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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- NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview.
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Prompting
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Filling
- Reply to the original prompt;
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Remixing
- Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
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repressed gay ppl 👎
Major Tags: yearning pining etc
Additional Tags: nonverbal confessions, sharing a bed, sharing a meal
Do Not Wants: death
Prompt:
[FILL] a thousand roots, growing
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: verkwan jeju trip, vague plant (???) metaphors, flashbacks, the simultaneous recognizing and repressing of feelings!!!!
Permission to remix: pls ask!
***
At Jeju, when they visit Seungkwan’s home, they share a bed.
“Sorry,” Seungkwan apologizes, mouth pursing when he looks over the twin-sized bed. It’ll be a tight squeeze for two of them. Seungkwan’s room is cluttered, but well taken care of. Relics of the young Seungkwan’s life in girl group posters and abandoned notebooks. Hansol likes it. “I should’ve realized…”
“It’s cool,” Hansol says. Brushing the concern aside.
They’ve shared a bed before, the two of them. Countless times.
No big deal, Hansol thinks.
–
Hansol’s bed doesn’t smell right. He is fourteen, alone in the dorm, too anxious to sleep, and his bed doesn’t smell right. His mom uses a specific detergent, clean and floral. Comforting.
There is none of that comfort here. To his horror, tears start to drip from his eyes. He wipes at his face furiously, but they persist, falling fast until he has to cover his mouth to muffle his sobs.
You said you could handle it, staying here, leaving home, what are you doing -
“Hansol?”
Seungkwan’s voice is so bright, even as a whisper, breaking through the miserable cloud shrouding Hansol. A sunbeam, at two in the morning, sitting up in the bed across from Hansol’s. “Are you crying?”
“Can you come here?” his whispers wetly.
The shuffle of sheets, the patter of footsteps, and Seungkwan is slipping in beside him. Hansol sniffles, and Seungkwan’s arms are around him. Knowing what Hansol needs before he asks.
Hansol falls asleep, lulled by Seungkwan’s heartbeat.
–
“I know we pulled straws, but you can room with Seungkwan if you want,” Soonyoung offers. Hansol’s stomach turns inside out. “I can talk to hyung - “
“No,” Hansol clears his throat. “No, it’s okay. It’s cool.”
Soonyoung tilts his head in confusion but Hansol puts his earphones in before he can push the issue. He knows Soonyoung is being nice, but it’s for the best. Really. Even though Seungkwan had pouted, full of disappointment, “why can’t we pick our roommates hyuuuuung?” Hansol had forced a laugh at his silliness, and everyone else laughed along with him.
But. He can’t. He can’t. If Seungkwan is right across from him, in the same room, Hansol doesn’t think he’ll be strong enough to resist him.
They keep growing, the two of them. Hansol, more like a weed, while Seungkwan blooms, the tallest sunflower in the field. They keep growing, and so does this thing in Hansol’s chest. Sprouted from the minute Seungkwan smiled at him for the first time.
–
Dinner is just the two of them. Seungkwan’s mom serves them, cooking all of Seungkwan’s old favorites, before leaving them alone with a smile that makes Hansol’s skin flush. Any paranoid thoughts disappear with the spoonful of marinated crab Seungkwan shoves in his mouth.
“Haaa, this is so good!”
“Isn’t it?” Seungkwan watches him eat with sparkling eyes. Grin stretching further and further with every compliment that spills out of Hansol’s mouth. Hansol eats until he’s bursting, wanting to bask in Seungkwan’s happiness for as long as possible. “I’ll make a Jeju boy out of you,” Seungkwan laughs when they’ve cleared the table.
Please, Hansol does not say. Does not beg.
–
When he was too young to name the thing in his chest, Hansol used to cling to Seungkwan as freely as Seungkwan clings to him now. Uncaring of the hyungs’ giggles and side-eyes.
When he’s older, the first time he tries to name the floaty, tickling sensation that comes around every time he hears Seungkwan sings, he shuts down. Suddenly painfully aware of the eyes on them and unable to bear the weight.
He can’t. He can’t. It’s easier to push Seungkwan away. Tries to stamp down the growth, but it’s ivy, it’s moss, spreading no matter how much Hansol snips away at it. Rejecting Seungkwan’s invitations, avoiding his hands. Looking away from his sad eyes.
Still, no matter what he does, Seungkwan continues to water it. Unknowingly, unflinchingly. Keeping it strong. Steadfast with his love.
–
“Aren’t you too tall? Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan grumbles as he tries to get comfortable. Hansol is flat on his back, eyes closed, trying to ignore Seungkwan’s warm body squirming next to him.
“Sleep like a normal person,” Hansol murmurs. He’s warm too, belly full from dinner. A weird feeling, for his muscles to be so relaxed while his brain is buzzing. He doesn’t react when Seungkwan settles on curling on his side, chin resting on Hansol’s shoulder.
“You’re sleeping like a starfish,” Seungkwan snickers, poking Hansol’s cheek. “Shall I tell you a bedtime story, Hansollie?”
“Mm.” Hansol tries to keep his eyes closed but he can’t resist. He opens them, watching Seungkwan gesture wildly as he recounts some silly tale from his school days. Hansol stares, the way he always does, because when it’s Seungkwan, there’s no looking away.
At one point, Seungkwan laughs at his own joke, head thrown back, incandescent in his glee, and Hansol can feel it again. He feels it all the time; in his fingers that itch to reach out, in his throat demanding him to speak. It’s spread, growing into his veins, soaked in his blood.
He exhales.
Seungkwan notices him staring. “Sol-ah, did you say something?”
Hansol caves. He turns on his side too, so that they’re facing each other. Wordlessly, he extends his hand and Seungkwan takes it, smile softening into tenderness. Hansol never wants to leave this bed. They could make a home here, just the two of them. He wants to open his mouth, and let the tangled overgrowth pass from between his lungs, into Seungkwan’s.
“We can sleep like this,” Seungkwan says drowsily, eyes slipping shut. “Holding… hands…”
Hansol watches Seungkwan fall asleep. They’re close enough that he can feel the warmth of Seungkwan’s breath on his cheek. His hand still curled in Hansol’s.
Hansol lies there, emptying every word he does not say in the silent space between them. Impossibly wishing that Seungkwan will wake in the morning, knowing it all.
Re: [FILL] a thousand roots, growing
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Re: [FILL] a thousand roots, growing
(Anonymous) 2021-12-29 09:12 am (UTC)(link)Re: [FILL] a thousand roots, growing
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this
this, this, fill,
this FILL!!!!!!
i
i have nothing more to say
Re: [FILL] a thousand roots, growing
[FILL] letters from medea
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: having a crush so intense it makes u wanna eat glass, wonwoo laughing as a fear response because he's my bestie
Permission to remix: Yes
*** op sorry i kinda freestyled the sharing a bed/meal tag ***
wonwoo’s deep sarcastic ha ha ha reaches the hallway, rounding off into genuine laughter when seokmin reaches the dining area. there’s a hush when he walks in, but it’s broken by jihoon wheezing, bent over his knees.
"what's up," he says, mostly to jihoon. he adds his overfull plastic bag of kimbap to the table, already littered with half-eaten snacks. the members descend on the newly arrived food unprompted.
jihoon waves his hands, dismissive. seokmin turns to junhui, patting jihoon's back. junhui shrugs, but seokmin can't ever tell when junhui is hiding something or genuinely clueless.
"wonwoo-hyung said something funny," mingyu says, taking a big bite of his kimbap and successfully disappearing half of it.
the members are sprawled all over, on the floor, on the kitchen counter—seokmin doesn't even pretend the seat next to wonwoo on the table isn't the most appealing. he takes it, getting his own roll, nudging wonwoo's shoulder with his own.
"spill then."
wonwoo visibly schools his face into a deadpan. "you snooze, you lose."
seokmin makes a face at him.
"i was getting food," he tries.
"so was everyone else," chan quips, prone, seungkwan on top of him using him as a floor mat. seokmin glares at the kimbap they're passing back and forth.
"what was it," seokmin nudges wonwoo again.
he can tell wonwoo is close to smiling and knows it's only because in a group of thirteen people constantly in each other's pockets, it's absolutely hilarious holding out essentially non-essential information.
wonwoo is doing the thing where his whole face is collapsing in on itself, holding back a laugh.
does he know? seokmin wonders. half of him doesn't really care if they make jokes at his expense, doesn't care what they were talking about because if it was important or serious they wouldn't hide it. half of him is bothered that he missed something that made wonwoo so much as smile.
"well, i was just saying how wonwoo-hyung looks so happy recently," seungkwan says, in usual seungkwan fashion: eyebrow raised, tone judging. “bubbly, even. it’s cute, but i keep getting whiplash.”
jihoon is shaking his head again, not disagreeing, more incredulous.
has wonwoo been happy recently?
seokmin searches through recent memory. for all his creepy wonwoo-watching, he's having a hard time recalling changes in wonwoo’s demeanor; wonwoo has always been wonwoo. he presses his mouth shut out of fear that he’ll blurt out something desperate, like, what’s making wonwoo happy? who? when did it happen? and–
he’s squeezing the kimbap. a slice of burdock has escaped to the top.
wonwoo plucks the kimbap off his hand and takes a bite, eyes dancing. seokmin feels silly, like his shoes are too big, and wonwoo knows and is just too nice to call him out on it. he’s never wanted to hide and be seen so greatly in equal measure.
“eat,” wonwoo tells him, pressing the kimbap to his mouth.
he does as he’s told, distracted. wonwoo’s lips are shiny. he thinks wonwoo will taste like laver and sesame oil. he wants to know if he's right.
“anyway,” seungkwan carries on like he didn’t lowkey pull out the rug from under seokmin’s feet. seokmin fought for his life for an entire 5 seconds there. “time to go channie, get up. jeonghan-hyung asked us to get them coffee.”
jihoon is preparing to leave too, and junhui is already at the backdoor waiting for him.
“i thought we were all eating before practice?” seokmin asks, mouth full of rice.
“soonyoung called and said he needed help with something.” he gives wonwoo a very intent look and seokmin thinks wonwoo will leave with them but then jihoon just gives them both a pat on the shoulders and leaves.
mingyu reaches for another kimbap, winks. “for myungho.” and he goes too, looking smug. seokmin will make sure to tell myungho later that he’s the one who got the good kimbap, not mingyu.
wonwoo looks content enough to eat in silence. he takes a bite, passes it to seokmin, then takes it back. seokmin doesn’t have the heart to tell him there’s another one left in the plastic bag and they don’t have to share.
-
sometimes, when wonwoo laughs, he caves in on himself, eyes closed, nose scrunched, holding back his delight like it's a sneeze. sometimes, he doesn’t make a sound. he's an expert at making himself small, always folding in when he thinks he has no more to contribute to the conversation.
seokmin always wants more, wants to poke wonwoo with a needle so he pops, wants to catch everything that comes out.
everyone else is laughing, he thinks it was some scathing remark chan made towards the rest of them, and seokmin can feel it in the back of his throat and like an itch in his nose, and still nothing comes out. it's hilarious, what chan said, and he should be laughing, and it's weird that he isn't, but he's looking at wonwoo and—he can't explain it, but it’s one of those times when wonwoo is laughing like he is imploding and seokmin thinks he might flicker in and out of existence if he doesn't keep watching him.
his hand moves on its own. it lands on wonwoo's arm.
wonwoo turns to him mid-blink. when their eyes meet, seokmin feels important, like if wonwoo stops looking at him he will stop existing.
"dokyeom-ah, what is it?"
it should snap seokmin out of limbo, his stage name reminding him that they're on the clock, in front of cameras. they're not filming yet officially, yet everything is always recorded for a hundred different other series. he doesn’t remember the last time wonwoo called him by his real name, dokyeom sliding easier on the tongue.
dokyeom is a mirror; you get exactly what you give. dokyeom is a reservoir; he hoards love so he can give it away freely, easily, like party favors. thank you for being here.
seokmin isn’t always dokyeom. seokmin wants to shake wonwoo by the shoulders and beg. tell him i love you. love me, love me, love me.
his plea sits heavy on his chest. he tries for a nonchalant smile anyway.
"wonwoo-hyung is so cute."
wonwoo returns the smile, flustered and yet more honest than seokmin will ever be.
-
“dokyeom. seokmin-ah.”
seokmin blinks awake, chasing the feeling of a good dream, already fading.
“seokmin.”
it’s wonwoo, blanket pulled up to his chin, facing him. he looks concerned.
“sorry, was i talking too loud again?” he turns to his side towards wonwoo to not wake seungcheol on his other side.
“no,” wonwoo chews on his lip. he squints. “you said my name.”
seokmin feels cold from his scalp to his toes. “sorry,” he tries again, unsure how to explain. they all know he talks in his sleep. wonwoo doesn’t know seokmin dreams of him even awake. he doesn’t know what bled out.
he sits up. "i can go? i'm pretty sure there's space beside mingyu in the kitchen." he can't tell where his benevolence ends and where his urge to run away begins.
"that's not why i woke you."
"oh. is everything okay?"
wonwoo stands, holds out his hand. "i just wanted to talk, that's all."
seokmin takes it (how could he not).
wonwoo hasn't ever wanted to talk. he'll just ask if seokmin wants to eat, or sit next to him and stay while they do things, sometimes for hours without saying a word. they already spend most of the day with everyone else, so it's easy to just fall in together in brief respites.
they sit at the porch swing, bundled in blankets. seokmin can feel the cold seeping through his socks and worries. if seokmin can feel how cold it is, wonwoo must be freezing. at one point he scoots closer and puts his head on seokmin's shoulders but he doesn’t say anything.
“i want you to know if i go missing by tomorrow morning they will know it’s you because i made sure to step on seungcheol-hyung on the way out and i saw him open his eyes.”
wonwoo hums in response, and that’s enough. seokmin likes to imagine he can feel the warmth of a smile on his shoulder.
he doesn’t notice falling asleep, but he does, and he wakes again to wonwoo pinching the skin of his wrist lightly. he’s still leaning on him. the sky is turning pink.
wonwoo clears his throat.
“hyung?”
“you make me laugh. it feels very easy with you.”
“i’m glad,” seokmin says, truthfully. he feels deeply that any person who can laugh with him is meant to be his friend. he befriends people by making them laugh. the circle of life.
wonwoo removes himself from seokmin’s shoulder, shaking his head. “no, you have to know–” he takes seokmin’s hand and spreads his palm across his chest. his hand is freezing. seokmin wants to hide them both inside his sweater.
and then he realizes what wonwoo is showing him. his heartbeat, thunderous across several layers of clothing. loud, like he wasn’t just sleeping. it feels similar to when seokmin has had too many americanos and he is about to scream-giggle just to let out some energy, or like when they’ve been filming all day and the tension is high all around in anticipation of the trip home, of rest. it feels like something about to break.
“it’s terrifying.”
he grabs wonwoo’s sweater, stung.
“wonwoo-hyung.”
impossibly, wonwoo starts to shake, and seokmin almost panics, except–he’s laughing, quietly at first, then grows–eyes closed, head turned to the stars. he laughs so hard his entire body tips backwards. he takes seokmin with him, their hands still pressed over his chest. seokmin has to brace his other hand on wonwoo’s thigh. his palm burns.
seokmin is only human. and wonwoo is so beautiful.
he presses his lips to wonwoo’s throat.
the laughter dies out, glass over a flame, and seokmin stays there.
“wonwoo-hyung,” he says again, cold lips to warm skin. names are prayers, seokmin thinks.
“seokmin-ah,” wonwoo says, gently, chiding.
he cups seokmin’s neck with his other hand, thumb caressing the angle of seokmin’s jaw. if wonwoo applies even a little pressure he will pop and all his longing will spill and stain wonwoo’s hands.
instead, wonwoo kisses his neck.
-
Re: [FILL] letters from medea
favourite part was this:
dokyeom is a mirror; you get exactly what you give. dokyeom is a reservoir; he hoards love so he can give it away freely, easily, like party favors. thank you for being here.
seokmin isn’t always dokyeom. seokmin wants to shake wonwoo by the shoulders and beg. tell him i love you. love me, love me, love me.
LIKE?!??!?!! incredible
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