as the world caves in

a/n: i once promised tiya @gyubakeries that the first mingyu fic I write would be for her.(also promised to make sure it would be heartbreaking but today is her birthday and I'd rather not do that so) happy happy birthday tiya!!! I love you very much thank you for listening to me yap abt anything and everything and I hope you have an awesome day and year ahead 💙💙💙 and ofc happy 10th anniversary to svt 🤧🥹!!!!

DAY 256, 20:03 PM

“Hey. It’s just me, checking in. Hope everything is still okay on your end.”

“I’m making stew again tonight. Seokmin and I went out to town to see if there were any stores that had stocked stuff still. Found a heap of heatable food which was surprising, but we’re good for the next week or so… I think. Unless the expiry dates are sooner.”

You hear him shuffle around, hear the rustling of plastic and the distant murmur of the friend he’s made. You can almost see Mingyu, his broad shoulders hunched over the packet, lips pursed in concentration as he figures out what more to do with it.

Fade In / Fade Out

a/n: this was a very impulsive thing that i wrote inspired after reading jenson button's autobiography (LOL?). it's not explicitly romantic because honestly i wasn't sure if i wanted it to be but feel free to interpret it in whichever way you'd like. i was more or less just experimenting with how i could write it. fi/fo has been in the drafts for a few months now, and i've come to like it more in the meantime, which is surprising because i think leaving stuff in my drafts just ends up in me overanalysing and not being satisfied with it anymore. but i hope you guys like this one as much as i do !! and thank you so much rae ( @nerdycheol ) for beta-ing this for me in a time where i was pretty unsure of this piece of work <3 woozi will be missed so much and i wish him good health and happiness until we see him again 🤎

IT BEGINS, AS MOST THINGS END, WITH ABSENCE. The spotlight, the adrenaline that, at times, felt so suffocating and controlling, the constant feeling of being an imposter—they're all gone. In fact, you’ve started to think that you don’t miss him either.

Not in the mornings when your plants lean toward the light. Not when you bike home from the market with your headphones in. Not even when your fingers find an old chord on instinct, when you walk into a store and hear his songs playing, when your social media shows you their new releases, new clips, new tours. 

CHASING THE FRONT PT.1

glossary taglist

a/n: there we go... longest one yet LOL. writing this was an experience and in tiya's words i have become a classified yapper indeed. i have many people to thank for this and it will go long, but bear with me guys: hershey ( @junplusone ) without her this fic would not have been here so soon and i would not have had the motivation, honestly. rae ( @nerdycheol ) and hershey have sat through me screaming about literally everything about this fic and MORE. ty for being my no.1 hypegirl <3. And to jay ( @ppyopulii) and the others on the server, THANK YOU for the sprints!!! (we actually went for four straight hours one day. it was insane.) this was actually the easiest fic (half lie.) to write in the series :) my two biases and my fav team. hope you guys enjoy this one!!

UNITED KINGDOM, BRACKLEY

Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 HQ January 2nd

It rains the whole drive up. Not dramatic—just a constant, steady kind of downpour that blurs the windows and makes everything look a little less saturated than it already is. In the passenger seat, Joshua’s manager, Minghao, mutters that it feels like a bad omen. But Joshua’s lived in the UK long enough to get used to it. The sight of M40 with clouds hanging low, grey and heavy is not something new—he’s made the trip from London a hundred times in his last three years with Williams.

By the time they reach, the rain finally lets up. Joshua isn’t attacked by slow, thick droplets of water, but instead by the fresh, grassy smell from the lawn and the cold chill that hangs around Brackley. He steps out of the car and breathes in the frozen air, hands on his hips as he looks at the building in front of him. His new home from now on.

Genuinely one of my absolute favorite fics, I love me a good F1 au and this just scratches that itch omg

PROJECT: KILL SWITCH [PT.1]

a/n: first time writing this genre but i couldn't be more excited bcs it's been so fun doing this!! big thank you to the number #1 woozidan @shinysobi for betaing <33 as always comments/asks/reblogs are always appreciated!!!

In the thirty minutes you’ve been in the Wastelands, your respirator has transitioned from rhythmic clicks to irregular, mechanical whirs—dry and grating sounds that suggest the internal fans are choking on the dust they're supposed to filter.  You stop, bracing one gloved hand against the jagged, rusted ribcage of a downed freighter. Using your other hand to tighten the seal around your nose and mouth, you take a slow, rattling inhale, tasting metal, and wonder for the thousandth time why you haven't just shot Vernon yet.

Pointing Towards You

THE WAREHOUSE ALWAYS SMELLS STRONGLY OF INK AND DAMP WOOD.

The sound of spilled kruge rings in your ears and the tang of Zemeni dyes clings to your clothes long after you leave. You’ve grown used to it in the weeks since you arrived in Ketterdam, though some mornings the scent presses too close, reminding you too much of the ship that brought you here and the silence that met you when you stepped off it.

Today, the foreman’s temper adds its own edge to the air.

Pointing Towards You

THE WAREHOUSE ALWAYS SMELLS STRONGLY OF INK AND DAMP WOOD.

The sound of spilled kruge rings in your ears and the tang of Zemeni dyes clings to your clothes long after you leave. You’ve grown used to it in the weeks since you arrived in Ketterdam, though some mornings the scent presses too close, reminding you too much of the ship that brought you here and the silence that met you when you stepped off it.

Today, the foreman’s temper adds its own edge to the air.

A Midsummer Carat's Dream

Welcome to the studioSVT Birthday Event! ✨A Midsummer Carat's Dream✨ is our way of thanking you for a wonderful 2 years, and we're handing the typewriters out in an open invitation to all! Find out how you can participate below.

HOW IT WORKS:

We have curated a list of prompts consisting of dialogue, premises, and openings below. Pick one (or more!) of the prompts and include them in one of your writings. Post it on Tumblr according to the guidelines below and we will reblog it!

GUIDELINES:

Note: Anonymous asks have been turned off temporarily to effectively and privately answer questions pertaining to the event. Please read through the guidelines before sending an ask.

PROMPTS:

Pointing Towards You

THE WAREHOUSE ALWAYS SMELLS STRONGLY OF INK AND DAMP WOOD.

The sound of spilled kruge rings in your ears and the tang of Zemeni dyes clings to your clothes long after you leave. You’ve grown used to it in the weeks since you arrived in Ketterdam, though some mornings the scent presses too close, reminding you too much of the ship that brought you here and the silence that met you when you stepped off it.

Today, the foreman’s temper adds its own edge to the air.

Pointing Towards You

THE WAREHOUSE ALWAYS SMELLS STRONGLY OF INK AND DAMP WOOD.

The sound of spilled kruge rings in your ears and the tang of Zemeni dyes clings to your clothes long after you leave. You’ve grown used to it in the weeks since you arrived in Ketterdam, though some mornings the scent presses too close, reminding you too much of the ship that brought you here and the silence that met you when you stepped off it.

Today, the foreman’s temper adds its own edge to the air.

Pointing Towards You

THE WAREHOUSE ALWAYS SMELLS STRONGLY OF INK AND DAMP WOOD.

The sound of spilled kruge rings in your ears and the tang of Zemeni dyes clings to your clothes long after you leave. You’ve grown used to it in the weeks since you arrived in Ketterdam, though some mornings the scent presses too close, reminding you too much of the ship that brought you here and the silence that met you when you stepped off it.

Today, the foreman’s temper adds its own edge to the air.

post like nobody's watching, reblog like you've never been blocked; dm like no one is offline, and rpf like they actually fucked

Me: okay I am done talking about this thing that's upsetting me. Bye.

*literally two seconds later*: AND ANOTHER THING