#also yes this is kind of meandering but also clara i hope you know this was FUELED by some repressed csl angst within me

[mixtapedoh]

actually you can go with seungmo + winter falls too. i think he's more of a winter falls girlie than lino. actually anything with winter falls 😭🙏

you knew what you were doing when you paired seungmo with my favorite skz ballad,,,,,,, your support and your mind will never go underappreciated in this house ♡♡♡♡♡

ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ (ᴡᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ)

☄. *. ⋆

pairing: kim seungmin x reader (not endgame) genre: angst, reminiscing word count: ~1k warnings: heartbreak, mentions of blood (metaphor and imagery), all thoughts no plot (sometimes fanfiction is about VIBES and VERSE, not cohesive story telling), gratuitous sneaking in and bastardization of song lyrics

olive's notes: you know know i had to go full tumblr for the title of this fic. song lyric titles (with something in parenthesis) how i love you, how i have missed you, how you changed the very synaptic pathways in my brain ♡. nothing will ever be as influential as you ♡.

consider my mini writing event ?

It wasn't the weather that made you think of him.

No, because that would be all too cliche — tidy and neat — something easy to anticipate and, perhaps, simple to avoid.

In a way, you could blame it on the snow: the soft, fluffy flakes too carefree to be cold, spinning on the barely there wind, a graceful pirouette to a gentle, almost forgotten landing. It was beautiful — the first snowfall of the year — and because it's arrival was so benign (unexpected and mild, creeping into the edges of the day until it's whispered chill tickled your skin and it's gossamer flakes were delicately kissing your head), you had no warning against the flood of memory it would bring in it's wake.

It was the couple on the end of the street that reminded you, though, if we're to be fair to the elements and truthful in the story we tell.

Two figures at the furthest distance from your current standing, hand in hand, startled as they walked out of a shop and into sudden snowfall. The leftmost of the two, seemingly more ecstatic than their loving counterpart, stuck out their tongue, angling their head skyward, and after a moment, laughed in delight, or some approximation of it. They turned to their partner, kissed them on either cheek, and then took off their jacket to place around the other's shoulders. Perhaps there was an exchange of half-hearted argument, but the moment ended with the two of them walking off, one double-braced against the building cold, the other habitually turning their palms to the clemency of snow — as though the moment was pure and this weather something to be held.

Snowflakes fell of your cheeks. If you were to be asked, they were to be blamed for any wetness, there.

Memories come in waves, and they are a vengeful and needy sea: demanding to be realized, sure in the devastation they bear. But how long is it before an experience crystalizes into memory? What is the minimum amount of time that needs to occur before that passage is significant and longing for someone can turn into missing them?

You weren't quite sure if it could be called missing him: this gnawing, guilty feeling accompanying your thoughts of Seungmin.

Once, the two of you had been friends so close, no one could talk about either of you without mentioning the other. His footsteps always following yours, your voice a necessary addition to any of his statements. So close your names spilled into the other, so present there was a space carved in the both of you for the other to reside in. Side by side or in tandem, there were always two.

And there were two, that night, when your warmth was carbonated with a fizz of intimacy and bubbles of desperation. You confessed to the secret of loving him and he worshiped that attachment with his lips. Again and again, a mantra that intensified to the fervency of song.

I love you, love you, love you.

And how many times did you say that before the sentiment set to rot, and the permanence of that phrase became something of the past?

I loved you, loved you, loved you.

Again, snow fell on your cheeks, pulling you just far enough out of your mired thoughts, to remind you to finish your walk to that lonesome, quiet destination called home.

You had Seungmin for longer than you held him, and the feeling of his voice in your mind was more resonant that the touch of his lips on yours. Evocative, cohesive, tenacious — something you couldn't yet unstick from the crevices of your thoughts.

Seungmin beside you, Seungmin whispering into the shell of your ear, Seungmin placing his love in the spot where your neck met your shoulders, the crook of your grin, the place above your heart.

But the wind blew, the novelty faded, the movie ended and you were stuck in the credits where words became meaningless and effort was forgotten in the aftermath of spectacle.

The ease corroded, the bitterness spilled, past tense slipped into the habit of your speech until all the tenderness between you was finished and gone by.

I loved you, and it wasn't his words or yours, but something set on the table for the both of you to consume. A sentiment on which you both engorged and drank dry.

Everything had changed, and yet you were somehow still the same. Seungmin had been so clearly and undoubtedly part of you — you carved out his place inside you alongside him! You hollowed out a space for him, and he for you — and yet with the absence of him, should there not have been something desperate and bloody for you to fix? You had searched and pleaded and clawed at the edges of you to find that void so you might set it to rights, but it evaded you, still.

I loved you.

Perhaps it had already healed over.

Perhaps it had never been.

But still, that unfound cavity ached in you. It was filled with the sound of his voice, and the phrases in his diary he'd let you read and you held to committed memory — it was shaped like the palm of his hand when it cradled you, and it contorted to the essence of his grin.

Would it have been different, had you never said anything all that time ago, and instead chose to keep those feelings in a bottle, only to be uncorked should Seungmin, himself, had fallen first and told you so? Maybe you could have kept that bottle of spirits in the most hidden parts of you, and, on nights when your yearning sharpened to the point of a knife, drank from them — an alcohol of illusion — just enough to get by? Maybe he would have found the bottle, and smashed it to ruin, or maybe he would have loosen it and get the both of you drunk off your own delight.

You would have liked it, perhaps, had he been the one to fall.

Maybe then he would stare at the innocence of snowfall and mix the feeling of it's melt with salty tears.

(ʇɹɐdɐ llɐɟ ǝʍ) sllɐɟ ʍous ǝɥʇ 'uıɐɓ∀

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[nostalgia-tblr]

Okay here are the answers, as promised in that other post.

— How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I first posted fic in 2001 so yes I am extremely ancient according to tumblr. (I feel like when I was young I thought "old" started at like 60, like a granny age, but I've seen fandom call 35 year olds "old people" so idk and also I worry a bit about when these kids hit what they think of as old age.)

— Do you have a favorite word? (One that you love. Doesn’t necessarily have to be one you use all the time.)

"Proximity." I use it a lot, even and especially in filth. It's a good word. Probably because it has an X in the middle, which makes it seem eXotic.

— Share a favorite run-on sentence that you’ve written.

Possibly cheating because it was co-written so long ago that I have no idea who thought of it but:

He really was really really hungry He wondered if the Doctor would have any food in the drinks cabinet He meandered out along the endless similar-looking corridors until he found the object in question so hungry that he started eating the punctuation in this paragraph

— Share a bit of a scene that you’ve written that still gives you FEELS.

Oh gosh, what kind of feels? I'll go and look at what I have on the AO3. Hrm. I'm gonna chicken out and say something that makes me laugh counts as feels, because idk why that feels less like I am giving away my inner thoughts. So.

Donna was impressed, there was no way this could possibly be a quarry in Wales, or even in the south of England. “This is fantastic!” There were flying cars and strange alien clouds -- all manner of things that would have to be done with CGI.

(Dr Who is very much a fandom that lends itself to stupid meta'y jokes about itself and I love that.)

— What is your favorite kind of character interaction to write? — Do you have a hyper-specific genre?

Banter? That counts, right? I like when you get characters just like... shooting dialogue at each other. And sometimes it means you get stuck with a killer line that you don't know to follow up on but it's generally a fun time for all concerned.

— Any personal or frequently used tags?

"other is alien/spaceship love" is an old fave. semi-recently I have been enjoying "oh [NAME] no" when characters are being awful or stupid or both. I have a Popular Tumblr Post about the importance of "let's get you out of those wet clothes". Recently I enjoyed using "(it's not knifeplay if they don't get off on it right?)"

— Share a joke or funny moment that you’ve written that still makes you laugh.

I just found this one and I laughed so I'll say this one (it is from a cracky 12-Clara thing):

She wanted to kiss him, but she usually wanted to kiss him so it didn't necessarily mean anything. Also she kind of needed the toilet, but she could hold it in until the crisis was over. “I don't care about your budgetary limitations,” she said, kindly.

— Best editing tip?

Just Say No.

(I don't really know how to edit things I just kind of write them and hope for the best. I realise this means I *could* be writing better fic than I am, but I'm doing it for free and I have enough stress in my life so whatever.)

— What drives you to write?

Spite? Sometimes, anyway. Mostly it's just for something to do.

— Share something about your writing that you have wished someone would ask you about. Or alternatively, something that you are just really proud of.

I don't know, I'll skip this one. (It said I could!)

— Where do you draw inspiration?

(same)

— What is your immediate reaction when you receive a new comment on a fic?

"OMG!! I hope it's not a complaint D: It's probably not a complaint. It's fine, it's probably something nice or a pretty emoji."

(Yeah I have anxiety WHAT OF IT??!!)

— What is your biggest challenge in writing?

At the moment it is getting this stupid fic finished it's taken fuckin ages and I'm getting annoyed with it but now I *have* to finish since I've made it this far.

— 1-2 sentence preview from your current WIP?? (Only if you are willing.)

Oh no, I'll go and look. There aren't many jokes in this one, and I feel extra-anxious about things that aren't jokes so I'll go with this bit:

He sits upright, looks at her carefully. “I’m willing to admit that if we were to judge it purely on looks then you’re the superior Loki.”

Sylvie pretends to be thinking it over. “Oh, I don’t know, that alligator was quite...”

— What story or scene are you most proud of?

Idk, probably something nobody else likes, because isn't that always the way?

— Please link your profile so we can admire your works!

OKAY MEME DONE now I can go back to failing to write things. Hooray!