apocryphalic | fifteen minutes to hell

- drabbles from the fifteen minute challenges @ the now defunct kpopficwangst and the new kpopficwank
- dystopia drabbles will be continued but they might not relate to what has already been written and posted here
- the limit to how much a person can hear is a wip and will definitely be continued...eventually, lol
- and i might continue some other drabbles, not sure yet D: altho after this, no more drabbling for a looong while

Gen-dbsk| pg
prompt

People in town don’t talk much. It’s not because they can’t, it’s because words are unnecessary in everyday life. Things here are controlled by thoughts and everyone carries a notepad that hangs around their neck in case they have something they want to say. That’s how they speak.

Changmin finds a note taped to his door when he wakes and he knows immediately that it’s Jaejoong. The scrawl on the paper is familiar and not only that, it’s also in pink. And then red and then purple. Jaejoong’s the only one in town with a rainbow colored pen. No one knows where he gets the ink refills but for as long as Jaejoong’s been writing, his notes have always been in different colors.

Meeting at the coffeehouse today instead. Same time.

Of course they’d change the meeting place and not tell him. Changmin’s always the last to know. It’s because he’s youngest and so they like to bully him sometimes, pull rank even though he’s the smartest one out of them all.

Changmin finds his notepad and stuffs his pen, standard black ink, into his pocket before heading over to the coffeehouse. Everyone is there by the time he gets there and the only seat he has left is the one next to Junsu. No one likes sitting next to Junsu because he laughs a lot and usually when he’s eating so food or drink, usually both, always ends up spilling out.

His coffee is already waiting when he gets there, a steaming mugful with a tiny post-it on it. There’s a smiley face and a neat hi. It’s in green ink. Changmin looks over to Yunho and smiles, waving to his hyung as well.

Yoochun yawns and tells him he’s late by shoving his notepad into his face, large block letter writing that says YOU ARE LATE. YOU ARE PAYING In an ugly brown colored ink that reminds Changmin of poo. He scowls and drinks his coffee, nearly burning his tongue as a result. He takes his wallet out and pays for everyone, refusing to pay later because that’s the mistake Yunho always makes. Then everyone just keeps ordering and there’ll be no end to it.

What are we doing today?

No one replies, everyone is too busy eating and Changmin just sighs, sipping on his coffee.

Yunho-centric | pg-13
prompt

Four years later and Yunho still remembers the words that had been spray painted across that wall. This was before Jihye had been taken from him. It happened dead of the night and even now, he’s not sure exactly how it happened. Like all other things happened, he supposed. They knocked on the door and came and she was gone the next morning when he woke up. His little sister, not yet fifteen and already labelled an Opposer.

Yunho thinks he’d like to be an Opposer. That’s what Shim Changmin in 4-B is. He knows because Changmin always leaves at two in the morning and doesn’t return for a good half an hour. Yunho lives in the apartment underneath Changmin and so he hears the soft sounds of Changmin’s footsteps on the squeaky floorboards every night. He tries to follow once but is stopped by his mother sitting in the dining room.

“Don’t go,” she tells him quietly, “or they’ll come for you too.”

It all changes when his father is taken too. His mother locks herself up in the bedroom and doesn’t come out for days, not even when he calls her, when he knocks and pleads for her to eat. She dies two weeks after her husband is labelled an Opposer too, his face splatter across the city walls, photos of him posted everywhere.

Yunho hears the squeaking now and this time when he tries to leave, no one is left to stop him. He takes off his Purity badge and drops it into the nightstand drawer, shrugging off his white shirt to find a black one in his father’s closet. There’s a diary in there that he knows his sister had kept and he takes it too.

He meets Changmin at the foot of the stairs, nervous and a little weary about what he’s doing. They’ll find out about this, of course they will. It’s just a matter of time before he’s taken too but maybe then at least he’d be with his sister and father.

Changmin looks him over and after a brief pause, reaches out to hold onto Yunho’s wrist, “Stay quiet.” He turns with a tap to Yunho’s pulse and the older man has no choice but to follow. Changmin takes him through a tunnel and they turn corner after corner until Yunho hears three distinct voices in the distance.

“Hey, you’re late,” a gravelly deep voice says.

Changmin shrugs and points to Yunho, “Picked up a stray along the way.”

“Is he any good?” Another asks, voice much smoother and calmer asks.

Yunho opens his mouth to say something when he’s tossed a spray can. “Paint anything, you can do the honors tonight,” Changmin says, grabbing another can out of the black bag that the third man is carrying.

“I’m Junsu,” he says with a smile, “don’t worry, we’re harmless.”

Yunho doesn’t think he’s heard a voice so clear and sweet in a while. Junsu tilts his head and he looks like he’s about to say something but Changmin’s already pushing him closer to the wall. He stares at it blankly for a while and then remembers those words he had seen so many years ago.

A little rebellion now and then is a good thing.

“Seems like someone knew of your work then, Changmin,” the gravelly voice says with a laugh.

Yunho looks at him and Changmin shrugs, grabbing the can back from Yunho, “You forgot to dot your I’s.”

Yunho-centric, Homin | pg-13
prompt

Yunho wakes up in bed with Changmin curled against him. They’ve been sleeping together lately, sneaking off at two in the morning and returning to Yunho’s now empty apartment to rinse the splatter of paint off their hands and wash the residue from their clothes.

It had started out like that anyway. Changmin would make an excuse just to drop by and Yunho would encourage it with a hand around the younger man’s wrist or reply with a kiss to Changmin’s temple.

The sex comes easily. Yunho gets such a high off what they do, spraying random quotes (and sometimes lyrics when Yoochun feels like it) and crude figures onto brick walls. Their work is always gone by the morning, cleaned up by the Thought Patrol before anyone will probably even see them.

Yunho leaves for work, Changmin waving him off because unlike him, the younger man doesn’t work for the Ministry of Peace. No, Changmin’s in the Ministry of Love, the one that no one ever wants to visit and yet Changmin’s there from nine to five. It’s a good cover, he tells Yunho, people don’t suspect him there.

Except they do. Changmin’s taken from him one afternoon when he’s gone to work, a shiny badge on his chest that declares how he loves Big Brother and how he serves him always.

It had been a snitch. The little girl from next door that told on Changmin, told his parents that the tall young man sneaks off late at night and returns with paint fumes. Yunho finds out from Junsu who also works in the Ministry of Love and he knocks on the door, eyes wide with anger.

“Why not me too?” he asks, ignoring the way the girl’s mother gapes.

She stares at him and then smiles, a little shrug to accompany the way her skirt twirls, “Because I like you.”

Yunho waits up sometime at night, hoping that somehow he’ll hear Changmin’s footsteps above him as he sneaks off but he never does again. He moves out and bunks with Jaejoong a month after Changmin’s gone. He takes everything he cares to, leaving his bed as it is, the sheets messy and both pillows slept in. It’s the only thing of Changmin he has left.

Yunho-centric | pg- 13
prompt | originally found here

To boost morale and to make life more bearable in general, they market and ration out goods that the scientists have analytically promised will instantly cheer a person up.

The first one out is a colorless and odorless fluid labelled Victory Gin. It comes in a glass brown bottle with an old fashioned screw cap, bulky and a little heavy, near impossible to lose but so easily misplaced. Just one sip will do to send your heart pounding overtime and while no one knows what it’s made of exactly, no one asks. They drink and eat what they’re given.

Every morning at six-thirty, a shrill voice blares at them through the tiny TV set and as badly as Yunho wants to sleep in, its useless to try. Not only is Big Brother always watching but the voice is sharp enough to break windows and it’s better to just get it over with.

There’s a daily fifteen minute exercise, stretches that the lady in the TV will do, bending over forward to touch her toes and reaching sideways to make a funny C shape. Yunho’s not found of any of these things but he’s always careful to keep a stoic expression on his face, one of carefully managed indifference that’s appropriate for the morning exercises.

After that it’s always a sip of Victory Gin to start their days and while Yunho’s even less fond of it, sometimes it really does help him out with the daily gruel and grind.

A few weeks after his meeting with Changmin and the others, Yunho begins to rebel in the tiniest of ways. It starts with him skipping his morning exercises or starting them late purposely, going to his left side when asked to go to his right or bending to touch his knees instead of his toes. It’s his way of testing out Jaejoong’s theory that Big Brother isn’t always watching like he claims to be.

Yunho’s “job” in their little group is to keep a historical journal. It’s a job that Yoochun’s been trying to find someone to do for them and it’s a perfect fic for Yunho, the only one of them that works in the Ministry of Truth. After all, isn’t Yunho’s regular 9 to 5 job all about taking pieces of history and correcting them so suit Big Brother’s needs?

They always end their nighty meetings with a puff of the Victory Cigarettes that come in the plain white carton, fifteen to a box with a fluid lighter already included. They’re often stale and pale in comparison to the real kind, or so Yoochun tells him. Yunho wouldn’t know, he’s not a smoker and he doesn’t plan on becoming one either.

Yunho always walks Changmin home, the younger man living only two floors above him after all. They don’t talk much, words can be used against them if they’re ever caught but that’s foolish thinking because just the act of being outside is enough to garner them a Vanish.

The third product to be released after the Victory Cigarettes is the Victory Love. It’s easily the best packaged one of the bunch, a tiny tin can with a pink label and a crudely drawn heart in the middle. Yunho’s wary of it right from the start, especially after he hears of the extreme love for Big Brother and their cause that the canned food produces.

Like all the other canned goods, it tastes like shit. It smells like nothing and when put on a bowl or a plate, resembles a lump of tofu more than anything else. It certainly does not look like a heart. But Yunho tries it anyway when it’s served as part of their daily lunch meal on Friday and as tough as the meat is, it fills his heart with a warmth that’s entirely different from anything else he’s felt before. It sends tiny tingles to his toes and for a brief moment, Yunho really believes that he’s in love and with the Party too.

It lasts all of two minutes and then Yunho’s back to drinking bland pink colored soup, eye on the clock for when he can head home.

Changmin-centric, Homin | pg-13
prompt

Changmin wakes to find the post-it stuck to his front door and while he appreciates that Jaejoong’ll drop it off for him, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea to leave something like this around.

Y.H. Jung 12
Main St Apt 5R 
E.T.D. 5:59 pm

He doesn’t think much of it at first. It’s a regular post-it just like all the other ones he gets and he crumbles it up and slips it into his pocket. All he’s thinking about is how he’s going to have to miss dinner with the others at the diner because he has a soul to reap.

“This whole public service shit really doesn’t pay well,” he mumbles to himself.

It doesn’t surprise him when Jaejoong shrugs from where he’s sitting on the couch, “That’s because we don’t get paid at all. We’re undead, Changmin, people don’t exactly notice us.”

Changmin shrugs and grabs his juice, gulping it down and staring at his friend and fellow undead, “Why are you here? Reaped your soul already?”

“Heechul said I should check up on you, see if you’re okay with your soul.”

Changmin scowls and reaches into his pocket for the paper, “Why wouldn’t I be? I can do this without fucking it up.”

At first, Changmin hadn’t taken to reaping souls kindly. He would miss appointments and sometimes, he’d even save the souls. Changmin’s no superman and he’s not a good samaritan either but if he’s asked to reap the souls of a homosexual couple so in love that it makes him want to vomit, he wouldn’t be able to do it on good conscience.

“Have you read the name?”

Changmin blinks and smoothes the paper out, “What about it? Y.H. Jung…” he pauses, staring at it and then at Jaejong, “no, Heechul wouldn’t…”

Jaejoong shrugs, “You know the rules. The reaps aren’t transferable.”

And so they’re not. At 5:50, Changmin’s sitting on the couch across from his ex-boyfriend pretending to be a pizza boy delivery free pizzas. Yunho’s grinning at him, stuffing his face full of pepperoni and offers him another slice.

“Great timing for free pizza, I was just about to go get some.”

Changmin doesn’t answer. There are still pictures of him everywhere and he wonders why Yunho’s doing all this. They had a pact. Yunho was supposed to move on, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Are you okay? Do you not like pepperoni? You must not, delivering all those pizzas.”

There’s a calendar on the wall, a pink heart post-it on February 18th, neatly written words Happy Birthday, baby.

Changmin stands and shakes his head, refusing the offer again. He taps Yunho on the arm, taking the older man’s soul that easily and leaves the apartment.

At 5:59 he waits outside, Yunho waiting for him already, looking a little lost but hopeful. Changmin holds out his hand and Yunho takes it, more hopeful than lost now.

Changmin-centric, hinted Homin | pg-13
prompt

In the year 2180, the world is just like that of the Jetsons. It’s what everyone thought the future would be when they were young, hover carts that serve as their main transportation and tiny little capsules that turn into a meat roast dinner or a bowl of soup. And in the year 2180, human are battery operated. Everyone is fitted with a battery heart, Energizer of course and surprisingly enough, the designer had made the battery actually heart shaped. There’s no complex plus or minus side. However you want it to fit inside of you, it does.

Changmin’s having problems with his heart these days. Junsu had accidentally spilled coke on it once and no amount of wiping had taken away the stickiness. A new battery would cost too much and so Changmin’s forced to deal with it. As a result, his heart will beat three times as fast sometimes and even stop on him when he’s least expecting it.

So when he accidentally crashes his hover cart into the lane over and knocks someone out, he barely thinks anything of the fact that his heart is thudding at least thrice as hard as it should.

“Sorry!” he calls out immediately, parking his hover cart in midair to go over to help out. Fuck, he’s dented his mother’s cart and now she’s never going to let him drive again.

The stranger smiles and shakes his head, “It’s okay, my name is Yunho.”

Changmin holds a hand out to help Yunho up, his heart seriously short-circuiting on him at the worst possible moment. It’s like a heart attack and he grabs at it, looking at Yunho with widened eyes as his battery gives out.

When he wakes, it’s to a pair of soft lips on his own and Changmin’s heart suddenly starts up again.

Changmin-centric | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

When Changmin was six, his mother would tell him how they used to be able to buy coke for twenty cents and pizza for twenty-five and she’d always end with telling him that kisses were worth the most at fifty cents each.

As Changmin gets older, he finally understands what his mother meant. In a society where a hug is worth three dollars and a handshake one, Changmin comes to realize that physical contact is not only discouraged, it’s also costly. Kisses have risen in price now, it’s more of a habit that only the rich can afford, much like the nicotine in cigarettes and the alcohol in beer.

Kisses cost more than both combined, five dollars for just a peck and seven for a real one with sticky lips. A french kiss costs even more at ten dollars. Needless to say, at twenty, Changmin still hasn’t been kissed and he doesn’t plan on it either. He’s always been a realistic kid and that hasn’t changed since he’s grown. If anything, he’s only more mature now and even he can weigh the cost benefits of a getting a kiss versus getting fed for a week.

Except there’s one day when he’s walking home from class and he finds a shiny ten dollar coin in the street right by the gutter. He pockets it and dreams already of all the food he can buy, maybe a slice of pizza that now costs a whopping five dollars and fifty cents with inflation. He walks past an alley with a row of booths and wanders in, clutching onto his coin.

Kissing booths, that’s what they’re called. People who sell their kisses for cheap, it’s like a black market for kisses and it’s illegal but the officers turn a blind eye if only because kisses really are too expensive.

Changmin walks past a booth, a young man with red lips, plump and full in a way his never will be and sits down. Pushing the coin forward. Twenty and never been kissed, he tells the man, smiling nervously. He’s told to close his eyes and a quick five seconds later, it’s over.

He never gets the name of the man he kissed and when he goes back next week, pockets empty, the booth is gone and the alley is empty.

Yunho-centric | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

Pills are the way of the future. That’s what Yunho’s told when he’s old enough to read and write and therefore old enough to use them. Every family has a pill box that’s see-through and big enough to fit all the pills that they could ever use. Each week the pills are rationed out by the government, three of the blue ones and two of the red, and sometimes if they’re lucky, one of the purple kind.

The purple kind is Yunho’s favorite. Slightly long and very thin, once watered, the purple pill actually turns into a complete turkey meal. There’s mashed potatoes and corn, turkey breast and stuffing on the side complete with a slice of apple pie as well.

The blue ones on the other hand, are Yunho’s least favorite. They’re nothing but stale bread and it usually takes a good three hours of baking in the oven at 375 to even get it to rise. No one likes the blue pills but it’s what they’re given the most of, probably because it’s the cheapest to make.

The red pill, much like the blue, is also cheap to make but it tastes much better. Yunho likes to think that red stands for love and so it’s fitting that the red pill produces meat. It’s chicken and not just any kind of chicken but good old fashion fried chicken. It takes a little practice to make the skin extra crisp but Yunho’s got it down perfectly. Two twists of the knob and a little breather at the fifteen minute mark will get the skin to crisp nicely and he finds that if he leaves it in there for an extra thirty seconds, the skin crunches when he bites into it.

Changmin-centric | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

Changmin jumps off a bridge when he’s twenty. He leaps off one of the most iconic bridges in the country, biking onto Brookly Bridge and without a moment’s hesitation, dives into the ocean. He doesn’t die. Changmin’s fall is dulled by the fact that there’s a garbage ship passing at that exact moment and instead of ending up in the dirty waters of the Hudson, he finds himself face first in week old garbage.

Back in the hospital, where he’s wrapped in layers of gauze and has a leg hooked up into the air, Changmin tries to yank out his IV tube and heart monitor as well. It works in all the movies and in ER except-

“That only works when you’re on life support,” someone says from the doorway.

Right. Of course it only works when the patient is on life support. A group of nurses and doctors rush in screaming “Code Blue! Code Blue!!” only to see that he’s still alive and kicking. They leave after a stern reprimand and a wave to the boy in the wheelchair.

“So you’re that jumper, yeah?”

Changmin perks up when he hears his new nickname, “Jumper? Is that what they’re calling me?”

“The nurses, yeah. Brooklyn Bridge right? I thought they ad barriers up after the last guy jumped from there.”

Changmin shakes his head proudly, sitting up a little so he can see the person he’s currently talking to, “Nope. There’s a two feet gap between one of the gates. It broke last week.”

Despite what most might think, Changmin does not have a death wish. He’s not hell bent on dying and he’s not sick of living his life either. No, what Changmin craves and loves is what they call a jumper’s high. There’s such an exhilaration and rush of adrenaline that comes with jumping that he doesn’t expect others to know.

“It’s my fifth bridge. I started with the tiny one on campus but all that did was break my ankle. There was another one that I tried and somehow I got hooked onto a stone as I was falling and tore my arm out of its socket but I didn’t die.”

As much as Changmin loves to jump, he doesn’t actually want to die. And each time he tries, he manages to live just by a tiny string of luck. It’s about time it wears out. The next time he jumps, it’s off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. What can he say, he wanted to end his spring break on a high note.

But yet again, he doesn’t die. What does happen is a concussion and as much as Changmin hates to admit it, maybe it’s time to hang up his metaphoric jumping shoes.

“You know,” the boy in the wheelchair says, visiting him for the tenth time this week, “there is such a thing as drugs in this world. Ecstasy, cocaine, marijuana and even adrenaline shots. You don’t have to keep jumping off buildings to get high.”

Changmin considers it but shakes his head, “All that stuff is expensive.”

“There’s always alcohol. Vodka works for me or a cigarette. Or,” the boy says, smirking a little, “there’s something else completely free and I’ll even walk to through it. It’s completely natural.”

“What’s it called?”

“An orgasm.”

gen-dbsk | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

They’re kind of like the Fantastic Four. Except less fantastic and a little more prone to fucking things up.

Yunho’s the mad scientist. He’s the one that gets to be the stretchy guy. Except unlike Reed, he can’t twist his arms or re-shape his body to infinite proportions. He can however, lengthen and twist his cock to fit into the tightest of holes. The farthest he’s reached yet is three feet.

Changmin somehow winds up as the semi-invisible man. He’s working on the logistics still of this whole bending light to make himself invisible deal so sometimes it works and usually it doesn’t. He does have a bitching forcefield though. Changmin’s gotten so good at it that even Yunho can’t penetrate through his shield and it’s particularly useful for when he wants some space considering how cramped their apartment is with four grown men in it.

Junsu gets stuck with being the Thing. He doesn’t care much for it especially since it messes with his ability to play video games properly, especially on the wii. He’d broken ten controls before Changmin banned him permanently from playing with them. Out of them all, he’s the one with the most control of his abilities, which when they all think about it, makes sense. Junsu’s always had the most motor control so it shouldn’t matter whether he’s a petite 5ft 5 or a bulky 8ft.

Of course that leaves Jaejoong with the ability to flame and flame he does. He even prefers it when the others call him the human torch, delighting in how he can fly if he concentrates hard enough. And if Changmin doesn’t put up invisible shields all over the place, Jaejoong can even stay in the air for more then three minutes. The main problem though is that his ability to control fire is iffy at best. Jaejoong finds it hard to concentrate on anything for a long time and so he’ll begin to spark and sometimes even light up to his waist but once he gets to his neck, it dies down again.

The other problem with Jaejoong being able to flame is that he reeks of smoke. Half the time he has embers in his hair and smokey ashes all over his clothes. It’s annoying to say the least and after they’ve been kicked out of their favorite bar for smoking when really Jaejoong had just been a little burnt, he gets pissed enough to actually set himself and a whole row of trees on fire. Now if only he had that control when they needed it. Like during the blackout last week.

Jaejoong/Yoochun | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

Jaejoong has eight older sisters and sometimes being the only one in the family with male testosterone gets to him. He’s taught to cook dinner and how to bake a perfectly moist cake and somewhere along the way, he’s also taught how to make a girl happy and how to treat a woman with respect always. His sisters love him like he’s one of them, which is something he’s grateful for considering how he’s adopted.

He doesn’t know how the habit develops but he starts to make a routine out of leaving his house early in the mornings to run out to the corner phone booth. No one uses phone booths anymore, they’re antiquated, faulty and often filled with liquids that should never be seen somewhere outside of the bathroom. But Jaejoong loves things that are slightly broken and he finds a charm in flipping open the phonebook and calling a random number.

Sometimes those on the receiving end of his calls don’t appreciate it though. He gets a lot of hang-ups and a lot of fuck yous, one even threatened to cut off his balls and skewer them in the local park for all to see. Jaejoong likes the anonymity with using a public phone. No one ever bothers to call him back and even when they do, he answers with a fake name and an equally gruff “go fuck yourself”.

He also likes to play pretend. The first call he makes he had pretended to be a car salesman down on his luck and stranded somewhere with no one else to call. The old lady that picked up was worried and actually sent a patrol car out for where he had told her he was waiting with a flat tire. The second call he places, he’s a delivery boy trying to find the right address for a special package from 1800-COCKS GALORE. Unfortunately the joke had been lost on the man that picked up the phone and he gets a dial tone for his efforts.

Jaejoong’s playing the role of a down and out prostitute when he first calls Yoochun. To Yoochun’s credit, he had actually played along up until Jaejoong was prompted to pay an extra nickel for another two minutes. Too bad he only brings out enough change to make two calls or else Jaejoong would’ve continued their conversation. He’s actually dying to find out if Yoochun’s really masturbating or not.

For the next few months, Jaejoong’s simultaneously a chef, a flowerboy, a superhero and a fireman, not to mention an undercover cop pretending to sell Yoochun drugs. Yoochun’s always a good sport and he replies accordingly to whatever Jaejoong’s pretending to be, never questioning why he calls or what his name even is.

The last day of summer before Jaejoong’s due to go back to college in another state, he calls Yoochun one last time and when the younger man asks who he’s pretending to be this time, he answers “Jaejoong”. He hangs up that night with a cell number tucked into his back pocket and a smile on his face.

Changmin/Yunho | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

I love you.

Those are the three words currently floating above Yunho’s head. Changmin stares at them for long enough so that the words actually disappear and Yunho has to rethink them for them to pop back up. He’s getting a little nervous. It’s the first time he’s thought of these three words and actually meant it.

There’d been that boy the year before he met Changmin. That was fun but Yunho was in it for the sex and the most he’d ever done was moan. They barely had conversations that lasted more than five lines. Then there was that other boy a month after he met Changmin. He was very cute and it might’ve worked out, if he hadn’t been straight. Then there was Changmin. The younger man writes in a beautiful type 12 Georgia font, simple a neat and just a hint of class. It’s the perfect match to his type 13 Arial.

The screen above Changmin’s head blanks out for a while and there’s only three tiny dots on it for the longest time. Long enough for Yunho to consider taking his words back and just long enough for him to pull the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee, four new words to replace the three.

Will you marry me?

This time Changmin responds before the words are even completely out, kissing him and kissing him until they’re both on the floor, screens squished and cracking as they roll around together. Their screens are out of commission for the next week as they await new shipment from France but that’s alright, what they do in that one week doesn’t need words anyway.

The day after their screens arrive, Changmin’s helping Yunho with his, unwrapping the new battery and putting it into the slot. He loads the updates as they eat breakfast and it’s only when they both type at the same time that Changmin realizes there’s a problem with their dashboards.

Je t’aime

Et si on couchait ensemble

They blink and while Changmin considers returning the boards, he thinks it’s probably better they do what Yunho’s suggesting first. After all, when has he ever refused sex?

Yoochun/Jaejoong | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

“You’re dying of a broken heart,” is what the doctor tells him one Friday afternoon. It’s a shitty day anyway, been dreary all day and now it’s hailing and storming like nobody’s business. Figures he’d get the news that he’s dying on a day like today.

Changmin laugh when Yoochun tells him the news. Then he blinks and then he drops his chopsticks, staring widely at his oldest friend, “Are you serious? Can’t they fix it? I thought they discovered some new medication last year that’ll fix up broken hearts.”

Yoochun picks a shrimp off Changmin’s bowl of rice, shrugging, “That’s for broken hearts by cause of spousal death. I’m suffering from unrequited love, Changmin, it’s different.”

He has fifteen days left and compared to how long he’s loved Jaejoong and how long he’s been suffering from a broken heart, Yoochun thinks he’s lived plenty.

“It’s a slow death,” his doctor had said, “and if you’d like, we can check you in to ease the pain. The last couple of hours when the heart disintegrates is pretty bad.” Yoochun had shrugged it off just like he shrugs everything off. If he’s managed to deal with the pain so far, then he doesn’t think a few more days of it would hurt much more.

Ten years of loving a man and Yoochun still has let go, not when Jaejoong had gotten married to the pretty girl next door and not when she’d given birth to twins last year. But he can’t be expected to, they’re soulmates.

Yoochun’s known Jaejoong for longer than he’s known Changmin. Jaejoong’s the one that poked at him with the wet end of the baby bottle when they’d been ages 1 and 2 respectively. Jaejoong is the one he grew up next door to, the hyung he always wanted to be and loved since before he really knew how. Jaejoong’s also the first man he kissed and the same man who’d taken his virginity and heart on the same night.

Somehow Jaejoong gets wind of him dying and Yoochun knows it’s probably Changmin who’d leaked it out. He’s a good kid and Yoochun thinks of repaying this deed by shutting off the hot water to Changmin’s apartment right at 6 when the younger man takes his hour long baths.

His soulmate shows up with a six-pack of beer and a bag of take out, letting himself in with the spare key that Yoochun keeps taped under the ceramic turtle. The first thing Jaejoong does is laugh, the familiar hand over his mouth giggle that his friend is so fond of. Then he cries and even Yoochun can’t stop him then. Jaejoong doesn’t cry often because he says it unmanly and because he says nothing is worth crying over. Yoochun thinks he’s proud that his death is one of the things Jaejoong finds worthy of his tears.

“Not even the cigarettes, huh?” Jaejoong whispers as Yoochun holds him. Funny how it’s always the dying that comfort the living. “Or the alcohol,” Yoochun finishes, “it’s my damn heart.”

Somehow they find it funny and they laugh for a while before they get down to business. Out comes the beer and the cigarettes, one last drink and puff for old times sake. Jaejoong doesn’t say a word about the cause of Yoochun’s broken heart and Yoochun doesn’t bring it up either. There’s no need to speak of the obvious.

When Jaejoong leaves that night, Yoochun gets a kiss on the forehead and a hug. It’ll be the last time they see each other, Jaejoong’s wife is due to give birth any day now and Yoochun’s due to die before then.

“I love you,” Jaejoong says as he walks out the door, keeping the key taped to the inside of his jeans pocket.

Yoochun smiles and pushes him away, waving, “Yeah and I love you too, how could I not?”

God and Kpop | pg-13
inspired by | originally posted here

“Heaven is a well-oiled machine,” the tour guide says as he leads a group of newly minted angels past a large office building. “And this building in front of us is known as HQH, short for official headquarters of Heaven and if there is one building you should know the location of, this is it. For the bureaucrats, this is the White House and for the romantics, this is the Eiffel tower. Point is, everything important gets done here.”

He waves them off the property as an alarm sounds. “Sh!” he hisses when one of them tries to speak, “official announcement!”

Right on cue, there’s a monotonous voice that comes over the loudspeakers, “God on line 4, please hold.”

That’s followed by a cackle and an ear-splitting screech similar to microphone feedback and a string of curses before there’s a calmer, much deeper and warm voice that comes on.

“God here. Just wanted to give you all a heads-up that it’s going to be hailing down on earth for the next week complete with torrential winds up to fifty miles an hour. Bring a raincoat and rain boots if you guys are heading down there for assignment.”

There’s an anti-climatic click after that and the monotonous voice returns, “This has been God. Thank you all for your time.”

The tour guide nods in understanding and makes a note on his blackberry, tapping away on the keys as he reminds himself of the new weather advisory. “As I was saying, this is the one building you should all know. You’ll be coming here to get your minicloud permit for your clouds within the coming weeks, not to mention this is also where you’ll be handed your future assignments.”

“Future assignments?” asks a petite girl from the group, blinking in confusion at the tour guide.

He sighs and pockets his blackberry, squinting his eyes as he looks at her, “Miss, you didn’t think angels go to heaven to do nothing did you? I’m sorry to tell you but it’s not the good ones that get to come to heaven, it’s the hardworking ones. Like I said, heaven is a well oiled machine and we all have a job here. Yours will be assigned to you soon. Some of you may become guardians, some of you will be forced to do cleanup work for the screw ups and others will help around, be messengers or designers. We have a wide range of jobs available and as soon as you all fill out these forms for me, you’ll be evaluated on what the position you’re best suited for.”

They’re each handed a stack of forms, a blue pen and directed to fill out the forms and return them as soon as possible to the box at the front of HQH. The tour guide slaps a sticker on each of them and writes neatly in permanent marker on each one, “I’m new to heaven, ask me my name!”

- - -

God works in mysterious ways, or so they say but it’s really not God that fucks things up, it’s the people. A month into autumn of 2009, the idol world is rocked by news of a lawsuit from a group the people hail as the Gods of the East. It’s heartbreaking and it changes all perceptions of relationships between idols and their companies. And it’s a fuck up by one of the angels in the human relations department.

Just a few months after that comes another scandal concerning a different boyband, one going by the name of 2pm and it ends in separation, a group of seven that’s now six. It’s yet another screw up, an angel that accidentally forgets to add a pinch of understanding and humility to the world that day.

There’s a string of mess ups after that. An alcohol incident and another lawsuit. Scandals after scandal and disappointment.

When God starts to get blamed for it all, curses and threats sent his way, he gets mad and decides it’s time to do something about it. He’s not God for nothing, and all it’ll take really is a few strings to be pulled and the messes will be cleaned up but before that…

“God on line 4, please hold.”

There’s no screech this time, just a very pissed off God.

“God here. Knock it off, all of you. Seriously, what the hell?”

Yunho-centric, Homin | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

Every child is given a series of shots when they’re newborns. One for the measles, one for hepatitis B, chicken pox and many more. Some of these are for when they’re two months old and some are for later when their bodies are developed enough to handle the vaccines.

Some parents say that vaccines do more harm than good but not Mrs Jung. Mrs Jung has always been a firm believer in giving her child the best possible body that she could, starting from eating healthy when she was pregnant to breast-feeding when her baby was just a few weeks old. It’s a mother’s nature to always want the best for her child.

So when Yunho’s just three months old and there’s a new experimental vaccine out that boast the ability to make your child loving and always happy, she buys it. The side effects seem harmless to her and she can’t believe it’d ever be a bad thing that her child grows up to be extremely loyal, hardworking and overly affectionate.

Most parents skip the shot because it is experimental and many are distrustful of science these days anyway. They believe in home remedies and cultural medicines.

The day after Yunho gets his shot, he can’t stop smiling, cooing when talked to and laughing when held. He’s a happy baby by nature but now that he’s been given the vaccine, he no longer cries, at least not when his parents are sleeping or can hear.

He grows up to be everything his mother could’ve ever wanted. Smart and loving, kind to everyone he meets and as obedient as a mother could hope. Yunho’s also loyal to a fault, trusting blindly in his friends and so hardworking that he does his job and everyone else’s.

Yunho wears his heart on his sleeve, a literal little heart sewn into the inside of his favorite jacket and while it’s childish, he prefers it that way. He dates and he falls in love and he dates and he falls out of love. It tears him apart each time to have to go repeat the steps only to end up loving too much and receiving too little in return but he can’t help it because he was built that way.

There’s a boy he meets his third year in college. Tall and lanky, someone he thinks he could love and a few months into the semester, that turns into someone he thinks he could fuck as well.

Shim Changmin isn’t anything special, he’s maybe handsomer than most and taller than almost all but he’s also mean and a little shy. Changmin brings him hot chocolate on the cold days and green tea on the warm ones, a tentative smile at first and then sweet kisses instead.

Yunho falls in love and this time, he doesn’t fall out.

Gen-dbsk | pg-13
prompt | originally posted here

Changmin finds Yoochun and Jaejoong in the cab of a truck, both of them tucked under a blanket too thin to ward off the cold. It was Yoochun’s music playing that caught Changmin’s attention, the older man clearly using the mostly dead radio with a still functioning cassette tape player. It’s been a while since Changmin’s heard any voice but his own and Yunho’s and any but those of the cannibals are welcome.

Yoochun’s the one that wakes first, rubbing his eyes when the door swings open, smacking Jaejoong across the arm to wake him up as well.

The first thing they’re offered is a canned fruit cocktail, basically the best of what little Yunho and Changmin have left in stock. The lid is already open, metal a little rusted from being in the open for too long but it’s still good, a few more years to go at least before expiration.

Changmin can tell from the way Yoochun offers the food to Jaejoong first that they’re a couple. Jaejoong only takes a sip and two bites before he offers it back, Yunho tugging Changmin closer to keep warm as they wait for the two to finish eating.

“Heading South,” is what Yunho tells them.

South is where those who are still alive are always headed now. It’s the mythical Eden of their world, land by the ocean where it’s warm and not as windy. Where it won’t snow all day and then rain the next. Yunho’s been planning to go for two years now but Changmin’s always said no. It’s a long journey and chances of survival are low and up until this year, Changmin’s thought that that they’d have better luck up North but he knows better now. They’re headed South.

Unsurprisingly, Yoochun and Jaejoong don’t have much that they call their own. The same thin blanket that Changmin had first seen, a few cassette tapes and a music book.

“Yoochun’s a piano instructor,” Jaejoong explains as they walk on, Yunho pushing the cart in front of them, “and I was his singer at the club. We were getting somewhere, you know? Just signed a big contract and everything, then this happened.”

Story of everyone’s lives. Changmin nods in understanding, reaching out to drop his hand on top of Yunho’s on the cart, pushing along with the older man.

Junsu they find locked in bathroom at an abandoned gas station off highway 1. Scared and tired but none the worse for the wear considering he hadn’t eaten anything in nearly a week. Second to last can of fruit cocktail goes to him.

He’s got no one with him, brother having died right when this all happened and he follows along with them, adding a lighter with some fluid still remaining and bullets for a gun they don’t have.

Yunho-centric | pg-13
inspired by | originally posted here

Yunho sees the ad in the paper and wishes he could tell his human to hold for another decade, that jet packs will be invented in 2018 by a British man trying to fly across the Atlantic and that just a year after that, every man will be issued one by the government.

His human doesn't hear his words when Yunho whispers that the dinner in a pill form is coming soon, maybe sooner than he realizes. It's just two months away from being passed by the FDA for human consumption and there'll be more flavors than anyone imagined possible. Philly cheesesteak in a purple pill and french fries in a light green one, condiments in white pills for salt and grey for pepper with deep red for ketchup. The best thing of all is that a year from now, technology will be so advanced that all it would take is three pills to make a completely Thanksgiving dinner. One pill for the turkey, another for the mashed potatoes and the last for stuffing. Three minutes in the microwave on high to make a meal that use to take hours.

Robotic companions are too far off for Yunho to try and reassure his human of. Not that his human would want a robotic companion anyway. Everyone will jump on that bandwagon when they first come out, humans always so fascinated by new shiny toys. It goes well for a while, robotic companions turning out to be a new best friend and a maid rolled into one except there's a glitch one year in the software update and hundreds of humans will be killed in their sleep by their new toys. The company will claim it as a "malfunction" and after suffering several lawsuits, will declare bankruptcy.

The hovercraft is another popular invention of the future that everyone's told will be available soon but Yunho knows better because soon is never. Hovercrafts will never be invented, not for as long as Yunho's been at his job because it's a highly unstable science to fly in the sky and it's been deemed unsafe for human travel.

Yunho stands by his human's bedside, counting softly to ten before he walks out of the apartment, waiting by the door instead. The last few minutes are always too private and he never feels comfortable intruding on them.

His watch beeps twice and then he hears the gun going off in the apartment, cringing because he's already seen the end a month before coming down to collect his human. Gun shot suicides are the messiest, what with the blood and brain splatter but it's the more surefire way to die. There are not accidental recoveries when a gun is involved, no way the human can be salvaged after a bullet to the brain.

Yunho waits for another minute, his watch beeping just once and opens the door, his human's body on the floor of the living room and his human's soul waiting for him in the doorway. Yunho would've told him that all the things he was promised as a child will come if only he waits a little longer but he didn't because the one thing his human wanted, a cure, will never be invented. Even in Yunho's world, there's no cure for heartbreak.

Gen-dbsk | pg-13
inspired by | originally posted here

In 2029, designer babies become a reality and human procreation becomes extinct.

Yunho’s created on a sunny Friday morning with a touch of a button and a swipe of a card. Instead of being given an x chromosome from his father and a y from his mother, they check off the box under male and gift him with a penis eleven inches long. His hair, they determine, should be black and that his eyes should be a warm brown with a sharp jaw and that unlike most children his age, he’ll be ambidextrous.

He’s given to them with a brand new 250GB hard-drive with a 2.2 GHz ram, just enough of a memory capacity for until he reaches twenty-six before he’ll need additional GBs. Yunho’s four, potty-trained and able to walk when his parents first receive him, something more parents in the 1900s wished and prayed for.

Yunho’s also been given a purple chip for kindness, an orange one for bravery and a yellow one for optimism. The creators decide to add in a strong blue one for leadership and by the time he’s twenty, Yunho is unsurprisingly one of the top idols of their country, in one of the top groups in the continent.

There’s four other boys in his group, ones that he’s mostly in charge of. He tells them when to sleep, eat and get up for work, dictates what they should do in their free time. Working hard is a trait that’s built into Yunho’s hard-drive and therefore comes naturally to him. The group is famous for their singing abilities and their good-looks, not so much for the dancing. And like Yunho, the other four are just as designer as he is.

Jaejoong was created with Gucci shoes on his feet and an LV bag on his arm, designed to be prettier instead of handsome and inherently funny despite not looking it. Jaejoong’s demure and he’s domestic but also a hundred percent man, a cock between his balls that he uses often.

The sweetest one of them all is Junsu. A little short and with a bigger behind than most men, he’s also got one of the more innocent hearts around. Junsu’s not the brightest, he’s only got a 64GB hard-drive in him and his ram is a pathetic 1.66GHz but he more than makes up for it with his personality.

Changmin/Yunho, Jaejoong/Junsu | pg-13
inspired by | originally posted somewhere i cannot remember, lol.
the idea of this fic is that there is a limit as to how much a person can hear in their lifetime and after that period of time, they will lose their hearing slowly as their ears bleed until they become deaf

It’s been a year and a half since Yunho’s heard his name spoken from Changmin’s lips and about eight months since he’s told him to stop trying. The younger man still has his hearing but it’s not going to last for much longer, he’s already starting to bleed in the mornings.

At first it’s just a dull ringing in one ear, usually the left if you’re really going to lose your hearing soon (because the right signifies water in the ear) and that’s followed by the constant need to pop your eardrums. They start to mishear things after that. Wore becomes whore and lock the door is now cock the floor. It’s funny at first, the teens find it especially joke-worthy, but the hilarity of the situation usually wears off a couple of hours later when they’re screaming at you to watch out for a bus that you don’t hear honking.

Despite all the signs that foretell the loss of hearing, no one ever really knows when it’ll happen. It’s different for everyone, sometimes the doctors will say that it’s based on the types of food eaten and then the next year they’ll announce that it’s due to hereditary reasons. As far as anyone knows, it’s just something that happens. There’s no cure, no special antidote and certainly no vaccine to take. That’s because it’s not a disease, it’s a misfortune.

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Date: 2010-04-01 02:06 am (UTC)

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