#but I had this sitting in my wip folder for a little while

[angstandhappiness]

PRETTY

[kissingghouls]

hi ghouls! so sorry you've had such a rubbish weekend. i hope this week is much brighter for you 🫂💕

for the ~cute interactions~ prompts: maybe something with mary holding hands/playing with each other's fingers? my mary heart yearns for something soft 😭 sending you love 💕

oh boy. This one got away from me more than once and now I've got several Mary WIPs in the folder. more Goore '24 continues I suppose. @sakuraspoke - you can absolutely have some soft Mary my beloved. thank you so much for the kind words 🖤🖤🖤

2 a.m. - Mary Goore x gn!Reader

established relationship, he/they Mary, darlin & babe used for Reader. a little suggestive but no real warnings. just 850-ish words of fluff and kissin' div by @gothdaddyissues 🖤🖤🖤

It’s late when Mary quietly tiptoes into your apartment and moves through the shadows. They’re trying not to make any noise, taking slow but giant steps to avoid the creaking spots in the floorboards while balancing that ridiculously heavy guitar case. But your boyfriend—sweet as his is—has always been blessed with more charm than grace and it’s a good thing you weren’t really asleep anyway.

You stir from your spot on the sofa, lit by the soft glow of some gruesome true crime story playing on the television. The sudden movement startles them and sends them stumbling over their own feet in a comical display of flailing limbs. He lands with a loud thud as one of his boots flies across the room, the other still secured to his foot.

A sheepish smiles creeps across his face as he looks up at you from the floor. “I’m sorry, babe,” he whispers, trying desperately not to laugh at his own clumsiness. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“It’s ok,” you reply sleepily. I wasn’t sleeping.”

He nods and returns to the task of taking off his other shoe. “What’re you doing out here on the couch?”

“Just watching TV.”

He grins and shakes a few messy strands of hair away from his face. “Are you waiting up for me?”

You give a noncommittal shrug as he crawls on hands and knees, dragging himself the short distance across the floor to reach you. He comes to rest with a groan, leaning against the sofa as he stretches his legs as far as he can after a ridiculously busy day.

“Ugh, I’ve been standing for like, twelve hours.”

“Poor baby,” you hum and run a hand through their hair. There’s no teasing is your statement. You know Mary hates days like this. You hate days like this, hate seeing them so exhausted they’re literally crawling on the floor. “Wanna come sit with me?”

They shake their head. “Can’t move. Plus, I kinda smell disgusting darlin.”

“I kinda don’t care, Goore.”

“Your funeral,” he grunts as he stands.

He throws himself over you, wedging his skinny hips between your back and the sofa. His skin is slightly sticky with old sweat and fake blood, shirt still damp from playing in a bar where ventilation is more of a joke. Most of that cologne you like is covered by the thick smell of smoke and beer, but you couldn’t care less now that he’s home. As he drapes an arm around your middle, you lace your fingers with his.

“Better?” you ask.

Mary tightens his grip and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Mmph, you smell nice.”

“Makes one of us.”

“Hey, I tried to warn you.  Not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Across the room, the narrator of a different program begins to talk about happier things while you lose yourself in the comfort of just being next to Mary. You run your fingertips over the thick calluses on his hands, appreciating every little piece of your boyfriend—the rough spots and the sweet spots and everything in between. It doesn’t matter how late it is or how dirty his clothes currently are. You live for the little moments like this, the times where you’re the only two people in the universe and the world outside your apartment no longer exists. You’d stay here forever if you could, but reality is cruel and one of you should probably be a realist.

He groans as you press your thumbs into his palm and start to massage away the aches he’s kept quiet for the last week at least.

“Fuuuuck,” he whines quietly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I think you deserve the world, Mary Goore.”

They laugh lightly, breath tickling your ear. “I dunno, I might just start with a shower.”

“Fine,” you grumble. “Can you just stay here a little longer first?”

“I’m never going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

He pulls you closer, turning his hand over to lock his fingers with yours. “To our graves, darlin. Then I’m gonna haunt you.”

“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Hmm, romantic enough to get you to shower with me?”

“Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.”

“Heh. I mean it though, you know.”

“What? That you wanna take a shower together?” you tease.

“Well, yeah. But forever, I mean. You and me.”

“Mary,” you start quietly, voice shaking as you fight tears.

“I know, I know. Marshmallow Goore.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” they ask, and you can hear the smile in their voice.

A soft “mmhmm” is all you can manage as you nod.

“Good, because I really fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

You scramble to turn in his arms, lips crashing together in a clumsy and desperate effort to get even closer to each other. They bring their hands to your face as tongues clash and your legs begin to tangle in the ensuing rush. It’s hurried and heated, too excited to be anything else and too soul-bearingly honest for any more words. There’s barely space for breaths between each kiss, the two of you left dizzy and lightheaded all the way to your bathroom.

I just wanna add a thank you to everyone who's sent prompts & requests. I'm having fun learning how to make things in these shorter forms between my normally huge projects. I might properly open up requests in the future if anyone is interested?

[futurewdclandonorris]

Lap Dance | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: basically smut, lots of babygirl I guess

A/N: decided to try myself in this writing stuff and this has been sitting in my wips folder since January. I have a lot more for Lando and Pierre written so let me know if you'd want them. Also, English is not my first language :)

It was close to midnight and George and you were just coming back from the restaurant where you celebrated your two years anniversary. You both were a little tipsy; George struggled a bit with unlocking the door of your apartment and you just stood giggling beside him. Finally, the key clicked and he let you inside first.

"You looked absolutely gorgeous tonight." he said, looking you from up and down as he turned to face you. He walked up to you, grabbing you into his embrace and resting his hands on your hips.

"You looked good too." you whispered, looking up at him and pulling him by his suit jacket.

"Oh yeah?" he inquired, your noses brushing against each other.

You nodded and let him kiss you there in the hallway. Shortly, your kiss turned into a full make out session and you had to stop him when he reached underneath your red dress because you already had something else planned in mind.

"George," you breathed, your eyes closed, as he traced kisses down your neck. "I have something for you."

"Mhm, I'm sure you do..." he mumbled as he tried to kiss you again, but you placed your hands on his chest giving him a little push. He groaned, making you chuckle, but obliged.

"Come with me. But first, let's get you out of this jacket." he raised his eyebrows in wonder, but let you slid your hands down his arms to undress him.

You took his hand and led him to the living room where you sat him down on the couch. He looked up at you with his big eyes. You pressed a finger against his lips, disabling him from any words of protest.

"Now, be a good boy and wait for me to get ready." he quickly nodded his head looking up at you and not even blinking.

You smiled and ran a finger across his jawline. You went to the bathroom where you had already prepared a set of lacy lingerie and a robe. You touched upon your hair and makeup real quick before going back to the living room and played some sensual music to set the mood. Since you were coming from behind him, the sudden noise caused him to snap his head to the right. You walked over to him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"It's me." you whispered into his neck before planting a soft kiss. You felt him tense, smiling satisfactorily to yourself.

You walked around the couch in front of him to see that he has also gotten comfortable. He was sitting back on the couch with his dress shirt half undone and arms and legs spread open. You bit hard on your lower lip. Shit, you should be the one in charge here, but seeing him on display like that made you want to commit to him instantly. You tried not to let that distract you from what you have planned to do. With regained confidence, you walked forward a bit. His eyes scanned you from head to toe and you noticed his breath deepening.

"You look amazing, babygirl." he breathed, his eyes lingering on your figure.

You started playing with the rope that was loosely keeping your robe together while walking even closer to him.

"You think so?" you asked, voice low, as you stood in between his legs now, towering over him with your robe fully open.

"Y-yes." his eyes fell from your face to your chest.

"Good." you smirked, straightening yourself and walking away from him.

You took the robe off of your shoulders and looked over at him, back still facing him. Shimmying your way out of the rest of it, you tossed it away and turned to fully face him. His breath hitched now that you were standing half exposed in front of him.

"Now," you started as you slowly made your way back to him "we are going to set some ground rules."

"Mhm," he licked his lips "and what are those, babygirl?" he reached to touch you and bring you closer to him, but you stopped him halfway.

"First one is," you said as you got a hold of his wrists "you can look, but you can't touch." you pinned his hands on each side of him. "And the second," you leaned closer to his face and brought a knee up to his crotch and started working it. "you can't get hard."

"You're making some impossible rules, honey." he let out a shaky laugh.

"If you do, I'll stop." you stopped moving your knee just to make the point even more clear. He gulped and nodded. "Good boy." George loved praise, you could see his eyes rolling back.

You let go of his hands and walked away from him once more. He adjusted himself on the couch, spreading his arms on the back of it as if to say come and get me.

Oh, and I will George Russell, you just wait.

You unclasped your bra and put a hand over one cup to keep it in place while slowly removing the straps off your shoulders. George's gaze darkened as you stood there with your bra being loosely supported with just your hands. You shimmied a bit, moving only your upper body, before you let the bra just fall off. He took a deep breath in, his eyes travelling all over your naked torso as if he's seeing it for the first time. His fingertips started dancing on the couch surface and you knew he was itching to touch you.

You flashed him a smile and took your time walking back to him, one foot in front of the other. Once you were near him, you looked at him with intention. His lips were slightly apart and his chest visibly moving up and down. Your eyes roamed around his body for a bit before you looked into his eyes again with a smirk. You crouched down in front of him, placing your hands on each of his knees. You moved your hand up, caressing his thighs, feeling his muscles twitch under your palms, over his stomach and up his chest to his shoulders. You straightened up and placed your legs on each of his sides, straddling him, but not sitting on his lap. He licked his lips and you felt his breath hit your chest.

"Please..." he looked at you with hooded eyes.

"Please what baby?" you slowly swayed your hips, playing with his collar and teasing him.

"Please, let me kiss you." he breathed, closing his eyes.

You leaned your face forward and he was ready, ready to capture your lips with his, but in the last moment you changed direction, grazing over his cheek with your lips to his earlobe.

"No can do, babe." you whispered and noticed he was gripping the sofa rest which made you chuckle in his ear.

As quickly as you got on, you got off him. You walked away unbothered, but not as far as before. You took your time, sensually moving your body to the rhythm of the music, giving him something to look at. You played with the ends of your thongs before you bent down and took them off completely without previous warning. You could hear him take a sharp breath in.

"Shit, baby..." he gasped at the sight in front of him.

You gave him a quick glance over my shoulder, your body still bent down. You stepped out of your panties, gave him a little bit more of a slow dance before you made your way backwards to him. You sat on the couch in between his legs with your back still turned to him. You started working your hips against him, leaning back over his chest and feeling his breath on your neck. Soon, you could feel something hard pressing on your lower back. You stopped moving and got up.

"No, come back..." he pleaded.

You turned around and looked at him. He was in desperate state, his head hanging back and unable to control himself any longer.

"You broke the rule, baby. I told you I would stop."

"I know, I'm sorry..." he was almost panting. "I'll try to behave, just please..." he was completely at your mercy now.

You pretended to give it a thought when you already knew what you were going to do next. You went back to him, straddled him, but still not sitting fully on his lap.

"That's all nice to hear, but I still think I'll have to punish you, baby." you whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he started rapidly nodding his head. "you can punish me. You can do whatever you want with me. Please." his breathing was heavy.

And then finally, you sat your ass on his lap. He did soften a little.

"Oh my god..." he groaned and you guessed that was a sigh of relief.

You started grinding your hips against him. You knew he wouldn't last much longer and it didn't matter anymore.

"Shit, baby, I don't know how much longer I can put it off..." he started squirming like he was trying to get away from you. You stopped moving to let him catch some breath.

"It's okay, George. It doesn't matter anymore." you caressed a side of his face.

"It doesn't?" he looked at you in wonder.

You shook your head, cupped his face and kissed him. His body prompted up, but then stood still unsure should he move or not.

"It's okay, George, you can touch me now." you smiled against his lips.

"I-I can?" he stuttered and you nodded your head. "Wow, I, uh, I don't know where to start." he nervously laughed.

"Let me help you a bit." you chuckled and took his hands. "You can start here." you placed them on your waist and his fingers curled around your warm skin. His palms started moving up your sides, over your boobs and around your neck. "It's your reward for doing so good. You've been so good to me, George." you said, feeding his praise kink and losing yourself in sensation his touch was giving you.

"You are so perfect, babygirl." he whispered against your lips before closing the gap between you.

Soon you started making out and your hips thrusted on their own. His hands were all over your body, grabbing your boobs, pinching your nipples, squeezing and slapping your ass. He placed kisses down your jaw and neck, over your chest to your boobs. He sucked and nibbed on your nipples while you were going crazy on top of him. You could even feel him grow again from under you.

"George..." you breathed, your fingers lost in his hair. He parted from you and licked his lips.

"Should we move this to the bedroom?" he looked up at you.

Unable to speak, you just nodded your head. He wrapped his arms around you firmly and lifted you up. Your legs immediately curled around his waist and he carried you to the bedroom. He softly put you down on the bed, towering over and admiring you.

"I've waited all night for this." his hands caressed your body. "And you had some nerve teasing me." he smirked.

"Was it worth it?" you asked.

"It was so worth it, babygirl. You were so good for me." he started leaving pepper kisses down your body as he spoke. "You were so good, babygirl, it would be a shame not to reward you." he kissed down your stomach, sinking lower and lower.

You gulped. He put his hands on your knees and spread them open. He begun kissing his way in on one leg and then the other. You gasped when you felt him suck on the skin of your inner thigh. He knew you loved marks and hickeys. He pulled away, admiring his work.

"It's gonna look so beautiful in the morning, babe." he then moved his attention to your core. "Ooh, babygirl, you don't even need much preparing. All this wetness just for me?" he chuckled and slid his fingers over your center.

You moaned at the contact. He proceeded to circle his fingertips around your clit, drawing figure eights, going slow then faster until you were a whining mess.

"Oh, George, please..." you panted.

"Please what, babygirl?" he perked up.

"Please... Finger me, please." you barely choked out.

"If that's what my babygirl wants, my babygirl gets." he pushed one finger inside of you and your eyes rolled back. He fingerfucked you with one hand and teased your clit with the other. You were only able to moan his name at that point.

"More," you uttered somehow.

"What? What was that?" he urged you to repeat yourself.

"More, George, please..." you cried.

"Oh, my babygirl is ready for more." he smirked as he slid another finger inside. You let out a moan and arched your back. He was so good with his fingers. "I think you're ready." before you could ask him what he meant by that, you already felt the warmth of his mouth closing in on you.

You squirmed and your legs automatically shut he needed his arm to keep them open. He sucked and lapped his tongue around you, his fingers picking up the pace. He knew you were reaching your climax as your moans grew louder and louder.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come for me, babygirl?" he asked in between licks.

"Yes..." you gritted, pulling on his hair, your hips uncontrollably going up and down, grinding on his face.

"Then do it." he commanded and you released. You came all over his fingers. "Oh, baby, look at the mess you made." he said, removing out and showing you his dripping fingers. You could only pant and look at him in your bliss. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you." he leaned forward to kiss you.

You kissed for a while and you took that to your advantage. You flipped you over, where now you were on top and had him crucified under you. He laughed, loving the way you played the dom. You circled your hips just to see how he was doing down there, but there was no need. You could already feel him. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, tossing it behind and attacking his torso with kisses until you reached his waistband. You palmed his bulge with one hand and undid the button with the other. You took the zipper between your teeth and pulled it down, keeping eye contact. That had George roll his eyes back and rest his head on the mattress. In quick motion, you had both his pants and boxers pulled down and his member standing straight in front of you.

Even after two years, his size continues to surprise you. You took it in your hands, giving it a few pumps before you licked him all the way from the shaft to the tip. George threw his head back once again, moaning. You circled your tongue around his tip before fully taking it in your mouth. He audibly gasped. His fingers quickly removed your hair that fell forward, giving you more access. You bobbed your head up and down, still warming up to take him all the way in while George was gripping your hair and giving praises left and right. You looked up at him through your lashes. The boy was in another dimension right now. Well, you were about to send him to another one. You took a deep breath in, preparing yourself for what is about to come, and sank your head down all the way to his balls. He moaned so loud you thought neighbors from the building across the street could hear him. He held your head in place for a few moments before letting you lift your head up. You took a much needed breath before you could start working on him again, but he stopped you.

"No, no, no," he whined and cupped your face "if you do that again I'll be coming down your throat in five seconds. And I want to fuck you." he kissed you. "I need to fuck you. I need to feel you. Now." he kissed you again.

You nodded and reached for the nightstand drawer. You pulled out a condom, ripped it open with your mouth and rolled it onto George's dick. You positioned yourself above him and slowly slid down. You both let out a shaky breath when the tip disappeared inside of you. He held your hips, guiding you further down.

"There we go, baby, all the way in. You're taking it so well." he moaned when you fully sat on him.

You rocked your hips back and forth before you started bouncing up and down. You took George's hands and made him hold your boobs while you rode him. Your movements started to slow down a little and he noticed, making you lay on his chest while he took over. He thrusted into you until you could no longer even form moans. Your mouth just silently hung open. Soon that pit in your stomach started forming again as you were reaching your second orgasm of the night. You dig your nails into George's shoulder.

"You close?" he breathed. You could only nod your head in response. "I feel it, you're clenching around me." he hissed and fastened his movements. "On three?" you nodded your head again and he kissed your temple as he begun to countdown.

On three you both finished at the same time. You plopped down on George's chest with your full weight, catching your breath. He caressed your hair, his cock still twitching inside of you.

"You did so good, baby." he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you for tonight."

You prompted yourself up just enough to face him. "No, thank you. You've been amazing the whole day today. Sending flowers to my work place and the gift waiting for me in the apartment." you traced your finger across his face.

"I try to give you everything, babygirl." he kissed the back of your hand.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, let's get cleaned up and go to bed, okay?" he removed a strand of your hair and kissed you quickly.

You giggled and nodded your head. He picked you up in his arms once again and carried you to the bathroom.

[kittyball23]

I just remembered your fic about Branch and Poppy expecting baby (which I liked) and now I'm curious how do you think their kid (kids) would look like. Maybe you could do an art of them (and maybe Cliva kids) It's ok if you wouldn't. Anyway I like your art and fics

Hi! I'd love to share some OCs I've had in mind. (I'll have to give myself a little more time to think of Cliva kiddos, but I do have some Broppy kiddos that I had a WIP sitting in my to-do folder for a while) But anyway, here they are!

Rosie is the one of the right, oldest of Broppy's kiddos and named after Grandma Rosiepuff. I see her personality being like that of Dora from Dora and the Lost City of Gold - bubbly and outgoing like her mother, but at the same time very knowledgeable about survivalist methods and always very crazy-prepared like her father.

Aside from her parents, gets along best with her Aunt Viva

Flo is the one on the left, younger of the two and named after Floyd. True to her name, she's got a serious rap flow and becomes good friends with Tiny Diamond. Aside from her parents, gets along best with Bruce and Clay and will try to rap-battle them. Likes John Dory for his kicked-back attitude, and is gently reminded by Floyd that not all in life is about the 'bling-a-ding'😂

[skyedancer-rae]

TGAA 2 Spoilers

A little snippet from a modern AU that's been sitting in my WIP folder for too long. So I finally finished it off. Wherein Ryunosuke's first dinner with Kazuma's foster family has a long-distance interruption. Or wherein even halfway around the world, Sholmes will find a way to cause problems. No Irises were endangered in this comic. Also, Kazuma probably made a comment along the lines of, "Well, at least Sholmes is in London right now and can't make a bad first impression with Ryunosuke." And Sholmes said, "Watch me."

Image description after cut.

Each image is a 4-panel comic read vertically.

Panel 1-1: A close-up of Mikotoba from chest up. He is wearing a white button-up shirt and red tie, no jacket. He is smiling, eyes closed, posture relaxed. He is holding a glass to show that he is at a dinner table. He says, "It's nice to meet you, Naruhodou-kun. Kazuma's told us a lot about you. I hear you used to be an English language student before switching to study law."

Panel 1-2: A close-up of Ryunosuke from the waist up. He wears a dark blue button-up, unbuttoned, over a teal shirt. He is smiling, but clearly nervous. With wide eyes and sweat beading along his temple. He says, "Oh, yes, sir. That's a bit of a long story, but really..." He is interrupted by the sound of a phone going off, indicated by a speech bubble that reads "Ba-ding-ding, ba-ding-ding, ba-ding-ding."

Pane 1-3: A shot of Susato & Rei seated beside each other. Susato wears a pink blouse with a darker pink bow at the neck while Rei wears a bright yellow sweater over a teal shirt. Susato is holding her phone, which has a pink phone case. She is staring at the screen in concern; Rei looks on in curiosity beside her. Susato says, "Father, I hate to interrupt, but you really need to see the pictures that Iris just sent."

Panel 1-4: A close-up of Mikotoba staring down at his phone. He says, "Oh? Surely it can't be.." His expression is unimpressed/unamused. After a pause, he says, "Excuse me, for a moment, everyone. I need to go make a quick call."

Panel 2-1: Mikotoba stands on the left edge of the canvas, walking off-panel while talking on the phone. He says, "Hello, Iris, how are you? Yes, I did get your pictures. Thanks for sending them so quickly. Would you mind putting your phone on speaker? Thank you." In the bottom right of the panel, the others are seated around a traditional Japanese dining table, bowls of rice and other sides set before them. Susato and Rei are seated beside each other facing the viewer. Susato is staring at her phone in concern while Rei is eating a bite of food, looking at Susato's phone in curiosity. Kazuma sits across from them with his back to the viewer. He is wearing a black turtleneck and is looking at his phone in a red phone case. His screen can be seen, showing a small picture of a stick figure (Sholmes) holding a flask with a purple, smoking chemical spewing from it. Iris' next text just says "SOS." Ryunosuke sits to the right, staring at Mikotoba in confusion.

Panel 2-2: The scene zooms in on the dining table. Everyone is situated as in the previous panel. Susato smiles at Ryunosuke and asks, "How is the food, Naruhodou-san." Ryunosuke, raising a bite of food to his mouth, says, "Oh, it's very good, Susato-san. What kind of sauce--"

Panel 2-3: A giant speech bubble covering the top half of the panel gives Mikotoba's dialogue as, "HERLOCK SHOLMES, GET THOSE DANGEROUS CHEMICALS OUT OF OUR KITCHEN RIGHT NOW!!!" Everyone's hair and clothing are blowing slightly to indicate the force of Mikotoba's yelling. Susato just stares forward with a blank, unamused expression. Beside her, Rei is still staring at her phone, smiling as she picks up another piece of food with her chopsticks. Kazuma has turned toward the left, just as unamused as Susato. To the right, Ryunosuke has jolted in shock, expression panicked. The piece of food he had been holding in the previous panel has gone flying from his chopsticks.

Panel 2-4: Mikotoba (still off-panel) says, "I DON'T CARE WHAT SCIENTIFIC BREAKTHROUGH YOU ARE ON THE VERGE OF DISCOVERING. WE JUST RENEWED THE LEASE ON THAT APARTMENT." On-panel, the other 4 are still seated around the dining table in the same configuration as described in the first panel. Susato and Rei are eating while staring at Susato's phone. Kazuma has turned toward Ryunosuke to show him the pictures Iris sent on his phone. Ryunosuke stares at Kazuma's phone with a look of complete bewilderment/disbelief.

Panel 3-1: Mikotoba, still off-panel, says, "NO, YOU DON NOT GET TO BLAME YOUR LACK OF AN IMPULSE CONTROL ON MY ABSCENCE!" At the dinner table, Susato & Rei are staring off to the left. Ryunosuke stares forward, mid-bite, in clear curiosity. Meanwhile, Kazuma is facing away from the viewer, but he is as unamused as Susato.

Panel 3-2: Mikotoba, off-panel, says, "WE BOTH AGREED THAT IT WOULD BE BEST FOR IRIS TO FINISH THE SCHOOL YEAR BEFORE YOU MOVED TO JAPAN." At the dinner table, Susato & Rei are now glancing sideways at each other. Ryunosuke has turned his attention to his food with an eager smile. In an icier tone, Mikotoba says, "YES, THANK YOU, DEAR."

Panel 3-3: In a cheerier tone, indicated by the cloud-like speech bubble, Mikotoba says, "Thanks again for informing us so quickly, Iris. Study well for your finals. I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. I love you too." At the dinner table, Rei & Ryunoskue are enjoying their food with eyes closed. Meanwhile, Susato & Kazuma are making eye contact across the table.

Panel 3-4: Mikotoba has returned to his seat with an air of exasperation, covering his face with his right hand. Rei cheerfully asks, "So, how's your husband doing, Professor Mikotoba?" Mikotoba says, "Testing every single one of Darwin's theories on survival of the fittest."

[snowyslytherinowl]

Perfect Prefect - Part 1

PAIRING: George Weasley x Reader or George Weasley x OC

SUMMARY: You’re Miss Moore of Ravenclaw, a sixth-year prefect and one of the house’s best and brightest. You don’t know who to go to the Yule Ball with, but luckily for you, George has secretly had a crush on you for a while and charms you into being his date. But there’s one slight problem that’s holding you back from sharing the news of your budding romance: your best friend and Fred Weasley are far from friends.

This work can be read either as George Weasley x OC or a reader-insert since the main character’s physical characteristics and first name remain ambiguous. I usually only publish the first part of a work when I finish the entire story or have most of it worked out, but I’m tired of having this sit in my WIP folder (and maybe it’ll motivate me to stop playing Supermarket Simulator and start writing LMAO). I’m not entirely sure when the second part will be released since I’m kinda struggling with it; nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

*GIF isn't mine; credit to @jamilelucato

We all hold our breaths as the door creaks open and Sinclair even dips her head under the water. If it’s a boy opening the door, we’d most likely scream. If it’s Professor McGonagall, it’s guaranteed we’d be reprimanded for allowing Edwards into the Prefects’ Bathroom since she technically isn’t allowed in here. 

Pritchard and Lloyd emerge from the other side of the door and we all let out a breath. Sinclair pops up from underneath the water and she sighs. “We thought you two weren’t joining us today!” 

“Sorry we’re late! Professor Sprout held us back to tell her two favorite Hufflepuffs a little secret,” Lloyd says slyly. Pritchard stands behind her, making a poor attempt to suppress a smile. 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I ask them. Professor Sprout frequently tells Lloyd and Pritchard information that only the staff are supposed to know and swears them to secrecy. Of course, their seal of secrecy doesn’t extend to us. 

“Whenever the Triwizard Tournament takes place, the school that hosts the event also hosts the Yule Ball! It’s a dance that takes place during Christmas!” Pritchard squeals. 

When the two of them join us in the bath, they divulge everything they know about the Yule Ball. Hogwarts hasn’t hosted a Yule Ball for over a century, so we’re all dying to know what the Great Hall will look like, who will be performing, and which teachers will get on the dance floor. Even Sinclair has to laugh when we imagine Professors Snape and McGonagall dancing together. Our conversation then steers to who we want to go to the ball with.

“When the Yule Ball is publicly announced, I think I’m going to ask Matthew.” Ainsworth’s cheeks blush as she says his name and it becomes my turn to smile. She’s fancied him since the beginning of the year when they partnered up in Transfiguration. She mentions him at least once during our daily debriefings in the Prefects’ Bathroom. 

“Now that is the true embodiment of the Gryffindor spirit. I second that.” Sinclair nods in approval and also grins when she notices Ainsworth blushing. 

Ainsworth smirks and swims over to sit next to Sinclair. Sinclair awkwardly scoots over as Ainsworth nudges her and rests her head on her shoulder. “Are you telling us that you also plan to ask a boy?” she asks with a sing-song voice.

“No. I meant that if you like a boy, you should ask him out. What’s the point of sitting around and waiting for a boy to make the first move when a girl is just as capable of taking the initiative?” Sinclair says with conviction.

“So does that mean you’ll take the initiative to ask Fred yourself?” Ainsworth asks with a poke to Sinclair’s shoulder. She typically gives murderous looks when someone displeases her, but this look to Ainsworth would rip her to shreds and feed her soul to the dementors. She snatches her towel and stomps out of the bath. 

“Don’t joke about that! There is no one low enough for that empty-minded, snarky tosser! All of us deserve someone better than him!” Sinclair wraps her towel around her body and heads to one of the bathroom stalls to change out of her bathing suit, ignoring the laughter that follows her. She has a vendetta against Fred Weasley, and just Fred. He bothers her in every class they have together and pairs up with her just to get on her nerves. Since she became a prefect, Fred has plotted endless pranks against her and always escapes from the scene of the crime before she can report him. Every day, we have to hear her rage about him or her plans to best him. 

Ainsworth turns to the rest of us and blows bubbles into the air. “So, Moore, who do you have in mind?”

Everyone turns to look at me and I shrug in response. “I don’t know.” That’s the truth. I don’t have a boyfriend or a crush. I’ve been too caught up in my prefect duties and my classes to even think about romance. 

“There really is no one you fancy?” Edwards asks, giving me a suspicious look. “I don’t believe that.”

“Look, the selection here isn’t prime.” There’s a long list of abominable boys that I can think of: Zacharias Smith since all he does is complain, Oscar May because he only talks about himself, and at least a dozen Slytherins with pure-blood ideals. “Even a lot of the cute ones act like they’re still first-years.”

“Spot on, Moore,” Sinclair comments as she emerges from the stall. She’s fully changed, but her wet hair walls around her face. She folds her towel and throws her bag around her shoulders. 

“Where are you going?” Ainsworth asks, shocked. “We’ve still got a quarter of an hour left!”

“Professor Snape wants to talk to me about something and I will not be late,” Sinclair says with a sigh. She points at Ainsworth before leaving the room. “Don’t forget that we have prefect duties tonight!”

Edwards and Pritchard spend the rest of our daily debriefing talking about guys they think are attractive. After I change and dry my hair, I head to the library to finish Flitwick’s essay on the limitations of portkeys. Sentence after sentence is written and page after page is flipped and I’m so caught up in my essay that I don’t notice that someone joins me at the end of the table. 

A pop and a slam bring me back to the library. I look over to see one of the Weasley twins pressing something down on the table with the palm of his hand. Whatever he’s holding down is wiggling furiously and desperately attempting to escape. Since nothing explodes or disfigures his face, I return to reading and try not to get distracted. 

Not a minute goes by when the sound of hopping and a scraping chair rips my attention from my work yet again. I almost jump out of my seat when I see a miniature frog jumping to the ceiling and landing on the table. Although it doesn’t move forward significantly each time it jumps and lands, it progressively inches closer to me. The last thing I want is for my work to be destroyed, so I cast a charm that knocks it back down to the table and disables its movement. 

Weasley approaches me and I hold out my hand so he can retrieve his frog. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes with a nervous laugh. 

“It’s fine. Are you trying to sell these?” Ainsworth has told us about Fred and George’s plans for a prank shop. I always see them huddled together in the hallways, probably developing devious new products. 

“Yeah. You see, I had this brilliant idea all worked out, but it hasn’t been going as I planned. Tap the frog with your wand and boom! It hops all around and chaos ensues! But no, they jump too high and get squashed by the ceiling.” 

“Can I take a look at it?” He nods and I turn the tiny frog in my hands. They look so realistic that I almost didn’t notice that they’re painted frogs that croak “ribbit.” “What charms are you using for this?”

“A Jumping Jinx.” When I shake my head, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I summon a book off a nearby shelf about locomotion charms, from flying and gliding to running and twirling. After turning to the page about the Jumping Jinx, I beckon Weasley over. He sits in the chair next to me and leans towards me so we both can see the opened page. I gulp before reciting an excerpt, “‘The Jumping Jinx is a clever way to curse those you want to imbue with frog-like qualities. Beware of using this jinx on inanimate objects, however, since it can cause the object to hop around erratically and turn laughter into screams.’ Quite dramatic, but there you go.” 

Weasley turns to me and grins. I blush and look back down at the book. “I had no idea. So what do you suggest?” 

I check the index for the sections on inanimate objects and turn to page 179. “The sounds coming from your frog sound fine, so do whatever you’re already doing. These two, that’s what you should use for the jumping.” I point at the 360 Charm and the Height Hex. “Do you have a spare frog you haven’t charmed yet?” 

Weasley digs through his pocket to find one and places it on the table. “Watch what I do. You’ll charm the frog to make sounds later since I’d rather not get us kicked out,” I say. He scooches his seat even closer to me and focuses attentively on my hands. I take a deep breath to calm myself before beginning. 

I tap the frog with my wand twice and utter “progressio height.” “This will only jump to one foot. Every time you tap it with your wand, it will jump one foot higher until it reaches ten feet. Then it’ll reset back to one foot. Just put that in the instructions and any kid can change the height.” Then, I swish my wand in a figure-eight motion. “The 360 Charm will make the frog change directions randomly so it’ll give Filch a hard time getting his hands on one.” 

Both of us laugh and Weasley proclaims, “You’re bloody brilliant! I’d definitely hire you for my shop if we even had a place to set up shop.” 

I blush at his compliment. “You’re one of the Weasley twins, aren’t you?”

“George. The better looking one, that is.” I giggle and internally breathe a sigh of relief. Although Sinclair thinks that George is pesky, she ignores him for the most part. All her hatred is directed at his twin, and I’d rather not deal with the drama of fraternizing with Fred. “Moore, isn’t it? A Ravenclaw with both brains and beauty.”

I blush an even deeper crimson and bite my lower lip as I nod. George stuffs his frogs in his pocket and stands to leave the library. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye.” I wave at him and my eyes follow his back as he leaves the library. 

XXX

Over the next few days, two of my friends find dates. We were all in the courtyard when Pritchard was asked by a Durmstrang boy, who bowed to her twice and kissed her hand! We weren’t there to see Ainsworth ask Matthew since she cornered him outside the greenhouse to pop the question. Though whenever I pass by the two of them cuddling up, I’m unable to hide my grin.  

I sat at the same table in the library after dinner for two days in a row, eagerly waiting for George. I felt silly for shooting my head up whenever someone walked nearby, and even more the fool for when he didn’t show up. Now on the third day, when I mistook another ginger boy for George, I internally chide myself for thinking he was being anything more than friendly. 

“Hey, you think you can lend a hand on some constipation magic?”

I look up from my numerical charts to see no one other than George Weasley smiling and holding a jar full of chewy candies. I laugh at his question and reply, “Not too much, honestly.”

“That’s fine. I’m here to talk to you, anyway.” He doesn’t give me much time to think about what he said since he sits directly next to me again and unscrews the lid of the jar. “These are meant to give you a case of constipation. Instead, they’re making you diarrhea your trousers in the middle of the corridors.”

“I’ll make sure not to eat one.” I squeeze a candy between my fingers, which oozes a gooey filling and sticks to my thumb and pointer fingers. “I don’t know, you should make the outer coating hard? I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but maybe if the candy is hard then your poo will be hard?”

“How about that?” We comb through books on potions for bodily fluids and I learn more about those potions than I ever wanted to know. Dozens of pages cover graphic ways to clear boils, and an entire section is devoted to making snot gush out of a nose like a raging waterfall. Gross. Eventually, George finds a page on potions for solid and liquid bodily fluids. 

“You were right!” he exclaims and pushes the book toward me. It’s some law about making potions for food that will either help or hurt your bowel movement.  

I encouragingly smile at him, but still say, “You should’ve looked for this yourself. I can’t believe you convinced me to read about all these gross potions.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and slicks back his hair, just like those cheesy characters on Muggle television shows.  “What can I say? I’m irresistible.” 

The library is about to close, so we head out before Madam Pince kicks us out. George offers to walk me to Ravenclaw Tower and along the way, we brainstorm ideas for sweets that are magically compatible with U-No-Poo. Popular sweets sold at Honeydukes also give us an idea of marketable candies, so we agree that chocolate with a hard outer shell will sell the best. 

When we reach the top of the spiral staircase, George asks me, “Aren’t you going to say your password? Or would you rather stick around for some extra quality time with me?”

Smiling shyly, I explain, “You have to answer a riddle to get in.” 

I knock the bronze knocker, which asks, “I never leave your body, but I’m easily lost and given away. What am I?”

I curse the knocker, who likely proposed this riddle since George is standing next to me. I lean in and whisper “heart” so only the knocker can hear it. The door swings open.

“What was the answer?” George asks, looking quite cute with his brows furrowed and a jar held against his chest. 

I push the thought aside and say, “Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

George smiles. “You bet.”

XXX

Throughout the next week, George and I meet either at the library or the Black Lake. Most of the time, we discuss ideas he and Fred have for the joke shop; other times, we speak about our other hobbies, friends, and funny stories. He tells me the stories that Fred told him about Sinclair and each time, there are always little details that don’t line up with the stories I’ve heard.

December weather is freezing, so a warmth charm helps when I’m sitting under a beech tree near the Black Lake. As I wait for George, I take a piece of dark blue fabric out of my bag and use my wand to sprinkle on twinkling stars and colorful rotating planets. Thin lines connecting the stars form constellations across the fabric, resembling the paintings of the night sky in my grandmum’s house. 

Someone shouts my first name and I look up to see George waving at me from afar. Resting the fabric on my lap, I wave back and pat the ground next to me. He plops down so close to me that our shoulders nearly touch. 

“You made that? It’s gorgeous!” George runs a hand through the fabric and traces his finger over the constellations. 

“Thanks,” I reply, blushing. Even after spending almost every day with him, I still blush around him, especially since he doesn’t seem to believe in personal space. 

“Do you have more with you?” 

I pull out three more sheets of fabric, all different designs. The one on top shows Hogwarts Castle on a sunny day with puffy clouds lazily floating past. George smiles at the fabric showing my red Scottish Fold, Peanut, napping on our favorite couch in the Ravenclaw Common Room. But George’s favorite fabric is one of Rubik’s Cube repeatedly solving and shuffling itself on a plain white background. 

“What is that thing?” George wonders, staring at the little cube in awe. 

I laugh at his amazement and tell him that it’s a Muggle Rubik’s Cube. My family owns at least four. My cousin and I used to compete over which one of us could solve it faster and it was always me, but I’m pretty sure that’s because he let me win. 

“I can imagine the look on my dad’s face if he got his hands on one of those,” George remarks and hands the fabrics back to me. 

George has told me about his father’s love for everything Muggle and I can’t help but smile at how cute that is. It reminds me of George’s fascination with jokes and pranks. “I’ll show him one if I meet him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about these before? The fabrics.”

I shrug and watch a group of first-year Ravenclaws making a snowman right at the edge of the lake. “I don’t know. It’s just something I do in the meantime. The girls do it too. Sinclair makes jewelry, Ainsworth paints, Edwards makes bags, and I sew designs on random pieces of fabric. Sometimes I add designs to Edwards’s bags. And if I have enough fabrics that all match a theme, I make a quilt.”

George huffs a laugh and I raise my eyebrows at him. “You lot are quite peculiar. I don’t get it. Why do you call each other by your last names?”

“Sinclair thought that calling each other by our last names was more ‘business-like’ and ‘appropriate for talented students worthy of future greatness.’” We both chuckle before I continue, “I think that’s only half the reason. Pritchard hates her first name, so she prefers to be called by her last name anyway. Sinclair didn’t want her to feel singled out.”

“She seems to be the ringleader of your bunch.”

“Definitely, but only because she’s so protective of us.” I nod at George’s bag and poke a hand inside the smaller pouch. “Enough about me. What are we working on today? Something to make your skin turn orange?”

“Do I need an excuse to talk to my favorite girl?” He moves impossibly closer to me and our faces are so close that my mind jumps to him kissing me. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he did. “You’re always helping me. Last night, it occurred to me I never do anything for you.”

“I’m not here because I expect anything in return,” I answer honestly. 

“You should’ve been sorted into Hufflepuff because of how kind you are.” George nudges me on my shoulder and I look down and bite my lower lip. “But I was thinking we could make a deal.”

A deal? Is he proposing that I get a cut for perfecting his products if his dream of opening a joke shop comes true? “Like what?”

“You continue to work on the joke products with me and in return, Fred and I don’t play pranks in front of you or your prefect friends. That way, there’s no need to report us. Seriously, why would a prefect participate in this pranking business?”

“Send me to Azkaban for liking problem-solving.” I playfully smack George’s arm and he rubs his hands in faux pain. “That’s hardly a deal, anyway.”

“Fine, you’ve got a point. How about this? Fred and I don’t play pranks in front of you and your friends, even Sinclair. For added benefit, the two of us go to the Yule Ball together. I’d say it’s a mutually beneficial transaction.” A hopeful sparkle appears in George’s eye. In the corner of my vision, I see George’s hands gripping his knees in nervousness. 

Before I can give him more time to feel anxious, I kiss George’s cheek and reply, “I’d love to go to the ball with you.”

George beams at me and my face mirrors his smile. “Fantastic! Now how about we head back inside? It’s getting chilly out here.” His body heat has been providing some warmth, but a slight breeze has me sticking my hands in the pockets of my coat. 

“Sure.” George stands first and offers a hand to help me up. Instead of letting go after I balance myself, I lean into him and hold his hand as we walk back to the warmth of Hogwarts Castle. 

XXX

Cold air fills the corridors of Hogwarts, forcing me to rub my hands together and cast a warmth charm. I press the tip of my wand onto my stiff fingers, finally regaining feeling in them. 

“Are you all right?” Sinclair asks. She grabs my hand and squeezes it, feeling how my hand is only beginning to warm. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just wish we didn’t have rounds tonight. It’s freezing,” I say. Ainsworth, Sinclair, Pritchard, and I prefer to complete our rounds together. Sticking together prevents us from getting bored, all while providing extra protection in case anything dangerous is lurking in these halls. With Harry Potter inside these castle walls, something may pop out and try to eat us. 

“If you say so. We can always stop by the kitchens and sit by the fire.” We turn the corner and hear water drop onto the stone floor. 

I don’t want her to worry about me, so I change the topic. “Are you excited for the Yule Ball?”

“I suppose. It’s something different than being home for Christmas,” she replies. After a moment’s pause, she turns to me. “Is this about Yule Ball dates?”

“Maybe.” Something moves at the end of the corridor, but I relax when I realize it’s only a mouse.

“Wait, don’t tell me you already have a date?” she asks and smirks at me. 

“No, not yet,” I lie. “I do have someone in mind, though, and I want your opinion.” I wouldn’t ditch George even if Sinclair attempts to dissuade me from going with him. On the other hand, I want to at least gauge her true opinion of him and avoid a future fight. 

“Listen, I know that you’ll ask me if I approve of him. However, I don’t want you to feel tense over or think that I’ll get upset by your choice of men. I won’t stop you from going with him regardless of whether I like him or not. That’s only as long you aren’t going with Fred Weasley, of course.”

“Ok, so what if I told you I’m interested in someone like him?” 

Sinclair furrows her brow and chews on the inside of her mouth. “What do you mean? Like McLaggen, Smith, or Malfoy? Aren’t the latter two too young for you?” 

Why does she associate McLaggen, Smith, and Malfoy with Fred? “Um, no.”

“Then who do you mean?” Sinclair asks, her features mirroring an even deeper sense of confusion. 

“Honestly, it’s-” 

I’m cut off by the Head Boy, who waves at the two of us. His voice booms from the foot of the stairs as he calls, “Hey, Sinclair! Come down here! Crehan threw up his dinner.” 

“Coming!” Sinclair shouts back. She turns to me and says, “Let’s discuss boy business tomorrow, okay?” Before I can reply, she runs down the stairs and starts walking with the Head Boy.

XXX

“I hate working in groups of four,” Sinclair sighs as the Charms class divides itself into quartets. Our friends at the next table naturally pair together, leaving the two of us with the awkward task of finding two other partners. 

I clutch the textbook to my chest as Sinclair and I walk around the classroom, asking people to work with us. Unfortunately for us, everyone already has partners in mind. Sinclair stands on her tippy-toes, attempting to look through the hubbub of the moving classroom. Her efforts aren’t necessary, though, because Fred and George stand taller than anyone else in the class and they conveniently look partnerless as well. George waves me over when we lock eyes, so I turn to Sinclair to say, “Come on, I found us partners.”

“Are you kidding me?” she groans when she sees who I’m dragging her to. “Is there no one else to work with?”

“Not unless you want to work with your slimy housemates. Warrington and Pucey are also partnerless.”

Sinclair completely ignores Fred when we reach the twins’ corner of the room and looks only at George. “Good morning, Weasley. How are you? I’m glad we could find one competent partner.” 

“And who am I?” Fred scoffs at her. He rolls his eyes and sits at the nearby table to avoid standing next to her for too long.

Sinclair slides into the seat across from him before setting a scrutinizing gaze at him and replying, “Gum on the bottom of my shoes.” She will only make eye contact with him if he’s sitting down since she refuses to “look up to him.” 

“They’re insufferable,” George leans down to whisper into my ear. I smack him on the shoulder as I sit next to Sinclair. 

“Come on, try your hardest to keep up with me,” Fred teases her and opens up his textbook. Sinclair glares at him and mutters “as if” under her breath.

George glances at his brother and Sinclair, who are now debating who will complete the assignment the fastest. George leans across the table to tell me, “I’ve been waiting to work with you for the longest time.”

“Really? How long?” 

He scrunches his face as he pauses to think for a moment. “I’d say at least two months.”

I blush and look at the board to the side of him. Rowena, if I keep this up, I’ll be known as Blush. The textbook page for the Anti-Alohamora Charm is written on the board, so I flip to it with the flick of my wand. “Then why didn’t you start talking to me two months ago? You act like you never get a bout of shyness.”

“Around pretty girls like you I do,” he replies and winks. He cranes his head to look at the board behind him and returns with another one of his smiles. “I bet you already know this one.”

“Yup. Now let’s get started as these two have another row. I’m sure the two of us can manage it on our own.” I stand up to grab a set of four locks for each group member, but Sinclair and Fred are too busy arguing to notice that I’ve placed locks in the center of the table. 

George grabs the blue lock and turns to me expectantly. “Show me how it’s done, beautiful.” He doesn’t pay a lick of attention to what I’m doing to my lock; instead, he’s staring at me with a goofy grin. My cheeks burn as I remember that his brother and my best friend are sitting right next to us.  

I cast the final spell to ensure that the lock doesn’t open with physical force. I then use my hand to turn George’s head to gaze at the table. “Step one: pay attention to the lock,” I joke, and an adorable pink hue colors his cheeks. 

“Step two: place the hand that isn’t your wand hand over the lock. That’ll make sure that the lock recognizes your touch when you attempt to open it.” George ignores my directions again, so I put my hand over his and lead us both to the blue lock. “Now you’re just being cheeky.”

He leans across the table and whispers in my ear, “I do prefer learning spells with a hands-on approach.” His breath tickles my ear, so I pull back with a shiver and a laugh. 

“That’s convenient considering today’s assignment. As you complete this spell, you have to focus and will for it to work.” I stand behind him and press my chest to his back. My breath hitches as I take his wand hand and trace the movements he’s supposed to make with my hand. “Now, swish your wand in a figure-eight motion twice, then swish it clockwise. Each time, say ‘contra alohomora.’”

I let go of George so he can attempt the spell on his own. His hand movements are precise and finally, the firm click of the lock is heard. “Alohomora,” I say while pointing at the blue lock with my wand, but it doesn’t open. “You did fantastic!”

“What can I say? Clearly, I’m quite talented.” He flashes me a cheeky grin.

“You really are, George.” I cup his cheek with my hand and return his smile. Rowena, I’m so excited to be his date for the Yule Ball. 

“Before you distract me again, there is one more thing I should teach you. Only you can open the lock by touching it or casting ‘alohomora,’ but you can allow other people to open it too. You just have to place their hand on the lock and say ‘amicos alohomora.’”

George intertwines his fingers with mine and moves my hand to the blue lock. “Let’s give it a shot with you.”

I pry my fingers from his. “Actually, it has to be someone else since I’m the one testing your spells.”

“Alrighty then.” George turns to Fred and Sinclair, who have been going at it this entire time. Fred is mocking her for something that happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which riles her up since her marks are her greatest pride. Fred doesn’t seem to care or notice that George presses his hand to the blue lock and grants him permission to open the lock. 

Professor Flitwick stops by our table and inspects George’s blue lock and my purple lock. “Wonderful job you two! Ten points each to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.” His eyes then wander over to Fred and Sinclair and he points at their locks. “Have you two been participating in the work your partners have completed? Ah, Miss Sinclair, excellent work on the Anti-Alohamora Charm. Next time, Mister Weasley, please assist your partners and pay more attention to the task at hand.”

Satisfaction is written all over Sinclair’s face as Professor Flitwick stops at the next table. “You should seriously consider listening to Professor Flitwick’s advice.”

“Please! You were distracting me!” Fred retorts. “How did you manage to pull off the spell in the middle of our row?” 

“Back at it again, I see,” I remark to George. 

George rolls his eyes. “It’ll be like this until we graduate. I just hope they don’t have a row during the ball.”

“And if they do, I won’t get involved. Rowena knows how passionate Sinclair can get.” Last year, Fred set up an intricate trap that dumped brown goo under the passerby, which just so happened to activate only if Sinclair walked under it. I had to hold her by her robes to prevent her from sprinting away and jinxing the life out of Fred.

“Can’t blame her half the time with the pranks my brother gets up to. I’d also try to chop off his head if I was her.” George laughs and shakes his head. He crouches down and begins to doodle something in his textbook. When I bend forward to see what he’s drawing, he pulls his textbook closer to him and wags his finger. “No peeking, now. Don’t spoil the surprise for yourself.”

“I bet you’re either drawing me or Peanut,” I joke.

George throws his head back and groans. “How do you manage to always be one step ahead of me?” 

“Clearly, I’m quite talented,” I tease, echoing the same thing he said minutes before. 

He scribbles his quill, scrunches his brow, and then presents the sketch of Peanut to me. I laugh as I trace a hand over Peanut’s exaggerated long whiskers and chunky red body. “She looks goofy and fat, but adorable as ever.”

“No need to call her hefty, now. Let the cat enjoy her treats in peace,” George teases. Every time Peanut sees George, she jumps onto his lap and rubs herself all over him. She likes him so much that she gives him a dirty cat glare if he even stands up to go to the lavatory. 

I’m laughing at his joke when I realize that Sinclair is silent and gawking at George and me. Once she notices me looking, she tilts her head in George’s direction. No words need to be spoken for me to understand what she’s trying to ask. 

Fred sighs and slaps his green lock. He looks up from his textbook and then at Sinclair. But when he notices the expression on her face, he smirks and looks over at George and me. “What secret have I been left out of? Care to tell me something, Georgie?”

“Freddie, may I proudly present my Yule Ball date? This is Miss Moore of Ravenclaw,” George proclaims and waves his hands with great pomp and circumstance. 

I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed by George’s comments. Fred extends a hand for me to shake as though we haven’t known each other for years. Regardless, I take his hand and shake it. Fred smiles at me and then slaps George’s arm. “I knew you’d find a pretty date, Georgie.”

Sinclair watches the exchange in silence, her face neutral other than raised eyebrows. But even if she tries to keep a poker face, I know her head is probably spinning at the new revelation. 

Rowena, I do not look forward to whatever she has to say once class ends.

[physalian]

Writing with Executive Dysfunction (or how to lower the barrier of entry)

So you want to write a book, but all you have is a cool one-liner, a niche super power you want to explore, and the blurry image of a love interest with a two-syllable kind of name. You don’t know where to start, what to tackle first, how to jump in the deep end.

Can you write the ending first? What if you want this really cool gimmick in a fight scene but can’t write action to save your life? Do you start in media res or with a prologue, or with the character starting their daily routine? Do you write the villain’s POV first?

Or do you start with an outline, character sheets, a title, summary, your themes and motifs? How many pages and pages of worldbuilding notes should you have built up before you’re good to tackle the first page? You’ve heard time and again the critical importance of the first three sentences. The first chapter if your audience is generous.

The pressure mounts to be unique, but not try-hard, descriptive but not flowery, intriguing, but not confusing, all in the first hundred or so words. You sit there staring at the little blinking black line on your blank page… and the idea gets shelved for another day. It collects virtual dust in the backlogs of your computer, forgotten until you have to clear out space on your hard drive and stumble across unspent potential.

Everyone and their dog has their own bits of writing advice and I’m sure I’m about to echo tips that have been around the block once or twice, but there are a few I don’t see talked about enough.

Whether you suffer from severe procrastination, fear of failure before you even begin, the overwhelming limitlessness of choice, or just can’t sit down and dedicate any time to see what happens, this list might be for you.

1. Write Every Day

This is nothing new, but I’m going to tackle the implementation of such a habit over why it’s important. You already know why it’s important. Writing every day doesn’t demand a full page of a Word doc, or 200 words before you can get up and do something else. Sometime a witty dialogue exchange comes to mind while you’re doing dishes – write that down.

Or you saw a cool name for a character in a commercial – write that down.

Or you had a dream about your characters in a high-octane street chase – write down the synopsis.

Personally, I use Apple Notes. It’s free, I can log-in to iCloud through a browser and keep writing, and my phone is always with me. I have dedicated folders to sort which notes belong to which concepts.

Disclaimer: Apple Notes is meant for exactly that: Note taking. I take it to the extremes, but it’s not a word processer. It’s not meant for anything more strenuous than putting virtual pen to virtual paper.

I build up so many variations of scene ideas and concepts for character arcs that my ‘notes’ for any given book can be as long as a full-length novel. Most of the time, admittedly, those ideas get outdated fast as I move on to bigger and better things, but the point is this: I never would move on to better things if I didn’t have somewhere to start.

I have a personal grudge against OneDrive for a sync failure losing 20k words of a WIP, so most of my writing is done through Google Docs and saved to Google Drive. It’s not the most powerful word processor, but you don’t have to worry about formatting until the very end and can export later. It’s free, like Apple Notes (assuming you have an iPhone), and the smart phone app for Google programs works phenomenally better than the MS Word app – so once again, the barrier for being within reach of places to jot down ideas is lowered. My phone is always with me.

It doesn’t have to be digital – carry around a journal or a notebook or a legal pad if you want. Whatever gets your creative juices flowing. The point is to have somewhere to take all the ideas you have in your head and get them onto paper the moment inspiration strikes.

2. Writing is Supposed to be Fun

The dreaded writer’s block, scourge of authors everywhere. You’ve reached the point in your manuscript where you’ve caught up to the epic adventure you’ve written in your head. The little writer in your brain has gone on strike and you’re left in the doldrums of how to transition from one chapter to the next. One idea to the next. One scene, one line of dialogue.

Answer: Skip it.

Unless you have a hard deadline to make, writing is supposed to be fun. Your best work comes when you’re passionate about doing it, not when you’re holding your fingers hostage to put something on the page or else.

When you start getting frustrated, walk away. When you get stressed, walk away. The manuscript will still be there once you’ve slept on it for a day or two and you’ll be glad for it. Or, write a different scene. Write a hypothetical scene (more on this point later). Write anything you want and come back to the hard parts later. The gaps will fill eventually, and if they don’t—consider what about that transition or scene is so hard and consider axing it entirely. If it’s frustrating for you, it’s probably boring or unimportant to the reader.

3. Script it

My favorite writer’s crutch is to make a skeleton of the scene I want to have, fill it with dialogue, and move on. The pretty thematic narrative can come later. It’s halfway between an outline and a first draft and, for me, someone to whom dialogue comes easier than narrative, this is another barrier removed to letting creativity flow.

I don’t have to think about dialogue tags or movement of a scene or how exactly I want to structure a sentence or describe the setting. Scripting lets me sus out the pacing of a given scene, test run a conversation I have in my head to see if it might really work before investing all the time and effort of a fully fleshed out first draft, only to erase it all later.

You can do this mid-narrative, too. If you just want to skip over a couple lines that aren’t coming naturally to you, script a vague sense of stage directions until you get to easier narrative and come back later.

When I say scripting, mine look something like this:

Character A (ChA): [position within the setting, tone of voice, any notable gesture or action that enhances the dialogue] “Dialogue.” [specific dialogue tag, if necessary] … (often a paragraph break) … “Dialogue.” Character B (ChB): “Dialogue.” [emotion, reaction, details about the setting that are now important, new revelations by the narrating POV] … “Dialogue,” [action. Tonal shift. Movement] ChA: “Dialogue.” [action] … (scene continues)

In practice:

… ChA: [kicks back against the wall of the room, arms crossed. Annoyed, waiting for ChB to speak first, but they don’t] “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to leave?” [head tilts, still waiting on an answer ChB isn’t giving] “All you had to do was ask.” ChB: “You were having fun,” [quiet, wringing their hands in their lap on the edge of the bed] “You wanted me there. So I was there.” [huffs, flips their hair back. Not sure how many times they’ve had this conversation. Will always hate parties, not going to suddenly like them just because ChA is there] “You can either have me there, or make sure I’m comfortable. You can’t have both.” ChA: “So now I’m the bad guy.” [foot thumps on the floor like a judge’s gavel] …

Scripting also lets you fill a scene with multiple new characters before you figure out their names or descriptions, tagging their lines with the bare minimum. I often test out entire action scenes (which I loathe writing) in script form, so I know I’m satisfied with the pacing, blocking, and amount of movement before I lock it in and write the first draft of actual narrative. It also forces you to make sure your characters are taking actions and not just sitting at a table like talking mannequins.

Transitioning from script to narrative can be mighty tedious sometimes if you try to fit in chunks of narrative in the exact places you left on your initial pass. Fictional prose is organic, so let it breathe.

Maybe you let a character monologue for too long, or they have too much movement in a scene that becomes unnatural and clunky. Or the entire scene ran away from you because the conversation was just that good. Whatever the case, a script, bare minimum, gets your foot in the door.

4. Write Fanfic

I like sci-fi and fantasy. I also like taking my sci-fi and fantasy characters and throwing them into ‘fanfics’ to test out relationships and start to get a feel for what makes them unique from the rest of the cast.

Sometimes the setting changes to something mundane, sometimes it’s a hypothetical scene that the current pacing of the narrative just doesn’t have room for, or it’s a flashback you’ll never include but want to have written so it’s concrete when you reference it in the present.

It also helps you fall in love with your characters when you can write them without consequence, doing whatever, doing whoever, saying whatever, going wherever. In fanfic, their personalities can start to write themselves and you discover them as you write them. And, hey, sometimes you come up with a concept so good, you change the entire real narrative around to fit it.

All your attention doesn’t have to be on the story you’re actually writing.

5. Keep All of Your Deleted Scenes

I keep so many of mine, the ‘deleted scenes’ doc of one book is 40k words longer than the actual manuscript, filled with numerous variations of the same scene written over and over again in vain trying to keep something that no longer works.

Keep them for several reasons:

It reminds you of how far you’ve come.

You can pick through the bones for bits of dialogue and setting descriptors even if the majority is trashed.

You remind yourself of what didn’t work before, so you don’t fall in that same trap again.

If you change your mind, all you have to do is copy-paste it back in.

6. Remember First Drafts are First Drafts

Let the word spew flow forth from your fingers and don’t look back and start questioning every decision and all its flaws until your creativity tank starts sputtering on empty. It’s supposed to be messy, it’s supposed to have plot holes and typos and inconsistencies and things to fact-check. If you start hyper-fixating on making sure your manuscript has absolutely no errors before moving on to the next chapter, it will never get written, and you’ll convince yourself you’re a terrible writer.

Writing is easy. Revisions are hard. Just as storytelling doesn’t have to be linear, neither does the writing process. If that critical first line just won’t come to you, stuff a mediocre one in its place and move on. Write the ending first. Write all the romantic entanglements first. Write the big climactic argument first and figure out how the rest falls into place around your beautiful centerpiece.

But remember: You do, at some point, have to write the hard stuff. Hopefully, when the time comes, you look at all the rest you’ve written and are proud enough of your progress that those daunting scenes that looked impossible before become much more approachable now. Do it for your future readers who want to know how it ends. Do it for your characters. Do it for you.

[kiwiana-writes]

Your top three comfort fics are all so good…but they’re all also pretty popular. What about a top three under 300 kudos👀

I am SO INTO what you're putting down here, anon... except for the fact that I can't fucking sort my bookmarks by kudos 🤣 so this took a little longer than I expected! I've split the RWRB fics into two: ones published this year that might just be low because people haven't had the chance to read yet, and ones from 2023 and earlier that are hidden gems. Also, please check out my Five Under 500 List from the end of October, because a couple of those are still under 300 and they are all ABSOLUTELY WORTH A READ.

Once again in no particular order:

Top 3 under 300: Red White & Royal Blue (published 2024)

Going Stag by @cicigreen03 - SERIOUSLY an underrated gem and I have no idea why, y'all are MISSING OUT. Alex is hosting Liam and Spencer's bachelor party at the lake house, Spencer's douchey colleague Hunter invites himself along... and brings his boyfriend. You'll NEVER guess who the boyfriend is.

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory - MIND. THE. TAGS. But this is absolutely, one thousand percent worth the pain.

Paper Chains by @myheartalivewrites - y'all I tried to do the thing where I quote specific lines from this fic to scream about and I could not bring myself to stop reading long enough to do so. It is an INCREDIBLE journey and one you won't regret going on.

Top 3 under 300: Red White & Royal Blue (published 2023 and earlier)

Spoke Love to Soul by @celaestis1 - honestly my eyes glazed past this as I was skimming down my bookmarks list because I just ASSUMED it would have way more kudos but???? I LOVE a mythical retelling as evidenced by the Orpheus and Eurydice WIP in my folder and this one is STUNNING. A true, true treasure.

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice by @sparklepocalypse - okay listen this one's sitting on EXACTLY 300 so I'm squeaking in while it still applies but: RUGBY THIGHS. That is all.

I want to play a game by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf - Listen it's not a secret that my love of Saw (especially the first one) is like half my personality, so this may not be MARKED as a gift for me but in my heart I tell myself it is 🤣

Top 3 under 300: Schitt's Creek

Town Hall Meeting #5,204 by the_hodag - Genuinely incapable. of reading this without laughing hysterically, actually

The Midpoint by @roguebebe - The roguest baby's first fic and fucking HELL it's stunning. Chock full of Patrick and Stevie feelings, my favourite kind.

You Can Ring My Bell by @designatedgrape - A 5+1 from the POV of the bell over the door at Rose Apothecary, which naturally means it's actually extremely tender and sweet

And as a bonus because why the fuck not...

My favourite fic of mine under 300 kudos

For RWRB it is of course Empty your heart of its mortal dream, fae prince Henry my beloved.

For Schitt's Creek there's absolutely no question: Time until the end of time, the afterlife fic I co-wrote with @ships-to-sail aka a 65,000 word treatise on grief, growth, and our effects on the people around us.

[Sleepover Saturday]

[luketaluketa]

i was organizing some files and found all the wip stuff from the previous secret samol for @/seamonsterart (go check out their work!), and these are two of my favorite illustrations ever, so here's some insight into how i made these!

for starters i already had a pretty much finished design for pickman that i had first drawn back in 2021

she has a completely wrong gun in this version because i did not remember how it was supposed to look like and couldn't find a description of it anywhere. she's wearing a hat because i forgot it was supposed to be a helm and so i ended up giving her the large hat just because the long horns coming through it are a fun image, though today i cannot imagine her wearing anything else. she already has the sword she takes from the lake skeletons, also. her armor is based on the armor the torumekian soldiers and kushana wear in nausicaa of the valley of the wind, with the incredible neck guard and long cape covering their entire body

i've always loved these designs and how the plates are evocative of insects, but also how mysterious they look with covered faces and bodies. matter of fact, at this point i had no fucking idea what pickman looked like below the cape.

the second inspiration is the young man from angel's egg.

OK, STAY WITH ME. i cannot explain this other that in my head pickman and him are VERY similar characters. the image of the half pulled cape while he holds his sword-cross-thing over his shoulder and the quiet demeanor are pretty fundamental to how i try to make pickman FEEL. i actually wanted her armor to have more piping, pulling from the biomechanical appearance of his sword-cross, but it didn't feel quite right

and the third inspiration is less inspiration and more reference work, the book "arms & armor, a pictorial archive" by carol grafton

it's a compilation of illustration works sourced from several books from the 19th century. VERY cool book to take a look at historical armor. it's on the internet archive for free!

there was also a fair ammount of looking at goats and sheep, but eventually i reached this after learning i suck at drawing furry designs. big shoutout to the furry community for making so many tutorials available btw. in highlight a very important study of the character.

now that i kinda knew what pickman looked like i entered the wonderful phase of "i don't know what the fuck i'm doing" which resulted in a bunch of bad doodles now sitting in a folder dubbed "dev hell". at this point i kinda had an idea for a relaxed scene based on one of the prompts, which i developed for a while on blender but eventually gave up on.

i then moved on to the second prompt, of pickman being badass. i decided on a low angle to make pickman look incredibly tall but the low angle of a goat's head legitimately kicked my ass so i eventually made a goat head on blender and used it to generate references with the help of designdoll. here i made her design a lot more muscular and fat, also, eventually coming to her final design.

the valve on her chestplate looks WRONG to me now, but at the time i was so tired i just rolled with it. the first pass of her armor was in a completely wrong color, which i corrected later on photoshop. i added the little metal forks pulling from her 2021 design, and the idea of little musical forks for atunning to the shape was cool to me. i also corrected her gun after actually learning what the fuck it was supposed to look like. i already knew i wanted her to be standing on the field of canola flowers, and the sky in the background was the last thing i added, also the time when i decided to really make the picture tall.

i liked the final result so much i went back and started working on the first prompt again. had a horrible time drawing the horns in the second image which led to this hell cage for building the perspective. im still not confident on the horns on the side of the head. i wanted to bring the atmosphere of a cold winter or fall morning in the second one, and to make pickman seem tired but relaxed. i overall like the second picture a lot more than the first and was very happy with how it came out.

AND THAT'S HOW THE SAUSAGE IS MADE I GUESS. if you read this whole thing then thank you for your time!

[edai-crplpnk]

Shinki adoption fic?? Please tell me everything. <3

~ @nightingaleflowlibrary

[links to the WIP game]

I have it in my WIP folder because i've talked about it so much to my boyfriend for the past *check notes* two years and a half at least apparently, that i decided to copy-paste my infodump into a Word document for easier access, but I have not technically started writing it 😆

It's set in my canon compliant/worldbuilding series. We don't have much in canon but it follows that: Gaara being called one night because Shinki is found causing some havoc and bringing him to the Kazekage Tower for the time being.

It includes :

A bunch of politics with Gaara and Kankurou trying to figure out where does Shinki come from and what happened to him, the answer to which includes some political scheming.

Some reflections about family, parenthood and parenting and Gaara and Kankurou's relationship with it, given that Gaara eventual opts for adopting Shinki, and that before that there are also both still in the "the Kazekage Clan need an heir" situation. I also think I want it to be the fic where they argue about their divergent feelings about Rasa ("He did his best with what he had" "The fuck no he didn't, he tried to kill you, several times." "Wouldn't you do it if I became a threat to the village? Isn't that your commitment to Suna?"), probably at the start, and then while they're upset with each other about it Shinki appears and they have to sort themselves out for it.

And also a lot of thing around Kankurou's relationship to children and his own childhood/youth, how seeing Shinki being cared for brings back to him the fact that it would have been possible to treat him differently when he was younger (see aforementioned arguement), how scared he is of becoming like his father and other abusive adults in his life when a vulnerable child is put into his hand, some more processing of all that, some appologies and formaive discussion with someone who has known him and seen him growin up, and the teaching that he will have to find a way because Shinki needs him, Gaara cannot do it alone, and there are things he's the only one to be able to provide for him (cue to the mandatory "Kankurou helping Shinki with his facepaint" scene).

I think I have most of the themes and important check point of the fic, but I need to seriously sit down to finish figuring out the politics (i will probably come and brainstorm that in the sand sib server), and also to have the time and will to start and finish a long fic, so I'm hoping this one is my 2025 project!

I also haven't really thoought out Baki in this, that's still uncertain. And for at least the first half Temari isn't around because until the point where the politics are a little figured out, the idea is the least people know about Shinki, the safest, but I also find it a bit disappointing that she wouldn't be here so. We'll see.

[crovoroh]

This has been sitting in my wip folder since like, idk february lol i had a thought at work, about Billy gaining just enough control to let Heather go. She calls the police, Hop shows up, something something Billy is saved, i am happy, profit.

You can even have the little drabble i started writing in the notes on my phone while waiting for my friend :'3c

Bare feet pound along the asfault heavy frantic breath play along. Heather reaches the phone booth, crashing into the door and trembling as she yanks it open and crams herself inside.

“Get help” Billy's voice had echoed in her ear, hollow and distant, his voice but strange. The second she was given the opportunity to make a run for it she did, looking over her shoulder briefly only once to Billy standing by the camaro, ax in hand, then stepping in the direction of the factory building.

Her hands clamber with the phone, dialing in the emergency number.

“hello, hawkens police station, what's your emergency?” a bored sounding elderly woman answers.

Heather pauses, suddenly unsure of what exactly to say. “uhm, i was kidnapped?”

“you were kidnapped?”

“Yeah, by my friend. But he's not right, something is wrong with him.”

“Miss, are you safe?”

“maybe? I think my friend is in danger. He told me to get help then went into the old steel works factory. I'm in the phone booth up the road, please I need help!”

“alright, just stay calm, ill send someone over.”

Heather drops the phone and crumples to the floor of the booth and lets out a sob.

…

The high beams of Hops truck caught the phone booth first. He was called to check out an abduction. It was late, he wanted to go home, and was going to pass this off to Powell or Callahan, but the report seemed funny and with hawkins track record he didnt wanna take the chance of this just being some kids hopped up in the woods. Better safe then sorry.

He parked and stepped out his truck. 

[illiasha]

WIP Wednesday

A lil snippet of one of the works I’m fiddling with in the background while I plug away at my main project!

Loki sat at the TVA’s boring, standard-issue office desk pretending to sift through the mountainous pile of files and brain-numbing paperwork that surrounded them. They had unconsciously built a small barricade of papers and Manila folders around them, for a reason they didn’t quite realize.

Something just didn’t feel right. It could be the phantom force squeezing every part of their body, or the constant uneasiness when someone looked at them like they didn’t belong.

Mobius was currently that someone, sitting across from them at the large desk, dutifully filling out paperwork like a perfected machine.

“Are you bored already? Y’know, I thought you’d last a little longer, given your ‘godly stamina.’” The analyst chuckled, sending a shiver up Loki’s spine. It made them want to itch and squirm, do something to escape this skin they were trapped in.

But Loki just huffed, rolling their eyes. “I can’t possibly be expected to complete all this! Especially in this wretched uniform, sitting in this wretched place. It’s killing me, Mobius, dear, the monotony of it all.”

They put an extra sparkle of sarcasm into their lament, a bit embarrassed to have expressed so much about how they felt, especially when Mobius was so perceptive of them.

The analyst huffed a laugh, looking up from his much smaller pile of paperwork.

“I don’t expect you to do anything if you don’t want to, Loki. I’m just glad for the company. If you wanna take a break I’d be happy to walk you around.”

The offer made Loki perk up, their attention intrigued.

“I’d like a walk, yes. A God should not be reduced to some corporate-level employee,” they said as they stood up, pushing the chair out behind them, rambling on and on about this and that until Mobius put a hand to the small of their back and guided them forward, shutting them up completely.

This is a bit on a long one (as usual 😅) but hope you enjoy!

[dual-domination]

'The sunset fic' for the meme please?

Hi Fixa! Thanks for the ask! The sunset fic is within the ‘Reverence’ folder, which has all the fics and wips of my 10-years-married-Weilan series. I guess this series became all about Zhao Yunlan’s side of the devotion between them, little pieces of their life where I don't explore anything other than softness and lightness, and the beauty of endless love when it can finally be expressed without haste and without fear.  I tend to write long and intense fics, lots of Angst, lots of conflicting feelings (you especially are following one that tends to get worse skjkjkjs), and sometimes I need to take a break from all this and rest in a sweeter, calmer writing. Sunset is more about the art that will accompany the fic than the theme itself, but since the text is not finished, I never know where it might end up and what analogies will end up being part of the narrative. Here, have a snippet and spoiler of the art :D

The scent of blue poppies was delicate, a mixture of many wildflowers Shen Wei had seen, but at the same time, similar to none.  He knew well that poppies had no scent.  Except the ones growing at his bedroom window now. Those were fragrant like warm tea steam as the snow falls. That was the best way he had found to describe the scent in words, remembering sitting by a door or window with a cup of tea in his hands and watching the translucent snowflakes falling, countless times, in his only lifetime which was many lifetimes. The comb gently ran through the strands of the long dark cascade falling over Shen Wei's shoulders and back, sliding down the sides of his hips, hanging over the edge of the bed where he sat, contrasting with light and opaque bedding. The strands shone indigo blue, in a raven-feathers black. Lean fingers followed the slow, gentle movements of the comb, gingerly aligning the locks. There was a time when letting the hair down and allowing Zhao Yunlan to play with it was purely for this purpose: Zhao Yunlan's pleasure. That was still a reason, but not entirely. When in the past, would Shen Wei have sat quietly, drawing inspiration from the silence of the room and the fragrant smoke from the burning incense mingling in the air with the faint scent of flowers made out of love for him, while his husband took care of him with veneration? Of all the people in the world, it was his very own husband a god, no less. Worthy of prayers and offerings in a time forgotten by most. But not by Shen Wei. Yesterday he was a little Ghost King, fiercely craving a simple hug. Today his husband wouldn't let him go from his arms for as long as he could keep him captive.

[nonsensicalsoliloquy]

Ooh, please tell me more about Alien Kylo and Broodmare Hux!

(from WIP FOLDER game)

Hello, my dear, thanks for the ask!! I’m both appreciative and not surprised by your interest in my ‘Kylux AU—Alien Kylo and Broodmare Hux’ XD

This WIP is actually where my response to this last sentence tag game came from!

-

First off, and most importantly, this is a filthy, ridiculous, purely self-indulgent PWP idea, and being both me and the fact I’ve let it sit in my head for well over a year, AND like 95% of that is STILL IN MY HEAD, it took on some attempts at sense and a touch of ‘plot’. Which is why ‘bullshitting alien medical science’ became much more of a thing than just because ‘this is reeeaaalllyy straining realistic credulity’ smut.

To be, uh, short:

General Hux and a group of his men were ‘captured’ after leaving a small, secluded FO base when they accidentally entered a corner of restricted space and, for the infraction, are to become a new batch of soon to be breeding hosts for a powerful and intelligent species who need compatible beings to both bear their young, as well as assist in heat cycles where the eggs they lay are not to be fertilized but need a partner to lay them in. (Alien) Kylo is (and comes from a family line) high up in the wealthy and influential ranks, so he’s one often offered first pick of partners when new batches (in his city) are ready. He doesn’t always take them up on it, but this time he does, as he’d had his eyes on Hux since they arrived.

Thus Hux’s new life takes on a second layer. Not just an alien species’ broodmare, but that of a seemingly high-ranking member of their elite.

Aaaaand…yeah. That was pretty much the initial PWP oneshot idea. The plot growth part developed more of Kylo’s background (just a tad) as well as his interest in Hux; some of the observations, experiences, and a bit of past for Hux; the ‘medical bullshit’ background for the hows and whys this is/can happen; as well as a future beyond that evident smut-a-palooza.

To be.. a little longer:

So, Alien Kylo here is not related at all to his canonverse background. There is still the Force, though it’s not touched on much, and his family line, etc. does still exist in a sense, but if you had to apply it in some form of vague parallel with ‘canon’, it’s a little more along the lines of Naboo/Kylo Amidala au stuff.

I haven’t figured out a name for his species nor their planet yet, but they’re an old, huge, well-developed, and wealthy planet with big influence in both above and below board trades. i.e. they work with respectable people in the Core and people like the First Order. One of several reasons for this is because they’re a prominent source of and power in medical research and development fields – not only for themselves, but numerous other species. This being because, a millennia(?) or so ago, their race was facing growing infertility issues, ones that could threaten to drive them to extinction.

In Kylo’s species, both males and females are capable of impregnating and being impregnated. They also are a species that lay eggs in their partner’s’ wombs (during heat periods with no intention to fertilize, as well as when wanting to do so). While working toward figuring out the reasons for the fertility decline, plus obviously helping their own, they simultaneously searched to find compatible species to serve as surrogate wombs.

One of the few compatible species are human males.

As for the appearance of Kylo’s species, they’re Dragon-like, though still not fully ‘developed’ yet in my head. Larger than your average human for sure, but typically not so much so that it’s outlandish. Kylo, of course, is larger than his usual, in both height and breadth. Their species is humanoid in form and relatively so in features; with things like a set of horns, longer tongues and sharper teeth, retractable claws and areas with scales and a change in skin color/tone/toughness, and sometimes eyes with black sclera. Also, of course, their (male) dicks are usually on the huge side and ridged (in all the 'right' ways XD) and they don’t really have testicles so much as a smaller sac/pouch in that general area that expands somewhat with eggs when in heat and preparing to lay them in a partner.

OH, on a filthy side note to the filthy filth: all ‘breeding partners’ are arranged in rooms where the walls are lined by, essentially, fancy glory holes. For all the crew to stick their asses out of for these alien VIPs (at first) to make use of. Yuuup… There will be SOME TAGS on this thing when it’s done.

Soooo… yeah. That was a lot of ‘teaser’ for what’s supposed to be a ridiculously self-indulgent, stupidly filthy PWP. Honestly, I got way too into those hows and whys with regard to the alien biology nonsense. Probably a bunch of stuff that won’t even end up in the fic whenever I get around to actually finishing it (or just writing more than a few freaking paragraphs :'C ).

Thank you again! :D

[storiesofsvu]

You probably already answered this recently and im probably just blind as a bat here but:

What you got in that WIP/To-be-written pile?

Cant wait to know what i have to look forward to!

-Ara

hahha it's all good! i tried to find it to link but i couldn't s... here's what we've got (for one shots. series i'm not including lol)

Elana Barth x reader-> mommy kink smut

Byran Kneef-> where yn's been teasing him all day and now he's going to tease her relentlessly back and be a little mean

Casey Novak x Rita Calhoun -> fluffy morning after (established relationship)

Sonny Carisi --> relationship angst where they come to a realization that while they thought they wanted the same thing, opinions change.

CM ladies mega smut -> yn friends w JJ, briefly and casually dated Em before Paris, briefly and casually dated Alex when she was on the team and now has just met Tara and is trying not to drool. Makes a joke to Em about how she doesn't know who to go home with and Em takes matters into her own hand.

Derek Morgan --> soft reassuring smut ending with some squirting

DiNozzo -> One first morning after fluff -> One first date fluff

Emily -> secret marriage fluff where the team finally finds out who she's married to

Hotch -> fluffy semi established relationship, fools in love kinda thing with a twist -> sneaky courtroom bathroom quickie ->developing relationship, protective hotch, stay the night fluff -> fluffy, developing relationship morning at work fluff

Poly Barhoun -> meeting somewhat shy/inexperienced yn at a sex club where they take her home and show her the ropes

-> pegging smut

Sonya Paxton -> comforting fluff. yn and her met outside of work post rehab stint. sonya hesitant about coming clean about her past.

Rita Calhoun -> sub rita smut. she's had a long, stressful week and yn takes it upon herself to make sure her weekend starts off in higher spirits

Addison Montgomery -> super fluffy, first kiss/first admittance of feelings.

Joe Velasco -> idiots in love trope, involving the whole squad

-> yn, bruno and joe find themselves sharing a hotel room while at an out of town conference with some rather loud and rambunctious neighbours. they figure if you can't beat 'em, join them... and have some fun of their own.

Abigail Borin -> daddy smut. pwp

Amelia Sheherd -> developing relationship super fluffy cuteness ->blooming flirtation fluff

As for series:

Alex Blake has one: fluffy, hurt/comfort

Rafael Barba: one spicy, fluffy one -> one mainly fluffy, sorta poly!barhoun harvard au style mini series

Heather Dunbar: -> three, all spicy fluffy, one with a bit of h/c -> one political thriller that's poly heather x jackie x reader

Hotch: -> 2 fluffy, semi spicy ones

Rita Calhoun -> 4. 2 AU's that are mainly spicy with a hint of drama. 1 mega fluffy. 1 fluff, hurt/comfort

Emily Prentiss -> one mainly fluff with a hint of thriller

One that's a CM and SVU crossover but i haven't figured out details and pairings yet!

I've also been going through prompt lists recently like i did when i first started writing to find ones that stand out to me and then assign them to character/see if anything sparks a good idea in my head. I either haven't been getting requests recently, or they're ones that have ONLY been the prompt and it hasn't sparked anything. I also deleted a bunch of stuff that was in my WIP folder cause it had been sitting too long without any work being done on it cause again, no ideas on how to flesh things out.

[mercymaker]

𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

i was tagged by the lovely @katsigian & @ruinbringer to drop some of my WIPs here and surprise surprise i am actually working on things!!!

i am tagging all the lovelies to nudge nudge them: @everlong1997 @kelemvorr @grymforge @voerman @rigaudon @visceralwit @lord-woolsley @yaviyavadoo @dameaylin @vinghen-tmblr @mrdekarios @dameayliins @alistairs & a bunch of people i absolutely forgot but brain's melting as you'll see.

1. First is mal/astarion fic that's sucking all of my soul out (in a good way) and the first few times i sat down to write it i ended up with tears in my eyes. it's sweet and hurty at the same time. i haven't touched it with neither proofreading nor editing so it might be a bit yikes but it is what it is:

“I was never very good with a bow,” Maleane sighed as soon as the arrow jumped away from the string, flying straight past the tree, through the branches, to land in an embarrassing thud on the ground.

Her father had tried to teach her when she was little, lining up a row of sacks filled with hay along the edge of a fence. Yet no matter how hard Mal tried, no matter how many hours she poured into loosing arrows into the targets, the bow proved as unyielding as it had been the first time she’d tried. While the drow followed instructions better now that she was older, Astarion’s efforts proved to be just as futile as those of her father’s.

Yet, the spawn’s intentions didn’t come from the same altruistic need that Lathorien had been known for. He didn’t approach her with the clever proposition to actually teach Maleane some of his fine archery tricks. It was an entirely different set of skills that he intended on using, a technique much more covert and insidious, the rest of the performance was nothing but a decoy. Astarion wanted to get close to her, and as she stood there, bow in hand, fingers pulling on the string, he swiftly shifted behind her. Just another one of those games they used to play with each other. Lies, manipulation, guile. The rogue adjusted her hold on the metal grip, his other hand pulling her hips to the side. He thought himself so subtle and clever. Yet, as Astarion moved away to give her enough space for a shot, something inside him shifted uncomfortably. A notion that sent worry down his esophagus, to fall into the pit of his stomach with an unsettling thump. He didn’t want to let go.

(he's such a boyfail to mal's girlfail lmao)

2. i am still working on those little moodboards, although very slowly. they are taking me much longer than i'd anticipated somehow. but mal's folder is getting there.

3. i have the layout of this gif set that's been sitting in my wip folder since early september, but in order to get the footage for it, i need to finish the game. it's an uh.. possible ending for my sweet lil bun maleane