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girlsfest2025-02-03 05:59 pm
Round 1: Quotes
Each prompt should be centered around words that have already been said.
Possibilities include a quote of any kind:
- Existing works (books, poetry, TV shows, movie scripts, video game scripts, song lyrics, articles)
- Speech (celebrity, netizen, anonymous)
- Anything else that fits!
Click here to view the fest rules.
RULES
- You are not required to have a Dreamwidth account to participate. There are no signups necessary. You may post anonymously if you want.
- There will be 3 rounds of this fest, and 1 round will be opened each week of the fest. Rounds will be left open for fills and comments, so there is no deadline for participating.
- Prompts do not have to be claimed before you write them, and they can be filled by more than one person.
- Once a round is open, you can continue submitting prompts for it until the end of the fest moderation period. (Ex: On February 17 after Round 3 opens, you’re still allowed to submit prompts to Round 1 and 2.)
- There is no minimum or maximum word count for fills. In the spirit of the fest, we encourage you to write shorter works, but any length is welcome and appreciated!
- Users are allowed to crosspost their fic on any other site, such as AO3. However, we ask that when possible, writers post the text of their fills as a reply to the prompt and include a link to an AO3 post if they choose to do so, instead of just linking to an AO3 post in their comment. This helps keep discussion in our community!
- Feel free to subscribe and join the comm to keep track of updates and view them on your reading page.
CONTENT
Prompts and fills have to center around K-pop girl group member(s). This includes:
- All active and former girl group members
- Female soloists
- Female members in co-ed groups
- Any female idol or trainee affiliated with K-pop (e.g., GP999 contestants, AKB48 members who featured in Produce48)
- Slash, gen, het, and trans works are all accepted as long as they involve at least one girl group member
PROMPTING
To prompt, reply to a round post and copy the following template in.
It will look like this when empty:
Tags:
Prompt:
Fill out the form with your prompt. You can also write in "Any" to give the writer freedom to choose their own. For example:
Tags: sports au
Prompt:
Though, I do admit, it came on fast
Still, I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing
For forever
Loathing
Truly, deeply loathing you
My whole life long
— What is this Feeling, Wicked
FILLING
To post a fill, post a comment reply to the prompt you wrote for and copy the following template in. Title your comment with [FILL] followed by the title of your ficlet.
It will look like this once filled out:
Characters/Ship: lesserafim sakura/lee chaeyeon
Tags: post-produce48, canon compliant
Permission to Remix: Please ask
-
Content of fill here...
Please provide content warnings for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage as well as NSFW/explicit content.
Fills with NSFW/explicit content should have (NSFW) at the end of the comment title.
Example: [FILL] love hangover (NSFW)
REMIXES
You are welcome to remix fics that the original author has approved for remixing. A remix is a work directly or indirectly inspired by another work.
To post a remix, post a comment reply to the comment you remixed and copy the following template in with your info. Title your comment with [REMIX] followed by the title of your remix.
[FILL] doll parts, big veins, dog bait
Tags: jennifer's body au, idolverse, warnings for mature themes
Permission to Remix: please ask!
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"You know how they used to have those lists in magazines? Like which of the hottest celebrities you'd bring home to mother?"
"Magazines," Minjeong repeats, doubtful.
"It's what used to be there instead of 'top five celebrities with the best eyelids' now. The old magazines we used to see as kids," Jimin says. She leans forward towards the dresser mirror to pick at a stray eyelash on her cheek. They'd woken up late today and rushed out of the dorms. The car had been silent, nothing but the radio and its morning talk segment on. In the dressing room, the radio now drones on about a fire that had burned down an old bar near Mapo. Two injured, one missing. "It's practically just an excuse to rank girls from most to least respectable"
"You're lying," Minjeong says.
"Am not," Jimin insists, but her voice softens. The stylist behind them flits in and out to grab a curling iron; Minjeong feels, rather than hears it turn on. The gentle heat skims close to her neck, warms her pulse. "Where do you think you'd be on that list?" Jimin asks.
"Nowhere."
"Come on, Minjeongie. Don't be boring."
Minjeong considers putting her fists to her own hair and letting out a fake sob. It's like watching one of those quivering mad little dogs, Jimin happily told her once. It brings her amusement to tease, to see Minjeong showing exaggerated signs of stress as an appropriate defense move.
The last list Minjeong had been on was brought to her knowledge by the hosts of Amazing Saturday: best vocals ranked, Winter of Aespa reigning among an arbitrary top five. She'd been happy then, as Kim Taeyeon squeezed her shoulder on the talk show beside her, like she was proud too. Meanwhile, Karina's face shape has been a reference for college girls who saved up birthday money through high school for a jaw shave, ever since Aespa's debut.
"Where would you be?" Minjeong asks. She watches Jimin, who is watching her own eyes narrow at herself in thought, a soft smile there.
"Seven," Jimin says.
"Those lists suck ," Minjeong concludes, and Jimin laughs, the sound of it breathy and sharp.
The circle hovering over the map hasn’t moved for a while. It’s been thirty minutes or some, near forty—the little icon on Minjeong's phone that depicts Jimin’s location has stayed idle. It's on a street with a restaurant and a row of unmanned thrift stores. She’d been at a residence park before that: don’t wait up, Jimin had said earlier in front of the mirror near the front door, and walked out of the dorm in the Margiela ankle boots she’d been gifted. A card with her name on it had been plucked from the wrapping the boots had come in. To Karina, with love, the brand had written in a clinical scrawl.
Pretty, Giselle had said, her voice absent, but Minjeong had been watching her, the way Giselle's throat had tightened with something she had wanted to say but didn’t. There were other gifts—necklaces, a personalised comb, a handbag—all of them broken or soiled within days after more brands had sent them over. It’s not cause for alarm; Minjeong had shrunk a full cashmere sweater in the wash some time after their debut, and cried in a hiccupping heap on her bedroom floor while Ningning assessed the damage beside her.
That was a long time ago, though. Minjeong knows better now. They all should.
A few days ago, Jimin flicked a finger over the tongue of the ankle boot, pressed gently into the toe of it as if to assess the material, her smile syrupy and satisfied before it turned into something tired and stiff. There had been a time, before—when Jimin had trouble accepting gifts as readily. She'd shift her eyes towards the thing being thrusted and nudged towards her at airports, flight in flight out, and take the thing shyly. Packaged gifts sent to their dorm were opened by their manager first. Precautions.
Minjeong isn’t sure when was the last time she did this. Tracked her members on Find my Phone while they were on dates, that is, for safety. Her room is dark, and from the crack in the door left ajar, she can hear the faint music from Ningning’s room, some alt-r&b playlist she’s been looping since the sun had set.
Through the window, there are sirens wailing in the far-off distance. Karina—Jimin's dot on the phone screen, is by a bridge, moving.
In between sleep, Minjeong thinks she might be dreaming of Jimin, stumbling into their dorm exhausted and careful, kicking off those boots. The boots are stained with blood.
The leather is as black as the night though, so in the morning, Minjeong isn't quite sure if she remembers it right.
In the morning, the news talks about Kim Dongho. He is twenty-nine, and a DJ. His body was found floating in a creek; the residing peaceful neighbourhood had to have water supply shut off for an hour to make sure it hadn’t been contaminated with the blood, from where his arteries were strewn out, his body mangled from the chest downwards. The photo they released on television broadcast is a decent one, flattering enough to make him look younger.
"Yeji knew him," Giselle says.
"Seriously?" Ningning asks.
Jimin drinks the last of the cereal milk from the bowl and dumps the ceramic in the sink. It's the loudest sound in their dorm so far.
"Overstatement," Jimin says. "She flirted with him so he could play the music she wanted."
"So, she knew him," Minjeong points out, the air tight beneath her ribs.
But Jimin is not looking at her, or her phone, which isn't blowing up. She's muted all her group chats again; Minjeong tries to imagine what Yeji would be doing right now, but she can't. Morbid passive interest towards Jimin's friends and what Jimin does while with them can only take her so far. Girls like Hwang Yeji and Shin Ryujin are the same age as Jimin and therefore close enough to Minjeong's age, but Minjeong doesn't really have any reason to be more than cordial with them if they see each other backstage at shows.
"Yeji-ah would be in shock, obviously," Jimin says. She doesn't sound exasperated as much as she sounds a little irritated, as she's opening the fridge to take out a half-eaten peach strudel. Minjeong's peach strudel. The orange glaze glistens as Jimin dips her finger into the dollop of whipped cream.
"I'm going to sound like a heartless dick, but he wasn't that good of a guy," Jimin huffs. "Maybe God gave what was coming for him."
"Girl," Giselle murmurs while Minjeong says, "My fucking strudel."
"Baby, I'll buy you dinner," Jimin says softly. She sounds sheepish, even in between sucking sugar off her thumb. Her skin seems to glow near the sunlight pouring in, the softest part of her stomach peeking out underneath the baby tee she has on.
Jimin's boots aren't lying haphazardly beside the shoe rack along with their heels, so she's probably stowed them away in her room. Minjeong has mostly ignored the curious urge to look at the shoes.
For as long as Minjeong has known her, Jimin has always maintained some semblance of belief in God. Jimin doesn't go to church anymore, but Minjeong is pretty sure that the only reason the rest of them put their hands together to say a silent prayer before an important meal, is because Jimin does it first. She doesn't impose, so they follow suit like ducklings. Shared gratitude is more sincere and contagious than shared reverence.
Jimin always knew when Minjeong was going to say something bold before she did. It's not a bad thing; Minjeong's complaints about not being taken seriously are the best way to get Jimin's attention. She smiled but didn't laugh when Minjeong told her story about the awkward first time she'd kissed someone, and for this, Minjeong was grateful.
Jimin did laugh, though, a surprised and humourless sound after Minjeong told her when she'd had sex the first time (over the New Year's break, with a friend of an old friend back in Busan on Minjeong's 20th birthday. As if losing her virginity had been a gift). Did you ask for it? Jimin said, staring at her, her eyes dark as black pools in the night. Her soft smile felt cutting, sharp-edged. Minjeong only frowned at her and her judgement and concern, yeah I asked first, I'm actually happy right now, by the way, Minjeong answered, too aware of how steady she'd tried to make her own voice sound. Later on, she realised that what she had felt in that moment, was really just irritation.
Maybe judgement is too harsh a word. Jimin has responsibilities, a tiny face and a natural capacity to fill people's eyes with stars when she smiles. The first time Jimin lost her virginity, she might have been seventeen. There was blood, then, like most firsts. She adds two or three years to that age if a boyfriend asks. Whether it's to tell them what they want to hear, or alter a personal detail in the name of paranoia, she says it makes the sex a little more interesting.
Minjeong doesn't quite understand what that means, but as it goes, her own first had been at twenty. If she's getting on a subjective list about purity, she'd rank above Jimin, like, hypothetically.
"So what are you saying. That you think it's weird that she can keep going out like this?" Ningning asks.
"Don't you?" Minjeong says, a little incredulous, a little pointed.
Ningning looks up from the sneaker that she's painting on. Minjeong wouldn't have cut into her hobby time, but Ningning is better at keeping things private.
"Jimin was at that bar when the fire started. I'd just stay cooped up at home for a while if that shit happened to me," Minjeong explains.
"But you are a homebody anyway."
Minjeong raises a fist, and lowers it. It's silent for a while, the both of them in Ningning's room on the hardwood floor. Ningning keeps painting the sneaker and Minjeong keeps watching the deliberate movements of her brush.
"Have you heard anything about Hwang Yeji?" Ningning prompts, more seriously.
"No." If Yeji isn't devastated, she is at least shaken. Jimin would never lie about her friends.
"Jimin-unnie can take care of herself, right?"
Minjeong rests her chin on her knees, legs tucked close to her chest. "Sure she can."
Ningning nods. "It's so much better now, for her. She isn't scared anymore."
And Minjeong knows what Ningning means: there was one gift, years ago: a parcel addressed to Karina which was wrapped so beautifully that Jimin had been careful with the removal of the shimmery paper.
Inside had been a thin book, bounded like a cheap fan book—but the pictures were manipulated, Jimin's face Photoshopped on top of nude bodies that weren't hers. What a cheap joke, their manager had said; his face had been pale with anger.
Minjeong had been so angry herself that she'd had tears in her eyes; she's always been an easy crier. Jimin secluded herself to her own room for a couple of days after that. In retrospect, what Minjeong feels she should have done was take the book herself, their manager's cigarette lighter, and set the thing on fire.
It's still dark when Minjeong wakes up. The blue light on her air purifier is a gentle hum of electricity. The only other sign of life is the shower running adjacent to her bedroom at 3:01 in the morning.
She'd been dreaming of something, but now she can't remember. She tries to remember—with her eyes closed, the faint groan of the plumbing through these walls, she's groggy with exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that happens when a heavy dream leaves a score on her body.
Suddenly, there's the slight shift of her mattress, another heavy weight on it—Minjeong jolts when she feels a light hand at her hip.
"Shit," she gasps.
Jimin says, "Relax."
"You have your own bed!"
"The date was a bust," Jimin tells her. She sounds amused, like she'd had fun anyway.
Even in the dim lamplight that Minjeong had switched on, Jimin looks happy looking up at her through her lashes. She's wearing a stretched-out sweatshirt that Minjeong had given her, and not much else.
Her boxer briefs are an old pair. Her legs look—great. Strong like she's just had a workout. Minjeong wonders if Jimin was lying about her date, if her thighs ache right now. She used to see Jimin's mouth swollen and softer-looking after a night out occasionally, the finger marks that men would leave on her waist and thighs, the curve of her tits. She would genuinely be embarrassed when the members catch that in the bathroom—Minjeong doesn't get why, when she knows Jimin is satisfied too for the most part. There are no marks tonight.
"Go to bed," Minjeong says weakly. All she wants is to burrow herself back under her duvet.
"I just missed you," Jimin tells her, quieter, looking down at her own nails. Her brow is furrowed, like there's been something on her mind.
Minjeong closes her eyes. They used to do this; tell each other about their dates. In between late practice, the constant schedules and the almost unbearable slowness of any rare, free days, it could feel nice: Did you at least get a kiss, she'd ask, and Jimin could sigh, yeah, it was good. How it was good always had to do with their hands—where they'd touched, the roughness of the pads of their fingers, how they'd press a thumb to the corner of her pink mouth and she'd keep it open, to tease.
Minjeong feels this now; Jimin touches her thumb to her bottom lip, and she feels her own mouth part, like magic. Jimin is close enough, so very close that her lashes graze Minjeong's cheek. Minjeong keeps her lips parted, frozen. She feels like she should. She feels that it's the only right thing to do.
"Don't be scared," Jimin says fondly, her breath hot on Minjeong's teeth until, finally, she slides her hand over Minjeong's neck, fingernails pressing below a soft spot behind her ear, for a kiss.
They've never done this. Couple roleplay when they were bored, sure, with Minjeong delegated to being a boyfriend most times.
But this is completely new.
There's a soft pained sound through the kiss, Minjeong realises it's from her own throat. She can barely breathe, with Jimin licking into her mouth now. She wants to hook her thumb over Jimin's teeth, and keep her wet mouth open. Minjeong wants to see it for herself, not hear about it. She wants to see how red the thin skin on Jimin's thighs can get. If she'd let Minjeong slip her fingers inside her; or reach around down the crease of her ass and press a finger to a sensitive spot where she shouldn't.
"Wait," Minjeong breathes, pulls apart. She hears the low surprise in Jimin's laugh and it seems to break the spell.
"Still scared?" Jimin asks. Her cheeks look darker, and she looks really good and well-kissed.
"Why are you here?" Minjeong asks.
Jimin's smile tightens. "Are you still scared?"
"No."
Jimin's eyes seem to harden, then. "Do you remember what I told you, the night of that fire? I'll tell you."
Re: [FILL] doll parts, big veins, dog bait
ahhh this is just perfect! thank you for this!
Re: [FILL] doll parts, big veins, dog bait
Re: [FILL] doll parts, big veins, dog bait
perfect adaptation and i had to laugh at "Girl," Giselle murmurs while Minjeong says, "My fucking strudel."
Re: [FILL] doll parts, big veins, dog bait