Writing Corner

Seungjin fic, University AU; Oneshot

Plot Summary:

Dance major, Hwang Hyunjin lives with his roommate, Psychology major Kim Seungmin.

It's like a family. Hwang Hyunjin is the mother. Kim Seungmin never wanted to be a father. And Chaos personified is their child. Karen Horney would be proud of them. And Hyunjin says that Freud could be the grandfather.

Seungmin's just tired, and wondering how he even started liking this chaos enabler long ferret.

"Ayy, just because you left before I could wake u-"

"Stop it." The man in red hissed out as I giggled under my palm, throwing my head back and pushing my hair out of my way.

"No, but seriously, what's bad about this?"

Devil's Sniper, (That wasn't even what he wanted his name to be, I would know. That idiot had grumbled about his 'grievances' as he drank in my bar, day before yesterday, late into the night before one of his henchmen came to retrieve him) rolled his eyes under his mask.

"You want me to believe this? You're here, and you- Your master isn't, huh, mutt? You want me to believe that flowery, pink ribbon guy left you behind, and now what, you're alone? Defenceless? Going to use that 'I am just a civilian, please spare me!' on me, huh, princess?"

Not his fault, I reminded myself, and I turned my back to him, pulling on the gloves that Wind had given me.

"No. I don't have to."

Then I tugged at the pendant.

The rose fell down in my hand, it's chain leaving a delicious trail of fire burning up my skin as it slid down past my shirt. I knew the Teacher was going to be heavily disappointed in me if and when he found out that I had broken the pendent, especially when it had been ages since I had last separated that golden, delicate magic inhibitor from myself.

It was dangerous. Too dangerous to let my energy flow that freely, so the Teacher had come up with it, disguising my power and allowing me to channel it so some low extent.

But Devil Sniper didn't know that.

The whirring of the Sniper's automated crossbow filled the ruined study room, and I couldn't help the vicious laugh that bubbled from my lips. The power was making me delirious, finally. An open and welcomed change.

"Don't do this. You'll die."

The pure power burst through my fingertips, light emanating from my skin in every direction, and even with all the sound of the magic running in me, I heard the villain's breath hitch.

"I would say you're not turning to stone because you're one of us. You're ugly as hell."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Welcome to the familia, bebé."

"What do you mean no?!"

"By no, I mean, nope, nadda, not doing it."

"I- Nice, smartass, I am very well aware what no means. I ju- What do you mean you don't want to do it?"

"Okay, look. No offence, but let me be honest here real quick. You're the 'faith cleric' or whatever the fuck that means, and the public and the government has been on your tail for a decade and you've always denied giving them what, their daily affirmations and shit because you genuinely don't believe in them. And now suddenly you show up at my doorstep, saying you want me to take up the State training programme. Seriously, you really believe telling me to believe in you believing in my abilities is going to make me do it? Especially after me knowing that you probably have not made any use of your own abilities for what? A decade?"

"Tha- Wow, okay I am gonna ignore the belief tongue twister, but I am taking full offence on that not making use of my ability. Just for your information, my neighbour's daughter does TED talks, and I have trained her since she was 6-"

"What?!"

"Yeah! Yeah, so you saying I am rusty makes up for some bull, booyah!"

"How old are you really oh my god!"

"Hey, no age shaming!"

"I am not, what is wrong with you! You- You saw me in a video, a viral video which I must tell you, might not true and yo- You want me to dedicate my life? To what? Abilities? Magic? Sacrificing and shit? I'll tell you what, I don't believe in that. You can keep your faith to yourself, I don't need it."

A hint of remorse to the cleric's voice shone forward.

"I know what you mean, kiddo. It's- It's a life, a journey dedicated to others. But... If you do have the power, then why not? You might not be able to save yourself, but you do have the ability to save so many innocents. I believe in you, kid. I really do... It's just a matter of fact when you start looking more into your skills. So tell me... I believe in you. Do you?"

".........you used th- You used the- The thing, you used to say that back in the day, didn't ya?"

"I-I did, is it- Does it work? Does it- Do you feel anything?"

"I kind of, yeah, it's there. It's definitely there."

"If it is the sword speaking," The girl (She was a she, that day) staggered on her feet, using the point of the sword to stand up again. "I am ready to throw myself off the bridge."

"Like, right now?"

"Jeff? Do you hear it? Please tell me you do."

The man-slash-fae stood at the side, wringing his hands and his tail fluttering nervously. The sound of the hooved monster that they had just overturned into the raging river below was still ringing in her ears. "I don't- I don't know what you're talking about! I can't hear anything!"

"You idiot, you're wielding me, of course he can't hear you! Oh my god, is this my fate? Is this it? The royal katana of gods? Laid to rest in the hands of a dying hero that is actually an idiot?"

Of course.

Death by hooved monsters, death by prophecies, death by vote or, death by annoying, talking, rude swords.

Right now, you have to be a team player. You cannot complain about AI being used to fuck over your industry and then turn around and use it on somebody else’s industry.

No AI book covers. No making funny little videos using deepfakes to make an actor say stuff they never did. No AI translation of your book. No AI audiobooks. No AI generated moodboards or fancasts or any of that shit. No feeding someone else’s unfinished work into Chat GPT “because you just want to know how it ends*” (what the fuck is wrong with you?). No playing around with AI generated 3D assets you can’t ascertain the origin of. None of it. And stop using AI filters on your selfies or ESPECIALLY using AI on somebody else’s photo or artwork.

We are at a crossroad and at a time of historically shitty conditions for working artists across ALL creative fields, and we gotta stick together. And you know what? Not only is standing up for other artists against exploitation and theft the morally correct thing to do, it’s also the professionally smartest thing to do, too. Because the corporations will fuck you over too, and then they do it’s your peers that will hold you up. And we have a long memory.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking “your peers” are only the people in your own industry. Writers can’t succeed without artists, editors, translators, etc making their books a reality. Illustrators depend on writers and editors for work. Video creators co-exist with voice actors and animators and people who do 3D rendering etc. If you piss off everyone else but the ones who do the exact same job you do, congratulations! You’ve just sunk your career.

Always remember: the artists who succeed in this career path, the ones who get hired or are sought after for commissions or collaboration, they aren’t the super talented “fuck you I got mine” types. They’re the one who show up to do the work and are easy to get along with.

And they especially are not scabs.

The gold glass hit the stone gallery and the men sitting beside the throne flinched.

The monarchy feared the wooden swords.

They used to leave marks on their bodies as children. Red, angry welts, and sometimes the splinters would get stuck and then there would be bleeding and then they would rot sometimes-

"Is that all?! 7 of your best men, my king! Is that all you can afford?!"

The man standing in the circle was a sight to see.

For just a noble, the man stood tall, upright in the arena. No, of course, blood oozed from him. The king's men were unworthy, but not to a shameful level. But his aura was dark, threatening.

Shadowing.

The King growled. "How many left?"

"Tw- Two more, your majesty."

The noble chuckled. "Ah, a pity isn't it, my king?"

Swords were benevolent. As long as they stood to protect, they were benevolent. But when they were only meant to be harmless, to mark, rank and decide the future of a royal, they weren't.

All they did was provide prejudice.

"Your majesty, we believe he has laced the edges with poison. My king, the knights are being paralysed! The first three, they died, gushing foam and dirt at their mouth- Lord, he's trying to lead a rebellion, all we have to do is finish him off-"

"7 of my best men weren't able to do that, you think a suggestion from you can satisfy me?"

The Chief gulped. "Yo- Your majesty, that's not what I-"

"Bring me the Soulblade."

The young Chief startled at that. "Soulblade? Your blade, your majesty?"

My parents expected me to build wings of gold and fly further than anyone could ever try. I don't blame them, having a child to raise is like sculpting a clay pot, you can shape it the way you like, paint it the colour you fancy. To raise a child is to play God. To raise a child is to be God.

But to be a child is to fall, to make mistakes, to fail. The thing about being too bright at an early age means you burn out by the time you're 16 and suddenly the world around you becomes more gray and terribly, terribly lonely. The fire is never warm enough, nothing is ever enough. And one day you find yourself begging to a godless sky, begging for a new spark.

I was a gifted child once. I was the golden girl. And one day, I burned out.

"What."

The hero, unsteady on their feet, held their side. "Dudebro, you're all over the place man. And like, not only your mind, like quite literally. The social media- Wait you know social media ri-"

"I know what social media is, you douche." The villain snapped, interrupting them. They grunted in response, leaning heavily on his pointy stick.

"Stop calling it a pointy stick, it's a spear." The hero spat. The villain laughed bitterly. "I keep forgetting that you can read minds."

They rolled their eyes. "What?"

"Oh, you think you're the only one who reads? Well, newsflash darling, I am very well aware of how you embarrassed yourself in the Main Square of the city when you were dangli-"

"Oh my god! Why do they have that on the page?!"

The chuckle that escaped them was pretty loud in comparison to the hero's whining. "You deserved that, asshole."

"Okay then, how about that time you were caught with the kiddie shake fr-"

"The- What?! Why would they-"

"Ha! It was for yourself! I was right, you're a softie!"

"Shut up! I know about the time you thought your earphones were plugged in-"

"I don't want to talk about that!"

A few feet away, two figures lay huddled close to each other behind one of the fallen pillars, smoke shrouding them both.

"Do they know?" The little lady whispered to the tall figure laying on her side besides herself.

"Do they know what? About their obsession for each other? Oh god no, I don't think."