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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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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and if home is a person does that time between you turn into distance
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: balconys
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
Re: [FILL] distance: 4.35 years
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: finding home, vignettes, ghosts, magical realism, ambiguous, author lost control for the majority of this, implied sexual content
Permission to remix: Yes
***
op i do not know how close this is to what you're imagining for this prompt. i got very carried away. some parts are ambiguous and unresolved, so i'm leaving it up to readers to decide the mcs'...backstories.
in all honesty idk what this is, and it is unedited, so enjoy whatever this is that my brain conjured :)
***
The distance between the earth and its closest star is 4.35 light-years. The distance between Minghao and his home is 4.35 years.
In Paris, Île-de-France, there is an apartment that overlooks the Seine. The only landmark left of their first date.
They’d only stayed for one night, but one was enough to watch the way the Seine blazed at midnight, wreathed in gold and orange, the hearth of Paris, the city of light—or love. In that one night, the two were one and the same.
They’d watched the city light up on the balcony. The two of them, side by side, wine glasses in hand. Mingyu had turned Minghao’s face, so carefully and gently, like he’s afraid he might shatter if he pressed too hard. Minghao had closed the distance with bruising vigour.
That night the Seine was Paris’ hearth, and Mingyu was Minghao’s.
In Florence, Italy, in a luxury apartment that they barely spare a glance for, Mingyu spreads Minghao open on the roof balcony, on a clear and warm night, the Palazzo Vecchio haloed softly against the horizon. Two flutes of champagne, each topped with a strawberry, sit untouched on the table. A pot of white orchids unfurl gracefully from a pot beside them.
Gone is the gentleness. That night Mingyu presses into Minghao like he wants him to break, like he wants to push him until he’s all hairline fractures down the middle and shards in Mingyu’s hands. That night Mingyu disassembles Minghao with the goal of reassembling him. That night Minghao must’ve lost a piece of himself to Mingyu, for nothing was ever the same for him again. Or Mingyu must’ve taken a piece of him; the most crucial piece, the piece Minghao would gladly give up all the same, if it means being with Mingyu.
Later Mingyu will trace Minghao’s lips in another city and think back to the shingles of the neighboring rooftops, the flatness of the cityscape and the mountains like faded watercolor in the background.
Minghao will only remember the heat of Mingyu’s gaze, the coolness of the champagne glass passed between them, and the imprint of Mingyu that burned so brightly against his eyelids that Minghao could not sleep that night.
In Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, Minghao stands by the tasseled curtains of the castle hotel and watches the aqua gem for a lake glimmer, backed by mountains whose peaks are dusted with snow. He watches as little red canoes disturb the pristine surface. He watches the outside as Mingyu watches him, infinite words trapped in the warmth of his gaze. He is smiling fondly, and Minghao turns to kiss it away.
Later, Mingyu will whine and pout as Minghao giggles, because Mingyu’s hat gets blown into the water by the wind and sinks while their canoe cuts through the turquoise, little ripples of water slapping at the flanks of the canoe gently.
When they pause for a breath, Minghao will turn and snap a photo of Mingyu, a little souvenir, the most candid he will have seen of Mingyu.
That photo will stay in Minghao’s wallet for a long time. It’ll be the only thing he has of Mingyu.
For Minghao, home has never been stationary. In Paris, in Florence, in Banff. In Annecy, in Geneva, in Los Angeles. In New York, in Cuba, in Dubai. Wherever Mingyu is.
For Minghao home has always been the hearth inside of Mingyu, the little breath of flames Mingyu presses onto the divot of Minghao’s tongue, that Minghao swallows eagerly, without hesitation. His home, he’s kept it alive, burning behind his sternum, for as long as he can. For 4 years and 3 months.
4 years and 3 months, where the only remnants of home he has left are the photo he still keeps tucked in his wallet, and the memories he shoves down his throat, chokes on, to guide him.
For his entire lifetime, Mingyu had been his home. Still is his home. His home is wherever Mingyu is.
And Mingyu is here, Minghao thinks, striding up the wide, unswept stairs. Fall has descended in France, the leaves gold, flaming red, canary yellow. La Cimetière du Père Lachaise is as beautiful as always. Mingyu is here, Minghao thinks, stopping in front of a headstone, engravings clear despite the moss and grime.
Here lies Kim Mingyu.
The man who set a heart on fire and never returned to put it back out. Minghao adds.
The distance between the earth and its closest star is 4.35 light-years. The distance between Minghao and his home is 4.35 years. 4 years and 3 months. No longer.
Mingyu is underground, amongst the stars, home.
“I’m ready to go home.” Minghao says.
The leaves ruffle in response. And then he’s gone.
Only a photo, worn and frayed around the edges, flutters to the ground. Upon closer glance, it’s of Lake Louise, the transparent turquoise lake that steals hats from tourists. There’s no one in the picture.
For Mingyu and Minghao, they were never substantial in this timeline. They were lost, they found each other, and they found their homes.
***
so there's that. there's some symbolism and motifs running through here, so if it helps, think about what fires, warmth, hearths (in particular) may represent and that might facilitate understanding. the symbolism of stars plays a role in the ending too.
Re: [FILL] distance: 4.35 years
There's so many lines in here I want to parrot back to you, bu this one right at the beginning really struck me:
That night the Seine was Paris’ hearth, and Mingyu was Minghao’s.
Thank you so much for filling my prompt, I absolutely could not have imagined this vivid, melancholic meeting of stars across time!!!
Re: [FILL] distance: 4.35 years
Re: [FILL] distance: 4.35 years
Re: [FILL] distance: 4.35 years
[FILL] sick w/o you
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: fluff, reunions, canon compliant
Permission to remix: Yes
***
When Minghao is released from quarantine, his first stop is the dorm. It takes twenty minutes to drop off his stuff and shower.
Second stop? The Hybe building.
He doesn’t consider himself back until he’s stepping over the threshold of the tiny practice room in the basement that Jungkook likes to reserve—the drafty one that no one else ever wants, the one where they are guaranteed privacy.
Minghao locks the door behind himself anyway.
Jungkook is sprawled flat on the floor, his hair a disorganized huddle. There must be an earbud under there if he hasn’t reacted to the click of the door yet. He scrolls aimlessly through his phone, tattoos on full display. He looks comfortable, and soft, and shockingly real. It turns out video calls don’t do him justice. Jungkook has the presence of a goddamn deity.
Minghao’s been looking forward to this day for weeks, and still—it overwhelms him. Like an adrenaline rush. He stops and stares. Memories surge, unbidden.
Did you know you were the first boy I ever had a crush on? Minghao almost blurts out. The first time I saw you, you were onstage in a ridiculous black bandana and cargo shorts, blue spotlight in your hair. I swear I could see the man you’d become. I swear I loved you from that first glance. When Mingyu finally added me to your group chat my hands were sweaty for days. Haven’t we come so far since then? Did you know I told my mom about you? Did you know I’m gonna buy you a house one day? With a balcony overlooking the sea, just like you’ve always wanted. I swear I’ll do it.
Five years catch in his throat. Minghao swallows hard. He feels different whenever he’s separated from Jungkook for a long time. Sickly. Ill. Out of touch with himself. Then it all rushes away when they see each other again.
How dramatic love is.
Finally, Jungkook looks up. Even in the weird basement fluorescents, his face is a jewel. He makes a squeaky sound of surprise and sits up so fast his hair falls into his eyes. Smearing it back with one hand, he vaults to his feet—graceful as a gymnast—and throws himself at Minghao with one excited leap.
“You’re back!”
Then they’re kissing. Minghao is smiling too hard, at first, and Jungkook is laughing, so their teeth clack together, but he doesn’t care. They get it right after a few tries. Jungkook sinks into his chest. His mouth opens under Minghao’s, soft and shivery.
Minghao pulls back just far enough to ask, “How’s Bam? Also, did you get even bigger?” He lays his palms flat on Jungkook’s pectorals.
Jungkook grins, cocky and gorgeous. “Bam’s good. They gave me a weight set inside my quarantine room. You didn’t get one?”
“You’re a spoiled brat.”
“Ah, you missed me!” He grabs Minghao by the face and kisses him again. Deeper, more insistently. Heat kindles between them.
“Yeah, I missed you,” Minghao murmurs into Jungkook’s mouth.
Jungkook pushes Minghao’s bangs out of his face. His fingertips trail down the side of his cheek, his jaw. Gentle and familiar. Minghao is so glad to be in his body right now.
“Missed you too,” Jungkook says. “Welcome home.”
Re: [FILL] sick w/o you
[REMIX] from blossom to impossible blossom
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Future Fic, Fluff, Outsider POV
Permission to remix: Yes
A/N: This specific outsider pov is inspired by this one brilliant hq fic uhh....yeah, dreamwidth user klav, I love you.
***
Noah can’t think of a single customer before them who has made him feel quite as invisible in his own space, in all his years driving a taxi.
It’s not that the guys he’s driving are ignoring him—they’ve been polite, shared some small talk about the weather and how it’s not their first trip to L.A, despite the language barrier that was obvious the minute he picked them up.
(They had been waiting at a signal and the guy with the piercings, the one who was carrying most of the conversation had turned to his companion and said something Noah didn’t understand and yet he was certain it had been something along the lines of but it’s our first time here together. Noah had caught only the beginnings of two twin pleased blushes on both their faces before the light turned green and he pulled his eyes back onto the road.)
It’s not even the fact that they’re the first couple he’s seen in their honeymoon phase because they’re not and whatever this is, is decidedly not the shy giddy spark of the early days of a romance but something entirely different.
There’s a palpable familiarity and comfort between them and yet the glances they steal when the other isn’t looking betrays an anxiety that is just as ill-disguised as their affection. Perhaps what they have now hasn’t come to them as easily as it may seem at first glance.
Midway down the Los Feliz, Piercing Guy pokes the other one, lifting the hem of his bucket hat and drawing him closer to his own side of the car as he points outside and says something in rapid Korean, bubbling with excitement.
Bucket Hat Guy’s response is calmer, his soft tone belying the way his body has turned entirely towards Piercing Guy, already in a forward motion as if all it needs to fall is the call that beckons him to come.
Noah hasn’t missed the fact that their hands haven’t stopped touching each other the entire time they’ve been in his car. Only briefly were they entwined, when they had been stalling in traffic and Noah had turned back to ask them if they wanted the radio on only to find Bucket Hat Guy press his lips to their joined knuckles.
He had spun back to face the front, his own cheeks heated.
“Hey,” Piercing Guy calls out to him, “I think we’ll get down here—we’ll walk.”
Noah doesn’t have to ask where they’re walking to, two sets of eyes steadily fixed on the Observatory looming on their right.
“Seen La La Land?” He asks when he’s handing back their change.
They both nod eagerly and Piercing Guy starts humming, what Noah presumes must be one of the songs from the movie. Bucket Hat Guy throws an arm around his shoulder and mumbles something against his cheek, half-speech half-laughter, giggles pealing forth like champagne bubbles into the other guy’s ear.
Piercing Guy, who can’t be anything but his lover, watches him in a trance as if trying to memorise this sound of pure, unadulterated joy. It’s like a moment made of spun gold, gleaming under the early afternoon sun.
Noah clears his throat. It feels wrong to be allowed to watch this kind of ostensibly private happiness. It’s strange, how it turns him into a thief and a voyeur at the same time.
They turn away from each other as they disembark and thank him profusely for the ride, hands clasped tightly between their bodies.
“Have a nice trip!” Noah says before getting back on the road, letting their silhouettes slowly dissolve into the stream of sunshine lighting the road he leaves behind.
Re: [REMIX] from blossom to impossible blossom
Re: [FILL] sick w/o you
Re: [FILL] sick w/o you
i keep reading this and feeling like a kid being given their favourite chocolate for BREAKFAST. and then i read it again and feel like that ALL OVER AGAIN.
the minghao-gaze sits so heavy on this one gosh, this line:
It turns out video calls don’t do him justice. Jungkook has the presence of a goddamn deity.
THIS ENTIRE SECTION I WAS JUST KICKINF MY LEGS OUT LIKE, Did you know you were the first boy I ever had a crush on? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THE FIRST BOY? Like I totally imagine I NEED U/RUN ERA JK on stage and Minghao just, looking and looking for two years? Before the groupchat? And the way jk greets him it's like oh he took no time at all to catch up to all the love Minghao had been holding onto--or did he? SO MUCH TEASING IN WHAT YOU"VE CHOSEN TO REVEAL AND WHAT YOU HAVEN'T.
And then you hit me with this:
Did you know I’m gonna buy you a house one day? With a balcony overlooking the sea, just like you’ve always wanted. I swear I’ll do it.
I...I need to know where's the house with the balcony, did they make it, which city did they decide on, do they have any dogs, I am delirious with the need to see this future, balcony with the fucking sea view for a boy from Busan ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Then these lines:
Five years catch in his throat. AGAIN. So much history in so little it has my two brain cells boinging inside my skull like a ping pong ball
How dramatic love is. thinking about gmat and the ridiculousness of intimacy all over again
Jungkook sinks into his chest.
Minghao is so glad to be in his body right now.
straight up bawling with how romantic this is. ways to say i love you without saying i love you, this might be one of my absolute favourite lines from you
i know i said this already but i feel soooo full of care and love and attention, this is like the best gift i can get, i will never fear for consequences again if this is what i get in return, i love this more than most things i have read this year already like yeah im biased, but so what. you have planted an entire album of possibilities in my brain with these two and im catatonic but grateful. ily.