#six paragraph sunday more like

[tackytigerfic]

im soo hyped for that wartime fic :O do you have any entire how long in terms of chapters it will be?

Hello Anon, thank you so much for being excited about this. It really is such a kind thing to tell me, esp after I've been writing this fic for so long and having absolutely zero perspective on it anymore.

I am hoping to post it in chapters, as I have never had a fic long enough to do that with before! And it might be my only chance. It's currently nearly 220k with a bit more to write (but not much more!) though I am going to try to cut it back as close to about 150k as I can get it. And then I'm going to try to divide it into about 15 chapters or so, and post a chapter every 2 days for a month. They will be big chunky boys, those chapters! I know a lot of people don't read WIPs and I don't mind if people don't follow along, but I have read along with a handful of WIPs myself and it was such fun that I thought I'd like to try it from the other side. I do also have a smut epilogue planned which I might have to post a bit later, depending on how quickly I get through the editing process.

Here's a little snip from the fic too, just while I'm here, and since it's still WIP Snip Sunday! In this scene, Harry and Draco are no longer friends, after Draco ran off to France. They have just been humiliated to learn (through drinking a charmed drink) that they share the same happiest memory, and it involves a day out they had in London together many years before.

"It’s obviously some sort of error in the charm, like you said.”

“Exactly.” Draco had the steel of conviction in his voice. “But even if it wasn’t… if that really was your happiest memory, I mean. Well, you know I’m not judging you.”

“Well, you’re not exactly in any position to judge me, are you?” Harry said nastily, hating himself a bit for it. “After all, it was your happiest memory too.”

They were quiet then, Harry weighing up Draco’s silence, judging it for what he knew it was; a confession.

“Well,” Draco said, and cleared his throat. “It really was excellent ice-cream.”

“Hermione says we all have some sort of trauma reaction from being at war for so long, and she thinks I’m latching onto anything that isn’t completely terrible in my past.”

“Oh, cheers,” Draco broke in. “Though I suppose not-completely-terrible is a fair assessment.”

Harry wanted to tell him that there was a time when he was pretty much the exact opposite of terrible—the counterpoint to all the shitty things Harry had to worry about, the thing that undercut all the misery and drudgery of the war Harry was locked into. But Harry couldn’t remember feeling the purity of those feelings anymore, not since they’d been all muddied up by Draco leaving, the awful gasping pain of the surprise abandonment, the sick relentless ache of the realisation that Draco really wasn’t coming back.

“I miss London,” he said instead. “Sometimes I even miss Grimmauld Place.”

“That’s another thing he’s ruined,” Draco said, shoving his sweating plastic bags of takeaway onto the small table. “London always felt so safe. It was so big, so anonymous. I could be anyone I wanted there. And now he’s everywhere, like a virus. How often do you get back there?”

“Hardly ever,” Harry said. “When I went to meet you, that was the first time in months. The Council thinks it’s too much of a risk, me going into his territory. His warding system isn’t as sophisticated as ours yet, of course, but he’s working with a lot of innate power there, and it’s concentrated stuff. If I fall into his hands, it would be all over for us.”

“Lots of magic per square foot in London,” Draco agreed. “I do worry about that. If he gets back to his full strength at any point, with all that magical energy behind him…”

“I know,” Harry said. “It’s one of the things that keeps me up at night, to be honest.”

“There are probably quite a few of those,” Draco said, lip curling not unkindly. “Do you— I mean, I always order too much…” He waved his hand at the bags of takeaway. Harry could see a curling bag of brown paper with the corner of a herb-dappled naan poking out, and he felt ravenous again, all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

#tacky's fth #wip snip #drarry #drarry fic #six sentence sunday #six paragraph sunday more like #asked and answered #rowing and chatting #thank you anon most sincerely #i hope you like it when it does post

[warblercore]

thank you @kurtsascot for the tag <3<3 i've never done six sentence sunday before and already i'm breaking the rules but i'm sure i'll be forgiven lol

its the last sunday (last day!!!!) of 2023, and this little corner of the internet being here to come and hang out in has been so so special and amazing <3

here are six four pretty rough sketches to contribute to a very altered version of this game lol!!

harmony <3

the intended final installment of christmas klaine that i lost confidence in :( maybe next december...

vampire/vampire slayer quinntina au that i'm still trying to make work

a valentines brittany and santana

happy new year everyone <3

(i never know who to tag for these things so, pls do this if you like!!!! consider yourself tagged!!!!)

#six sentence (sketch) sunday #tag game #my art #sorry i can't provide six. i keep deleting my silly little sketches like a silly fool #i could probably write paragraphs about how important being a part of this fandom online this year has been to me so yeah. tysm :') #here's to more fun and creation in 2024 ily gleeks :D

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags! Oh my goodness y’all are active today: @martsonmars, @artsyunderstudy, @bookish-bogwitch, @whogaveyoupermission, @captain-aralias, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @palimpsessed, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla, @castawaypitch, @johnwgrey, @forabeatofadrum & @confused-bi-queer hopefully I didn’t miss anyone.

My last pimp of my “This Will All Go Down In Flames” fic. Mostly because I’ve thought of this scene daily since I wrote it. A little spicy too, but not super graphic? Still feeling exhausted from this fic and keep starting short little nothings that go nowhere… whatever it’s fine. Can’t write 12k every day.

Tags & hugs to @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @urban-sith @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @shemakesmeforget @stardustasincocaine @aristocratic-otter @moodandmist @takitalks @jbrrring @excalisbury @tea-brigade @creepyspice @mrskrementz @bazzybelle @gekkoinapeartree @dragoneggo @letraspal @im-gettingby @orange-peony @annabellelux @nightimedreamersworld @messofthejess @ionlydrinkhotwater @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @stitchyqueer

Snippet under the break for spoilers:

“Don’t act so smug,” I pout, stretching my long limbs like a cat who’s found the perfect beam of sunlight.

“Pride isn’t a sin when it’s warranted.”

“Okay but your ability to eat arse doesn’t count as something to bolster your abysmally low self-esteem.”

“Sure it does.” Simon pokes at my side. “Up. If I let you fall asleep without performing your forty-seven step skin care routine two nights in a row you’ll never forgive me.”

With a groan, I roll over…

…right into the wet spot.

“Simon!” I whine, pressing my face into the pillow to smother my disgusted cries. “Grooooss.”

“You big baby,” he coos, hooking one arm under my shoulders and the other under my knees, then scooping me into his arms. “Come on,” it’s a good thing he’s holding me, otherwise I’d swoon into oblivion, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

I nuzzle into his neck and let Simon take care of me once more.

#this will all go down in flames #snowbaz #fanfic #six sentence sunday #more like six paragraph sunday

[nevvaraven]

Six Sentence Sunday

@waririses thank you for the tag lovely I will not be following the rules xx :(unnamed Black Sisters WIP)

“Don’t,” Andromeda choked out, finally looking up from the ground to stare back at her sisters, that usual Black intensity softening within seconds from all three of them. 

She swallowed roughly, flicking her gaze between them both, fighting back the sob that had been lodged in her throat for the past two years, “don’t ask me to choose between you and him.” 

“Why?” Bellatrix laughed instantly, her amusement and cruelty staining the remaining pieces of their frayed bond black and blue, “because you’ll choose him?” 

“Yeah,” Andromeda whispered back with little to no hesitation, words like razor blades cutting her up from the inside to slice their way into her sisters’ hearts, their shared blood spilling onto the very floors they were raised on. 

And with no way of knowing her words would be catalysing the permanent crack in Bella’s mind and the abyss in Cissa’s soul, Andromeda drove the blade home and made their final cut. 

“I’ll choose him.”

#Black sisters angst ! #Idek if I like this but it’s here now #six sentence sunday #More like six paragraphs but who cares

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Six Sentence Sunday - Haven fanfic

An extract from an ongoing Haven fic that I think works quite nicely on its own...

Haven, Maine is a quiet little town on the coast. The people there fish and farm, and look out for each other, and gossip. In the summer, tourists come, and park in the wrong places and spend their money at the farmers market. And come winter when the tourists have left, Haven hunkers down against the cold and the snow, and waits until the sunshine will return. This annual cycle is familiar, but there is another cycle in Haven too, just as regular. Because, although Haven today is a quiet little town, anyone there over the age of 18 or so remembers a time when things were different, when the weather was predictable only in so far as it would follow a Caldwell's moods, and when Christmas lights might appear at entirely the wrong time of year.

But for the teenagers or even those in their early twenties, something that happened half their life time ago is easy to dismiss. They had been kids then, and maybe some of the things they saw were not as impossible as they seemed. In any case it's been more than a decade now with nothing, so that must be the end of it - why worry about it now?

For some a bit older though, they remember well enough that there is no scientific explanation for some of the things they saw or felt or did ten years ago, and they worry about whether their children will have to cope with the same impossibilities. A few years older again and there are people who remember when it happened before; stories and strange happenings from their own childhood, and whispered conversations by the adults in their lives they weren't supposed to hear about the times before that as well.

Haven knows, at the moment it knows, that it is not just (or not always) a quiet little town. But in another ten years? When those 20 somethings are in their 30s and childhood is a forgotten blur? When some of the older wisdom has passed on - will Haven remember itself then?

#haven syfy #havensyfy #six sentence sunday #ok more like six paragraphs but still #haven maine

[grandlinedreams]

|| Cassian occupies more of my thoughts than he should tbh

|| warnings: mate!cassian, uhh pretty much pwp, oral (fem receiving), piv unprotected sex (make informed choices, kids!), maybe I got a little wine drunk when i started this last night but hey sinful sunday am i right, inappropriate usage of a couch and a library, finger sucking

He's doing it on purpose.

You're sure that he is ㅡ the drag of his fingers up and down your leg is slow and intentional, and it's making it increasingly hard to focus on the book you've been trying to read.

Keyword: trying.

By the third pass of his fingertips against the inside of your thigh, you've read the same paragraph six times ㅡ and you exhale. "Cassian."

His answer is a drowsy hum and the lift of his head from where he's pillowed against your stomach. "What?"

You wonder if he knows what he's doing ㅡ perhaps not, because the drowsiness in his eyes suggests he'd almost been asleep. The way he's sprawled out over you can hardly be the most comfortable, but the lax fold of his wings says that he's been content.

You find it in yourself to feel a little bad for bothering him and he hums again when you slip your fingers into his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp.

Cassian's expression reminds you of a pleased cat, and part of you expects him to start purring. Instead, he's a little more awake as he nudges his chin against your stomach. "Is that book good?"

You blink, eyes flicking to the book, the pitiful amount that you've read, and then you shrug. "I guess so."

"Not an encouraging statement," Cassian says, eyes gleaming as he adjusts how he's settled over you. "What's it about?"

Mother damn it all. Cassian watches as you struggle to come up with an answer. "Well," you say lamely, "I haven't read much of it, so..."

"You've been here for hours," Cassian points out. "Normally you'd have been done with that book and onto the next."

"Doesn't help when I have a breathing blanket on me," you huff, cheeks hot. "You keep touching me and it's distracting."

You realize your mistake the second the words leave your lips, teeth clicking together as Cassian's eyes gleam with a darker, predatory light.

"Oh," he almost purrs as he moves further up, caging you in as he looms over you. "I'm distracting, am I?"

You don't need to look at his pupils to know they're blown wide with lust, the knead of his fingers at your hips and the stiff press of him against your thigh.

"Want to see how distracting I can be?"

"We're in public," you protest, and he laughs quietly.

"Not really."

"This is the library," you whine, and he grins.

"You think Rhys or Az haven't done things in here before?" Your hips jerk underneath him, and he pinches at your skin with a growl. "You better not be imagining either one of them."

Heat unfurls in your lower belly, stoked coals that ignite as you arch against him, pressing into the upward wander of one of his hands to your breast. He palms it, and you exhale a soft moan.

"And if I am?"

It's a challenge, one you know is going to get you in trouble as Cassian almost snarls against your neck and nips hard enough that you cry out.

"Then I'll have to remind you who you should be thinking about then, hm?"

If someone were to walk in, there's absolutely no way they wouldn't know what you're doing. For starters, the smell of arousal is sharp in the air ㅡ the second is that you're bare from the waist down, legs on either side of Cassian's head, pressing into the plush cushion of the couch as he grips your hips and fucks his tongue into you like a man possessed.

And he may as well be for the skilled work of that slick muscle inside you, the noises you fight to stifle into your arm as he bumps your clit with his nose.

"Fuck, Cass," you whine, and you tense when he laughs against your slick, aching core, kitten licks that have you groaning and fighting to cant your hips down against his face.

He allows you the tiny victory of his tongue back against your folds, licking in earnest now as you pant and muffle your moans into the couch cushion.

He doesn't need to feel the pleasure rolling down your end of the bond to know how you're feeling, the little hitched breaths and shuddering gasps more than enough to have him palming himself to your sounds, lapping at your abundant slick with a groan of his own.

But your mate has never been particularly patient when you sound like that, too eager to have his cock inside you to let you finish on his tongue. He soothes your whine of frustrated protest with a kiss that tastes like you, lets you lick into his mouth as he works his pants down enough to free his length.

"Ride me," he huffs against your mouth, nipping at your jawline as he coaxes you back, legs settling on either side of his hips as he positions himself against you. He growls at the way your eyes flutter when the blunt tip of him nudges at your entrance, teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder as you sink down onto him.

There's a brief moment of heavy breathing as you adjust, the clench of your walls making him tense further as he fights to not simply flip your position ㅡ and then you're moving, the undulation of your hips making Cassian's head tip back against the decorative couch pillow with a moan.

"Shh," you murmur unsteadily as you bounce in his lap. "Do you want them to hear us?"

It's the wrong thing to say because Cassian's eyes light with challenge, cock twitching inside you before he bucks up and you curl, hand slapped to your mouth to keep from keening.

It doesn't take much to switch your position, his wings stretching out a little to help balance him as he presses you beneath him.

"You're the one who's loud, sweetheart," he says, grinning as the deep, deliberate grind of his hips into yours has you arching, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Cass," you manage when he slings one of your legs higher against his hip to sink a little deeper into you. "Cass, please, I can'tㅡ"

"Love hearing you beg," Cassian murmurs. "My pretty baby, can't have everyone hearing how good I make you feel, hm? Your noises should be just for me."

The slip of his fingers into your mouth is familiar, the obedient part of your lips that darkens his eyes further as you dig your teeth into the tip of his index.

"Don't be a brat," he warns, though the threat is ruined for the way he grunts when you clench around him. "Little vixen," he hisses as he resumes the movement of his hips.

You hum around his digits, flattening your tongue against them as he thrusts into you harder. The couch frame creaks a little in protest beneath you but you can't bring yourself to care, especially not when Cassian tugs his fingers free of your mouth in favor of rubbing a spit slick finger against your clit.

It's sheer will that you don't scream at the contact, arching as he works tight circles against the swollen bud, groaning as you clamp around him erratically. "Come on baby," he huffs, "wanna feel you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?"

Your answer is the dig of your teeth into his shoulder as you come, making him hiss as you tighten and pulse around him. He isn't far behind you though, hips flush to yours as he spills into you with a low moan before collapsing over you.

Chest heaving, you tug at one of the loose locks of dark hair. "Can't believe you got me to do this with you, you menace."

Cassian lifts his head, giving you a grin that sends your heart skipping a beat. "You love me."

Your fingers thread into his hair. "Yeah," you say, "I do." His expression softens before he's leaning up for a soft kiss ㅡ and then the moment is ruined by the horribly familiar voice of your High Lord ringing in your head.

I hope the two of you plan on getting a new couch for the library.

#ㅡmine. #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #acotar smut

[squarebracket-trickster]

Tag Game Instructions and Ediquette

This post is for anyone who wants to get involved in tag games but isn't sure how they work. I hope this helps<3

Instructions for some popular games and other things to keep in mind are beneath the cut.

If you guys could share this around to help some friends out that would be great!

Last Line Tag

Share the last line you wrote for a WIP. "Line" is a pretty lose term, it can mean anything from a paragraph to a sentence depending on your personal definition, or depending on how much you feel like sharing. It can also come from any WIP, and normally people share prose but sometimes if they haven't written prose recently you'll see them sharing bullet points from outlines or worldbuilding documents.

Heads Up Seven Up

Pretty much the same as Last Line Tag but, instead of one line, you share the last seven you wrote. Once again, a "line" can be anything from a paragraph to a sentence, they can come from any WIP (you could even have, say 3 lines from one WIP and 4 from another if you want to share both), and it is normally prose but sometimes you'll see people sharing outlines or worldbuilding. It is also very informal. If you want to share eight lines or five lines instead of seven you are completely welcome to do so.

Six Sentence Sunday

Another similar tag. On a Sunday (in your time zone), share the last six sentences you wrote. Again, they can come from any WIP (or multiple WIPs), it is normally prose but can be from other things, and you can share three sentences or ten sentences instead if it please you.

Find the Word Tag

The person who tagged you will have given you four words to find in your manuscript. Ctrl+F your document for instances of those words and share one (if there is more than one) of the lines where they appear. If you don't have the word, you can change it to something similar (for example, you can change giggle to laugh if you don't have giggle in your document) or you can just say you did not have the word and leave it blank. You'll need to pick for new words for the people you tag to find. Try to pick common words, but not too common. Everyone will have a bajillion "said" in their draft but will likely have only two or three "screamed". Pick a mix of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, and an adverb if you want to be spicy.

A few last things about tag game etiquette:

You are under no obligation to do any of the tags you've been tagged in. You are allowed to save them for a month from now, do them tomorrow, or just ignore them entirely. No one is holding you accountable to it.

When tagging someone, especially newer writeblrs, it is generally good etiquette to specify that they are under no pressure to do your tag. Something like "tagging (but no pressure)" is fine.

Generally try to make sure someone is open to tag games before you tag them. If you aren't sure, it is okay to tag them once to see what happens but if they don't respond assume no. Some people will specify in their bio or intro post if they like tag games. You can also make a post asking others to interact if they want to be tagged.

Make your own post to respond to the tag. Don't reblog the post that tagged you with your own response.

You can link to the post that tagged you by copying the post link and pasting it into yours. Press the three dots at the top of the post that tagged you and select "Copy Link". On your own post, select a word and press "Paste" or Ctrl+V. The word will be underlined. Anyone who presses it will be hyperlinked back to the other post, like this.

It is polite to like, reblog, and/or leave a comment on a post of the person that tagged you.

Put particularly long posts beneath a Read More.

You can tag as few or as many people as you would like, or you can leave an open tag for anyone who sees the post and wants to participate. You can also tag people and leave an open tag.

That's all Folks! And have fun with the tag games!!

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writer #writblr #writing community #writerblr #writerscommunity #tag game

[shrekgogurt]

far more than six sentences sunday (but! it’s six paragraphs!)

Hi y’all. I’m facing terrible writer’s block. These damn chapters just keep getting longer. I’m going to try to force myself to write a messier draft than usual. Perhaps that will help. What doesn’t help is that these flashbacks alone are shaping up to be 3k combined 🫠 but also they’re absolutely my favorite flashbacks I’ve written. You may find a snippet below!

Simon POV, past, age sixteen:

My jaw drops, stunning me into lengthy pauses between simple words.

“What…is… happening…”

“Shut up.” Baz orders, lifting his violin to his chin. “I’m proving something.”

A smirk spreads across my face.

“Yeah, something from four years ag—”

And then he starts playing. It’s the most effective way he’s ever shut me down. Better than outsmarting me. Or outmatching me. Because I don’t really feel like I’m losing. Because Baz is good at the violin. Not groundbreakingly so. He doesn’t have time for orchestra just like I wouldn’t have time for choir even if I wanted to. But I know he’s been taking private lessons with the music teacher. I followed him to one of them last year when I thought he was making a drug deal. (Turns out the drugs—in this instance—were fucking like Mozart or something.) (Swot.)

thank you for the tags these past few weeks! @cutestkilla @emeryhall @monbons @hushed-chorus @wellbelesbian @mooncello @prettygoododds @roomwithanopenfire @iamamythologicalcreature @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum

now adding to the tags @brilla-brilla-estrellita @excalisbury @ineffable-grimm-pitch @ileadacharmedlife @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @messofthejess @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @rimeswithpurple @raenestee @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @yellobb

[theearlgreymage]

I AM READY FOR SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY FOR ONCE!!

I may have taken some mental health days this week and spent all of my free time writing.

Worked a lot on May Their Blood Boil -- I have officially finished the first arc of this beast of a fic!! It's sitting just shy of 80k (and now I have to edit it and I do not want to in the slightest.)

And a bunch of silly little one-shots. So I actually have WORDS for everyone today.

6 Sentence Excerpt from Chapter XXII of May Their Blood Boil

It didn’t work last time.  When I took the [redacted] down to the heart of Eldia - nothing happened.  It should have bound him to the palace. Tied him to the land. Let the soil feed off of [redacted] until it was sated.  But it didn’t work. 

6 Paragraph Excerpt from Untitled Reincarnation One-Shot

Things weren’t perfect. Levi still found himself suspended on occasion, mostly for fighting or being disrespectful to his teachers. But he got away with more than he should have as everyone in the school quickly learned that Levi would do anything for Erwin.  Most of his fights were over Erwin.  Smacking someone’s lunch tray out of their hand for calling Erwin a teacher’s pet. Kicking someone in the back of their knees for insinuating that Erwin was a nerd. Pushing someone against the chain link fence behind the school for stealing Erwin’s notebook.  It didn’t take long for Levi to gain a reputation as Erwin’s guard dog.  Erwin, meanwhile, was more discrete in his defense of Levi. Pinning a boy against the stall of the restroom and threatening him with a cold voice for spreading rumors about Levi. Quietly telling a teacher that someone who had tried to steal Levi’s jacket in gym that they were cheating on a test. Tripping someone and sending them flying down the stairs for insulting Levi while being sure to leave no witnesses.  By the end of Levi’s first year at Trost Middle School, the duo had a reputation for being an inseparable pair that shouldn’t be trifled with. 

6 Sentence Excerpt from Untitled PWP One-Shot that I fully blame @ic3-que3n for

Grabbing at the lapels of Erwin’s canvas jacket, Levi’s words are slurred as he tries to find feeling in his mouth. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some kid.”  Erwin spins them suddenly, pinning Levi against the edge of his desk with a tone that’s meant to be playful. “Then don’t act like one, boy.”  The tremble of pleasure that causes catches Levi entirely off guard. Never having thought about, considered even, the prospect of Erwin talking to him in such a way. 

However Many Words I Fucking Feel Like Excerpt from Untitled Client & Secretary One-Shot

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Three concise buzzes that tell me that it’s from the dark little app that I indulge in late at night.  Normally, I wouldn’t check it during the work day.  He’s too much of a distraction. But I need a distraction right now. And I did tell him to tell me about his job interview - which was … today.  No.  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I see the 1 Unread Message from Levi across the top of my screen.  It couldn’t be.  Pressing my thumb on the sensor to unlock my phone, I tap on the message notification.  Levi [3:42PM] : You said you wanted to hear how my interview went. I got the job on the spot.  It’s just a coincidence.   I type out my reply as I walk back to my desk. Not wanting to ignore the man that has captivated my every thought outside of work.  The Commander [3:43PM] : That’s wonderful news!  This could be terrible news.  Grabbing the folder that Hange left for me, I throw it open. Scanning the top of the page for the name of my new secretary.   Levi Ackerman.  Fuck. 

Hello's to all my online friends who I am terrible at staying in contact with below the cut.

And apologies for still being on my AOT bullshit. I swear I have outlines for CO fics. Swear. Promise. I'm just chasing the dopamine and serotonin lately.

@ic3-que3n @shrekgogurt @artsyunderstudy @krisrix @stardustasincocaine @upuntil6am @buffy @raenestee @aristocratic-otter @aroace-genderfluid-snake @bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @ebbpettier @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @foolofabookwyrm-activated @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @larkral @martsonmars @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @skeedelvee @stitchyqueer @theimpossibledemon @wellbelesbian @whogaveyoupermission @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @thewholelemon @yellobb

#six sentence sunday #six paragraph sunday #however many words I want sunday #The universe won't let me rest #So I told the universe to fuck off and hid from my responsibilities #And then I wrote a lot #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fic #snk fic #eruri #levi ackerman #erwin smith #levi x erwin #erwin x levi #somebody go read May Their Blood Boil please

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

Me? Starting a new fic? It’s more likely than you think 🤭 also this is fully not at all 6 sentences but I wanted to share this whole interaction so. You’re welcome for the bonus content. (I did 6 short paragraphs though so it’s still 6 something <3)

~~~~~~

Dame groaned, head falling to the side to rest on Tia’s shoulder. “You know I adore Hannah but do we have to? I wanted a night for just us.” Dame looked up at her through dark lashes as best as she could without moving her head.

Tia laughed, shifting to put her plate on the counter so she could card her fingers through Dame’s soft blonde tresses. “We’re roommates, Dada. Every night is just for us.”

Dame just pouted, nuzzling closer and saying nothing.

“We have to at least make an appearance, okay? She's been my friend since uni. Besides, we’re in charge of bringing the cake.”

Dame let out a long-suffering sigh and made a show of standing back up straight. “Fine, but just you wait and see if I give you any evening cuddles.” She stuck out her tongue. Tia rolled her eyes but her own smile widened.

“Threats don’t work if I already know you won’t follow through,” Tia retorted, blowing her a kiss and picking her plate back up.

#I cannot express how excited I am for this au #I started it like 18 hours ago and I’m almost a thousand words in #I’m having so much fun with it :)))) #I am hoping to have it out soon but I leave for vacation Wednesday so it might be delayed until after that #but maybe before we will see how fast my soul writes this lmao #anyways last nights episode was insane and it is fully at fault for this fic <3 #drag race #rpdr #rupaul’s drag race #uk vs the world #ukvtw2 #drag race uk vs the world #La grande dame #tia kofi #grandekofi #my writing #sss #six sentence Sunday #kiss au #I’m already brainstorming titles but I’ll take suggestions

[areislol]

genshin needs to start adding more genshin characters (male) for my series!!!! RAHHH genuine question but is lion boy/gaming a minor? HE LOOKS LIKE ONE HELP

but yes, i can't wait to add sunday into my hsr sahau!!)!)!) i only wrote like one paragraph for my self aware honkai starrail headcanon LMAO (not funny i need to get a move on I'm not even done w chapter six)

#—✧ · . areis rambles #sunday hsr #genshin impact x reader #hsr x reader #it's 9 pm i need to eat dinner

[tackytigerfic]

WIP Snip

Thank you so much for tagging me @drarrily-we-row-along and for sharing that delicious slice of hot angst!

I don't have anything new from my long fic that I can share atm as I'm still working on original stuff to a deadline. However this is a bit from another fic I started last year and which is probably my next project once I finish the current WIP. In it, Harry and Draco have to get married to fulfill a curse bond, but then they go their separate ways. However, due to political stuff, now Draco is back and hiding out in Grimmauld Place, against Harry's wishes.

“You’ve all gone mad,” Harry said flatly. “That’s the only explanation for this. Have you all forgotten that two weeks ago he was at a press conference pledging his support for the Minister, and every single one of us knew that it might as well have been Lucius Malfoy standing up there.” Across the room, Malfoy flinched, and Harry felt viciously glad. “Maybe he did help Hermione, she says so, so it must be true. But I don’t trust him. I never have. I can feel him, Minerva, through the bond. I’m stuck with him. And now I have to live with him? I married him so I’d never have to see him again. And you’re trying to pretend this is a choice? I never thought you’d do this to me.”

He crossed the room in a temper, and Malfoy lifted his chin insolently, put a hand up to keep him back. Harry took his wrist terribly gently. 

“You can stay, Malfoy. But I need your promise as my husband that you won’t tell anyone where we are. Because I still don’t believe that you don’t want me dead.”

“Not caring about whether you live or die isn’t the same thing as actively wishing you dead,” Malfoy said casually. “But fine.” He twisted his wrist in Harry’s grip so they were holding hands, fingers intertwined. There wasn’t any trace of a tremble, though his hand was desperately cold. “I swear it, husband. I’ll keep your secrets.” Around their wrists, the handfast bond flared into life for a moment before fading out again.

“Right,” Malfoy said disgustedly, shaking his hand free. “That’s quite enough of that. I must say, it’s a thankless task, this spying business.” He smiled coldly at Harry. “I thought there’d be more glory, pitching in on the side of right. If I’d known it would be this much trouble, I wouldn’t have bothered.” He switched to Minerva, and it was a real smile this time. “Maybe someone should have told this one what was going on. I could have told you he’d react like this. He doesn’t like being left out of things.”

It was breathtaking, his arrogance, Harry thought. His absolute certainty that he knew anything about Harry, or that he had the right to talk about Harry like that. Harry felt the quiver of rage, like a living thing, something muscular, rippling through him.

“Please try to behave,” Minerva said, and then she was, horrifyingly, giving Malfoy a brief, fierce hug. “Harry.” She reached for him, and he couldn’t help it, he recoiled. She smiled, unhurt. “I shall see you soon. Never fear. We shall prevail again.” She slipped out of the kitchen, and in the sudden silence, Harry and Malfoy could hear her quick, quiet footstops ascending the stairs, and then the heavy thump of the big front door shutting.

“Don’t say a word,” Malfoy said quickly when Harry turned to him. “I’m not here to cause trouble, no matter what you think. I’m just trying not to die. Now I’m going to go to bed and very much not sleep. See you around, Potter.”

And then he was gone too, though after a few seconds Harry could no longer hear him, because he was in his socks in Harry’s home, and it was more horrible than Harry could have imagined. Harry slowly moved around the kitchen, gathering the dirty cups, emptying the teapot, hiding the rest of the Jaffa Cakes. The only sound was the low muffled crackle of the fire, and the pop of coals.

#wip snip #six sentence sunday #or more like nine paragraph sunday amirite #drarry #i queue #rowing and writing

[sallow-tales]

Strong and Sweet – Garreth Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: Modern coffee shop AU; The ever lovely Garreth Weasley catches your eye from behind the counter of your local cafe. Pure fluff.

A/n: Once I got this idea into my head, it would not leave, so here we are. It's been edited, but only lightly. This is genuinely the longest fic I've ever written, I'm usually a sucker for short and sweet, but not in this case. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral, but once again let me know if you catch a mistake. Also, the topic of the paper is incredibly self indulgent. With love, your friendly neighborhood anthro major <3

Word Count: 2897

You let out a sigh, fingers pressing almost painfully to your temples as you stared at the screen in front of you. You’d been trying to write this damned essay for hours, but the words didn’t seem to want to get out of your brain and onto the page. Not to mention that nearly every potential source you found was useless to you for one reason or another. 

The article currently open on your computer began to swim in front of your eyes, words blurring together as you tried to read them. As much as you wished you could take a break, you’d procrastinated this paper for far longer than you should have, and you were now to the point of questioning if you’d even be able to get it done before the due date. The due date, you realized, that was now only six hours away. Why’d your professor have to be special and make things due at 10pm on a Tuesday, instead of midnight on a Sunday like a normal person?

Dragging yourself out of your train of thought took more effort than you’d have liked as you once again tried to read through someone else’s science. You were slightly more successful this time, but once you’d gotten through the next three paragraphs, you let out a frustrated groan. There was no sense to this study–it ignored nearly all precedent and was trying to test a theory that anyone with common sense would know to be impossible. 

You slammed your computer shut in mild frustration and closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm yourself down, only for your meditation attempt to be interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Careful now, doll. If you get much more frustrated you might start throwing things, and as much as I love having you here, I’d hate having to clean that up.” Your eyes open and you glance up to look at the redheaded boy standing over you

Your face relaxes as your gaze lands on him. You couldn’t be stressed when he was smiling at you like that.

The two of you had first met in this very coffee shop at the beginning of the term–him behind the register and you desperately needing some caffeine to get through your first week of classes.

“Give me something strong,” you’d said when you walked up, and he’d given you a playful salute in response.

“Yes ma’am, one americano coming right up.” 

His playful demeanor and charming smile had you grinning right back at him despite your exhaustion. When he’d handed you your drink, though, you couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed your face. You needed the caffeine, but boy did you hate the bitter taste that it left on your tongue.

“You should have told me you didn’t like it straight when I took your order.” You weren’t expecting to hear his voice and you looked back at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You asked for something strong, but you didn’t have to take my first suggestion if you knew it wasn’t something you’d enjoy. Tell me what sorts of flavors you like and I can make you something you’ll actually drink.” You could tell he was eager to make you something new, though you weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to like it or if he just wanted to show off; either way, you rattled off your usual order, and some likes and dislikes, answering his questions when he asked and before you knew it you had a brand new cup in front of you.

This time when you took a sip, you practically moaned. It was spectacular. “How the hell did you do that? I don’t think I’ve ever had something this good in my life.”

His cheeky grin widened. “What can I say, I’m great at what I do. Though if you’d told me from the get-go that you like it strong and sweet, I could have just given you my number and been done with it.” His wink that followed sent flames through your cheeks and you’d turned your head to try and hide them.

Despite his flirtatious remark upon your initial meeting, nothing more had ever happened. Well, except for you developing one of the biggest crushes you think you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Against your better judgment (and to the chagrin of your wallet), you found yourself back in that cafe nearly every single day, always hoping to see his green eyes glittering at you from across the room. You knew the crush was stupid, but you didn’t blame yourself for it. How could you? It wasn’t your fault he was so ridiculously charming, and handsome, and kind. Nor was it your fault that he somehow always seemed to know exactly the drink you needed for your current mood–after that first day, you’d never had him hand you something unsavory again… well, at least that was intended to be enjoyable.

Every once in a while you’d come in during a particularly slow spell, when there was no one else around and Garreth–alongside his coworkers–were clearly extremely bored. It was days like these when you’d get to try his little experiments.

You’d see him furrow his brow, deep in thought, and then wander from place to place in the store, tossing various syrups, powders, and milks together in incredibly interesting combinations. Yes, interesting was definitely the word to describe them; sometimes they were spectacular, but other times… not so much.

“Oh my god, Gar, this is absolutely disgusting.” 

He had called you over a few moments prior, insisting you try his most recent mixture. You didn’t know what was in it, but it wasn’t good. It was almost slimy in texture, and the flavor certainly left something to be desired. Through your wince, you saw the twinkle in his eye. The bastard knew it wasn’t going to be good but he had you try it anyway.

Attempting to hide the grin that threatened to poke through, his face had twisted into a look of mock betrayal. “How could you say such a thing? I poured my heart and soul into this. You wound me, love.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at the nickname but you did your best to play it off, grinning at him. “Well, perhaps you should pour a little less of it next time, that might help with the texture issue.” He’d scoffed at you playfully, and the memory of his playful expression is still one of your favorites.

His expression was eerily similar as he stood beside your little table, eying the books you had spread about from your research. 

“Garreth! I didn’t realize you were here, I never saw you walk in.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been here for hours. I would’ve said hello earlier, but you looked focused and I didn’t want to bother you. However,” he paused, “it was about time for my break and I noticed you looked only inches away from violence, so I figured I should come intervene. Distract you with my relentless charm and all that.” His grin was contagious, and you found yourself smiling fondly at him.

“You should well know by now that I’m a pacifist,” you quipped back. “Violence would never be my first reaction. You wouldn’t have anything to worry about until after I’ve wallowed in self despair for at least 30 minutes.” He sat down in the chair opposite you and it’s not until he placed the cup and plate on the surface in front of you that you realized he’d been holding them. “What’s this?”

“A refill, and some sustenance. Figured you could use them, based on the fact that I haven’t seen you move in the entire time I’ve been here.” Your heart gives a little squeeze at the gesture as you take in the items. He had, in fact, brought you another coffee and the pastry that he by now knew to be your favorite.

“I can’t accept this, Garreth. I didn’t pay for them.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Don’t bother resisting, you know I won’t stop pestering you until you’ve eaten.” 

You relented with a sigh, taking a bite. “Happy now?” you mumbled.

He smirked at you. “Happier. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s frustrating you so much. Maybe clearing your mind of it will help you make some progress.”

You proceeded to rant to the ginger about the articles you’d been reading, the roadblocks you’d been encountering, and the various other issues you’d been having.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult for people to have some common sense, y’know? It’s not so hard to realize ‘Hey, perhaps if you can’t sex an individual via this bone without population specific numbers, perhaps we shouldn’t try to sex an individual of an entirely different species.’ You’d think that’d be easy!” Garreth nodded along, a small smile playing at his lips. “And this one!” you gestured to an article on your computer, which you’d reopened part-way through your rant to show him evidence of your problems, “in this one, they try and argue that grave goods can be used to accurately sex an individual, which might be fine in some populations, but it’s a know fact that gender and sex variance is a common occurrence in this population.”

You finally paused to take a breath, and you realized that you didn’t really have much more to say. “And… and yeah that’s about it actually. There you have it.” You glanced up at his face, mildly surprised by the expression he harbored. It seemed to be a combination of amusement and… fondness?

“I do hope you know I don’t know what any of that means. Do you feel better though?” He rested his chin on his hand, hair falling just slightly in front of his face.

You immediately nodded in response. “Yeah, actually. Loads. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, love. Now, I do believe my break is over, so I should get back to it, but good luck on your paper. I believe in you.” A wink was sent in your direction before he turned and walked back behind the counter, deftly tying his apron behind his back.

With that, you dove back into writing. You were almost surprised at how much easier the words came to you now that you’d gotten all the swirling irritations out of your brain–before you knew it, you’d surpassed the page minimum, wrapped up all your thoughts, and read through it a few times to make sure there weren’t any errors. Thoroughly pleased with your work, you grinned and threw your hands up. “I’m done!” You turned your head around, searching for the smile Garreth was surely throwing in your direction. You weren’t surprised to find you were correct. “And with…” you turned back to check the time, “45 minutes to spare!”

Wait a second…

45 minutes to spare… that meant that it was 9:15. You turned to glare accusingly at Garreth.

“Don’t you guys close at 9?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Technically, yeah. I was supposed to kick you out 15 minutes ago. But you looked so focused and I could tell you were close to done. I didn’t wanna be the reason you lost your stride. Besides,” his usual cocky grin came back to his face. “I’m not sure you could rob this place if you tried.”

The boy turned back to mopping the floor, ignoring your huffed “hey” in response. You began packing up your belongings in a hurry, trying to get out of his hair as quickly as possible. Despite your efforts, though, he had still managed to finish closing before you were completely ready to go. 

“I’m so sorry Gar, I really should have been paying closer attention to the time. I didn’t mean to be an imposition.” You rushed the words out as you exited the building in front of him. His only response at first was a small huff of amusement.

His words came a minute later as he turned back to lock the door to the building behind him. “As if you could ever be an imposition. Any time spent in your presence is time well spent.” You couldn’t even begin to process what those words meant as you took in the parking lot, empty except for one single car. A string of curses swiftly left your lips. If you’d thought yourself stupid earlier when you struggled to write your paper, it was nothing compared to how stupid you’d felt in that moment.

You’d completely forgotten that you’d taken the bus today. And in your time-blindness, you’d also forgotten that the bus stopped running at 8.

You glanced over at Garreth beside you, and let out a frustrated sigh at his barely concealed laughter. He knew that you sometimes took the bus, and by the lack of car in the parking lot belonging to you, it hadn’t taken him more than a moment to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t look so down, it’s not like I’d let you walk. Get in the car.” You immediately began protesting, not wanting to burden him any more than you already had this evening. “It wasn’t a question, get in the car. It’s too far back to campus for you to walk during the day, let alone at night. I’d be the world’s biggest asshole if I let a pretty individual walk home alone after dark. Get in.”

You conceded with a sigh, walking around to the passenger side door. “You think I’m pretty?” you grinned, trying to joke away the nerves you felt at getting in his car.

Sure, you’d become pretty close throughout the term, but your interactions had always, always been limited to that building. And now here you were, getting into a car with the guy you’d been crushing on for months. 

“If you’re just now noticing, then maybe you’re dumber than I gave you credit for,” came his snarky reply. He got in the car and grinned at you over the console. You hoped he couldn’t see your cheeks turn red in the dark. His gaze held yours for a beat too long and you looked away nervously. He cleared his throat before starting the car. “Where to?”

You directed him to your place, basking comfortably in the silence of the car in between instructions. Against your better efforts, though, you also found yourself staring at him. It was such an odd thing to find attractive, you thought, but the sight of him driving made your heart do a flip. 

You were admiring how his gentle features looked under the red of a stoplight when he turned to glance at you and caught you. “See something you like?” 

“And what if I do?” You replied, lips quirking into a smile. You had no idea where this bold streak came from, but you weren’t complaining. He didn’t reply immediately, focused on turning into the parking lot of your building. He parked, and then turned to you. 

“I’m less concerned about the ‘what if you do’s and more concerned about the ‘what if you don’t’s if I’m being honest.” Your face twisted slightly in confusion as you tried to decipher his meaning.

“I- what? I don’t understand.” Stumbling over your words, it took you far longer than it should have to realize how much closer he’d gotten to you. 

“What I mean,” he said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper, “is that if you don’t, you need to tell me now because otherwise I’m about to do something really really stupid.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said in reply. “I see.” You wet your lips nervously but didn’t move away from him, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. “Well, there’s not really a good way to know if it’s stupid or not until you’ve done it.”

Apparently that was all the approval he needed, because the next thing you knew his lips were on yours and his hand was cupping the back of your neck and a low whine sounded in the back of your throat. This was happening. Oh my god this was happening.

He pulled back after a moment, panting just slightly. He was nervous, you realized. You’d almost never seen him nervous before, but right now, in this moment, you were sure that’s what the expression on his face was. 

You let out a soft giggle that apparently eased his nerves, causing him to break out into a wide smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, was it as stupid as I thought it was?”

“Verdict is still out,” you said with a grin. “I’ll have to let you know tomorrow. You work?” 

“Same time as usual, yeah.” He chuckled at the smile on your face as you unbuckled yourself from the car. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you know then. And maybe after you’re out, we could go get dinner or something. If the jury rules in your favor, that is.” You grin at him over your shoulder as you get out of the car.

The last thing Garreth sees as he pulls out of your lot is you pressing your fingers softly against your own lips, grinning like an idiot. And though he’d never admit it, in his head he was doing the same.

#garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fandom #garreth weasley au #modern!au #modern garreth weasley

[trollprincess]

Okay, so some of you might not know this because I did this before I returned to Tumblr from the bird site, BUT. Last year I dictated almost two entire books to my phone.

Let me explain. One of my jobs is a twelve-hour weekend night shift. Six PM to six AM Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so thirty-six hours with the other four hours paid just as long as we do the entire weekend. I first took it so I could have the rest of the week off, and then proceeded to go back to work at dog camp those days. For the most part, over the last five years, I have only have Mondays completely off solely because that’s when my therapy sessions are.

Anyway, my weekend job is full-time, dog camp is part-time. The weekend job is factory work, making helmets, a lot of which are for the military. (Which, as a pacifist, I manage to stomach because hey, it’s just protective gear.) The thing is, like a lot of manufacturing work, it’s boring and repetitive. Think about how bored you are after five or so hours of an eight-hour shift. Now imagine it’s one o’clock in the morning, you still have five hours to work, and you would literally rather shove nails in your eyes than work. It sucks.

Meanwhile, my free time is spent trying to work at my third job (making @disasterarea-podcast) and attempting to work on getting published. I had all these grand ideas about getting traditionally published back in my twenties, and now I’m 46 and I’m struggling just to come up with any ideas at all a lot of the time. Three jobs doesn’t help. Depression and anxiety don’t help. So for a while there, I had terrible writer’s block when it came to my novels.

So last year, I decided to try something. I have these massive baby-pink noise-canceling Bluetooth gaming headphones with a mic which I wear to work. Why not try dictating a first draft to my phone? Obviously it wouldn’t be exact, since voice-to-text dictation isn’t perfect under the best of situations, and certainly not with loud factory noises around you. But I tried it on dictating notes for my podcast a few times and it worked pretty well, all things considered. And a bad first draft is still a first draft.

So I figured, fuck it, and one night I just started dictating a story off the top of my head. No preparation, no outlining, no worldbuilding - just pantsing HARD with nothing but an annoyance following a Teen Wolf rewatch and a resolution not to edit until after I churned out a first draft.

It took fifty-one days.

Eighty thousand words or so later, I had a dreadful first draft which needed an absolute fuckton of editing and continuity correction and character work. BUT I had a finished first draft of a novel. Which is something I hadn’t had in a good long while.

So I tried it again for NaNoWriMo. I got up to 65k words. So I won NaNoWriMo, but I put the story aside because I hit a bit of a wall. Still! That’s almost two full fiction manuscripts in one year, AND the nonfiction memoir I wrote about my road trip to disaster sites during the pandemic. 2022 was a good writing year.

So I did what I do with first drafts and put them aside for a while. I knew they were awful. I knew they needed a ton of work. And maybe that was a tad intimidating, which is why I only JUST picked up the NaNoWriMo first draft to work on it and finish it off. It’s queer, it’s got time travel, it’s got disasters. It is right up my fucking alley. I may be just a tiny bit obsessed with that story.

Unsurprisingly, going through it now is taking more than a little while. I sit down, I spend an hour working on it, I maaaaaaybe get two paragraphs polished. If that.

But the fact that I’m working on ANY fiction is kind of remarkable. And fingers crossed, maybe I can get this damn thing, and the other manuscript, AND my road trip book, finished and polished over the next year so I can submit the fuck out of them.

NOW. Someone send me a twenty-pound bag of rooibos vanilla chai and ten pounds of red licorice laces. Mama’s gonna need it. *cracks knuckles*

#writing

[hevanderson]

six sentence sunday !! nobody tagged me, i just wanted to do it LOL but i've not seen anyone be tagged for this so im going to tag people for once :-3 this could be for sketches or writing so i'm tagging: @boltgunkiller @cryscendo @kurtsascot @unholy-fabray @porcelainvino and anyone else who wants to participate!!

this is . way more than six sentences, and is more like seven paragraph sunday ^^; but this is an excerpt from lis au ch2 :-D

Blaine looked in the corner, their corner. Empty. He smiled. A jukebox stood right by the booth he and Kurt always sat at. It hadn't worked for years, and he doubted Carole got it fixed, but it added to the atmosphere. Music still played, but he could spot speakers tucked sneakily where the ceiling met the walls. An Amy Whitehouse song was on. He slid into his seat. From where the booth was, the music was never too loud or too quiet. He thought they picked the best seats in the diner. He looked down at the table, the wood pattern so familiar he thought he could still trace it from memory. A small piece of graffiti was etched into the corner. It was hardly able to be seen, so much so that Blaine doubted Carole had even noticed, and she'd been working here for as long as he was alive. In the tiny handwriting of a twelve year old Kurt Hummel, Blaine read, 'K + B' and smiled. His head shot up when the sound of heels clicking started approaching him. Those heels were the same, too– black slip ones with an incline of only about an inch or two. They belonged to Carole Hudson. Sure enough, she was standing right by his table. Her hair was different now (it was dark brown when it used to be primarily blonde), and she looked older, but otherwise, she was just like she was five years prior. She was dressed in her work uniform, a light blue pencil skirt that was just a few shades off from the seats with a matching button-up and a white apron to complete the look. Her own personal touches to the outfit, black tights and a hair tie to pull her cropped hair back, were the same as always. She held a pot of coffee and a white mug in her hands. “Blaine,” she greeted warmly, “I haven't seen you in ages! It's nice to see you again.” She set down the mug in front of him. She poured the coffee into it. Hot steam rose into the air as it filled the cup, and the scent of freshly roasted coffee became stronger. “It's nice to see you, too, Miss Hudson,” he replied politely. Carole turned the coffee pot upright again, stopping the flow. She put one hand on her hip. “I told you when you were younger, and I'll tell you now, just Carole is fine,” she reminded. “You're grown up now, too, right?” He nodded. His hands wrapped around the mug. Warmth spread through him. “Legally, sure,” he said with a joking tone. “I'm eighteen.”

#lis au #my post

[moral-terpitude]

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed - part 5

Word Count: 905

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage/ infant loss.

No readmore because I don’t want to lose paragraphs. It’s still giving me problems. Sorry.

[Masterlist] [Previous Part]

Tommy sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He hadn’t slept the rest of the night, and you not coming to bed had kept him tossing and turning anyway.

He knew he had fucked up as soon as the words left his mouth, knew he said the wrong thing, and felt like shit as soon as he realized it.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through until he clicked on Finn’s name. He thought about calling the florist first, but he knew if you hadn’t come to bed that sending flowers with an apology wouldn’t even begin to fix it.

He would have to truly go to the source of the problem.

“Hello?” Finn answered, voice cracking as he spoke. 10AM and the phone ringing was the only reason he woke up.

Tommy shook his head.

“What the fuck is your problem, Finn?”

“Morning to you too, Tom?”

“Fuck off. You come into my house in the middle of the night, piss off my wife, and then want a warm welcome?”

He groaned, the sound of sheets kicking around before he spoke, “I don’t remember a thing, Tommy. I swear.”

“You don’t remember a thing? How does telling Y/N that she’s not Charlie’s mother sound? Ring any fucking bells? Because I don’t even know what you said, but I know you fucked up.”

Finn grumbled.

“It’s time you start being responsible for your actions, Finn. Everyday I feel like you’re pushing against everything I’ve built trying to fucking topple it over.”

“Tommy, I’m not—“

“Then start fucking acting like it and row the boat in the same direction as the rest of us!”

“Okay, Tommy.”

“I’ve got you going in to the old BSA factory starting this afternoon. 12 hours shift, six days a week. Should keep you out of trouble and help you repay all the money you owe Arthur and I.”

“But—“

“Finn, you talk big and throw our name around like you’re the one that’s made it mean something, but you need to start acting like it, because right now, you’re far from it.”

The line was silent as Tommy waited for another round of protesting but none came.

“Now, think of a good apology for Y/N, and get the fuck out of my house.”

He ended the call, tossing the phone to the far side of the desk.

You hadn’t messaged, hadn’t called, and there hadn’t even been an email sent that he’d been CC’d in on that morning.

He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars. He hadn’t tried to call you either. What was there to say? He had fucked up, he knew it, and he feared one of these days you wouldn’t accept his apologies any more.

Two sharp knocks at the door came before Lizzie peeked in, “Everything okay?”

Tommy shook his head, leaning against the open window before lighting a cigarette, “No, but we’ll manage.”

She hummed, setting a folder down on the desk, “Want me to check on her, I need some papers signed anyway.”

“Don’t make it obvious, yeah?”

Lizzie nodded, departing silently.

Looking down at the people traversing the sidewalk, he just wanted to rewind everything, go back to Sunday and enjoy you and the peace and quiet of the house all over again. Back to normal.

He knew how much the attitude of other people toward you not being Charlie’s biological mother had killed you in the beginning. The school he had been in, before being transferred to a better one, had always given you issues picking him up. Prying mothers asking questions that were none of their business. Letting you know they could never love someone else’s child like their own.

It was supposed to be easier when you got married.

He watched in a somber mood the rain started, as if the world knew how he felt on the inside.

You had never treated Charlie like he wasn’t your own. When he would have a nightmare, when he was still small, you always put him in the middle of the bed to keep him safe. You bandaged cuts and took care of bloody noses.

You had decided when you ended up in the hospital, terrible stomach pain, and the result in the end only being able to look at the 12 week formed baby once before throwing up that the two of you would just tell Charlie it had been a stomach problem that put you there.

No one else in the family needed to know.

(Of course Polly knew; about six weeks along she had told you to take a test, but you had assumed you had missed your week just due to stress.)

You were the one that held everything together for the two of them, now.

You had been the one that warned Tommy that Finn was going to be a bad influence on Charlie long before the issues actually started.

He knew you deserved much more than a proper apology. He needed to listen and start putting his own household first, stop trying to fix everything else.

Tommy rose from the window frame, jaw tense before resigning himself to the fact that calling the florist wouldn’t be a fix, it wouldn’t even be an apology. But it would be a start.

#tw miscarriage #tw child loss #tommy shelby x yn #modern au #modern!tommy shelby #modern tommy shelby #modern peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic