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.
- Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too!
- 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!
- Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead.
(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!
On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it.
Navigation
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
doing the dirty and calling it love
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Family/Coworker dynamics? X loves Y, Y loves Z
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
[FILL] This is not for tears
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Coworker/family/power dynamics, infidelity, vague successiony corporate world, implied sexual content
Permission to remix: Yes
***
“Mingyu-ssi,” Seokmin says softly, toeing the ground, his eyes pleading. “Don’t take this— please don’t take this personal.”
“Oh, okay. Okay, sure. Then how exactly am I supposed to take it? Are you fucking me up the ass right now, Lee Seokmin? On the roof of my father’s company and in front of the eyes of God?”
When it’s Seokmin, Mingyu takes everything personal.
Seokmin coughs, looks around like someone might be eavesdropping on them, an anxious smile biting at the corner of his face. He’s still not very comfortable in his own skin here, fumbly and too vulnerable. He has always been soft. Milk teeth. Nobody kid from Yongin who came begging to Mingyu for a job.
When he was still Mingyu’s personal assistant, he cried once in front of Han Sung Soo and the entire third floor just because Han Sung Soo got all up in his face and said, “You gonna cry, Lee Seokmin?” It was suddenly excruciating, this rote verbal humiliation that Mingyu was so used to, perhaps because it was Seokmin. Mingyu had needed to look away. But after the meeting was over he’d gone to the bathroom and there Seokmin was, head down, still crying, the elbows of his secondhand suit getting damp where they braced against the sink.
It did something to Mingyu’s heart. There. No, it did, it did. It made him want to offer Seokmin something better. Anything better. But he knew what was expected of him. He knew he needed Seokmin right where he was. The only person Mingyu could punch down to. He should've gone to slap Seokmin’s back, make a joke like Hey Seokmin-ssi you been jacking off into the sink or what for the last half an hour? Ought to have sent him on his way, tell him to make himself useful and go get a coffee.
Instead, Mingyu came closer, slowly, like approaching a terrified dog. He splayed his hand against the pale smooth back of Seokmin’s neck, under the edges of his overgrown cheap haircut. Seokmin inhaled sharply with surprise, turned his face up to look up at him.
Touching Seokmin always made Mingyu feel strange, trembly. Split-open. Seokmin was such a little nothing, still. Especially when he cried.
Mingyu said in a low voice, staring into his flushed, shining eyes, “Look. I’ll take care of you, Seokmin-ah. I said I would, didn’t I? I’ll take care of you.”
Seokmin whispered, “Do you really mean that? Is that real?”
And for some reason, Mingyu leaned down and kissed his damp forehead.
Mingyu had been very good at taking care of things back then.
He took care of Jeonghan. He took care of their house and their dog Aji. He let himself get fucked, by Jeonghan and by Jeonghan’s father’s company and his own father’s company. A few months later he even married Jeonghan on a winter morning in Cape Cod. Seokmin was at the wedding. Of course he was. It was the greatest merger this side of the Time Warner deal, and this was the symbolic cherry on top of it, a kiss to seal it. Good optics, rotten inside. Like most things in this world.
Only problem was, Mingyu really thought he loved Jeonghan. He really, really thought he did. And Jeonghan had rewarded it by whispering into his mouth the night before the vows, one hand shoved down his pants, “I just don’t think I’m a good fit for a monogamous marriage, Mingyu-ah.”
It was the only honest thing he’d ever told Mingyu. Honesty was the most efficient way to break a person.
It was especially good timing, too, because that very morning, when Mingyu had been out for a run, Seokmin came sprinting up behind him calling his name, his mouth pursed, his eyes wide, grabbed Mingyu by the shoulder and looked into his eyes and whispered, “I think Jeonghan-ssi is— I think Jeonghan-ssi and your step-brother— um, I think Jeonghan-ssi and Seungcheol-sunbaenim—” and Mingyu had said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” kept repeating it as he shoved Seokmin backward, wrestled him to the snowy ground and straddled his writhing mass, one elbow on his throat, the way he'd wanted to be near him for so long but now it was all wrong and he said it one last time with deadly calm:
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seokmin-ssi.”
That’s what he says now, on the roof, when Seokmin says, “I’m really not trying to fuck you, I’m not. But you do remember those documents you had me get rid of.”
Mingyu keeps shaking his head stubbornly. The motions grow into desperation.
“You should know,” Seokmin says, sounding more careful than he’s ever been capable of before, “that Seungcheol-sunbaenim asked me about them the other day.”
Mingyu turns to look at him.
“Are you fucking asking me if you can kill me? You’re getting my permission before you carve my heart out? Thank you, Seokmin-ssi, what a truly nice gesture. Your coworkers are right. You’re the second kindest person after God.”
“No, no, I—” Seokmin takes a step closer. “Mingyu-ssi. Please. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want— I’m no good at this stuff. You know I’m not.” His voice has dropped into that quiet, soft cadence, trying to soothe, the way he’d talked to Aji the first and only time Mingyu had let him into his and Jeonghan’s apartment. “I’m really not smart. Maybe I’m good with people, but I’m not smart. It’s just… those documents. They could really help. They could… They could change things around here. Really.”
“If those papers get out,” Mingyu says quietly, “my father is going to send me to jail, Seokmin-ssi.”
“No, he’s not.”
“I’m the youngest son. I’m expendable.”
“You’re not expendable,” Seokmin says softly, like he really believes it. “You're a good person. You're better than all of them. Come with me. I want you to come with me.”
Abruptly, Mingyu feels his own tiredness.
That old thing sitting on his heart, so heavy. The exhaustion of having lived in this world since early adolescence. Of, for as long as he can remember, being pit like a fucking fighting dog against the people he loved and the people he wanted with all his stupid little heart to love him.
“I'm not very good,” Mingyu whispers. “You’re– you’re better than me. You’re full of hope. I’m full of nothing. I’m not a real person. I’m a straw doll. I got nothing inside me anymore. You know?”
“Well, then I’ll take care of you,” Seokmin says softly, kindly, in his talking-to-dogs voice, “Kim Mingyu.”
Seokmin is not a little nothing from Yongin anymore. He doesn't need Mingyu anymore. But he's still reaching a hand out. Mingyu touches his face because his eyes feel funny. He’s sort of crying. He turns away. Out of the corner of one eye, he sees Seokmin come closer, raise his hands up, careful.
“You,” Mingyu starts, when the large, warm hands are around his jaw, solid and anchoring.
The tenderness is out of place. Suddenly he wants those hands around his throat. He wants them to squeeze the life out of him.
“I. Seokmin. If there was some world. Where we weren’t here like this. If there was some world where we– I'd fucking marry you, you know. I'd lie awake in our bed, waiting for you to kill me. I really think I wouldn't mind being killed, if it was you."
Seokmin’s arms are around him now. Mingyu's shaking. Seokmin turns his face up to kiss his forehead. Mingyu knows Seokmin is smiling. He can tell. The knife is twisting. Mingyu's losing and he likes it. He's leaning into it.
“I’ll take care of you," Seokmin says again. "Mingyu-ah."
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
(Anonymous) 2021-12-31 12:22 am (UTC)(link)fuck. eyes BLOODSHOT WIDE OPEN ready to witness the second coming of christ. wow.
Re: [FILL] This is not for tears
(Anonymous) 2021-12-31 12:25 am (UTC)(link)[FILL] not waving but drowning
Major Tags: mentioned recreational drug use
Additional Tags: misuse of biblical lore, wonhan kenstewy, see s2 e1 of succession for more insanity, coworkers(?) to enemies(?)
Permission to remix: please ask
dear pb, i am fully aware your prompt has already been filled absolutely beautifully. in fact i’m not even sure this fits the prompt at all - it's the wrong succession couple for one thing. but i’m deranged now, so here.
***
"He's taking an important call?" Jeonghan asks. Although he doesn't ask, not really. His words are loaded with a sarcasm that curdles in Wonwoo's own mouth.
"I- yeah. He's taking a call. Like I said, he's very sorry that he couldn't-"
"He's taking a call and he can't miss it. How 80s, how quaint. How utterly charming of him. And now I have to deal with his offcuts."
Wonwoo doesn't flinch. He keeps his eyes firmly on Jeonghan's shoes. They're scuffed, just a little. Jeonghan should really put in more effort.
"You got nothing to say to me?"
Wonwoo opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. The air he breathes dries out his mouth, parches his throat.
"Of course not. You never have anything to say. Not even when it's your fucking decision, you never explain yourself. You've never needed to. You can get someone else to say the tough shit and you can run and hide under your little rock where nobody can find you."
Wonwoo squirms a little in his suit. Jeonghan's right, of course, more right than he even knows.
"And now you're not taking any of my calls."
Wonwoo blinks. He wasn't expecting that. He hopes he's imagining the plaintive hint in Jeonghan's voice.
"I'm not having it," Jeonghan continues. "We had a plan, we had everything set up, and then you cut me off with nothing. So now that you're here, I need you to say it. Tell me what fucking happened."
Wonwoo keeps staring at the shoes. "I- I mean, well- yeah, I guess-"
"Wonwoo, come on."
"Look, it's not exactly like you have any moral high ground," Wonwoo mutters weakly. "You fucked me over on that vote of no confidence about my dad. I was a dead man when I put it on the table and you practically stormed in and robbed my fucking tomb."
Jeonghan scoffs, just as Wonwoo thought he would. "You think either of us have any moral high ground? We just tried to et tu Brute your dad and now you're talking to me about moral high ground? This isn't about moral high ground anymore, this is about us."
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? Stop fucking around. We had the world in the palms of our hands. We had everything we could ever want, everything we've always wanted. But then you fucking bailed. So tell me. What did he offer you?"
"What are you talking about?" Wonwoo plays dumb, ignoring the lump rising to his throat.
"Your dad, asshole. What did he offer?"
"He didn't offer-"
"Or what did he do to you? He must have done something."
"He didn't do anything, I don't know what you mean."
Jeonghan's face twists for a second, lemon-sour and ugly in a way that Wonwoo thought was impossible. Then, he closes his eyes and sighs. When he looks back at Wonwoo, it's softer, it's moss on a river bank.
"There's a friend card here, if you want to play it. There's a living, breathing human that cares for you, that wants you to tell me things. You can tell me, whatever it is. What did he do?"
Wonwoo knows Jeonghan. He's clever enough not to fall for this.
"You don't mean that," he says. It's as confident as he can manage, brittle-voiced as he is.
"What, that I'm your friend? After all these years, is it that unbelievable that we're friends? Have I just been dicking around all this time?"
"Not- not that. Of course you're my friend, but you don't care. We're just- I mean it's only-" Wonwoo flounders, shifting in his suit.
Only what? What could possibly describe what Wonwoo and Jeonghan are?
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. Predictable. That doesn't stop something flaring up in Wonwoo, though.
"You know, you pretty much told me I shouldn't trust you. You can't tell someone not to trust you and then ask why-"
"That didn't stop you though, did it? You had no problem trusting me when it came to planning the whole thing. Why can't you trust me now?"
"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have hidden that you were working with one of my dad's biggest enemies for months."
"And it's because I care about you that I fought tooth and nail with those enemies to get a takeover arrangement that made you CEO! That's what this was all about, wasn't it? You wanted to be king of the castle and you wanted it all to yourself, so I worked to make that happen. You were so sure you could make everything better and set up your little fairytale and take away your dad's curse, but once I'd hacked through the fucking forest of thorns you bailed on me!"
Jeonghan's shouting now. He doesn't normally shout. He's sharp and acerbic and scathing, but he doesn't shout. The words land on Wonwoo like blows.
"You didn't care about that." Wonwoo curls, not blooming but wilting. "You d- You don't care about what I want. This was only ever about money to you, so I don't know why you're pretending-"
"Oh here we go," Jeonghan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here's Wonwoo, martyr of all martyrs. He's suffered more than Christ. Everyone's against him, nobody's on his side, he's all alone in a sea of people that despise his very being. So eager to repent and be crucified that he won't even spare a moment, a fraction of a second, to look in the eye of the whore that cares about him."
Wonwoo looks up at that. Jeonghan doesn't say real things. But this feels too real, real enough to sear Wonwoo's suit and burn holes in his skin.
"You don't care," Wonwoo sputters.
"Just repeating something won't make it true," Jeonghan replies. It's gentle, it's light streaming through a gap in the drapes. "Now be honest. What happened?"
For the briefest of seconds, Wonwoo considers it. Once, back in college, Jeonghan told Wonwoo that he could probably never do something wrong. Wonwoo simply glanced at the coke that he was arranging into neat lines on the table between them. But Jeonghan laughed and said you know what I mean, I mean like really wrong. You're Wonwoo. You don't do the wrong thing.
And Wonwoo had believed him. It was hard for Wonwoo to do anything wrong, Wonwoo who thought so much and did so little. But he’s different now. Maybe Jeonghan isn’t, but Wonwoo is. Wonwoo has done the wrong thing, and now he’s paying the price for it. He’s treading water, barely managing to keep his head above the surface, saltwater spluttering in his mouth and nose. Just about able to gasp a few desperate breaths. One wrong move and down he goes, never to be seen again.
Wonwoo wants to call someone over, reach a hand out, tell someone. Anyone. Jeonghan. Jeonghan who makes everything sound so easy, who would help him raze an empire to the ground if he got a share in the rubble. Jeonghan who always knows better, but somehow still wants Wonwoo to be happy. Jeonghan who cares, apparently. Does he? Would he walk by Wonwoo's side? Would he wait by his tomb for three days? If Wonwoo fell down before him, would he help him up? Or would he sink to his knees and wrap his arms around him, tighter and tighter and tighter until-
(When every embrace is a snake's coil, you learn to live without.)
Wonwoo takes a deep breath.
"Well, I- I mean- I guess I saw your plan, and my dad's plan was better." Rehearsed to an art. Wonwoo can roll this sentence around his mouth and spit it out at will.
Jeonghan nods. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And fuck you too. Fuck you, you cowardly, selfish fucking daddy's boy, fucking glass ruby, fucking spineless maggot, grade A prick."
Words are air to Wonwoo, light and free-flowing. He bends and twists them whatever way his mouth can manage. But now they're stones for Jeonghan to fling, arrows to shoot, needles to jab right where it hurts most. Maybe it's because he's telling the truth.
Wonwoo looks down at Jeonghan's shoes again. Still scuffed. He can't see himself in them, at least.
"Now that that's out of the way," Jeonghan says, "what does your father need to tell me?"