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!
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we will fade away
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: the end of a relationship, looking back at a former love
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
[FILL]: we will fade away
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: the end of a relationship, looking back at a former love, realizing that the person you love doesn't love you as much as you do, angst this is angst
Permission to remix: Please ask
this is uhm. very personal. hope you don't mind <3
***
“Of course we can still keep in touch,” Soonyoung reassures him that night, while Seokmin cries all his tears, kneeling on what has been their bed until that day, and it soon will be only Seokmin’s.
It strikes him like lightning, fast, deadly. Unavoidable. One moment they are Soonyoung and Seokmin, the other they are no more. It’s scary how the world can change in less than a few words.
“Seokmin-ah, I don’t think we’re good for each other anymore.”
Seokmin stares, crestfallen. Soonyoung isn’t looking at him, eyes on the ceiling as he tries to contain his tears. “I love you, you know I do.”
“Do you, do you really?” Seokmin wants to ask, but he just sucks his bottom lip in his mouth, an easy “alright” coming out of him. “Alright, hyung. If you think so.”
“I’m so sorry, Seokmin-ah.”
Seokmin doesn’t cry until that night, when they slip in their shared bed and the realization of what is about to come dawns on him, making him shake with the force of his hiccups.
Soonyoung holds him through the worst of it, gentle shushing and “I’m sorry”s whispered into his hair, but Seokmin doesn’t know what to do with his apologies, he doesn't know where to fit them when his heart is so full with desperation and sudden loneliness.
So he lets them hang in the air, and accepts the promises of friendship, the white lies that Soonyoung whispers into his skin together with placating small kisses.
It takes two weeks for Soonyoung to move out; Seokmin never cries again in front of him, not even when they hug goodbye and Soonyoung hides his face against his collarbone, soaking his shirt with tears.
When the door bangs closed on its hinges, hiding Soonyoung from view, that’s when he lets himself fall to the floor and sob until no more tears come out, left dry, a shell of himself for a lonely passerby to pick up.
It strikes him like lightning again, a few months later, that Soonyoung never intended to be his friend; that he never was, to begin with.
It’s a reality more heartbreaking than the breakup, when Seokmin considered him to be his best friend above all else; even before they were boyfriends, Soonyoung was his partner in crime, the person that knew him the best.
Now they’re almost strangers, a few text messages exchanged over time just for sterile conversation that feels forced, useless.
It hurts, because despite everything, Seokmin really believed those lies; he believed in being loved beyond the romantic bond that tied him to Soonyoung, he believed in having someone that cared for him, despite the end of their relationship.
He was wrong.
There’s no excuse for Soonyoung. The fallout of their love has been slow and painful, but neither of them could be blamed for that.
The feelings that once made the memory of Soonyoung sweet make it turn sour.
Being strangers would be better than whatever there is between them now, that sort of awkward limbo that has them stopping to exchange a few pleasantries and dry words with each other every time they meet, forced out laughs and shifting gazes.
Being strangers would mean Seokmin could forget the way Soonyoung ripped his heart out and walked all over it, pretending that he cared for Seokmin as a person when all he cared for was to have someone who loved him as he wanted to be loved at his side.
And when Seokmin wasn’t that someone anymore, Soonyoung moved on and left him to lick his own wounds, not caring for his broken heart, for his ruined plans. Not caring for whatever ashes he left in his wake.
They’re everything but strangers; the hurt stays, festers, grows roots deep, sinking in the most tender parts of him. Seokmin holds it close to his heart, a reminder to never trust someone’s love ever so easily.
Even if he wanted to forget, he couldn’t. Not when he lost his best friend and his lover in the same breath. Not when all he’s left with are washed out memories of a love that is starting to fade from his heart.
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
wow... ow...
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
Re: [FILL]: we will fade away
[FILL] afterward
Major Tags: past relationships
Additional Tags: uhhh "rich SKY graduates" au, looking back on a former love
Permission to remix: Yes
Dinner with Joshua is perfectly pleasant, but that's to be expected.
It had been hastily scheduled, too late in the evening to be considered anything but ye xiao. Truthfully, it's an imposition—Minghao's team is in the middle of a due diligence operation of some delicacy—but Joshua has always been like that: a cheerfully rude guy, smiling at his own audacity. Knowing that Minghao will always come, should he call.
"I missed you, Myungho-yah," he says, his foot like a brand against Minghao's silken pant-leg. "How have you been?"
Better since you left.
"Hyung first."
It isn't until they're waiting for the valet that the true objective of the meeting comes to light.
Joshua sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He says, casual as ever: "I'm getting married."
Minghao stares at him incredulously. "Married."
"She's a nice girl," Joshua says, that indulgent grin never leaving his face. The one that'd charmed half of Yonsei. "I don't fight with her like I used to fight with you. Actually, we don't fight at all."
"You mean," Minghao says steadily, "she doesn't have the stomach to fight with you."
A car honks and drives around them in the street, tires screeching.
"Never mind," Minghao mutters, and turns to go. Joshua tugs him back with a hand on his wrist. They're still obscenely large, the part Minghao hates most about himself notes.
"I'm at The Peninsula," Joshua says gently. "Until Seollal. You can call the front desk, I'll leave a message for them to put you through."
His eyes are clear. "You'll call, right? To let me know how I can put things right."
There are several things Minghao can say to that, but the only retort that comes to mind feels foolish, asinine. A petulant child.
The attendant hurries to exit the driver's seat as Minghao pulls open the door. Joshua is still talking, but the car engine drowns him out. It could be anything, Minghao tells himself. His Korean isn't as good as it once was, not that it had been adequate for anything other than taking taxis, ordering liquor, or reading the children's books that were assigned at hagwon.
(Sonagi, Joshua said once, head bent over the yellow chapbook, is about waiting to return—)
When Minghao undresses in front of his mirror later, his eyes catch on the ring that hangs in the center of his chest. A circle of dark silver—possibly fake, some kind of cheaper alloy. Joshua hadn't had a lot of money back then.
He undoes the clasp of the chain with numb fingers. The fish hook keeps slipping away from him, and he feels a surge of temper. He ought to just rip it off, fling it into the bottom-most corner of his boudoir cabinet where even the maids can't be bothered to dust. That's where the ring belongs, along with old friends and empty promises. Promises Joshua had broken as soon as Minghao was out of earshot.
In those days, they talked of it all the time. Joshua would join him in Hong Kong after graduation. There were all kinds of international firms, places where Koreans could carve out a good living with their wits and their language skills—especially if they were proficient at English. It would be an adventure, a thing Joshua had always maintained he desired most in the world.
Other than Myungho, he said, of course.
On the day Joshua was supposed to arrive, Minghao had waited at the terminal for hours—through sunset, through the last night flights, the Boeings taking off bound for Dubai. But Joshua had never shown, and Minghao had too much pride to beg.
Sometimes he wonders if that's strength or weakness talking.
In the morning he tells his assistant to look up the number for The Peninsula Hotel.
"The general manager?" she asks, holding a hand over the receiver.
"Yes," Minghao says, then: "No. The front desk. Leave a message for one of their guests." Of congratulations.
Bury me in that dress, Joshua had said, reading deliberately so Minghao could understand. They had finished making love for the second time that night, and Joshua was finally unwinding, finally slowing so Minghao could catch up. The light caught in the lenses of his glasses and grew oily, rotating in a circle around the bifocal line. The dress I wore the day I met you.
Re: [FILL] afterward