Status: Open
Prompting is currently open. Prompting is open from 28 December 2024 to 19 January 2025.
About
"the poem begins not where the knife enters, but where the blade twists"
"beauty is terror"
"you'll just have to taste me, when he's kissing you"
Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. For this round, every prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, do whatever. Steal from a literary classic, or copy a hit tweet.
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Prompting
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Remixing
- Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
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[FILL] anything close can cut through bone
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: UnREAL AU; ambiguous relationships; bickering and mild power play
Permission to remix: Yes
***
âI think youâre too smart to be on a show like this,â Minghao says, breaking the silence. Most of the crew has made themselves scarce, and the only reason Mingyu is still here is because old habits die hard.
âA show âlike thisâ?â Mingyu echoes, tired.
Itâs not an uncommon sentiment, but it gets old after the first time youâve heard it. Whatâs a smart boy like you doing producing a dating show? His friends are on the film festival circuit. Emmy-bound. Cannes. Tiny little events youâve never even heard of, racking up awards just to rub shoulders and be closer to someone of some sort of proximity to someone who knows someone.
The easy answer is that heâs damn good at it. The real answer is a lot less simple, but nothing ever is, is it?
He leans over to look at Minghao, on the opposite end of the room, where his eyes are still locked on the screens. One of the girls is doing her one-on-one while the others rush past her in a flurry of sequins and satin.
Heâs already forgotten what the hell their date theme is supposed to be tonight, and heâs itching to be out on the set rather than sitting in mission control. But supervisors supervise, and if Jeonghan intervenes any more, itâll be a costly blow to his sanity.
At least Joshua isnât on set anymore.
âAnd yet, here we both are.â Mingyu gestures between them before reaching for his coffee. Minghao lets out a short laugh, flipping to the next page in his notebook.
âIâm just saying, youâre smart. Youâve been here, what? Four years? You could be supervising on a different project. See the world.â
The air pot in the PCR is empty, and they still have a few more hours of filming for the evening. Heâs already forgotten the name of the runner since Heuning Kaiâs been promoted to PAâand doing a piss poor job of it. Watching him fumble with the contestants Mingyu had handpicked for him is painful.
âSome of us have to rely on regular work for a living. Not a trust fund.â
âRight.â The backrest of Minghaoâs chair squeaks as he leans back from the table, two legs off the ground. âOr your inheritance.â
Mingyuâs head snaps up, body turned fully forward. âExcuse me?â
âYouâre not the only one who runs intel on new coworkers.â
âItâs not an inheritance.â
âYour parents live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in all of Korea.â
Mingyu scowls. Itâs not not wrong. He examines Minghao from the corner of his eye, watching him watch the screens. Watching his hand glide across a page as he takes notes, so clearly out of his element here.
Mingyu thumbs through the searches heâd done before Minghao had formally arrived on set. Before heâd screamed into a pillow in his hotel room and helped himself to the mini-bar. His Instagram. The blog heâd kept through university, and the director commentary on YouTube.
Sure, the network had bid on him, but no one gives unless theyâre getting.
âNetwork intervention aside, was it your mom or your ex that was a fan of the show?â
Thereâs enough distance between Minghaoâs last project (a short doc on repression and art) and where he is now (watching a has-been female idol wrestle with an Olympic archer for a shot at a date with some soccer player) that itâs one or both.
Minghaoâs hand stills. âMy mom.â
âAnd when was the last time youâve spoken to her?â
Hesitation. And then, âSome time.â
Mingyu reads between the lines. âThat last story took you too far away from home, huh?â
âDonât do that.â
âWhat?â
âProduce me,â Minghao says sharply, snapping his notebook shut. His chair rolls as he stands, circling the table to retrieve the worn leather laptop bag that dangles from the old broken tripod everyone uses as a rack. âI fell for that shit once, and Iâm not doing it again.â
âSo be real with me, sajang-nim.â
Minghaoâs arm drops, eyes already rolling before facing him head on. Watching the professional veneer come down changes his body language, his stance. Thereâs an edge to his voice when he speaks again.
âYou know I didnât take this job because of you.â
Mingyu barks out a laugh, turning his attention from the screens to give it to Minghao fully. âOh, I know. There are easier ways to upset me, and youâve always been creative.â
Minghaoâs expression darkens at the reminder. Theyâd done so well at keeping the shared past under wraps that Mingyu dragging it out into the open, even when theyâre alone, is a betrayal.
As they both know from two rounds of eliminations so far, the past cannot stay buried. Better to drag it to light now rather than let someone dig it up later.
On screen, the ex-idol bests the archer. The camera pulls in on her triumphant face, the dark glee in her eyes. Sheâs thrown her fear of shattering her reputation to the wind. Mingyu makes a mental note to move her on the board. Character arc aside, it disqualifies her from what they call âa wifeyâ.
âYouâre the one who went above Jeonghanâs head to tell Seungcheol about what he and Joshua are doing on this set,â Minghao says carefully, turning over each word like a smooth stone.
Each word already lined up to be thrown in his direction.
âIâm sorry that your brilliant plan backfired and didnât go your way, but when youâre in my control roomâyes, Mingyu, my room, Iâm showrunner, not youâwe are notâŚâ
One of the walkies blips, and they both jump. A sharp reminder of where they are now. How their lives have reconverged.
Minghaoâs hands twist around the leather straps, reddened face visible even in the din. âYouâre nothing to me. Do you understand?â
Then the mask returns, and Minghaoâs professional persona slips right back into place.
Mingyu clears his throat and turns back in his chair. He reaches for the walkie, catching something near Camera 3. Itâll be smart to capture it for the B-roll.
âYeah. Understood.â
Re: [FILL] anything close can cut through bone