SlayWrite

Fictional Character Brianrot Specialist

[rosieofcorona]

if i'm not DISGUSTINGLY in love with at least one (1) of the characters in any given piece of media it is not for me. if i have no one to crawl and weep for? can't get into it. if there is not one single character that makes me want to bash my head through a wall and then write ten thousand (fictional or academic) words about them then what is the point. respectfully

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Cillian Hawksworth Brainrot is Alive and Well!

But at least this fic is out of my system now.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/83309241

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Being obsessed with a blink-and-you-miss-them-NPC should entitle me to financial compensation.

Like...why am I obsessed with this dork?

His whole personality is "I'm afraid of spiders" and I'm like but daddy I love him.

So now I've got over 3000 words of a one-shot when I should be doing literally anything else.

Preview below the cut love you bye!

Fate Has Eight Legs

Cillian Hawksworth x Female Player Character (I named her later in the fic for ease of writing but she's pretty nondescript)

Five minutes was all he needed. Five minutes to catch his breath, to stop his legs from shaking.

…

Maybe ten minutes.

Yes. Ten minutes would do it.

Did it have to be spiders, of all things? Cillian Hawksworth wouldn’t have described himself as especially brave (he had been sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason), but he wasn’t particularly fearful either. Except when it came to spiders. They simply had too many legs, though, and those thornbacks were so vicious. So really, he thought, it made perfect, logical sense to be afraid of them. In fact, anyone who wasn’t afraid of them must be insane. And, by extension, the fact that his knees were still wobbly was actually an entirely natural and reasonable response to those wretched creatures.

He was in the middle of telling himself these things when the bothy door opened, startling him to attention. A girl, a little younger than him, strode confidently in, giving him a polite nod and warm smile before moving to the hearth to set her scarf and gloves to dry. 

He must have looked worse than he realized, though, because after a moment she turned and asked him if everything was alright. And perhaps it was the residual shock from his run in with the spiders (or perhaps he was simply not prepared to see bright eyes or rosy cheeks or windswept hair or kind smiles) but he couldn’t gather his wits enough to dissemble.

“Far from it,” he answered with a sigh. “I wandered into a ruin and was attacked by spiders.”

“Oh dear,” she replied, looking genuinely sorry for his plight. “Not those dreadful thornbacks, I hope?”

“The very same.” He was half expecting her to laugh at him, and was pleasantly surprised to be in receipt of sympathy instead. “You wouldn’t happen to have some Wiggenweld potion, would you? I’m still a bit shaky but I’m sure that would put me right.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!” He found himself taken aback by how pleased she looked at being able to be helpful. That sort of guileless kindness was in short supply these days. She opened the weatherbeaten satchel at her side, withdrew two small bottles filled with green liquid, and handed them to him. “Those spiders are dastardly. In my experience, they do like to lurk in old ruins though, so be careful if you decide to do any more exploring!” No mocking, just a kindly meant suggestion. Who was this girl?

“You’re a lifesaver, truly,” he said, smiling as he turned the little bottles over in his hand. She chuckled softly, insisting that it was nothing, and rebuffed his attempts to repay her.

“You keeping yourself safe is all the thanks I need, sir,” she said with a slight incline of her head as she put on her gloves and prepared to leave.

It was his turn to chuckle now. “Yes, yes, I’ll stay away from spiders. And ruins. And ruins with spiders.” Merlin, he felt like a bumbling idiot, but she just smiled back at him and wished him well.

It was several minutes of feeling far too warm in the face before he noticed that she had forgotten her scarf.

[sage-pages]

SPREAD THE LOVE DAY NINE: FRIENDS TO LOVERS

Either the most wholesome troop alive or the most soul crushing, no inbetween. Definitely one where the reader wants to bonk their heads together because the couple is blind. Caution: may make you throw whatever device you read AO3 on.

Okay it’s not TAGGED FTL, but I’m gonna class it as one until she tells me it’s not:

- “Wren and Wraith” by @galaxiasgreen

Absolutely hilarious rom-com with Slytherpuff romance, I’ll recommend it to everyone!! I never normally read for LI ominis but this is fantastic and yes, Green is my friend, but I dont think I’m biased in recommending it at all.

(Mature, No archive Warnings, Ominis Gaunt/Original Female Character)

I actually have no other rec’s beyond what’s been said already, that I can remember anyways!! I am terrible and need to read more fic and see more art, hence this event and I’m so grateful to everyone recommending stuff, my tbr is heaving now. Im drafting the archive posts but after Seb day I realised I should hold off his until the end and instead just compile each post in scrivener first so I don’t keep having to edit!!

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Ok so shameless self promo, my first ever completed fic was a one shot Leander x MC friends to lovers thing that is so so special to me, so I wanted to share it again. Self promo gives me hives but here we go anyway...

Late Bloomer

Leander Prewett was what you might call a late bloomer.

Tall and gangly, he was frequently teased by his classmates, friends and foes alike, for his ungainly walk, his ears that stuck out just a little too far, his long face, and his liberal dusting of freckles which were always at their most prominent at the beginning of the school year, having spent the bulk of his summer holidays helping his parents work their family farm. Whatever he tried, he always felt like he was doing it wrong; he was either too much or not enough - too eager to impress but not skilled enough to actually be impressive.

Full fic can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54053170

Love HL, love this fandom, love all of you 💘

[buzinaaa]

Oh, Leander, what are you looking at like that...👀

i didn’t expect it, but working with him turned out to be such a pleasure

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Luck, or Something Like It Ch. 2 WIP

So Garreth Weasley Fest was so much fun and I can't get my sweet lil blorbs out of my head so here's a bit of the ch. 2 I'm working on for my fest fic. I will always love these silly little pixels I stg.

Margaret knew very few things for certain, but one thing she was sure of was that Garreth Weasley was, somehow, much to her dismay, utterly inescapable. Professor Sharp had seen to that while they were at Hogwarts, pairing the insufferable boy with her from fifth year onward in the vain hope that she might have a “civilizing influence” on him, and when she first spotted the back of his stupid, obnoxious, perfectly curly ginger head on her first day of classes at Enchanters University, she was vexed but ultimately not surprised. This was simply her luck. And why would it change now?

He just didn’t think, was the thing. He didn’t care that his “experiments,” a term she used loosely, often - nay, always - went tail over teakettle; in fact, she suspected that he secretly preferred it that way, for some sick reason of his own. He didn’t give a moment’s consideration to asking a new student to pilfer potion ingredients from a professor’s office or to asking the very same student to sneak into a candy shop to purloin billywig stings, all in service of what amounted to a whim. He was careless and disruptive and incorrigible.

And he was brilliant, for which Margaret found it near impossible to forgive him.

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Did someone say Garreth Weasley Fest?????

Woooooooo Garreth Weasley Fest is finally here! Thank you so much @cuffmeinblack for organizing and for spreading the Gospel of Garreth. You are doing the Lord's work.

I was so stoked to work on this and now it's become something bigger than I had originally planned (what else is new). My prompts were "Felix Felicis" and "academic rivals" and here's what I've got!

Luck, or Something Like It

Garreth Weasley/Original Female MC

The theory was simple. Elegant, he thought. Frankly, he was surprised no one had thought of it before, but then, few people possessed the kind of daring and flair that true innovation demands, the kind of daring and flair that Garreth Weasley, Master of Potions candidate at Enchanters University and Gryffindor down to his toes, had in abundance.

And what he was attempting was certainly daring. Insane, some might say. What if, he thought, Felix Felicis could be modified slightly to have a more targeted effect? What if you could brew some liquid luck for very specific purposes? A bit nervous about a job interview, maybe? First date jitters? Embarking on your first day at a new school and worried that all your classmates have already decided that you’re a deviant reprobate? His idea for what he had come to call Felix Specialis would solve any and all of those problems, without the blemish of cheating that Felix Felicis carried in certain situations.

In theory, all it would involve was a simple modification of the incantation with the addition of an alchemical focus - a combination of powdered moonstone and stewed lacewing flies. It made sense, didn’t it? Amortentia used powdered moonstone as a way to focus the potion's effects on the brewer, and the lacewing flies in place of the tincture of thyme would balance it, so why couldn’t moonstone work to make the luck effect of Felix Felicis more specific?

When the idea to combine the methods of Felix Felicis and Amortentia occurred to him, he was startled by his own audacity. Two remarkably difficult, highly regulated substances somehow coming together seemed bold, even for him. At best, the idea was a risky one. Proposing modifications to the formula of Felix Felicis, Zygmunt Budge’s self-proclaimed crowning achievement was no mean feat, but plenty of prospective potion masters had proposed similarly audacious experiments. After all, audacity gets you noticed. Audacity makes people sit up and pay attention. But to use the alchemical theory of Amortentia to do so? Two of the most complex and tightly regulated potions known to wizardkind? And to put his academic and professional future on the line to do it? It was ludicrous. Utter madness.

But the more he thought about it, the less he was able to stop thinking about it. This could be it, he thought as he wrote his proposal of research for the university. This could be for me what the Laughing Potion was for Budge, he told himself as he carefully worked out formula after formula. Every detention, every admonition, every jape, every chuckle at my expense will have been worth it, for this, he mused as he gazed into the opalescent silver concoction softly bubbling away in his cauldron, the culmination of six months of research and another six months of careful preparation.

He could do it. He always knew he could do it. All he’d needed was the time and space to work it all out, and the proof was in the potion, as they say. A smaller, quieter part of him, a part that he barely acknowledged, would say that it would have been really nice to have someone else, anyone else, believe that he could do it. But that was too much for him to dwell on right now - he wasn’t done yet. Soon. But not yet.

“What's this? Garreth Weasley manning a cauldron and nary an explosion to be heard? Wonders never cease.”

He swallowed a groan - never let it be said that whatever cosmic forces oversee his life don’t have a sense of humour, he thought bitterly. But no, not even she would ruin his mood now, not when he was on the brink of discovery after months and months of work and preparation.

“Margaret, always a pleasure.” He didn’t even dignify her presence with a turn of his head, focusing instead on his steadily simmering cauldron. He allowed his mind to wander ever so slightly to a time in the not so distant future when he would tell the story of this day, when he made his biggest breakthrough and his classmate happened to stumble into it, a member of the ensemble cast in the great drama of his magical achievements. The thought made him grin (perhaps a little too smugly, he might have recognized if he had paid any mind to his divination studies). 

It should be said that Garreth generally disliked disliking people - he was rather affable, if he may claim such for himself, and he considered it a point of pride that he managed to more or less get along with everyone. Our time on this earth is too brief to spend it being taciturn, he would say whenever anyone remarked on his perpetually sunny disposition. And he did believe that, really he did.

But Margaret Starling was a notable exception to this praxis. From the moment she arrived at Hogwarts in their fifth year, he knew she would be a tough nut to crack. She almost never smiled (though he supposed, if it was possible for his mind to bend towards equanimity where Margaret was concerned, that wasn’t exactly surprising given what she had purportedly gone through only hours before arriving and all that business with the goblins and Rookwood and Professor Fig). She was thoroughly priggish (though, again, if Garreth could summon his better angels, he would acknowledge that this was hardly shocking either - being thrown into not just a whole new school but a whole new world would arguably have anyone trying relentlessly to toe the line if only to establish some firmer footing). And she was so insufferably competitive, she gave Imelda Reyes a run for her money. It wasn’t enough that she sailed in and caught up to the other fifth years seemingly overnight - which he really wouldn’t have cared two straws about, honestly - but did she have to be so obtrusive about it? Always watching everything he did with a critical eye and never one to shy away from offering completely unsolicited commentary - “Garreth, you can’t just substitute essence of dittany for dittany leaf, the formula will be unbalanced.” “Garreth, with that amount of hemlock, won’t you need to adjust the ginger?” “Garreth, this alchemical rate equation doesn’t look right, are you sure you should be adding that much ashwinder egg?”

It. Was. Endless.

He wasn’t too proud to admit that she was fiercely intelligent and a rather talented potioneer in her own right, but where he wasn’t afraid to crack a few eggs in pursuit of the proverbial omelette, she was meticulous to a fault, too focused on details to see the possibilities that were open to her should she just live a little. That would have been fine on its own, but he had to draw the line at her attempted interventions in his own work. Really, who did she think she was?

He was so absorbed in maintaining the temperature gauge on his cauldron that he hadn’t noticed how close she was until he smelled her perfume (which he did actually quite like, but he’d never tell her that). “Is the top secret potion project finally ready to test?” she asked, the smirk evident in her voice even if he couldn’t see her face. 

“Yes it is.” Fine, he thought. If she’s determined to talk, let her. I’m too busy for idle prattle.

“It’s looking rather nice.”

“Thank you, I’m pleased with it as well.”

She waited a moment for him to say more, but he remained resolutely focused on his cauldron.

“Well…bonne chance I suppose.”

“Thank you, Margaret.”

She apparently took the hint and moved back towards her own workstation where she was no doubt working on something tediously detailed but ultimately mundane, he thought, smirking inwardly and almost immediately reproaching himself for it. She wasn’t his favourite person in the world, but he wouldn’t be mean to her, even in his own head.

He was stalling now, and he knew it. Everything was as it should be, and there was nothing left to do but sample the fruits of his labour. Steeling himself, he picked up his ladle, measured the dose, wrote it down in his notes, and drank.

Before he had fully swallowed the draught, he knew something wasn’t right. Felix Felicis usually produced feelings of euphoria, of general confidence, and while he hadn’t expected the modified formula to have the exact same effects, surely it shouldn’t feel like this? He felt…unsteady. Unsure. Generally ill at ease. 

He was looking furiously over his notes as she puttered around his workstation, wondering where he could have erred. His formula was meticulously worked out, he had written each step in excruciating detail and followed them to the letter, so where, how had things gone wrong? Adrenaline and dread swiftly took hold of him - his legs had gone wobbly, he felt sweat start to accumulate on his forehead, and was there a haze in the air? Had someone left a cauldron unattended? His heart was beating an uncomfortable staccato in his chest. All that time, all that work, nonononononono –  

A tiny gasp, the slightest intake of breath, from behind him stopped the avalanche of his thoughts in its tracks. “Oh dear,” she said, just above a whisper. “Were you meant to use stewed lacewing flies in this?”

He had a horrific premonition of what she was about to say. “Yes…why?”

“Remember how they had some of the baccalaureate students in the laboratory organizing and cataloguing the ingredients at the beginning of term?”

Oh no. He nodded slowly, the bile in his throat stopping him from opening his mouth.

“And remember how they mixed up the stewed lacewing flies with glumbumble essence and we had to relabel all the bottles?”

Well…shit.

[keri-mcberry]

“Who’s the no-talent moonmind now?!”

Ref used 👇

[l4v3nd3r985]

close enough welcome back leander prewett

[rypnami]

yes

[imagrindylow]

I wanted to try drawing Leander and his chomping cabbage 🥹

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Excuse me while I scream and cry and throw up

[rypnami]

hello leander nation

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol

[againaweasel]

If Hogwarts had year books and senior predications, Remus would have been voted most likely to succeed. Voted on by a student body that didn’t understand why that wasn’t true, why it could never be true.

And he would have ripped that page right out.

But the idea would torture him for years.

[gjdraws]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

WHO IS USING THIS

AN APP??? THEY HAVE A FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

THE LAST FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

[iguanodonwildman]

Reminder that ao3 does not have an app. Any apps you see are third party and are making money off of the writers without their consent. They’re also probably harvesting your data. Do not support this garbage.

[fractalspaces]

Louder so people don't quick-scroll:

THIRD-PARTY APP. PROFITS OFF WRITERS, HARVESTS DATA. DO NOT DOWNLOAD.

[my-random--thoughts-deactivated]

[accio-bagel]

Saw you on your way to Hogsmeade the other day

[consultingskeletondetective]

Controversial opinion but if someone spends days and weeks and months of their free time writing fanfiction for free and you don't like it,,,you don't have to say that 💀

I mean I get the argument, no one likes everything and you should accept criticism but literally the only thing that keeps writers writing is feedback, they don't get any kind of money or compensation and generally have to lie to their friends and family about what they're spending 90% of the time on so give them a break

Learning to write is an evolution that takes time and you'll stop that stone dead by leaving a nasty comment

[imtheslayeraskmehow97]

Unless someone has specifically asked for constructive criticism or feedback, just be nice or be quiet. And when giving feedback, also be nice. Just be fucking nice, ok?