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}
sucker!!
Major Tags: cyberpunk/dystopia à la Arcane, gang newbie and member taking them under their wing, first kill panic, mockery as motivational speech
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
[FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
Major Tags: violence, dystopia
Additional Tags: gang initiations, mean emotionless vernon, chan nearly dying
Permission to remix: pls ask!
***
Chan is crying the first time Vernon puts a gun in his hand. Vernon is made of stone, expressionless, as he takes Chan by the shoulder and turns him around.
There is a body in front of them, hands and feet tied, bag over its head. Chan calls it a body, because if he calls it a person, he will fall to his knees.
“Shoot him,” Vernon says. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
–
“Hyung, you’re so cool,” Dino slurs up at Vernon. Seungkwan hisses at him to shut up, pressing down on his wound. Dino got too cocky earlier, rushing the warehouse and taking out the front guard, but not anticipating the reinforcements. Vernon came to clean house, but not quick enough to stop the bullet lodging in Dino’s stomach.
Dino had laughed at the crimson blooming on his shirt. “Hyung, am I gonna die?” he asked before Vernon tossed him over his shoulder, shouting at Seungkwan to drive, fucking drive Boo, come on -
He thinks he’s lost consciousness a few times, Vernon always slapping him back to life. An angry spectre hovering quietly as Seungkwan does his work, patching him up, cursing Dino’s name as he does so. “Lee Chan, I swear to God - “
“He’s Dino, Boo.”
“No,” Dino laughs, lightheaded as fuck. “I’m invincible.”
Seungkwan sighs, one bloody hand brushing Chan’s sweaty hair back. “Hansol, he’s lost a lot of blood.” Seungkwan only calls Vernon by his given name when it’s serious. Life or death. Chan blinks at them, his vision blurring.
Vernon leans forward to grab Chan by the chin, forcing him to look at him, ignoring Seungkwan’s angry protest. “Are you gonna die on me? Huh?”
“No sir,” Chan spits out, cheeky. Still alive. Some of his blood lands on Vernon’s cheek. Seungkwan pushes him away, but Chan pictures it staining Vernon’s skin. Always with him.
–
When the gang first came across him in the ruins of the city, Chan was skinny, starving. Desperate. Everyone he knew was dead, and he wanted to live. So he threw himself at the first sign of life, even if S.Coups had kicked him away with a look of disgust.
“Aw, he’s cute,” Jeonghan peered across S.Coups shoulder with a dangerous smile. “You don’t want to keep him?”
“He’s too skinny,” S.Coups grunted. “He’ll die in a second.”
Chan had crawled back, laying his cheek on S.Coups dirty boots. He’d lick them, if he had the energy. “Please,” he croaked, voice breaking from misuse. “Please.”
Jeonghan had whined, and S.Coups let out this heavy sigh. “Vernon,” he shouted towards the back of the group. A boy, just a boy, stepped out, the machine gun strapped over his shoulder too big for his lanky frame. He looked down at Chan blankly.
“This one’s yours.” S.Coups signs Chan’s life over, without thinking twice, and Vernon doesn't look like he cares at all. “Keep him alive if you want him.”
–
Chan’s first shot doesn’t do it. The body starts screaming from the pain, and Chan begins to sob, hands slick with sweat. The gun is cold and heavy, and he wants to throw it away. Vernon sighs. “Aim higher. Do it again.”
He smacks Chan upside the head when he doesn’t immediately do so. “Again,” he repeats and Chan trembles. Takes aim and -
It takes two more tries. Chan drops the gun as soon as the body drops to the floor. Then he’s next to go, vomiting up the contents of his stomach while Vernon watches impassively.
There’s a hand on his back. Taps twice. “Don’t be such a baby,” is all his keeper has to say for him before walking away.
–
“You’re late,” Vernon says coolly when Dino slides into the passenger seat with a whoop. He jingles the bag with their loot in Vernon’s face as he speeds away. Vernon glances over, brows furrowing. “You got more than I asked for.”
“Mmm,” Dino shows off the pretty little jewels he couldn’t resist snatching, amber with green swirling inside. “Pretty right? They remind me of your eyes, hyung.”
Vernon looks away. “You’re so reckless.”
I’m what you made me, Dino thinks. Everything Dino is, is because of Vernon. He reaches over to tap Vernon twice on the wrist. Vernon lets him.
–
Chan can’t sleep after that first kill. His dead parents come back to life in his dreams, trying to drag him down to hell with them. He’s a zombie during the day, doing as Vernon bids without complaint.
He dreams of Vernon coming to his bed once. Something like regret painted on his face. He holds Chan for a moment, letting him cry into his chest. “It gets easier,” dream Vernon says. “We’ll make it together. Okay?” He leaves Chan with his gun. His.
Chan is certain it was a dream. Vernon would never. But the next morning, Vernon’s gun rests on his pillow.
–
New recruits don’t get to prepare for initiation. As leader, S.Coups will decide when it’s time to prove themselves, usually at random. “If you choke, you’re dead meat,” is the one piece of advice passed around. Chan knows about this. But he doesn’t learn that practice isn’t allowed until after his own initiation and naming ceremony.
He’s sharing a drink with Seungkwan, who compliments his natural shooting. “I nearly pissed myself when I had to do it for the first time,” Seungkwan sighs unhappily.
Dino blinks. “That wasn’t my first time.”
Seungkwan blinks back. “What do you mean?”
He senses there’s something wrong but can’t put his finger on what. “I practiced with Vernon hyung, so I got good. Did you not practice?”
Seungkwan spits his drink out. “Practice? Really?” At Dino’s nod, Seungkwan gapes for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No shit. Wow! I guess Vernonie really wanted to keep you.”
He shakes his head, pouring Dino another drink. Dino stares down at it, something hot squirming in his stomach. He looks up, trying to seek Vernon in the crowd, but Seungkwan is talking again. “Don’t mention it to anyone. Okay?”
He doesn’t. Vernon doesn’t either. Another unspoken thing settling in the dust between them.
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
in love with this hardened vernon with a soft spot for dino, the maknae line camaraderie is lovely. can't believe i'm going to say this but it's sort of a grittier maze runner vibe. thank you so much for this one i love it
Re: [FILL] me, in your blood-stained image
[FILL] if everybody's letting go, let's do it with both hands
Major Tags: violence, murder, minor character death
Additional Tags: some blood, mention of alcohol & drugs, mourning the death of past selves
Permission to remix: Please ask
(also posted on AO3) I had a lot of fun writing this
***
The first thing Chan learns is that Hoshi is not Soonyoung. Because Soonyoung wasn't Hoshi and it makes him shiver to think that maybe, maybe Soonyoung was never Soonyoung to begin with.
There is hidden machinery beneath Soonyoung’s face, Chan knows, small thin pieces of technology he doesn’t quite understand that runs along the right side of his face— he could trace over it with his eyes closed. There is hidden machinery beneath Hoshi’s face, Chan watches as it glows in the darkness of the night like neon veins stretching from his temple to his chin, like venom. It pulses with bioluminescence, something too animal to be machinery, and Chan wonders if it really is technology at all, if it ever was.
Hoshi catches him looking and smiles.
His smile, too, is like Soonyoung’s. It reminds Chan of winter, of a snowy dawn and tears running down his face. Soonyoung had been there — Soonyoung had always been there — for him. An anchor, keeping him grounded even when the waves had threatened to pull him from the shore and down into the depths. Snowflakes had clung to Soonyoung’s dark hair like little stars in an empty sky. Hoshi’s hair now is silver-white as if the snowflakes had melted and bleached it, his gaze is cold, but his smile is still everything Chan remembers.
The second thing Chan learns, shortly after the first, is the sound of a dead body hitting the floor. The sound of flesh falling into a pool of its own blood. The sound of Hoshi putting his gun back in its holster.
Chan is still Chan and he doesn’t dare look— doesn’t dare take his eyes off Hoshi.
“You’re going to have to come with me.” Hoshi says, but it’s Soonyoung who continues, “It’s not safe for you here now.”
“You’ve seen too much.” Hoshi says with Soonyoung’s voice.
Chan is prepared to mourn the Soonyoung he knew but the way Hoshi holds his hand out, the way Hoshi’s fingers intertwine with his, the way Hoshi helps him up and leads him away— it makes him pause. Soonyoung was never Hoshi, Soonyoung was gone before Chan ever could’ve known— but some of Chan’s Soonyoung still exists in Hoshi.
And that is a very different kind of mourning.
The third thing Chan learns is the weight of a gun in his hand.
His hand is shaking and he cannot stop it. He feels Hoshi’s unimpressed glare at the back of his head. His hand is shaking more than the person in front of him; the person whom Hoshi had gagged to stop the string of pleads and begs spilling from their lips.
“Any time today, if you will.” Hoshi’s voice is devoid of emotion yet dripping with disdain, with the venom that he’d gotten Chan to paint on his nails.
Hoshi doesn’t say his name, he never says Chan’s name— Chan wishes he would, just once.
“I can’t—” Chan’s voice is so much quieter than he’d meant to be, echoing in the warehouse and so much smaller beside Hoshi’s commanding presence.
“I can’t.” Hoshi parrots back at him, scoffing “You aren’t a child anymore, stop acting like one.”
The gun is heavy in his hand, the cold metal like needles into his palms from how tightly he’s gripping it. He knows all the parts— had learnt them over and over again, taking apart the gun and putting it back together under Hoshi’s careful watch until he could recognise each piece with his eyes closed.
There are tears running down his face now, tears that he wipes on his sleeve as quickly as he can before Hoshi notices. He doesn’t quite hide the little hiccups of his sobs in time though, and he can feel the faint distaste rolling off of Hoshi at the sound.
“Aim.” Hoshi’s voice is right beside his ear now, his chest almost pressed up against Chan’s back.
He listens. He follows. He places his other hand on the gun to steady himself.
“Shoot.”
Chan hesitates.
“Lee Chan.” Hoshi’s voice is a whisper now, a hiss, a viper lying in wait. His hand is on Chan’s shoulder. “Would you like to take his place instead? No? Then stop humiliating me — shoot. him.”
Chan pulls the trigger.
Hoshi lets out a low whistle as he steps around Chan and walks over to the corpse. The corpse that Chan put there. The one that Chan just shot. His shoulders are shaking again as he watches Hoshi carefully lift the corpse’s head back up off its chest. The gun slips from his sweaty hands with a loud clatter.
“A perfect shot — right between the eyes.” There’s awe in Hoshi’s voice. It makes Chan feel equal parts proud and sick to his stomach. He wishes he hadn’t done so well. “I knew you could do it, Chan.”
He wishes Hoshi would stop saying his name.
Chan is silent the whole way back to their gang’s hideout. He is silent and pale and almost completely motionless. As if it was his body that had collapsed back in the warehouse, lifeless and broken.
Perhaps it was.
There is a party thrown for him when they return, booze and drugs and cheering chants of Hoshi’s name— to the gang, Chan has no name yet but there is blood on his hands now and so he is finally one of them. Someone tries to pull him away from the crowd, their grin reveals fangs and doesn’t falter even when Hoshi steps between them and Chan with a raised eyebrow.
“C’mon, Hoshi, the kid just got his first kill — he needs a tat from The8.” They pout in a way that could almost be innocent, if Chan didn’t know where he was.
Hoshi turns to him, eyebrow still raised. It takes Chan a moment to realise it’s a question.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know…”
“It’s a tradition though, you have—”
Hoshi drags Chan away before he can hear the rest of their sentence and he is beyond grateful.
They’re in Hoshi’s corner of the living space when Chan finally finds (aided by the alcohol in his system) the courage to ask—
“Hyung,” he starts, waiting for Hoshi to finish his sip of his own beer bottle first before continuing, “do you have a tattoo?”
Hoshi laughs, twisting in his seat to pull his jacket down just enough to give Chan a glimpse of the dark ink running across his back and over one of his shoulders— although Chan doesn’t get a good look at what the tattoo actually is.
The following silence is neither unsettling nor comfortable, the sound of the party dying down but still audible through the metal walls of the hideout. In this moment of peace, Chan finds himself mourning, now that he has the time to. His fingers are still stained with crimson no matter how hard he washes them, his old life left in ashes and left far behind where he can no longer return to. He prepares two graves although he doesn’t quite know who the second person he’s mourning is yet.
It’s in the darkness of night, swinging in barely held together hammocks, that Hoshi nudges him with a ring-clad hand.
“Have you got a name yet?”
“You know my name, hyung.” Chan replies, painfully wide awake and unable to sleep.
“Tch, no, you need a name. You’re one of us now.” Hoshi huffs, “I’m Hoshi, and you’re…?”
It doesn’t take Chan long to decide. He’s been thinking about it on and off since he first took Hoshi’s hand. It’s a name he’s been testing in the cold moments he’s left alone, surrounded by four metal walls layered with rust and wondering if he’ll ever make it in this broken world. He knows his name.
“Dino.” He whispers it into the still air. “My name is Dino.”
“Welcome to the gang, Dino.” he can hear the way Hoshi’s lips curl around the sound. He likes it.
It’s Chan who mourns but it’s Dino that visits the graves he's prepared. It feels different now, standing in front of two engraved tombstones in his heart with snow swirling around his feet. Even in the burning heat of summer with his muscles aching and sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, he finds time to make the trip. It’s Chan who mourns but it’s Dino that visits the graves of Soonyoung and Chan.
And it’s Dino who shakes Hoshi awake one winter dawn. Outside the makeshift window — really just a hole in the metal walls — the first snow has begun to fall.
“I think I want that tattoo now.” He whispers and Hoshi sits up in his hammock immediately.
The tattoo parlour is still closed when they arrive— if it can be considered a parlour. It’s barely a small shack on the outside, looking as dark and unfriendly as the rest of the world they know. It shares a wall with the rest of the hideout but there’s a faint hum that Dino can’t quite discern. Snowflakes cling to the two of them as Hoshi calls The8 and Chan feels anticipation burning through his chest. There’s nerves there too, something between terror and excitement.
The8 turns out to be one of the taller members of the gang that Dino’s seen in passing before— sharpening daggers in the living area or painting on the rare days where there is peace and quiet. The runes on his arms always glow different colours and at different intensities — Chan wonders if they’re of the same magic as the right side of Hoshi’s face. Dino hopes he never has to learn how they glow when The8 is in a fight.
The door to the tattoo shack glows too but in a way that Dino is distinctly certain is technology, not magic. The8 steps through first and Hoshi pushes Dino in after. The inside of the building is far too large to fit within the walls he’d seen outside, the walls lined with tattoo art, stencils, and weapons alike. Hoshi pushes him forward again, guiding him towards one of the tattoo chairs and placing a binder of designs on his lap while The8 prepares his tools.
“The door was a portal.” Hoshi explains with a grin in response to the way Dino’s gaze can’t help but flicker back to it before settling on the designs in the binder. “The bigger designs are at the back of the folder, if you want something like mine.”
In the end, he decides on something smaller — a snarling tiger head on the inside of his wrist. He doesn’t miss the way Hoshi’s face lights up when he picks it or the knowing smirk on The8’s face as he readies his needle. Dino nods and tries to sit as still as he can while he gets inked.
(The fourth thing Chan learns is that tattoos fucking hurt.)
The fifth kill is no easier than the first. It still leaves Dino shaky and all too aware of the blood on his hands. The tiger on his wrist glares at him and he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t feel proud of himself like Hoshi tells him he should— of your progress, he says, you’ve come so far since you joined. He has, Dino knows he has, but he doesn’t have to like it. He can’t deny that he doesn’t feel as sick anymore— he’s still shaky, yes, but he calms down far easier, far more quickly, than before.
A hand tilts his head up roughly and Hoshi hums as he smears the blood oozing from a cut on Dino’s face across his cheek. It looks good on you, he’d said once when their lips had been just millimetres apart and Dino had responded with a confused impatient noise, wanting to get another kiss before they had to get back to the hideout. Blood, Hoshi had said, blood looks good on you.
There’s a new tattoo on Hoshi’s wrist; Dino sees it out of the corner of his eye. He steps back just enough to see it, holding Hoshi’s arm still in the air with one hand. There, in elegant black ink, is the image of a dinosaur skull, the ink of the eye sockets glowing faintly neon. It rests on the inside of his wrist, the same side and placement as the tiger inked into Dino’s skin. The meaning is clear. Hoshi leans down and Dino meets him halfway. Their kiss tastes like blood.
The last thing Chan learns is that this is his life now, and Dino’s just fine with that.