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
Rules
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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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You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection.
Remixing
- Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above;
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Art/media
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it's a banana duct-taped to a wall
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: humor
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
[FILL] 画蛇添足
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vaguely canonverse, projecting my personal pain onto wen junhui
Permission to remix: Yes
sorry op for hijacking your prompt part 2... not a single part of this fill relates to any other part of it
***
Junhui gets canker sores in his mouth often. Wo you shang huo le, he’ll whine to Minghao, opening his mouth up wide and jabbing at the puffy, inflamed insides of his oral cavity no matter how many times Minghao makes it clear it’s not a very pleasant sight to see. Little white pus-filled circles ringed around the edge in a vicious scarlet. Just looking at them makes the skin on the inside of Minghao’s cheeks sting a little.
Again? Minghao will ask, not even pretending to be surprised. Any old lady off the street back home could tell Junhui that it was because he eats too much spicy food, especially in Seoul’s more temperate climate. But Junhui never listens. It’s because my body constitution type is bad, is his perpetual excuse, to which Minghao can’t help but fire back with then stop eating things that don’t match with your body constitution!
Did he apply ointment to the sores? He did, but then he licked it off. Did he try eating more cold foods? He would, but he’s suddenly picked up an irrational fear of cucumbers. Did he at least try drinking chrysanthemum tea? He will if Minghao makes it for him.
This is how Minghao finds himself boiling tiny dried flowers in a strainer at two in the morning every other week, watching the petals slowly unfurl.
Last week, in the waiting room half an hour before their last music show performance before their promotions ended, Junhui had been playing a game on his phone with his legs stretched out to the other end of the couch and his head pillowed on one of Minghao’s thighs. Minghao had been resisting the urge to comb an aimless hand through Junhui’s already-styled hair and valiantly trudging through the Korean translation of a novel originally written in Chinese, pretending that he didn’t desperately want to switch to the original version instead.
Just as he was about to set the book down and pull up Taobao, Junhui let out a loud cry of despair. LEVEL FAILED was all Minghao could see on the screen before Junhui dropped it onto his stomach with a sigh. Then, without missing a beat, he looked up at Minghao and asked, “Why do you never bring me to museums with you?”
“Huh?”
“You always ask Wonwoo, or Hansol, or Mingyu to go with you,” Junhui pointed out. “But never me.”
Minghao hadn’t known what to say, at first, to what was an objectively correct observation. He finally settled on, “You wouldn’t like it.”
“You don’t know that,” said Junhui. “I could love it.”
But Minghao already knew he wouldn't. He’d do a very good job of pretending to, for Minghao’s sake, but he wouldn’t really enjoy it for himself.
Still, Minghao said, “Okay. I’ll ask you next time, then.”
---
“If you complain too much I’ll send you home early,” Minghao threatens. Jokingly.
“Promise I won’t,” says Junhui, holding his pinky out. Minghao completes the connection. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
This time it’s some contemporary abstract art museum he’d found on Instagram. He’d shown Mingyu the profile and Mingyu had laughed, eyes shooting open wide as he covered his mouth with his hand. “You’re taking Jun-hyung there?” he’d asked. “That’s like throwing him straight into hard mode.”
“Art is art,” Minghao had grumbled. He’d wanted to visit, and Junhui had wanted to come with him. So they’d both get what they wanted.
True to his word, Junhui doesn’t complain at all. He follows Minghao around obediently and takes a billion pictures on his phone and pulls Minghao into blurry selfies and reads all of the borderline incomprehensible descriptions on the wall and asks engaging questions like he really cares about what Minghao thinks about all of this art, all the way up until they’re about to exit the last exhibit. It’s a different experience from going with Wonwoo, who brings two lenses for his DSLR and takes discerning pictures with the quiet click of the shutter going off in the background, or Hansol, who bounces off Minghao’s comments with observations of his own, or Mingyu, who takes it all in quietly and then argues with Minghao about it on the way home, but Minghao finds he enjoys it all the same.
“What’s this one supposed to be?” asks Junhui, pointing at the last piece on the last wall.
Minghao loves art. He believes in the value of every piece, no matter how simple or silly it may seem. He always tries to scope out the artist’s meaning and intention, careful eyes picking out each careful detail, and thinks of his own personal connection to it.
But sometimes he has to admit that he truly doesn’t know.
“No clue,” he says, and laughs.
An hour later finds them at a restaurant they stumble across on the way back from the museum. After the hotpot goes cold enough for the oils to float to the top of the broth and Junhui wins the obligatory fight over the bill by slapping his card down on the plastic tray first and quickly ushering the waiter away before Minghao can even argue, Minghao slumps down into his side of the booth and rubs his belly, feeling the heat from the soup spread through his body. Junhui had wanted their spiciest mala broth, as usual. He’ll be complaining to Minghao about another canker sore soon.
“I like you a lot,” Minghao tells him. Junhui’s still drinking the broth like it’s water. “You know that, right?”
Junhui sets his bowl down to blink at him. “Are you saying this because I treated you?”
“Because you treated me? I was supposed to treat you!”
Junhui laughs. “I like having you in my debt, Xiao Hao.”
Minghao makes a face. “So I can make you more tea?”
Junhui laughs again. He rests his elbows on the table and cups his face in his hands, uncaring of the thin film of oil covering his palms. “Because I like you a lot too.”
“You didn’t have to come today,” Minghao says, feeling warm. He thinks about the color of sunlight seeping into freshly boiled water and dried, wrinkly petals turning sleek and soft once again.
“But did you like that I did?” asks Junhui.
The answer, surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—is yes. Minghao nods and receives a lazy, satisfied smile from Junhui in return. Mouth curled up at the edges like a cat out in the sun.
“Then I’m glad,” says Junhui. “I liked it a lot. It’s always fun hanging out with you, Xiao Hao.” He pauses. “Let’s go to a different place next time, though.”
Minghao barks out a surprised laugh and agrees. Next time, they’ll go somewhere else.
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
This time it’s some contemporary abstract art museum he’d found on Instagram. He’d shown Mingyu the profile and Mingyu had laughed, eyes shooting open wide as he covered his mouth with his hand. “You’re taking Jun-hyung there?” he’d asked. “That’s like throwing him straight into hard mode.”
-
Minghao loves art. He believes in the value of every piece, no matter how simple or silly it may seem. He always tries to scope out the artist’s meaning and intention, careful eyes picking out each careful detail, and thinks of his own personal connection to it.
But sometimes he has to admit that he truly doesn’t know.
-
This was so cute and humorous, and I love your writing style. The flow of the story and the dialogue were great. Thank you for writing this!
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
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Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
Rose x
Re: [FILL] 画蛇添足
[FILL] This shit is bananas (b a n a n a s)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: No banana's feelings were hurt in the making of this fic, humor, dumb dumb humor, halfway through the art gallery became an art museum uuuh
Permission to remix: Yes
A/N: Everything mentioned in this fic about this wall banana is true, unfortunately.
***
Jun is full of bad good ideas and good bad ideas. He is not sure which this one is yet. Highly depends on whether he comes out of this as single as he was a week ago.
See, he got himself a date which makes this a good idea but it's a date at an art museum which is a bad idea because he doesn't understand art. Like sure if a painting is pretty and has nice colors, it's pretty and has nice colors. He's not really sure about the paintings that are just a white canvas and a splotch of red that looks like someone spilled ketchup on a table. Even Minghao's, his roommate's, paintings are difficult to understand for him at times.
And that's paintings, not even….whatever this is.
He tries not to grimace looking at the human sized ragdoll on the floor of the museum. It's made of old rice sacks and stuffed with what looks like hay and newspaper. The face is drawn on like a toddler got hold of their parents' make up bag. Is it just him or do the eyes seem to be staring right at him?
"'The stuffed doll represents the oncoming second Great Depression.'" The deep voice fills the room despite its softness.
He turns to the man reading the plaque of the cordoned off rice sack rag doll. Jeon Wonwoo, his date, looks as handsome as ever. His glasses frame a sharp clean face and his tall frame is accentuated by his long beige coat. Jun still can't believe that after months of pining and maybe-not-so-lowkey stalking, he is finally on a date with his crush. Which is why he is in an art museuem. Admittedly he had panicked when he chose the venue. All he knew was that Wonwoo enjoyed museums (according to Minghao) and he guessed he probably enjoys art (he's a literature major and he's, uh, friends with Minghao? Maybe he should stop using Minghao as his sole source of Wonwoo information).
"I-I guess that makes sense," Jun agrees, nodding his head eagerly. It did not make sense to him.
"'The doll's wailing at randomly generated intervals shows the ignored cries of the lower class during this economic crisis,'" his date (heh) continues.
"Did you say waili- argh oh my god!" Jun screams as the doll suddenly lets out a screech making him flinch and cling to Wonwoo.
The man lets out a laugh at Jun's peril and he would be offended if he wasn't so endeared.
They walk together through the near empty gallery looking at more and more…'abstract' artworks, is the polite way of putting it. There's a taxidermied duck sitting on top of a pink Krispy Kreme donut immortalized in resin which was to represent the societal struggle of femininity. Another display had a pair of hopefully clean briefs on a wire hanger, signed by the artist and titled 'Mother'. Through all of this he had managed to hide his confused noises into hums of supposed intrigue. Every time he briefly glanced at his date to gauge his reaction, he only got the sight of a concentrated pout or some murmur of acknowledgement of the plaques of each piece. After passing what is literally a stack of bricks, Jun thinks he's gotten the hang of pretending to know what on earth is going on.
Until they reach the banana and Jun breaks.
In a large empty room there is a single banana duct taped to the wall.
"It's a banana," Jun murmured.
Wonwoo steps up closer to the spotlighted hung fruit to read the information next to it.
"It's called the 'Comedian'. 'This piece is a symbol of global trade and a witty double entendre. The angle of the duct tape and the banana are chosen with precision to properly emulate the intended message-,'"
"What message?!" Jun hissed.
"'-This is the third edition of the piece. The first and second having sold at £91,000 each-'"
"No."
"-and the third edition bought by this museum at £114,000-'"
"Oh my god."
"'-Each edition comes with its own certificate of authenticity. The original banana was bought at a Miami supermarket. The bananas are regularly replaced as seen fit.' Huh, interesting."
Silence rang through the room as they both stared at the bruised strapped fruit.
"Th-this is a joke," Jun whispers in horrified awe.
Wonwoo spares him a glance, "No, it's a banana."
Jun looks at him incredulously.
"This. This isn't even the original banana."
"Well, they said they have a certificate of authentici-"
"No! This is- It's, it's stupid! This banana costs my university fees and it's not even the real banana? The Miami banana? The donut makes more sense and it's a donut with a duck on it! Even the pile of bricks and the ugly doll, oh stop wailing you stupid thing, is less of a joke than this goddamned penis replacement fruit! I don't understand and I'm sorry but none of this is art, it's just, it's just fart!"
And Wonwoo laughs. Hard. Practically guffaws. It's probably the loudest he has ever heard him. He's even clapping at Jun's misery.
"Oh, oh, god. I'm so glad you think the same way," he breathes out, clinging onto Jun's shoulder to stop himself from tumbling forward into giggles.
"What."
"I had no idea what we were looking at the entire time. You just seemed so interested and I didn't want to offend you," Wonwoo explained somewhat sheepishly.
"I thought you liked this stuff so I pretended I knew what was going on!" Jun exclaimed, "Minghao said you go to museums and stuff with him so I thought…"
Wonwoo blinks, "Ah, I usually go to science and history museums. If I go to art museums, it's usually the historical paintings. It's really fascinating and sometimes hilarious how various eras portray felines."
"Oh, I love ugly medieval lions!"
"I think there's a medieval art section at the back. Are you interested?"
Jun looped his arm around Wonwoo's and smiles widely at him.
"Absolutely bananas."
Re: [FILL] This shit is bananas (b a n a n a s)
Re: [FILL] This shit is bananas (b a n a n a s)