Epik High; Tablo!centric; Brilliant
Title: Brilliant
Fandom: Epik High
Pairing: Tablo!centric
Word Count: 1,240
Rating: G
Summary: a look at Tablo(? idk i just wrote)
Genre: fluff, i suppose
A/N: So idk if this is up to my normal post standards, because I only beta'd it twice, and i think im a little bit partial, and too biased to say, lol. oh well, i think its cool, but then again i wrote it, so yeah. I really need to keep posting, and i need to work on my damn kyumin super!smut so that i can finally post it. Im still unsure on whether or not i should post a sequel to the Sihanchul, and i kinda want to but i also really dont, 1.) because it gives me more shiz to have to finish and 2.) because if it sucks its just going to drag down the whole thing. i rather like where it's at now. Idk, ill play around with the idea some more. If i dont post a response in a month, its probably not happening. w/e. the new wonder girls, lee hyori, and dbsk vids are ruling my life. but i love. so its okay. ♥
(for schm0use because i love her and she loves tablo and its just a whole big circle of love!)
(also for nodo because Lord knows i've been keeping her waiting and im sorry lol)
Tablo looks at himself in the mirror and adjusts the white fedora perched on his head before he smoothes his hands down the front of his white button down shirt, grey vest and tie. His eyes roam over his tailored torso before examining the tight black pants and studded belt, ending in black shoes with white details. He steps back, regarding his reflection. Its not his favorite black hoodie and jeans, but its not bad either; it’s still Tablo. He waves at himself in the mirror, smiling lightly, before leaving to go join Mithra and Tukutz as they get ready to perform.
***
Tablo has always been somewhat of an introvert. He has a quiet voice and he thinks before he speaks, wanting to make sure that he says what he means and means what he says. Tablo is thoughtful, creative, and complicated. Sometimes he feels like he cant even begin to unravel the knot that is his personality. Sometimes he tries, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just writes, and that normally does the trick. Tablo writes and writes. Tablo writes some more. It’s what he does. He thinks and he writes. He hums things to himself when he’s walking down the street, but he’s too lost in himself to notice some of the odd glances he gets, though they don’t matter anyway. Tablo likes to sit outside in the rain. He thinks it’s beautiful. Sometimes he wonders if the sky is crying because a child has died, or a love has faded. When he thinks this, he goes inside and writes it down.
Tablo’s house is neat. He likes to clean. His room, however, is messy. Tablo figures that it’s his space, so it’s allowed to be messy if he wants it to be messy. The rest of the house he keeps tidy so that when Mithra and Tukutz come over without his knowledge, they don’t have anything to poke around in. He’s also taken to wearing pants around the house. He doesn’t like to, since it’s his house, but last time Mithra and Tukutz came over unannounced…well…he doesn’t want to be on T.V. without pants again.
Tablo seems fairly normal, but for some reason everyone can tell he’s not. Not like it’s a secret, even though it kind of is. He shuffles things about him around, so that to anyone he should seem like the most normal person in the world, but somehow his oddities are always exposed. Still, he’s gotten used to this. So the world knows that Tablo makes and collects hundreds of little dolls under his glass coffee table. That’s okay. Tablo still freaks out a bit when Mithra pulls off the cover hiding his collection, but the camera crew has already honed in on the fan-pleasing embarrassment, so he decides to give up on trying to be normal. It’s really a difficult thing to pretend when you have friends like Mithra and Tukutz. (Tablo also freaks out a bit more when Mithra snaps off the head of one of his dolls, so there goes the hope of retaining masculinity, too.)
Sometimes, Tablo scares himself. Sometimes, when he sits in his room and its dark and he’s been writing and thinking and writing some more, he thinks too far and then he has to pull back, afraid of what he might see. Tablo is only afraid of two things: bugs, and himself. He’s afraid of what his mind might tell him, things that he knows are locked in his subconscious but he can’t dwell on them because they’re either horribly beautiful or beautifully horrible. So sometimes, Tablo tries to push the safety zone he’s set up within his imagination, but a lot of the times he doesn’t. Some things just aren’t meant to be messed around with, and Tablo figures his mind is one of them. He doesn’t want to end up in the loony bin, thanks.
Tablo has some good friends, and he has some best friends, and then he has his band mates, who sometimes he likes to call them best friends but other times he likes to call them psychotic. And then Tablo has his best friend that died. That best friend died a best friend, so even though he’s no longer around, and Tablo has had to pull others into that position to fill the place he left, he died a best friend so naturally he stays a best friend. He helped make Tablo what he was, after all; he inspired him to become what he is today. Tablo thinks that rather deserves the “best friend” title. Tablo met some good friends while he was at Stanford. Creative Writing people are like Screenwriting people or Theater people; they’re absolutely insane, but you love them because you are too. Tablo also has Hyukjae. He doesn’t know what category he falls into, but then maybe he doesn’t fall into one at all. He’s still figuring it out. There’s also Mithra and Tukutz, but Tablo figures that explains it all. They can have their own category.
Tablo knows that he’s a little different (Mithra says Tablo’s not different, that he’s what people like to call “special” when they don’t want to hurt other’s feelings by what they really mean). Tablo knows that he’s a little bit risky, a little bit scary. He knows that if his mind scares him just a bit, then it certainly scares the shit out of the entertainment industry. Tablo knows that sometimes, his mind is just too much, too big, for an outlet so small, so sometimes he keeps himself to himself. It kind of comes off as timid, but Tablo is just doing what does. In all honesty, Tablo doesn’t think he’s dangerous. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s rather safe, and maybe even a little bit boring. But he likes that about him, likes the way he doesn’t need to talk all the time. He likes the way his dim room is strewn with crumpled up pieces of paper from when he writes and writes and writes. He likes the way his dolls (he prefers to call them figures) are neatly arranged under his coffee table. He likes the way sometimes he can just sit and listen, when he knows that a lot of people can’t. He likes the way a simple black hoodie, jeans, and chucks work just fine for him.
So as he looks at himself in the mirror, at the tailored, fashionable outfit arranged on his slim frame, he waves at himself like the little dork he is. He knows that this image in the mirror is just another piece of himself, another piece of his personality, another piece of his life. Tablo embraces this side of him, he knows he’s and entertainer and he knows this is for the fans. He loves this bit of himself, just as much as he loves the rest of himself, all the other little bits that lie in the back of his mind until he brings them out, one by one or a few at a time.
Tablo smiles at himself in the mirror again. In his mind, he tells himself he’s a dork. He’s a humble person. As he walks away to go join his band mates, he’s too humble to admit that sometimes, on the rare occasion, he also tells himself he’s brilliant.
But that’s because he is. Tablo is brilliant.
***
Fandom: Epik High
Pairing: Tablo!centric
Word Count: 1,240
Rating: G
Summary: a look at Tablo(? idk i just wrote)
Genre: fluff, i suppose
A/N: So idk if this is up to my normal post standards, because I only beta'd it twice, and i think im a little bit partial, and too biased to say, lol. oh well, i think its cool, but then again i wrote it, so yeah. I really need to keep posting, and i need to work on my damn kyumin super!smut so that i can finally post it. Im still unsure on whether or not i should post a sequel to the Sihanchul, and i kinda want to but i also really dont, 1.) because it gives me more shiz to have to finish and 2.) because if it sucks its just going to drag down the whole thing. i rather like where it's at now. Idk, ill play around with the idea some more. If i dont post a response in a month, its probably not happening. w/e. the new wonder girls, lee hyori, and dbsk vids are ruling my life. but i love. so its okay. ♥
(for schm0use because i love her and she loves tablo and its just a whole big circle of love!)
(also for nodo because Lord knows i've been keeping her waiting and im sorry lol)
Tablo looks at himself in the mirror and adjusts the white fedora perched on his head before he smoothes his hands down the front of his white button down shirt, grey vest and tie. His eyes roam over his tailored torso before examining the tight black pants and studded belt, ending in black shoes with white details. He steps back, regarding his reflection. Its not his favorite black hoodie and jeans, but its not bad either; it’s still Tablo. He waves at himself in the mirror, smiling lightly, before leaving to go join Mithra and Tukutz as they get ready to perform.
***
Tablo has always been somewhat of an introvert. He has a quiet voice and he thinks before he speaks, wanting to make sure that he says what he means and means what he says. Tablo is thoughtful, creative, and complicated. Sometimes he feels like he cant even begin to unravel the knot that is his personality. Sometimes he tries, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just writes, and that normally does the trick. Tablo writes and writes. Tablo writes some more. It’s what he does. He thinks and he writes. He hums things to himself when he’s walking down the street, but he’s too lost in himself to notice some of the odd glances he gets, though they don’t matter anyway. Tablo likes to sit outside in the rain. He thinks it’s beautiful. Sometimes he wonders if the sky is crying because a child has died, or a love has faded. When he thinks this, he goes inside and writes it down.
Tablo’s house is neat. He likes to clean. His room, however, is messy. Tablo figures that it’s his space, so it’s allowed to be messy if he wants it to be messy. The rest of the house he keeps tidy so that when Mithra and Tukutz come over without his knowledge, they don’t have anything to poke around in. He’s also taken to wearing pants around the house. He doesn’t like to, since it’s his house, but last time Mithra and Tukutz came over unannounced…well…he doesn’t want to be on T.V. without pants again.
Tablo seems fairly normal, but for some reason everyone can tell he’s not. Not like it’s a secret, even though it kind of is. He shuffles things about him around, so that to anyone he should seem like the most normal person in the world, but somehow his oddities are always exposed. Still, he’s gotten used to this. So the world knows that Tablo makes and collects hundreds of little dolls under his glass coffee table. That’s okay. Tablo still freaks out a bit when Mithra pulls off the cover hiding his collection, but the camera crew has already honed in on the fan-pleasing embarrassment, so he decides to give up on trying to be normal. It’s really a difficult thing to pretend when you have friends like Mithra and Tukutz. (Tablo also freaks out a bit more when Mithra snaps off the head of one of his dolls, so there goes the hope of retaining masculinity, too.)
Sometimes, Tablo scares himself. Sometimes, when he sits in his room and its dark and he’s been writing and thinking and writing some more, he thinks too far and then he has to pull back, afraid of what he might see. Tablo is only afraid of two things: bugs, and himself. He’s afraid of what his mind might tell him, things that he knows are locked in his subconscious but he can’t dwell on them because they’re either horribly beautiful or beautifully horrible. So sometimes, Tablo tries to push the safety zone he’s set up within his imagination, but a lot of the times he doesn’t. Some things just aren’t meant to be messed around with, and Tablo figures his mind is one of them. He doesn’t want to end up in the loony bin, thanks.
Tablo has some good friends, and he has some best friends, and then he has his band mates, who sometimes he likes to call them best friends but other times he likes to call them psychotic. And then Tablo has his best friend that died. That best friend died a best friend, so even though he’s no longer around, and Tablo has had to pull others into that position to fill the place he left, he died a best friend so naturally he stays a best friend. He helped make Tablo what he was, after all; he inspired him to become what he is today. Tablo thinks that rather deserves the “best friend” title. Tablo met some good friends while he was at Stanford. Creative Writing people are like Screenwriting people or Theater people; they’re absolutely insane, but you love them because you are too. Tablo also has Hyukjae. He doesn’t know what category he falls into, but then maybe he doesn’t fall into one at all. He’s still figuring it out. There’s also Mithra and Tukutz, but Tablo figures that explains it all. They can have their own category.
Tablo knows that he’s a little different (Mithra says Tablo’s not different, that he’s what people like to call “special” when they don’t want to hurt other’s feelings by what they really mean). Tablo knows that he’s a little bit risky, a little bit scary. He knows that if his mind scares him just a bit, then it certainly scares the shit out of the entertainment industry. Tablo knows that sometimes, his mind is just too much, too big, for an outlet so small, so sometimes he keeps himself to himself. It kind of comes off as timid, but Tablo is just doing what does. In all honesty, Tablo doesn’t think he’s dangerous. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s rather safe, and maybe even a little bit boring. But he likes that about him, likes the way he doesn’t need to talk all the time. He likes the way his dim room is strewn with crumpled up pieces of paper from when he writes and writes and writes. He likes the way his dolls (he prefers to call them figures) are neatly arranged under his coffee table. He likes the way sometimes he can just sit and listen, when he knows that a lot of people can’t. He likes the way a simple black hoodie, jeans, and chucks work just fine for him.
So as he looks at himself in the mirror, at the tailored, fashionable outfit arranged on his slim frame, he waves at himself like the little dork he is. He knows that this image in the mirror is just another piece of himself, another piece of his personality, another piece of his life. Tablo embraces this side of him, he knows he’s and entertainer and he knows this is for the fans. He loves this bit of himself, just as much as he loves the rest of himself, all the other little bits that lie in the back of his mind until he brings them out, one by one or a few at a time.
Tablo smiles at himself in the mirror again. In his mind, he tells himself he’s a dork. He’s a humble person. As he walks away to go join his band mates, he’s too humble to admit that sometimes, on the rare occasion, he also tells himself he’s brilliant.
But that’s because he is. Tablo is brilliant.
***