Sloane Is Standing On The Top Landing, One Hand On The Banister To Balance Herself As She Slowly Glides

Sloane is standing on the top landing, one hand on the banister to balance herself as she slowly glides down step by careful step. She’s wrapped in pale pink satin and sparkling tulle, the fabric flaring out from her waist and brushing the floor, the sleeves hanging loose around her shoulders. She’s something out of his wildest dreams, a fairytale princess come to life. A goddess—his very own Venus floating down from the heavens. Sebastian blinks hard, grateful she’s still there when he opens his eyes. Sloane tucks a loose strand of her ash-blonde hair back into place as she scans the crowd, and he swears her eyes sparkle when they land on him. He flashes a lopsided grin, trying to not appear overly eager. “You…” He forgets how to speak, flicking his eyes up and down her delicate form before meeting her stormy gaze. “You,” Sloane mimics, her voice just as soft. She steps closer, reaching up to adjust his bowtie. “You look very handsome.” “I do?” Sebastian knows he is blushing, the heat on his face increasing as she grazes her fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the dark, unruly locks. “What I mean is—” he clears his throat, wanting to appear earnest. “You look…beautiful,” Sebastian hopes he isn’t overstepping the blurry lines laid between them. “Bana-phrionnsa….” The pink on Sloane’s cheeks nearly matches her dress. “Thank you.”

Realizing I never posted this before. But here's an (edited for context) excerpt from my fanfic, Magic, Madness, Heaven, Sin, a Sebastian x F!MC fic that you can read on [Ao3] and [Wattpad]

art by puri.dew

Structuring Your Fight Scene

adapted from <Writer's Craft> by Rayne Hall

Suspense

Show your characters gearing up, readying themselves.

The pace is slow, the suspense is high (use suspense techniques)

Provide information about terrain, numbers, equipment, weapons, weather.

May have dialogue as the opponents taunt each other, hurl accusations, or make one final effort to avoid the slaughter.

Don't start too early - we don't need to see the hero getting out of bed, taking a shower and having tea.

2. Start

Fighters get into fight stance: knees slightly bent, one leg forward, abdominal muscles tensing, body turned diagonally, weapons at the ready.

Each side will usually try to be the first to strike, as this will give them advantage.

The movements in this section need to be specific and technically correct.

3. Action

This section may be quick or prolonged. If prolonged, no blow-by-blow descriptions are needed.

Focus on the overall direction of the fight

Make use of the location to make characters jump, leap, duck, hide, fall, etc.

Mention sounds of weapons

4. Surprise

Something unexpected happens: building catches fire, a downpour, relief force arrives, staircase collapses, bullet smashes into the only lightbulb and everything goes dark, hero losses his weapon, etc.

Add excitement, raise the stakes.

5. Climax

Both sides are tired and wounded

The hero is close to giving up, but is revived with passion

Move to the terrain's most dangerous spot: narrow swining rope-bridge, a roof-edge, sinking ship, etc.

Don't rush the climax! Hold the tension

6. Aftermath

The fight is over: bes buddies lying dead, bandaging, reverberating pain, etc.

Use sense of sight and smell

The hero may experience nausea, shaking, tearfulness or get sexually horny

Fight scene length

Historical/adventure/fantasy: 700-1000w

Romance: 400-700w

This scene in DMATMOBIL has me in a *chokehold* after literal years.

Fave moments in DMATMOBIL by @isthisselfcare: -Hermione evened out the odds with her wifi pucks. -Draco just skewered a man with a wand. -Draco whips out a knife. -Larsen the Viking is about to face the ferally protective Auror Draco Malfoy in a hand to knife combat. Can you tell which part of Draco I spent the most time on? Yeah, I know, I like them veiny leave me alone. 🤭Also, gotta love him in his red Auror robe.

Everyone.

✨️THEM✨️

Look at them Allegrinis so cute aaaaaaa

The "Can I kiss you?/Please" Trope, but make it Ominis x MC ❤️✨

This was doodled for a scene in my fic. I live for this trope. I die for this trope. Therefore, I had to draw this trope, otherwise the Gods of Brainrot would never leave me alone.

Thank you for tagging me @lyworth :)

Green are yes! (tbh surprised at the number)

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

No pressure tagging: @sallowslove, @galaxiasgreen, @clrfulstupidity @gingerlegacy07 @tusklovercstb <3

thx for the tag @illarian-rambling !!

blue 4 yes, black 4 no :3

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

tagging : @theartsyswissapple @agirlandherquill @butchingdyke @capnmachete and all my other mutuals :3

blank under cut!!

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

🏀we BALL🏀

Honestly my cheeks, sides and diaphragm have no recovered at how funny this fic is.

Her and the Hoop | Part 1

Solomon x ball ✨🏀

Tags: Solomon x ball, SFW, Solomon is deluded, one single humorous sexual reference, historical inaccuracies, lots of Australian pride, hammed-calves, not a single rule of the game is followed, witches/wizards can now contract tuberculosis

This crack fic was written for a HL discord event. I dedicate it to @morelikeravenbore and @2centniffler who I’ve written in as characters. A/N at bottom

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence had brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

Word count: 918 {Wattpad | AO3}

The real reason Solomon Sallow despises his nephew so much, is because. . .

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Mostly women, married and unmarried from all across Scotland had congregated in my humble farming hamlet of Feldcroft. Desperate to witness the spectacle, they pushed against the barricades of the makeshift arena, corsets tight-laced and petticoats hiked up to expose their ankles to me. Perhaps it was to avoid the manure soiling their finest gowns – but I believe it not to be the latter. 

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

For a moment, I entertained the fantasies brought on by the overwhelming amount of female attention, being naturally curious to what their soft flesh might feel like when they threw themselves against me – lauding my muscular frame from years of plowing the field; but I digress.

Nothing, and I repeat: nothing, could be comparable to to the feeling of supple leather, cradling the beauty of which was firm and round, inflated with so much love that seeped into my calloused fingertips. The truth – was only she, my orange and spherical lover could fulfill me, and I desired for nothing more. My obsession for the game overshadowed everything, and all that mattered was her and the hoop. 'Wilsona' is what I affectionately named her. 

The sun had shone so brightly that day, it's warm rays bathing me in glinted golds and the promises of glory. It was the game of the century – the final showdown, so to speak. As captain of the Feldcroft Flobberworms, I'd assured our triumph against every opponent we had faced thus far. Today would mark our final and greatest victory in a worldwide basketball tournament, held for only the most talented of witches and wizards in the profession. 

The crowd was vivacious, chanting my name before I'd even begun warming up with my trademark three-quarter shots.

Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon!

I couldn't blame them; I had quickly risen to become one of Scotland's most revered basketball players – and arguably, one of the greatest in the world. I pencil-rolled down the court, grasping Wilsona tightly above my head before knocking one– two– then three of my own teammates off their feet. When implemented during a match, my then wobbling teammates would knock down our opponents like bowling balls to pins.

With the other team flailing about for purchase, I'd use my immense strength to swing Wilsona over my head and launch her into the air, having full trust she'd be caught by my ever-dependable teammate, Banshee. Holding the perfect amount of muscle and buoyancy in her tender-hammed calves, she'd use their power to float through the air, slam-dunking my Wilsona into the hoop. 

I expected to be met with raucous applause after graciously displaying a preview of my three-quarter shot, and yet, my ears were assaulted by a name I'd heard only in myths...

Aura. . .

AURA, AURA, AURA! The crowd cheered.

It was the infamous wild woman, captain of the Australian team the Darwin Dugbogs, who'd just arrived at the scene in a chariot drawn by a dozen Milo-drinking Abraxans, evident by the chunky malted drink dried at their muzzles. Rumors of her story had swept through the hamlets like a haze, with some claiming she'd been taken in as an orphaned child by a court of kangaroos and raised as their own. As a man of considerable intelligence and impeccable breeding, I was incredulous to believe such utter hogwash. 

An air of mystery and intrigue surrounded the wild woman, flowing through her lustrous auburn hair she'd adorned with sticks from her homeland. As she approached me, I found no reason to believe such a lovely and diminutive lady was anything to be feared on the court; my reputation was secure. 

'How ya goin'?' She said, her native tongue so exotic and beautiful it could only be compared to a siren song. 

I was utterly speechless, and even more so as she'd managed to ignore my handsomely rugged features in favor of the view above my head. A confident and all-knowing smile tugged at the edges of her delicate lips, as if she already knew exactly how the view from above would appear.

A ball of nerves settled into the pit of my stomach then, but I stood my ground. Defending my territory, I repeatedly dragged one leg back through the dirt while firmly planted on the other, like a bull preparing to charge. 

In my own native tongue, I answered her back.

'Fuck it, we ball.'

AN: The idea for this hastily written crack fic was inspired by the image above, which I scribbled on after noticing it looked as if Solomon was about to slam-dunk a basketball through a hoop. I couldn't have written it without having met some insanely lovely people on a Hogwarts Legacy discord server 🩵✨