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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[FILL] we'll try again
Major Tags: mentions of death and war
Additional Tags: this is about God and seokmin and oranges
Permission to remix: Please ask
Word count: 1342
dear cat, i have no idea what this is anymore. enjoy
***
Mingyu doesn’t believe in God. It’s hard to believe in anything when all he does is go to war. For weeks at a time, he goes to hold off the monsters that have escaped from labs around the world to plague humanity. He pushes himself to breaking point so that people can have at least one more day. He fights until all he knows is the searing pain in his muscles, until his hands form a grip even when he lets go of his gun. He loses people almost every day - friends, family, colleagues. When he looks around, all he sees is the world he loves crumbling to nothing. What merciful, fatherly God would let his children live like this? What nurturing, all-forgiving God would punish the world like this?
So no, he doesn’t believe in God. He believes in what’s around him. He believes in the shadows of his fellow fighters that he can just about see in the dark, standing tall and proud near him until they are felled. He believes in Seokmin, who tends the wounded for a living and yet never quite loses his lustre by the time he gets home.
Seokmin is what he’s thinking about when he turns up at home on his leave. He’s exhausted, each muscle in his body screaming with pain, and he wants nothing more than to lie next to Seokmin and think of nothing at all until he’s called again. Seokmin will offer him water and food and the soft palms of his hands and Mingyu will take it all. Believing in this, Mingyu uses all of his remaining strength and opens the door.
“Seokmin-ah,” he calls, “I’m back.”
Seokmin is on the couch, reading a book. He stiffens when he hears Mingyu’s voice, taking a moment before looking up.
“Oh,” he says, and that’s not what Mingyu expected to hear. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Mingyu tries again, dumping his bag near the door.
Seokmin’s face doesn’t change. He puts his book down and shifts a little on the couch.
“Do you want something to eat?” Seokmin asks, but it feels more like a hoop he has to jump through.
Mingyu doesn’t know. He’s lost his appetite all of a sudden. “I think I’ll just head in the shower,” he replies, trying not to show how despondent he feels.
Seokmin just nods, pursing his lips a little, before picking up his book again. Mingyu heads to their bedroom to reach the small en-suite and bang his head against the door, before actually taking a shower.
It’s not like he’s forgotten about their argument right before Mingyu went to fight again. It was about Mingyu fighting, actually - Seokmin wanted to know why Mingyu didn’t just retire, and Mingyu was adamant that he had to keep helping. It was a horrible note to leave on, really. Neither of them spoke as Mingyu went out of the door, his bag heavy but his heart heavier. It wasn’t until Mingyu was in the thick of it, deep in the muck and death of war, that he realised that if he never came home, his and Seokmin’s last words to each other would have been rancorous. Neither of them deserved that. But that was what they did to each other - they tore each other apart until their bed felt ice-cold, and Mingyu walked out of the door anyway.
He only hopes that Seokmin will let him back in now.
The shower refreshes him as much as a corpse can be rejuvenated, and he steps out, wearing his own jogging bottoms and Seokmin’s T-shirt (large for Seokmin, perfect for Mingyu). Seokmin isn’t in the living room and so, only mildly panicking, Mingyu makes his way over to the kitchen. Thankfully, Seokmin’s there, back to the door, peeling an orange over a plate on the counter.
Seokmin is so good at peeling oranges. It’s an odd talent to have, but it’s a marvel to watch. He digs his nails in, incisive, stripping it of its peel with his long fingers in one fluid motion, and it comes off whole. But the thing with Seokmin is that he is never usually as incisive and confident as this. Whenever something upsets him, he retreats and gets shy and doesn’t like talking about it, especially if it’s Mingyu that’s upset him. If he does choose to talk about it, it’s awkward and jagged, each word hesitant. He’s always so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing - it’s taken Mingyu years to figure that out.
Sometimes it feels like Seokmin is only ever sure of himself when he peels oranges.
“Mingyu-yah,” Seokmin calls out suddenly, like he’s sensed Mingyu darkening the doorway, “just head to the living room, please. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Mingyu nods, even though he knows Seokmin can’t see him, and moves to sit on the couch. The air still feels heavy and bitter on his tongue, and he doesn’t really know what to do from here. Will Seokmin keep pretending that their argument never happened? Will Mingyu? Which of them will break first? Which of them will cry?
It doesn’t take too long for Seokmin to appear, clear in his line of vision. He’s holding a plate laden with orange pieces, ripe and inviting and smelling sickly-sweet. He sits down on the couch next to Mingyu, and only now does Mingyu notice the tightness of his jaw, the gentle pain in his eyes. Mingyu wants to hold Seokmin’s shoulder, or his hands, or his face, but something tells him now isn’t the moment. He just looks Seokmin in the eye, waiting for him to speak.
“Mingyu-yah,” Seokmin says, voice straining, “you made me cry.”
Seokmin could be talking about anything. He could be talking about their fight - he did cry then. He could be talking about when Mingyu decided to go to battle anyway - he did cry then. He could be talking about the days when Mingyu was away - Mingyu didn’t know for sure, but he could have cried then.
“Yeah. I know,” Mingyu replies. Then he says, “You weren’t kind to me either, though.”
“Yeah. I know.”
There’s a beat of silence. All the words that Mingyu hasn't said swirl around his throat and bash at his skull.
He tries to let some of the words out. “I think we should talk ab-”
“Now?” Seokmin interrupts, imploring. “Can’t we do that later? Can’t I just have you back for a while? Can’t I have you for myself, please?”
And Mingyu always knew that Seokmin missed him just as much as he missed Seokmin, but this is the closest he’ll get to hearing it said loud and clear, and something twists deep in his gut.
“Yeah," he replies. “Yeah. I want you with me too.”
He doesn’t say I missed you. He hopes Seokmin hears it.
Seokmin’s lips move in a vague imitation of a smile, and he holds the plate of oranges out towards Mingyu. “If you’re going to go around fighting battles, you need some Vitamin C.”
Mingyu smiles, and tries not to cry too. The movement makes his brain and lips hurt. He takes a piece of orange from the plate. It’s ripe and ready to burst with its own juice, and it’s the brightest thing Mingyu has seen in weeks that isn’t Seokmin. He bites it - there’s an explosion of sharpness in his mouth that almost stings, and then the sweetness rushes through. It’s been a while since Mingyu has had something sweet. It’s been a while since he’s let himself.
Seokmin gives him a weak half-smile as he eats, and eventually he picks up a piece of orange and eats it too. And Mingyu doesn’t believe in God, but for a ridiculous moment he thinks that he’s found God here; here, in his lover’s orange-scented hands, the hands that hold him and caress him and forgive him again and again. Not the immediate, all-encompassing forgiveness of a deity, but the kind of forgiveness that takes work, the kind that says we’ll try again, we’ll try again, I’m still with you, don’t worry. The kind that Mingyu could believe in.
Re: [FILL] we'll try again
my most favorite exchange
“Now?” Seokmin interrupts, imploring. “Can’t we do that later? Can’t I just have you back for a while? Can’t I have you for myself, please?”
And Mingyu always knew that Seokmin missed him just as much as he missed Seokmin, but this is the closest he’ll get to hearing it said loud and clear, and something twists deep in his gut.
“Yeah," he replies. “Yeah. I want you with me too.” U DUMB PUPPIES!! HUG IT OUT! USE UR WORDS!
Re: [FILL] we'll try again