2022 Round 1: Quotes

[hwarium]

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! <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> <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. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> 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) <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> 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 ABOUT DATES FAQ BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ ❮ ROUND 1: QUOTES ❯ ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES ROUND 3: LAST WORDS

Comments

Re: [FILL] go on and ask him if it's really so silly

[vampiredumpling]

me and wonwoo 🤝 "soonyoung pretty"

thank you 🥺 you're the best im so glad u enjoyed reading this ily ❤️

Re: blasting the aloneness wide open [FILL]

[greycheonsa]

Ship/Member: platonic scoups/dino
Tags: canon divergent, what if chan left svt to be the leader of pledis' new boy group that never came to fruition, mentions of seungcheol's anxiety
Permission to remix: Please ask

it is four am on a work night. apologizes in advance if this makes no real sense.

things are meant to be fairly canon-compliant as far as timeline, so it's generally set in late 2019. the specificities of what happened in late 2019, though, have been altered a bit and left deliberately vague for the sake of fiction. will leave a comment if i xpost on ao3.

***

lee chan is fourteen years old.

lee chan is fourteen years old, but you'd never guess it from the way he's standing in front of seungcheol, jaw set, eyes determined.

"hyung, i'm not going to be part of seventeen project anymore."

seungcheol's never considered himself particularly close to chan - that honor goes to soonyoung, wonwoo, and some of the other younger trainees - but they've bonded in the way you can only bond when you're crammed into a basement practice room with lurid green walls and no windows and asked to be on live camera for hours on end, six days a week.

"oh?" he raises an eyebrow. he's not entirely sure why chan's telling him this. there's a bit of a running joke amongst the trainees that if (big if, because their debut has already been pushed three times in two years and seungcheol's already had one debut project fall through) they debut, he's going to be the leader, but that's mostly because he's the oldest and he's been training the longest. even so, seungcheol is confident in his own abilities as someone squarely in the middle of the pack. it would make much more sense for jihoon or soonyoung to lead the group. it's not like he's particularly interested in leadership, either, much more comfortable with being directed by someone who knows better.

chan nods. "daepyo-nim called me into the office a few weeks ago and asked me if i wanted to be the leader of pledis' next group instead."

"did you tell anyone?"

"no." chan gnaws on his lower lip, and the illusion breaks instantly - he looks every bit the child he is. seungcheol isn't very old, either, but eighteen feels like generations away. "i wanted to think about this on my own and make sure it was the right choice."

it's not that seungcheol is irresponsible, but taking on responsibility has never been one of his strong suits. his own brother is three years older, and his family treated him like the maknae he is. even amongst the other trainees, he's prone to roughhousing and playing around more often than he's quick to give direction.

but looking at chan, with his too-long hair and his too-big shirt and the gangliness of his limbs he has yet to grow into, stirs something oddly protective in him.

"and you're sure?" seungcheol asks. "that this is the right choice?"

there's a second where chan seems to falter, taking a half-second too long to say yes, hyung, this is exactly what i want.

"i'm sure," chan says, squaring his shoulders.

seungcheol stands, and even at full height chan is still a full head shorter than him.

"okay." seungcheol reaches out, pulls chan into a hug, because it feels like the right thing to do. he feels so tiny in seungcheol's arms. "i'll miss you, chan."

"thanks, hyung. i'll see you onstage someday."

chan grins as they untangle themselves, gives a full ninety-degree bow, and leaves the room.

seungcheol watches him go, and wonders why something doesn't feel entirely right.

even so, chan should be fine. he's driven and talented and has years ahead of him.

 

lee chan is twenty-one years old.

lee chan is twenty-one years old, but he carries himself like someone much older - there's a heaviness to his eyes that seungcheol doesn't think he had at twenty-one.

pledis has yet to show any signs of debuting a new boy group - pristin was left to fizzle out barely two years into their debut, and seungcheol's been halfway looped in on conversations that pledis might get acquired by another company, making every other trainee's future even more uncertain.

the forever trainee, he's heard others call chan. chan's still not the record-holder for longest idol training period, but seven years is no short period of time. more than once, seungcheol's wondered why chan didn't quit, or move to another agency at the very least. maybe get his military service out of the way.

the lee chan seungcheol knew seven years ago, though, would never quit until he reached his goals.

seungcheol doesn't interact with the trainees much, given that he spends nearly every waking moment being the leader of a relatively successful idol group (have you heard of seventeen? they're on a world tour right now), but he's a month into treatment for his fucked-up brain and everyone else is gone and he couldn't think of anything else to do besides loiter around the company building, because his ten of his brothers in all but blood are an ocean away, jeonghan's back home in hwaseong trying to fix his own medical issues, and he doesn't think he can face his real family right now.

it's in the hallway in front of the dance practice rooms where he finds chan, because where else would he be? some things never seem to change.

"hey, lee chan," seungcheol calls out, and he doesn't exactly mean to say anything else but maybe he's lonelier than he thought: "are you busy tonight?"

chan shakes his head. he doesn't seem entirely surprised to see seungcheol here, and he has to know that the rest of the group is on tour. word must get around quick.

"wanna get a drink? hyung's treat."

"if you asked me to pay for you, i'd be so offended," chan scoffs, but there's no heat behind it.

technically, seungcheol isn't supposed to be drinking right now, but he forgot to take his meds today (it's a hard habit to remember, especially when he doesn't have seungkwan talking his ear off about taking daily supplements at large), so he figures a beer or two won't kill him.

they end up going to the empty dorms, because seungcheol is more-or-less meant to be on some form of house arrest, and being in private means that they don't need to be so careful. seungcheol doesn't need some sasaeng fan snapping a picture of him in front of a club, and if chan wants to have a career in the industry then he doesn't either.

this is how the two of them end up sitting on the floor in the living room, empty takeout boxes and glass bottles scattered between them. things had been a little awkward at first - seungcheol doesn't think he's had an extended conversation with chan in at least a year - but alcohol helps get things going and chan tends to talk a lot, which takes care of the rest.

it's nice enough to catch up for a bit, even though they both know they're talking circles around what's actually going on. chan talks about some of the younger trainees he's gotten close with, how he's taken to teaching them and giving them tips on their monthly evaluations, and seungcheol fills him in on what the other members were up to and tries to avoid talking about himself.

the cluster of bottles next to chan continues to grow, and chan continues to slump harder against the sofa.

"hyung," chan slurs, "i don't think i should've done it. i should've stayed with you."

it takes a second for seungcheol to realize what he's referring to, and he finds his fingers clenching too-hard around the glass bottle in his hand.

why did you think it was a good idea to ask me for advice? seungcheol almost cuts back. i barely knew anything more than you did. between the two of us, i thought you had a better head on your shoulders.

it takes more alcohol than the two of them have drunk combined to get him to truly lose his head, so he holds his tongue.

"i'm sorry, chan," he says instead. "i wish i knew."

"do you wish it were different?" chan asks. "do you ever wish you weren't the leader?"

all the time, he wants to say. sometimes, i don't think i'm strong enough for this. i wake up and i think someone else should be doing my job.

but to say that would be to tell chan that he's wasted the past seven years of his life chasing a dream that turns into a nightmare that you never know when you'll be able to wake up from.

so instead, he shrugs. "it's hard. but i'm not sure that anyone else could lead the group and have it work."

chan raises his beer, tipping the neck toward seungcheol in a mock toast before he finishes it off, and seungcheol knows that chan knows he's lying through his teeth.

he almost wishes chan would say it out loud.

Re: [FILL] go on and ask him if it's really so silly

[vampiredumpling]

YEAH WONU BI!!!!!! and the ksy in the middle!!!!! and that's so kind of u to say thank u mishi 🥺❤️

Re: [FILL] go on and ask him if it's really so silly

[vampiredumpling]

OMG RIGHT??? i think we should put hoshi in magical forests more often he could easily be the prettiest fae creature EVER. thank you so much for reading!! cheers to wonu bi!!!!!!

Re: [FILL] empty chairs at empty tables

[vampiredumpling]

no, u

Re: [FILL] empty chairs at empty tables

[vampiredumpling]

omg karina ;___; thank u i loved reading ur thoughts esp when u said hansol was still undeniably alive oh god i didnt think i could hurt more from writing this but i apparently can!!

also hereditary is a great horror film, tho it definitely isn't for everybody. if you're into the occult and experiencing huge waves of discomfort and anxiety, then you might like it!

Re: [FILL] empty chairs at empty tables

[vampiredumpling]

hi mishi 🥰🥰 thank you for reading im glad you "enjoyed" it 🥰

Re: [FILL] empty chairs at empty tables

[vampiredumpling]

waaah im so glad you liked it i never thought i'd ever write mcd but i couldnt resist your prompt! just reeled me in like a helpless fish. thank you for reading!! ❤️

Re: blasting the aloneness wide open [FILL]

[deadwine]

my god this is everything i could've asked for and more...the fact that they drew on two very real things, and this is actually all within the realm of a timeline that was entirely too possible just makes it all the more hard-hitting. that it is chan and seungcheol, through seungcheol's perspective and through his own break from the group of course just gives it an added level of hurt, /and/ retrospective.

these sections especially stood out to me:
it would make much more sense for jihoon or soonyoung to lead the group. it's not like he's particularly interested in leadership, either, much more comfortable with being directed by someone who knows better.

and then-
all the time, he wants to say. sometimes, i don't think i'm strong enough for this. i wake up and i think someone else should be doing my job.


but to say that would be to tell chan that he's wasted the past seven years of his life chasing a dream that turns into a nightmare that you never know when you'll be able to wake up from.


so instead, he shrugs. "it's hard. but i'm not sure that anyone else could lead the group and have it work."

it's really something that seungcheol's personality lends itself to but you've brought out so well how his own response to how he feels about being the leader changed through predebut and now, when he is in charge of a group-a really successful one at that. and of course, how chan may not have seen through him back then but he sure as hell does now, but the circumstances now are too different from either of them to comment on it.

man, this really was beyond what i expected, thank you so much for sharing it!!!

[theeldorado]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: long-distance [lovers], dreams as a means to be close to you, possibly magical realism ?, anything!
Do Not Wants: MCD

Prompt:

[Last night,] I had the same dream again
At the end of the endless desert
There is a dazzling city
But it always vanishes before I get there

~El Dorado, EXO

[FILL] the chorus is silent

[fleurissons]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Wonwoo/Minghao
Major Tags: Character Death
Additional Tags: monster hunting team, seungcheol's prophetic dreams but time-travel + wonhao the tag combi, the mortifying ordeal of…
Permission to remix: Please ask ^^

at this rate I think "dw user infrequencies" should be included in my baitlist.
(mods, does this qualify for rarepair? :D)

****

Can you fall in love, knowing the ruination that awaits? Or is hope for a happy ending necessary to sustain love? What happens when you glimpse the finale as you are already on your way down?

/

Four-year-old Seungcheol had climbed into his parents' bed in the dead of night, soaked to the bone and freezing, to deliver a message through chattering teeth: Appa, you're going to die. I was there with you and you're going to die and there’s a storm and you’re going to die and—

He told them what happened as best as he could, but his vocabulary wasn’t advanced enough to describe the maze-like alleyways, crimson moonlight, and a heart beating without a body.

In the end, his blubbering mess made no sense to his parents. It’s not real, they soothed him. It’s just a dream, Seungcheollie.

Then why am I wet?

/

Being able to jump forward makes hunting monsters easier, even though Seungcheol never gets the control aspect quite right. He has no say in how far he jumps or how long he stays there before he’s yanked back to the present, although it always happens when he falls asleep.

Seungcheol eventually concludes it may not be something he’s meant to control after all. He doesn't make the jumps happen, they happen to him. Besides, only he gets to have a 5-second visit into the future as a head start. That has to mean something.

His primary targets are nightwalkers, since they’re the ones who made him fatherless. Seungcheol has bills to pay, though, so from time to time, he takes on miscellaneous cases other hunters brand too dangerous.

Risk and reward.

But mostly, Seungcheol goes where he leads himself.

/

The tavern is everything he remembers it to be—or the way he will come to remember it. Seungcheol chooses a strategic table right across the door and orders a draught of ale.

Mid-first gulp, they walk in.

Seungcheol notices the wine-haired man first, more stunning in the flesh than any dream can conjure. The man catches him staring. His companion, whose broad shoulders almost entirely eclipse the wine-haired man's as he stands behind him, has to repeat his name twice to be heard. Seungcheol reads his lips, coloured to be kissed.

Minghao.

/

By the time the barkeep ushers the last of his patrons out, Seungcheol is ready to turn in alone. The problem with lacking control is he can only access discrete points in time. His jumps are like broken cassette tapes that skip an entire song and a half within the playlist. When it comes to the missing in-between, Seungcheol is as clueless as the next person.

He is almost out the door when a hand with calloused fingers wraps around his elbow.

Seungcheol turns around.

It isn't Minghao.

/

Six years ago, a demon possessed Minghao's best friend and almost flung them both out of their apartment window. Fortunately, Junhui is still very much alive and kicking today. He sends Minghao postcards from various locations, always excited about the next adventure.

Minghao is an artist, before that. Still is now. He translates Seungcheol's descriptions into drawings, spends hours hunched over papers or canvases, right cheek perpetually streaked with his chosen medium. Oil paint, most of the time.

Hunting runs in Wonwoo's blood. His father was one of the best, his mother an even better one. He has a younger brother, now retired from the family business. Bohyuk wants to live a long life, Wonwoo once explained. Some selfish part of Seungcheol is grateful Wonwoo stayed on course.

He takes Minghao's visual clues and makes sense of them, turns a setting into a location, puts names on portraits, breathes life into each story.

Breathes life into them both.

/

No one knows—not even Wonwoo, who’s actively trying to find a definitive answer—where Seungcheol’s blessing comes from. Why he’s chosen to receive it.

Or what he’s supposed to do, when one jump turns it into a curse.

/

They deserve to know. He has already told them, anyway.

Seungcheol gives them a version of the truth they can accept.

"We die tomorrow," he reveals.

Minghao makes a confused noise, setting down his cup of tea. Seungcheol is already mourning him. Soon enough, he won't be making any more sounds. He won’t be brewing any more loose leaves.

"Hyung?"

"You heard correctly."

He expects: an impossible No! Jump again and save us! demand or a dubious, What do you mean we die? How? or just a downright scathing, I don't fucking believe you.

Instead, Wonwoo leaves. Slams the door on his way out. Seungcheol’s head pounds. He closes his eyes to ease the pain, fully expecting Minghao to chase after Wonwoo.

This is the in-between. Seungcheol is blind here—he's never lived through this before. Why the fuck does he even have to now.

Minghao stays. He cards his bony fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, colourful fingertips pressing into the pressure points on his skull. He’s good at this. He’s always been good at this.

"He'll be back," he murmurs reassuringly. Seungcheol presses their foreheads together. "Wonwoo-hyung's smart enough to realise how he wants to spend his last hours. Well, maybe not as smart as me."

Wonwoo bursts into the room again.

"I heard that,” he throws at Minghao.

“Wonwoo-yah,” Seungcheol says, pained.

Hyung is sorry.

“We die tomorrow.” Wonwoo may be echoing Seungcheol, but his tone couldn’t be more different. Resolution colours his low timbre, not resignation. "Then we should stop pretending. We don't have time."

He pulls Seungcheol into a harsh kiss.

/

They climb in bed with him. They climb in him, too, and neither one ever truly leaves.

/

It happens fast. Like falling asleep. Like waking up from a dream.

Seungcheol turns away one second and Minghao's collapsed to the ground with an anguished shriek, graceful limbs now folded lifelessly underneath his lithe body. The creature charges at Seungcheol next, its break-neck speed utterly terrifying. Out of nowhere, Wonwoo comes out and bodily slams into it. Being fearless has its advantages, Seungcheol supposes. Does it have something to do with knowing the outcome?

Wonwoo manages to drive the blade into the soft flesh under the creature's chin, but not without taking a claw to the chest. Life drains away from the creature's beady eyes.

Then life drains away from Wonwoo's, too.

/

Here was how Seungcheol knew:

Dried paint tubes. Minghao's abandoned tea wares collecting dust. His unfinished drawing of Wonwoo, arms outstretched across the bed as sunlight bathes his naked body—reaching for Seungcheol, it turns out.

An old pair of black-rimmed glasses, never to be used again. One last journal entry signed J.W.W. dated the morning of his death; a love letter to Minghao and Seungcheol. Their broken radio with no one around to fix it.

/

He left out the part where he survived, where he buried them and howled until his lungs were choke-full of soil, a wolf baying at the unreachable moon.

They would have never welcomed the thought of leaving Seungcheol behind. They would have wasted their last breaths trying to change the inevitable.

He also left out the grave.

One grave.

Seungcheol prayed it would make it easier for them to find each other in the hereafter.

/

Can you love someone knowing you will outlive them?

You can.

In one lifetime, Seungcheol does it twice over.

Re: [FILL] the chorus is silent

[deadwine]

this is killing me for a lot of reasons but mostly because wren totally posted this aiming to snipe MEjrhvgrnbhsmn i love that you got caught instead hehe (i win this round, too) but mostly i am glad because i got to read this as a result.

i love this universe how are you so incredible at world-building with so few words at your disposal, every one of their specialities, the monsters they're hunting, seungcheol's childhood, you paint such a vivid picture its impossible not to /see/ it in front of me.

every little section has so much character, im so in love with their first meeting and how their relationship builds and how fitting it is that it comes full circle and sc gets left behind again.

these lines:
Minghao makes a confused noise, setting down his cup of tea. Seungcheol is already mourning him. Soon enough, he won't be making any more sounds. He won’t be brewing any more loose leaves.

god i love your words. thank you for biting the bait and feeding me hehe...thanks wren for doing the baiting ig <3333 (happy rarepair halloffame!)

Re: [FILL] we were like gods at the dawning of the world

[seokmin_liker]

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR i love this. i love seokhao so much and i FULLY relate to using minghao pov just to talk about how beautiful seokmin is. and you've done it so well!!!! he's so golden <3 i mean the fact that this is a giovanni's room prompt in the first place is just absolutely incredible and then you've made it so reminiscent of tsoa and it's just so wonderful!!!

why do fools fall in love?

[nitemareodyssey]

Ship/Member: hoshi/mingyu (soongyu)
Major Tags: pining, first kiss
Additional Tags: soonyoung being a simp for mingyu, girlfriendisms, making himself small for this big tall boy, smooching in the rain, smut if you feel like it!
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

why do fools fall in love?
why do birds sing so gay?
and lovers await the break of day?
why do they fall in love?

- Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, 'Why Do Fools Fall in Love?'

Re: [FILL]

[seokmin_liker]

good lord. when i realised what was happening... god. wow. thank u

Re: [FILL] the chorus is silent

[infrequencies]

i've read this multiple times now and gah. dude.

Re: [FILL] the chorus is silent

[klav]

God this took my breath away, it’s stunning. Thank you!

Re: [FILL] roman holiday

[klav]

Ahhh this is lovely! The image of gyuhao on a first class flight to Paris, glasses of red wine in hand, is utterly perfect. I really enjoy how you chose to explore their relationship and their opposing personalities *___* Mingyu's boldness comes from the opposite place of his own. It's not because it doesn't matter, but because in this moment it is everything. - How fascinating!! How perfect!! Thank you for this!!

Re: [FILL] let the tide in

[klav]

THIS IS SO SWEET I feel all warmed up… they’re in Love! “I wish I could stay like this forever, Minghao. Just us, the sun, the sea. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” - (yelling) (yelling) (yelling) <3!!

Re: [FILL]: go choke (me)

[klav]

extremely extremely perfect thank you!!

Re: [FILL]

[klav]

Holy shit, this is incredible. The realization is slow and dreadful and masterfully crafted. This took me out like a train: "Are you going to cry every time we fuck?" wow,, thank you

Re: [FILL] roman holiday

[citadis]

Wowowow thank you so much, this is lovely ;__; "Would you rather be alone?" Mingyu asks. He is shameless like that. he really is lol. Thank you<3

sun/moon

[klav]

Ship/Member: Any, Wonwoo/Any, Seokmin/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: (optional) clashing love languages, sci-fi
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The moon is meant for lovers. Lovers lose
Themselves in others. Do not see themselves.
The moon does. The moon does.
The moon is not a yellow camera. It perceives
What wasn't, what undoes, what will not happen.
—Jack Spicer, Vocab

&

You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only
the sun has come this close, only the sun.
—Shauna Barbosa

Re: [FILL] you are what you cover up

[moonlitmelodiesfic]

Ship/Member: Joshua-centric, interpretive jihan...
Major Tags: Domestic Abuse, Alcoholism, just please be careful reading this, this speaks explicitly about abuse and scars and bruises being left on skin.
Additional Tags: backward narrative, first person pov, purposeful lowercase, self-repulsion
Permission to remix: Please ask
A/N: sigh this is so loosely based on the prompt im so sorry
majorly inspired by Patrick Roche's poem '21'. I borrowed its format of delivery. check out the poet and his works, he's incredible.
also please let me know if anything (tags, wording, etc) needs changing
***

21. they tell me my father is dead. they look at me as if i might cry, scream, throw up, faint. they look at me like they pity me and i wanna tell them i don’t want it. i don’t need it. don’t pity me. don’t make me another thing you can smother with faux-sympathetic words and barbed smiles. don’t let your eyes drift to my long sleeves in the dead of summer. don’t wonder what i’ve covered up. if i show you it’ll be the only thing that defines my being.

please. don’t look at me as if you already see the raised flesh, the ugly expanse of skin that molds over my flesh and bones.

don’t look at me like you find it repulsive.

i already do.

20. my father uses alcohol as an excuse. he uses drunkenness as a mask and a knife and guts himself, guts my mother, with it. when that’s not enough the belt kisses his hand and whips across skin and i pretend i don’t feel the second-hand sting on my back. he leaves my mother a shattered mess on the floor and expects me clean it, her, up like i do his vomit when he’s so drunk he can’t even make it to the toilet. in the morning he’ll stumble bleary-eyed into the kitchen to find breakfast blackened and burned on the stove, the fire alarm wailing alongside his screams, at me, at my mother. the police/firemen/saviors come and

19. ask if i’m okay. i nod and smile and pull down my sleeves to hide the purple and red and throw-up yellow. yes. i’m fine. please take my father to the hospital. i think he burned himself. no i don’t wanna come. i wanna stay here. watch over my mother. they nod. they smile. they leave. my father is gone. i’m so relieved i can cry.

i don’t. my mother does and i pet her hair, hug her close, ask

18. “eomma are you okay.” she answers with swallowed-down tears and a wobbly voice. i don’t believe her but i don’t tell her so, instead i nod and try to smile and reassure her emptily. “appa is gone” i say and immediately she sags. her hands are thin and dry as paper and ashes when she runs them over my face, asks if i’m okay. i nod. i smile. i lie. she tells me she’s so glad that i’m okay and i wanna ask what does that mean. what does o-k-a-y mean and how do i understand it if i’ve never understood it. my entire life i’ve always used it as placation. a deflect tool. look away. it’s fine here.

it’s always worked. it works on her too. i don’t know why that hurts.

17. i lose my best friend. he tells me he doesn’t understand me. he tells me he’s hurt i don’t trust him. how do i tell him trust isn’t something i dare own. how do i tell him my skin is a road map of scars and bruises and my mind is a decimated ruin of fear, hurt and trauma. how do i tell him i want to trust him, i want him to pry my rib cage open, lift my skin up at the seams, unravel my mind and kiss the tears away and still love me despite it all. how do i tell him i love him without telling him. how do i trust him. how do i love him.

how do i love. i’ve no frame of reference. my father delivers blows instead of kisses and calls it love. my father batters my skin and calls it care. my father

16. wasn’t always like this. my father used to laugh instead of shout and my mother used to smile instead of cry. i used to look between them and wish to be like them.

15. my father biked with me to high school and waved goodbye at the gate to the courtyard and told me he loved me. my father told me he’d be right there when the school bell rings.

he was.

i trusted that he would be.

14.

13.

12.

11. my father and mother walked me to middle school on my first day and proudly snapped pictures of me in my uniform. they held my hands and swung me between them and i was happy. it has become a blurry memory, happiness.

10.

9.

8. in grade three eomma sends me to summer camp. they ask about our favorite colors. everyone says purple or blue or red or black or pink. the counselor looks at me expectantly. i don’t tell her i think all those colors are disgusting. i don't ask her how those colors can be pretty still when they have been painted across your little chubby arms, stubby little legs and smooth back for as long as you can remember. green, green, green, i say. like my hoodie, plastered to my skin by sweat. green, green, green, i pluck at the sleeves.
“joshua, aren’t you hot?” yes, yes, yes.
“joshua, why don’t you take it off?” no no no i can’t i can’t eomma told me to cover up or i’ll scare the camp kids away. eomma told me they’ll see me as a monster if i show them.

“cover your bruises,” eomma whispers to me, “don’t let them define you.”

7.

6.

5. in kindergarten they ask us what we want to be when we grow up. i say, little hand in the air, “like appa! like dad!”

4.

3. i don’t remember but my mother has it on tape. my third birthday. little me, birthday hat skewed on my ruffled hair, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf at the candles. my mother, cooing at us. my father, smiling down at me like i was worth his entire world.

2.

1. my mother says they used to kiss, hug, hold hands. i don’t remember it at all.

0. my parents eloped. hid. crawled through shadows to get married and have a child. moved an entire continent, put their old lives an entire sea behind for each other. maybe when my mother was pregnant with me, she had a hope. she hoped that her son wouldn’t have to hide, run, crouch in darkness. she hoped that her son could live a life out in the open, with pain unknown to him. maybe she hoped i could be happy.

maybe she hoped my body wouldn’t be an animal i am repulsed by. maybe she hoped i wouldn’t know the patterns of scars, the criss-cross leaf veins. the sting of palms that leave imprints, the familiarity of blood.

maybe she hoped they could provide that future for me. a glimmering future. an unrealistic future. maybe that’s why she covers up her scars, hides her bruises, wears red-rimmed eyes like makeup.

maybe that’s why this family is like this.

we can only be what we cover up.

[FILL] everyone blooms in their own time

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: (platonic?) vershua
Major Tags:
Additional Tags: texting fic
Permission to remix: Yes

the difference between being korean-american and korean + american

***

We’re older than we used to be
This town holds no more to see

Joshua listens to the song on the way to the studio, his airpods shoved in his ears wrong. They don't fit, actually, but it would be super inconvenient to change them or, like, resize them? Joshua isn't sure and he doesn't care. His ears will probably adjust.

Hansol sent him this song as inspiration. They're trying to write another English song, and Joshua honestly had no idea what to write. He sort of never does. There's so many talented people in Seventeen, he can kind of get away with never writing a single lyric.

Hansol was saying he wanted to do a pop-punk style, something like Avril Lavigne meets All Time Low. Joshua sent him a Reliant K song and expected to cringe at Hansol pretending to like it, but Hansol genuinely enjoyed it.

Joshua doesn't know how to tell Hansol how useless he's going to be when it comes to lyric writing. So he prepares as hard as he can, listening to everything Hansol sends his way.

i like it

yeah?

it's got good lyrics

what did u like

uh

"this town holds no more to see"

word ya

tons of music frm this genre talks about like

hometowns n shit. upbringing n origin and all that

i like it

reminds me of growing up

Joshua doesn't know how to talk to Hansol about this. They're grouped together because they're both American, but it's different and Joshua doesn't know how to explain it.

It's how Joshua came to Korea with a clumsy tongue, it's the way sometimes Hansol's teeth get in the way of his English consonants, it's the way Joshua knew Big Bang and Hansol knew Epik High. It's the way Joshua looked for community in every room, counting the heads and hoping for people who looked like him. It's about how Hansol never saw anyone who looked like him.

So they're both Korean-American, on paper. With a lot of asterisks.

Hansol doesn't talk about his own shit much. Doesn't mention the way he grew up, the way he had a limb in every box they tried to put him in. He used to say more, but not to Joshua. Never to Joshua.

Joshua wonders why that is.

Maybe on paper they have a lot in common, but Joshua is jealous in a way he can't explain. Hansol is mainland; they really cared about shit like that at their church--who was going back to Korea, who had family there still, who knew the language.

Does it matter what you look like, or what you sound like? Joshua doesn't know. They feel like stupid questions, and he would be mortified to even ask Hansol about any of this.

So he'll take it, on paper. Sure. He doesn't mind that they're grouped together, because it's Hansol, the sweet kid who helped him with his spelling and told him where to move, how to say how he felt.

All his emotions are in Hansol's words now.

Joshua still doesn't talk to his mom in Korean when he calls her. It doesn't feel right.

He talks to Hansol in Korean. He hopes it feels right to him, too.

we could write a song about that

we could