Status: Closed
This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.
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
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in love with the villain
Major Tags: magical realism, fantasy, sci fi, superheroes, any really
Additional Tags: none
Do Not Wants: major character death (resurrections/fake deaths ok)
Prompt:
[FILL] in love with the villain
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: supernatural, magic realism, first loves, pining
Permission to remix: Please ask
A/N: This is set in the Philippines with very Filipino references since I've always wanted to try and incorporate fiction and my own culture in my work. Also, Sidapa = god of death according to Bicolano and/or Visayan belief.
This isn't meant to be an accurate representation and there is little to no correlation or history between Sidapa and Bulan's mythological love story.
But, what the hell this is fanfic anyways :)
***
There's a space in between a brightly lit convenience store and a boutique bursting with odds and ends—new and old, broken and pieced together—that smells like someone was burning incense for every hour of the day.
Blink and you'd miss it.
But if you pay attention, pause for a second and stand in between the liminal space of past and present, look past the crowds and steel buildings that mimic the teeth of a primordial beast stretching its jaw towards the heavens, you'd see it.
It's barely anything but a modest door and an unassuming store front with the curtains drawn. No sign.
Soonyoung doesn't need a sign.
Not since he was 11 and could commute amongst the hustle and bustle of the city with a five-peso fare and a Good Morning towel slapped on his back, the scent of Nenuco still clinging to his skin.
Almost seven years later, Soonyoung still rides the same tricycle route past the road-side barbeque stalls with the scent of burning sugar clinging to his school uniform, then to the barely-passable street corners teeming with vendors selling fried bananas and quail eggs until the alleys open to the main road and Soonyoung hands Manong Eli a ten-peso coin.
"Ingat, bata." Manong Eli calls after him, fatherly concern written in his face even if they had been companions in the weekly runs Soonyoung has to take after school.
Reminds him to be home before dark.
Soonyoung nods respectfully before bidding the older man good bye, hiking up the worn Jansport bag in one shoulder carefully while getting off the tricycle.
The bag feels heavier but Soonyoung doesn't mind.
He walks a couple of steps from where he got off, hand-me-down Converse sneakers kissing the bumpy ground until he reaches a nondescript convenience store and contemplates for a second if he should entertain his thirst.
But, business was business and Soonyoung doesn't want to be late.
He hears wind chimes when he pushes open the door despite the absence of the decor but he barely pays it any mind, focused on walking towards the simple table situated at the middle of the room with two rattan chairs facing each other.
There's a single light source illuminating the room and it flickers on and off for a few seconds after Soonyoung had flipped the switch.
There are no other items in the room besides the table, chair, and a water dispenser. It looks like a scene where kidnapped-victims are kept but criminals are the least of Soonyoung's problems.
There were far more greater things than human beings filled with greed.
He takes a seat on the chair in front of the table and grabs his phone from his pockets before placing the bag on the desk, kicking his feet up so it rests on the table.
Soonyoung aimlessly scrolls through social media for a while as he waits.
He's a few minutes early than usual but he doesn't mind, at least he could spend some moments of quiet before he has to go back home where he could hear the neighbor's quarrels from his opened windows.
He's half-way through watching a boomerang of Seokmin shoveling a piece of green mango on his mouth that seemed to be dipped in an alarming amount of spicy sauce (courtesy to the cackling Jeonghan at the right side of the frame) when he feels the shift in the air.
"Having fun?"
A deep voice fills the room and it seems to be coming from everywhere but when Soonyoung finally looks up from his phone, he sees a tall figure standing infront of him.
Embarrassment colors his cheeks as he hastily removes his feet from its perch, pocketing his phone and standing up in attention.
He was usually better in recognizing when they paid him visits. But Soonyoung just took a four-hour test before coming here, so his brain is probably still disconnected from the rest of his body.
Nevertheless, he apologizes.
"Hmm." The figure hums, a lilt in his tone as if Soonyoung amused him and the younger wouldn't put it past them.
Soonyoung doesn't comment any further, simply just stands there with his hands at his side and hoping his clothes aren't too wrinkled (or his hair, fuck he forgot to put hair gel on!)
"How many?"
Finally, Soonyoung sees his face.
"Fifteen." He answers, curt.
The sound of fabric being drawn is heard and under the harsh hue of the fluorescent light, his features look even more ghastly.
"That's good." It's not.
Soonyoung can see the frown marring his features but Wonwoo has never chastised him for his work (or the lack thereof). Not even once, not even when Soonyoung was a trembling thirteen year old with clumsy hands that dropped the strands of hair on the dusty sidewalk and lost three.
Not even when Soonyoung was late or when he brought nothing at all.
Soonyoung takes it as his cue to grab the bundle from inside his bag and he tries to discreetly observe Wonwoo's movements, even when the god barely moves from his seat.
In front of him Wonwoo is wearing his usual ensemble: a tailored suit that seemed to be made from the night sky itself with how black the fabric was and a single metal chain that ran diagonally across his torso.
Wonwoo wears no other accessory save for the silver band glinting on his left ring finger.
Soonyoung looks away.
He retrieves the Ziploc bag and places it on the table, strands of hair glinting under the artificial lights with a somber glow.
Here's the thing about collecting souls for the god of death.
One, questions were forbidden and Soonyoung just has to do his job of plucking the silver and invisible strands of hair from people's heads before they died to guarantee their passage into Wonwoo's realm; two, interactions must be kept brief and short (no explanation needed for this one when your boss is the same guy who will reap your soul one day); and three Soonyoung should absolutely not have a crush on him.
(He does.)
It took him a little over a few years to decipher that the rush he felt when Wonwoo visited to collect the souls was because Soonyoung was excited to meet him. The disappointment he felt when Wonwoo left turned into longing.
It seems a little fucked up and his Lola would probably send him to the nearest folk healer to cast these thoughts out of him if she found out. But it seemed like Soonyoung's secret was solely his, for the time being.
"Thank you, Soonyoung." Wonwoo deep voice rumbles and it sends a little flutter of something in Soonyoung's chest.
"You're welcome." Soonyoung replies, keeping his voice level because Wonwoo just had to be unfairly handsome and Soonyoung just had to be a teenage boy with hormones all over the place.
Soonyoung wonders what it would be like to kiss Wonwoo. Wonders if he'd take the lead, wonders if it would feel like what he sees in the nighttime telenovelas he sometimes sees his Mom watching.
(He hasn't kissed anyone.
Soonyoung wishes his first would be Wonwoo.)
"Magandang gabi, Soonyoung." Wonwoo bids him good night before he leaves, like always.
There's barely anything to make out of their conversations even if Soonyoung has had years of it. Wonwoo doesn't ask Soonyoung about anything, not even that one time he came with blood on his collar and a gash on his chin, not even when he was soaking wet, not even when he was sullen and crying.
But there was something in the limitedness that drew Soonyoung in, that thrilled him.
How could he catch Wonwoo's eye for a second, enough for Soonyoung to get his fill?
What would it feel like to hold an executioner's hand?
Companionship is the longest love confession and Soonyoung has years of them written in this room.
But that's the problem isn't it? Soonyoung can only have Wonwoo—parts of Wonwoo—when he's in this room, can only have the god's undivided attention when he's hand-delivering souls to his palm and trying not to stare too much at the silver on his finger.
They said the god of death had a lover, once. The old folks didn't like talking about it, in fear of attracting bad luck or the wrath of Sidapa. But, Manong Eli told him about a moon diety named Bulan and how Sidapa fought other gods to win his hand.
They were quite the love story, supposedly. Until Bulan mysteriously disappeared 18 years ago from their home in Mount Madjaas.
"Magandang gabi rin, Sidapa." Soonyoung bids him, throat tight but voice level as he gathers his things from the table and prepares to leave.
In just a few seconds, he will lose Wonwoo again.
"Mag-ingat sa paguwi." Wonwoo calls as Soonyoung turns around, reminding the younger to take care as he makes his trip home.
It's funny how the same words feel different and the concern makes Soonyoung blush.
Soonyoung nods, feet moving towards the exit but his mind runs with different excuses. Anything he can latch on to so he doesn't leave this room, just yet.
"When do I die?"
A sharp intake of breath.
"You know I cannot answer that, Soonyoung."
This conversation had long been overdue ever since Soonyoung learnt that he came from a very long and ancient line of soul reapers. But he supposes being in direct contact with the god of death has quelled his fears and anxiety about dying.
At least he knows there's something out there when he leaves this world.
(And he doesn't mind, not when that something is Wonwoo.)
"I'm sorry, I asked." Soonyoung bites his lip, shame and embarrassment creeping in.
How juvenile.
"It's alright," Wonwoo's voice is gentle and even if he's at the other end of the room, Soonyoung can hear his voice as if he's whispering it right into his ear. "I suppose that question has to crop up one of these days. I'm just surprised it took you this long."
A pause, "Others had always been anxious after finding out they're soul reapers."
"Well," Soonyoung turns to Wonwoo who's standing behind the desk, hands clasped behind him. There's a careful look in the god's eyes.
"I suppose there's nothing to fear when you know what happens when you die, huh?"
Wonwoo's eyebrow twitches briefly.
"I mean," Soonyoung scrambles for his words, worried that he might have offended the god with his boldness. "I mean, at least I know you'll be the one collecting my soul?"
He tries to give Wonwoo an assuring smile because truthfully, Soonyoung isn't scared of the inevitability that Wonwoo would take his soul one day.
Being raised in a home that believed in engkantos and gods that turn the tide has long since desensitized Soonyoung with the supernatural. Death wasn't the end, it was the beginning of a new life and they celebrated it.
Maybe falling in love with the god of death isn't as earth-shattering as it should be.
There's a complicated look on Wonwoo's face and it makes the nerves in Soonyoung sky rocket. The god had never been mad at him before, but there was always a first for everything.
"Forget I said, anything!" Soonyoung squeaks when Wonwoo's expression still doesn't change, "I'm so sorry, that was stupid—"
Click.
"Fuck, the lights—"
Soonyoung feels the barest hint of pressure descend upon him but when he opens his eyes, the lights are back to its harsh glow and Wonwoo is gone.
The god of death, surprisingly tastes human.
***
Thank you for your prompt, it made me very feel excited! I hope I did it justice <3
I'm
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain
I loved LOVED this so much. You filled a craving for fics with Philippine mythology that I forgot I needed. This was excellent, thank you so much!!!!!! Ingat lagi!!!!
Re: [FILL] in love with the villain