#dirty works editorial

[laszonasabisales]

Harry Crews - El artista del KO. Traducción Javier Lucini. Dirty Works

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

11/1/25 update: i apologize for how slow this is taking😭 yes, i still am 100% fully committed to finishing this series! I ask for your patience and understanding🫶🏼

[mentoslol]

forgive me father for im insane

[schraubd]

New Frontiers of Darkness

The Washington Post has unveiled its new slogan to supplement (in practice, supplant) the old "Democracy Dies in Darkness": "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." I can't tell you how much I hate this. First of all, even out of context, it sounds both comically corporate and unbearably patronizing. "Riveting storytelling for all of America" sounds like how to market the Scholastic Book Fairs for emerging readers, not one of America's papers of record. But of course, we must take this slogan in context. And the context is the Post spending the last few months humiliating itself and dynamiting its journalistic credibility by repeated acts of groveling towards the MAGA movement. And I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but this slogan really encapsulates the media's self-delusion that it is part of the liberal family. Again, recall my thesis here: the media thinks its main audience is liberals, and so it sees its job as to challenge liberals with "alternative perspectives" or "competing views" (as opposed to just telling the truth and letting the chips fall where they may). One implication of this is that conservatives are a growth audience (because of course the Post in its prior manifestation couldn't be speaking to them) -- this is what "for all of America" means. We're no longer speaking just to the latte-sipping coastal elites, but to all of America. And lest you think I'm projecting, they're being quite explicit that this is what they mean: Mr. Bezos, the founder of Amazon, has made comments in line with the new mission statement in conversations with Post journalists in recent years, according to two people familiar with those discussions. Mr. Bezos has expressed hopes that The Post would be read by more blue-collar Americans who live outside coastal cities, mentioning people like firefighters in Cleveland. He has also said that he is interested in expanding The Post’s audience among conservatives, the people said. Now nominally, recognizing that conservatives are part of the audience could mean that the Post starts committing to telling them things they don't want to hear. For example, they could be informed, in no uncertain terms, how Trump's tariffs will crush working families with spiraling grocery bills. Or they could be told, in clear-eyed fashion, of how Trump's inner circle is proposing increasingly fascistic and lawless abuses of government power. Or they could be shown, without varnish or spin, how the Republican Party has begun to view sexual assault and rape as virtues in its political leaders -- not even a secret to be ashamed of, but as an affirmative basis for support and promotion. But of course, we all know that is not what Bezos and his cronies have in mind. "Riveting storytelling" suggests that what they want is sensation and soothing -- to reaffirm their (new) readers' priors, never to challenge them with something as dirty and discomforting as the truth. Conservatives can't tolerate hearing that Donald Trump was a grotesquely unsuitable choice for the presidency, and so the Post (even in its editorial endorsements) won't aggravate them. The Post knows that many if not most of Trump's cabinet picks fail the most basic (by the Post's own lights!) criteria of qualification for office in a democratic society -- respecting the outcomes of a democratic process -- and so the Post will just pretend it doesn't matter. The Scholastic Book Fair analogy is more than snark, for this is of a piece with the broader trend of infantilizing the American right. Conservatives, once again, are being treated as children, and spoiled children as that -- whatever junk keeps their attention, that's what will be provided.  A once great newspaper, reduced to an entertaining diversion for spoiled, coddled brats. Maybe the slogan isn't so bad after all. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/lpZWSRu

[mulloey]

the promotion • wooyoung

wooyoung is your rival for a promotion at work, and you’d both do anything to get it

inspired by the devil wears prada.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: office!au, coworker!wooyoung, bosses!seonghwa and hongjoong. bisexual characters, implied switch!wooyoung, workplace rivalry. hate sex, let’s-see-who’s-really-better-sex, semi-public sex (nightclub bathroom), some spanks, some dirty talk, honestly mild for me but still pretty filthy

—————

From the day you started working here, Wooyoung’s been your nemesis. And that’s not an exaggeration — he said so himself, the very first time you walked through the doors to your shared office, clutching your bags and books and essential items and desperately trying to make it to your desk without dropping anything.

“Hi,” you’d said to him, still breathless as you introduced yourself.

He looked up from the desk, narrow eyes piercing through the silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He’d looked you up and down, pursing his lips before letting out a huff, rolling his eyes. “I’m Wooyoung,” he’d said. “And I’m next in line for the promotion. So until I get it you can consider me your enemy.”

It hadn’t taken you long to find out what he’d meant — as the two junior executive assistants to Kim Hongjoong, editor of Vogue Korea and the most powerful man in fashion, you were both on equal footing and of equal importance to Hongjoong. Or at least you would be, were his senior executive assistant, a severe but relatively friendly man named Seonghwa, not leaving his post at the end of the season month — ostensibly to take an editorial position at a rival magazine; though, if Wooyoung and his circle of gossips were to be believed, perhaps due in no small part to his alleged liaisons with the boss. Whatever, you thought, that’s not important — what’s important is the big, gaping, well-paid hole that would be left by Seonghwa’s absence; one that could potentially lead to a position on the editorial board itself. Just like it had for Hongjoong.

Common-sense would, of course, dictate the promotion go to Wooyoung — he’d been here longer and had certainly shown himself to be far more dedicated to the magazine than you, only really here for the work experience, could ever pretend to be. But your work ethic and efficency was something to be reckoned with; and the boss himself, tight-lipped and not at all fond of gossip, had refused to commit either way and, when he’d overheard Wooyoung bragging to a secretary that the job was basically his, had given him a scolding in his office that was so loud it permeated through the closed doors and, you must admit, gave you a great deal of satisfaction. And if Wooyoung hadn’t despised you before, your inability to hide your satisfied smirk as he’d trudged sheepishly back to his desk, certainly gave him reason too. “I’ll kill you,” he’d mouthed in your direction.

“I’ll kill you first,” you’d mouthed back.

In the months since that incident, the area outside Hongjoong’s office, piled with papers and drafts and clip-outs strewn across the two face-to-face desks, the tension has been palpable. Wooyoung refuses to talk to you about anything except work, and you’ve had little desire to change that — from the work-related conversations you have had, you’ve found him to be a bratty, snooty, thoroughly unpleasant person to be around. The only people he doesn’t talk down to are, of course, Seonghwa and Hongjoong themselves, and much to your annoyance, it’s clear they have a soft spot for him; it’s the only explanation for why he hasn’t been fired or demoted after all the times he’s disrespected the CEOs, designers and other editors that pass by his desk. You scoff just thinking about it but you admit you see where they’re coming from — Wooyoung, while unpleasant, is the kind of unpleasant that makes you want to kiss his cheeks as much as throw him through the window. And you can’t deny, he’s attractive in a sultry, magical kind of way, and probably takes better care of himself than you do. His face would be utterly magnificent if only it weren’t wearing a sneer all the time.

Today he’s outdone himself — it’s the day of Seonghwa’s leaving party, the same party where Hongjoong will apparently pull one of you aside and tell you you’ve been promited; ever-dramatic, you’ve found your boss can be. The day of the party and you’ve somehow found yourself without any information or invite. You doubt you’d have even known a party was happening had one of the secretaries not asked you what you were going to wear to it and you’d looked at her with utter confusion. She’d rolled her eyes, clearly realising what had happened; “Ask me who’s organising it,” she’d whispered, and you didn’t need to do so to get the answer — you just had to follow her gaze as it wandered over to Wooyoung’s desk, where he was hard at work looking through some papers.

As she pranced away, declaring it the end of her lunch break, you’d scowled over at Wooyoung — part of you wanted to march over and confront him, but you didn’t want to make a scene. And hey, he’d put a wonderful scheme in place to ensure you looked like a no-show and thereby excluded yourself from consideration for a promotion — he deserved a few more hours of thinking it had been successful. You’d break the news to him at the party, right before Hongjoong whisked you away for your promotion — yes, you wanted it now despite knowing Wooyoung was more deserving. You wanted to beat him.

Pulling up to the club written on the invitation your secretary friend had grabbed for you, you hear the music and chatter of the attendees even before it comes into view. You step out the car, invitation in hand and dressed to impress — you have to be, if you’re going to fit it in here — as you approach the security. You hand them the invitation and your ID, letting them scrutinise you — you look rather young, admittedly — before they nod, allowing you in.

You’re not a club person, never have been — it’s too noisy and crowded and messy for you to have any fun and it’s not like the company on the dance floor is much better — but you must admit, Wooyoung’s done a good job. It’s a classy set up; even the bartenders are clad in formal, butler-like attire that, you note with a giggle, they look utterly incensed to be wearing. No expense has been spared, apparently, certainly not according to the chapagmes listed on the menu handed to you as you walk in — all exquisite and all on-the-house.

You take a few minutes to mingle, circling between the attendees who you’re of varying familiarity with. Seonghwa greets you with a smile, noting your get-up with an appreciative whistle; Hongjoong, too, seems to look at you with almost hungry eyes. That bodes well, you think. Even as you walk away, not wanting to intrude on the conversation they then strike up with another senior editor, you feel their eyes fixed on your retreating form. You’d feel embarrassed and flustered, perhaps even want to do something about it, were you not here as a professional — one with a motive at that. You’re here to get promoted and finally beat Wooyoung, and if you can do that without causing a scandal in the process, it will make your victory even sweeter.

You find Wooyoung pretty quickly after that; though he apparently finds you first, as you’ve barely registered his presence before his hands are on your waist, yanking you towards him in what a stranger may mistake as friendliness. You know better though — he’s mad.

“Who let you in?” He snaps. “How did you even find out about this?”

“Security,” you say. You hold up your invitation, dangling it in his face almost mockingly — no, you may as well be honest here: completely mockingly. “Ahyoung gave this to me.”

“Meddler,” you hear him mutter. You notice his eyes fixed on your dress and with good reason; gold and shimmering, it hugs your curves perfectly and illuminates you in a way you’ve never shown yourself before — certainly not in the office. “You’re wearing that,” he says. You swear he must be drawing blood from how hard he’s biting his lip.

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you say. “I’m wearing that.”

He swallows, and you feel his discomfort as he stares you down. You look good, and you both know it. It’s going to be really, really hard for him to screw you over now — just as you intended. “It looks good,” he says. “Even on you.”

“Drink with me,” you say. He cocks an eyebrow at the change of subject, perhaps expecting you to bite back or get offended by his words; but you’re in the lead now and you want to celebrate. “Come on,” you say.

You grab his wrist, ignoring the pained sound he makes at your tight grip — he deserves that, after the way he’s treated you. Reaching the bar you order five shots of vodka, more than enough to get you where you need to be. True to Wooyoung, he orders six — always needing to outdo you at every turn. You down each of them together, feeling yourself get looser and less inhibited as the bitter alcohol pours down your throat. “Fuck!” You both yell as you finish your last one. You laugh at the coincidence and he smiles too; the first smile he’s ever given to you. It fills you with a strange warmth that the alcohol can’t entirely explain away.

“More?” You ask, gesturing towards the vodka bottle still tantalisingly close on the top of the bar.

Wooyoung chuckles. “As much as I’d love to see you embarrass yourself tonight,” he says, “and believe me, I’d love it, I think we’ve both had enough.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head.

He tilts his head, amused smile on his lips. “I know you are. I have something else in mind.”

—————

You’re not entirely sure how you get here; one minute you’re at the bar with Wooyoung and the next you’re on the dancefloor, hands wrapped tightly around each other's hips as you move to the pounding beats of the music. You’ve discovered now that Wooyoung is, annoyingly, an incredible dancer; his moves are fluid and effortless and entirely in contrast to the intense, scrutinising stare he fixes on you. You try to match his movements but to your chagrin you can’t keep up; he’s a natural.

You feel eyes on you and see you’ve caught the attention of a few of the other attendees, including your bosses, who watch you bemusedly as you dance with your arch-nemesis, the man you’d sworn to destroy — who’d sworn to destroy you. They don’t look surprised, much to your annoyance, and converse with each other with knowing smiles. Huffing, you turn back to Wooyoung, who apparently no longer has any desire to keep his gaze from your chest. Looking down you see your breasts are raised and glistening with sweat, and it’s no wonder he looks so affected. You chuckle; this wasn’t a particular part of your plan, but it could certainly be useful. If you can keep his attention on you — well, on those — you can direct your attention elsewhere, and finally take the winning shot you’ve been gearing for all night. You smile; you’re not as easily distracted as you seem. You came here with a mission and it’s not one a few shots or Wooyoung’s admittedly flustering attention can derail. You’re a winner. You’re going to win.

You lean in closer, letting your lips ghost across his neck in a deliberate, fleeting touch as you raise yourself up to whisper in his ear. “You’re not very subtle, are you?” You say, but above the music it’s more of a yell.

He blushes, an annoyingly cute sight, and shakes his head. “Neither are you,” he says. “I don’t believe for a second you had that dress laying around.”

“Of course I didn’t,” you laugh. “Checked it out of the archives as soon as I found out about your secret party.”

“I invited you,” he says, but his eyes say he knows you know he’s lying. “Perhaps it got lost in the mail.”

You laugh out loud; the alcohol makes it so you have to lie your head on his shoulder to steady yourself. You don’t read into it — but you hope he does. “I’ve heard a lot of stuff gets lost between your desk and mine,” you say. “Briefings, memos… invitations. Lucky I found out, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he replies, and with his gaze still fixed on your chest you get the feeling that this time he’s being genuine.

You him, staring him up and down for a moment as you consider your plan. There’s an easy way out of this — keep distracting him until you can find a moment to speak to Hongjoong, show him why you’d be the best pick in more ways than one. Or you could go the other — riskier, certainly. But the rewards? Oh, the rewards…

And that is how you end up here; this time not for reasons you can excuse or blame on Wooyoung. The bathroom door slams shut behind you as you pull each other in. He locks it carefully, checking it truly is sealed before turning to you, hunger in his eyes — and success in yours.

“Take off my dress,” you say.

He opens his mouth, taken aback. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “I couldn’t have been more clear, Wooyoung. Take off my dress.”

“O…kay,” he says, sounding uncertain. In the lights of the bathroom he’s not very clear, but you see the flush on his face as his shaking hands slowly peel the tight fabric away from your body. When it finally drops to the floor, pooling around your black heels, he gapes; your black, lacy lingerie is a welcome surprise, covering everything and nothing at the same time. “Wow,” he breathes.

“You like it?” You ask, trying to sound unsure — trying to sound modest. Even though you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Of course.”

“Then take yours off, too,” you smile. “We’ll see who really deserves that promotion.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He asks — but he’s pulling his clothes off, so he clearly isn’t too bothered about the correlation. “Just because Seonghwa was fucking Hongjoong doesn’t mean we all have to.”

You snort, rolling your eyes until he finally removes his shirt, exposing his surprisingly toned, tanned and glistening abs. Your mouth waters slightly; you lick your lips in anticipation. He snaps his fingers. “Subtlety, please,” he chuckles.

“Fuck off,” you retort. “And I know we don’t have to fuck Hongjoong. But don’t act like you’re not planning on it.”

He stills for a moment; apparently he hadn’t expected you to say that — or to know that. He huffs. “There goes my edge.”

“So it’s true!” Forgetting where you are, your proclamation comes out as a yell, certainly alerting anyone outside to your presence. Wooyoung hisses in surprise and before you register what he’s doing, clamps his hand over your mouth, muffling you. It’s a rushed, thoughtless act — but it goes straight to your pussy.

You stand there silently for a moment, waiting to see if anyone heard you, if anyone’s going to interrupt you. When they don’t he releases you, looking annoyed. “Keep your fucking voice down,” he mutters. “But yes, it’s true. But I wasn’t going to fuck him to get the job, you know.”

“Right,” you say. “Just as part of the job. But you’re forgetting something, aren’t you, Wooyoung?” He cocks an eyebrow, curious as he awaits your answer. You lean into him, breath hot on his neck as you whisper into his ear, making him shiver involuntarily. “I have a hole too.”

His reaction is instantaneous; without a word he spins you around, harshly bending you over the sink. You lank painfully on your chest, a squeak of surprise leaving you as he slaps your ass a little harder than is playful. “Bitch,” he spits, slapping you again. “Fuck, I hate you so much.”

“So do I,” you snap back.

“You’re ruining my life.”

“So are you!”

“I’m ripping your panties.”

You’re about to reply, not having fully processed his words when before you can stop him you hear the painful sound of expensive, intricate fabrics ripping as he tears them apart to expose your ass and pussy. You shout his name indignantly and he silences you with another slap. “Don’t worry, baby,” he purrs. “I’ll buy you an even nicer pair with my new senior assistant salary.”

“Like hell you will,” you grunt. You writhe in his hold, a tantrum more than an actual indication of displeasure and he chuckles.

“You’re right,” he replies. “If you keep this attitude up, I might just let you take the loss. Hold still.”

You hear rustling behind you before wet fingers poke at your hole, making you gasp — his saliva-covered digits work you open quickly and efficiently before he pulls them out and something much bigger replaces them. You whip your head round in momentary panic, and are both relieved and confused to see a condom sat snugly on his dick. “Where did you get that?” You ask.

He shoots a look at you like it’s supposed to be obvious. “I brought it.”

Your jaw drops slightly before you regain your composure. “You planned this?” You ask, a little incredulous; you feel a little cheated, knowing Wooyoung also had plans for this evening.

“No,” he says. “You did.”

You flush, caught but still hopeful; just because he knows your game doesn’t mean you can’t still win it — it’s your game, after all. “Fine,” you huff. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

He snorts, pushing all the way in and adding a sharp, deep thrust for good measure. “God, you’re fucking rude,” he grumbles. “I’m gonna set you so fucking straight before I become your boss.”

“If you do,” you say, but it’s not quite the winning line you’d hoped for because halfway through Wooyoung starts to move, and he does not ease you into it. He’s not massive but fairly big and fuck if he isn’t skilled — you hadn’t expected it, honestly, especially not from someone as petulant and bratty as Wooyoung. You didn’t think he’d have enough experience… giving… to be this good at it.

As the pace continues to speed up you feel yourself losing your mind a little bit — his hand is tight in your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to stare into the mirror in front of you, traitorously revealing the overwhelmed yet blissed-out expression on your face. Just from your eyes Wooyoung can tell you’ve never been this high before — never been pleasured so deeply and thoroughly and you hate the pleasure it undoubtedly fills him with. God, you hate giving him anything — but you apparently have no problem taking. Your cries get louder, moans strangled and screamed as he goes harder and the hand in your hair moves to clamp over your mouth again. “God,” he growls in your ear. “You just can’t keep fucking quiet, can you?”

You try to reply but it comes out as more of a garbled moan, making you flush and he chuckles. “Alright, baby,” he says. “I’m gonna cum now, then we’ll get you cleaned up so we can go get my promotion. How does that sound?”

From around your pleasure your manage to spit out a “fuck off, Wooyoung,” but rather than pissing him off, it makes him coo. Apparently, you are fucking cute to him now.

“Yeah, baby,” he chuckles. “Keep talking like this. You definitely have the high ground now.”

You groan, both in pleasure and anger as his thrusts get less ordered and more frantic, like he’s chasing something — you know exactly what. You gasp, preparing yourself as the pressure of his hand on your mouth increases.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Keep that hole nice and open for me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes; apparently it feels so good he has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from yelling but you don’t care; not when your own orgasm so quickly follows when he presses a finger to your clit and applies embarrassingly little pressure. He chuckles as you come undone, pulling out of you when you finally collapse and helping you to your feet. “Who’s getting promoted now, do you think?” He grins.

“Fuck,” you groan. “That was so unfair, Wooyoung. You can’t just— do that when I’m trying to get a promotion.”

He snorts, shaking his head at what you admit is audacity on your part. He smiles rather fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “This was your game, sweetheart,” he whispers smugly. “I just played it.”

—————

just a shortish thing that randomly came to me when i was thinking of ideas & also because i havent written any solo wooyoung fics? and i needed to fix that. last without his own fic is jongho but i have a couple things potentially in the works for him. anyway, hope you like this! who u think got promoted?? leave any thoughts and reblog & comment if you liked it! it’s a very big motivator for me. requests are OPEN!

[the-steambird]

[ 011223 EDITION ]

GENSHINBLR — NOVEMBER, 2023 EDITORIAL

EXTRA! EXTRA! Over here, dear reader! As we enter the twelfth month of the year, read up on what’s happened this past month of November on Genshin Tumblr!

From your Editors: Crow and Ely.

COLLECTIVES — November Events !

TRENDING! || From Journalist @meidnightrain

1989 Event — 21 songs to 21 fics with the Genshin characters; A celebration to the release of Taylor Swift’s 1989 album, with fluff, angst, and hurt / comfort galore! Our journalist Meisha takes us through the re-recorded album with various Genshin characters X GN! Reader ranging from Aether, to Furina, and many more in between!

NEWS FLASH! || From Editor @yuellii

Fontaine : Dark Blood — A supernatural-themed event to continue off the spirit of Halloween in November; Dark Blood follows three separate one shots of vampire Neuvillette, werewolf Wriothesley, and puppet Lyney X GN! Reader. Our editor Ely executes horror through her writing, so readers, please heed her warnings carefully in each fic!

COLUMN — Individual Spotlight !

LET TWO EYES BE UNDECEIVED, Lyney / By Editor @rainswept

Summary from the editor: Growing up with you by his side, falsities were always something Lyney could see through. He preferred not to use them, not for a long time — but once you were gone and he and Lynette were left without someone to do the group’s dirty work, he forced himself to inherit the way of living you left behind.

“So excited for this one! Editor Crow’s been showing me their progress—honestly such a must-read for Lyney fans when it comes out, teehee.” — Editor Ely.

YOU’RE SO RED, ARE YOU OKAY?, Furina / By Journalist @definitelynotaneulasimp

A comedic review by Journalist Henry, in which the Archon of Hydro attempts at a date, but all goes wrong when she develops a terrible case of hiccups. Rumor has it: This fic is a part of Henry’s 1.5k Followers Event!

Want more Genshin women content? Definitely check out Henry’s own blog for characters like Ei, Navia, and more!

GOODNIGHT, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @strawberrylabs

Did you know: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe have voice lines about you, dear reader?! If you’re having trouble falling asleep, hear what these characters have to say all about you!

A SIMPLE MISSION, Neuvillette / By Journalist @alaboadoa

Rumor has it: The Duke and the Iudex were caught whispering privately about you?! Read as Journalist Soph gossips all the juicy details about their conversation—it seems Monsieur Neuvillette might have a crush on you!

Just recently released: Journalist Soph also just recently released a new entry for Ayato, “INK TO PAPER.” Both of these works are featured in her 1k milestone event!

ONE CHANCE (PT.2), Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @ayaboba

“You give them one chance. How do they use it?” Journalist Anya returns with Kazuha, Lyney, Wanderer, and Zhongli—all who have just one last chance with you. Be sure to also check our her part one of this entry with Alhaitham, Diluc, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley, linked in her entry!

WHEN THEY LOSE YOU, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @yrbladie

Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Zhongli — ever in the mood for angst and no comfort? Then Journalist Naeris delivered us painful excepts on five different Genshin men and how they act after ( spoiler! ) losing you.

With Journalist Naeris also being on the rise and joining the writing train, be sure to check out all the other works she has published this month, as well!

FEATURE — The Editors’ Favorites !

YOUR SHADOW UNDER THE ILLUSORY MOON., Lyney / By Journalist @dulcesiabits

“this piece genuinely moved me. journalist liya’s writing is beautiful, and out of hundreds — maybe even thousands — of works that i have read, this has remained my favorite. it had me hanging on every word and i could genuinely feel the emotion put into it — her word choices and the way she conveys the scenes are profound in a way i cannot hope to describe. the ties and parallels part one has with PART TWO are so smart, too. hands down the most immersive and touching writing i’ve ever had the pleasure to read.” — Editor Crow.

JEALOUS-!, Ayato / By Journalist @jinxlixir

“LOVED this one! Takes place in a modern school AU with Ayato as the student council prez, and reader as his vice prez! The concept is every hopeful cliché, and Journalist Jinx did an amazing job characterizing Ayato so well—this one definitely stayed in my head for a while!”

“Not to mention: This little snippet is a continued concept of Jinx’s OTHER AYATO PIECE, one that’s much longer and written excellently!! I was practically squealing the whole time I read it… Ignore my tags if you decide to scroll through the notes.” — Editor Ely.

THE-STEAMBIRD is a Genshinblr Newspaper that posts news on the latest fanfiction and fanart! Editorials are published on the 1st day of every month, compiling your favorite works, featuring sections for journalists (writers) and photographers (artists).

Every month, from the 2nd-24th, we are in the nomination process. Writers and artists can nominate works they would like to see featured on The-Steambird for the month using our form!

[saintmichale]

Open for Beta Reader/Editorial Work

Hi everyone! As a lot of have probably gathered by now, I was recently laid off from my job as in editor from a Hachette Book Group imprint. While this is a real turn of events, I'm taking this time to fully open up my roster for any and all editorial work

I've been in trade publishing for four years, and have a BA in Editing and Publishing. At my previous jobs I did developmental, substantive, and copy editing, as well as proofreading and copy writing. Preferred genres are fiction, graphic novel/comic, creative non-fiction, gift titles, children's literature, and poetry (fan-fiction included, of course).

Rates

$10/10,000 words...........Down and dirty proofread (a quick pass looking for grammar and spelling mistakes).

$20/10,000 words...........Full proofread (a full comb through of the document).

$40............ Pitch review. Looking to pitch your manuscript to publisher? Have your selected pages and pitch document reviewed and given feedback by someone who has been on the inside!

$25/10,000 words..........Developmental pass. A look at the big things like plot, characterization, and flow.

$50/10,000 words......... The works. One round each of developmental, substantive, and proofreading.

*for graphic novels/comics/visual arts, rates go by page.

Please consider spreading this around so that I can get better reach, thank you!

[drewsbuzzcut]

Keeping Up With The Barzals

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic (editorial edition)

warnings: mentions being parents, having insecurities, mentions vibrators, early issues in a relationship, hints at sex, and I think that’s all… let me know if I missed something. ALSO: this takes place in 2027, so they only have Nolan!

Appealing, show stopping, the symbol that love doesn’t have to fizzle out with the pressures of success, or the responsibilities of true adulthood. I get the opportunity to interview the most famous couple to ever grace our social media feed. Y/n and Mat open up about their lives in the limelight.

A very pristine woman who isn’t afraid to change things up and dirty her clothes, that’s Y/n (soon-to-be) Barzal. From dominating the catwalks to being the best mom she can be, Y/n is a layered masterpiece. Y/n will go to the ends of the earth for her family. If that means she’s helping organize charity events for her husband's hockey team, or turning away jobs to be present for her son, she’ll do it. When asked about it, she said it’s a major privilege to be able to turn away jobs for her kid’s sake and to be able to help raise money for the Islanders.

As a model who is this generation’s icon, she’s awfully real. There’s no hiding or pretending when it comes to Y/n. In my opinion, that’s what makes her so inspiring and likable to everyone. However, don’t confuse her privacy for lying. There’s been many instances when Y/n had to keep aspects of her life private to protect those she loves. Times when the audience wasn’t too kind about her choice.

“There was a time when many people thought I was never around Nolan when he was an infant. It seemed that everyone got used to me posting little updates on my Instagram story, so when it stopped people were confused. People thought that I just hired a nanny and was never around my son. It hurt to hear those speculations, especially because they were so far from the truth. Nolan got really sick. He was only 6, almost 7 months and he got really sick. Mat and I had no clue how he contracted his sickness, but it was scary for a little while. I stopped working for that time frame, and I followed Mat, with Nolan of course. Mat had to continue working, but I just couldn’t be without him while our baby was going through what he was going through, so I traveled to each location he traveled to. I of course posted Instagram stories and posts, because not all my days were bad, but I didn’t and wasn’t going to post anything about Nolan until he was 100% better.” Y/n goes into detail about one of those incidents where she went quiet about certain things in her life.

“So many people think it’s so easy to be productive and encouraged all the time. I go from personality to personality with each photo shoot I work on. Not because I’m trying to be fake about who I am, but because sometimes photo shoots require you to step out of the person you are, and it’s not always a bad thing, but lines do get blurry and your mind gets foggy. It’s actually easier to get lost in emptiness, trying to get your feet to touch the ground. I think that’s why I try so hard to be open with my supporters. I’m holding myself accountable all at the same time. Becoming a mother definitely helped me with some of the fog. Becoming a mother made me stronger. I’m always being my best self for my son. I am also always being my best self for my husband. They’re everything to me.” Y/n gives us a little insight on what it’s like to experience the not so glamorous side of a fast paced lifestyle.

Aside from being a mother and a model, Y/n is the person who is determined. No one has to write a story about her, because she’s already writing it herself. I’ve never come face to face with someone with such confidence that’s still so humble. Y/n knows how to cook, knows how to style any piece of clothing, knows how to love herself and others selflessly, and most importantly, she can write. If you’re asking why it’s important that she writes when just about anyone can write, I mean Y/n really knows how to write. I am lucky enough to have received early access to the first draft of her very first manuscript. The words this woman can write are amazing. That’s just putting it lightly. It’s important that Y/n is such a phenomenal writer, because she has the chance to share her wisdom and thoughts. I happen to think her thoughts can change, if not the world, at least one person’s life.

“Don’t make me seem like I’m all work and no play. I can be loose around all my edges.” Y/n states as we near the end of our interview. As I said, she’s continuously writing her own story even when my pen stops. After hearing her out, I’ve come to the conclusion that she is the life of the party that every 20-something year olds wants to be. She blazes a fierce trail of being true to her indulgences. If she’s craving an ounce of music to fill her veins, she’ll gather her best pals and partake in a night of clubbing. If she craves a big, private party, she’ll rent a huge yacht and let her girlfriends go wild. There’s no barrier that will contain Y/n. She breaks any bounds because for her, living life isn’t about being uniform or perfect. Being a mom, a role model, or just someone who is responsible won’t stop her from being who she truly is. That’s not to say that Y/n is a big time party girl, or that she doesn’t care about herself or her surroundings. She does care, she just knows when not to.

Before kids, Mat and Y/n had one word to describe their relationship. “Sex.” They both splutter with laughter when they see the shocked look on my face. They assure me that “sex” isn’t the word they’d use, but I don’t think that sex is a lie to get a reaction out of me. It’s easy to see just how strongly they feel about each other. They’re playful and very teasing with one another. It’s all very sensual, though. You can feel the heat they radiate when their eyes connect with each other.

“Our relationship is chaotic. The type of chaos that makes you run in circles, pulling on your hair. The type of chaos that you search for when life loses meaning. The type of chaos that is unexpected, but welcomed and makes you feel alive. It’s scary, but only because it makes you feel so much. ‘Chaos.’ It causes pain and happiness, but the happiness is always there. The chaos makes us strive to be better. It makes our love timeless.” Y/n and Mat answer the question with a sureness that’s rare.

Speaking of being timeless, the envious pair are set to get hitched at the end of May. You may have noticed that they’re already referring to each other as husband and wife.

If you’re looking for tips on keeping things fresh, continue reading.

“We don’t force sexual activity. We also don’t plan it, we just let our feelings do what they do best. I don’t know if that’s because our connection is too strong, or for whatever reason we are usually in sync. Maybe it’s our constant teasing. We never go a day without teasing each other. It makes our touches, our kisses, more intense.” Mat explains.

“We also kiss a lot. We will never not kiss each other if that’s what we feel we should do. Lately, people have gotten used to hiding their affection, but they shouldn’t hide it. Embrace it, unless it really does make you uncomfortable. It’s actually so funny because I know Mat wasn’t really the type of person to be into PDA, but it changed when we got together.” Y/n chimes in.

“Yeah, that’s true. I never cared for PDA, but like Y/n said, when you feel it, you feel it.”

It’s honestly crazy that these two only have one child. When I told them that, they both laughed. Y/n was the first one to tell me that their baby boy would be their only baby for a while. Mat was unsure of her words, but nonetheless agreed with her.

The baby talk sidetracked our initial conversation of intimacy, but this type of intimacy between the small family is actually beautiful. They both went on and on about the throes and joys of parenthood. They were both surprised at the fact they were having a baby so early on in their relationship, but they told me it genuinely made their bond unbreakable.

Looking at the way their eyes always gravitate back towards the other’s, and their lingering touches that soothe their anxieties, it’s easy to see why they’re so desirable. It’s not about Mat being an attractive athlete, or Y/n being the most beautiful model, it’s the way they portray the feelings of love and passion.

Here’s their last relationship tip: “Don’t focus on finding the perfect person, or being the perfect person. Be yourself. I know it’s cliche, but be yourself. If you find THE one, they’ll always love you for who you are. Your passion and affection will never dim. If you’re feeling lonely, don’t settle for someone who doesn’t deserve you, just buy a vibrator.”

The so-called ladies man who turns into a puddle at the sight of his wife, Mat Barzal isn’t who you think he is.

As an athlete whose privacy is a bit more respected than the average celebrity, we needed to do a deep dive on New York’s finest hockey player.

Rising to early stardom, the young hockey player was perceived way before he got the chance to grow up. Different outlets vaguely recalling Mat as the playboy, or even a wasted talent. They had no clue who they were writing about, that much is clear. Mat is wise, something he says he learned from Y/n, and he’s not some egotistical man, looking for power. Sure, he’s confident in who he is, but that doesn’t make him conceited. He’s actually smart, despite what stigmas have been formed on hockey’s best. He’s not a one track man.

“Hockey has always been a big thing for me. It’s probably one of my biggest accomplishments, winning the cup and just having outstanding numbers, but my accomplishments don’t stop there. I’m proud of the man I’ve become and the father I’ve become. It’s taken a lot to not get crushed under the words and expectations of people on the outside. I still struggle with ignoring the unnecessary noise. Sometimes it seems like no one’s realized that I’ve grown up. To them I’m still a young boy who received too much too fast. I just want to say that I’m not denying that part of me, but that part of me is also stagnant. I’m not a young boy. I’m a man, a man with a wife and son. I know I’m still young in age, but certainly not my actions. Don’t get me wrong I’m not some grandpa. I get out, I drink and I sometimes act wild. I also know when to be responsible because I do have a son and a wife, whose reputation can easily be reflected off my own reputation.”

Mat Barzal is someone to be proud of. He’s also someone who many want to be friends with; I don’t blame them.

“My party days? I don’t know if my party days will ever be over. My wife, who’s younger than me, is a smoke show. I want to take her everywhere, show her off. She’s the love of my life, why wouldn’t I want to, you know. She’s also keeping me young and active. She usually doesn’t like to go to parties alone, so I’ve become accustomed to attending them with her. Plus, my teammates know how to throw a party, too. I love going to those and so does Y/n. Ever since having a son, it’s been a little harder to party. If it’s a get together, we’ll most likely bring Nolan along because we know there will be other kids there. And no, we’re not drinking or driving with our son around, or in general. If we have Nolan with us, I won’t drink, just simply enjoy the vibes and get drunk off my wife and see her enjoy herself. If it’s just Y/n and me, it’s a whole different story. We will get drunk together, but we will make sure we have a safe ride home through our car service.”

An all-around easy going guy with a great sense of humor, and an undying love for his wife and son. Hockey does not define this man.

For someone (Y/n) who’s so public about a lot of things, it really throws people for a loop when they’re out of the conversation about their relationship. I don’t even have to ask them about it, I see it all the time on Twitter. There are always questions about what’s going on, or if they’re even still together. The biggest speculation I’ve seen is that their relationship is all PR.

I honestly don’t understand the need for people to immediately demote a relationship to a PR one. It’s actually offensive, to the couple at least. I'm going to say it once, and once only, Y/n and Mat are not a publicity stunt. I feel that most people know that by now that they have a kid together, but if you didn’t know, now you do.

“We never thought our relationship would be such a big deal to many people, but anytime I’m not wearing islanders gear or pictured with barzy in the span of 1 minute, magazines are popping out new headlines by the minute. ‘Y/n and Mat: The Breakup of the Century,’ ‘Y/n no longer engaged to the hockey heartthrob.’ People live for us to say that our relationship is perfect. It’s not. That’s a fact. We’ve had so many issues in our relationship, not that we’d share all of them, but it’d just make everyone go ballistic if they knew. Something as complicated and beautiful as a relationship shouldn’t be dictated or have an opinion formed by people who know nothing about the couple and their history. Mat and I aren’t perfect; a big portion of our relationship has been built on our issues.”

Just because they’re a powerhouse couple, doesn’t mean they don’t have their insecurities. Talking with the couple, I learned a lot about how they feel like they have to hide their true feelings due to being perceived certain ways.

“A lot of fans expect us to be indestructible, yet they’re usually the ones tearing us down. I hate to admit it, but a lot of our fights have stemmed from actions of those watching us online. It’s not that we necessarily believe what they’re saying, but some of it lingers in the back of our minds. We then start to pull away and not talk about the way we feel. It’s going to surprise people when I say that Y/n and I have gone to couple’s therapy so early on in our relationship. It was a hard time that I wouldn’t change because it showed each other that we were in it no matter what. Thick and thin.”

“People might be bothered about what I’m about to admit, but I don’t really care. In the nicest way possible. Anytime I see someone talking negatively about OUR relationship, I post pictures of us. We can be doing the most mundane tasks, or out and about, I will post it to rub it in their face. Is it immature? Sure, to some. In all honesty, who wouldn’t show off their man if they’re as wonderful as barzy is. Sorry that y’all didn’t get to him first,” Y/n states, walking over to her husband and laying a passionate kiss on his lips. They’re clearly not bothered by the presence of others when indulging in each other.

a/n: This was something different for me to write, but I loved it and I hope y’all do too!!

[zahri-melitor]

Some more coherent thoughts about Gotham War, now it's settled on me.

(Spoilers below cut, for length and as it's still only Wednesday)

It's not a huge surprise, but Selina's whole 'train henches to steal from the rich non-violently!' ended up being a complete side issue that only existed to get the plot moving. Nobody's conception of this plot, in two years time, will really include this detail, despite the thousands of words spent arguing how ridiculous it was.

Yes it remains a poorly thought out plan on Selina's part (she's never heard of earning money legally) but the narrative also frames it as long term ineffective from the very first issue and knocks it down on multiple occasions.

DC editorial definitely tried to dress this up as a full family event, but realistically it was a Bruce, Selina and Jason event, written by their three current writers, with solid bit parts played by Tim and Dick.

Vandal Savage remains ridiculous and ready to sacrifice anyone and I appreciate that about him. As a villain he was just the right level of stakes for this event.

I enjoyed getting to see Scandal, even if her fans would say she got done dirty here. Scandal usually has enough sense not to believe anything Vandal says, and I admit I was somewhat waiting for some level of twist here as to why Scandal was all for immortality at this point in time, but it never came.

I still agree it felt a lot like three separate plotlines intersecting, but I think they managed to land the event successfully (while leaving some nice loose threads). I actually appreciate they didn't overreach in their goals.

It still finished out with two separate plotlines: Bruce and Selina and Jason; and Dick and Tim and the rest of the family. Structurally this again reminded me as much of Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul as Batman #138 did; the main plot and then the far more interesting Dick & Tim sideplot which is what I go back to reread. (Chip Zdarsky is clearly also a fan)

Also promisingly for an event yes, it did actually shake up the status quo and push the participants off in new directions.

So Bruce is now doing the Loner Batman thing (in that he's locked out of the fam computers/comm lines), Selina is officially 'dead' (what is with all these fake dead people with titles, Penguin is too right now), and Jason has what's effectively permanent fear toxin response to stressful situations. Also, apparently, we are getting Dick and Barbara back 'running' the Batfam while Bruce is on the outs.

As far as Bruce goes, what has been really notable in this event is how much Chip Zdarsky loves early 2000s Bat comics and their dynamics, and particularly Joker's Last Laugh. There's a lot of structural things about how this event was shaped, what specific characters did, and emotional beats that feel very JLL as someone who's read it at least half a dozen times. It's not the only influence, but it's a pretty prominent one.

Bruce ending the event in a position where he's effectively not working with most of the other Bats actually tracks reasonably well over to Batman & Robin, to my surprise. It makes sense that it's just Bruce and Damian and they're focusing on homelife and domestic relationship details between the two. It gives Bruce an excuse for why he's closely focused on Damian there.

I will admit I have not been reading Catwoman, but from the event it seems they're spinning her off to keep moving her back into a more antihero position. Tini Howard clearly has a direction she wants to take Selina.

I actually think this has pretty interesting storytelling potential for Jason. It means that he has to stay calm, or has to overcome his own fear to achieve things. It gives him a goal? Matthew Rosenberg clearly seems interested in using it for his Jason storytelling and he's got Jason right now, so...

I'm personally delighted by how much Tim Zdarsky wrote into this storyline. He used the space more to show off Dick and Tim's brotherhood and what Tim is good at, rather than push the Tim side of the Zur story we're all expecting to occur (there's that waiting Zur-Robin costume). Means he's planning it for Batman as a title itself rather than getting it tangled up here.

"It was the only way to become the second-best Robin". Yes, this is Tim getting to show off his core competencies - he probably is the only Bat other than Bruce who would have extensively studied all the trophies. Dick would remember a lot of them simply because a lot of the trophies are from old adventures, but pretty much all the others are not particularly retrospective, respect the past sort of members of the group, while Tim has always been surrounded by the shadows of the past. I loved this note.

I haven't talked about Babs yet! She's in green, in glasses, sitting down at her computers with a novelty mug, directing everyone, answering to Oracle. That's her! That's my Oracle!

I do think Bruce expecting Dick to take over running the Batfam right now is a big ask, given he's also running the Titans as the main superhero team on the planet and handling Bludhaven, but Tom Taylor's writing both those books so I don't expect to see the stress catching up with Dick there. Benefits of writer choice right now, I guess. Also personally 'Babs and Dick organise everyone while Bruce has a breakdown elsewhere' is one of my favourite Batfam dynamics so you know, I'm pretty excited if we actually get to see this play out.

New Lazarus Pit in Gotham! This won't be a problem at all.

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 3

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 14 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n stopped in front of her elevator, wondering whether she should get in there to get to her floor, and then she looked to her left. She could see the few steps that marked the beginning of a long way up to the third floor, and while she fixed her eyes on the grayish stain -that had been there ever since she moved to the building-, she remembered how judged she felt earlier that day when she joined her colleagues' conversation.

—Your metabolism works like that now, but it'll go all down to your ass if you keep a sedentary life —her brunette coworker sighed—. You'll also feel happier with yourself. You'll feel productive. I promise you, going to the gym will change your life.

Donna was a failed attempt of influencer. Of course she would preach the fitness life she advertised on her social media, she had an image to maintain -even if she was still working in the editorial as the big mouth that made young girls feel bad over not looking like her. Not only teenage girls, Y/n herself let her comment and cocky smile get to her, instantly thinking that she maybe was right.

Her colleague was dumb, but she was even dumber for paying attention to whatever bullshit she said, and choosing to get to her floor through the stairs.

She didn't go to the gym, but she had a long route -coming and going- from her place to the station, and from the station to the workplace. It wasn't like she didn't move throughout the day. Actually, she thought she moved a little bit too much.

After reaching the second floor, she could feel that burning sensation on her calves, rising to the back of her knees. But she still ignored it, cheering herself with the idea of being almost there.

Pulling from the railing, she gave herself the last impulse to give the first step on the third floor, sighing with a tired smile as she threw her head back. Although it was soon replaced by a whine as she bent her body onwards, assuring herself she wouldn't be as dumb to do that again, unless she had no other choice.

As she looked down, she noticed all the traces of her neighbor's moving were completely gone: there were no small cork balls, the huge box was also gone... and so it was the small note she hung on his door.

Her shoulder sank to her sides when she turned around and realized the note changed its position, going from his door to being hung at hers then. She hurried to the door, taking the piece of paper, just to see he wrote something under her first note.

"It's easier for me to understand things when someone speaks to me directly, instead of leaving notes"

And the smiley face next to it almost made her lose it.

Her right eye started throbbing, almost blinking by itself as she crumpled the paper in her hand. But even in that situation, she tried to find as much inner peace as possible, slowly turning around to his door when she felt the throb almost disappearing.

If he wanted her to speak to him directly, she would.

She rang his bell once... twice... three times. She knocked on his door, and waited for him to open it, only to be paid back with silence.

Maybe if she had had a good day -instead of being questioned about her habits-, and maybe, just maybe, if she had slept properly -which was ironic whose fault it was-, she probably wouldn't have gone the bad route. But she was tired, angry, and the rope to her patience kept shortening a little.

Twisting her lips, she took out her phone and opened the residents' group chat.

Y/n: The last few days a few annoying and noisy activities had been carried out. In order to keep the good environment in the building, I ask for the new resident to adapt to the norms and respect that are part of our building. Thank you.

She closed the app and locked her screen, saving the phone back in her jacket as she made her way to her apartment.

She couldn't feel bad about it even if she thought about it. She called out his attention in a respectful and private way, and he mocked her for it. Now she was sure he would indeed understand what the characters on the text were saying. And if he wasn't able to understand what was written, at least shame would get to him.

Shame would get to him... What a joke that was.

Her neighbor was indeed in the residents' group chat, and he did read her text, that was why he clapped back with something that had nothing to do with the noise.

Unknown: Since we're at it. I would also like to talk about something that's also been bothering me since I moved in. I come pretty late at night, and I always end up wet because 3A waters her plants in the balcony that's on the street side.

Not only did she think it was the dumbest complaint he could think of, it was also a lie. By the time she watered her plants, he wasn't even home. She knew it because the way he interrupted her sleep followed an annoying pattern that always started around three and four in the morning.

Either way, that message took Roger not longer than half a day to show up at her door, reaching out to her in a friendly way about the flowers issue. He was something like the person in charge to keep the good environment in the building, and to keep note of every complaint or any problem that could come up regarding the place they were living -at least regarding the common areas.

—So you come to talk to me, but you don't talk to him? —she raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest.

—I did talk to him —he passed his hand over his shaven head—. Yesterday morning before he left for work. And it seems like he was rational about it, so I'm asking you to take the flowers away. Use plastic ones, you won't have to water them. It's a win win —he suggested with a forced smile.

Y/n gave in, but not without throwing a killing glare at his closed door, before she made sure to slam the door as hard as possible before she stepped back inside. On one hand, she did it because of the little problem she had with it. But on the other hand, she felt chills running down her spine as the walls vibrated to the sound.

Never, in the year and a half she had been living there, she had been called out for anything. And after he showed up, she felt judged and cornered for the dumbest reasons. The fact that it also happened the only day she'd stay home, because she finally managed to get her landlord to hire someone to repair the door, made her even more frustrated.

She tried to distract herself by doing some cleaning, and hung out the washing on the edge of the window that was on the common interior courtyard of the building.

Maybe she shouldn't have done it, but her rage was acting on her behalf. Pressing her lips together, she used the broomstick to reach out to the velvet shirt that was hanging on his clothesline under his window. She had no idea what she wanted to do with it, but she gasped when instead of hooking it up around the tip, it fell three floors down.

Could be that was even better.

With a smirk, she picked up the bottle of bleach that was saved in one of the lower drawers in her kitchen, throwing a bit over the wrinkled fabric.

—You're bothered about water. Let's see if it's better with bleach.

Y/n closed her window, and drew the thin white curtain, after all of her clothes were hanging, taking the rest of the morning to wait for someone that should be about to come.

Jungkook woke up with a groan, rolling in his bed, stretching his body with a smile when he realized he had been able to sleep without being interrupted by his neighbor.

It was the first time since he moved there that he was able to sleep those seven hours in a row -because not even the weekends were an excuse for some little peace between them. In a good mood, he walked around his home, tidying some things up.

Honestly, one of the girls was right. He felt way better after all of the boxes were gone and he found some stability in the order he settled. It felt like his home, finally.

His mood was still cheerful, despite noticing one of the most expensive shirts he owned on the floor of the common courtyard. Could be he didn't place it properly, or maybe the pinches broke, since the two of them were also on the floor.

Jungkook walked down the stairs, giving little jumps until he reached the entrance to that common area -that he found quite useless. His mood changed in a matter of seconds, after he picked up his shirt. There was a huge stain that adopted a pink-ish tone that stood out among the velvety ones. As he raised it to check it better, a strong chemical odor he slightly recognized filled his nostrils, forcing him to lower his arms.

—That crazy psycho —he muttered, looking up at her window.

That shirt cost him seven stitches on his eyebrow, after he fell knocked out in a fight. He had allowed that other bigger boy to break his face, because it was dealt that way between that other guy's trainer and him. And that maniac destroyed it in a matter of seconds.

While he looked at the stain on his shirt, he found a man curiously looking at the entrance while he waited for the lift. And judging by his uniform and the tool case he was carrying, he guessed he wasn't there to pay a visit to someone.

—Woodsbroz? —Jungkook asked, raising his eyebrow.

—Ah yeah —the man smiled—. We work with wood, but mainly doors and windows.

He smirked, nodding at the information, although he wasn't genuinely curious. He was just thinking out loud, unaware that the man could easily hear him. That smirk quickly disappeared, turning into a thinking expression when the man hit the third floor button before he could.

—Are you going to work at the 3A? —Jungkook casually asked, turning to him.

—Yeah, why? —the man frowned.

The younger boy grimaced at the comment, auguring anything but good news to the older man at his right.

—She isn't home today —Jungkook lied.

—Seriously? —the man scoffed, tilting his head annoyed— I was pretty clear that I'd come, and they assured me there would be someone waiting for me. How am I supposed to work like this? —he mumbled to himself.

—Yeah, some people have no respect —Jungkook agreed—. Well, have a nice day —he greeted them when they reached his floor.

—Have a nice day. Thanks for warning me.

Y/n ran to the door when she heard the sound of the elevator reaching her floor, looking through her peephole, but only seeing a tall auburn man with short hair. She wasn't quite sure of who he was, but he did look good from behind, even if he was wearing baggy clothes that barely allowed her to admire him properly. But all that attraction slowly vanished when he twisted his tattooed wrist, opening the lock and stepping inside the house she had been having nightmares with.

So that man was the one she started a war with? She was damned.

Her blood was boiling after she called her landlord, and he told her the company did send someone, but they were told no one was at home. Her jaw was clenched so tight that she could almost hear her teeth squeaking as soon as she was aware of what happened.

Of course her neighbor had something to do with the fact that her door would still not close properly.

She lost one day of work, which meant losing ten dollars in subsistence allowance, and she was convinced she'd have to lose another day of work to be able to be home when the carpenter showed up again, which meant the loss of another ten dollars. And the fact that she wasn't going to work, and there was no way she could justify it, also meant she would have an absence of two days and she wouldn't be paid for those days either.

Of course that morning she wouldn't let him sleep, sticking her wireless speaker to their shared wall to blast some 90s techno songs. There was no response on his side though, until late into the night, that he started kicking the wall past twelve.

And he played it double.

She didn't know. She thought that maybe he was waiting for her next move until the old lady from the 2B apartment knocked on her door with a dirty letter on her name.

Her breathing was faster, her chest was bulking with anger when she saw the stains of sauces on a penalty fee that would have cost her three hundred dollars if her neighbor hadn't noticed it in the bin. She had enough with being called out in the middle of nowhere after she tried to sneak in the subway, because she realized way too late she didn't pay for the monthly pass three days into the month, to having to add a bigger amount of money to pay.

She could only think about how she hoped he didn't dare to make a sound that night.

But of course 3B was going to do the exact opposite she wanted. She moaned into her pillow when his headboard started kicking the shared wall with a rhythm move, slowly being followed by some whines and groans.

As usual, Y/n kicked back. As expected, she was completely ignored, which added with what happened earlier that evening, didn't help to rub her inner peace.

She thought of where to hit him to hurt him the most, and it was when she remembered the drill she bought shortly after she moved there, to assemble some of the furniture that didn't come with the house. She placed the biggest drill bit until it clicked, starting the engine a few times to make sure it worked.

Jungkook, whose face was sunk on the neck of the brunette he took home, moved up slightly at that weird sound, looking down at her. Maybe he was already imagining things, or so he thought when she looked up to him, confused at his sudden move. He simply shook his head, bending over again to kiss her before she made them roll over the mattress so she would be on top of him.

It was the last move she could do before the thick drill bit crossed the wall, at the length of Y/n's head -more or less-, over the part that was closer to the corner rather than the bed.

The girl hopped off Jungkook scared, looking at the small hole that had been formed in front of their eyes.

—The fuck? —Jungkook mumbled, kneeling on the bed to see it better.

But even if he had wanted to pay more attention to it, he still tried to ignore it, trying to reach the girl that was now sitting on the bed, trying to be as far from the wall as possible.

—She's just a crazy lady. Let's get back to where we were —Jungkook tried to convince her.

But Y/n's voice, warning them of consequences if they kept bothering her, made the girl push him away as Jungkook chuckled at the tone of voice his neighbor was using.

—Are you fucking serious right now? You think this shit is funny? —the girl reproached him— You're insane —she concluded, getting up to get dressed.

Jungkook simply laid on his bed, still giggling at the length his neighbor went to to keep that push and pull game they had going on alive. He knew any other person wouldn't have found the funny part of that at all, but he couldn't help it. It was way too comedic to ignore it.

—Do you want me to call you? —he asked.

—Don't —she rushed to answer—. In fact, don't approach me if you see me on the street. Forget I exist.

Not like it was difficult for him either. Added to his lack of desire to see her again, they were living in Chicago. The chances of them coming across one another were quite low.

After he was left alone again, he curiously peeked through the hole Y/n had just created, disappointed at seeing no one there. His neighbor had a screw loose, but she certainly was a good sight by the little he saw of her his second day in the building.

Jungkook stepped back startled when suddenly his vision was obstructed by a ball of paper.

—I didn't think you were the shy type —he commented.

—Not only disrespectful and noisy, you're also a voyeur —she replied back—. You do have all the negative traits someone could find in a person.

He smirked, finding himself somehow attracted to the melodic voice behind that wall.

She could only hope what happened that night would make things calmer for them. But no. She was sure he was even louder on purpose, and it was driving her insane. To the point where she ended up calling the police, only to be told that if she had a problem, she should simply buy herself a pair of plugs and let people live. She remembered how embarrassed, yet annoyed, she felt that night. Right after talking with her neighbor, they knocked on her door to tell her there were more serious problems than hearing her neighbor having sex. And if there was a problem, she should try to speak to him directly.

As if she hadn't tried that already.

Through his peephole, Jungkook giggled at his neighbor's expression after the cops left, and how she threw a death glare at him before she went back to her apartment and closed her door.

It was when, after a few times, one of her phone calls was answered with a "You again?", that she knew it would be of no help.

So, after feeling hopeless and completely by herself in that fight, she decided to play his game again. If he played music late into the night while she was asleep, she started her morning making noise, moving things and hitting their shared wall, until it was time for her to leave back to work.

If he was noisy, she was even noisier.

The loud sounds of pans, or her just accidentally hitting the wall, were getting to his last nerve. Usually, he never woke up any earlier than eleven, because his trainings never started before two in the afternoon, and until then Jimin was the one looking after the gym. But ever since they started that small war between them, his schedules started to change.

It was as if there was a constant war between them, and neither of them could find a way to stop it.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[laszonasabisales]

Bonnie Jo Campbell - Mujeres y otros animales. Traducción Tomás Cobos. Editorial Dirty Works.

[jlf23tumble]

Please supply your end of year fic rec!! All fandoms, all pairings! Happy New Year Jen!!!

anon 2: Just under the wire...fav fics of the year? I always love your recs!

------------

I've got you both, my loves, under the cut!

MAN, this is a wild list, and it could have been MUCH longer, just based on what I've bookmarked and read/loved, but I wanted to have some kind of high-level cut so that it feels somewhat editorial, so enjoyyyyyy!

H/L (One Direction)

Save Me One Last Sip, onlylearsfool/ @suesheroll, 1.3k

Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry, louisthiccsexygliltteryass, 1.4k

Is this for me? yeah_alright/ @uhoh-but-yeah-alright, 1.5k

Anarchy In You, red_panda28, 2k

don't know how you taste, larrysh0me, 2.4k

Marionette, anonymous, 2.7k

Meet Me In the Bathroom series, red_panda28, 3k

Not Conditional, tiredtiredtz, 3k

(drippin' on me) till my feet are wet, justanothershadeofblue, 3.2k

we got to, away, berzerkshires, 3.3k

One Touch Is All It Takes, jesshallvol6, 3.4k

did I upset you, daddy? cuckootrooke/ @larrydoinglaundry, 3.5k

Peaches and Cream, banaanipoika, 3.7k

So Be Good for Goodness Sake, kikiberoski16, 3.7k

learning to believe in what is mine, bluestgrey, 3.8k

With the Bomb Lighting, letthemusicmoveyou, 4k

U-Pop Truck Stop, @kingsofeverything, 4k

On the Pull, @homosociallyyours, 4.2k

Let Me Taste Your Silhouette, letthemusicmoveyou, 4.7k

Purity Piercings, @jaerie, 5.3k

Dirty Bunny, larry_hiatus, 5.5k

Never Thought I'd Be Missing the Heat, larry_hiatus, 5.6k

Your Ink, My Skin, larry_hiatus, 6k

I'll Show You How Good It Could Be, @lovingstheantidote, 6.2k

A Social Construct, YesIsAWorld/ @louandhazaf, 7.2k

Ride My Sleigh Tonight, @kingsofeverything, 9k

to be a better man, devilinmybrain, 9.9k

it all started with a suggestion, anonymous, 10k

getting yourself wet for me, me_her_themoon, 10k

laur's nutvember 2023 series, me_her_themoon, 51k

Center Stage Whore series, larry_hiatus, 57k

H *or* L/others (One Direction)

new ways and new maps, dragmedown, 1.6k

everybody wants a taste, lhhome, 1.8k

makes me feel alive, lhhome, 2.3k

Let It Go, anonymous, 2.5k

Follow My Lead, anonymous, 2.7k

Shoulder 'n' the Load, yeah_alright, 2.8k

hidden in heartbeats, justanothershadeofblue, 3k

Putting on My Music While I'm Watching the Boys, onlylearsfool, 3.2k

sea view, takesaboatout, 3.7k

The Birth of Love, jesshallvol6, 3.7k

Lives in Daydreams, lhhome, 4.4k

Use Me Like a Fantasy, homosociallyyours, 4.9k

Mangia Tucci, yeah_alright, 7.3k

Wenny, wabadabadaba, 8.5k

for your eyes only, muldxr, 9.3k

too into you, @disgruntledkittenface, 11k

Other fandoms desire paths, glasscushion, 1.1k

Fast Food Fuckin', anonymous, 2k

send vibrations, sionisjaune, 3.6k

Glory, objectlesson, 3.7k

both hands tied on the wheel, kayshea, 3.8k

lost in my own incidents, glasscushion, 3.8k

trust exercise, withfeathers, 4k

What do you want of him, I ask myself, toxic_androgyny, 5.7k

The 33 and 1/3 Days of Sodom, anonymous, 6k

For Here Is Penance, objectlesson, 14k

Saltwater and Gasoline, Kaytheologie, 15k

he's the one, matchmesidney, 16k

this is only a play, matchmesidney, 21k

starving works, matchmesidney, 23k

[anansianansi]

Hot Heavy Summer update!!

Three years ago, I decided to write a fic that mirrored the Clexaweek2021 prompts. Time flies, etc. etc. and I've decided to finish this story up.

Fic summary: By all accounts, Clarke Griffin, Hollywood's most bankable superstar, has made it. Except a decision, and a sacrifice to get there has haunted her for years.

Chapter 1 (Accidental Love Confession) is here; Chapter 2 (Wanna Bet?) is here.

Chapter 3: Reunited

“Just look at this.” Niylah tossed a newspaper down on the marble tabletop; it skidded to a halt before Clarke, who was sitting cross legged on the velvet lounger, her silk bathrobed-self framed by the brilliance of another perfectly rising day in the wall of windows behind her. Without raising her head, Clarke cast an eye over the front of the tabloid. “Hmmm.” She slurped a particularly loud sip of her green-powered smoothie, alternating with it a bite of her avocado-laden slice of toast.

Niylah sighed, crossing her arms. In spite of her annoyance, she studied Clarke’s nonchalant pose carefully; then, moving quickly, she pulled out her phone, snapping a series of photo bursts, the miniscule differences between them - in the shift of Clarke’s shoulders, of her lips pursed slightly more appealingly in one over the other - being the decisive factor for the winning contender that would make it to Clarke’s Instagram, just in time for morning cereal with a side of fawning for her millions of followers. That would be what Niylah’s coffee break would be for. For now, there was a much larger fire to put out. 

“Clarke! It’s all over the news. Here. And here.” Niylah laid out the remaining papers deliberately, making sure each headline was clearly visible. ‘It’s ‘show’time!’; ‘Who is Clarke’s dirty little secret?’; ‘Clarke G bets her a** and her heart!’; ‘Clarke’s Charity is Jaha’s Jackpot.’

Still, Clarke said nothing, but her eyes lingered over the last, blaring front page at the very corner of the table. ‘Is Finn In….or Clarke Out?” She made a note to at least skim over that one later; the editorial team had a penchant for particularly vicious, mostly wildly inaccurate spins on her life. Mostly.

“And I haven’t even checked the online news alerts yet.” Niylah ranted on, sinking down in her chair, running her hands across her face. It wasn’t even seven AM, and she was exhausted. “This is an unmitigated disaster. You’ve put yourself between a bullet and a target.”

Clarke snorted, finally looking up at her publicist, sarcasm painted across her face. “So what you’re saying is that nothing’s changed.” She raised an arm to the back of her neck, massaging it gently, trying to ease the crick that seemed to have ossified there in the last three days. “Relax, Niylah. They can work themselves up over nothing, as usual. I’ve got this.”

“How? Just how have you “got this”? It’s chaos...chaos, outside. I don’t even know how we’re going to get you out of here today.” Niylah reached for an empty mug, helping herself to the freshly brewed coffee on the table; Clarke didn’t touch the stuff, but still had a pot sent up every day. In the mad rush before the Oscars, Niylah had spent more time in Clarke’s hotel suite than at her own, tiny apartment across town. “They’re going to be on you like hyenas. Why did you do it, anyway?”

“Because I fucking wanted to. Doesn’t that count for anything any more?” Clarke snapped, brow furrowing as she felt the first prickle of annoyance of the day.

Read the rest of the chapter here.

[osharenippon]

Shoujo Manga's Golden Decade (Part 3)

Shoujo manga, comics for girls, played a pivotal role in shaping Japanese girls’ culture, and its dynamic evolution mirrors the prevailing trends and aspirations of the era. For many, this genre peaked in the 1970s. But why?

Part 1

Part 2

Follow the Trend

Before we move on to the third movement of the '70s, let's take a quick look at an essential characteristic of shoujo manga: its sensitivity to trends.

The early '70s were a confusing time for the industry. There was extreme freedom in certain corners, with Yukari Ichijo, Machiko Satonaka, and other prominent artists drawing very adult-like drama in shoujo magazines for very young girls. In contrast, there was also a lot of moralism. The fact manga wasn't taken very seriously meant magazines could get away with a lot since adults considered them terrible influences anyway. But, at the same time, since manga wasn't a respected medium, they were also prone to hysteria. Nothing illustrates this scenario better than the controversies surrounding "Harenchi Gakuen," the first full-length series by Go Nagai, who went on to become one of the most celebrated manga artists of the '70s.

Shameless! The nudity and erotic jokes in Go Nagai''s "Harenchi Gakuen" were a hit with kids and teens, scandalized parents and teachers, and made the shoujo industry chase after their own erotic hits.

Nagai, already a respected yet fledgling name in the industry, was recruited by Shueisha to be part of Shonen Jump's inaugural team in the late '60s. Jump, as any manga fan knows, is by far the biggest success story in manga's editorial history. However, back then, it was just a newcomer in a field dominated by Kodansha's Weekly Shonen Magazine and Shogakukan's Shonen Sunday. Go Nagai's series, whose translated name meant "Shameless High School," is Jump's initial smash hit and one of the titles behind its extraordinary ascent.

But "Harenchi Gakuen," a gag manga with erotic jokes, scandalized adults across the nation. The Japanese Parents and Teachers Association successfully led a Shonen Jump boycott, getting the magazine banned in several shops across the country and triggering a media circus. At the time, agitated journalists often accosted Go Nagai at airports and public events, aggressively pointing their mics at him, a consequence of manga-kas celebrity-like notoriety during that era.

Meanwhile, the reaction around "Harenchi Gakuen" did not intimidate other manga magazines. In fact, all of them were pursuing their own "harenchi"-like phenomenon and publishing stories with erotic dirty jokes. And yes, that included the manga magazines for little girls. In Ribon, male manga-ka Hikaru Yuzuki was responsible for the "dirty" manga series. At Weekly Margaret, Yuzuki also had a considerable hit with the high school comedy "Elite Kyousoukyoku," which, while not precisely "ecchi," had a tone reminiscent of Nagai's work. At Nakayoshi, the artist in charge of this type of content was none other than a pre-"Candy Candy" Yumiko Igarashi.

Before finding success with the smash hit "Candy Candy" manga, Yumiko Igarashi was the Nakayoshi artist in charge of recreating the "harenchi" phenomenon in the pages of the magazine. Above, in a good display of how public manga artists were in the '70s, Yumiko describes her panties as part of a Nakayoshi feature.

The "harenchi" phenomenon hinted at a shoujo field that wasn't yet wholly solidified and, therefore, was taking cues straight from the shonen segment, which would later become uncommon. But it also illustrates how the genre projects readers' dreams and preferences.

An example of this is one of Ribon's most popular series during the '70s, Yukko Yamamoto's "Miki to Apple Pie." Serialized between 1973 and 1976, this gag high school manga was full of absurd humor and nudity in the "Harenchi" vein. The twist is that it also had everything girls dreamed of. 

The "apple pie" in the title was a reference to the lead character's favorite dessert during the time the American apple pie had just arrived in Japan and was considered the trendiest sweet. Miki Miyazawa, a popular and beautiful girl who served as the proxy for readers and was loosely modeled after talento Aki Aizawa, also loved astrology and the horoscope, and the romantic lead was a transfer student named Hideki Nanjo, who was a carbon copy of Hideki Saijo, the biggest popstar heartthrob of the '70s. Basically, "Miki to Apple Pie"'s central premise was "What if the popstars girls go crazy for was your silly gorgeous classmate?".

In fact, a testament to Saijo's popularity was how many shoujo manga romantic partners of the era used him as a model. Besides "Miki to Apple Pie," inserts of him were present in Satonaka Machiko's "Spotlight," Shigeko Maehara's "Kimi Iro no Hibi," Mayumi Yoshida's "Lemon Hakusho," among others.

With nudity, slapstick humor, and numerous references to trends and pop culture, "Miki to Apple Pie" became a sensation in the pages of '70s Ribon. The romantic lead, Hideki Nanjo, modeled after heartthrob Hideki Saiji, frequently performed impromptu renditions of popular hits from stars like Agnes Chan, Finger Five, Momoe Yamaguchi, Junko Sakurada, and, of course, Hideki Saiji himself. Full of shockingly offensive and scatological jokes, very little was considered off-limits, making "Miki to Apple Pie" a quintessential example of the distinctive '70s shoujo manga published during the peak of the "Harenchi" boom. It also serves as a perfect time capsule of its era, satirizing and commenting on everything popular at the time—from iconic products like the Panasonic Quintrix television and memorable TV commercials to celebrities, the toilet paper shortage during the Oil Shock, the Discover Japan campaign, and the widespread teenage girls' fascination with horoscopes. This manga elevated shoujo manga's trend obsession to unprecedented heights and mixed it with absurdity.

Saijo is a relic of the past, but shoujo echoing the trends of its time is a timeless characteristic of the genre. That's why most shoujo artists are women who are close in age to their readers: this sensibility to girls' desires is a vital component of the market. From the way the characters look to how they dress to even the shape of their eyebrows, everything is supposed to reflect its time. Therefore, to successfully create shoujo, one has to understand how girls perceive themselves and also how they want to be perceived. How they dress and look, but also how and what they dream of looking and wearing. What they aspire to and, above all, what they find attractive in the opposite sex.

It was precisely that sensitivity and this unique sense of what girls want and dream of that led to the creation of what is now the number 1 shoujo manga trope: the high school romance starring an unassuming, ordinary heroine. Leading the way was another group of artists that, while not as internationally celebrated as the Year 24 Group, are definitely equally as crucial to shoujo history.

The Otometique Fervor

An "otometique" girl by Mutsu A-ko and some of the artist's popular furoku.

Yoshiko Nishitani, another of Shueisha's top shoujo artists of that era, is often credited as being the first to create a series around ordinary high school love. She did that in 1965's "Marie Lou," published in Weekly Margaret. "Marie Lou" was set in an American high school and had a very fashionable white girl as its lead. On her next manga, "Lemon to Sakuranbo" (Lemon and Cherries), she'd once again achieve immense success by bringing the teen romance closer to reality, using an ordinary Japanese high school as a backdrop.

While Nishitani pioneered this narrative style, the rise of more realistic, everyday stories gained momentum about a decade later. One catalyst for this was the "Otometique boom," a phenomenon that unfolded in the pages of Shueisha's Ribon magazine in the latter half of the '70s.

The term "Otometique" combines "otome," meaning "maiden" or a pure young girl, with the "-tique" (tikku in Japanese) suffix. A-ko Mutsu was the artist who spearheaded this movement.

A-ko made her debut in Ribon in 1971 at the age of 18. Her popularity skyrocketed four years later when her first short stories, led by "Tasogaredoki ni mitsuketa no" (What I Found at Twilight), were compiled into a tankobon that became a best-seller. This success elevated her status in Ribon, and soon her "otometique" style became the talk of the town.

Mutsu A-ko's art.

In contrast to the dramatic narratives of the "Satonaka-domain" faction, "otometique" stories adopted a more straightforward structure devoid of major plot twists and intense drama. Instead, they focused on modest love stories where the exhilarating moments were ordinary occurrences, like spotting a cute boy on the street or touching a crush's hand for the first time. While some stories included sad or supernatural elements, readers were captivated by the uncomplicated, heartwarming moments. 

Ako's heroines were ordinary, unassuming schoolgirls, often characterized by shyness and insecurity. Different from extraordinary characters like Lady Oscar from "BeruBara" or the iconic Madame Butterfly tennis star in "Ace wo Nerae," Ako's protagonists were life-sized. 

"Otometique" manga often incorporated romantic comedy tropes, such as chance encounters with cute guys on the way to school or the transformation into beauty after removing glasses. The happy endings typically featured a boy reciprocating the girl's love by accepting her as perfect and beautiful just as she was.

In otometique manga, girls were often in cute plaid and gingham check dresses and skirts, while boys were impeccably dressed in Ivy style, as seen in Mutsu Ako's art above.

While the stories may have seemed mundane, their distinctiveness lay in the meticulous attention to detail. As significant as the exploration of falling in love and discovering inner strength were all the visual details in "otometique" art. Girls had braids or long wavy hair and wore adorable clothes with plaids and gingham-check, as well as cute accessories. At a time when most Japanese girls still had Japanese-style rooms, "otometique" heroines had gorgeous Western-style rooms. They hung out in cozy cafes, made handmade goods, and ate tasty-looking sweets. Houses had French windows and balconies. Boys were tall, lean, with fluffy hair, and were always dressed impeccably in Ivy-style clothes. The "otometique" artists created an atmosphere that perfectly matched girls' aspirations at the time.

Girls often dreamed with having Western-style bedrooms like the ones in Otometique manga.

While Mutsu A-ko was the trailblazer, she was soon joined at the top by two other iconic artists, Yumiko Tabuchi, and Hideko Tachikake. Each of them had their quirks. Tabuchi, for example, often had college girls as her heroines, mirroring herself as a student at the elite, trendy Waseda University. While Tabuchi and A-ko preferred short stories, Tachikake had a penchant for longer series with a bit more drama. But they all had a similar aesthetic and relied on the charm of ordinary love.

The "otometique" phenomenon reflected the trends of the time and foreshadowed the emerging consumer culture that would swallow the country in the next decade. The sophisticated visuals attracted people of all ages, from elementary school-aged girls to highly educated women and men. Both the top public and private universities in Japan, Tokyo University and Waseda, respectively, had famous "otometique" clubs full of students who loved the genre and the style. The mangas were so trendy that they were often referred to as "Ivy mangas," in reference to the iconic Ivy style that was the catalyst of Japan's youth fashion, which was going through a second revival around that time.

While projecting an atmosphere that girls dreamed of, "otometique" also showcases '70s youth and girls' culture. Melancholic, simple love stories among young people were also the theme of the big folk hits of the time. Ivy or country fashion and long hair for men were the top fashion trends. Western-inspired ideals- in decoration, fashion, and musical taste- were pervasive. And creating subcultures and hobbies around consumption was the path society was taking. Simple life-sized stories as a narrative preference echoed the reality of Japan, which was stabilizing itself after decades of turbulence. These stories brought what the country was craving: comfort.

Above, a Mutsu A-ko's bedroom that lived in girls' imagination. Below, the room is recreated in a 2021 exhibition of Ako's art.

Meanwhile, the rise of consumer culture among young girls led to a "fancy goods" boom, with stores selling cute stationery, stickers, and small items popping up everywhere around the country. Illustrators and companies, eager to capitalize, spared no time in creating appealing mascots and drawings to adorn these goods, and it was in that period that Sanrio created Hello Kitty. 

Ribon and Nakayoshi, which were "furoku" magazines, also benefitted. Furoku are extra gifts that come with the purchase of the magazines. And the "otometique" boom meant Ribon could include "fancy goods" -- like notebooks, stickers, letter sets, and small paper goods readers could assemble -- with the illustration of these highly sought-after artists. Most girls around Japan could only dream of Western-style rooms, a closet full of cute Ivy fashion, trips to trendy cafes, and homes with French windows. But they could recreate a bit of this sophisticated atmosphere by having letter sets, notebooks, stickers, and small accessories with A-ko Mutsu, Hideko Tachikake, and Yumiko Tabuchi's art. These popular furokus and the "otometique" stories were critical for Ribon magazine to surpass 1 million copies in circulation.

Girls admired A-ko, Tabuchi, and Tachikake not only as artists creating heartfelt stories with attractive atmospheres but as personalities. The trio, who were in their late teens and early 20s, closely resonated with their fans due to their proximity in age and shared interests. The readers were moved when Ribon featured an article in which A-ko Mutsu had the opportunity to meet and interview her favorite singer, the rock star Kenji Sawada, a prominent teen idol of that era. The positive response was so overwhelming that, a few issues later, Hideko Tachikake, an avid folk music enthusiast, also had the chance to interview her idol, Kosetsu Minami, the lead singer of Kaguyahime.

An otometique girl by Yumiko Tabuchi (left) and a collection of furoku illustrated by her as seen on a 2021 exhibition on her art.

The popularity of "otometique" peaked in 1977. By 1981, the boom had almost faded, and A-ko, Tabuchi, and Tachikake published their last works on Ribon in 1985. Tabuchi and Tachikake married and semi-retired, while A-ko successfully transitioned to manga for adult women.

Despite the end of the style, "otometique" permeated every corner of Japanese society. Its furoku and atmosphere were one of the bases for the almighty "kawaii" culture which now rules the country. The life-sized heroines and focus on mundane love stories and everyday emotions went on to become one of the main characteristics of the shoujo manga industry.

The Iwadate Domain

For years, the influence of "otometique" has been downplayed, one of the reasons why the movement is almost undiscussed in the West. However, in the last few years, best-selling books reminiscing the style were published, and exhibitions of A-ko Mutsu and Yumiko Tabuchi's works were big hits across Japan. A-ko, who moved back from Tokyo to her hometown in Fukuoka and never stopped creating manga, was recognized by the local prefecture as an honorary citizen and gained a permanent museum in the area, signaling her importance to the industry.

But while the "otometique" phenomenon happened on the pages of Ribon magazine, Mutsu, Tabuchi, and Tachikake weren't the only three attracting a massive audience to this type of real-life love story.

Mariko Iwadate's work was extremely popular from the late '70s to the mid-2000s. Above, a collection of her work from her Margaret era.

Going back to the research of sociologist Shinji Miyadai, three domains divided '70s shoujo. There was the "Moto Hagio domain," which included the Year 24 artists. The Hagio domain was more highbrow and intellectually challenging, and many considered it an equivalent to literature, attracting the intellectual elite that sniffed at manga in general. It is by far the most discussed and debated '70s shoujo movement, as well as the most famous in the West, but it was the least commercially successful at the time. Then there was the "Machiko Satonaka domain," with emotionally driven stories full of drama, plot twists, and larger-than-life heroines. Most of the '70s best-selling shoujo series fall under this category, which includes the work of Yukari Ichijo and Ryoko Ikeda and sports manga like "Ace wo Nerae," among others.

Finally, there's the domain in which the "otometique" stories were created. And Miyadai doesn't name it after any of the Ribon artists, calling it the "Mariko Iwadate domain" instead.

In the Satonaka domain, the heroine served as a proxy for the reader in a fantastical world, while in the Iwadate domain, the heroine represented the reader in the real world. But, after all, who is the influential Iwadate?

Mariko Iwadate, who made her debut in 1973 at the age of 16, rose to prominence by embracing the "otometique" style during its peak in the late '70s. Similar to Ribon artists, Iwadate, who mostly worked for Weekly Margaret, captivated readers with her elegant and stylish art, featuring cute clothes, accessories, and intricate details.

Miyadai's choice to name the category after Iwadate rather than the genre pioneer A-ko Mutsu may be attributed to Iwadate's sustained success. After leaving Ribon in 1985, A-ko remained prolific and had a dedicated audience, but she couldn't replicate her peak. Iwadate's popularity, on the other hand, continued unabated even after she transitioned to adult women's manga. Iwadate's work, recognized for its emotional depth, became a significant inspiration for trailblazers like best-selling novelist Banana Yoshimoto and avant-garde manga artist Kyoko Okazaki. In 1993, when Miyadai wrote his book, Iwadate's fame and respect probably made her a more recognizable figure for readers to associate with the category.

Iwadate's soft girly art and story-telling made her extremely popular and influential.

Mariko Iwadate's narrative, especially her post-80s work, has a more psychological and mature element to it when compared to Ribon's artists. She, as an artist, bridged the gap between "otometique" and another highly influential "Iwadate domain" artist, Fusako Kuramochi.

Fusako Kuramochi, debuting while still a teen in the early '70s at Bessatsu Margaret (Betsuma), initially emulated her favorite artists, Moto Hagio and Keiko Takemiya, before finding her style—a realistic portrayal of romance with a substantial psychological element. Her success contributed to shaping Betsuma, alongside Ribon, as arguably the most influential and commercially thriving shoujo title -- the go-to magazine for high school rom-com.

Like the otometique artists, Fusako Kuramochi first gained prominence with short stories and one-shots. In 1979, she wrote her first series, "Oshiaberi Kaidan," in which each chapter depicted the life of a young girl from junior high to her graduation day. In 1980, she published "Itsumo poketto ni Chopin," a classical music manga that also dealt with growing up as a teenager in the city. From then on, she'd publish about two hit series every year in Betsuma before graduating successfully to adult women's manga in 1994.

Kuramochi's success was due to her great skill in portraying girls going through crushes, heartbreaks, and jealousy. The psychological elements struck a chord with readers and helped her create male romantic leads that were extremely popular.

Another component of Kuramochi's work was her sophistication, a result of her upbringing. Her father was the chairman of one of Japan's biggest printing companies, and she was raised in Shibuya, in the center of Tokyo, while attending an exclusive all-female institution. The fact she spent her youth in the middle of Tokyo's hustle and bustle meant she knew the capital well, and her works were full of references to trendy cafes, restaurants, nightspots, and neighborhoods. Her Betsuma work was published right before and during Japan's ostentatious Bubble years, so many chasing an exciting city life referred to her work. 

While her stories reflected the reality and aspirations of the Bubble years, Kuramochi's true gift lay in providing readers with a realistic depiction of growing up and falling in love, making her work immensely popular. In general, consumerism -- displayed through clothes, accessories, and decor -- isn't as crucial to her success as the three Ribon "otometique" artists.

While Fusako Kuramochi is part of the "Iwadate domain," you can argue that Kuramochi evolved into her own category, which was vital for the development of real-life love stories in shoujo in the '80s and '90s and the rise of other highly-influential artists like Ryo Ikuemi.

But going back to the three '70s movements, "otometique"/"Iwadate domain" was definitely the most influential one in steering shoujo manga in its current direction. On the other hand, all of these domains co-existed together and fed from each other. In 1977, during the "otometique" boom, Yukari Ichijo remained untouched as one of Ribon's most popular artists with her emotionally charged dramas. It was the success of Ichijo and other "Satonaka domain" artists that allowed the "Hagio domain" to debut and take risks. In turn, it was the "Hagio domain" that showed there were rewards for young risk-taking shoujo artists.

Yumiko Oshima, known for her girly art and sensitive story-telling, is the inspiration behind the otometique boom.

When asked which artist inspired them the most, both A-ko Mutsu and Mariko Iwadate gave the same answer: Yumiko Oshima. Oshima, known for her quirky love stories and girly art, is an artist who trained alongside Hagio and Takemiya at the Oizumi salon and rose as part of the "Year 24 group," publishing risk-taking manga in Shogakukan and Hakusensha's magazine after a brief stint in Weekly Margaret. In other words, despite the striking differences, the origin of the "Iwadate domain" is the "Hagio domain."

While the influence of the idealized real-life romance is the one we can better observe today, contemporary shoujo would not exist if not for all these three styles meshing together and creating something new. And from that, things kept evolving and changing and gaining new forms. Because, once again, manga, and especially shoujo manga, is about reflecting the girly ideals of its time.

[chainmailchalamet]

Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽), Pt. 2

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

————

the tension breaks because of course it does— because eddie, from the moment you move in, seems to be on a one-man mission to pull at every single one of your threads until you unravel at his feet, just so he can put you back together again.

and if you confronted him about it, he’d play dumb about it, because in his defense, he’s not really doing anything he wouldn’t usually do. nothing he wasn’t already doing before you moved in with him — he’d say you were being paranoid, that it was kind of adorable actually.

but you know you’re not, that he’s not just doing what he’d otherwise be doing, that his actions are a targeted attempt to make you lose your mind, to crawl under your skin and live there. that to him, it’s just a matter of time before you snap.

it starts with the cooking thing — he’s always cooking, has been attached to the kitchen since he was a kid, living with his uncle wayne down in virginia — sweet, sweltering hot virginia, where he got his twang and his first tattoos (the stick and poke smiley face on his ankle, the first set of knuckle tats, the bones of his face piece), his love of smoking cigarettes off the top of his trailer on cool, quiet nights with a sky full of stars. wayne, who’s still down in virginia in a cabin that eddie put the money down for with his chef money. uncle wayne, who taught him to gut a fish and skin a deer and whose peach cobbler recipe he’s still trying to get just right. wayne, who he still calls every sunday as he fixes both of you a full dinner spread with greens and sweet potato and baked chicken.

to eddie, cooking is home, and family, roots and heart — it’s more than a love language. it’s a soul language, and he speaks it fluently, teaches it to everyone he lets get close to him.

and it only take a couple of weeks before he’s speaking it to you day and night, until you barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’s got you, because he’s always got you. he’s got you for breakfast, with thick cuts of salmon and fat, fluffy vegan pancakes. with fresh squeezed juice and sausages that he picks up from the polish supermarket in brown paper bags every sunday, because he’s got a plug for that, and a plug for the freshest fruit in-season, for big juicy strawberries and peach preserves and purple kale.

he feeds you, everyday — with leftovers from the restaurant shifts he works until 3 in the morning — he brings you the day’s specials, whatever they are, spoils you with mushroom risotto and grilled eggplant and bucatini made in-house with the most flavorful tomato sauce you’ve ever tasted. if the special is seafood, he brings it home in a freezer bag, with sliced lemon on the side — he serves you your first oyster, your first bite of squid ink pasta, your first full lobster.

he’ll knock on your door at some ungodly hour, and when you invite him in he’s got a plate loaded up for you, bags under his eyes and a tired smile. he’ll watch you take that first bite, make that first satisfied noise, because he knows you’ve been at the drafting table for hours making adjustments to a new garment in time for an editorial shoot over the weekend.

no matter how tired he is, he’ll sit on your bed, looking so out of place amongst your plushies that it makes you bite down a giggle at the sight of him, looking sharp and dangerous surrounded by soft things. no matter how tired he is, he’ll ask you about your day and listen intently, wrinkle between his eyes as he does — and even though you’re shy at first, talking to him about fashion, he’s encouraging, asking you questions until you loosen up a little and you’re talking his ear off about sustainable dyeing practices and bias cuts and the art of the gather. and you know he’s too tired to take it all in but he’ll fight it, yawning in-between questions like you can use onions skins as dye, that’s crazy, what else have you tried and you did that all by hand? so fucking cool — yeah, i mean I can do patches but it’s nothing like that, used to just use dental floss and it wasn’t super clean, nothing like what you do, that’s way more punk, you made a fucking jacket from scratch.

and he makes you shy when he gets like that, when he gives you all his attention, when he keeps track of every bite like you’re suddenly going to hate his cooking, like he’s ready at any moment to fix it for you, to go right back into the kitchen and make you something from scratch, like he wasn’t just groaning about the longest fucking shift of my life, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe — had to hide in the lockup at midnight cuz we just got back to back fucked, substitution after substitution, and i like getting creative, don’t get me wrong, but what the fuck do we have a menu for?

he lights up a little when he talks about the kitchen though, about gareth who does dishes and robin and steve who run the front of house like it’s the navy.

he’ll grin when you scrunch your nose up because he’s smoked through another pack in one shift, flash his teeth and say beats the alternatives, glad you didn’t meet me all strung out and 21, would’ve been vibrating around your room, rearranged the kitchen, lit a real fire in the fireplace.

even on his worst nights, after an actual hell-shift, when his texts get short and a little snappy, when he stops assaulting your chat with emojis, when he spells out every single word and doesn’t reply for hours and all you get after that is a “don’t wait up x”. even when you hear him come in, dragging himself through the apartment like his body is dead weight, even on the worst nights — you’ll wake up in the morning to a spanish omelette on the counter and a sticky note that says “getting some air, sorry about last night x”, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he’s not allowed to be human.

it’s all so domestic — he makes your home a warm cloud to lay in. he makes you feel so at ease, like he’s got you, like he’s a safe place to land.

which is where the problem comes in — because your roommate eddie, your sweet, doting, sensitive eddie, who cries when he says “love you, g’bye” to his uncle wayne without fail every single time they talk, who has taken in one of the neighbors cats (cerberus, sweet and soft and definitely using him for his top-shelf tuna connections) as if it is his own, and calls his guitar sweetheart and shimmies his way around the kitchen on sundays humming let’s hear it for the boys.

that eddie — sweet, darling doting eddie — is a fucking deviant.

he doesn’t show it too often, keeps it tucked away with impressive self-control, maybe even tries to hide it from you until he’s sure you’re settled, until you start to wonder if you just imagined that glint in his eyes the first day you met him — until the mask slips, until you catch a glimpse of his shadow once more and you think to yourself “there he is”.

it happens because of a bottle of tequila — because it always does. you go out drinking with him and his work friends, because you lost all of yours in the breakup, and eddie says he’s already told everyone all about you, that they already love you, c’mon sweetheart, it’s my night off and i wanna celebrate, know you got that shoot coming up, barely been drinking water you’re working so much, don’t think i haven’t noticed. come dance with me, just one night, i promise i’ll get you back in one piece.

and when he puts you on the spot like that, makes you feel exposed like that, looks at you with his bambi eyes all wide like that, you can’t really say no.

so you get all dressed up (change your outfit three times, because it’s been a long time since you’ve been out and you wanna make a good impression, damn it), and you might be freaking out a little. but then eddie yells out “c’mon honey, bet you look perfect, lemme see you”, and you swallow that anxiety because you like the way his voice curls around the words like that, that honey-twang he’s got cuz you’ve both been pre-gaming a little (him with a homemade margarita, you with a glass of red wine). it makes you brave, makes you take a deep breath and step out into the living room. and you both see each other all dressed up for the first time and — something shifts.

something tilts on its god damn axis — it’s the start of the end.

his hair is wild. big and dark and wild and sparkling through like he’s sprayed glitter in it. he’s got the most delicious black leather jacket on, fit perfect to his body and aged just right. he’s got this sheer fucking fabric stretched across his torso — it’s barely a shirt, just a scrap of something dark that lets you see the cut of his hips and the ink in his skin and the silver rings in his nipples.

his pants are low cut, ripped jagged across both knees, like he busted them open skating — and his boots are obscene, steel-toed shit-kickers, red-laces cutting through them like veins. he looks so good you want to stomp your feet and whine “not fair, who gave you eyeliner, that’s cheating”.

he looks like a young god, like hell on legs, like a flashing neon sign that says “i am going to fuck your life up and you’re going to thank me for it”. you suddenly can’t read.

the way he’s looking at you makes your mouth dry up, makes your thighs press together, makes you want to fall to your knees and worship. it’s all that desire you forgot that he possessed, that you only catch flashes of in the quiet moments — when he’s giving you a taste of something new and his eyes travel down to your lips wrapping round the edge of the spoon, when you hum low and pleased with your eyes closed and you open them up and he’s giving you that look again, that “run, rabbit, run” look.

for the first time in weeks he’s not hiding any of it from you — runs his gaze over your face and down your neck, across your shoulder and down your stomach, to your hips and both your thighs (he takes his time right there, sees you twitch, darts up to meet your eyes real quick, almost-smiles, like he’s saying “got you”)

and then up, up, up again. he takes his time. he runs his tongue across his lips, comes up real close and tugs on one of your braids with a scrunch between his brows, looks down at you and blows out a quiet rush of air and says “we should go, right now” like he means “before i do something i regret”.

that night, something inside you snaps.

his friends all clearly know something you don’t, and they are varying degrees of subtle about it. chrissy hugs you and smiles big and bright and says aren’t you the prettiest god damn thing i’ve ever seen but she’s looking at eddie when she says it, and it makes your face heat up.

robin and steve are all wry and knowing, bitchy in a fun way, exchanging little smiles with each other, all he’s finally let you out the dungeon, huh? thought he was gonna keep you all to himself.

jon is quiet but he gives eddie this little nod like “i see you” and his boyfriend argyle is already two-thirds into a bottle of casamigos so he just says the quiet part out loud, somehow makes it sound so chill, like it’s not a big deal that he takes one look at you and goes holy shit, eddie wasn’t lying, you’re like — what the fuck, i’d write songs about you too. doesn’t even give you a second to unpack all that before there’s a shot in your hand.

and then the drinks keep flowing and you start to loosen up and enjoy yourself and eddie doesn’t seem phased by any of the teasing, sits close to you and takes sips out of his drink (fruity, staining his tongue red as punch, sickly sweet when he lets you have a taste of it), keeps his eyes on you all night, just takes it all in stride — like he was expecting this, like he’s made his peace.

and you’re too drunk now to let it go, so you turn to him while steve and rob are busy bullying everyone else and you slur out something like so you’re obsessed with me, huh? and he smiles sharp and dirty and goes you don’t wanna go there with me honey, and you say why not, you’re all talk, don’t pussy out on me and his eyes go pitch black.

he nods his head, hums to himself. “noted.”

and it just goes down, down, down from there. because now you’re worked up, feeling bratty, feeling mean. you nod too, and he’s just taking you in, sitting too close, watching you like he’s curious, like he’s just delighted at the thought of what you’re gonna do next. bet, you think. let’s go, then.

steve seems like your best bet, so you ask him if he wants to dance, sugary sweet and wide-eyed, and he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night, says later losers, time to have some actual fun and takes your hand, cutting eddie a look like the cat that got the cream as you climb over his lap on your way out.

eddie’s just looking, looking, looking. quiet storm brewing across his face. leans in close before you’re gone to whisper “careful, baby” in your ear, like a warning.

you just smile at him, shrug. come get me, big bad.

dancing with steve is easy, his arm across your back, your hips pressed close. he says “your boy’s watching, wanna give him something to look at?” and you pout, tell him “he’s not gonna do shit, stevie, he’s all talk”.

steve smiles at you like you’re so dumb, just delightfully stupid, so you ask him what he knows and he says “i know he’s real sweet on you, but you better watch it, honey — eddie’s not the one to play with.”

and then he leans into your ear and tells you a story about a wolf who walks like a man and talks like a man and acts like a sheep — but he’s a wolf, honey. he likes to bite, likes to play with his food — keeps his prey tied down in his lair and takes them apart, piece by piece, until they’re crying, begging, until the fight leaves them all at once and they go empty between the ears, until they’re just gone. and then he just keeps taking, taking, taking. until they’ve got nothing left to give him.

and the music is so syrupy sweet that you’re lost in it, lost in the roll of your hips, lost in steve’s voice rumbling in your ears, low and hypnotic, lost in the drinks flowing through your veins — until steve has to hold you by the chin and force you to look up at him and say “still with me, little lamb?”

your throat is dry when you ask him how he knows what he knows, and he just looks over your shoulder (you know who he’s looking at, you feel those eyes across your back, he’s always watching, he just never stops looking) and tilts his chin up and goes why don’t you ask him yourself, honey?

and then eddie’s right there, pressed up against your back — leaning down to your ear to ask if you’re having fun, and for a second you’re pressed up between them both, letting steve rock you back into eddie, letting eddie grip you by the hips and pull you back, back, back, guiding you into a slow, filthy grind. your eyes fall close, you barely notice steve pressing a kiss to your temple, trilling have funnnn before he’s gone into the crowd again.

you still with me, eddie asks, at the same time you spin round and ask him “you fucked steve?”

he laughs a little and hums i see y’all been getting acquainted, pulls you close again and says jealous, honey?

you say you wish, and then you did, didn’t you? said you act like a sheep, but you’re not, are you? you’re a wolf.

he looks down at you, runs his hands under the straps of your top, presses his palms to the skin of your back, dips his head down. you know, i wanted to do this right — wanted to woo you and shit. feed you, keep you warm, treat you sweet.

and you know, you know, you know. what are you gonna do with me now, eddie?

he just looks at you. looks and looks, pulls you closer, let’s his hand creep down, down, down, makes the heat in your body swoop down low in your tummy when he grips you hard over your skirt, sweeps one hand in your hair and gets his fingers tangled in your braids, all the way down to the root and tugs, real mean with it.

he makes you bare your neck to him, makes you gasp, makes you wanna beg. for his teeth in your neck, for his hands between your thighs, for his mouth on you. you gonna hurt me, eddie?

he shrugs. i don’t know yet, honey. you gonna ask me nice for it? gonna ask for what you want instead of being a rude little brat, making me think you wanna fuck my friends?

your mouth goes dry. i wasn’t tryna —

nah, you just wanted me to think it, didn’t you? his voice drops low, mean, dark. dumb bunny, you didn’t actually think that was gonna work, did you? steve likes em big and bad, and you’re fucking nothing like that, are you? pretty little doll, he’d eat you alive.

he’s all inside your head, barely leaving you any space for yourself, and the way he sneers dumb bunny makes you squirm, makes you ache. he’s got you pinned in place like a fly in amber, nowhere else to run. and you wouldn’t?

he tilts his head, hums, says it again, wanted to do this right, wanted to lay you out on my bed and make you feel good. he mouths a kiss across your neck, traces his tongue across the skin, just the tip, just a tease. asked me if i was obsessed with you. stupid fucking question, baby. knew you were mine, first second i saw you, walked into my house and made it all strawberry and honey, seeped into everything, kept me up at night with it — and now it’s all over our home, our fucking home.

he uses his teeth, opens his mouth wide like a beast, like he can’t just smell you, like he needs the taste of it too, needs to feel the flesh between his teeth. and you can see right though me, can’t you, baby? the others, they think they see it, think they know what i think when i look at you, but you know, don’t you? you’ve always known.

you know. you’ve known. he wants inside your skin, wants to worm his way deep and build a home there. wants to keep you fed, keep you full, make you happier than anyone could. wants to own your happiness and your hunger, greedy over it. fucked up over the thought of anyone taking care of you better than he could, knows in his soul that no one else could. it makes you scared, makes you warm, makes you feel insane. you should run, should find a new apartment and start over because you’re so raw, and vulnerable, and he could hurt you, he wants to hurt you —

you tilt your head back, you run your hands across his shoulders, over his back, up into his hair, and you grab a handful and pull. he makes a noise like a wounded dog. he pants for it, folds forward like he got the breath knocked out of him — you think he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, feel him kick up against you, big and warm and hard against your hip and your head swims with the thought. over and over, the same thought — mine, mine, mine.

yeah, sweet thing, m’yours, all yours, all of it, all yours, he whines, just for you. must’ve heard you, must’ve said it out loud. he sounds hollowed out, like you’ve let all his air out, and you’re wild for it.

tell me how, you say. you tug his head down so you can speak into his ear, and he goes down easy, so easy. when i let you take me to bed, when i let you have it, what will you do to me? what first?

a knife, he says, like a man possessed. toys with all your straps, slips his fingers underneath and tugs. wanna cut you out of this pretty fabric. look like an angel, wanna rip it to shreds, lay you down in the ribbons.

to ruin me, you say.

to make your heart race, he sings. he sways into you, sounds so consumed with desire it makes him drunk, makes him slur his words like his teeth are too big for his mouth. make you scared, make you wanna run so i can catch you. hold you down, press the blade up against your skin and play.

he wants to play. with a knife to your neck. fucking freak.

yours, yours, yours, he says. pulls back to look at you, hisses when you follow him with your hands in his hair, eyes rolling up and then back down, eyes half-shut, lights going out until it’s all a stretch of midnight without a star in the sky.

beautiful boy, you think. terrible, terrible, gorgeous boy.

wanna spit in your fucking mouth, he confesses. wanna hold my hand over your nose and watch your throat work as you swallow. wanna make you wet all over.

you’re already wet all over, and he knows that. can probably smell it, the wolf.

you’re still dancing, somehow. still swaying, still pressed up against each other, no room for common sense. his friends are nowhere to be seen — the crowd of bodies around you have all blurred away. you want to be home, in his bed, his lair, at his mercy. you tell him as much, and he smiles at you like he’s proud. love it when you tell me the truth, he says. love it when you show me.

better make it worth it, eddie, you say. better make it hard to leave your bed in the morning.

and then, he sings. and then, and then, and then.

greedy boy, you think, never gonna let me go, never gonna let anyone else touch me ever again.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, red and sweet and sharp. and then, you say, then you’re gonna feed me, like you always do.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you have any suggestions for a letter-writing ttrpg for 3+ people?

THEME: Epistolary Games (Part 3)

Do you have any suggestions for a letter-writing ttrpg for 3+ people?

Hello friend. First of all, I’m going to recommend my first post about epistolary RPGs, as well as my follow up post.

Now, onward to a few newer recommendations!

We 3 Shall Meet Again, by sdunnewold.

This is a story game, and the story goes like this: Once upon a time, on the edge of a dark forest, three witches were cursed to share one body. They took turns living out days, never meeting, communicating only by post-it notes and dirty dishes while they searched for a way free.

It’s kind of a story about regret, bodily autonomy, and BAD roommates.

You play in three acts: An in-person Opening Gathering, a Time Apart of asynchronous play through notes, and an in-person Closing Gathering. Each of you 3 plays for about 30 minutes to 1 hour every week.

While this isn’t necessarily an epistolary game, it’s very similar. The three players will write asynchronously, and meet up at the beginning and the end of the game to tie up the acts. If you have the ability to meet up online for short periods, this might still give you the ability to experience asynchronous play without having to send something in the mail. What I like about this game is the beautiful layout, the simple design, and the ability to have a thoughtful conversation with your friends about topics that might be easier to confront in a fictional space.

A Response to the Esteemed Dr. Crackpot, by Emily Jankowski.

A game of academic squabbles for two or more players. Fight for your hypothesis in a series of responses published by one of the journals in your field. Defend your academic integrity at all costs. Everyone needs to know your rival is wrong.

A simple one-page game, A Response to the Esteemed Dr. Crackpot is a quick guide to writing increasingly aggressive academic editorials about whatever subject you’d like to write about.

This game made me think immediately about this piece by Marie Brennan, a short story about an academic character who is struggling to be respected in the field of dragonology. It’s so entertaining and I think that this quick guide is all you need to write something of your own design. You can organize roles with friends ahead of time if you like, and choose whatever academic field you like whether it be a real field (like mathematics) or an invented specialty - like basilisk husbandry. If you like, you could even combine this game with something like Vrakoth’s Guide to Creature Cataloguing or Exquisite Biome.

Epistolary, by En Sattaur.

Epistolary is a “play-by-post” role-playing game in a very traditional sense. Players write letters, in character, and send them to each other through the post. A game of Epistolary takes place over several weeks – or even months – of real time, corresponding to the same amount of time within the game world.

In Epistolary, the player characters work together to solve a mystery and prevent something terrible from happening. There is no game master or lead player: the details of the threat, and of the characters’ plans to overcome it, are created collaboratively through the exchange of letters as the game is played.

All of the players involved in this game have only pieces of the full picture; the details of the mystery will be uncovered as you write letters to each-other. The time that it takes to send letters to each-other will also pass in-game, thus the threat that ever grows could feel slow and eerie, or large and menacing. Each player will need a copy of the game, in order to refer to the prompts given as well as to build your character. If you want a detailed game that has the potential to last for a really long game, this is for you.

Scribbled Ink, Cracked Screens and Inkblots, by babblegumsam.

Scribbled Ink, Cracked Screens, and Inkblots tells the story of two romantic Admirers trying to express their feelings towards one another through lyric poetry.However, they are constantly thwarted by their inability to properly communicate, represented by the Scribble - the unspoken, unseen force that complicates their lives.

All you need to play this game are 3 willing participants and a method of communication. What I like about this game is the potential for drama, and the ability to express your feelings about the antics of the Scribble in between texts or letters. This is a great way to include players who maybe enjoy different things about role-play - while some players may enjoy the chance to role-play heartfelt conversations, others may enjoy creating puzzles, codes, or funny obstacles. Scribbled Ink gives you the chance to combine those modes of play for a truly unique experience.

Ghost & Devil & Liar, by scyllallycs.

Ghost & Devil & Liar is a 4-player letter-writing murder mystery game. The renowned Medium does not know the identity of the killer, but their three otherworldly contacts do.

In this game, four people take on the roles of a Medium, a haunted spirit, a demonic entity, and a supernatural trickster. The four send letters back and forth, conveying information by following special rules, until the Medium makes a guess about the identity of the murderer.

If you like horror and mystery, if you like supernatural beings and a dark theme, this is the game for you. Three characters know things that another does not: their job is to communicate hints and clues to the Medium to help them piece things together. Each entity has different rules as to how they can communicate, providing interesting obstacles for the players to overcome.

The game has high replay-ability, because each case’s details are randomized. You’ll each need a deck of regular playing cards, but you won’t need any dice. If you want a game that keeps you invested and challenges your group’s ability to work as a team, I strongly recommend this game.