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
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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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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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maybe we could all have dinner together
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: triangulation triangulation triangulation, self-hatred
Do Not Wants: N/A (just handle it carefully)
Prompt:
[FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
(Anonymous) 2021-12-29 08:29 pm (UTC)(link)Major Tags: infidelity (implied)
Additional Tags: none
Permission to remix: please ask!
*
When Seungcheol proposes to Jeonghan, Joshua is the first to know.
It’s on purpose, he’s sure. It has to be deliberate. Jeonghan’s eyes stay on him as he retells the conversation, laughing as though it’s nothing. Isn’t Seungcheol so funny? It was ridiculous of him to ask, Jeonghan says airily, waving a dismissive hand. It’s not like they can even do it for real.
“So you aren’t going to do it?” Joshua asks, then, unable to keep the words trapped beneath his tongue where they belong, and Jeonghan’s gaze cuts to his, sharp.
“Of course I am,” he answers immediately. Not quite a snap, but close enough. All his humour gone just like that. Joshua smiles at him, blank and bland.
“I’m happy for you, then,” he says, heart slamming against his ribs.
He is.
He is happy.
Why wouldn’t he be happy?
*
“Marriage is such a big step,” Seungkwan says at dinner when Jeonghan tells the group. The words may be careful but his eyes are wide and impressed, clearly excited at the prospect. Jeonghan’s grin is smug, the cat who got the canary. Having his cake and eating it too.
“Well, it’s just Seungcheollie,” he says. “I’ve known him forever, you know. There’s no one I trust more.”
Seungcheol is sitting next to him and ignoring the rest of them to beam at Jeonghan, eyes liquid with emotion, arm not budging from its perpetual rest around his shoulder. Joshua can’t stop staring, imagining the warm weight of it.
Jeonghan is so loved. Has always been so loved.
On the other side of the table Joshua sits next to Junhui, three friendly centimetres between their arms, and says nothing, does nothing. Eats nothing, even when Vernon gestures questioningly towards the grill with the tongs. When Minghao excuses himself for a smoke a little white later he follows him out without a second thought, making an excuse about needing to get some fresh air that no one hears except Junhui next to him, who barely even looks up from his food.
Outside the restaurant Minghao tilts his head in polite bemusement when Joshua comes up next to him, hesitantly offering a cigarette and looking relieved when he refuses. Joshua shoves his hands into his pockets and just stands there. It’s awkward, honestly, but not enough to make him want to go back in.
“You’re not happy for him?” Minghao asks, finally, around an exhaled mouthful of smoke. Joshua freezes.
“Of course I am.”
Minghao doesn't look convinced, a flat expression of disbelief on his face.
“You're out here,” he points out. Joshua’s stomach roils, turning itself into knots. His palms are clammy.
“I am happy for him,” he lies, tasting ash in his mouth. “He's my best friend. I love — I am happy.”
Minghao stares at him as he stubs out his cigarette.
“Okay,” he says, finally. “Do you want to go back inside?”
Joshua doesn’t.
“Sure.”
His mouth forms the word on its own.
*
When it’s time to leave the three of them share a cab, Seungcheol whining and laughing when Jeonghan makes him squeeze into the middle. Joshua stares out the window and wonders if this means Jeonghan is going to move out. Seungcheol isn’t even technically on their lease. Surely they’ll want something more permanent. Something that’s only for them.
Back at the apartment Seungcheol goes to the bathroom first, leaving Joshua and Jeonghan together in the kitchen. Joshua didn’t drink at the restaurant but Jeonghan did — his cheeks are flushed pink with it, an irritated little scowl on his face that means he’s already starting to get a headache.
Joshua’s hand is so much bigger than Jeonghan’s when he passes over a glass of water. They were the same size once, he remembers. He’s broader now, stronger, but Jeonghan is almost as narrow as he was when they were nineteen. His face looks soft and young in the light of the kitchen.
“Are you going to move out?” Joshua asks quietly, taking a sip of his water. “When you guys — you’ll want to get own place, right?”
“Why would we do that?” Jeonghan asks, face impassive, and Joshua flounders.
“Right,” he says, voice weak. “I just thought — ”
“We’re happy here together, aren’t we?” Jeonghan asks, not letting him finish. It isn’t really a question. The way he’s looking at him is making Joshua’s skin itch. The guilt bubbles in his stomach, nauseating and sour.
“Jeonghan,” he blurts out impulsively, setting his glass down on the counter. “I — ”
Jeonghan’s gaze sharpens. He says nothing, a silent challenge as he waits for Joshua to finish.
“I — ” Joshua starts again, trying, but at the look on Jeonghan’s face the words die in his throat. He’s a coward, he realizes. He’ll never say it out loud. He’ll never be able to tell Jeonghan what he did.
The softness from earlier is all gone from Jeonghan’s face, now, his expression obstinately blank. He’ll never admit that he knows, either. Joshua wonders if it’ll be like this forever. If he’ll ever pull himself free.
Between the two of them, he isn’t sure who he hates more.
“Everything okay?” Seungcheol asks, startling both of them as he comes up behind Jeonghan to wrap his arms around his waist. Jeonghan flinches before he relaxes into it, leaning back to rest his head against Seungcheol’s shoulder. Joshua wonders, as he always does, what it would be like to have that for real.
You did, he reminds himself. He did have it, just that once. It’s just that he didn’t do it right.
It’s just that he wasn’t enough.
“Yeah,” he manages, now, his tongue heavy and swollen in his mouth. “Everything’s fine.”
Seungcheol smiles at Joshua, warm and pleasant, before he presses a kiss to Jeonghan’s temple. Joshua smiles back, but Seungcheol doesn’t see it.
“Great,” he replies, already distracted by the curve of Jeonghan’s neck. “I’m glad.”
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
THIS WAS SO RANCID, BABE, IM OBSESSED. JOSH UR GONNA SUFFER FOR THE REST OF UR LIFE IF U KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS. I FEEL CWAZY!!!
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
It’s just that he wasn’t enough. i love u n ur prose n how u paint history behind the barest of lines ugh this is so rich in everything. hate ( a lil towards the self) n guilt n all those fun emotions xoxo the girls are fighting!!
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
Re: [FILL] maybe we could all have dinner together
The softness from earlier is all gone from Jeonghan’s face, now, his expression obstinately blank. He’ll never admit that he knows, either. Joshua wonders if it’ll be like this forever. If he’ll ever pull himself free.
RANCID. also the vibes of jeonghan not releasing his claws even after they get engaged and josh just staying there in that house... god it's so delicious i'm eating your brain
[FILL] French exits for me and you
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Non-famous AU
Permission to remix: Pls ask!
going for rarest pair
***
Junhui entered Wonwoo's bedroom, trailing after Wonwoo like a lost cat.
They had met ten minutes ago. It was Wonwoo’s birthday party, but Soonyoung had organized it, so half the people were dancers and friends of dancers. Wonwoo wasn’t a dancer or a friend of a dancer; he was a graduate student studying playwriting. At least he had been, before something had gone wrong.
“So what are you doing now?” Junhui asked.
“Taking everyone’s coats and stacking them onto the bed,” Wonwoo said, holding up the blue one in his arms that was from a latecomer.
Junhui laughed, startled and delighted at the sarcasm. “No, I mean–”
“I know. I proctor exams.”
Junhui had been very quiet earlier. Right now, though, he was talking fast and laughing often, somewhat nervously. “Sounds helpful. Well, I mean– it’s a necessary job! What kinds of exams?"
“The most recent one was for my former department.”
“Oh!” Junhui’s expression might have been described as intrigued, but that also could’ve just been his wide-eyed casual handsomeness, which made him seem somehow at once utterly unattainable but also only slightly out of reach. “Like an exam about plays?”
“Not exactly– well, from what I could understand, it wasn’t exactly about specific plays.” Now Wonwoo was the nervous one. He sat on the bed next to the coat pile, slowly, like he’d been hypnotized. Junhui stood still for a rare moment, then knelt down on the floor, his face near Wonwoo’s knees. “They were supposed to be writing a paper about a quote from, um, a critic, it was on the development of stage directions, like how the dancing in... wait. This is boring.”
“No, of course not,” Junhui said, smiling. He leaned a little closer. His hand snuck up, curling around Wonwoo’s calf. “And besides, I love listening to people talk. That’s why I came to this. That, and also to dance.”
“Dance." Junhui's hand was very warm. "It’s what you’re studying, right?”
“Right.” Junhui retracted his hand, carded through his caramel colored hair. A few strands stuck up endearingly with static. He put his hand on Wonwoo’s leg again, a little higher. "Will you dance with me sometime?"
"I don't—" His mouth was dry. Junhui's nose bumped his. His breathing was slow, deliberate. He closed his eyes because he wasn't sure what was happening or why. "I don't really—"
“Junhui?”
They sprang apart but not far enough. Someone new was at the bedroom door. He was in a scarf and gloves and had just come in from the snow. He glanced at Wonwoo, then at Junhui.
“You never told me you were going to be here this late,” the newcomer said icily.
“Sorry, Minghao,” Junhui muttered.
This time Minghao looked straight at Wonwoo even as he spoke to Junhui, stonefaced, appraising.
“You have class tomorrow morning. You can’t afford to waste time this late in the year.”
Junhui retracted himself from Wonwoo, from the easy lightness of his being, receding somewhere into his previous quiet and subdued self. He stood before Wonwoo could, but he looked over his shoulder as Minghao led him out, his face baleful.
***
Later Wonwoo was in the bathroom, sitting on the sink and smoking next to the open window, when someone knocked.
“Occupied,” he said.
“It’s Xu Minghao.”
Wonwoo stayed silent.
The voice was strangely insistent when it asked, “Wonwoo? Are you in there?”
“You and Junhui are both still here?”
“I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
Wonwoo gave it a second. Then he sighed, flicked the cigarette out of the window, then hopped off the sink and opened the door a sliver. Minghao poked his head in, looking strangely disheveled compared to half an hour ago. His nose was pink.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday party,” he said.
Wonwoo shrugged. He felt like disappearing even more than usual when Minghao came in, shut the door behind him, stood near. In the moonlight through the window Minghao looked softer than before. Kinder. Wonwoo had seen him a few times before but they’d never talked.
“Happy birthday,” Minghao said.
“Thanks.”
“I heard from Soonyoung you were away last year.”
Wonwoo stiffened. Shrugged.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m glad you’re glad.”
Minghao nodded, uncrossed and recrossed his arms.
“We’ve been together for four years, Junhui and I," he said. "We’re going— we’re going through a rough patch.”
He looked out the open window. He sighed, soft and slow. He didn’t strike Wonwoo as someone who would share something like this apropos of nothing. He seemed to be someone who cared infinitely about appearances, about clean and pretty exits and entrances.
“A rough patch,” Wonwoo repeated.
Minghao nodded a small, tight nod. He was fighting to stay composed. He reminded Wonwoo of one of the conventions of playwriting. It’s more interesting to watch someone try not to fall apart than to watch them fall apart.
“Well, Junhui’s still here.”
“Okay. And?”
“And he wanted to talk to you,” Minghao said, for the first time looking solidly unsure of himself.
“Why?”
“Because he thought you were interesting.”
Wonwoo blinked with genuine surprise.
“Me? He thought— he called me interesting?”
Minghao said nothing, only looked at him for an extra beat. The uncertainty in his eyes blinkered somehow. He opened the door and waited halfway over the threshold.
***
At two, Minghao entered the kitchen to pour himself a drink.
Junhui had been observing Wonwoo clean shotglasses quietly in one corner, talking as if they were alone, describing the final showcase he was preparing for. A little bit ago when the music was still playing he’d twirled around in the living room in his socked feet, looking at Wonwoo ever so often. His face was still flushed from then. The night felt like a dance Wonwoo could have nearly followed if he was the kind of person who didn’t think about things too hard. When Minghao came in the room felt hotter. Lines of tension. A stage.
“Enough about me,” Junhui said loudly.
He bit his lip, smiled. He backed away, jumped on top of the counter, his legs swinging back and forth. Wonwoo was acutely aware of Minghao a few feet away, standing there and pretending he wasn’t listening. Almost everybody had gone home. It was just them. Wonwoo had never been in a situation like this before. It felt messy. It felt, perversely, a little fun. His hands gripped the edge of the wet counter behind him to steady himself.
“Okay. What do you want to know.”
"How old are you turning?"
Wonwoo grimaced. "Older than Chekhov when—"
"Bad question! Never mind. Um, how did you meet Soonyoung?"
"We met when we were both eight. In a talent show. We were inseparable after that, decided to apply to university together and everything."
“Where did you go when you took a break from school?”
Over across the room, Minghao went very still.
Wonwoo did, too, before he shrugged in a violent, awkward jerky motion and smiled.
Junhui immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing. “Um, do you – I mean, were you working on a play? Or– writing something?”
“I wasn't. I haven't written anything in—”
“—sorry. Bad question again, huh. I'm better at this usually." Junhui picked a shotglass up, put it down. Shook his head. "Just– hey, it's your birthday, we should—"
“Yeah,” Wonwoo muttered. “Fuck. It’s my birthday.”
Minghao had come closer to their corner. Something smelled like rubbing alcohol. Wonwoo knew it wasn’t, it was probably just the cheap vodka Soonyoung liked to buy, and Minghao had just made a drink with it, but it smelled like rubbing alcohol. Like a hospital. He knew it wasn’t, he knew it was his own birthday party, he was in his apartment, he was in the kitchen. All the same something gave up in him. He blinked once and he had somehow slid gradually to the ground. His back was against the cabinets.
It was darker down on the floor, and quiet. The smell was gone. He took a deep breath.
“Wonwoo."
He wasn't sure who said it. “Had too much to drink,” he mumbled, but there were tears in his eyes, and he tipped his head back against the cabinet.
In his blurry periphery Junhui slid off the counter, smooth as an animal, and sat down across from him. Their ankles knocked together. Wonwoo looked to his side. Minghao was there, too.
“I think it’s normal to feel this way sometimes,” Junhui said, even though Wonwoo hadn’t said anything about feeling any way at all. “Sometimes I want to give up dancing.”
“I thought you said you loved dancing.”
“Do you love writing?”
Wonwoo wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
“Of course I do.”
Minghao's cold finger touched Wonwoo’s cheek, where the dampness was drying, and stroked back and forth so softly that Wonwoo had to grit his teeth to keep from shivering. Some complicated, prickly, warm understanding and acceptance had filled Minghao's face. Something brushed the side of Wonwoo’s neck. Junhui's lips. A hand on Wonwoo's thigh, a thumb at his mouth, a knee pressing into his waist.
“Tell Junhui one thing you love about it," Minghao said into his ear, soft and sure.
Wonwoo stayed very still and thought about saying, French scenes. You write exits and entrances and tick-tick-tick, everything goes by so beautifully. People come and go and come and go. It gets messy, but not too messy. Everyone has a clean exit. Everybody knows exactly where they need to be and why. I'm running out of time. I'm getting old and I'm running out of time. Maybe we should stay here a little bit longer, the three of us.
Re: [FILL] French exits for me and you
Re: [FILL] French exits for me and you
He reminded Wonwoo of one of the conventions of playwriting. It’s more interesting to watch someone try not to fall apart than to watch them fall apart. i also think how you put in things like this is so cool, it really feels like you have such a good understanding of story conventions and writing techniques and it adds a meta element that almost highlights why exactly your writing is so good LOL. thank you for the treat <3
Re: [FILL] French exits for me and you
[FILL] tunnel vision
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: oh you're in a queer relationship? which one of you is polyamorous and which one of you is pretending to be ok with it?, inspired by the gyuhao busan fiasco of 2022
Permission to remix: please ask
yes i'm aware it's july
***
They look beautiful on the boat. They shouldn’t, given how they’re squinting a little in the sunlight, but they do. Minghao’s got an arm slung over Mingyu’s too-broad shoulders, and one of Mingyu’s hands is in his hair. Everything about them is sharp, angled and neat and perfect. They’re standing close to each other, but not too close. There’s a gap between them, where Minghao’s shoulder is tightened awkwardly. A courtesy to Seokmin, perhaps. To soften the blow of his partner going for a weekend away with a man that isn’t him.
They shouldn’t have. There’s no point. At the end of the day, the warm glow of the sun still lightens their faces, while Seokmin lies in bed in the dark, cold and alone.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been looking at the Instagram post, swiping from picture to picture. He doesn’t even follow Mingyu, technically - he didn’t want to give Minghao the satisfaction. But then Minghao had posted some pictures of himself and Seokmin couldn’t help himself. Mingyu must have taken the photos of Minghao that he posted, and that knowledge makes Seokmin feel sick. It’s horrific, knowing that someone else sees Minghao as tenderly and vividly as he does - it’s like Mingyu has walked through his head and stripped him of his memories, posting them online for everyone to see. Seokmin has to know the whole story, to try and steal back some of their joy through the screen. Isn’t it greedy of them to keep it all for themselves?
In a way, of course, it’s all his fault. Minghao had said from the start that he would keep his options open, explaining it all to Seokmin very clearly. But Seokmin was greedy, and an ounce of tenderness was worth more than a life of loyalty. All he needed was love, and Minghao gave it to him. He feasted on every shy giggle and swooping kiss that Minghao had to offer, gorging himself like he would never get enough. He whispered sweet nothings into Minghao’s ear, honey filling his cheeks, cloying on the tongue. Minghao was everywhere and everything, and Seokmin knew nothing else - he was bursting at the seams with love.
Then Minghao met Mingyu. Who’s perfectly nice, by the way. The only issue that Seokmin has with him is that Minghao loves him. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t. They have similar interests, and Mingyu’s kind and handsome. Seokmin’s only met him a few times, but all those times Minghao looked at him like he was a gift to unwrap layer by layer. It makes sense, even Seokmin realises that now. He thought nothing of it at first, willing himself to believe it was all fine, until Minghao told him that he wanted to ‘give it a try’ with Mingyu.
And now Seokmin is nothing. He can only build himself up under Minghao’s loving gaze, so now he’s crumbling. He waits, eager and foolish, for scraps of affection like a dog at the dinner table. He’s starved of Minghao’s touch, so much so that he aches with it. Anything will do, really - could he be an afterthought at the very least?
Seokmin’s selfish, he knows that. He doesn’t want to be. He knows he should be good and kind and not want too much. It scares him sometimes, his jealousy. It’s an ugly feeling and he knows it, but it swells in him with all the force of the sea, a tidal wave that could swallow Minghao whole. Maybe then he could keep Minghao for himself. Minghao still loves him - or at least, he says as much - but is it a crime to want to be sure? Is it really so terrible to want to be more than Mingyu?
Minghao’s too good. That's the real problem. Minghao’s too good, and that's why he wants someone like Mingyu, someone who's always just as good. Sometimes, Seokmin wishes that Minghao were worse, or at least just bad enough to still want him. But Mingyu makes him better and happier and brighter, and Seokmin is sick of it.
He swipes through the post again, this time looking at a video. They’re in life vests on the boat, playing a game of rock paper scissors. At one point, Mingyu runs his fingers down Minghao’s arm. Has he memorised the shape of it like Seokmin has? Does he know each dip of muscle, the softness of his skin, the gentle curve of his shoulder? Mingyu loses the game of rock paper scissors, and he jumps into the water without hesitation. Seokmin would have trembled and stalled for at least half an hour. Would Minghao giggle with unbridled glee like he’s doing with Mingyu, or would he just be irritated? Is Mingyu braver than Seokmin? Is he better than Seokmin? Is Minghao happier with him, more at peace?
Why is Mingyu the one making Minghao happy? Why can’t Seokmin do that himself?
The video plays on and on, and Seokmin’s eyes burn when he blinks. Before he can let himself think too much, he types out a quick comment on the post. It must be really nice, with a little emoji, and he means it. It must be nice to hear Minghao’s laugh for real, instead of imagining it while watching a soundless video. It must be nice to see his mouth curve into a pretty smile, to cause it. It must be nice to be on the open sea, on a vast nothingness with the only person that matters. But nice isn't right, it isn't big enough to capture what being with Minghao is like. Does Mingyu even know how good he has it? Does Mingyu hunger the way Seokmin does?
Maybe it's petty or selfish or something, but he posts the comment and puts his phone away. It's not meant to be a threat or anything, just a reminder - I was here first. You can have him all you want, but I was here first and I’m still here now. When you look at him, remember I’m there too.
For now, at least, he feels a little better. In this small way, Minghao is still his.
Re: [FILL] tunnel vision
And now Seokmin is nothing. He can only build himself up under Minghao’s loving gaze, so now he’s crumbling. RIP what are we without love? what are we when nobody is looking at us, when we are just for ourselves? ah, good questions.
Is Mingyu braver than Seokmin? Is he better than Seokmin? Is Minghao happier with him, more at peace? mmmm the self doubt, the hate for someone who seems better at making the people you love happy.
i'm insane thanks a lot <3
Re: [FILL] tunnel vision
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