17hols | 2022 Round 1: Quotes

2022 Round 1: Quotes

Status: Closed

This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.

Seventeen Holidays

Round 1: Quotes

About

"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

"What is grief, if not love persevering?"

"You kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath"

Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. Each prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, and more. Steal from a literary classic, or WeVerse drama. Have fun!

Examples

Minghao + Ocean Vuong

The most beautiful part of your body
is where it's headed. & remember,
loneliness is still time spent
with the world.

Ocean Vuong - night sky with exit wounds

Hoshi/Anyone; "Beauty is terror"

Thinking about these two quotes together and the idea of on/off-stage personas:

"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful we tremble before it. And what could be more terrifying or beautiful, to the Greeks to to our own, than to lose control completely?" - Donna Tartt, the Secret Histories

"I am calm in everyday life but when I put on my in-ear device and step on stage, I can feel the tension and hear the cheers getting louder as the music gets louder. When the staff tells me it's time to step on stage, I feel something boil inside me. I feel it steaming inside and I think I have to give a burst of something, spill what is inside me." - Hoshi in Hit the Road Ep. 04

Any ship; "It's been so many years"

Hello, hello there, is this Martha?
This is old Tom Frost
And I am calling long distance
Don't worry 'bout the cost.
'Cause it's been forty years or more
Now Martha please recall
Meet me out for coffee
Where we'll talk about it all.

Tom Watts - Martha

Rules

Sign up is not required.
Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too!
There is no maximum cap.
Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest).
NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged
NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview.

How it works

Prompting

Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post;
Change the subject to something interesting;
Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want!
Ship/Member: Any Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: N/A Do Not Wants: None Prompt: <blockquote>[QUOTE GOES HERE] </blockquote>

Filling

Reply to the original prompt;
Change the subject to [FILL], you may add a title or stay chaotic;
Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text.
You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection.

Ship/Member: Any Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: N/A Permission to remix: Yes/No/Please ask ***

Remixing

Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
Change the subject to [REMIX].

Art/media

Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.)
Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it!
Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead.
(To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want)

Ship/Member: Any Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: N/A Permission to remix: Yes/No/Please ask *** <img src="INSERT IMAGE URL" width="400px"> <a href="INSERT ANY URL YOU WANT">TEXT THAT DESCRIBES THE LINK</a>

Note!

On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it.

Navigation

❮ ROUND 1: QUOTES ❯

ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES

ROUND 3: LAST WORDS

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

this is the best thing i've ever read ever in my life ever and you are a genius and i think this fandom should have a bronze statue built in your honor

ahhh thank you so much!! i love playing with emotions like devotion and loyalty and then twisting the knife to make it a lil toxic… in a perfect world, jeonghan remakes it so he can get what he wants!!

OMG you can absolutely remix it i would be honored!!!

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Wonwoo
Major Tags: Minor Character Death
Additional Tags: College AU, kmg horatio jk unless
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

And I just think you should know
That nothing safe is worth the drive
And I would follow you home
- Taylor Swift, “Treacherous”

Two months before his father dies, Wonwoo broke up with Mingyu.

“I just think we’re better off as friends,” he said, his gaze focused on the black stone in his hand. They had finally sat down to finish their long-term game of Go. Wonwoo had started it at the beginning of the semester as he set up his board on his desk, suggesting that they play at their own leisure and place stones whenever they had time. A correspondence game. The last move had been Mingyu’s, his white stone ending a capturing race in seki. Mutual life. Mutual destruction.

“I don’t understand,” Mingyu said. Wonwoo hadn’t shown any signs of discontent. Earlier that day, he had eaten lunch with Mingyu’s friends and had joked around with them. “Did you have a problem with my friends?” Did you have a problem with me?

Wonwoo shifted his gaze to the board, still not meeting his eyes. “We have different goals,” he finally said. “After I graduate, you’ll be finishing school and I’ll be busy.” What Wonwoo left unsaid: he would be right back under his father’s thumb, set to inherit the family business.

Mingyu voiced as much. “I didn’t know that learning how to run a company prohibited you from visiting your alma mater.”

Wonwoo’s brow furrowed. “Don’t be childish, Mingyu.”

You’re the child, Mingyu wanted to retort, giving up at without even trying, but that would only prove Wonwoo’s point.

“So you’re just giving up?”

Wonwoo laughed hoarsely. “It appears so.” A group of white stones had surrounded the group of black stones that Wonwoo was playing. Instead of forming a second eye, Wonwoo simply abandoned the group by placing a black stone down on an empty section of the board, leaving the group dead.

Mingyu frowned. He was certain that if he reviewed the game, then he would see that Wonwoo’s turns had been riddled with holes. Although Wonwoo was avoiding Mingyu’s gaze by looking at the board, it was clear that he wasn’t registering the moves. It was like he had said all that he needed to be said and was now waiting for the game to end.

Did you stage this whole game just to break up with me, Mingyu wanted to ask, but that was ridiculous.

Mingyu wins the game. He watches Wonwoo sort the stones into the wooden bowls and then carefully place the lids on, the sound of the lid slotting over the wood like latching a coffin closed.

Because Mingyu is a masochist, they stay roommates. And then one afternoon, Wonwoo receives a call from his mother and goes deathly pale, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

“My father died,” he whispers after the call ends, like it will be false if he doesn’t speak it. He finally meets Mingyu’s eyes, his own shiny with grief, and Mingyu finds himself opening his arms, offering some semblance of comfort. He lets Wonwoo collapse into his arms and hide his face in his sweater, his tears seeping into the yarn.

“Hey,” Mingyu whispers as not to spook Wonwoo. He very carefully tilts Wonwoo’s face up, cataloging his splotchy eyes before he kisses his tears away, like a dog licking his owner’s face, begging to be noticed.

Title from “The Leash” by Ada Limón

Ship/Member: Woozi, Taeyong (NCT)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Call me I will say 우아
Call me I will say 우아

- Long Flight, TAEYONG

YOU'RE INSAAAAAAANE I LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU. WHAT THE HELL I'M GOING CRAZY

Ship/Member: joshua-centric, joshua/minghao
Major Tags: slight blood/gore + references to murder, the horror of living inside your body, the horror of letting somebody do something with it
Additional Tags: horror au, bodyswap au, joshua hong pretending everything is fine until the end, reference to traumatic events, emotional support boo seungkwan (also w his own trauma)
Permission to remix: yes!!!
wc: 777

a bodyswap au gone horribly terribly wrong ft. joshy hong, enjoy :’0 please please please let me know if i need to adjust tags [reposted bc i didn't notice the error in formatting T__T sorry otl]

> going for 5 of a kind (horror / bodyswap au!)

***

my body walking out of the room / bent on some deadly errand / and me up on the ceiling just sort of fading out
— anne carson, “all we as leaves

Joshua sits in muted silence as he watches the stranger in his body go to work. It’s mesmerizing, the way his back muscles flex and shift underneath the worn white tee.

He never thought his hands were capable of being that neat, that delicate. It’s an artist’s work. It’s honest work.

Okay, he thinks. This isn’t too bad.

The more he says it, the more it becomes okay. Becomes something tolerable, something manageable, something easy to tuck away and hide and never have to bring up again.

He has to live with it, after all.

//

They call them body snatchers because the whole experience is incredibly fleeting. One moment, your body will belong to you. The next — someone is in there with you. It isn’t so much a feeling as it is a knowing: something is inside you, something foreign and strange.

They aren’t always kind.

What happens when you lose control?

//

“Do you like wine?” Joshua says aloud. The Joshua who is trapped inside his body nods. He tries to be helpful. Provides the body snatcher with where to find his bottles, watching with a sort of helplessness as his body picks up the most expensive one in his collection.

At least the pour is nice. Two glasses are out, but only one can actually physically be drinking. He appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

“I’ve never really done this before,” Joshua confesses, flexing his large fingers this way and that, marveling at their size and strength. His fingers clench into a fist suddenly, fast enough that his knuckles crack with the ferocity of it. It sounds like gunshots in the empty space, rattling around in his bedroom.

“I like it.” The creature inside him rumbles, grinning down at their hands. It’s a smile with too many teeth in it. “My name is Minghao. Nice to meet you.”

Joshua feels a growing sense of alarm.

Maybe it is bad after all.

//

A body acts as a tether. Grounds you to the physical world, so that the rest of you won’t float away into a different one.

“But,” Joshua says, frowning, “if it’s tying you down here, it’s also trapping you. What’s to say something else won’t climb right in?”

Seungkwan looks at him with tired eyes. Joshua doesn’t ever remember seeing him ever this haunted.

“Exactly,” Seungkwan turns away, voice breaking with shame. “Do you know what that does to a person? When even your body doesn’t belong to you anymore?”

//

You never think it’ll be you. Never. It’s always someone else, a friend of a friend of a friend. Somebody else’s horror story. A mother goes to sleep and wakes up as someone else and decides that now is a good time as ever to invest in cutlery. Knives are sharp and plenty in the kitchen.

You can see where this is going, don’t you?

Murder is easy when the hands you use to take a life don’t belong to you. It is even more useful when those very hands can’t get traced back to you. You’re a ghost in the shell, a stranger passing by, a whisper in the breeze. A fleeting memory. Who’s to say you were even there?

One day, Joshua gets picked. Not once does he feel lucky.

//

I am not here. I am not here. I am not here.

Maybe if he repeats it enough he will believe it.

//

Joshua wakes up to bloodstains on his hands. The blood is thick and red and oozing. Still warm. Still fresh. There is a dead body on the floor that doesn’t belong to him and one that is still alive, standing in the room — the one he woke up in but doesn’t quite own. Not anymore.

“What did you do?” Joshua croaks out in horror.

“Maybe the better question is, ‘What did you do?’” Minghao is mocking and cruel. It’s Joshua’s voice all the same. He registers it faintly, ringing in the back of his ears, used to the way it sounds but not the way it is spoken to him.

This is a horrid dream — wait, no. It’s a horrible reality.

This is Joshua’s reality.

Only a body has hands. Only a body can be tied down. Only a body can be capable of leaving a mark.

Minghao uses Joshua’s face to smile. The person staring back at him in the mirror isn’t him. Joshua wants to throw up. He wonders if his body will carry out the reaction. There is bile building in his throat. His mouth won’t open to let him check.

The corners of his mouth curl up, of someone else’s volition.

How are you going to prove that it’s me?

Edited 2021-12-31 22:05 (UTC)

It took me a solid 48 hours to process this because a) this is my very first time prompting for 17hols and The Infrequencies responded, and b) I’m fucking insane. I love that you took the words and interpreted them a little differently to me, I think that’s the beauty of this theme!! Anyway. Back to the insane part.

‘But Jeonghan does still think of him. In anger when he remembers the things that annoyed him, or with fondness, seeing a friend fall in love. But usually, he thinks of him when he needs to get off, thinks of the rough callouses of his palms, the kiss-perfect pout warm and plush against his own lips, slow and syrupy makeup sex to amend the hours or days of sniping at each other over next to nothing.’ Hhhhhooooooo this part is killing me, it’s the duality with which we remember people who have left our lives put into words. Like, so many people come and go, most of them you don’t even miss, but sc left a fucking mark on jh, he always has to live with his ghost - whether that’s remembering his touch, his love, the way they fought, the way he fucked- I AM CRAZY.

I could go on. Basically, I adore this. Thank you.

(Also I don’t know how to italicise on here, so please excuse that)

oh gosh, thank you! ~~to italicize, use the or tags, no spaces~~

i kept circling this prompt like a hawk until i thought of something so thank you for prompting! the burden of comparison is a phantom weight - it just never goes away.

Edited 2021-12-31 22:25 (UTC)

THIS IS SO GOOD I'M LOSING MY MIND the bodyswap the horror the terror the self-discovery the world-building I'm obsessed, fuck. And it's HAOSHUA? I feel like I've been given a gift... thank you for my life Karina...

okay first of all Joshua Hong's insistence that everything is okay? T___T heart-breaking, how he tries to convince himself that this isn't happening. I love that strong sense of denial, that jerk away from reality. It feels so real.
and holy shit, MINGHAO. Trying to be kind to Joshua by pouring him wine but really he's just being cruel, isn't he? It feels like a tease. He doesn't know what he's doing by snatching bodies but he likes it... AHHHHH?!

You never think it’ll be you. Never. It’s always someone else, a friend of a friend of a friend. Somebody else’s horror story. - I'm going to pass out the world-building here is so good, just a few specific details and I can fully /see/ this world ((brain explodes)) When you lose control of your body and that body commits a crime - does something atrocious and unforgivable - how do you reconcile with that? What level of responsibility do you have? Are you your body or are you IN your body? Who will believe you either way??

x___x you grappled with literally all of my favorite questions re: bodyswap, and the element of horror here is just phenomenal. I am going to be thinking about this forever thank you so much!!!

Ship/Member: mingyu-centric, gyuhan, tinges of gyuhao, tinges of seokhao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: insecurity, desiring love, introspection(?), character study, wanting to be loved for something beneath the surface, uncertainty
Permission to remix: Yes
A/N: i am posting this with a boatload of uncertainty on my shoulders because this is a leap outside my comfort zone. character studies are not my strongpoint but i wanted to give this a shot!! fingers crossed it's adequate to the prompt!!
***

Mingyu wakes up with disappointment sitting heavy on his chest. He can’t remember why. He thinks he was dreaming, some blurry thing where he’d been told by some blurry-faced fan that he looked good. It’s a compliment, right? He should be happy, right? Instead it rings hollow, like he’s an easter egg shell, all painted pretty on the outside and empty on the inside.

When he lifts his head Wonwoo is gone, his bed covers pristine and perfectly made. Mingyu feels a little bolt of resentment, at Wonwoo for leaving, at his neatness, or at his dream. One of those; he doesn’t want to think about it.

He leaves his bed unmade when he swings his legs off and sits up, ruffling his hair with one hand and checking his reflection briefly in the mirror on the wall, reflexively. He pinches his cheeks into a smile, massages his face muscles like dough until the smile comes natural, like he’s been smiling like this forever, like it’s not an art form he’s had to master after nights of red-rimmed eyes and feelings of insufficiency.

In the bathroom he practices again. Slight half moon. With teeth? No teeth. Crooked? Nah. Head tilt, that looks okay. Then he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror and cringes, feeling ridiculous, the back of his neck burning hot. Hurriedly he splashes water on his face and scrubs his teeth white. His hair is wild but he doesn’t want to care about that.

Instead he walks down the halls, passing Minghao’s room. There he lingers, hand an inch from the wood. Should he knock? Does Minghao want to see him right now? His smile had been strained last night when Mingyu had checked on him, his own smile wobbling when he said he’s fine. Minghao had given him a look, pinched between the eyebrows, as though he could see through the lie and was simply too kind to mention it. Mingyu might have called him a hypocrite if he had, but then they both would be. Tour has worn them all down.

Mingyu drops his hand, steps away, tries to look nonchalant when a staff member walks by. Instinctively he runs his hand through his hair and gives her a little smile, dipping his head. She flushes and looks away, pink in the cheeks. Abruptly Mingyu is disgusted. Is this who he is now? Greet people with a husk of a charmer and pretend he’s comfortable carrying that perception with him wherever he goes?

Jeonghan had prodded him once about it.

“I think it’s shallow, going by looks.” Mingyu had rolled his eyes and pretended that it didn’t hurt. “I thought this was an industry for talent.”

“Talent doesn’t sell, hyung,” Mingyu had snapped back, sharper than necessary, exasperated, “surely you know that.” By the way Jeonghan’s eyes had narrowed, he’d picked up something in Mingyu’s face or tone, irritatingly perceptive as he was. Mingyu felt the need to jab back, level the playing field, if only to soothe his wounded pride. With Jeonghan it always felt like this: constantly hauling himself to keep up. He hates it.

“What about your cheating tendency?” Mingyu muttered, resentful. “Playing clever, finding loopholes to swap for screen time? You think I haven’t noticed that?” It’s mean, Mingyu knew. It’s not like he was unaware that Jeonghan had his fair share of insecurities.

“We all do what we can to get by,” Jeonghan had said simply, eyes inscrutable on Mingyu. What he didn’t say was this: we do what we can to get by, because we both know we could’ve been easily replaced.

What Jeonghan didn’t say was this: we don’t have talent to sell. We have only this.

Mingyu hadn’t known what to say in the wake of that. But maybe the silence spoke enough.

A clattering of a hotel clean up cart jolts Mingyu back into the present. Unwittingly, he’d ended up in front of Seokmin and Jeonghan’s room. Voices are loud from the inside; something stings inside of Mingyu.

“Oh are you going in too?” Soonyoung is rounding the corner, nodding toward the door Mingyu’s hesitating in front of. He doesn’t wait to hear the answer, simply swipes a keycard he’d gotten somewhere and barges in. Mingyu catches the door before it can slam in his face; the stinging gets worse in his chest.

Inside Soonyoung is loud and prancing, bounding in and out of screen, overexcited like a puppy at dinnertime. Normally Mingyu would join him, but today all he feels is a mild annoyance.

“Is the food good?” He asks, to Seokmin, to Jeonghan, to whoever will listen amidst all the noise. It’s a disconnected phrase, but he can’t think of any other way to make himself known.

Seokmin turns and his expression becomes a little shocked. “Wuah, your hair.”

“I know, it’s messy,” Mingyu replies, wishing that Seokmin would notice something else about him, something less superficial. But he doesn’t. Snap out of it, Kim Mingyu. He sinks onto a corner of the bed instead, leaning back onto Seokmin, covering his hair with one hand. Seokmin’s arm drapes across his shoulders, and when he laughs Mingyu feels lighter instantly.

And then he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. They’re doing a VLive. Should he stay? Should he leave? He flutters around them for a while, until Jeonghan runs out of patience.

“Go quickly; it’s annoying.” Mingyu, where he’d been hovering near Jeonghan’s shoulder, wilts a little. Seokmin catches it and points it out, laughing.

“He’s hurt,” he says, comical. Mingyu schools his expression when Jeonghan looks up at him, an expression on his face that says, don’t take this seriously. He parrots it out loud too, stilted smile on his face.

“It’s just that you keep saying you’re gonna go!” Jeonghan defends, a patch-up, like he’s realized Mingyu might actually be hurt.

He is, a little, but he’ll never admit to that, not on camera. So he does the only thing he can think of: play into it.

“I’m sorry, goodbye,” he ducks into the camera frame, waves goodbye, smiles his bathroom-mirror smile. “I didn't know I was annoying.” Keeping his tone neutral is almost too easy. Leaving is easy too. He’s two-thirds of the way to the door when Seokmin tells him to stay.

“If you haven't eaten yet, eat with us.” Behind him, Jeonghan makes noises of agreement without looking up.

“No, I’m annoying,” he says back, and even he’s unsure whether he’s still playing into the joke (is it one? It doesn’t feel like one) or if he’s actually starting to believe it.

“Come on, eat with us,” Seokmin says, softer this time, and Mingyu relents.

/

He’s got a cup of Shin ramyeon in his hands when he sits down on the bed again. Jeonghan has gone somewhere. The air is quiet. Seokmin is on his phone. Mingyu opens his mouth to entertain the audience and shuts it when nothing surfaces, wondering what’s wrong with him. Why can’t he do his job right?

Jeonghan comes back again, nudging at Mingyu’s shoulder insistently.

“Move over there, I wanna sit next to Seokminnie.” Mingyu looks up, and Jeonghan seems to see the genuine weariness on his face. His face softens a fraction.

“There’s more camera room for your pretty face over there.” It’s exactly the wrong thing to say. Jeonghan’s eyes widen. Mingyu moves wordlessly. Once he’s settled, he tries for a smile at the camera, an attempt at coverup—look, there’s nothing wrong here.

Somehow they get caught up in a discussion about roommates, but Mingyu loses focus when Minghao crawls onto the bed, pushing into Seokmin’s embrace. Mingyu fumbles a sentence in his conversation with Jeonghan about their compatibility as roommates, distracted by the way Seokmin ruffles Minghao’s hair, the way they bump foreheads and Seokmin beams like Minghao’s the most precious thing ever. Jealousy is unnameable inside Mingyu.

Does he want Minghao to be happy like that with him, or does he want someone to look at him the way Seokmin looks at Minghao—like he’s someone worth adoring?

/

Mingyu feels lonely when Seokmin’s mom calls and he’s not in the frame. Jeonghan leans his head on Seokmin’s shoulder and calls her Eomma. Mingyu sits on the other side and eats silently.

The live passes by in a blur of conversation, words they string together to make for content. It feels like relief when Jeonghan finally asks him to shut off the camera.

Mingyu knocks it over, in true Mingyu fashion. They all yell in alarm, and Mingyu thinks it’s the most candid he’s been this entire live. He’s leaning against the wall when he finally rights the camera and the smile he has on doesn’t feel forced.

“Bye,” he says, waving. It’s a good image to end on: genuine, true.

Could you love me like this? He asks Carats silently, with all the desperation he’ll never reveal on camera. But the live disconnects and the comments vanish, and it’s just the three of them again.

/

“Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan starts, sprawled across the bed. Seokmin has gone off somewhere, maybe to Minghao’s room. Mingyu dismisses the thought forcedly.

“Hmm?” He fiddles with his phone’s home screen aimlessly, to keep his hands busy more than anything.

“You seem off today,” Jeonghan notes, his face still buried in the pillow. Mingyu answers him with silence. Jeonghan rolls over, face imprinted with red lines from the rumpled cover of his pillow. Mingyu kind of wants to laugh at it, but finds he has no energy to; he’s simultaneously too tired and too restless.

“What is it?” Jeonghan slides off the bed and comes to stand before where Mingyu is sitting, one leg crossed over the other, eyes fixed resolutely to his phone. A hand tips his face up by the jaw; Mingyu keeps his eyes glued to the vague English lettering on Jeonghan’s black shirt.

“Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan’s voice takes on an impatient edge; Mingyu wrenches his face away.

“It’s fine,” he says tersely, looking back down at his phone. He doesn't even have an app open; his phone is simply an avoidance mechanism–a fact Jeonghan is well aware of.

Jeonghan’s hand drops away. Mingyu convinces himself that he doesn’t miss the warmth.

“Okay, then,” Jeonghan says, voice distanced. “I’ll be here, I guess.”

/

Mingyu doesn’t talk to anyone else for the rest of the day and is feeling intensely bitter about it by the time night has fallen.

He had gone through their afternoon schedules with forced cheer, putting on smiles, another game of acting. Another game of pretending—that the exhaustion of tour isn’t stretching tension over all of them. Minghao still won’t look at him directly; now neither will Jeonghan.

When they get to the hotel most of them traipse off to their rooms immediately. Mingyu watches Seokmin’s back disappear into Minghao’s room and resentment rises to bite at the heels of his mind like a raucous dog. He turns himself sharply away.

“Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan comes up behind his shoulder, looking so out of it, like he’s ready to sleep for a week. They could all use that.

“What,” Mingyu says back dully, still staring at Minghao’s closed door, feeling the inexplicable sting of rejection.

“Come to my room,” Jeonghan says, and he’s not needling, not whining, simply—requesting. For some reason it strikes Mingyu as odd. But he follows when Jeonghan starts walking again.

Mingyu is flopped face first on the bed when Jeonghan comes out of the bathroom, barefaced and looking more refreshed. He whacks his hand towel against Mingyu’s ass. The victim yells.

“Yah!” Mingyu rolls over and sits up, face stormy. Jeonghan hesitates, his towel raised over his shoulder in preparation for a second attack. He lowers his arm when Mingyu’s expression remains unchanged. The humour slips from his face like dirty winter sludge.

“I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan murmurs, and that’s as close as he'll get to an apology, Mingyu knows. He huffs, shoulders drooping, collapsing in on himself. For someone so big Mingyu has felt small more often than not, beaten down by sugar-coated insults from early debut days and sometimes even his own members’ teasing. Sometimes maintaining his confidence can be so taxing.

“What’s going on today, Mingyu-yah?” Jeonghan knows better than to prod this time. He lays the question down as an opening. Mingyu wavers for a second before he gives in.

“I’ve been feeling…superficial, I think? lately,” He confesses, fiddling with the bed spread. “And I just wanna be loved for who I am below the surface, too, you know?”

He chances a glance at Jeonghan, who looks thoughtful, chewing on his bottom lip. Silence wells into the room.

Jeonghan breaks it a second later. “You are, though,” he says, very carefully, as though Mingyu might detonate if he pressed too hard. Mingyu blows out a breath.

“I know,” he mumbles, “but it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.” He sounds ungrateful, and he knows. It’s horrible, this feeling, but that doesn’t make it untrue.

Jeonghan hums softly, like he doesn’t know what to say, and truly, Mingyu can’t blame him. How do you remedy this sort of yearning? The desire to be seen without being seen through a screen? Their whole lives are cut and clipped and trimmed and edited until they’re screen models with just the right amount of personal struggle and victory. Sure, they have things like Hit The Road, and Going Seventeen, but still, that’s sifted content. There’s always a level of expectation that comes attached with camera lenses, and an idol persona they each don. Seungkwan’s entertainer, Jeonghan’s clever cheater/trouble maker, Soonyoung’s performer/tiger. Seungcheol’s leader, even.

It should be enough; they’ve already laid themselves bare enough for public figures. But somehow Mingyu still craves being truly known. Again, it is incredibly ungrateful to feel like this, he knows, when he has twelve other people around him who can lift his skin without touching him and recite his entire being.

“You have us,” Jeonghan offers, like a mind reader–maybe he is. “We'll always be here, to love you as you are.” It might be cheesy in another context, but Mingyu nods in this one. It’s not what he’s looking for, and Jeonghan knows that, but it has to be enough.

“Thanks hyung,” he says gruffly, swallowing down the tears. “I’m sor—“ Jeonghan shushes him immediately, crawling onto the bed and pulling them both down.

“Stay tonight,” Jeonghan says, gently, his arms a cradle around Mingyu.

“What about Seokmin?” He asks, half-hearted, already halfway convinced.

“He’s staying with Minghao—who you should really talk to, by the way.” Mingyu groans, partly because how does he know? And partly because he’s right.

“Yes hyung,” he mutters, rolling around and burying his face into Jeonghan’s chest, shrinking his large frame to fit. It feels nice, to be small and taken care of, safe in the comfort that he’s understood and loved. And maybe–

Maybe this is enough.

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

are we really trying to feel better? am i really trying to feel better? what would i have with out this? who am i? why should i be answering anyones questions or signing a piece of paper from anyone- what have i ever done to deserve that. i am not an heir. i am not special.
—allegedly, from the LiveJournal of Pete Wentz

Heralded as a king before I had a birthday
With double digits
Fit the crown to my head but I was only a kid
I'm just the man on the balcony singing:
"Nobody will ever remember me,"
Rejoice, rejoice and fall to your knees
—Fall Out Boy, From Now On We Are Enemies

Edited 2022-01-01 02:37 (UTC)

OHHH I'M SCREAMING THIS IS MORE WONDERFUL THAT I COULD'VE IMAGINED!! i'm so happy to see this more lighthearted side of them, when jeonghan is still a prince and they can still have carefree days. love the hint of jealousy on jeonghan's part, imagining cheol with other people,,,

"If you ever leave me, I'll kill you," he snarls, but the threat is devoid of his usual bite. "I'll have you beheaded. I can do that."

"Of course, Your Highness," Seungcheol giggles, and plants a large, sloppy kiss on Jeonghan's temple. Maybe he's a little drunk, too. His pupils are blown wide and glassy when he says,

"Take my life. It's always been yours, anyway."

THIS. PERFECTION. i'm going insane thank you so much for this!!!

oh my gosh.

this particular flavor of the seokhangyuhao in 2019 was once upon a time my preferred configuration so this stopped me in my tracks.

Mingyu doesn’t talk to anyone else for the rest of the day and is feeling intensely bitter about it by the time night has fallen. god i love how intensely he is in his head about it — reminds me of the gallery exhibition(?) he did years ago with art depicting the struggle of understanding himself.

also Jeonghan defends, a patch-up, like he’s realized Mingyu might actually be hurt. [...] He’s two-thirds of the way to the door when Seokmin tells him to stay. reminds me so strongly of a live post-music show promotion (don't ask me which) where everyone is laughing at mingyu and seokmin stops and checks to see if mingyu is okay. like gah, despite configuration they're still a family ;_____;

i love this. thank you so much

Ship/Member: Any but consider verkwan, soonhoon, or jihancheol
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

You're the only friend I need (you're the only friend I need)
Sharing beds like little kids (sharing beds like little kids)
And laughing 'til our ribs get tough (and laughing 'til our ribs get tough)
But that will never be enough (but that will never be enough)
-Lorde, Ribs

Years ago a friend of mine had a dream about a strange invention; a staircase you could descend deep underground, in which you heard recordings of all the things anyone had ever said about you, both good and bad. The catch was, you had to pass through all the worst things people had said before you could get to the highest compliments at the very bottom. There is no way I would ever make it more than two and a half steps down such a staircase, but I understand its terrible logic: if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.
-Tim Kreider

AAAAAAAAAAA GOD. hamlet horatio minwon...... FUCK. you got me good with this one

AHHHHH this is crazy. i mean it in the best way possible but like i am insane now. thank you!!!! first things first - treacherous being the perfect mw song actually? the ada limón title too... it's like you're literally in my head. and then this is so concise and really packs a punch... the hamlet jww and horatio kmg wow perfect. also love how the theme in meanie fic is that wonwoo literally doesn't know whats good for him... that's so real. the way u incorporated their game of go in order to reflect the state of (what's left of) their relationship. and ww goes and lets mingyu take care of him anyway. and then the very last couple of sentences.... absolutely insane and also perfect. i feel so bad for mw!! thank you so much for sharing this lovely fic i enjoyed it sm <3

T_____T this comment is everything!!! i feel really grateful and lucky that u read some of my writing to a friend. i'm honestly touched... and yes the light at the end of the tunnel, i wanted to end it on a little sliver of hope. anyway thank you sm for leaving such kind words and i'm glad to hear you enjoyed this <333 made my whole day

Ship/Member: Seungkwan-centric; SKZ Minho/Jungwoo (background)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: mention of suicide (not POV); join clone club they said, it'd be fun, they said; orphan black au
Permission to remix: Yes
for mods: i should've noted and didn't... going for 5 of a kind

well, this got away from me. my brain said "seungkwan alison hendrix" and produced this. skz minho as felix, i'm sorry for implying hyunggu as vic

***

Minho plants the idea first. The backpack is heavy in Seungkwan's still-shaking hands. On the table, the personal belongings of a suicidal man: a half-million won, phone full of selfies and a picture of a man kissing his cheek, running shoes, and an ID of someone wearing his face.

He’s had a rough go of the last year, and watching a man who looks just like him take off his shoes and hop in front of a train feels like the breaking point. Enter, his foster brother, here to make things worse.

"Well, like, what if you just..." Minho trails off, then frowns. It's too morbid to think about, surely. Just slinking into someone's life to take it over, like a cheap layer of paint. “It's like… borrowing.” He swallows loudly, like each gulp of beer is another step to believing.

Seungkwan studies the images, looking at the man's picturesque life, at least compared to his. Vacations. A smiling partner. Stability. He’s been on the move for so long that he doesn’t know who he is anymore. Maybe stepping into the still-warm loafers of a dead man is what he needs to start a new life.

"You're not technically stealing their life if you're, like, his long-lost sibling or something. You’re taking what’s rightfully yours."

“Lee Know,” Seungkwan hisses into his phone. The four walls of the bathroom stall feel claustrophobic, and Minho's inaccessibility is making him antsy.

A bulb of pink hand soap rests in the center of his palm like a stemless wine glass. Stomach churning, he takes another sip.

“Lee Minho, can you stop fucking Jungwoo for 5 minutes and call me back? Other Seungkwan is a cop. Who is in some deep shit. I repeat, I'm pulling out of this fucking—”

The soap tastes worse on the way back up.

He comes face to face with Kim Seungkwan by accident. In a wine bar of all places, waiting for Hyunggu to show his face. He steps in wearing an all-white suit like a statement, wearing so much self-assuredness his skin glows with it.

Kim Seungkwan, American-raised, changed his name from his adopted name to his husband's to feel closer to his heritage. The face he makes is identical to Seungkwan’s own, to the Seungkwan who stepped in front of the train.

“What in the hell do you think you're doing?” Is that what his voice sounds like? Oh God. The booth sinks as he sits, thigh to thigh, an arm falling around his shoulders. “You know you cannot show your face—”

The face he's always known morphs into something stony. “You're not him.”

Exhaling, he confirms the suspicion with a glass to his lips. “He's dead.”

A darkness takes over, hovering over their bodies like a heavy cloud.

“Can you tell me who we are to each other?”

Chuckling, the other man shakes his head. “Are you kidding me?” There is no humor in his voice, his clumsy speech suddenly very sharp. “I am not doing that.”

Sliding off of the bench, he clears his throat and stands. “You need to go home and wait for a call.”

The call brings him to Kim Seungkwan’s home in the middle of the night. His face is unmade, dull, hair flattened when he answers the door.

“Hurry up. Close it and lock it.”

“Are you always this bitchy?” Seungkwan asks, eyeing the kitchen knife in Seungkwan's hand. “My husband is sleeping, so if you make any noise, I will kill you,” he replies, voice pinched.

He leads Seungkwan to an office on the opposite side of the apartment. It's pristine, practically a museum compared to the life he's taken over. This Seungkwan loves a mess, down to the man who keeps knocking at his door in the middle of the night.

“You know, I’ve never had a blood relation, but being your twin is hell.”

A shadow shifts behind the door, and Seungkwan stiffens. Should he have brought a weapon, too?

“You have no idea what you're in for,” the other Seungkwan says, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. It relaxes into something more pleasant as he waves to the figure behind the door.

And then there were three.

“We're clones?”

“Genetic identicals.”

And then four. He meets the redheaded version of himself when the man crash lands into the back of his car. They only have moments together before someone puts a bullet in his skull and nearly takes Seungkwan out in the process.

Five. He speaks with a heavy Slavic accent and Kim Seungkwan has to translate using his distant memory of his adoptive family's Ukiranian. He develops a fondness for calling the set of them hyungs. It would be endearing, if he weren't out of his fucking mind.

Six, seven, eight, and so on. The more they meet, the more entrenched in danger they become. Seungkwan’s life was already more complicated, but now he's fully on the run. Running shoes on his feet, cash lining his pockets. A wallet full of photographed memories. From the road, he activates a new prepaid phone. Three numbers are already programmed in it.

To Minho, he texts, after all of this you owe me dinner. bitch

Edited 2022-01-01 01:23 (UTC)

Ship/Member: Woozi/Taeyong (NCT)
Major Tags: aquarium setting, catboys
Additional Tags: wooahae, meet cute, jellyfish facts, soonwoo on an aquarium date
Permission to remix: Yes

word count: 844
well i just had to. happy new year!

***

If anyone asked him, Jihoon would strictly deny spending a good time third wheeling. It’s not even third wheeling, it’s more like babysitting. Catsitting? Who knows. Certainly not Jihoon, not since they’ve reached the jellyfish tanks and he’s been hypnotized by the colors.

They float up and down the column of water, the light at the bottom changing rhythmically and cast shadows of their tentacles on the walls of the tank. It’s one of the most peaceful thing Jihoon has ever seen. He read on one of the explanatory posters that jellyfishes are mostly made of water, and they surely move like it. Makes Jihoon wish he was made of mostly water and could just float around without a single thought. Sounds like an interesting lifestyle.

He spends long enough staring at the jellyfish’s brainless dance that one of the aquarium employees actually comes up to him. His name tag reads Taeyong and he seems to be about as uncomfortable with this interaction as Jihoon is.

“Just came to check if everything is alright?” he says.

Jihoon stares at the jellyfish. He swears one of them stares back. “Yeah, I’m fine. They’re just really fascinating creatures.”

Taeyong seems to relax, his shoulders drop and he comes next to Jihoon, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the tank together. “They are.” He points to one of them, swimming towards Jihoon. “This is a spotted jellyfish. Species with stinging tentacles usually hunt for their prey, but this little guy has a sweet symbiosis going on. There’s a little unicellular photosynthetic organism that lives in its tissue and provides it with photosynthesis, which the spotted jellyfish repays with minerals and nutrients from the water and the soil. But it also has like a bunch of mouths to eat plankton down these tentacles over there.”

“Woah…”

“Huh?”

Jihoon closes his mouth and stares back at the tank. “Sorry. Go on.”

Taeyong keeps one eyebrow raised at him. “Anyway, these guys usually live in pretty tight groups. They’re called smacks!” He giggles. Jihoon just stares, hoping that somehow the right words will magically come to him.

They don’t, and after a moment of silence, Taeyong clears his throat. “Sooo… are you here alone or?”

“I’m here with a couple of friends.” He points to Soonyoung and Wonwoo who are on the other side of the room, squishing their noses against the glass. Jihoon winces. “Sorry about them. I can’t take them anywhere!”

“Oh them! I thought they were on a date.” Taeyong leans in, ready to hopefully get some nice gossip. “Is there anything going on between them or…”

“Yeah, they’re dating. I’m just here to make sure they stay alive and behave properly in society. I’m like… their human supervision?” He can almost see the cogs turning in Taeyong’s brain through his big eyes. Wow those things are big.

“Oh… They don’t seem very dangerous though, why do they need supervision?”

Jihoon shrugs. “They’re cats- well, Wonwoo’s a cat. Soonyoung’s a tiger. And they’re in an aquarium full of good looking fish, so they’re not relying on their self control today.”

Taeyong nods in understanding and his eyes move over to the couple, a single eyebrow raising. He does that a lot, Jihoon already notices. It makes him look really serious, and turns his big eyes into something more intimidating.

Soonyoung is pointing at the small sharks and smiling at Wonwoo. They don’t seem like the kind to succumb to their animal urges and devour an entire fish tank - but you never know what Soonyoung might do if he gets really hungry.

“So you think the fish are good looking?” Taeyong asks out of nowhere.

“What?” Jihoon was too focused on his friends to realize that Taeyong had been smirking at him for probably quite a while now. The attention makes him want to hide his face and never show it again.

“You think the fish are sexy,” Taeyong states.

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s basically what you just said. I know a fish guy, maybe I could hook you up.”

Jihoon shakes his head violently. He has enough animals in his life, and he’s not sure the guy would survive spending too much time around Junhui anyway. “No, I didn’t say that. Fish are just… they’re fish. Why are you trying to make me say that fish are hot?”

Taeyong chuckles and pulls a strand of hair behind his ear. “I was just trying to see if you were single or not.”

“Well I’m certainly not dating any fish.”

“What about fish that moved to the land and evolved?”

“Birds?”

He rolls his eyes, Jihoon bites back a smile. “Don’t be difficult. Or be difficult, if that’s what you want.”

Jihoon looks at the jellyfish. They look just as empty headed as they did a few minutes ago. He distantly wonders if they would ever get to move to the land, evolve so much that they gain consciousness and hate themselves for it for millennia to come. Sounds like quite the dreadful fate.

“I won’t be difficult,” he decides.

Oh my god this is DELIGHTFULLY terrifying. I was tense the whole time, starting really from Wonwoo’s face doesn’t flicker. It remains still. Smooth. Like a rancid, forest pond. “I never forgot you, hyung.” !! His face smooth like a rancid forest pond, WOW. Your descriptions work so well here to show there’s something Very Off about the situation but also how Seungcheol can’t really accept/acknowledge that because he’s so torn up by memory and grief.

and HOLY SHIT that kiss! The teeth!! I love that moment, the startling twist, the wrongness of the whole thing. So freaky and cool. Thank you soooo much I love what you did with this prompt!!

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags:
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I am the shape you made me.
Filth teaches filth.

Look at this godforsaken mess that you've made me / You showed me colors I can't see with anyone else
—Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs

Edited 2022-01-01 01:39 (UTC)

oh this is absolutely wonderful--the tender moments coupled with the voice inside your head whispering in warning that something is coming... like the contrast here: When Chan uncovers his basket, the smell of warm bread fills up the air. It’s almost enough to cover up the constant lingering smell of ashes. is just so impactful to me!!! + I'm absolutely obsessed with katniss!seungkwan? thank you for sharing!! <3

heh thanks for this prompt! really pushed me out of my comfort zone to go deeper. also the vlive this is based on (you probably know which) has always given me Feelings—-like there’s something else afoot behind their conversations and interactions so I was so glad to have had this opportunity to stretch that out a lil. Thanks for reading!

dw user klav thanking me for their life when really it should be me thanking you for my life (all the stories you have written seriously are amazing) T___T wheee the comments that you make here about bodies and how responsible are you for what you do (when you’re not you) make me feel insane bc yes that’s exactly what i was going for with this one… i’ve never done horror before but your comment gave me great strength and warmth for when / if i want to try again!!! TYSM FOR READING

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Page 39 of 73

2022 Round 1: Quotes

Re: [FILL] worm.

Re: [FILL] heavy is the head

until the next truck comes

wooahae

Re: [FILL] a whisper in the breeze

[FILL] a whisper in the breeze

Re: FILL: what's left of you

Re: FILL: what's left of you

Re: [FILL] a whisper in the breeze

Re: la petit mort

[FILL] please love me for something more

a crown to my head

Re: [REMIX] crowning glory

Re: [FILL] please love me for something more

to know your heart

Re: until the next truck comes

Re: until the next truck comes

Re: [FILL] fight each other or for each other

Re: symmetry/asymmetry

[FILL] wooahae

Re: [FILL] out of the woods

the mess you made

Re: [FILL] you'll allow it?

Re: [FILL] please love me for something more

Re: [FILL] a whisper in the breeze