#this is nearly 1500 words

[captainfairygodmother]

Apparently I'm writing a Torchwood fic now... I'll write the first few chapters but I'll probably have to actually watch Miracle Day for plot purposes after the first like 10 chapters

[dinsbeskar]

I'm going to kms, walk into the river and become a trout, I've just lost 1500 words bc I forgot to hit save and the app froze

[nostalgia-tblr]

i will allow myself write this 'beauty and the beast'-type thing as long as i get it done before i go to bed tonight, so that it doesn't end up as another endless project that i procrastinate on for months.

*rolls up sleeves*

[bismuthburnsblue]

Help me design a dress!

this is our fabric! (left is the product image, right is my actual piece of fabric- ruler on the left is cm, on the right is inches, to give you an idea of print scale) its the black version of the break up robe print, in a lightweight & crisp cotton. i have 4.5m (5y) so it should be enough to make most designs, though some will require consideration in the cutting- we will get to that later though. (the fabric is also narrow, i think its only 110cm wide. (its still folded in the picture))

my goal here is to make a comfy wearable dress, something pretty casual & everyday in silhouette, but i would also like if it was possible to style up for a more formal look. most of my inspiration for this project has come from 1950s dresses, because thats a style i lean towards for myself, though im not aiming for anything "true vintage" or anything. im also fond of lolita dresses, so im more than down to draw inspiration from those also!

also, the print is pretty bold compared to my usual style, so ive considered doing some kind of translucent (chiffon, tulle, mesh) overlay to tone it down so its more wearable in my wardrobe. this will entirely depend on it working with out final design, and even then, ill offer you the decision at the end! ultimately, i still want to be able to appreciate the fabric. (for sewing people: id intend to do it as a flat lining, so it sits right up against the fabric underneath, not as a complete separate layer. i find this makes it block out the design slightly less) doing this could also help with adding structure to the dress, which i already think some designs might need, considering how thin the fabric is.

ok now the brief is out of the way, onto the first decision for the dress: the shape of the skirt. if you want to vote based entirely on vibes, feel free to click away, but i have included some more writing about each option & its ups and downs in this particular project under the cut (also pictures of each style if youre not so familar with what they are!)

& the propaganda for the options:

Circle skirt: you can never go wrong with a circle skirt- theyre probably my favourite to wear overall & i especially like the low bulk join to the waist as i sometimes find things with gathers dont sit as nicely on me. the way circle skirts are cut also gives them a movement that the other two methods simply cannot compete with in my eyes.

The main downside is working a circle skirt with this particular fabric. the fabric is not wide enough to cut the entire front as one, so i would either need a centre front seam or to make it a 3/4 circle skirt- something im 100% ok with, i honestly find at midi length a full circle to be too much sometimes. (there is technically the option to have full circle but rotate it so the seams are at side, but that might then mean i have to do some shenanigans with where the fastenings go). also, because the design is directional, each quarter will need to be cut so the seams end up on the bias, which makes for an Incredibly inefficient cutting layout. (again, if theres a CF seam, thatll be on the diagonal of the design, which really defeats the point of putting in the effort in the first place, to me.) i think i would be able to get all the panels i need out of the piece of fabric i have, but i think i would be a bit more limited with top options as i try to make sure to use as many of the small pieces left over as possible.

Gathered skirt: these are by far the easiest to do in terms of sewing. in my research into casual 50's dresses about 90% of all pictures i saw featured a dress with a gathered skirt (or actually, a lot seemed to have tiny pleats that give the effect of gathers, like the coral one. if we vote this way, i would be tempted to go try them as i think it might solve my bothers with gathered skirts in general)

i generally find gathered skirts less flattering on me- they add bulk at the waist and then hang straight down off the hips (when not puffed up with a petticoat) and thats generally not something i like on myself. i could improve that though by bringing more fabric in to increase the hem, and adding horsehair braid to the hem to help it swoop without additional support (again, my goal for this project is causal day dress)

this pattern uses the least fabric i think, depending on how much you put in the skirt- i think i should get a perfectly satisfactorily full skirt from this with less than 2m of fabric used. (honestly might end up too efficient- id like to use up all the fabric i have in this, and i really dont need that much for a bodice. i can see myself adding 4, even 5 widths into the skirt to use up yardage. i dont particularly see that as a problem though)

despite my reservations because of gathered skirts ive made before, for this project it does have one massive point in its favour: the fact that its still a full piece of fabric. all other styles here all cut quite significantly into the design to create their shape, while this be one panel of the fabric from edge to edge. preserving the design of this fabric is pretty high on my priority list, after all, i bought this fabric specifically because it was the OFMD break up robe print. i want whatever design i make to work with that.

Tiered skirt: for me, tiered skirts are the best of both worlds in terms of the effect they give. the fact each layer doubles means they keep some of the swish a circle skirt gives (and, i find, they tend to have more of the A-Line shape of a circle skirt too) while not being quite so consuming of fabric as you cut. i couldnt find many examples of 50's dresses with them (though i did find some) so i do feel like this style pulls more towards the style of lolita dresses & that might be reflected in the options i offer in subsequent rounds.

if you know anything about petticoats, then youll notice that this style of skirt is essentially the same construction as them (though petticoats often introduce extra layers and ruffles and.....) when ive made this style of skirt in the past i have found that it holds volume much like a petticoat does, without the need for an extra undergarment- something thats great for a casual dress!

I was thinking three tiers is the ideal number for this dress, though i could make it only two. i dont think i would make it more as, if i keep them even (which was my intention, though i am also fond of the styles that increase with each tier like my example images) then each tier will probably be 20cm wide, which is already looking like itll cut into the features of the design. i think that is the single biggest downside for this style- i wont reasonably be able to do much 'fussy cutting' either to work with the print, its simply not practical to do on this scale.

At a rough estimate, i think this is gonna use 3m of fabric in the skirt, which puts it slap bang in the middle in terms of fabric efficiency. i should have plenty enough to do it, maybe even to increase it if i want to, while still being pretty unlimited about what i do with the rest of the design.

one last thing- trim! one unique feature of this design is the opportunity to play with trim on the skirt itself. i do have some bodice ideas that play around with trim, and it would be really nice to introduce it into the skirt too, if we go that way. it could even be a fun nod to the piping on the original break up robe!!!!

Something else (comment): while doing my research i came across SO MANY design ideas that i could play around with. for this poll i picked the three i thought would probably work the best for this project, but i wanted an opportunity for you to yell at me if you want something different entirely. feel free to suggest anything you like, but ive included a couple images as examples of styles i saw a lot. i especially saw a lot like on the left, with gathering or ruffles off to the side, but the front panel being pretty flat. this might be real fun for some designs like shirtdresses, but im not super confident on how itd look on me. either way, feel free to form a coalition in the replies to tell me how i totally should have offered you this one particular option.

(if you vote for this but dont comment, im discounting it from the overall stats as i have no idea what design you mean! your welcome to send it in on anon if that bothers you, but either way, ill need a description :P )

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[thatcoyperson]

Ok hear me out

AU where BDubs and Scar overthrow King Ren

[zerolostwalks]

"hold my hand" "absolutely not" "they'll think somethings wrong if you don't" *grabs hand and kisses cheek* / sweet tarts

“Do you need a job?” 

Reggie startled ever so slightly, trying his best to hide it by sitting up from the lounging position he was in while reading his book. Once up he found an aggravated Carrie standing in the doorway of the studio. 

“Are you talking to me?” He asked, looking around knowing full well he was the only one here. Everyone else had gotten pulled into various family holiday events. Even Luke and his mom had managed to reach a sort of compromise for the season. 

“Is there anyone else here?” She said again before releasing a long exhale disguised as a groan, “Anyway, did you need a job or not?”

“A job” He couldn’t help repeating the question, one of his eyebrows rising against his better judgment. 

“Ok, so it’s barely a job.” She said weight shifting as she adjusted her feet with her eye roll. Her gaze shifted away from him, examining the room around them, eyes lingering on the many photos Flynn and Julie had plastered across the wall. “I really just need someone to come with me when I go to my mom’s for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry what?” He really didn’t mean to blurt out the question as fast as he did. Still blinking away the shock of the words he was hearing. Couldn’t recall her ever mentioning her mom before, or anyone for that matter. Though if he had to judge based on the way Carrie’s face scrunched up and how she shifted her feet again she wasn’t very comfortable with the topic. 

“My mom’s been trying to reconnect and make up for lost time.” She said, voice bordering on her peppy show tone. 

“I don’t know.”

“It would be just for a week and she lives incredibly close to some decent skiing. So you could think of it more like a little winter vacation if you’d like.” Carrie said, her voice never straying far from that peppy ‘sales pitch’ tone which did not ease any unease he had at the idea. 

“What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.” She quickly said, disbelief written all over her face in the short seconds before managing to school her expression again. “Look, me and my family are even paying for everything. All you have to do is show up.”

He chewed over the idea, also chewing the inside of his bottom lip not really buying this perfect vacation she was trying to sell him on. There definitely had to be something she wasn’t telling him. Why him? Why not any of her other friends? 

On the other hand, it would be nice to have something to keep him out of his parents house that wouldn’t also have all his friends playing their usual ‘let’s help Reggie without him knowing it’ tactics. It might take them all a while to believe Carrie had randomly offered him what basically amounted to an all expenses paid ski trip out of nowhere. But weirder things had happened. 

“All right, when’s this trip?” He asked, trying not to be floored by Carrie’s unexpectedly bright, if short lived, smile. 

“We leave tomorrow.” She said digging her phone out of her purse and settling on the couch so close to him she‘d barely need to move to be in his lap. “Quick, give me your number so I can send you the details.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” He said fumbling for his phone, caught a little off guard by both her sudden proximity and the amount of shit he suddenly had to do before tomorrow. 

He barely registered everything she said about texting her his address to coordinate with her driver. Far too focused on mentally making his packing list, hoping he had enough clean clothes. Didn’t even question her when she suddenly pulled him in for a series of selfies, the first half dozen inadequate because he didn’t look happy enough. He doubted he ever looked happy enough, certain she just gave up, and resorted to using whatever filter for whatever app she was sure to be posting it to.

The next day didn’t fare much better for his nerves. Pleasantly surprised when she did in fact show up at his place several hours before the sun would even dare to be up so they could get to the airport on time. Too tired to enjoy the fact he got to sit in the slightly roomier business class, falling asleep before the even finished taking off. It was a rare direct flight too, so he wouldn’t get another chance until the flight home. 

Just as they passed security and into the throng of all the friends and family waiting, Carrie’s hand gripped his bicep tight pulling his attention to her as they walked. 

“Ok so, before we get too far there is something you need to know.” She said in a sort of half whisper, trying to not be overheard but still trying to be heard over the noise all around them. “I may have lied about there not being a catch.”

His heart clenched, he knew it was too good to be true, but more than that he felt more than a little betrayed. Did she seriously wait til he couldn’t escape to tell him what basically amounted to his side of the deal? He didn’t get the chance to call her out though, as soon a woman Reggie could describe as overly sparkly was rushing toward them with a big smile. 

“Carrie?” The woman said, throwing her arms around Carrie who had never looked so tense before.

“Aunt Debbie.” Carrie said through a forced grin, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“What nonsense.” Aunt Debbie said as she playfully slapped Carrie’s shoulder. “Of course we were going to pick you up, Richard’s keeping the car warm. Your mom would have come but she’s a little preoccupied.”

Aunt Debbie tried to do a little hand wave through the air, her vibrant nails looking more like talons than Reggie expected them to, clearly trying to dismiss or wave something away. The movement only seemed to make Carrie tense up more than she already was. Reggie didn’t get long to focus on that though as Aunt Debbie’s attention fell on him.

“Oh sorry, you must be..?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Aunt Debbie, this is Reggie.” Carrie said as Reggie extended his hand out to shake Debbie’s, all of the syllables he was going to use to greet her with however froze up in his throat as Carrie continued on. “My boyfriend I was telling you all about.”

“Ooooh well aren’t you handsome.” Debbie said, patting his, the sensation all he needed to know he wasn’t dreaming. “Well, we better hurry up before Rich gets too bored and does something foolish. Did you check anything?”

Debbie walked off after Carrie’s reassurances they only had carry-on’s. Reggie did not follow, forcing Carrie to double back for him, if she felt any guilt over the situation she had it hidden well under all the resigned exhaustion she wore.

“Your boyfriend?” 

“It’s only for the week.” 

“Carrie we’ve barely ever spoken to each other.” He said in lieu of saying how they could barely be called friends. 

“Please,” she said, surprising them both, though she recovered faster than he did. “Like I said it’s only for the week. We don’t even have to get all lovey-dovey with the pet names or overt PDA.”

“But why do they need to think I”m your boyfriend?”

Carrie quickly looked over her shoulder to where Aunt Debbie was impatiently looking like she was waiting patiently.  “I promise I’ll tell you later.”

He sighed, slowly resigning himself to the idea. His only other real options being telling everyone the truth and spending the next week uncomfortably awkward around strangers or trying to find some way to pay for a flight back home and leaving Carrie alone, by herself. “You owe me.”

She nodded as she painted on that winning showmanship smile of hers, “Of course, now hold my hand.”

“Absolutely not.” The words were out of his mouth faster than he intended, still too caught up in his own blindsided irritation. Her smile barely faltered, the slightest furrow of her brow.

“They’ll think somethings wrong if you don’t.”

He glanced toward Debbie who had definitely stopped trying to not look confused. He didn’t exactly trust his mouth at the moment, so he merely held out his hand towards Carrie. She grasped it in hers and pulled him down so she could quickly press a quick kiss to his cheek and whispering a quick “thank you” into his ear. 

He swallowed hard, an attempt to both unclog his throat of all the wrong words and to clear his head of the memory of her lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. This was going to be a more complicated week than if he had just stayed home.

[paigemathews]

ooh I would like to contribute to the pairing ask

And I'm going to give you a bunch to choose from because I can't decide and also that way you get to do the ones that you find the most fun without trying to do the ones you don't have ideas for (pick whichever you like and feel no pressure to do them all):

wyatt and the manticore baby (this can be gen or romantic, whichever you prefer)

chris and bianca in the past

piper with her niece/nephew (gen, dealers choice for which child)

patty and paige (gen)

victor and henry sr bonding as mortals in a magical family

elise with one of the charmed ones offspring as honorary aunt

more of the baby morrises all grown up however you would prefer

piper re-meeting bianca in the future (gen)

phoebe and andy (gen), preferably with time travel involved, bc we get told andy cares a lot about all the sisters and vice versa but we don't really get to see that as much with phoebe

a charmed one with their ex bf in an unexpected situation (gen, again dealers choice of who)

time travelling wyatt and chris (gen)

and prue and paige (gen) either in a world where its a different sister that dies or after they've both died and they're looking at the mess and drama of future generations and Judging

I went ahead and added this to the initial post bc I did not originally, but I think that one pairing per an ask will probably be easier bc if I do all of these, it will end up being so long that someone will murder me for ending up on their dash. That said, I am begging you on my knees to resubmit the others because I want to do literally all of them please please please

Pairing: Wyatt Halliwell ? Sebastian Johnston (half-manticore baby)

-----

Trudging through the empty cavern, Wyatt kept glancing over to Sebastian uncertainly. His expression was uncharacteristically steely, normal jovial mood absent. Prior to their run-in with the demon, Wyatt had been the same way, intent on finding his siblings and cousins. He still was focused on finding them, but felt his attention split as they walked between worry for them and replaying the demon's words.

"Poor demon," she cooed, dodging the potion Wyatt threw. Darting into Sebastian's face, she smiled maliciously as she said, "Blonde of hair, fair of face, never will-"

She slammed into the wall as Wyatt snarled wordlessly, trying to get to Sebastian's side as the half-manticore shook off the daze that her spell had left them with. Sebastian opened his mouth, eyes narrowed, but the demon beat them to it.

Throwing her head back to let her hair fall back, she grinned as she threw out both hands. Half a second too late, Wyatt was caught in the blast as she telekinetically threw everything in her past. He lost sight of Sebastian as the demon's workstation flipped and-

Oh, wow, the Underworld really had tall caverns actually. Wheezing for breath for a minute, Wyatt heard the demon start her little rhyme over again absently as he tried to convince his lungs to take in a breath. That was good, because she wouldn't recite her weird... prophecy? spell? whatever over a corpse. Probably. You never could tell with demons.

Also there was no way that Sebastian, who came right behind Chris and Penny as the most likely Warren kid to fight demons by themselves - despite not even being, y'know, a Warren - was killed by one telekinetic blast. Chris did worse, and didn't that thought send a pang of worry about his younger brother through his chest.

Or, actually, that might be that one of the potions on the demon's workspace was apparently acidic in nature, and Wyatt's hand was burning a little now. Fuck.

Bracing himself, Wyatt sucked in a breath and pushed the table back and sat up. The demon was on top of Sebastian, one hand cupping his face as she finished her rhyme, "-of the Charmed One's embrace. Unrequited love is such a pain, little demon, let me spare you of it."

"Get away from hIM," Wyatt roared, throwing hands out, magic distorting his voice in the last minute. At his shout, both Sebastian and the demon's heads snapped over to look at him. Sebastian's eyes went wide, and he bucked his hips enough to startle the demon. Just as the energy blast was about to engulf them, Sebastian shimmered away, unfortunately taking the demon with him. The blast slammed into the wall, destroying the entire shelf of potions lining it.

Wyatt felt more than heard Sebastian reappear, spinning on his heel just as Sebastian came into view. Sending the demon sprawling onto the ground, Sebastian rolled to one side, scrambling onto his feet as the demon rose with a screech.

"Wyatt!" Sebastian pointed at the remains of the demon's knife collection scattered on the ground opposite of them, and Wyatt didn't hesitate. As the demon raised her arms, Wyatt threw out his arm and the demon's destroyed armory went flying at her.

"Well, that seems like karma," Sebastian commented, breathless, as the two watched the demon burst into flames. Seeing as the entire debacle started when the demon sent her own armory at them, Wyatt couldn't help but agree.

Blonde of hair. Fair of face. Something about a Charmed One. Unrequited love. Years of looks between family members and gently teasing comments that Wyatt never quite got.

Sebastian had been one of Wyatt's best friends since he was a baby. Whenever Sebastian spent time with someone, they were almost always guaranteed a fun time that they needed. Beyond just genuine joy, Sebastian would always have his friends' backs. He was Chris and Penny's most consistent backup in a demon fight. He was the person that Melinda would call when she wanted a friend to party with or play video games against. He was the person that would go after Parker when she got a too desperate need to prove herself as a witch. Even if they hadn't been friends themselves, Sebastian's love and care for Wyatt's family would have more then earned Wyatt's love. Despite his heritage, Sebastian was a compassionate person who loved deeply, and he was one of Wyatt's best friends.

But as the pit continued forming in his stomach, Wyatt knew that he didn't love him as more than a friend.

There was no guarantee that the demon had been telling the truth. But Sebastian's expression had been painfully exposed.

Demons were cruel, and it would be so characteristic of a demon to throw that in Sebastian's face right in front of the person he loved.

The thought kept taunting Wyatt, and he knew he needed to resolve it somehow. They were still tracking his siblings and cousins, and whoever managed to subdue multiple Warrens was sure to be dangerous. Being distracted was dangerous, but Wyatt couldn't bring it up to Sebastian and risk hurting him right-

"Dude," Sebastian said, and Wyatt stopped his anxious tirade of thoughts as Sebastian snapped in front of his face.

Blinking, Wyatt looked between the fingers in front of his eyes to Sebastian's face. He was still tired, still worried, but there was a familiar look of bemusement in his eyes as he looked at Wyatt. One hand was on his bicep, a light grip keeping him still, as he dropped his other hand.

"You back with me?" Sebastian asked.

Wyatt nodded mutely.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You spaced out for like. Five whole minutes. None of those demon's potions did anything to you, right?"

Wyatt shook his head. Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, but Wyatt blurted out, "Blonde of hair, fair of face."

Sebastian's mouth snapped shut, as his gaze became unreadable. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence as Wyatt struggled to find words, Sebastian tilted his head and asked, "And? Is there a problem with that?"

His voice was guarded, but not hostile. Wyatt nearly tripped over his words as he frantically shook his head. "No! Just I don't know if-"

Sebastian's shoulders dropped an inch as his eyes softened. "Wyatt, I'm an adult. I don't need-"

"I'm sorry," Wyatt interrupted, guilt heavy in his stomach. He knew, logically at least, that he wasn't obligated to return feelings, but Wyatt never enjoyed hurting people, and to hurt one of his best friends was excruciating. "If I could, I would."

Wyatt winced at his words, because it wasn't as if Sebastian was unlovable, just that Wyatt didn't-

"No," Sebastian nearly snarled. Wyatt started, and Sebastian nearly looked as startled as Wyatt did. Still, he continued, "I don't need more than friendship, Wyatt. That's enough for me. As long as-"

You're happy, Wyatt mentally finished. Or you find someone. Some kind response that highlighted why Sebastian was great and why Wyatt felt awful.

"-she's happy and safe, I'll be okay."

Wait, what?

"But we need to get going to find them, because the longer we wait-" Sebastian was still talking as he turned to continue, but Wyatt was still stuck on the "she" part.

Had the demon actually... specified Wyatt? Thinking back, there was no actual guarantee that it had been Wyatt the demon was talking about. Blonde of hair, fair of face, and something about a Charmed One? Yes, that was Wyatt. It was also Melinda and Peyton. And sometimes Penny, but seeing as she was a lesbian and Sebastian knew that, Wyatt thought it safe to assume that Sebastian would have had plenty of time to get over it if it had been Penny.

Oh, boy.

Face burning, Wyatt interrupted, "She?"

Sebastian turned back around, voice fading as he took in whatever expression Wyatt had. They were both silent for a minute before Sebastian's lips quirked up. He couldn't control the grin as he asked, laughter in his voice, "Wyatt, did you think-"

"Blonde of hair, fair of face!" Wyatt protested immediately, feeling just a little stupid.

Sebastian outright began laughing as he finished, "Never will feel the daughter of a Charmed One embrace. Unless you have something to tell me, which I completely support-"

Wyatt pushed past Sebastian as he kept laughing, face burning but heart lighter than it was.

As he continued on his path, Wyatt heard Sebastian fall in step just behind him, still laughing. They still had demons to vanquish and family to save, but at least he wasn't responsible for breaking one of his best friend's heart.

Wait. Did that mean Sebastian liked his sister?

[mariyekos]

Motivated by this post (image below), I decided to start writing a fic based on some of my tags for this and sure it's not ready to share fully and won't be done for a few more days at the very least, but I want to share so. Share it is! Under the cut. In image form so I don't hit any of tumblr's search functionality by picking up words in it.

[sweetxsymphony]

Backstory: A world without music.

This is going to be long so it's going under a read more! Like, seriously, this is fucking the most text I've written in a post on this site in my life. This shit's a damn super essay in one go and will be basically spoiling the anime Takt Op. Destiny but I wanna make sure people understand the concept and stuff, y'know? anyway, if you read all of this? well, shit, that's impressive and thank you! this took me nearly an hour and a half to write up. Anyway, consider this important reading.

Many years ago, black meteorites fell from space and crash landed on Earth carrying with them something deadly, something hell bent on destruction. These beings were named "Despair Dolls", or "D2s", due to the fact that wherever they appeared only death and despair followed in their wake.

There was one oddity about these beings and it was their absolute hatred towards music of any kind. No one knows for sure why they seem to have such a passionate hatred for it but it's such an intense hatred that any form of music can attract a D2 like a moth to a flame and they will stop at nothing to eradicate the source of the music and anything else close by.

This has led to a global wide ban of all forms of music. No one can play music in any form as it will just attract a wave of death.

For the longest time humanity seemed to be slowly losing more and more ground to these monsters until one day the Symphonica International Organization was established. An organization that has dedicated itself to protecting the human race and fighting back against the D2's with the goal of wiping them out for good and restoring peace to the world and allowing music to once again be played and enjoyed by all.

Many people were sceptical on just how this organization was supposed to achieve this as all conventional weaponry was completely ineffective against D2s but the Symphonica had an ace up their sleeves.

Musicarts

No one knows how these beings came into existence, how they attained their powers or how these powers were even created in the first place. For, you see, Musicarts are individuals who have harnessed the very essence of the worlds most classical music and turned it into a weapon which can kill a D2.

These individuals, seemingly exclusively women, are able to transform into a new form that allows them to harness the score they have bonded with and use it to fight back. They do not age, can heal extremely quickly, and are super-human in nature now. The drawback is that once one becomes a Musicart they lose all memories of their prior life before becoming one and are only at their strongest once they have formed a contract with a Symphonica Maestro.

The only thing people know about Musicarts is that they recieve their power and score from a Harmonia Crystal. Once this crystal has awakened it turns into an pendant in the shape of an F-hole (a sound hole on various musical instruments which comes in diffirent sizes and forms.) This then becomes the source of a Musicarts power and should it be destroyed the Musicart would die.

There are only two ways in which a Musicart can die and that is if either they sustain mortal or enough wounds to kill them or their pendants are destroyed. The wounds needed to bring one down need to be incredibly severe and fatal as they can heal from near fatal wounds in a matter of hours.

Maestro's bring the Musicarts incredible power to even greater heights, especially when they have made a contract with a Musicart to become their official Maestro. The Symphonica has been slowly fighting back against the D2s with these rare and mysterious Musicarts putting both races in a deep war.

The Schneider family fled their home in France and made their way to America which housed one of the Symphonica's most renowned head quarters due to it being ran by one of the most successful conductors and becoming a general bastion for the rest of the organization and who they turned to for help and advice.

Once in America the Schneider's met the Asahina family where Cosette and her older sister Anna became good friends with Takt Asahina an aspiring pianist who was forced to stop chasing his dream due to the nature of the current world.

For a while things were, relatively, peaceful but that was until a concert performed by Takt's Father in what most thought was a soundproof concert hall was interrupted when a D2 attacked hearing the music despite the soundproofing efforts which resulted in his Father's death. This put Takt into a deep depression and he became a shut in but thankfully Cosette and her older sister Anna helped keep an eye on him whilst their eldest sister, Charlotte, began to work for the New York Symphonica branch.

For a while, Cosette tried to rouse Takt from his depression with little to no success until she managed to convince him to play his music he had wrote with her at the upcoming Symphonica festival, a festival held once a year by the Symphonica to allow people to play music. It is heavily policed by various Musicarts and is usually a success but things don't always go to plan.

Once Cosette and Takt had finished their piano duet together a D2 managed to break through the Symphonica's line and attacked. In the resulting Chaos many lost their lives, including Cosette. As she lay dying in her friends arms the pendant around her neck began to react and glow.

As it turns out, this pendant was actually a Harmonia Crystal and contained the very essence of Destiny who harnessed the musical score of Beethoven's Symphony No 5 in C minor Op 67.

This resulted in Cosette becoming the Musicart "Destiny." and like most other Musicarts her memories as her time as Cosette were lost but due to the nature of her creation she was different than most other Musicarts. Despite her ladylike appearance, her facial expressions rarely change and her tone of voice is always calm and polite and almost robotic at times. At first glance, she looks pretty, but she has an unconventional personality, with a sharp tongue and a sweet tooth which are remnants of her former personality.

Upon her awakening the two agreed to form a contract together and would then set out for the New York Symphonica. However, due to the nature of her creation, how she was born from a person who was dying when normally they are born from healthy people, there is something wrong about her power compared to most Musicarts.

Takt and Destiny's relationship as a Conductor and Musicart is symbiotic -- Takt becomes a little more superhuman and Destiny, who is attuned to the D2s, defeats the monsters. The downside is is that Destiny has to use some of Takt's life force to fight, which corrodes his body.

Essentially, she is killing him slowly.

They hope that when they make it to the Headquarters something can be done to help stabilise Destiny and Takt's condition so he can use her without risk of death.

However, as they travel and fight D2s his condition begins to worsen more and more and things do not help matters when it turns out the Symphonica may be hiding secrets that might not paint them as the saviours they seemed to be. A certain Musicart, Hell, seemingly has the ability to attract D2s and things become heated quickly when some Musicarts turn rogue pushing Takt and Destiny further which only leads to Takt's impending doom.

Once the dust settled, in order to save Takt, Destiny sacrifices herself in order to save him and restore his strength resulting in her "death" and leaving behind her pendant which eventually went to her sister who became the new Destiny.

Here's where we get divergent.

First of all, thank you for reading through that absolute slog (ya boi had to summarise a whole show that existed to hype up a mobile gacha game lmao)

Anyway, after the finale of the show Cosette and her version of Destiny are gone, kind of? it's weird. But, all that happened at the end of the show as that Cosette just disappeared. So, with that in mind, and in order to make interactions with other muses from different shows more easily possible without needing to craft verses, I'm making it so that moment wasn't her dying.

No, it's just a sort of displacement, an isekai basically lmao, the music and score is not done with this particular version of Destiny but her world does not need, nor can it have, two of them so she is shipped off to wherever your muses are from probably lol! She does get to keep her powers but they are more refined and making her more of a normal Musicart in a way and toning her power down a little.

It's dumb but it's something that makes things easier for me to keep her going post anime and have her deal with all of that whilst adjusting to new stuff.

[seresinhangmanjake]

I love all your Feyd works! Thank you.

My request is regrding a sensitive topic. So if it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free not to write it.

Reader has arranged marriage with Feyd. After a few years they all discover (including her) that she has fertility issues and has trouble getting pregnant so the Baron wants them to divorce. Wife is becoming hopeless. But Feyd who’s utterly in love and devoted to his wife will not have it and pledges loyalty to her.

Worth To Him

Notes/Warnings: obviously this is about fertility problems. It is a sensitive topic. If this bothers you, please do not read. Mention of period sex.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Sobs wrack your body. One after another after another that keeps your breaths shallow and ragged. Tears coat your lashes, weighing them down. You gave up trying to see clearly through them an hour ago and let yourself get lost in the haze of blindness.

You can’t stop it. You haven’t been able to stop for days. You clutched your pillow like a lifeline, crying into the plush material in a way you haven’t since you were a child. You’ve really proven yourself useless now. You officially have nothing to offer this planet, and the Baron has made that well-known. But what else can you expect when you are incapable of doing the things that are expected of you? How can you expect not to lose the one thing you care about if you cannot give him what he needs?

“If you cannot provide him an heir, you are worth nothing” is what the Baron declared in front of all that exists of his court.

Nothing—the word bounced around the walls of your skull before it finally sank in. You’ve never been nothing until now. You’ve always held some sort of value in some manner or other, even if that manner is in being a political pawn. But no. Here, now, you’re nothing to these people.

At first, you pleaded with him, nearly fell to your hands and knees and told him you’d only been trying for a few months. A few months barely qualifies as adequate time. On your home planet, medical intervention is not discussed until the couple has gone a year with no success. But you’re not on your home planet; there is no medical intervention, and all the Baron said in response was: A few months is too long. You will divorce in a week's time.

Feyd doesn’t know. For the last five days, he’s been on Arrakis, and it was on the third day of his absence that you once again woke to stained sheets. He’ll be disappointed in you, just like the Baron, just like the people of Giedi Prime, just like your parents who agreed to marry you to Feyd for the sake of an alliance that will soon be broken. 

When he returns, they’ll tell him, and he’ll nod with acceptance because that is what he does under order, and you’ll be shipped off. You’ll never see him again. He’ll remarry. He’ll become a father to a child by a woman who is not you. He’ll raise what the people want. He’ll do them proud.

You wonder if he’ll miss you as you will miss him. Will he ever think of you and wish you were in her place? Will he look at the children she’s borne him and wonder what your children would have looked like had you the chance to have them? Will he see their hair and imagine your locks flowing down to their little shoulders? If he peers into their eyes, will he prefer them a shade to match yours instead of hers? You wonder if he’ll be filled with sorrow at what could have been. 

Selfish to think it. There’s no reason to assume he will not enjoy the pleasure his new wife will offer. Neither are you fair in hoping that when he’s inside of her, making the children the Baron demands, he will be thinking of you. 

You cry harder. Your pillow will take ages to dry. Perhaps you’ll move on to his. Soak in the scent of him before you’re ripped away from him and returned to what will be considered by many the end of your life. No other Lord, or future Lord, will take you, not after being owned by a Harkonnen—tainted meat, as they say. You’ll be a burden on your family, an embarrassment to your House’s people, a waste of valuable blood. 

—

Touch stirs you: a soft brush of fingertips over your tear-stained cheek, a thumb grazing over your parted mouth. 

Then a voice. “Wake up.” Your groan of resistance is cut short by a press of lips against yours. A quick peck and then another. “Wake up,” it says, and then one more kiss, much longer this time, that you return before bothering to open your eyes. Your arms wrap around a familiar neck. A tongue gently glides along yours. And then it’s gone. Stolen from you. You want it back. 

Your eyes snap open. At the sight of him sitting beside you, you gasp, quickly scrambling onto his lap. He holds you without question or word. He holds you close to him. You hold him like you never will again. 

Leaning into his body, you push him down onto the mattress and he lands on his back with a chuckle. Your legs straddle his hips, your weight resting comfortably on top of his, and with his hand in your hair, he pulls you back into a kiss. Gentle at first, a caress, then harder, needier, greedier. He could bruise you if he wanted, leave his mark, and you invite him to. Something to take back home with you—a bruising kiss. You hope it hurts. You hope you internally bleed and purple blooms around your mouth. You hope it never fades and you wear the reminder of him for the rest of your life.

His lips part. His tongue is back in your mouth, asking for yours. You savor the slick warmth, knowing you’ll never again be kissed like this. To be honest, you never thought you would be kissed like this at all. You didn’t know kisses like this existed. If someone had told you a year ago that this man would be kissing you this way, with a passion you wouldn’t have dreamed him capable of releasing, you’d have laughed them out of the room. 

He unlocks your mouths for a breath and gifts you a smile. Rare. Almost out of place on his face. The first one you received was five months into your marriage, and you’ve never gotten used to them. 

“I missed you,” he says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

You want to tell him how you’ve missed him, how painful it’s been without him by your side, but you don’t know that you can speak the words, not without every emotion you’ve felt over the last few days bubbling to the surface and overpowering your joy at seeing him—the last time you’ll greet him upon his return before you’re gone. 

He frowns. “You didn’t miss me?” he asks, and since you can’t deny him a damn thing, you gather the will to say: “Of course I did,” but your throat catches midway through. You can’t look at him. He allows it for a few seconds, giving you a chance to meet his stare on your own, but when you don’t, his fingers on your chin turn your face back to his so you can no longer avoid the prying blue shade of his irises. 

“What is it?” he says.

“I know he told you.” There’s a brief pause before your husband hums in acknowledgment. Fingertips trace up and down your spine over the thin material of your nightgown. “The doctor was ordered to examine me after I bled. He’s not sure I’m able to give you a baby. And the Baron–”

“My uncle does not make my decisions for me,” he declares, and you’re so stunned by the defiance that it takes you a moment to collect yourself. 

“Feyd, do you not understand? I don’t know if I can do it,” you tell him. “My body is–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine. You will never belong to another man, nor will I belong to another woman.” 

“Neither of us has a choice.”

“You believe so?”

Your brow pinches, mouth setting in a line. If he’s playing a game, you’re not enjoying it. “As if you aren’t aware of who has the power here.”

“I am aware,” he says. “But Rabban is dead. I’m all that’s left of our line. If he wants his heir, then I’m keeping my wife.”

He speaks with such certainty that the charge of excitement you get whenever you watch him take command of his armies seeps into you, giddily wiggling all of your little nerve endings. But the feeling fades as fast as it came. It changes nothing. Whether or not he defies his uncle does not alter your circumstances. 

You sigh. “But what of your heir?”

“We’ll keep trying,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. I'm too attached. He doesn’t get to marry me to a woman like you and then take you away.”

“A woman like me, who might not be able to give you what you need,” you say. “Why aren’t you bothered?”

“Having my heir is not where your worth lies to me. If we cannot have a baby, we will take someone else's,” he tells you without snicker or grin. His fingers fist into the material of your nightgown. “Now take this off. I want my wife.”

“I am still bleeding.”

He scoffs. “When have I ever cared?”

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hi lovely! Here’s my ask: Bucky and reader have been pinning for each other nonchalantly for a while but reader says something that causes Bucky to throw them over his shoulder and threatens to tickle the shit out of them (and then does it after seeing how flustered they are). Feelings get confessed, weaknesses are exposed, it’s a whole plate of fluff. 🥰😘

hell. why not? This prompt is so fun - thanks, anon! hope you enjoy x

Predictable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: ~1500

Content / warnings: swearing, kissing, tickle fic

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

The hallway was quiet except for the sharp click of your boots and the heavy, measured steps of Bucky Barnes beside you. The mission briefing had ended, the others scattering to their own quarters, leaving you and him walking under the hum of fluorescent lights.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” you said, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Bored? Lost in thought? Don’t tell me you’re planning another dramatic brooding session. Maybe in front of a window, rain streaking down the glass?”

Bucky looked at you, one brow quirked, his lips curling faintly at the corner. “You done?”

“I gotta say, you’re really sticking to the dark soldier aesthetic,” you quipped, hands shoved in your pockets. “It’s impressive. Very consistent.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. “Consistent, huh? That your way of saying I’m boring?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say boring.” You turned to him, letting your grin curl just sharp enough to bait him. “More… predictable.”

He stopped walking, his head tilting just slightly, and the gleam in his eye made something in your chest tighten.

“Predictable?” he repeated, his tone soft, like he was rolling the word around to test it.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the grin threatening to spread. “It’s not a bad thing, Bucky. You’re… reliable. Steady. I can set my watch by your moods - glare, brood, occasional grunt of disapproval. It’s comforting, really.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the silence and tension stretching between you.

“What?” you asked, try to hold back a smirk. “Did I hit a nerve?”

His gaze sharpened on yours, glinting with something dark and teasing that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “You really think I’m predictable?”

The air between you crackled with tension, each word a spark igniting the unspoken feelings lurking beneath the surface. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected you.

“I’m just saying-”

Before you could finish, he moved. Quick as a snap, his hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him. You stumbled, nearly cursing, before he bent low, braced his shoulder into your middle, and straightened, hoisting you up and over.

“Bucky!” Your voice came out an octave higher than usual, your palms pressing against his broad back as you flailed. “Put me down!” you hissed, your fists pounding helplessly at his shoulders as the world spun upside down.

He ignored you, his laughter low and dangerous as it rumbled through his chest. “Still think I’m predictable?”

“Yes! You’re-” Your voice caught, your brain short-circuiting when his palm splayed against the back of your thigh to keep you steady. The touch was firm, effortless, and it did unforgivable things to your ability to form coherent words. “Y-you’re shooting the messenger. This is completely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary?” he echoed, his tone laced with a sinister amusement. “You sure about that? Because I think this is overdue.”

Your stomach flipped at the shift in his voice - low and teasing, laced with a playful edge you’d never heard before.

He turned a corner abruptly and nudged open a door with his boot, stepping into a small, dimly lit storage room.

“Wait, what- what are you doing?” you demanded, kicking your legs uselessly. “Bucky, I swear- ”

“I’d save your breath if I were you,” he said darkly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your mind lurched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A slow, devilish chuckle rolled through him. “It means, smartass, that I’m about to tickle the shit outta you.”

Your brain flatlined.

You froze. Completely froze. For the first time, your mouth opened - but nothing came out. Heat flared across your entire body, and Bucky’s amused hum was like a spark to gasoline.

“Oh,” he hummed, patting your thigh like some cruel punctuation to your embarrassment, “that got your attention.”

“Shut up!” you finally spluttered, mortified, because now he knew. Now he knew, and you’d just handed him a weapon far more dangerous than any gun or blade.

His laughter was low, dark, and - gods help you - so unfairly attractive that it only made things worse. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your squirming renewed tenfold, panic spiking through you as you tried to push yourself up off his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Bucky Barnes! I swear-”

He unceremoniously let you drop back onto your feet, your balance faltering as you collided with his chest, still breathless. You shoved at him instinctively, trying to regain your footing, but he was already advancing, backing you toward the nearest wall.

Your face was on fire now, your usual sharp wit nowhere to be found. You’d never seen him like this - playful, teasing, free - and it was completely throwing you off.

You stammered, breath catching as your back hit the wall. “B-Bucky- no! Don’t-”

“You're really worked up about this,” he interrupted, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The shadows softened the hard lines of his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something else.

He leaned in slightly, caging you in with his hands braced against the wall beside your head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” you hissed, even as you felt your face go hotter.

The smirk grew. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

"Predict this, sweetheart."

Before you could blink, his hands darted to your hips, fingers digging in with deliberate precision. Your reaction was immediate - a gasp, a choked laugh you couldn’t swallow back in time.

“No!” you shrieked, laughter already bubbling out of you as you squirmed violently. “I take it back, okay?! I take it back!”

“Too late,” Bucky replied, grinning like the devil himself as his hands squeezed your sides again. “Now I’m invested.”

"B-Bucky! Cut it out!"

“Cut it out?” he repeated, his tone mock-innocent as his fingers dugs across your ribs. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“Shut up!” you managed between gasping laughs, your cheeks burning with humiliation and something dangerously close to exhilaration.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted, his voice dark and edged with amusement. “When you called me predictable? Did you want me to prove you wrong?”

Your response was lost in another fit of helpless laughter as his hands found a particularly sensitive spot just under your ribs. You twisted against him, but his grip was unrelenting, his body solid against you.

You let out a strangled laugh, pressing back against the wall as your knees started to give. “You’re- you’re cool! And- and spontaneous and - Bucky - fuck! You’re hot and mysterious and-”

He paused for a second, his grin sharpening as he processed your accidental confession. “Hot, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug.

Your face burned like the sun. “I didn’t mean- fuck, just forget I said-”

“Oh, no,” he said, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I think we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“Buck, I didn't-”

“Nope,” he interrupted, his fingers digging into your sides again, drawing another breathless shriek from you. “We’re not done yet.”

Your laughter filled the room, wild and unguarded, as you tried in vain to squirm away. He zeroed in on your lowest ribs, his fingers hitting angles that sent you reeling. You tried to hold on the desperate peal of laughter, but it echoed through the storage room as your knees weakened further.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your voice breaking as you gripped at his jacket to try and keep yourself upright, another shriek bursting through your lips when his fingers pressed into another susceptible spot. "Please! I can't breathe- BUCKY!"

His grin softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something quieter, something genuine. He caught your chin gently with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Hot, huh?” he repeated, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

The word hung in the air, a moment of suspended silence between frantic laughter and tension thick enough to choke on. You froze, still panting, your face burning with horror.

Bucky stilled too, his gaze locking onto yours. Then, slowly, his grin returned - this time sharper, hungrier.

His lips were on yours before you could think, a sudden, fiery kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

You melted immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he pressed you further into the wall, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head back, the other gripping your hip. The heat of it was overwhelming, his lips firm and insistent. It was messy, unpracticed, and searingly real.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, still panting, cheeks aflame. His thumb brushed your temple, sending a shiver up your spine, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as his lips grazed yours.

“Did you see that coming, too?”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned against his lips. “Yeah. From a mile away.”

Before he had the chance to retaliate, you kissed him again.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑶𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid x reader

Words: 1500+

Warnings: vague body image issues.

Summary: You take a trip to the beach with your girlfriends.

The beach trip was supposed to be fun, a spontaneous idea that Mapi had brought up the night before, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She and Ingrid had finished a particularly grueling training session that day, and the idea of lounging by the ocean, sun warming their skin, and waves crashing against the shore had sounded like the perfect remedy for sore muscles and tired minds. They'd both looked at you with hopeful eyes, and you'd agreed, swept up by their enthusiasm.

The morning of, however, the reality of it hit you.

Standing in front of the mirror in the small changing room near the beach, you tugged nervously at your bikini, eyeing the reflection that stared back. The swimsuit fit fine; it was actually really flattering. But that wasn't the issue. The issue was that it left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that even intimacy with Ingrid and Mapi hadn't made you feel. Despite being with them for nearly six months, despite the countless nights you'd spent tangled together in bed, their bodies pressed against yours, this felt... different.

There was a safety in the dim lighting of your bedroom, the privacy of closed doors. Here, though, out in the open, with the sunlight harsh and unforgiving, every insecurity you'd ever had seemed to bubble up to the surface. Your eyes trailed over your body, taking in every curve and line. You weren't big, not by any stretch of the imagination. But standing here, knowing you'd soon be beside Ingrid and Mapi — two professional athletes with lean, toned bodies honed from years of training — you couldn't help but feel... inadequate.

Ingrid, with her tall frame and thick, dark hair cascading down her back, was effortlessly graceful and strong. Her Norwegian features were softened by her warm smile, the one she gave you that made you feel like the most special person in the world. She was lean but muscular in a way that was understated yet powerful. And Mapi... Mapi was pure energy, her body compact and defined. Her natural brown hair mixed with blonde from the last time she'd bleached it, and her easy, playful confidence made her feel untouchable in your eyes.

They were waiting for you outside, both probably already sprawled out on the sand, soaking up the sun. You wrapped a towel around yourself tightly, feeling like you needed a barrier between yourself and the world. It wasn't just the swimsuit. The beach itself was unnerving. The vastness of the ocean, with its dark depths and unknown creatures lurking beneath, had always terrified you. You couldn't swim, and the thought of going into that endless water made your stomach twist with anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the changing room, hoping that neither of them would notice the way you clung to the towel. The sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the beach, and the sound of waves crashing was both calming and intimidating. You spotted them immediately. Ingrid was lying on a beach towel, her sunglasses perched on her nose, looking effortlessly serene. Mapi, on the other hand, was already in the water up to her knees, waving at you excitedly.

"¡Amor!" she called, grinning widely, her English slightly stilted but endearing. "Come in! It's perfect!"

You forced a smile, lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave. Ingrid looked over, sensing your hesitation even from a distance. She raised her sunglasses, her warm eyes narrowing in concern as she took in your expression and the towel wrapped around you like armor.

As you reached their spot on the sand, Ingrid sat up, patting the space beside her. "Hey, love," she said gently, her Norwegian accent wrapping around the words. "Are you okay?"

Mapi, catching on to Ingrid's tone, made her way out of the water and jogged over, sand sticking to her legs as she approached. She tilted her head, eyeing you with that same concern, her brows furrowed slightly.

"I'm fine," you said, trying to brush it off. "Just... not really a beach person, I guess."

Mapi chuckled, oblivious to the undertone of your words. "Not a beach person?" she teased, nudging you lightly. "Who doesn't like the beach?" She reached for your towel playfully, her fingers grasping the edge. "Come on, let me see you."

You instinctively tightened your grip on the towel, pulling it closer. "I... I'm fine like this," you mumbled, looking away, hoping they wouldn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Ingrid's hand found yours, her touch grounding you as her thumb brushed softly over your knuckles. "You know," she began softly, her voice low and soothing, "you don't have to hide from us."

Mapi's playful demeanor softened, and she exchanged a quick look with Ingrid, understanding passing between them in a way that needed no words. She crouched down beside you, her gaze warm and steady. "We've seen all of you before, hermosa. We love all of you."

You bit your lip, looking down at the sand. "I know, it's just... out here, it feels different. I don't know." You hesitated, glancing up at the ocean in the distance. "And... I can't swim, so I don't really want to go in the water."

Mapi's eyes softened, and she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Why didn't you say so, amor? We wouldn't have dragged you here if we knew."

Ingrid squeezed your hand gently. "We'll stay right here on the sand if that's what you want," she said, her gaze earnest. "We don't need the water to enjoy being with you.”

Something in her words loosened the tightness in your chest. You took a deep breath, glancing between the two of them, the warmth in their eyes melting away some of your insecurities.

"Maybe... maybe I'll try sitting on the edge," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Ingrid's face lit up with a soft, encouraging smile. "Whatever you want, love. We'll be right there with you."

They each took one of your hands, guiding you toward the shoreline at a leisurely pace. The sound of the waves grew louder, and the salty breeze brushed against your skin as you neared the water. When you reached the edge, Ingrid and Mapi sat down beside you, their hands still holding yours.

Ingrid looked at you, her eyes gentle. "If you're uncomfortable, just let us know. We're here for you."

You nodded, feeling a bit braver with their hands anchoring you. You let your feet stretch out toward the water, watching as the waves gently lapped at your toes. It was... surprisingly soothing, and you found yourself relaxing a little.

Mapi, never one to stay quiet for long, leaned over with a playful grin. "See? Not so scary, right?" she teased, though her tone was gentle, supportive rather than mocking.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Maybe not as scary as I thought," you admitted.

They both smiled, and you felt yourself easing into the moment, letting go of the tension you'd been holding onto since you'd arrived at the beach. You glanced over at them, their bodies relaxed and carefree, and for the first time, you didn't feel the urge to compare. They were beautiful, yes, but they were also so much more — supportive, patient, understanding.

After a few moments, Mapi gave your hand a light squeeze. "Let's take it slow," she said, her gaze kind but teasing. "I'll hold onto you if you get scared."

You laughed, the sound surprising you. "I think I'll be okay."

Ingrid smiled, her thumb tracing soothing patterns on your hand. "We'll take it one step at a time. And remember, you don't have to prove anything to us. We love you just as you are."

The words settled into your heart, and for the first time, you felt yourself believing them. You let the towel slip from your shoulders, feeling the sun's warmth on your skin, and both of them grinned as if they'd just witnessed a small victory.

For the rest of the day, you stayed close to the shore, letting the gentle waves brush over your feet as you laughed and talked with them. They never left your side, always checking in, always making sure you felt safe and comfortable. You even let Mapi coax you a little further into the water, her hands on your waist as she steadied you, her grin infectious as she cheered you on.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you felt lighter, the insecurities that had weighed you down at the beginning of the day now distant memories.

As you all sat together, watching the sunset, Mapi leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "I told you, didn't I?" she murmured, her voice a gentle tease. "Nothing to be scared of."

Ingrid wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as she pressed a kiss to your temple. "You're perfect just like this," she whispered, her accent thick with affection.

And in that moment, wrapped in their warmth and love, you believed them. You didn't need to be anything more than who you were, because to them, you were already enough.

**

Tags: @marysfics @ceesimz @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @silentwolfsstuff

[godhandler]

tired manager!Nanami x kpop idol!reader

He’s sick, absolutely sick of you. In all his underpaid overworked years as an idol manager, he’s never seen one as impossible as you. 

You’re the centre, lead singer, and the most popular member of your girl group ‘R0ck-Chic’. The princess of K-Pop. Ranked Top10 on Billboard and Melon, brand ambassador for Chanel. Photocards for $1500 retail. Face straight out of a manhwa, bubblegum-sweetheart personality, born a musical genius too!

But that’s just on camera.  

“Prissy bitch.”

Nanami keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s doubling as a bodyguard-cum-manager for your M-Net Music Show, watching you yell at your hairstylist backstage. She accidentally burned a piece of your hair extensions off, but hey, it was a fucking accident! The poor lady is nearly in tears at your cruel words. No one really likes working with you, not your staff, not the other members of your group, because underneath the Estée Lauder Double Wear foundation is a secret none of your massive fanbase knows: You’re a cunt. 

“Nanami-san!” At least you’re still calling him with honorifics, even though he’s cringing thinking about what harsh command your majesty shall bark at him. “God, Nanami-san, where the fuck are you? When’s our show going to begin? Can’t get on stage in time, can’t get my makeup done on time-” You cast an evil look at the makeup-artist, who promptly bursts into tears too. “- I’m surrounded by useless trashcans!”

Miwa, the leader of R0ck-Chic, hesitantly tries to calm you down. “Ah, yn, it’s ok, they’re setting up the stage right now so–”

“– I believe it’s prudent to look at the other groups’ rehearsals and analyse the competition, miss.” Nanami steps in. He really hates his job, having to babysit the most spoilt celeb on the planet. When he speaks, he means it to everyone around you. “Let’s all use this time to the fullest, yes?” 

(Later on he’d go and apologise to the people you brought to tears. Not that he’s under any obligation to do so, he’s simply a gentleman like that. And maybe he cares about your reputation.)

You grumble, taking the ice-chips that Nanami offers you. It’s hard to be angry with diet-abiding ice-chips in your mouth. “Don’t need to ‘analyse’ any stupid competition. R0ck-Chic has me, and I’m the best.” 

The fucking audacity, Nanami cringes. And she’s not even wrong. That’s the worst part. 

You kill it on stage that night. Broadcasted live, the TV ratings spike immediately when you come on screen, bootleg solo fancams flooding Twitter and your ending fairy goes viral. The photocard prices jump up to $2000. 

There’ll be stalkers tonight following the car. I’ll have to drive through the offside path. Nanami took all the security measures that any manager worth their salt would.

Only he didn’t account for how crazy your stalkers would get tonight in particular. Even the offside has large unmarked SUVs, waiting to trail your car to a standstill. Sasaengs.

You’re in your sweatpants, performance makeup off, texting away inside the car that Nanami is driving right now, clearly no idea of how much danger you’re in. A fan would simply take your autograph and leave happily. Sasaengs, especially ones of this calibre, would stab you. At least she’s not screaming. Yet. 

He’s very correct. Because the moment that he tells you that you’ll have to stay in the dance studio tonight (can’t risk leaking the group dorm location to the stalkers), screaming is exactly what you do. 

“You promised I’d go home!” You stamp your feet on the ground, chuck your phone at him, throwing a proper fit. “I’m sick of you stupid fuckers ruining everything! Everyone is dogshit here!” The regular migraine that comes after dinner-time drives nails into Nanani’s temple. “Nanami-san, you dumb fucking gasbag! I’m tired! I-WANT-TO-GO-HOME!”

“SO-DO-I!”

Both you and Nanami are shocked silent. No one has ever talked back to you since you became famous, and you became famous at the age of 5. It’s weird. It’s interesting. 

Poor Nanami-san now has to deal with all the drama you cause as well as this new problem: you might be growing a teeny weeny crush on him.  

Bonus: you have to buy a new phone. stop throwing phones. 

masterlist

a/n: I have insomnia and a bad cold. no one has suffered like me.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Master Fiction Plot

Lester Dent's "Master Fiction Plot", often referred to as the "Lester Dent Formula" is a widely circulated guide to writing a saleable 6,000-word pulp story.

This is a formula, a master plot, for any 6000-word pulp story.

It has worked on adventure, detective, western and war-air. It tells exactly where to put everything.

It shows definitely just what must happen in each successive thousand words.

The business of building stories seems not much different from the business of building anything else.

Here's how it starts:

A DIFFERENT MURDER METHOD FOR VILLAIN TO USE

A DIFFERENT THING FOR VILLAIN TO BE SEEKING

A DIFFERENT LOCALE

A MENACE WHICH IS TO HANG LIKE A CLOUD OVER HERO

One of these DIFFERENT things would be nice, two better, three swell. It may help if they are fully in mind before tackling the rest.

A different murder method could be--different.

Thinking of shooting, knifing, hydrocyanic, garroting, poison needles, scorpions, a few others, and writing them on paper gets them where they may suggest something.

Scorpions and their poison bite?

Maybe mosquitos or flies treated with deadly germs?

If the victims are killed by ordinary methods, but found under strange and identical circumstances each time, it might serve, the reader of course not knowing until the end, that the method of murder is ordinary.

Scribes who have their villain's victims found with butterflies, spiders or bats stamped on them could conceivably be flirting with this gag.

Probably it won't do a lot of good to be too odd, fanciful or grotesque with murder methods.

The different thing for the villain to be after might be something other than jewels, the stolen bank loot, the pearls, or some other old ones.

Here, again one might get too bizarre.

Unique locale? Easy.

Selecting one that fits in with the murder method and the treasure--thing that villain wants--makes it simpler, and it's also nice to use a familiar one, a place where you've lived or worked.

So many pulpateers don't. It sometimes saves embarrassment to know nearly as much about the locale as the editor, or enough to fool him.

Here's a nifty much used in faking local color.

For a story laid in Egypt, say, author finds a book titled "Conversational Egyptian Easily Learned," or something like that. 

He wants a character to ask in Egyptian, "What's the matter?"

He looks in the book and finds, "El khabar, eyh?"

To keep the reader from getting dizzy, it's perhaps wise to make it clear in some fashion, just what that means.

Occasionally the text will tell this, or someone can repeat it in English.

But it's a doubtful move to stop and tell the reader in so many words the English translation.

The writer learns they have palm trees in Egypt.

He looks in the book, finds the Egyptian for palm trees, and uses that.

This kids editors and readers into thinking he knows something about Egypt.

Here's the second installment of the master plot.

Divide the 6000 word yarn into four 1500 word parts. In each 1500 word part, put the following:

FIRST 1500 WORDS

First line, or as near thereto as possible, introduce the hero and swat him with a fistful of trouble. Hint at a mystery, a menace or a problem to be solved--something the hero has to cope with.

The hero pitches in to cope with his fistful of trouble. (He tries to fathom the mystery, defeat the menace, or solve the problem.)

Introduce ALL the other characters as soon as possible. Bring them on in action.

Hero's endevours land him in an actual physical conflict near the end of the first 1500 words.

Near the end of first 1500 words, there is a complete surprise twist in the plot development.

SO FAR:

Does it have SUSPENSE? 

Is there a MENACE to the hero?

Does everything happen logically?

At this point, it might help to recall that action should do something besides advance the hero over the scenery.

Suppose the hero has learned the dastards of villains have seized somebody named Eloise, who can explain the secret of what is behind all these sinister events.

The hero corners villains, they fight, and villains get away. Not so hot.

Hero should accomplish something with his tearing around, if only to rescue Eloise, and surprise! Eloise is a ring-tailed monkey.

The hero counts the rings on Eloise's tail, if nothing better comes to mind.

They're not real. The rings are painted there. Why?

SECOND 1500 WORDS

Shovel more grief onto the hero.

Hero, being heroic, struggles, and his struggles lead up to:

Another physical conflict.

A surprising plot twist to end the 1500 words.

NOW:

Does second part have SUSPENSE?

Does the MENACE grow like a black cloud?

Is the hero getting it in the neck?

Is the second part logical?

DON'T TELL ABOUT IT***Show how the thing looked.

This is one of the secrets of writing; never tell the reader--show him.

(He trembles, roving eyes, slackened jaw, and such.)

MAKE THE READER SEE HIM.

When writing, it helps to get at least one minor surprise to the printed page.

It is reasonable to to expect these minor surprises to sort of inveigle the reader into keeping on.

They need not be such profound efforts.

One method of accomplishing one now and then is to be gently misleading.

Hero is examining the murder room.

The door behind him begins slowly to open.

He does not see it.

He conducts his examination blissfully.

Door eases open, wider and wider, until--surprise!

The glass pane falls out of the big window across the room.

It must have fallen slowly, and air blowing into the room caused the door to open.

Then what the heck made the pane fall so slowly?

More mystery.

Characterizing a story actor consists of giving him some things which make him stick in the reader's mind. TAG HIM.

BUILD YOUR PLOTS SO THAT ACTION CAN BE CONTINUOUS.

THIRD 1500 WORDS

Shovel the grief onto the hero.

Hero makes some headway, and corners the villain or somebody in:

A physical conflict.

A surprising plot twist, in which the hero preferably gets it in the neck bad, to end the 1500 words.

DOES:

It still have SUSPENSE?

The MENACE getting blacker?

The hero finds himself in a hell of a fix?

It all happens logically?

These outlines or master formulas are only something to make you certain of inserting some physical conflict, and some genuine plot twists, with a little suspense and menace thrown in. Without them, there is no pulp story.

These physical conflicts in each part might be DIFFERENT, too.

If one fight is with fists, that can take care of the pugilism until next the next yarn. 

Same for poison gas and swords. 

There may, naturally, be exceptions.

A hero with a peculiar punch, or a quick draw, might use it more than once.

The idea is to avoid monotony.

ACTION:

Vivid, swift, no words wasted.

Create suspense, make the reader see and feel the action.

ATMOSPHERE:

Hear, smell, see, feel and taste.

DESCRIPTION:

Trees, wind, scenery and water.

THE SECRET OF ALL WRITING IS TO MAKE EVERY WORD COUNT.

FOURTH 1500 WORDS

Shovel the difficulties more thickly upon the hero.

Get the hero almost buried in his troubles. (Figuratively, the villain has him prisoner and has him framed for a murder rap; the girl is presumably dead, everything is lost, and the DIFFERENT murder method is about to dispose of the suffering protagonist.)

The hero extricates himself using HIS OWN SKILL, training or brawn.

The mysteries remaining--one big one held over to this point will help grip interest--are cleared up in course of final conflict as hero takes the situation in hand.

Final twist, a big surprise, (This can be the villain turning out to be the unexpected person, having the "Treasure" be a dud, etc.)

The snapper, the punch line to end it.

HAS:

The SUSPENSE held out to the last line?

The MENACE held out to the last?

Everything been explained?

It all happen logically?

Is the Punch Line enough to leave the reader with that WARM FEELING?

Did God kill the villain? Or the hero?

Excerpts from Marilyn Cannaday's biography of Lester Dent, "Bigger than Life: the Creator of Doc Savage" (Bowling Green State University Popular Press, c1990), transcribed by Jason A. Wolcott, 1995.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[un1ver53]

Jealous much? - DUKE DENNIS ONESHOT

Angst with fluff 🖤🤞🏽

IF YOU DONT LIKE SMUT THEN YOU MIGHT NOT WANNA READ - it doesn’t have smut but it’s very close to 🤗🤗

1500+ words

••••

You, Y/N Y/L/N is a famous pop star with 9 Grammys under your belt and you couldn’t have done it without your fans of course. You adore your fans a lot since they’ve got you to the place where you are now. Sold out arenas, number one albums in the world, merchandise always needing a restock, your makeup line being one of the most spoken and initiative brands there is. You couldn’t have done it without them; so when your babies keep pestering you to do a collab with a certain someone then you listen. However, you just wished it wasn’t the rapper and singer called Future.

Some people mistake Duke for Future sometimes and as a joke, his fans decide to make fan accounts and ships between you and Future, even though you have been dating Duke for 2 years and you have never seen or interacted with Future. Duke used to find the jokes funny and light-hearted until you made a small little one.

Flashback

You’re sitting on Duke's lap, his arms wrapped around you as his big hands occasionally tightly squeeze your thighs. You start giggling as the fans pipe up again of the never-ending ship of you and the singer/rapper Future. Your boyfriend sighs laughing lightly until you say, “FINE you got me... I’m only with Duke because he’s the closest looking to Futu-”

“N***A what did you just say right now?!” Duke exclaims side eyeing you, not hearing the jokey tone in your voice.

“Baby I was jok-”

“Nah don’t give me that crap, you being serious right now ma? Nah n***a the fuck is this?” Duke pauses the stream abruptly and looks at you dead seriously.

“Baby please just calm down,” you say in a peaceful tone reaching out to hold his hands, which he accepts and lets you speak, “I was only joking since people are saying that, cmon baby you really think I would do that?”

Duke sighs and lets his head rest on your shoulder and you start playing with his dreads. “I’m so sorry mamas, I don’t know what happened. I just don’t want to think about you being with another guy or thinking of being with another guy.”

“It’s okay baby, I promise I never think about other guys in our relationship,”

You put out your small pinky finger for him to interlace it with his large dark one, he smiles and holds your pinky tightly pulling you closer to then interlace your lips together. You moan quietly as his grills bite your lip teasingly and his hands start to go up further up your dress shirt (his normal-sized shirt for him). You squeal feeling his cold hand on your hip and look away shyly then see the stream is still paused and the fans are confused but also somewhat worried. You smile and gesture for him to bring back the live and he does, returning the smile with his shiny grills. The fans are then reassured that everything is okay and not many jokes about the rapper who shall not be named was mentioned again.

Flashback ended

You’re in your personal recording studio with your legs propped on the expensive equipment as you slowly turn yourself side to side in your white wheely chair to wonder what to do. You read the lyrics again and listened to the demos of your verses repeatedly again, not knowing if you should bring the rapper who shall not be named onto the song and make a hit.

Contemplating quietly, you didn’t notice the door opening and your boyfriend but also the rest of the AMP members stroll in. Kai screams “WHAT'S UP SISTER!”

You slightly jump, nearly knocking your iced coffee onto the very expensive equipment, which you could easily buy again but that’s too much effort for you and your team to set up again.

“KAI YOU BITCH! Don’t scare me like that!”

He laughs along with the others and he starts apologising. You smile, and give everyone your hugs until you stop at Duke, he embraces you tightly kissing your lips and then asking, “Are you alright mamas? I can tell something is up?”

Duke always knew when something was bothering you, or if you just weren’t okay. You could fool anyone except him. You sigh and sit back on your white spinny chair in front of the AMP members and start saying the truth. You might as well tell all of them at the same time as Duke.

“Well you know how I’m a singer?”

Everyone nods confusingly but then you continue “Well sometimes a singer needs to collaborate with other singers to make really good songs, right?”

They all collectively nod again, “Girl where is this going?” Fanum asks.

“Just wait stupid,” you sigh looking down at your hands and then speaking “Well I’ve been making new songs and I’ve made a song, a love song which needs to be a collab with a male singer.”

After that statement, all the males could see where this was going and look between you and Duke wondering if they should pipe up or not.

“Well, do you know who it’s going to be?” Duke asks sternly.

“Well… the producers are all saying that there’s only one person who should do it and the fans have also sai-”

“Fine, I’ll do it n***a!” Kai exclaims exasperated getting up to shake your hand.

Everyone starts laughing, the tension being disrupted through the air and is finally gone because of Kai’s stupidity. However, one person wasn’t laughing, Duke.

“N***A SHE AINT ON ABOUT YOU! She’s probably on about Future. Am I right?” Duke says looking straight at you.

You nod slightly not knowing what to do. He sighs getting up and walking around not knowing how to feel. “Let me hear the song,”

You nod and put it on after telling them that you’ve only recorded with your voice and no one else’s. After the grand reveal of the song, everyone is still shocked at how good your voice is and starts hyping you up. You smile proudly but look around and see your boyfriend just sitting on the sofa looking at the ground. You sigh not knowing what to do, but the saviour Davis always does. He silently starts to make everyone go out of the room before giving you a smile and shutting the door behind him, giving you and Duke privacy.

“Listen baby I-”

“Did you write the song? WHO is it about? It’s about that n***a Future ain’t it?” Angrily, Duke says frustrated and looks up at you.

“Yes. I wrote the song and guess what it’s actually not about Future. I can’t believe you think I would do that?! Do you think I’m some type of whore that would go around making love songs about other people than her boyfriend? BECAUSE GUESS WHAT. IM NOT. I MAKE A LOVE SONG ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND BUT NO MY BOYFRIEND HAS TO THINK ITS-”

Your rant was abruptly ended when Duke grabbed your neck and then started the kiss your lips, both of your tongues finding each other and dancing together as if they were salsa partners. You start to moan as your knees buckle, losing strength. Duke grabs your plump ass, slapping it before lifting you up and dropping you on top of the sofa. He gets on top of you kissing your lips then slowly starts to make his way down to your neck and collarbones, giving you love bites and dark deep hickeys. You continue to moan loudly as being in a recording studio meant that no one could hear you, even if they were pressed up against the door.

You were about to continue then a knock at the door stops you both in your tracks, “ARE YALL DONE ARGUING OR FUCKING?” you hear from the other side of the door.

You laugh and get up, and start fixing your hair combing it with your fingers to try and get rid of the crazy sexed-up hair knowing that if you could have gone all the way then you would defo have to hide the hair as it would’ve been everywhere. Duke smiles at you and hugs you tightly before saying, “I’m sorry for getting angry, I just don’t want you to be with another man. I love the song so much thank you for writing it about me.”

“Jealous much huh? Don’t worry the only love songs I’m singing and writing are about you,” You tease before getting interrupted by the rest of the AMP members intruding into the studio.

“SEE they aren’t fucking!” Chris says at Agent but Angent could see something that his best mate couldn’t.

“N***a look at Y/N’s neck then speak to me.”

You look confused whilst Duke looks down and starts laughing. You turn around to look into a mirror and see all the dark hickeys Duke left.

“DUKE, AGENT, EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You exclaim trying to hide them with your hands.

•••

You got to do the song with Future after all, and let’s just say the song was an instant hit and you may have gotten a few awards for it. Duke was the proudest boyfriend in the world and wishes he could’ve put his jealousy aside in the earlier days, but now he makes up for it by giving you the best nights and mornings wink of your life after you win the awards.

The song I’ve been on about is called ‘Loveeeeeee Song’ By Rihanna ft. Future