Where is the tender softboi f. Scott Fitzgerald and macho Earnest Hemingway fanfiction we all deserve
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starter for @solisocasum
“You scratched me!”, Junseo screeches. He moves in a theatrical display of the unbearable pain caused by the other. When they step closer, he rips away from them, throwing his arms out as to say to the world ‘I’m here, I’m hurt, and this motherfucker did it.’ “Do I look like I sell that kind of shit?! I’m a good citizen of this country. I pay taxes. My father --” He stops himself at the mention of his father and dodges another attempt to be silenced.
His finger now points to the faint red line trailing down his cheek. “I’ll have you pay for this.” As usual, Junseo is half serious, accompanying his words with a wide grin.
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starter for @manticxre
The smoke burns through his lungs. He exhales the smoke into the room, and remembers how in his early days of smoking, he would have fallen into a coughing fit by now. Haneul is uncomfortable to be in this room. The air is thick with the smell of human negligance. Objects lay scattered around, dirty laundry crunched on the floor, plates and pots stacked on tables and windowsils. He presses his cigarette into the dried pool of oil in a pan.
“What did she steal from you again?”, he asks, not particularily looking at anything again. The detail of the scene leaves him nauseated, but he is a little drunk, and a little careless too.
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heyyyy gîrls gays and theys.
I’ve been a little absent lately both on tumblr and on discord. But I love you all and I’ll try to get some stuff done!!
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“I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against the same world: you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel.”
“But most of all, I like to watch people. Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them and listen to them. I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they are going.”
Anne Bentley / Louise Glück, October / Jack Anderson, A Poet's Guide to the Subway / Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 / Holly Warburton
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There is no such thing as coincidence in the world of Lee Kangdae. There are - however - carefully and fortunately crafted series of events that all lead to the crucial, the collide of opposites, of day and night, moon and sun, and them, foes not by birth but by choice. And now all of their decisions have lead both to the same place: in the theater, in a balcony, overseeing the entire stage. The orchestra fumes into climax, applause errupts and fades into the break.
Kangdae who thinks himself rather an exceptional young man, in the fuss of the break time, turns around to his company, his elbow now placed leisurely on the backlean of the other’s chair. “It doesn’t matter whether he trusts you”, he begins, his lips drawn into a smug smile. “I keep work-talk for work-time.” It sounds like an excuse, but what Kangdae really means is, you don’t know how to play this game yet. He watches the other adjust his jacket and finds his assumption confirmed. He seems a little over-enthusiastic in the way he speaks, jumps from extremes far too much for Kangdae‘s taste. “From the sound of it, he’s right in not trusting you.”
Kangdae excuses himself for another drink and beckons the other to follow. Once in the mainhall, he takes course for the bar and stops there, knowing the other has followed him. He doesn’t have to give an order at the bar, having frequented the theatre on many occasions that some of the staff even recognised him on a personal level - on top of the fact that he is a well known name mingling among the rich.
The bartender pours two glasses this time, understanding the cue to include the company. “Your father is insufferable. But that doesn’t mean you should talk about him like that.” There is a hint of authoritarian sternness in his voice, but it is overplayed quickly by the charming demeanor he projects to the forefront. “But tell me more about yourself. You’ve grown a lot since the last time I saw you. I didn’t know you were a lover of the arts.”
@illvsia, cast : kangdae ft. dohyun ›
well, when was the last time he has been at a loss of words? even in his sleep dohyun is known to mumble his dreams or whatever is crossing his mind in this moment. for awhile it’s been him against the world ─ or maybe not as dramatic, only the company he used to work for and their enemies, one of which is currently sitting merely a few inches away from him.
he might have looked at a couple files of former employees and he might have picked this guy … not so randomly. there has been something about his story that reminded dohyun in some aspects of his own situation. he has taken the file with him, just so to do another victim a favour. it seems as if his father still observes a couple of his ex-employees. the papers are now on the table in between them.
of course, the other remains sceptical about dohyun’s true intentions. ❛ if you believe my father trusts me with a task such as fooling one of his biggest threats, an uncomfortably attractive one at that, you think of me way more highly than he ever could. ❜ dohyun adjusts his coat, feeling the small weight of an important device in his pocket. its existence unknown to anyone else so far. ❛ i’m sick of this old prick. ❜
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these fits though 😎
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one-liner for @jeoseungsaja
“I don’t keep company anymore. It gets lonely -- age.”
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one-liner for @erstwhles
“I saw the pigs and just legged it -- old habit I reckon.”
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one-liner for @cvvalier
“I didn’t drink that much”, he whines, face flushed. “I need to just... drive home.”
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Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)
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one-liner for @halbermenschen
“Quite frankly, dear, I do not know if I should help you with this.”
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one-liner for @mythvoiced
“Are you crazy? Take that dirty shirt away, you’ll infect your wound.”
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