinki and Kibum busy as long as possible. Minho's known actors who takes hours after a show is over to finally leave. He hopes that Jinki is one of those. Or, well, he hopes Kibum is.

"Looking for your boyfriend?"

Minho's head snaps back so fast he almost hits Jonghyun. "What?"

Jonghyun grins. "The kid from the band, Jinki."

Minho stares at the wide smile on Jonghyun's face. They’re good friends, the kind that say and do stupid things to each other.

"You know him," Minho accuses.

Jonghyun shrugs and makes a show of walking for the exit. It doesn't quite work because Minho's been trying the same thing for the past ten minutes and hasn't had any luck. He's not surprised when Jonghyun gives up after a minute and turns around to glare at Minho.

"Fuck you," Jonghyun snaps when he sees the grin on Minho's face. "His name is Jinki and we drink on the weekends, happy?"

"Yeah," Minho grins. "You're bringing me with you next time."

Jonghyun grumbles about how he's such a good friend and how Minho doesn't deserve to have him, but when Minho makes way for him through the crowd of people, Jonghyun shuts up. Minho stops looking for Jinki then because he's going to see him that weekend. He's preoccupied with getting himself and Jonghyun out alive. He's also more worried about the sheer number of fans outside when he finally makes it to the door. He knows they're not there for him, but he doesn't know another way out.

They tell Minho the world is going to end in one week.

"Why?" he asks.

"We don't know," they say, voices low and sad as if they don't want this to happen, but know they can't do anything to stop it. "It's just going to happen."

"And what would you have me do?"

They look at him in their black suits, faces blank except for their eyes. Minho believes in that moment that the eyes really are the window to the soul. He can see the pain, the way years hunch the backs of the men before him. The lack of sun has left their skin pale, like milk, only there's a crumpled paper texture to it, like someone has crumpled them up and flattened them out more times than they should be able to handle. Minho doesn’t know who these men are, just that they came to him one night and asked him if he was ready. He hadn't been able to answer them then, just shrugged and asked them what they wanted.

He sees them now, in his living room on the cleanest side of town in the only house left in the entire city. His rational mind argues that there is still a possibility that the pollution in the air is making him see things. He's well aware of the deteriorating ozone layer, the way oceans are turning black, the smell of the smog in the wind no matter which way he turns. It's not pretty, but Minho didn't, doesn't, think that his world has reached the end. It can't.

"Are you ready?" the men ask him.

Morgana doesn't pay overtime when her workers are late, but when she sees who walks in through the doors of Le Fay Vids, she thinks she can make an exception.

Arthur Pendragon is the golden haired god of sex videos. He's known for his blue eyes and well defined muscles, his broad shoulders and the way he fucks like he owns the person underneath him. He's good looking enough that even though he does men exclusively, more than one woman has sent Morgana requests for Arthur as a partner in their videos.

Morgana doesn't hand out Arthur unless she's feeling generous and since Arthur keeps her purse full and her scotch coming, she does what he wants. Most of the time.

Today, for example, she has chosen to not do what Arthur wants.

X rated videos—porn to be frank—are a profitable business. Morgana was smart enough to take advantage of that even while her father, Uther, threatened to disown her. When anyone at an event asks her what she does for a living, Morgana just smiles at them, winks at her father and says she runs an entertainment company. No one asks for details, not at parties where everyone is just there to one up the person besides them.

Morgana hates Uther's parties, but she goes because she likes the way he looks at the people she brings with her. Leon happens to be her favourite. He's all curly hair and light eyes that seem to know things that no one else does. His shy smile and the way he charms the people around him without knowing it are what attracted Morgana to him. Sometimes she thinks she hates him, with all his kindness and appropriate comments to the every person he meets. But at the same time, it's what makes him so hard to leave. Morgana also likes the way Uther's face goes red whenever Leon is around.

Uther thinks Leon sucks cock for a living. Morgana is the only one who knows that Leon has a law firm three blocks down.

Morgana likes Leon and she likes her job. She is good at her job. She's got the best looking actors, good ones too and an eye for who looks good with who.

Gwen, for example, is dark skinned and gorgeous with big brown eyes that tend to be soft and kind. Morgana likes to pair Gwen up with Lance who's got the same kind of brown eyes and soft hands. Lance and Gwen make the sappy, romantic videos, with music in the background. When Morgana gets tired of those, she makes Gwen tie Lance down and teach him how to fuck. The two of them work well. Sometimes so well that Morgana has to separate them because the way they look at each other is dangerous, too intimate for the kind of work they do.

But Lance and Gwaine work well too. It's all the hair and the eyes.

"Are you going to drive me to school," Kibum asks.


Minho doesn't bother to look up from his book, his legs propped up on the kitchen table. The side of his face where he can feel Kibum staring itches, but Minho doesn't scratch. He focuses on the words in his book, the way the characters stand bold against the white of the page. He's hyper aware of Kibum, every move he makes as he looks through the cabinets.

"We don't have anything in the fridge," Kibum says.

"I know," is Minho's answer. "I haven't bought anything yet."

"What am I supposed to eat?"

Minho shrugs. He can hear Kibum's exasperated exhale, the banging of the cabinets and the shuffling of fabric as Kibum puts his backpack on. Minho counts to ten, but the apartment door doesn't open. There are no sounds of feet moving along the floor.

"What," Minho asks.

He looks up when Kibum doesn't answer, catches the way Kibum's cheekbones stand out in the low light of the room. They're on the west side of the apartment building so they always have to turn on the lights in the morning and Minho gets to see this. He gets to see Kibum in his tight jeans and loose shirts with his new piercings. Minho gets to watch the way Kibum's hair falls over his forehead, the new blond color fitting so well with who Kibum is.

"I don't like your hair," Minho says.

"Fuck you."

Yes, Minho wants to say, that is exactly the problem.

"Go away. You'll be late."

Kibum shrugs, but he leaves.

He hears the voices from the space all around him, embedded into the crevices of his mind, like fingers stroking along the side of his face. They're caresses that tell him things he doesn’t want to know but has to hear. He can feel their power in the air he breathes, his eyes open, but he is unable to see anything in the vast expanse of darkness. The boy thinks this is what death must feel like, but he had no memory of dying, no memory of ever existing. There is no life before this. They called. He came. This is his existence.

"We've waited long for you."

They appear before him, three sisters sitting upon thrones of thread. They're identical, same dark hair framing faces where aristocratic noses sit below dark eyes surrounded by long lashes. The boy thinks that they might be beautiful if it weren't for the glint in their eyes, the power that surrounds them so clearly. The sister to his left sits on her throne, her hand hovering over her lap where thread of pure gold falls from her fingertips. She doesn’t look up once as the boy stares at her. The sister to the boy's right winds the golden thread into a ball. Her eyes focus on her task and the boy thinks he knows who they are. He looks at the sister who sits in the middle, the one who spoke. She looks at him and smiles, slow and sure as if she's waiting for him to say it. They're terrifying because they hold his life in their hands.

"You are our most precious charge," the sister says. "We saw your life play out before us. We wound your destiny between the three of us and when you were ready, we let you sleep in Avalon. We had your name long before your mother was even a thought in her mother's head. You are the one who will save us all."

"Save you from what?" the boy asks. He does not know another world besides this land of darkness and there is nothing to save anyone from here.

"Your name," the sister says, her head inclining towards him for a moment and the boy can't mistake it for anything other than respect. "Your name is Emrys. You will be born to a woman in Ealdor, a town so small only the pettiest thieves ever think to go near it. She will raise you without a father and there you will learn about what you can do, the magic you possess, and with you, the laws of the world will be set right."

"How," Emrys questions. "How do I set the laws of the world right when I don't even know the world you speak of?"


Emrys eyes the open arms of the sister. She smiles at him and he feels the pull of familiarity within him, strong enough that he goes to her. She's part of him in some way he can't fully understand. Her hand is cold when she clasps his, but she shows him. He sees a world torn down by rage and grief, sees a beautiful man with a brilliant smile, shattered. He blames magic for the death of the woman in his arms, her yellow hair glowing even in death. There is a child. His life wrapped in hatred, lies spun to bind him closer to the man who tears down the world just so that he can keep his afloat.

Emrys feels the cry of the Earth, the strings of life cut too short. He hears the cries of dragons, strong and deadly, but obedient to a man Emrys does not know. He watches as the man who tears down the world tears them down too. There is blood, death and sorrow. It fills the land, infects the people in the outer areas so that it translates to hatred, a deep rooted abhorrence for the man who takes the throne and calls himself king of Camelot. King Uther Pendragon, destroyer of the world.

"This is the world I am to save?" Emrys whispers. "A land ruled by a king who would kill me for what I am to be?"

"It is your destiny and that child's. He will be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen. He will unite the lands and call them Albion. There will be peace during his reign and magic will be allowed to roam free again, no longer rotting away the Earth. You can feel it can't you?" the sister asks and Emrys nods. "You can feel where Uther Pendragon has pushed the magic of the land, to the deepest bowels of the Earth where it rots because nothing should ever hold it down. Camelot is a land of magic, a land that needs magic and you and Arthur are destined to make it so."

"Who are you?"

The sister smiles, "I am a Priestess of the Old Religion. I was born when the world wasn't yet complete, in this land of Avalon. My sisters and I saw the birth of the Earth, the first steps of mankind and even then, you slept. "

Emrys can still feel her hand clasping his and he feels a sudden reverence for this woman, for the sisters who know destiny and spin fate. She is older than the world she watches and Emrys doesn’t understand why Camelot should mean so much to her.

"We have welcomed too many of our kin to this land," she tells him. "But, it had to be so. We could not ask you to save them because you would have failed without Arthur, as he will without you. You, Emrys, must watch him."

"He will be loved by his father because he will be the man his father was too afraid to be, the king he was too weak to become. Arthur's heart will be kind even without a mother or, perhaps, because he doesn’t have one. He will fight with his men like no other king has ever fought before and they will gladly die for him. Even you."

Emrys can see it all. A young man with golden hair, a beauty that reminds Emrys of Uther, but with softer eyes, a heart unburdened. He wields a sword that shines in the light, markings on the side that say the sword was made for Arthur Pendragon. His chain mail is spotless, capturing the light from the sun so that Arthur Pendragon glows golden and pure. Emrys sees him and thinks that it would be an honour to die for this man who is to save the world.

"He will be courageous, strong and just in every decree he makes, but you must watch him," the sister speaks again, soft as if she is afraid that she will scare Emrys, as if she could, now that he has seen who is to fight by his side. "He will be like his father in that he will love unconditionally those who he deems worthy. He will rule as his father did in the beginning, a true king, strong. But, he is not his father and his people will love him just as Arthur will love them. He will be stubborn and righteous and no words will convince him that he should stand down when he thinks he can help. There will be times when his greatest virtues will be his greatest flaws and he will be intimate with death more times than anyone will be comfortable with. But you will be there to keep him alive, to guide him towards his destiny and yours. Without you, there will be no Albion, and without him magic will rot the Earth from the inside out."

Emrys nods, some long hidden sparks growing inside of him. He closes his eyes, but the burning light is everywhere. It glows yellow reminding him of Arthur who glowed with the same light in the vision the sister had shown Emrys.

"Everything you are telling me," Emrys says. "Why? Why did you not just give him magic and be done with it."


Long Live Sooman, screamed at him from the black and red posters along the train.
Minho sat with the blue book tucked under his jacket trying to focus his eyes on one spot and failing. His heart jumped in his chest, the feeling of being watched heavy as he tried to keep still.


"Take that," the guy says shoving a book into Minho's hand.

"What is it?"

But, the guy is gone. Minho takes one look at the book and shoves it under his shirt. He doesn't recognize the cover and he knows, even before he opens the book, that this is what everyone has been talking about for the past year.
The words are on the eleventh page, the day the resistance took the record's department entire top floor.

Dǐkàng wànsuì.

There's an address underneath.

So, that's all I'm posting for now because the rest is just depressing. But, feel free to ask away and I shall answer. Also, most of these make me want to start writing them again, so I might.
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