#im annotating scripts

[reliablerodent]

I know insanity exists because the Hannibal fandom exists

[mx-lauricedeauxnim]

2012 Tumblr would be going crazy if I told them that I was having a class breakdown of a BBC Sherlock episode.

[ritz-writes]

i havent read book omens yet, but im still not over learning that the first time we are introduced to crowleys eyes is during the shop fire. the most vulnerable moment in the entire novel.

i am unwell about this information.

[gf2bellamy]

unsure if youve ever made a post abt this before but what are your thoughts/headcanons on dad! spencer (what would he name his kids, what books would he read to them, what would he do for them on bdays, christmas etc or any other random details) (im chronically obsessed with dad spencer) (i need to talk abt him 24/7)

ohmygod i love dad!spencer so much. i'm also the number one girldad!spencer stan <3

when it comes to naming his kids, i’m completely convinced he’d choose something deeply meaningful, either after his mom or someone he admires, like a famous writer or scientist.

he would definitely do research on what books are the most educational for children. like, “this one has been proven to stimulate early cognitive development,” while highlighting passages and annotating the margins. but as they grow up, he’d gradually start sneaking star trek comics into their hands and pretend it’s still for educational purposes.

he’s 100% the kind of dad who throws a full-blown party for his baby’s first birthday. doesn’t matter if people say, “they won’t even remember it.” he will. and every birthday is more special than the last. he probably starts some tradition that very first year and keeps it going forever. something like a scavenger hunt for birthday gifts with clues that involve puzzles, fun facts, and science questions. because yes, even birthdays are a chance to stimulate the brain.

he’s not religious, but he absolutely celebrates christmas. he gets so into it. decorating the tree, picking out ornaments that aren’t made of glass (“it’s dangerous! what if they drop it?” he’d mutter, inspecting the packaging with concern).

but halloween is his absolute favorite. especially once his kid is old enough to go trick-or-treating. he lives for it. helping them pick the perfect costume, planning the route, giving a little script beforehand. “what do you say?” he’d prompt gently when someone hands over candy. “thank you,” his kid would reply, and he’d beam like it’s the proudest moment of his life.

he’s also the kind of dad who sits on the floor to color with crayons. legs crossed, tongue poking out a little in concentration, and eyes totally focused on staying inside the lines, even though the drawing is a sparkly fairy princess.

but more than anything, he’s focused on his kid. listening intently as they ramble about everything that happened in kindergarten that day. “and then we played tag, and then we had a snack, and i shared my markers with sam because she didn’t have any,” they say all in one breath. “that was very kind of you,” he smiles, glancing up from the paper. “i’m proud of you.”

bedtime is his absolute favorite. because, of course, no kid actually wants to go to bed and that’s when their curiosity kicks in. “what’s the biggest animal on earth?” “how do planes fly?” “why is the moon so far away?”

and there’s nothing Spencer loves more than perching on the side of their bed, answering those questions while watching their eyes get sleepier and sleepier. he always ends the night the same way, brushing their hair back gently, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead, and tiptoeing out of the room.

[jealousmartini]

I've got a headache, an I've got college tomorrow

Don't know if I should shift to my mha college reality or my mha uni reality where I live in a shared apartment with bakugo, uraraka and deku. I just know i want to go home. [Both realities are modern non quirk aus btw]

In these realities, I'm not Marcelynn Banks. infact she's just a popular OC of mine almost everyone on planet Earth knows I made for the franchise.

I, am simply Lucía R. Martinez. My dream ideal self. (i like to call myself Lucia laCruz because my mum's surname is cuntier), better known as my internet persona, "Kischa la Keisha" the popular YouTube indie animator, Illustrator, music producer, singer and song writer who dabbles in commentary, full animation projects and memes, video essays (i love a good video essay) and vlogging. The themes of the essays are usually a mix of popular discussions that are trending and unique topics i felt like rambling about on my kitchen floor, which can vary from family friendly to themes so dark it needs content warnings. I basically post whatever I want. And I like to incorporate things I learned while in college into my videos whenever i can, making them unique and well made or whatever just to show off. But sometimes they can be fucking messy.

In both realities, I am studying for 3 years in total. The first year I study english literature and filmography/cinematography. And in the remaining 2 years, I am an animations and games design student studying concept and character designing, 2D and 3D animation. I also scripted in my same exact classmates and teachers I have in this reality in my mha realities because I genuinely love them so much.

If I shift to my college au, I'll be ending the third year just like I am finishing college here, planning on moving into a place while in Japan with the help of my older sister. Because my mha college au is just a version of my better cr where the mha characters exist. If I shift to my uni au, I'll be starting my second year.

Fuckk I can't make my mind up. I'm getting college depression and a big ass headache just thinking about going back in tomorrow in this reality, and really, I just crave having an uneventful weekend in one of my mha realities. Where I sit on the cushiony chair of Uraraka's room, it's like 4pm, we've already decided on 2 pizzas for dinner and a cookie pie w/ ice cream for dessert, we AREN'T sharing with the guys, fuck we havent even told them yet. And im catching up on my research and annotation for the 3rd project of my animation and games course, sketchpad with rough notes scribbled in on hand with a bunch of snacks at my side and my pet cat in my lap, while Ochako does her own work opposite me practically drowing in plushies and blankets and our playlist we made together is playing in the background.

Ughhhhhhh I can feel my headache melting away a the though but I miss my wives so bad get me outtt

[jccatstudios]

Hi! Im pretty sure someone already asked you this but I really want to know. When working on the comic, do you make a script for yourself or do you "just" work with the book as it is? I know that making a script adds another work to the already long list, but working with the book as it is seems really overwhelming (many words me not likey)

You know, I don't think I have answered this before! Not in-depth, at least. Here's how I do it.

This is my extra annotated copy of the book (my original copy remains untouched). Got it used and as-is from Powell's. I also have a digital copy of the book when I can't bring this copy with me. I underline certain things I don't want to forget in the artwork, and write little notes to myself here and there. It's not shown on this page, but sometimes I cross things out that I won't/can't adapt like worldbuilding info and smaller flashbacks. If dialogue needs to be changed for lettering purposes, I do that when I'm actually making pages, not at the annotating stage. In the digital copy, I highlight character and setting descriptions to keep track of. This process is actually how I made my second graphic novel, which was an adaptation of a short story I wrote.

The ratio up top is my book page to comic page estimate. Last chapter's ratio was 10:21, which is in the ballpark of 3:7. With it, I've figured out how long each chapter and section would be just for fun. I even have a rough estimate of how long the entire book would be in comic format with nothing cut from it (try plugging in the numbers yourself if you'd like a fun surprise).

If this were a real professional project, I would write out a script myself. I'd want to keep the whole book in mind instead of doing it chapter by chapter. Working directly from the book for how things are structured is just a way to make the comic faster. Even thinking about the last chapter, I have ideas already for what I would change to create a stronger comic adaptation. For now though, I just go off the individual chapter to create something more one-to-one. This project has always been a way to improve my art and comic skills before I graduate, so doing structural rewrites to the story, even though that would be necessary for an actual adaptation, is out of the scope of this personal project I do outside of my classes.

[transvampireboyfriend]

i saw your post and if you're looking for really in depth, compelling storytelling and perfect characterization as well as that fight that you mentioned you gotta read erasure poem by thenewgothicromance !! the fight happens from around ch 10 so theres a lot to get through but god is it worth it

ANON YOU COME BACK HERE

you can't just casually change my life like this?? HOLY SHIT??? I finished the latest chapter today and oh my GOD? OHMYGOD i do not have the words to say how fucking- AAAAAH what the fuck!!!!!

It's so good!!! HolySHIT. IM LOSING IT. I want to print it like the scripts they give actors on shows and annotate the shit out of it. I want to dust off my design knowledge and format it as a book and learn how to bind books. but that wouldn't be good enough for it. i will go to my old teacher who's an editor and ask what will it take to have this professionally printed just so i can treasure it forever

im gonna be sick. and im gonna read it again and again and again and at some point I'll have words that make sense to put as comments on each chapter but right now i need to SCREAM FOREVER

[erxsoo]

HIIIIII

🌸 : COMPASSIONATE CHERRY BLOSSOM . . . has your significant other(s) gotten you anything that has become really meaningful to you? have you gotten them something that has become really meaningful to them? when was the gift(s) given? what is the story behind them? have you scripted it as an object you have in your current reality so you feel more connected to them?

omg hi!!! thanks for the ask <333

i'd say in general, kuni's more of an acts of service person over a gifter...but he does occasionally pick up trinkets here and there that he thinks i may like. these can range from the most mundane, stupid looking little figurines to pretty jewelry/accessories. i adore the ocean with my whole heart, so a lot of shells and other things that might remind me of the water at night. he also makes me food all the time (cus im a 'busy woman TM' who forgets to eat a lot) with little sticky notes that are supposed to be cute, but are usually things like 'eat your food or choke. (and remember to drink water)' with a drawing of some sort.

as for me, i plan on annotating one of his favorite books and giving it to him for his birthday. he and i love reading together and discussing our thoughts, opinions, etc. the both of us definitely value more thoughtful, sentimental, gifts over really expensive things (even though we both have the money for it lol). something about a gift that's been picked out with care hits more than a dyson hairdryer imo.

on another note, we also go makeup shopping together a lot (him for his eyeliner and me for pretty vampy lippies) and he's the type of bf to literally remember everything, from brands i dislike to shades that suit me, so he's always helping me pick stuff out or helping me find shades that suit my skin tone (and lips, having two-toned AND double lined lips is a whole nother struggle). i'll mention something around him once and it'll somehow be on my desk at home the next day.

[dykeofmisfortune]

the coolest thing i own rn is an annotated copy of richard siken's 2005 book "crush" i found at the vintage used bookstore/record store addressed to some guy named "peter" in the inside cover from a guy named "J" (i think. or an L idk it's in script) (also it's gotta be a guy right?? why would straight people buy richard siken books). i found it in the used $3-7 clearance books section. just sitting there. there's not a lot of actual writing but there's highlights all over the place, some underlines and the occasional drawn heart. there's a coffee stain over wishbone. im pretty sure one of the pages was torn out. so much evidence of love and it still ended up in the used bookstore to be sold. i'm normal about this.

[syn4k]

Established Ideas For Writing Projects That Will Probably Also Be Quite Large And Time Consuming That Ive Been Idly Rotating for Months While Working On Ashes

That one play that the theatre kids in the Emhec Café universe are working on (untitled)

Formatted as a script for a play; will need to do additional research on how plays are created and formatted

Because I'm me, will also include some metadata (i.e annotations, scribble marks as allowed by ao3 formatting, might have to make a whole work skin for it dear lord i hope it doesn't come to that) from the three authors (Ren, Sausage, and also Wilbur Soot because he's here too)

Play is about a werewolf knight who receives an order from the king to hunt down and kill a werewolf that has been spotted in a nearby forest, which also happens to be the werewolf.

Sausage and Ren are writing the play as a comedy/drama with a healthy bit of gay subtext interjected because why on earth would they not; Wilbur is using it as an outlet to vent about his recent divorce and mostly just adds dramatic angsty monologues that are NOT in line with the tone of the rest of the play at all but the other two let him keep helping because 1. it's funny and 2. nobody knows how or where wilbur lives and they're worried that if he doesnt come to these meetings anymore rhen he might just straight up die.

none of my ideas for this are actually written down anywhere, all of them were brainstormed on a call with a friend like five months ago

immensely ambitious project but would also be fun as hell to write

The Odyssey but make it a modern day roadtrip AU- working title atm is "Took a Wrong Turn at a 7-11 (The Modyssey)"

(original idea by @ wolfythewitch here on Tumblr)

yes, i am going to attempt to interpret a millennia old classic work that has become a part of western literary canon. no, i have not actually read the odyssey before.

everyone has the same name and im like 90% sure that nobody dies. dunno how anything will work again i havent read the odyssey

instead of the argo being a ship, it is a camper van.

i literally have no idea how this is going to work but trust me okay i will do it eventually and it will be glorious and it will be posted to ao3.

Writing Projects That I Need To Actually Complete Before Starting Anything Else Mentioned Above

Echoes in the Halls of the Deeps

YOU HAVE ABANDONED IT FOR LITERAL FUCKING MONTHS GET BACK TO THIS PROJECT IT IS TFC CENTRIC YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

Arsenic Tea (or Death and her Angel)

this one's been shoved way down the priority list i'll get to it someday but i started it for nanowrimo 2022 and burnt out so bad that i had to just scrap it and do something else to get a grade because i did it for a grade. it's a great concept! i was just in the trenches at the time

[studioeisa]

kae 🌟 shared a moment with you! ୨ৎ

initially, i didn't think i could do a 2024 wrapped because i only started writing on this blog in october. when i crunched the numbers, i realized... huh. if anything, this is a reminder not to sell yourself short. <3 sharing some of my stats, insights, and resolutions under the cut. thank you for being here with me!

🧾 TOTAL WORD COUNT (OCT-DEC) -> 120,000+

🎱 IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

mingyu & bento boxes ✩ 2.2k notes.

💬 it’s the “i love you, i want us both to eat well” 🥲 — shirebusking 💬 mingyu is definitely such an acts of service person. cooking is his love language. i can get behind this. mingyu spending $600 on amazon for custom bento boxes and other stuff… is it really that serious? yes!!!!!! yes it is!!!!!! — daegutowns 💬 I LOVE ANYBODY WHO COOKS AS A LOVE LANGUAGE GOD DAMN. it reminds me so much of my own grandma mother and father uncles aunties. THEY ALL COOK AS A FORM OF LOVE MY GOSH. — roselleviennesstuff

blindsided (wonwoo x reader) ✩ 1.5k notes.

💬 yeah this was some good food. it was flirty sexy and fun and using the scene from Business Proposal was perfect. well done! — beomcoups 💬 eagle screaming rn like RAAAAAAAAAAAAH. you cooked frrrrr like i see ur brain is a restaurant the way ur cooking serving and eating + also thank u for including the business proposal gif. needed to be reminded of that fr. your mind! so genius. ty for blessing me w goated fanfic. — ctzenjohnnyreads

lost in translation (minghao x reader) ✩ 1.2k notes. ALSO: 🥇 MY LONGEST FIC OF THE YEAR (25.8k)

💬 the annotations… the amount of thought put into this has actually made my brain expand by like 4 times. i need this hung up at the louvre word by word actually. art is not dead because op exists. i forgot this was fanfiction and needed to take a breather cus i was so… impressed??? — noircheols 💬 author. GRABS YOU BY THE SHOULDER AND SHAKES YOU. i hope you NEVER stop writing. this is genuinely one of the best fics i've read on this app. this is so lovely and warm and so comforting.. oh to have somebody that's just as much as a friend to you as a lover :(((( og tags is real btw. truly Xu minghao the man that you ARE. im so sad. IM DEVASTATED. im in shambles. everyone PLEASE read this fic PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. this is amazing op. please know that. — akiooris 💬 this is so beautiful and intimate and sweet. falling for someone who speaks a different language of you is a privilege not many people get to have but when they do its so beautiful and you nailed it. language makes up so much of a person’s self and learning a language through someone special means getting little bits of themselves as you learn and i can read it in this. especially when they comfortably address you in their own language its the sweetest. — peachiepiesundays 💬 THE YEARNING WAS SO INSANEEEEE. I was genuinely wondering what I was doing reading this because it felt like I was intruding on their private moments. I ADORE THIS. — lanatheawesome

🍊 SPECIAL MENTIONS

✶ babe for the weekend (soonyoung x reader) 16.6k words | cam and em studios' winter with you collaboration

› i worked on babe for the weekend in four different cities, two different countries, an airport, the back of a taxi, etc. it's the first time i participated in a collaboration and it's overall just so much of my heart in one fic. i have yet to annotate for it, but it was such a joy writing a small-town-exes story with one of my biases. ever so grateful for the opportunity and the trust!

✶ catch you when i can part three (vernon x reader) smau | published on @xinganhao

› my love for cywic knows no bounds, but the headcanons ('vernhow') for part three in particular were game-changing for me. this is where i started truly playing around with the forms of my writing, and it's been such a joy getting to challenge myself across the work i put out. i really hope to get to do more of it next year.

📴 other xinganhao formats i loved:

the script in film major!mingyu x reader -> "genius concept & an even more genius execution <3" (gyusbabydoll)

the genius annotations of seungcheol x fanbase!reader pt. 2 -> "i love love love all the little bonus stuff you do for these literally most creative and fun smau writer ur changing the game" (junhui-recs)

the photo exhibit for our beloved summer!wonwoo -> "the headcanons as an art exhibit. WHO GAVE U THR RIGHT TO BE SO SMART" (wonustars)

✶ all of the while, it was you (hyunjin x reader) 4k words

› i didn't get to write for skz as much as i might have wanted to, and this particular fic is also a little janky (told in third person, etc.) but it's where i got one of the first compliments on my k-fic work, which i think of to this day— "Reading this felt like being allowed to tour the Louvre alone and at your own pace," from fruityuncleskeletor. it gave me just enough drive to keep writing on tumblr when i was starting out. :')

📌 HALL OF FAME

kpop soty: sad song by p1harmony

favorite svt song of the year: orbit (the8)

favorite skz song of the year: as we are (seungmin)

non-kpop soty: buzz by niki

movie of the year: how to make millions before grandma dies

book of the year: everything i know about love, dolly alderton

poem of the year: 'catastrophe is next to godliness', franny choi

quote of the year: “what is done with love is done well” — vincent van gogh

⏭️ HERE COMES 2025

write more for skz. ideally at least one anything, once a month + actually start my blue sky series.

read better. in a book sense: read at least one book/month. (instead of 12 books a month, like some type of psycho.) in a fic sense: annotate/review at least one fic/month.

work on my buzz (seventeen's version) series. only jihoon and wonwoo are up as of posting lol.

collaborate. explore collaborations via xinganhao. pluck up the courage to join more collaborations + survive that's showbiz, baby! with tara.

mark my first milestone event. hitting my follower milestone soon, so i'm trying to think of how to celebrate it!

📦 THE FINAL WORD TONIGHT

✎ i never thought i'd come back to tumblr or that i'd ever venture into writing for kpop, but i'm really glad that i did. i admittedly went a little batshit in the past three months because i'm going through a weird time (lol), and so the goodness i've been granted, the people i've met, and the outlet i've carved out have really gotten me by.

thank you for always looking to me with kindness. i hope you're a little happier than me today + i will keep on writing for as long as you will all have me (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )✧ happy new year, everyone! — kae

[suchaehwas]

[ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: mèimei, hāi 😊 shì wǒ, wáng xiǎoníng-jiějiě ✨ [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: sorry to message you so late, but i figured xīnyù-gēgē would never say anything that's going to make him even more embarrassed, so i'm going to take the liberty of saying it for him 😏 [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: gēgē shì fēicháng bìngle 😟 tā míngtiān bùnéng shàngbān [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: so the producers and director called me earlier and they're going to rearrange the filming schedules. there are a couple of our scenes that we can film in the meantime. i'll send the script with a couple annotations i made, lmk what u think !! [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: [ 宁宁 shared a file with you ]

wáng xiǎoníng stares at her phone in silence for a moment longer, chewing lightly at her bottom lip. it's not just that xīnyù isn't feeling well --- he seemed to be in especially poor spirits, too. unfortunately, she has a bit too much experience with how that can go.

[ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: i'll have to ask you a personal favor too if that's ok ... [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: please don't let xīnyù feel like he's losing face over this. he'll never say it, but i know he's much more upset about the rescheduling than he lets on. 😭 [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: boredom doesn't suit him, so if you happen to have a minute tomorrow to message him, i know he'd really like it, okay ? [ msg from: 王晓宁 ]: 晚安 ❣️

[ for mengmeng 8)c hehehe ]

so cute im crying

[librarypapa]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP YES

(also just got the script and am currently annotating 💕💕, filming starts next week and it’s gonna be for SIX HOURS. IM IN EVERY SCENE.)

(not complaining I love acting it’s just gonna be hell on earth for a bit)

and YES ESPECIALLY TO THE TOM THING

just cooing at you so much if he sees you upset, once you get home hoisting you up in his arms and letting u grab at him as he bounces you and hands you sensory toys to distract you, eventually putting you down for a nap in your nursery

(he makes you a nursery with all your favourite things for sureeeeee (im projecting lmao))

OMG ?? THATS AWESOME IM SO HAPPY FOR U !!! <33

And SOBBING YES,, he absolutely would do that, I imagine that whenever u get upset he gets mega clingy to you HEHE

[heartepub]

i am back again w annotations of annotations bc i am Unhinged™ but also bc i would gladly dedicate sonnets to the way you write, and to have this gift for a piece so close to my heart makes me so unbearably fragile

it's always, always an honor for my work, especially sito, to be loved so well :")) without further ado

"love of seungkwan's life" being a defining characteristic struck me so hard on the second read through. it's so simply stated and i think that makes it all the more powerful.

i screeched in your dms already but my god . the screenplay as a choice of medium was intentional on my part, as an exploration between seungkwan's memorializing and/or fictionalizing, so for this to be pointed out just made the thought of this screenplay possibly being seungkwan's POV, his writing/narration hit me like a brick

the undercurrent of hope!!!! the UNDERCURRENT OF HOPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i sound like a broken record when i bring marcel up again every time hope enters the discussion but when i tell you i adore how he frames hope as the struggle against despair amid trials......not necessarily to hope for something, but simply to hope, as an unconditional act of trust in the world and in people

this entire fic reminds me SO MUCH of below excerpt from george sand's letter to gustave flaubert.

"i dont know where i get the courage…let us love each other to the end." goodbye world you absolutely nailed it......this is like . a foil to this post that haunts my waking hours every few months (SAVING THE LINK TO THE FULL THING BTW)

i love the way this line kind of just slips in. the same way it slips out of seungkwan's mouth -- it's so natural. he doesn't say it to be heard it's literally a thought SO full of tenderness it barely makes it past his lips.

they are so in LOVE. no matter what, they remain so in love.

im so in love w how you pick these up.......hana :((((

memory and loss live side by side. […] nothing’s linear, yet it all makes sense […] the soil metaphor too... it’s almost easier for seungkwan to focus on that harshness than the ache of being alone. the contrast with the next cut being to the WEDDING […]

memory and loss live side by side!!!! ily.... (THEY ARE IN LOVE.......DESPITE DESPITE DESPITE)

it's so interesting to me that each person picks up on different things to focus on—kae (perhaps influenced by lrpd being in the wild like . a week before sito lol) annotated a lot of the apocalyptic-adjacent worldbuilding/script/memorializing aspects (comm major u/studioeisa ily) and you dug your fingers deep into the affective elements/responses of the writing, and the themes and nonlinearity of sito.

while writing sito, i was reading a swim in the pond in the rain by george saunders—and was struck by him saying that the most basic thing to keep in mind while writing was that each word/sentence/scene should make your reader want to read the next one. he also described emotion (i think) as a pail that's passed from scene to scene, and the challenge is to not make it spill when attention is refocused (e.g. a new scene). and while it's easy to just shuffle scenes around, i think presenting things nonchronologically makes that carryover even more challenging, in its own way. so I'm so ridiculously happy to have the sequence of scenes be complimented

not as a clear, sharp thing, but as ghosts, soft and a little mysterious. the past is both vivid and blurry at the same time, so full of warmth but also unreachable […] [cabinet filled with infinities] as a beautiful painful contrast between the finality forced on them and endless possibility of what they could have had

^ this w your pointing out the interactions of memory and loss, of "the memory of someone not just as a collection of facts or images, but as a living presence shaped by how we hold them in memory and how we remember them aloud to those around us" i think forms such a core for people who have experienced loss. and there's so much weight to it, and a burden that things are forgotten, or changed, even when held in memory—not everyone has a gift like the hours of footage. a lot of times moments are left in the slipperiness of memory and recall (it is a delicate burden indeed; delicate yet staggeringly heavy)

YOU INTERPRETING IT AS A METAPHOR FOR WHAT THEY COULD HAVE HAD OHHH IM SO SICK.......the poetic imagery of dreams when made alive in spaces of intimacy, etc.....

i knew it was coming the first time, and i definitely knew it was coming the second time. it doesn't make a difference.

out of context orpheus and eurydice/greek tragedy storytelling quote found (YOU QUOTING ILIAD.....successful assassination attempt)

love itself guides the lens, making every smile and every look and every cut proof that this person was here, real and deeply known.

RAHHHH the camera guided by love :((((( that scene w vernon is my favorite in the fic honestly (and if we're talking about the ambiguity between real/edited/fractured scenes and memories i think that scene is the most real in my mind)—there is much solace in thinking about how any memorialization (and to an extent, inevitable fictionalization) done by seungkwan will always be done with love at the center of it all

he carries the grief. he holds in careful hands: memory folding into muscle memory. and it's so accurate to how grief truly is. you walk with it. you carry it like seungkwan does: in your breath, in your bones. it leaves you wrecked, but never empty.

memory folding into muscle memory is an insane thing to write jsyk . you walk with grief!!!!! grief is the final translation of love!!! even as love transforms into grief it will not be love lost, only overflowing. as long as there will be love, there will be grief......

it's the kind of poem that understands exactly what this fic understands: that brief, beautiful lives are not diminished by their brevity. that something can be strange and sad and still full of love.

i love that poem so much. it is so dear to me, and your explanation of its beauty, and where it and sito intersect, is just so lovely (a lil pachinko "history has forgotten us but no matter" coded too).

sito is my baby, the fic whose shadow i would gladly stand under, the imperfect work i would still not mind being remembered by. and im just so so happy that the risk of placing vulnerability and trust in the people who read it pays off every so often, in the form of annotations like these. :") endlessly, endlessly grateful, always, to you and the love you've gifted me with (mwuah)

something in the orange

summary. remembrance is also reconstruction. reconstruction presupposes loss. a meditation on memory, narrative, and grief. and, of course, love. pairing. boo seungkwan x gn!reader genre/tags. ANGST, (semi-graphic) major character death, interstellar au-ish (just the blight), non-linear narrative, blurred fiction and reality if you squint (sorry I reread goodbye eri while writing), unbeta’d (mistakes are my own) wc. 5k suggested listening. love wins all, iu // 消費期限, seventeen // triassic love song, paris paloma // eight, iu prod. & ft. suga // yawn, seventeen // something in the orange, zach bryan (or niall's cover)

notes. midnight in korea now; happy birthday Seungkwannie! this is very experimental, and admittedly i'm not fully satisfied w it, but I didn't know how to change it atp. sorry boo, it's your birthday but i give you pain. as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

D-17 EXT. SEOUL TRAIN STATION – KOREA – DAWN The sun rises over the ruins of Seoul Station. The air is clear of smoke and fog. A shot of the sun peeking over the heap of steel, glass, and cement that once served as the station’s framing. The train tracks run to the far horizon, to the left and right of the frame. Pan to YOU (young-looking though age is ambiguous, former writer, love of SEUNGKWAN’S life) squinting at an old, battered map of Korea’s train lines, and a compass. You’re wearing battered jeans that are slightly too big, boots, and a sturdy leather jacket. Behind the camera, SEUNGKWAN (male, young-sounding though age is ambiguous, former video producer) narrates.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         BOO-log number 529. We’re now figuring out how to get to Mokpo. Neither of us are any good with directions, but my partner decided that we could try following train lines since the none of them are running anyway. You look up at the sound of his voice, noticing the camera.

                YOU             (exasperated, but fond)         Kwan-ah, are you filming again? We have 30 batteries, but not all of them might be working. You might need to save battery and memory if you want to video the view of Jeju Island.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         It’s okay, I really just wanted to record us before we start. Once we’re walking, I won’t use the camera as much. And I have twenty other SD Cards!                 YOU             (not surprised)         Okay, we’ll definitely figure something out for the batteries, then.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Now— Seungkwan’s voice changes to a more formal tone, as though he were imitating a newscaster.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         What are your thoughts as we start our newest adventure? The camera catches your grin. You follow along, changing your tone to an impression of those backpackers in TV documentaries.                  YOU         Um, I’m excited to see Jeju-do, even from afar, because it’s part of Seungkwannie, and we had our honeymoon there. As long as we’re careful, I know we can do it. If we’re lucky, we may even find someone who can bring us across. Beat. You look ever so slightly awkward in front of the camera.                 YOU (CONT’D) Wait, here, give me the camera. I’ll record you this time. The footage shakes, briefly showing a tiled floor, then train tracks, before panning to a blurry face. The camera shakes for a moment before the image comes into focus, revealing a beautiful young man with dark hair. Seungkwan does a better job at the “interviewer voice”, but you’re no slouch either.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         So, Seungkwan-ssi, what are your thoughts as we embark on a new adventure?                 SEUNGKWAN             (genuine)         I think it’s about to be wonderful.

D–2183

When the Blight started, both you and Seungkwan were in high school. Though only having known you since that start of your third year, you’ve quickly wormed his way into his life—visiting his house, having dinners with your family, and he even managed to force you into joining the badminton club with him.

Bees now officially extinct, the news proclaims, an effect of the ravaging of nearly all plant life. Asia in particular has suffered; the widespread rice shortages due to it becoming impossible to grow resulted in widespread famine. The extinction of plants used for feed, made food prices across the board skyrocket. Corn, it seems, is the only crop that can resist the Blight—and the rest of the world now has to adjust its staple food to mimic the old Americas.

“Seungkwan.” You prod his ribs.

“Mm?”

“What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?”

“Marry you.” You laugh, until you realize he isn’t joking.

“What?” Your voice pitches to an incredulous squeak.

“Marry you,” he repeats.

“Why, though?”

“I always wanted to get married,” Seungkwan replies, after a moment of pondering. “And if the world ends tomorrow, as of today you’d be my best candidate for marriage.” 

For a moment, you just look at him, eyes tracing over his features. Your steady gaze makes him shift, uncomfortable, wondering if he said something wrong. Eventually, you shrug, though there’s a twinkle in your eye as you quirk a smile at him.

“While I don’t support shotgun marriages, I’d make an exception for you and the end of the world.”

His breath catches, heart stuttering as he tries to parse your answer in his head. “Wha—you—”

“Come on, Seungkwan, don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” you groan, flopping sideways to plop your head against the armrest. Your legs tilt as you do, your foot brushing against his calf. He tries not to jolt at the contact.

“I’m sorry!” He pouts, trying to calm the uneven fluttering of his heart. You laugh, shifting your lean in the opposite direction, so your head lands on his lap. Despite having done it a thousand times before, he traces softly the way your hair falls, admiring the way its color contrasts with the color of his pants.

(Looking back, he’ll think about how that day changed things, even just by a little bit; how his gazes grew longer, noticing more how the sunsets glowed against your face as you walked home together every day, painting you golden. How you’d both gotten used to creative ways of shelter when mild dust storms come, thanking your luck each time that you had gotten home before it truly began.

He’ll think about how, a year from that day, he kissed you as he walked you home for the last time before you enter your separate colleges, swallowing the teasing took you long enough from your lips as he finished his shaky confession. 

He’ll think of how you exchanged second buttons like those characters from that anime you liked did, and the quiet promises to make things work even as the world seems to turn more barren than both of you can follow.

He’ll think of how three years from then, he gets on one knee, to your tearful yes and salty kisses. Your small marriage, with just your families, batchmates, and some professors, followed by a beautiful honeymoon in Jeju. Despite it all.

None of these decisions had anything to do with the end of the world, but you and Seungkwan made them, nonetheless.)

D-9 INT. A TENT – A TRAIN STATION SOMEWHERE BETWEEN SEOUL AND MOKPO – NIGHT The footage is grainy due to the lack of proper lighting; the camera shakes as Seungkwan seems to be trying to balance it on something. The tent is quite cramped; the inside is sparse, with only two sleeping bags and your knapsacks—Seungkwan’s with two camping pans attached with a carabiner.  The leather jacket you were wearing is now resting on one of the bags. You have both swapped your sturdy day pants for more comfortable, albeit worn, sweatpants. Out of context, it looks like a vlog filmed by two campers on a hike. The camera steadies as Seungkwan moves away. He moves to sit beside you. There is an easy intimacy as you thread your fingers together, almost mindlessly.                 SEUNGKWAN         BOO-log number 531. We passed by a sign that said Nonsan. That means we’re probably halfway there.                 YOU         We made progress better than expected, didn’t we? I estimated at least two weeks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (nodding, excited)         I thought the train tracks would have been ruined, since the stations are, but they’re surprisingly reliable.                 YOU         It’s true; of course there were times when we had to find our way around the tracks, or climb above anything that fell down over it, or go through some cornfields, but mostly, it seems we’ve been lucky.                 SEUNGKWAN         By the way—everyone, it looks like we’re in a tent in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, we set this up in a convenience store.                 YOU             (laughing)         You ruined it! Now we can’t be funky backpackers with a tent on the train tracks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (playfully lecturing)         It’s good to be truthful, you know. What if kids watch this someday? We have to be good moral people.                 YOU             (with the remnants of a laugh)         Okay, okay. We set this up in the Seven Eleven inside one of the train stations. Abandoned, obviously. We made it in right before the dust storm hit.                 SEUNGKWAN         Another good news today is that we managed to barter something for food.                 YOU         Yeah. This one engineer or something—I think he’s a veteran? But we saw him tinkering on his porch and offered a trade, his corn for our cables, and now we have dinner.                 SEUNGKWAN             (joking)         It’s not jokbal, but it’ll do, I suppose.                 YOU             (groaning)         Oh my God, what I’d give for some jokbal right now. With bossam. And soju. SEUNGKWAN         I’ll be dreaming of that tonight.                 YOU         Anyway, everyone, we’ll end the log here, so we have enough batteries for a nice long BOO-log at Mokpo. Both you and Seungkwan wave your corn (dinner) at the camera. You reach forward, covering the lens with your palm. The clip ends.

D–20

Seungkwan walks around the house. He’s doing his last checks, checking between what’s in his bag and what’s in the rooms to parse if he’s missed anything—batteries, your wallets, matches, passports, birth certificates, first aid kit, water bottles, toothbrushes, all the canned food in the pantry, the sturdiest kitchen knife you both owned (wrapped in two layers of cloth), the Swiss knife he was gifted a few years back, flashlights, a whistle, and all the carabiners and hard cash you had were already packed.

He finds you in your shared bedroom. There are a bunch of wires there, evidently cut from various appliances. You’ve wrapped the cables as neatly as you could manage. On the bed, you’ve laid all your dry-fit shirts and the sturdiest pairs of pants you both have. Then, from the dresser, you’ve collected the most expensive jewelry the both of you own—well, all of them, but you separated the expensive ones in another pile. He points to the latter.

“What’s that for?”

“If cash fails, maybe gold won’t. I don’t know, just in case the currency collapses. But they’re worth bringing all the same.” Also, you hold out copies of both your health insurances. He opens his knapsack and quickly stuffs them in the same place as your other documents.

“Last resort kindling?” Seungkwan offers, showing the cluster of documents in his compartment. The remark draws a quick breath of a laugh from you.

“Probably.”

“How about the wires?”

“You never know when we’ll need some emergency engineer bullshit; plus, if it comes to it, the wires will probably be better barter material. Before you ask,” you hold up one hand, “I edited a zombie novel a few years back. But if that kid was pulling out of his ass, we’re fucked.”

Despite your disclaimer, the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact way you’re handling the situation makes something settle in him, as though all he needed was an anchor amid the chaos. He pulls you close, placing a kiss to your temple. The tension in your body melts as you press against him. For a moment, Seungkwan just holds you. A temporary anchor before you need to move.

Turning to him, you offer a quick peck to his lips before holding up his trusted camera bag, worn as it is. “Bring it,” you tell him firmly. “We need a little bit of happiness. Get all the SD cards you have, too. In case we just never leave Mokpo. It’s small enough to stuff in our pockets.”

Seungkwan can’t help it; he grabs your face and kisses you. The camera bag sits between you awkwardly, but he doesn’t care. He savors this, the familiar taste of it, the contours of your face that his hands have long since memorized. You pull away, but not before kissing his lips again, then his nose. He’ll never quite get used to the way you look at him, as though there is something new to love each time.

“We’re gonna be okay, my heart.”

D-4 EXT – A LONG STRETCH OF BEACH – MOKPO, SOUTH KOREA – SUNSET The camera captures a breathtaking sunset. The sky is a wash of oranges and pinks, the clouds purple yet lined in the light of the sun. Mokpo is on the southwest side of Korea; the view of the sunset is particularly beautiful, as the sun sinks down into the sea. There are faint silhouettes of islands both near and far from the shore. The waters are tranquil, and there are no sounds except for the steady wash of the waves on the shore.

The shot slowly pans to you. Your expression is tranquil, despite the dirt and tears across your clothes.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (soft, so soft you don’t hear)         Pretty.                 YOU             (clueless)         Hm?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Nothing. Can you see Jeju Island from here?

He already knows where it is.                 YOU             (laughing softly, a little sad)         To be honest, I don’t know which piece of land I’m seeing is Jeju. A finger appears at the edge of the screen.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         There, that’s Jeju. Right behind the blob that looks like a hat.                 YOU             (squinting)         Oh! Right, that’s what it looks like. Beat.                 YOU (CONT’D) The view is beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea. Seungkwan hums the opening to Tears of Mokpo. You don’t recognize it until he softly begins to sing the opening lyrics.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (singing)         사공의 뱃노래 가물거리면…                 YOU             (laughing outright)         That doesn’t have anything to do with Jeju! He sings louder just to spite you. You playfully roll your eyes. Bending down, you unlace your boots and take off your socks, sinking your bare feet into the sand with barely-concealed relish. Seungkwan stops singing as he knows what you’re about to do.                 SEUNGKWAN         Careful; don’t step on anything sharp. As you move forward, the camera follows you. It is revealed that the beach is not so picturesque. The sea seems to have dried up some, and even here, bits and bobs of life float on the surface and linger in the sand.

There are the usual culprits: plastic bags, empty cans of alcohol and soda, and snack wrappers. Yet visible also on the camera are the following: bullet shells, shrapnel, a chair leg, a ragged pillow, and a cracked desktop monitor. As all this is visible, the camera centers on you laughing, splashing in the saltwater and enjoying the breeze in your hair.                 YOU             (calling; audio faint)         Seungkwannie! Come here! A beat. The camera zooms in on your face.                 YOU         Kwan-ah, come on! Hurry up!                 SEUNGKWAN             (proximity makes his voice loud)         Okay! A rustle. The camera is laid down, cloth (Seungkwan’s jacket) obscuring part of the footage. After a nudge, the cloth disappears from frame. Another figure, barefoot, joins you.

D–119

Jeju has officially been declared abandoned, lost for some other country to use as farmland. The radio announced the treaty ratification today. Seungkwan is a spectre around the house, listless and heartbroken. 

Months ago, when the conflict began to escalate in earnest, he began whatever arrangements he could to ensure his family was safe, moving them as near to the farming areas as he could manage and encouraging them to share whatever techniques they knew could help former cities now learning how to farm. The news does not make the sharp pang of grief dull any less.

He is at the age when he is to receive a conscription notice; Korea has since shifted its system to split soldiers into those who will either fight on the front lines of the Resource Wars, or serve by tilling the land and ensuring that there is enough corn for the population, however dwindling. There is no guarantee on which one he is to get, even if he did register himself as head of household (and should hypothetically be assigned the latter), but he is due to receive news in a few months’ time.

The promise of the notice hangs over both your heads. In the mornings, you spend ten more minutes just looking at him, as though you were memorizing the shapes and contours of his features. At night, he curls into you more tightly than before; once you’d have complained that it was too hot, now, you simply wrap your arms around him and let him sink his face into your hair.

“Hey, Seungkwannie.”

“Mm?”

“Let’s go on a trip.” The hand mindlessly running through your hair falters. 

He pulls away, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You keep your head low, pressed against his chest. “What?”

“Let’s go south. Yeosu, Mokpo, whatever, just near the beach, as close as possible to Jeju. Just…just see it, even from afar.” At his silence, you barrel on. “If we walk enough, we can make it in two weeks—a week if we can hitch a ride with one of those crop trucks or something—and then just another two weeks back, if we don’t settle in Mokpo outright.” 

“Food—”

“I can pack us as much as I can. We’ll need to ration, and possibly trade, but we can do it. The treaty is in place, and it’s most dangerous up north right now. Going south isn’t as big of a risk, and the weather has been looking good lately.” Finally looking up, you cup his cheek, tracing the skin with your thumb. He presses his lips to your wrist.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, my heart. I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

“I…” he falters. It’s tempting. Unbearably so, despite the nagging at the back of his head that it would be better to leave it at that, keep his memory limited to the days you spent there dodging dust storms and falling in love. He doesn’t know how much it’s changed. How much the ocean might have even dried up. He doesn’t know if he can stomach to see it. “Give me a few days to think about it?”

“Of course. All the time you need.”

D+29

Seungkwan’s life has been demarcated into two. Before, and after. He goes through the motions of the government-run fields: waking up, clocking in, eating breakfast, tilling the soil, weeding, lunch, the occasional drills in case they were still expected to fight, transporting corn from one warehouse to another, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Not a lot of people are here; many prefer to till fields they own, or collectively own; for once, agrarian reform straightened itself out at the start of the Blight. Yet with the dwindling population—slowly withering family trees—those lands acquired by the government grew.

Sometimes, Seungkwan thinks of home. He was lucky enough that the head of the center, Seungcheol, was kind enough to register his name as part of the deployed cadets under his supervision, despite the incomplete paperwork he had when he stumbled into his field, frail and dehydrated from lack of food and water.

Home remains now only in his memory, and in every replay of the Christmases he captured on camera. The soil is more unforgiving than before; it distracts from the loneliness.

EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The wedding is humbly decorated with dried corn leaves fashioned into flowers, as there are no real ones anymore (none within the budget, anyway). Guests came as they are, though everyone has made an effort to clean up more than usual. It is currently the reception, and the speakers are playing a quick beat. The guests are dancing, laughing, and cheering, though their movements are blurry and almost smeared onscreen (step-printing effect). In the middle of it, you stand, the only still figure in the frame. You’re smiling softly to someone behind the camera, very clearly in love. Cut to Seungkwan, in a similar position, the guests around him dancing as but blurs. He is wearing a similar expression. He begins to walk forward.

You meet in the middle, still the only clear figures on-camera, and begin to dance.  As though the dance were a spell, the surroundings cut to: INT. A MEDIUM-SIZED LIVING ROOM – NIGHT EXT. SEOUL STATION, IN RUINS – DAY INT. YOUR TENT (MAGICALLY ENLARGED) – NIGHT EXT. LONG STRETCH OF BEACH (UNPOLLUTED) – MOKPO – SUNSET Hold this image for a moment. The sea laps at your ankles. The bottom of both your garments brushes against the saltwater, but neither of you seem to notice. Both you and Seungkwan close the gap to meet in a tender kiss. Suddenly, cheers. You part, and are back to: EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The newly-married couple smiles and waves. The bottoms of their garments are damp.

D+167

It seems surreal to have all the batteries he wants, and even a computer where he can replay all his footage—more than 4000 hours’ worth of it. It took a few months of work to earn enough credits and rank to access it, but Seungkwan pursued the goal with single-minded purpose. There is enough electricity in this center to run a few computers, and Seungkwan is its most regular customer, painstakingly going through each clip on the dozens of SD cards he has.

For footage so far back, from when you had just been married, there are parts where he no longer remembers what happened after the clips end. They remain in his memory as but colored ghosts, warm-tinged with nostalgia. Cabinets that would never be opened again, now filled, in his dreams, with infinities.

The house of his memories blurs with the house of his oneirism. In both, he subsists on sleep and daydreams. But memory will betray; it won’t tell him if the house he remembers has been altered by each remembrance. So he watches his videos. He walks through his house, now only alive in film and reconstructed by memory. He sees himself and he sees you, in all the different iterations you both were. Wonders if he could stitch both into narrative. Wonders if he could even bear to cut any scenes. He’s never thought about the violence of that act until now.

Inventories do not just catalogue possession; they also measure the potential of loss. It was a quote from one of your writing workshops, discussed over a late dinner. You could still afford some meat then; Seungkwan had saved just enough for a small slab of cured pork, which you would cut tiny pieces from for both of you to enjoy before bed.

He has five minutes left of his designated slot with the computer.

Seungkwan watches, and he catalogues.

D=0

Seungkwan only remembers in flashes—a gunshot. A scream. It’s only when he replays that moment in his mind that he realizes it was his voice. Barely a thud as your body is cushioned by the corn leaves. Dark red liquid, somehow both grainy and slippery on his hands as he drags you into the thick of the field, away from the path, trying desperately to stem the blood while minimizing your trail. Until finally, he collapses, feet unable to bring him a step further.

More flashes—your eyes, only ever kind. Even at your last moments. The way you hold his hand and place it over the pocket you keep his SD cards, as though reminding him one last time. The way your eyes search his face, first desperate, and then resigned. The way he leaned in when you opened your mouth, to hear your final words, only to feel the ghost of chapped lips brush against his ear. The gush of blood that dribbles past your mouth that tells him you’re gone.

(The Resource Wars felt like more a backdrop than anything else; you had come this far without any altercation. Yet even as you screamed that you were not thieves, just travellers, the gunshot rang. 

The cornfields weep with him as he leaves you behind, SD cards clutched in his bloody hand.)

D–4

TIME CUT TO: It is twilight, now. The camera is trained on the horizon. The sun has fully set, and night is beginning to settle in the sky. Only the barest hints of orange remain. The footage has already become slightly grainy due to the lighting. Neither you nor Seungkwan are on the camera. Instead, voices are heard while the darkness arrives. It is not evident whether the footage was taken accidentally, or on purpose.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (softly)         I’m glad we came. Really, even if we couldn’t get to Jeju. I’m glad. I’m glad it’s with you.                 YOU (O.S.)             (just as softly)         I’m glad too, my heart. You filmed the whole sunset, didn’t you? Start to finish?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Yesterday and today. I have so much footage that I don’t know what to do with.

Breath.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         Actually, that goes for all the BOO-logs. Even the ones from high school and college.                 YOU (O.S.)             (surprised)         You never tried editing them?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         I have, but what then? There are hardly any theaters now. Nowhere else to post. And electricity is expensive.                 YOU (O.S.)         Okay, but if we both die, what do you think’s gonna happen to this camera? Seungkwan is many things; a prideful badminton player (before the Wars stopped sports events), a videographer, casual vlogger, and a corn field worker. You are also many things; an editor (before your company closed from too little employees), author, copywriter, and occasional tiller.

Both of you still enjoy nurturing sparks of creativity when they come.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm. someone picks it up and it gets immortalized in a post-war museum. And our videos will be a special feature.                 YOU (O.S.)         Oooh. And the war museum would be on a spaceship, with funky gravity and new plants and meat the astronauts domesticated from a different planet.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         And there’s a new jokbal. Call that out of this world delicious.                 YOU         Stop! Despite the terrible joke, you both laugh, then let the conversation drift into comfortable silence. The sun has fully set. Nothing much can be discerned visually from the footage.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         Hey, Seungkwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm?                 YOU (O.S.)         If you had the chance, like computers and steady electricity, would you edit all the BOO-logs into a short film?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (skeptical, but thinks about it seriously)         What would the plot even be? A married couple traveling to Mokpo, dodging dust storms and chasing each other through cornfields? Watching the stars at night?                 YOU (O.S.)             (earnest)         Yeah! Or, y’know, make it semi-autobiographic, like two lovers wanting to visit where they first had their honeymoon. Or maybe I’m sick and you want to take me to the sea one last time? The footage earlier could fit with that storyline.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Don’t even say that!                 YOU (O.S.)             (laughing softly, apologetic)         Sorry, sorry. But if you do make a short film, I want to be the first to see it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you work.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         What about you, then? Would you write a book about us?                 YOU (O.S.)         Oh, definitely. And you’d be the first to read it. The footage cuts.

D+182

Seungkwan replays the footage. Beside him, Vernon fiddles with a pen.

“What do you think about making this a short film?” Seungkwan asks. 

Vernon stops. 

Seungkwan may be their newest addition, but the rest of the crew has grown protective. He brings light to their conversations, effortless in his ability to entertain and bring laughter. Mingyu asks him of his favorite foods, especially the ones he misses from Jeju, even if recreating them is near impossible. Seungcheol reprimands anyone who tries to bully him into giving up his share of rations. Junhui has begun to joke more, noticing how Seungkwan seems to be particularly into his humor. 

Yet everyone recognizes the sadness that still clings to his heels.

Vernon looks, for a long moment, at the monitor, frozen with a picture of a smiling face he’s never known—never personally, only ever through the screen and Seungkwan’s stories, always shared in quiet whispers in the privacy of his room.

He knows, though. Knows that this person was real. They loved, and were loved. It speaks in how the camera follows whoever is in the frame. The cuts of certain clips, as though either the person behind the camera joined their partner or had a moment that could not be captured in film. Most of all, it was the way whoever was in the frame would, without fail, smile at the person behind it. 

“I think,” he replies, choosing his words deliberately, “that you are in a unique position to dictate how someone is to be remembered by those who never knew them. And…” he hesitates, wondering if two months of these quiet conversations is still too little to be so candid with his friend, especially when talking of loss.

So, so much loss.

Seungkwan answers that question for him. “It’s okay, Vernon-ah.”

“…Well, I just wanted to say that it’s a burden to bear, is all.”

EXT – A CORNFIELD UNDER THE STARS – NIGHTTIME The stars have emerged, visible in all their glory. After the start of the Blight, when the population began to dwindle, electricity and many other resources became scarce. Much of the light pollution that was once a problem has disappeared. Brilliant dots twinkle overhead. To you and Seungkwan, it could pass for the Milky Way. The POV seems to be at a low point; stalks of corn are visible at the edges of the frame. Yet the stars are bright, captured exceedingly well.

You’re softly speaking aloud Laura Gilpin’s The Two-Headed Calf. It was one of the poems you memorized in college, as a creative writing major. YOU (O.S.)             (as though from far away)         Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual. Long beat.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Twice as many stars as usual…let’s look up together.                 YOU (O.S.)         I see the stars, my heart, but I’m tired…

A breath hangs in the air. Some rustle of cloth, as though someone had adjusted so you fit together. A soft sigh.                 YOU (O.S.) Good night, Seungkwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         …Good night, darling. End.

note. are the screenplay bits from the short film? the raw sd card clips? his memories? distorted memories? guess we'll never know. nonlinear bc grief is nonlinear. pls tell me your thoughts (even/esp if u didn't get the story lol) take care of yourselves always <3 EDIT: here are annotations of this fic for anyone willing to indulge 1.1k of my meta

[khalixvitae]

urngh... (i flop onto your doorstep like a dying fish) please.... do you want to brainstorm for that vil fic of yours with the gay people in your phone im so sane about vil...

Hi anon! Sure thing, I’m still trying to nail down a few major bits of the plot line but I’m willing to share what I have!

To begin with, I think I want to make the setting somewhere very innocuous. A book shop, a cafe, something completely mundane and away from NRC. The basic premise is that Vil is going to this off campus hole in the wall destination to read/annotate scripts for an upcoming role. The reader is an employee of whatever business he’s started to frequent! Kind of tropey, I know, but if it ain’t broke, yk? But I’m trying to get it. A little off the rails.

The idea is that the reader basically just. Ignores who he is. He’s a customer, after all. I’m leaning into the idea of them being a bookseller more than anything else- the idea that they could want to provide him with any additional literature related to whatever role he’s playing/essentially help him hone his craft feels important. This is another one of those situations where my own life events may seep through as well- the idea that maybe the bookseller doesn’t really know what they’re doing with their life. Maybe they’re trying to earn enough money for a graduate level degree program? Something along those lines, like they have aspirations but don’t know how to achieve them.

Vil intends on keeping their interactions minimal and very professional- he refuses anything that he could consider preferential treatment until he sees the reader offering other people similar services. Then he has a moment of oh, they’re just kind. The reader tends to go above and beyond for customers that need assistance, or even for those that they just think could benefit from more information. Then Vil is a little less hesitant. Still professional, but maybe he’ll accept their offer to keep the shop open a little longer when he’s in the middle of a reading, or he’ll agree to have a cup of tea since they’re already making some. Naturally they get to talking. And yea, that’s Kind of the broader premise! I’m trying to nail down the role he’s playing. The one idea I’ve got floating around is kind of a weird one, but I recently reread Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and I’m spitballing Vil participating in a retelling of the story. Not as Dr. Frankenstein, but as the monster. Hear me out: in the book, he’s described as being intentionally crafted with beautiful features- which is what makes him all the more haunting to look at. He basically triggers the uncanny valley effect. Something incredibly beautiful and human and yet distinctly wrong. And the original monster is really an emotional and intelligent creature that seeks to be loved - only after repeated abuses does it actually become “evil”. It’s a story where the protagonist (Dr. Frankenstein himself) is frankly far more sinister than its antagonist. He plays god, creating a creature solely because he wants to know if he can. Then once he does, he just abandons it because he’s horrified at his own creation. Neither the monster nor the doctor are without their faults, and it’s one of those things where the reader is meant to be conflicted on who to root for. Anyway, I think a retelling that’s more sympathetic towards the monster (I.e., that characterizes it was Shelley did in the source material) would catch Vil’s interest. Yeah he’d be an antagonist, but he’d be a heart wrenching figure meant to conflict the audience and their perceptions of both him and the character he’s playing. And it would be a challenge for Vil, something he doesn’t seem to get often. It’s fundamentally different from any other role he’s played that we know of, and to play a creature so beautiful that it drifts into the territory of abominable? WHEWWWWW. idk I think. He’d be intrigued when it’s pitched at him and he’d accept this get out of type casting free card before his reps could shoot down the offer. Anywho! I would love feedback or other ideas if you or anyone else have any to bounce around !!!

[lizzardtown]

Two breakthroughs in the hunt for "With Marvin stuck in whizzer's ass" (original post)

First that (presumably) bill Finn wrote that line and it wasn't added by the college production (still don't know what version this is taken from though)

And that there is another version of this line where whizzer's name isn't spoken

Contributions from @felixettos and @glowingnervoussystem respectively (thanks!)