"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."
for writing of all kinds. (concrit welcomed. ♥)
"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."
for writing of all kinds. (concrit welcomed. ♥)
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seasons still change in a land of constant spring
seen through rifts in otherwise endless static beauty
like a pinprick of warmth on skin
or the barest shifts in wind
shown only slightly, subtly, shrouded
in carefully hidden secrets.
it's spring again
I note
warily.
darling, you whisper
in a voice that stings
and does not comfort.
your words are poison
my dear.
(the drum in my chest
pounds to your beat.)
fleeting seduction
hushed caresses
a chorus of thoughts
humming the word love.
(do you think
the same things I do?)
I hold you in my arms
helplessly.
baby, I'm just trying
to figure you out.
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asdfghjksasdgfdfdfsddfdssdsddssdasdffgasasdsddasgsfgsad. wtf was that.
"Word spew" is an appropriate description of these impromptu poems, I think. Humor me, please. >_>;;
First, the frustration: FUCK. This fic is so fucking confusing fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Someone, anyone, please help because I don't know if any of this is working at all. I think I'm mainly freaking out because this thing has the potential to be really really good, but I'm scared that I'm screwing it up somehow.
BUT ANYWAY. So regarding the last post, I just went with my gut and started working on the introspective one-shot thing. And this is how the first part of it turned out:
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1. After a while, it becomes difficult to find the ‘me’ in ‘us.’
Jaejoong leaves traces of himself in the others. He compiles a growing list of their “me-isms” in his head: Changmin and Junsu have picked up my accent, Yoochun now holds his chopsticks the same way I do, Yunho takes his coffee the same as me, Yunho’s new hats are so similar to mine that he mixes them up, Yunho has grown to like the same music as I do.
He checks and re-checks obsessively, and assures himself that if the group were one day ripped apart or if he died tomorrow, he would still exist, somewhere, inside all of them. Makes certain that even if no one remembers the name “Youngwoong Jaejoong,” these pieces of him would still live on.
(“Idiot. You’re not that forgettable,” Yunho says and smiles into the crook of his neck.)
It confuses him that traces of the others are seeping into him as well. He sees Yoochun’s gestures in his own hands, detects Changmin’s sarcasm in his own tone, hears Junsu’s inflections in his own voice, breathes Yunho’s scent in his own clothes. How much of his current self has truly been theirs all along? Does it really even matter so much?
Yunho silences him with a press of warm fingers on cold lips. “You worry too much. We all love and are a part of each other. Isn’t that enough?”
Jaejoong tells him that it is, but sometimes he has to wonder.
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...And I'm just not sure about the whole thing. I want the mood to be slightly off, but not entirely detached or unnerving. (If that makes sense.) Is it too... artsy? Does it even make sense?? I just don't know. *mopes*
Because I will never finish the damn thing unless I do things like this.
Jaejoong reluctantly lowered his hand, smiling just enough to show a hint of white. “Your teeth actually aren’t all that bad. Not on you, anyway. On you, they look kind of… cute.”
“But I don’t want to be cute.” Yunho grimaced slightly, as if the word tasted sour on his lips.
{there's a break here because I still don't know what to write in-between EHEHEHEHE}
Then Jaejoong suddenly spun to face him, and the eagerness in his eyes revealed that he was about to voice a very exciting thought. “Let’s make a deal, then. When it’s just the two of us, I won’t cover my mouth when I laugh. And you stop pretending to be so mature and act as cute and cheesy as you want.”
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Hmmmm. My current options are:
1) work on Overture
2) start up a multi-chap high school AU fic that I've been wanting to write for a while now (SHUT UP IT'S GOING TO BE AMAZING)
3) write a relatively quick one-shot that will be kind of along the same lines as Questions in terms of mood
Decisions, decisions...
Sometimes Changmin wonders what his life would be like if he had magical powers like Harry Potter.
If he had magical powers, he could Apparate to a quiet library somewhere and finally read his book in peace. Or with a flick of his wand, he could bind all the rest of them, one by one, and stop the ensuing pillow fight around him. Or with one simple spell, he could have fixed stupid Jae-hyung’s broken hand mirror (“Who cracked this? Now I’m cursed!” he had lamented to everyone just ten minutes earlier) and prevented all the bickering and pillow-throwing (the constant loud “Whoop!”-ing from Yoochun, the whines and yells from Junsu as everyone gangs up on him) that soon followed.
But when everyone freezes and the entire room falls to silence with a mere clearing of his throat, he remembers: in this household, being just normal, human Changmin usually holds power enough.