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!
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[FILL] He Stays for Breakfast
Major Tags: open ending
Additional Tags: unrequited love
Permission to remix: Yes
There’s only about a third of Mingyu’s iced Latte left. He’s pretending to read something on his phone, because it’s embarrassing to be found just waiting, but in actuality, he’s just staring at the screen. He’s checked out of the large windows dozens of times now and the sky is the color that always gives him a headache, brilliant and torturing.
He’s coming, Mingyu knows this. Minghao is never late or –well, never has been (maybe just so he gets to hold everyone else to the same standard) But even if he’s late, he’s coming. He’d never not come without telling him first. Maybe that’s a problem too, the mere fact that he’s coming. But also that he’s late, because now Mingyu has to get ready to meet him again and again, every second again mentally prepare to look into that very pretty face and figure out how to handle it after months of not having it.
Mingyu is anxious.
Anxious enough that he’s bought an iced latte in December, because he’d spaced out at the counter until the kind barista had verbally asked for his attention.
He takes another big sip, until nothing fits into his mouth unless he hollows out his cheeks and swallows. Then he chokes, because someone enters and it’s for nothing, because it isn’t Minghao.
In his mind he has entered the café at least five times. Imaginary Minghao is wearing a long coat and a long scarf, because that is what he used to wear when they’d meet here. Everything he wore would make him even longer. The stylists had not once put him in cuffed jeans, Mingyu remembers.
The real Minghao pulls him away from the imagination. This one has a voice and a body and his hair is significantly longer.
„Hello. I’m sorry I’m late.“ Minghao says in his horribly soft and monotone voice. „I couldn’t find the way.“ There’s no time or space to awkwardly greet him back, because Minghao has already turned away to face the clothing hangers.
Gracefully, he wiggles out of his jacket. It looks expensive. He looks expensive. Every moment Minghao lives could make for a candid-type spread in Elle.
„Do you want to get something to drink?“ Mingyu asks to distract himself. „Yes. I–“ his eyes fall on the tragically empty Iced Latte sitting on the edge of the table. „Should I get you something as well?“
It feels judgmental. „I’m good.“ Mingyu answers, a little too quickly, just so he doesn’t look like a glutton. „Good. I’ll be right back.“
Mingyu winces. He watches Minghao leave for the counter. He finishes his drink. The emotional ‚I missed you‘ kiss he’d fantasized the night before never comes.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
Minghao is drinking tea; Mingyu is unsure of why exactly they needed to go to a vegan café for this.
„How was China?“
„Very good.“ Mingyu shows off in Mandarin. Minghao smiles, which is exactly the reaction he hoped for. Something in his eyes is missing.
„Way to know the very basics. I’m impressed. I would’ve thought you’d be more fluent after four months.“ The teasing doesn’t really land.
„I liked it.“ Mingyu answers the original question. Minghao got him an extra cup to try the tea and his fingers nervously play around the hot porcelain.
„Everyone was very kind. And impressed by my hight. Even more so than here –“ somehow, he doesn’t remember how close they are. Which conversation topics are appropriate. Mingyu doesn’t know what to say, so he falls back on to work.
„I got to shoot for GQ. Just a small spread, almost nothing.“
Minghao’s gaze is distant, but he smiles genuinely.
„That’s amazing. Congratulations.“
And even though it’s the perfect reaction, it stings bittersweet. When Mingyu came ‚home‘ after the job, he’d laid in bed and wondered what Minghao would’ve looked like in the long silk robes. What he would’ve said in any given conversation with the rest of the staff. If he would’ve sneezed at the excessive powder like the present model had.
He wants Minghao to be jealous like he would’ve been. And he wants Minghao to have missed him like he has. He wants to hear that he was lonely, that he was craving his touch and their conversations.
But Minghao is happy for him. He doesn’t engage with their separation further than that.
It’s the worst.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
They met two years ago on a set. Mingyu fell over the wiring of the extra extra screens and Minghao helped him clean the rosé colored tulle skirt intended for model #4. And even though Minghao had sneered at the unprofessionalism of the assistant’s assistant, he’d taken him out for coffee the Saturday after.
On their second date, Minghao had revealed he didn’t do dating right now („I don’t want to lead you on.“) and Mingyu had pretended to agree with the sentiment, just so it didn’t have to become awkward. For not doing dating, he dated Mingyu for a long time before allowing him to take him to bed.
Two hopeless romantics not-dating wasn’t a recipe for that type of relationship to work out, but they tried their best. Mingyu only bought him flowers once, they wouldn’t cry in front each other and they wouldn’t talk about family.
Whenever Mingyu came to pick him up after work and softly kissed him in the privacy of his car, he’d secretly think to himself it was only a matter of time.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
„You deleted your private instagram.“
„Haha, I just didn’t really have a use for it anymore.“ Mingyu lies.
„I would’ve liked to see updates from China, that’s why I checked…“ Minghao says, because he needs a surface level reason to check after his non-lover.
„I didn’t take many photos anyways.“ Mingyu says.
„I mean – outside of work, I didn’t. And they’re on my camera, I was just too lazy to upload them. I don’t have it with me right now, I’ll show you next time! It’s things you’ve seen before –“
He used to be better at bullshitting. There was a point where it became clear that more often than not Minghao could see right through him, so Mingyu stopped lying. For the most part.
But longing after a non-lover is pathetic and so is deleting an instagram because you can’t bear the notification of Xu Minghao liking your picture, nor the pressure of knowing. He might, any minute, watch your story and potentially find it tacky. Or cliché in a bad way. Or, worst, swipe it away after just a second without any positive or negative feelings attached to the piece of mind Mingyu shared. And everything he shares, he shares for Minghao to see.
„– anyways. Only so many ways to capture a bridge.“
Minghao winces at his fake excuse. He doesn’t even hide it.
A silence hangs like fog over their small table, both of them are staring into the tinted liquid of their tea. For some reason Mingyu feels like crying. He won’t take Minghao home tonight, will he.
„I’ve been wanting to talk.“
„It’s better to do it in person.“ Mingyu takes the sentence out of his mouth. He doesn’t want Minghao to get the satisfaction of vomiting some pre-written blank text.
He’d always thought if they skipped the feelings, they could skip this part too.
„I’m seeing someone seriously now.“
Mingyu nods before the words have even registered in his brain. He doesn’t dare look up.
„That’s fine.“
He knows his voice is betraying his bruised ego, never having been good at hiding the ugly emotions: dull pain and anger mix into contempt.
„I just wanted to talk about it.“ Minghao’s voice gets smaller.
„I know it’s a weird timing.“ He says empathetically.
„I guess.“
It’s uncomfortable. Mingyu doesn’t want to take part int this conversation, especially when Minghao already knows what he’s thinking. They both know.
„I mean – what is there to talk about, really.“ Mingyu opens.
„I don’t knows why…“ he falters. „…we’re making such a serious thing out of this.“ He leans back. „It’s honestly fine. It was…“
Their eyes meet.
„Unpredictable.“ Minghao finishes for him.
„Sometimes the right person just comes along.“ Mingyu says, as naturally as possible.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
Sometimes the right person just comes along.
It was supposed to be him, though, an exception to Minghao’s little rule.
Minghao didn’t want to date, especially not people from the field. An unfortunate breakup could jeopardize his career, he’d said and Mingyu had accepted that. He’d agreed, even. Getting feelings involved complicated this hopeless job even more; He’d been told by a production manager once that dating models was detrimental to any career and Mingyu, chasing acceptance as he did, was proud to take this advice.
He had felt exemplary, almost commendable (ignoring how Minghao was the driving force in this decision). They were putting their careers first, like real adults. Now he could say „I could’ve dated a model, but I didn’t. For my career.“ Didn’t that add some credibility to his name?
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
Minghao had liked spending time at his apartment. He’d pretended to be better than his real reason, citing the natural lighting was beneficial to his sleep cycle, but Mingyu knew it was the portafilter machine and Mingyu’s handmade pancake batter that had Minghao coming back to wake up in Mingyu’s bed for days on end.
In the cold days Mingyu pays extra heating bills to keep Minghao warm.
None of it is one sided, which drives Mingyu even further. Sometimes, Minghao brings groceries unasked from his favorite gourmet store. He stacks Mingyu’s shelves with books and annotates the parts he cares about. At night, he’ll share him parts of Chinese poems that move him; it’s one of Mingyu’s favorite parts about Minghao, how easily he’s impacted by art.
It’s impossible not to want more.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
„Is this the only reason we’re meeting?“ Mingyu asks. „I’ve better things to do. This could’ve happened over text.“
Minghao’s eyes narrow. „If I’d known you’d be this weird about it I would’ve done it over text.“
„Great. Why didn’t you do it while I was in China?“
„I didn’t plan for it to get this serious – I… every possible timing would’ve been just as uncomfortable.“
Every possible timing would’ve been better than coming home to this, Mingyu wants to say, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. He finishes his tea (It’s very nice, because Minghao has good taste in everything) and pulls on his coat and his wool hat.
Then he thanks Minghao for telling him and leaves the café. Outside, he looks back at their table through the glass and as his eyes linger on Minghao’s dyed hair he can’t help but wonder in misery, when exactly he’s deluded himself into the idea of them being in love.
The hardcover book of traditional Chinese poems he’s found in a Chengdu vintage bookstore sits heavily in his bag.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
‚We were all surprised when they showed up together.‘ Soonyoung had explained while chewing on the Steak Mingyu made for him (he keeps track of all his friend’s favorite temperatures).
Minghao’s boyfriend is fifteen years older than them. He must’ve known Mingyu would judge him for it – and he does.
The guy an artist, which is all Mingyu needs to know about the situation, but Soonyoung is bad at reading social cues, so he info-dumps until Mingyu asks about the studio and breaks his monologue.
So you’re into older guys now?/
Mingyu types and deletes.
Did you just want to have a backup?/
You can still come over, I don’t mind if you’re with him. I won’t tell./
He stares at the message thumb hovering over the ‚send’-button until his phone screen turns dark.
˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡°.𓆞 ·˙
‚Found this on my trip‘ says the sticky note on the collection of poems. He’s skillfully wrapped the book in expensive red gift-paper. Next to it he places the leftovers (in actuality, he calculated Minghao in the portioning) of last nights stir-fry Szechuan chicken. He leaves both on the metal Mailboxes of Minghao’s apartment complex.
When Minghao returns the Tupperware the following Sunday, he stays for breakfast.
Re: [FILL] He Stays for Breakfast