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
- Sign up is not required.
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- There is no maximum cap.
- Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest).
- NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged
- NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview.
How it works
Prompting
- Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post;
- Change the subject to something interesting;
- Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want!
Filling
- Reply to the original prompt;
- Change the subject to [FILL], you may add a title or stay chaotic;
- Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text.
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;
- Change the subject to [REMIX].
Art/media
- Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.)
- Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it!
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(To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want)
Note!
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[FILL]: Everybody’s got to love something
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: minor character death (implied), blood, lies, ambigous ending, some sort of spies/secret agents setting i guess
Permission to remix: Yes
I honestly don't know what possessed me. I'm sorry Ki!!
***
The last time Wonwoo let himself want, someone ended up dead.
In his dreams, the blood is still vivid, staining the palms of his hands, dripping out of a wound that he was unable to cauterize, palms uselessly fumbling to apply pressure. In his dreams, there’s always so much red.
The last time Wonwoo let his guard down, a life was taken, and a golden medal was appointed to his chest, a reminder that he destroyed one life to save countless others. If he could go back and change the trade, he would. If he could go back, he would swap the cards, become a traitor. Choose a life on the run and one less life on his conscience.
He’s learned to tighten the cuffs around his heart, leaving it no room to breathe. In his line of work, wanting leads to death. It leads to countless sleepless nights, made of nightmares stained with memories, whirlwinds of reality poisoning his sleep.
Numbing himself with alcohol isn’t the smartest choice, not when the cool liquid going down his throat doesn’t lessen his want, not when all it does is loosen up his tongue. He should know better than to down another drink, and yet.
“You’re still here.” Jeonghan’s voice is soft, suave, a caress on Wonwoo’s heated skin, a nail on the coffin of his heart. “Thought you would be gone to bed by now.”
The last time Wonwoo let himself want, someone ended up dead. Every time Wonwoo stops himself from wanting, a piece of himself dies. It’s an unbalanced trade.
“Can’t sleep,” Wonwoo says, omitting the ghosts that haunt his dreams. Jeonghan just tips his glass in his direction, downing the clear liquid inside it. He smacks his lips against the sour taste of alcohol mixed with soda, and Wonwoo yearns for that mouth, craves its warmth.
Inside his chest, his traitorous heart beats faster when Jeonghan’s hand squeezes his knee, palm resting over the light fabric of his trousers. It’s a gentle gesture. It’s everything that Jeonghan isn’t - warm, soft, comforting.
The last time Wonwoo let himself want, it wasn’t Jeonghan. Now, with fingers cold from condensation and his heartbeat on the tip of his tongue, Wonwoo wonders how it would feel, to let himself fall into the web of lies that Jeonghan has set out for him.
Play pretend, they told him, but his heart must have not heard. The cuffs around it are loosening up, claws ready to devour, bleeding for a love that isn’t real, that would never be so.
Jeonghan smiles and it’s pretty, even if it's fake.
“I think I love you, Yoon Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says, truth slipping out of him with a bitter chuckle.
The pretty grin stays on Jeonghan’s face, his hand stays on Wonwoo’s knee.
“Everybody’s got to love something,” Jeonghan says back, voice unwavering.
In Wonwoo’s dreams, his face takes the place of the dead, bleeding love out of his wound. In reality, Jeonghan just keeps on smiling.
This time, when Wonwoo lets himself want, it's a losing game.
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“Can’t sleep,” Wonwoo says, omitting the ghosts that haunt his dreams.
oh i loved how you phrased it. wonwoo you haunted guy, you fell for another ghost!!! thank you for writing and sharing!!!
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[REMIX]: from the dead: a sense of scale
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: spies au, im not saying triangulations but am i, brief descriptions of violence and murder, richard fucking siken
Permission to remix: Yes
Remix 4/5
A/N: Honestly I wrote this trying to get myself out of a really bad slump so if it makes no sense it's because I was trying not to second guess myself and I didn't make any edits after writing.(sorry for the mess, lilli TT)
***
Jeon Wonwoo has pretty fingers with knuckles that jut outwards in a way that should be off-putting but only makes Jeonghan want to bring them to his lips.
He has a haunted face, stricken with the possibility of its own self even as it tries—always too hard—to not give anything away.
Jeonghan knows the type.
His type.
Being a part of the shadows means knowing that the light always touch darkness somewhere, means knowing that it isn’t the absence of light that makes darkness but the constant, active bending of light by someone who knows it’s truth: it’s corruptible.
Jeonghan’s been that someone in his own life for as long as he can remember.
Though if ever asked he’d claim to flit between the glowing valleys where the living stake their claim because he had no choice, it’s only that by the time he found any sign of yearning to turn back on what he had chosen for himself, it was easier to quash the signs of any weak emotion than attempt to escape, unscathed. Freedom wasn’t a luxury affordable to any paid liar.
Jeon Wonwoo isn’t a novelty, the first time he runs into Jeonghan in his latest hideout in Daegu—Seokmin’s crooning only his third number of the night on stage while Jeonghan nurses iced water under the guise of vodka, eyes fixed on Kim Mingyu draping himself over the new face in the corner table like he hadn’t almost let a target get away just an hour before forcing Jeonghan to get his hands dirty.
The new face returns next day, traces of Kim Mingyu scattered all under his open collar, red peeking out of his uncuffed sleeves and last night’s coat hanging over his shoulders. Jeonghan knows if he draws him close enough for the perspiration on their glasses to touch, he’d be drowning in the scent of Mingyu’s cologne.
Jeonghan keeps his distance and allows himself to look.
It takes another month before Jeonghan is approached by him—Jeon Wonwoo, Jeonghan catches him share with Seokmin one early evening when Seokmin’s got his shimmery bodice artfully half-opened a hyung, could you please falling from his lips oh so demurely. Wonwoo scrambles to help him and it ticks Jeonghan off, a flare burning up under his skin and he knows he’s going to give Seokmin the cold shoulder for the night, just to let him suffer. Seokmin’s no saint but Jeonghan’s not going to tell Wonwoo, who should know how to tell the difference himself.
At least with Jeonghan, you can always plainly see everything that you’re about to get coming to you.
When Wonwoo finally approaches him, Jeonghan’s at the corner table where Mingyu had straddled Wonwoo four weeks ago—not that either of them are thinking about it; Jeonghan certainly isn’t.
“May I join you?” Wonwoo hesitates before drawing the chair on the opposite side and Jeonghan knows immediately he’d clocked him right. He’ll have to be careful to not mention this to Seokmin. He’d hate to hear Jeonghan hyung, you’ ve got a type drawled into the dip behind his ear.
It’s not really a type if everybody’s looking for a place inside of someone else, is it? All Jeonghan is doing is facilitating them, saying come in with doors wide open.
Maybe a second maybe ten whole minutes later, Jeonghan smiles with a slight tip of his head back before he nods.
Wonwoo takes the seat and flags a waiter with his left hand.
Up close, he looks younger, something so fresh about his pale cheeks and the nervous tapping of his fingers on the tabletop. And yet Jeonghan knows he’s old enough to have seen a death or a couple by the force of his own hands, knows that Jeonghan maybe held responsible for toying with his feelings but can never be pulled up for doing so with his life.
“So what’s your name?” Wonwoo finally asks and Jeonghan can’t help the laugh that rumbles out of him.
Over their heads, the lamp bursts with a pop and Jeonghan feels Wonwoo’s knees knock into his before he hears the sharp intake of breath.
“Wonwoo-ssi,” He starts to answer, “You should’ve stayed where the light is.”
“I killed someone.” Wonwoo splurts out, at the same time. Even in the darkness, Jeonghan can see him pretend to wipe off sweat from the bangs falling over his forehead. He’s received at least minimal training then, that should make this all the more fun, thinks Jeonghan.
When the lights are restores, Jeonghan pretends to be captivated by the bar while Wonwoo watches him, knees still pressing under the table.
In Jeonghan’s dreams that night, Wonwoo’s knuckles brush over his cheekbones, too tender to have ever done a hard day’s work; his palms cradle Jeonghan’s face and his fingertips are too soft to have ever held somebody’s thrashing body down until it succumbed to the inevitable. In Jeonghan’s dreams, they never pretend to sleep.
Re: [REMIX]: from the dead: a sense of scale
Jeonghan’s been that someone in his own life for as long as he can remember.
Though if ever asked he’d claim to flit between the glowing valleys where the living stake their claim because he had no choice, it’s only that by the time he found any sign of yearning to turn back on what he had chosen for himself, it was easier to quash the signs of any weak emotion than attempt to escape, unscathed. Freedom wasn’t a luxury affordable to any paid liar.
this is my favourite part for some reason, it's just so !!!! incredible. you're incredible. mwah. i kiss your huge brain.
Re: [REMIX]: from the dead: a sense of scale