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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- Reply to the original prompt;
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- Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
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out of the woods
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: optional: supernatural elements, the relationship between violence and tenderness
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
&
[FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: weird strange magical realism, obsession with teeth, strange supernatural elements, paranormal happenings and investigations, hansol vernon chwe is Not Human in this one
Permission to remix: yes
wc: 606
going for [five of a kind] (AUs)
this was very fun to keep purposefully vague so really it is up to u to decide what vernon is in this one
***
There exists something inside Hansol that should not be touched. Minghao caught a glimpse of it once. It was all teeth, wide and gaping.
They both stood in the shadows. One street lamp flickered desperately in the dead of night, as if it could sense what was hanging in the air. Evil was always more potent in the dark.
Hansol had wiped his mouth with a sleeve and it came away red. “Sorry,” he said, sheepish, in that way of his, eyes wide and full of expression. But Minghao could not tell what he was sorry for — being seen or being caught. There was a difference, however small. Being seen meant to be exposed, to leave your body out in the open so that someone could know every inch of you and still make their way forward. Being caught meant to be caged — you did something you shouldn’t have. You are not what you say you are.
Minghao thinks it the latter.
Hansol Vernon Chwe is not human.
Not completely, at least.
///
“Hansol-ah has always been a little different,” Mingyu says placatingly when Minghao tries to bring it up. “Remember when he walked into the door because he was so focused on whatever he was holding?”
“No,” Minghao is impatient. Mingyu isn’t listening. Not in the way that matters. “I know what I saw.”
“What,” Mingyu frowns, tilting his head sideways. “Aren’t people supposed to have teeth?”
Minghao swallows his frustrations down and thinks: No, not like this.
///
Minghao tests the waters.
He follows Hansol around, desperate to catch a glimpse of the thing inside. There is a sense of foreboding that tickles the back of Minghao’s throat, but a sense of thrill too, electric in its forbiddenness. A grotesque fascination with the unknown, this sudden desire to keep unraveling the chain to see how far it will go. Pull back skin and find a monster.
He watches as Hansol leaves the hagwon, the hood of his sweater hiked up around his ears. Hansol might be weird but he does all of the things regular students do. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But Minghao is patient. When the sun has fled the sky, Hansol begins his trek home. He skirts in and out of alleyways, kicking at random rocks and pebbles, humming peculiar tunes.
A cat meows twice. First out of curiosity. Then, in obvious distress. Horror flickers briefly, in Minghao’s mind. He should not be here. He should have left Hansol alone. Some things do not have to be witnessed to know their terror.
One moment Hansol is there and the next he is not. He is replaced by some thing, some monstrous creature that swallows and consumes and does not look back.
It happens too fast for Minghao to be sure. It happens fast enough that Minghao can be sure. There is a sickening crunching noise that will haunt his dreams for the next nights to come.
And then Hansol returns, whistling, jamming his hands back into his pockets. As if nothing unholy had happened in the first place.
The street remains eerily silent after that.
///
“What’re you thinking about?” Hansol says to the air one day. He looks exactly at the spot where Minghao is hiding. Unblinking. Unnerving. Like he knew this entire time. It sends a jolt down Minghao’s spine. He shuffles out, ears turning red with the shame at being caught.
“Your teeth,” Minghao blurts out without thinking.
Hansol smiles before opening his mouth. “Which ones?”
Minghao sees canines all the way down.
See, he thinks bleakly. I was right.
He closes his eyes and waits for Hansol’s touch.
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
(Anonymous) 2021-12-28 04:33 pm (UTC)(link)Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Hansol smiles before opening his mouth. “Which ones?” / Minghao sees canines all the way down. im Barking
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
Re: [FILL] my, what beautiful teeth you have
[REMIX] when i put my teeth to her wrist, the world goes everywhere white
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: twisted little lee seokmin, manipulation, vaguely supernatural and dark, vernon is definitely not human but what about seokmin hmm
Permission to remix:Yes
A/N: karina i love your fill and its atmosphere and the whole vibe so so much but the idea of there being a third witness, orchestrator what you will to this has been plaguing me for a weeks and i wrote this in a sudden fit in like 20 minutes so its gonna be super vague and seokmin-centric, i hope you find it okay nonetheless!! ily!!
-natalie diaz title because klav prompt
-going for 5/5 remixes as well as rarest pair (no works in the tag)
***
It’s not a coincidence the first time Seokmin meets Hansol, nor the second. It is played to perfection so no one knows any better but it isn’t.
Hansol believes he’s rough around edges, says ‘I stick out like a sore thumb’ more times than Seokmin can remember and Seokmin knows already, by the third time they both pretend to sip at their coffee, that he’s never going to find anyone more perfect, more malleable for what he needs.
See, Seokmin knows what makes a monster useful and it isn’t the fangs he wields so poorly he’s leaving a trail of carcasses behind him wherever he goes—that’s what makes him so terribly easy to trace that first time, after all. The fangs you can fake. It’s the torment Seokmin thrives on.
When Hansol hates the very fact of his own existence, rues the day he was found, hungry and more hungry and then again and again until he’d grown himself something sharper than his blood and thicker than his skin—when Hansol cries for the third time in a week, the flesh behind him still warm under the moonlight, who else but Seokmin will hold him in his arms and whisper promises of hope and sunlight, who else will kiss his already healing wounds, but with bite, as if to say a monster can be a beautiful thing to be.
For every time Hansol has broken himself, Seokmin rebuilds him and when Seokmin finally pushes past the parting of his lips to sink in, it is Hansol who is surprised to find that Seokmin isn’t only the parts of him bared open in the daylight.
It takes months and then some for Seokmin to plant Hansol where he wants him, an awkward misfit at an arts college where everyone is an awkward misfit and Hansol has Seokmin’s Minghao reeled in hook, line and sinker in no time—no one knows the ways of humans like Seokmin does and Seokmin knew the minute he first saw Minghao and willed a future into being that he wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone.
There is no impatience when Minghao starts following Hansol, not even Hansol falters in his role. The night Hansol reveals himself Minghao is wrapped up in an indigo shawl but there's only a flimsy shirt underneath it, the lines of his neck and his forearms bare to all creatures who dare to pass.
“What’re you thinking about?” says Hansol but Seokmin is the one who holds his breath.
The distance between the two of them reduces slowly but surely until there can be no mistake about what Xu Minghao is being permitted to see and only when they’re a mere hairsbreadth apart does Seokmin step out of the shadows.
Minghao will never know who finally pierced through his bubble and dragged sin from underneath his skin, a press of dark sharpness to his veins that unspooled every single melody sitting in a tangle of tape at his core. Minghao will never know what touched him: the teeth that everyone saw, the ones he knew he had seen correctly or something else altogether.
But it doesn’t matter now, does it?
Minghao’s been starved of touch just as long as Hansol’s been alone and Seokmin?
Seokmin always gets what he wants.
Re: [REMIX] when i put my teeth to her wrist, the world goes everywhere white
FIRST OFF SEOKMIN MINGHAO VERNON IS AMAZING i want more it is criminal i have never put two n two together but also fitting that u were the first (again, genius) to do so
SECOND: “ The fangs you can fake. It’s the torment Seokmin thrives on.” SCREEECHING. all thru out this piece u get this feel for seokmin as someone who is kind but keeps ulterior motives and is sharp beneath all of it, how kindness can be cruel and mean and vicious if used in the right way & it just tickled my brain so well #LETDKBEEVIL!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!
Re: [REMIX] when i put my teeth to her wrist, the world goes everywhere white
Re: [REMIX] when i put my teeth to her wrist, the world goes everywhere white
[Fill]: The Only Teeth I Have
Major Tags: Implied Death, Injury, Gore, Knives
Additional Tags: Spooky happenings in a forest, but this time there is snow, idk what is going on with Seokmin but he is Not Normal, is he a vampire? im the wrong person to ask
Permission to remix: Yes
400 words (heehee), Teen and Up
https://archiveofourown.org/works/36026935
[FILL] out of the woods
Major Tags: mentioned death of a parent, ambiguous reference to potential underage non-con, mentioned homophobia, mentioned child abuse, alcohol
Additional Tags: supernatural, teeth
Permission to remix: Yes
***
“Do you remember me?” The man at the bar asks.
“No,” Seungcheol says automatically, before he remembers that he’s not in Seoul, but in the small, cramped town he grew up in and before his swimming vision manages to focus on the man’s face: sharp eyes, sharp jaw, the cut of his nose under his glasses just like his father’s —
“Wonwoo-ah?” The word is wrung out from Seungcheol’s chest and when the man smiles a Wonwoo-smile and gives a small, Wonwoo-nod, Seungcheol gapes. “You —“
Went missing twelve years ago. Disappeared one night. Signs all over the town, a special vigil at school. Seungcheol remembers skipping dinner to wander through the town’s alleys or the forest paths, standing on tiptoes and looking under logs for clues at first, and then, after his brother laughed at him, for a body.
“Hyung,” Wonwoo says. His voice is deep. The last time Seungcheol had seen him, Wonwoo was a gangly thirteen year old, hair in his face, all elbow and knees. But it’s him. It’s Wonwoo’s face and Wonwoo’s glasses glinting with the soft, golden light of the bar. He looks exactly how Seungcheol had imagined he would look, sometimes, during the quiet nights in the city when the shadows are heavy and Seungcheol lays awake, listening to traffic and watching the glow of headlights slide over his ceiling.
“How?” It’s the wrong question. Seungcheol fumbles through the haze of soju for the right one. Wonwoo is beautiful. Glowing, Seungcheol thinks. As though wet.
Wonwoo’s smile dips. “You didn't know?”
Seungcheol shakes his head, leaning further over the waxy bar when his brain sloshes.
“I had wondered why you never came back.” Wonwoo smiles a small, shy smile that Seungcheol remembers too well and Seungcheol doesn’t have time to coordinate his limbs before he’s launching himself off the stool, pulling Wonwoo into a tight hug.
Or he tries to. His legs tangle and he ends up gripping Wonwoo for support as the floor sways, but Wonwoo only huffs, catching Seungcheol’s full weight. Wonwoo is taller than him, Seungcheol realizes, and strong, his arms holding Seungcheol steady as he struggles to remember how to stand.
The clench in Seungcheol’s throat tighten, suddenly. The pressure in his chest keeps building and building. It's been there, boiling since he got the call days ago, since he had to stand with gritted teeth at the vigil, since his brother had dragged him out the backdoor of the town’s small, bleached funeral hall
(If you don’t want to be here, Seungsu had growled, then just go.)
“I thought you were gone,” Seungcheol croaks. “Where were you?”
Wonwoo’s face doesn’t flicker. It remains still. Smooth. Like a rancid, forest pond. “I never forgot you, hyung,” Wonwoo answers instead, and now the dam inside of Seungcheol is crumbling, the pressure bursting.
Next thing Seungcheol knows is he’s outside and trying to catch a breath between sobs. His tear tracks chill in the night air and there’s a sledgehammer pounding in his skull. Wonwoo’s arms are still gripping him tight, keeping him steady with his back pressed against the cold brick of the bar.
“You’re fine,” Wonwoo is saying. He’s boxing Seungcheol in, face right above.
Seungcheol nods, trying to stop the sobs in his chest. Stupid, whispers the only voice in his head sober enough. Stop.
“It’s OK, hyung.” Wonwoo shifts Seungcheol so that he’s standing straighter. He’s larger than he should be, Seungcheol thinks. When they were kids, Wonwoo was a head shorter with sticks for arms. Now, he seems massive, as though taking up the night.
“I heard about your father,” Wonwoo says.
Seungcheol huffs. It shocks him out of a sob, and he takes a deep lungful of air, and then another.
“I’m sorry.”
Seungcheol drags the sleeve of his windbreaker across his face, smearing tears. He feels sick. Still drunk. The night is dark and the kind of cold that slices up his nose, up his skull. He had never thought that he’d get used to the eternal noise of the city, but here, the night feels hollow. There’s wind in some nearby trees. Figures move away, heads turned down. No stars in the sky.
“C’mon,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll take you home.”
—
It’s not until they’re stepping into the forest that it occurs to Seungcheol that home is the other direction. When he slurs as much, Wonwoo nods.
“I know where I’m going.”
Seungcheol looks at him. Really looks. The haze of alcohol has sharpened, but unreality has set in its place. The night is too quiet. Seungcheol’s footsteps too heavy. Wonwoo still has both arms on him, leading him as steadily as before.
“I looked for you,” Seungcheol says, watching Wonwoo’s face and not the trees.
“I know, hyung.”
“No.” Seungcheol grasps for words. This feels like a fever dream, as though the press of Wonwoo’s hands will evaporate and the trees will dissolve.
He need to tell him now, about the bruises on his knees where he had knelt on the bathroom floor and prayed himself to sleep. How he had shattered his mother’s porcelain figurine. How he had broken his hand punching Youngpyo in the face. The punishments, the blinding anger, the nightmares, the anxiety pills. How Wonwoo was one end, too many beginnings.
“I looked everywhere for you.”
Wonwoo smiles at him, tight-lipped, as though it’s a nice thing to say.
“I thought maybe it was your father,” Seungcheol says, tongue too loose. “I thought maybe he found out what we did.”
Wonwoo stops. There’s nothing but forest now, nothing but tall, black trees and Wonwoo’s face in shadow. “What we did?”
“What I did. To you.” Guilt bubbles up, sick and hot in Seungcheol’s gut. A secret he’s told no one but the bathroom tiles he used to press his face against. Fear and time have flayed the memories. Sometimes Seungcheol thinks it was nothing more than a kiss. A few touches, some presses. Other times he dreams himself holding Wonwoo down. Wonwoo stiff-faced with fear. Wonwoo would always do whatever Seungcheol had told him to do.
Something shifts behind Wonwoo’s glasses. He must have blinked. And then he moves, stepping in front of Seungcheol and filling up the night again. “What did you do?” he asks, words stripped bare. As though he forgot.
Seungcheol opens his mouth and chokes, a weak, squeezing sound that diffuses into the trees.
Wonwoo’s grip on Seungcheol tightens. He leans down, close enough for Seungcheol to make out his face in the dark. “This?” he asks. And then he kisses Seungcheol.
It’s not how Seungcheol had imagined it, sometimes, when he’s at his worst. Wonwoo is cold, his lips hard, and when his tongue slips into Seungcheol’s mouth it’s wet in a way that shocks Seungcheol back into his body. He lurches, but Wonwoo’s hands hold him fast and Seungcheol is just figuring the kiss out when Wonwoo pulls away. Seungcheol gasps. Fingers in Wonwoo’s coat. And then Wonwoo is leaning in again except his dead lips are pressing against the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth, and then his cheek, then his jaw, then he’s pulling Seungcheol in tighter, his mouth against Seungcheol’s neck. His lips spread open. Seungcheol chokes, fear sudden, and then there’s the sharp press of teeth, biting down enough for Seungcheol’s toes to curl but there are too many, too large of a mouth and too many rows, and for one moment Seungcheol knows that his skin is going to rip, the meat of his throat torn away, hot blood on a cold night —
The teeth let up and when Wonwoo pulls away, he has his Wonwoo face. Still and human. Seungcheol stares, heart thundering. Wonwoo looks at Seungcheol as though Seungcheol should understand, and then lets go.
Seungcheol sags as Wonwoo steps away. A moment where Seungcheol’s gasping breath is the only sound in the forest.
“We’re almost there,” Wonwoo says, and then he begins to move away, into the shadow of the trees, with one trailing glance telling Seungcheol that he should follow.
—
The trees stretch on. The ground slopes down and Seungcheol grips tree trunks as he follows Wonwoo, raw skin against bark, legs wobbly and weak. The alcohol is gone. Nothing left, but a dream. An endless forest. An encasing silence. Wonwoo’s back in front of Seungcheol, faceless and still.
Later, Seungcheol won’t remember how long they walked. He’ll remember the exhaustion, the bite of the cold, the crunch of leaves underfoot. He’ll remember that it felt right, following Wonwoo, after all these years, and that he hadn’t been afraid.
It’s not until he hears the rush of traffic, that the dream breaks.
Seungcheol stops in his tracks. They’re near the base of the hill, the ground sloping down to meet the base of two other craggy hills. Above and to the right is a bridge, with towering cement legs. High above, a car hums by, and he realizes where he is.
A unnamed hollow in the forest. Stories of ghosts, chemicals, feral dogs. Seungcheol remembers his halmeoni, shaking with rage in the doorway of the kitchen. They don’t know what they’re doing, building a highway there, she had spat. Fools..
Ahead, Wonwoo stops. He turns back. It’s dark enough that there’s nothing but blurred edges. Formless shapes of trees.
“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks.
“I can’t —” Seungcheol tries. The words catch. His heart is thundering, ribs constricting. His body is too large, his head too light.
Wonwoo takes a step forward and then another and nothing has changed, but Wonwoo is something else now. Seungcheol thinks of the strength of Wonwoo’s hands, of the heady rush of the kiss, the press of teeth against his neck.
“I thought you said you wanted to come,” Wonwoo says, his voice as flat as before.
Seungcheol can’t answer and he can’t breathe, drowning until Wonwoo’s voice breaks the silence again.
“OK,” Wonwoo says. A shuffle against the leaves, Wonwoo’s shadow moving in the darkness. A pause. “You should come find me someday,” he says, hesitantly. Another moment, and then he’s walking away, footsteps slowly smothered by the trees.
Another car hums by above. The only sound in the dead forest. Seungcheol stands at the edge, staring in. As though he’s still fourteen years old and looking for a body.
Re: [FILL] out of the woods
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!!
Re: [FILL] out of the woods
and then “What I did. To you.” Guilt bubbles up, sick and hot in Seungcheol’s gut. A secret he’s told no one but the bathroom tiles he used to press his face against. Fear and time have flayed the memories. Sometimes Seungcheol thinks it was nothing more than a kiss. A few touches, some presses. Other times he dreams himself holding Wonwoo down. Wonwoo stiff-faced with fear. Wonwoo would always do whatever Seungcheol had told him to do. this entire paragraph made me want to crawl out of my own skin oh my god it's SO unpleasant, the ambiguity about what actually happened -- whether seungcheol really did something wrong back then or if his anxiety has twisted it into something it wasn't. that combined with the other mentions of seungcheol's childhood really made something cold settle in my gut as i read, the mundanity of his horrible memories combined with the supernatural terror of whatever wonwoo is. i think the best way to write something really chilling and horrifying is to leave as much unspoken as stated, and you did SUCH a good job with that here. you're always so good at characters and mood and this was definitely a solid example of that. thank you so much for sharing this with us!!!
Re: [FILL] out of the woods
the lingering dread in this is very distinct, especially with seungcheol apologizing for what he "did" to wonwoo, coupled with the implications of his father... hoo boy. the ending with wonwoo telling cheol to come find him T__T OUT IN THE WOODS!!!
Re: [FILL] out of the woods
Glowing, Seungcheol thinks. As though wet.
there's something so subtly chilling about it i'm obsessed. i'm gonna be thinking about the ending for ages. i loved this!!
[REMIX] pov switch: you're in the rancid, forest pond
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: you ever read a line and it makes you pick up a pencil for the first time in five years? yeah.
Permission to remix: yes
***
remix