#six sentence whatever

[bookish-bogwitch]

Six Sentence Solstice

Helloooo! Thank you to everyone who has been tagging me over the past few months. I’ve been around but haven’t felt much like sharing; I usually hate whatever I’m writing until the first draft is done, but I finally have a first draft of Basil Pitch’s Diary to edit, and feel suddenly excited to share.

Next week I am hosting my family for Christmas and will be cosplaying as a Dickens character by roasting a goose. The goose chase (nearest goose farm is 30 miles away) will take a lot of my energy tomorrow, so we're here a day early. Festive solstice, y'all. Here are are six fifteen sentences.

“Why are you being so nice to him?” Had not told Niall about the truce with Snow. Could not tell him about the Mage dropping Snow discarding Snow like a broken appliance. Obviously Snow was better off without him, but Snow didn’t see it that way. I didn’t want to embarrass him.  And I didn’t want to watch Niall cock his head and say Oh, Baz … “I’m not.” “You gave him an answer in Magic Words.” Miss Possibelf had been lecturing on how spells lose potency with disuse and had called on Snow to name an example. Did not think anyone had heard me lean toward him and whisper Deez nuts. “Power move.” “And at lunch the other day,” Niall pressed, “you spelled mustard off his tie.”  Fuck. Had thought Niall had been distracted, like everyone else in the dining hall, by the spectral pixie grandmother reducing our classmate to sparkly tears. I’d been haunted, too, by the image of neglected baby Simon, ignored by his caretakers, slathering himself in condiments.

Broken appliance inspo was my vacuum cleaner, which broke last night after years of faithful service. Maybe I’ll get it fixed, or maybe I’ll just murder it and steal its magic.

Tagging @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thewholelemon @monbons

@mooncello @skeedelvee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @ileadacharmedlife

@fatalfangirl @artsyunderstudy @emeryhall @raenestee @ic3que3n

@whogaveyoupermission @stitchy-queerista @blackberrysummerblog @alexalexinii @gekkoinapeartree

@brilla-brilla-estrellita @shrekgogurt @scone-lover @nightimedreamersworld @stardustasincocaine

@martsonmars @onepintobean @agni-ashes @aristocratic-otter @alleycat0306

@fight-surrender @theearlgreymage @thehoneyedhufflepuff @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold

@technetiumai @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @theimpossibledemon @comesitintheclover

@goblindad-emoshit @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess @forabeatofadrum @nausikaaa

@johnwgrey @prettygoododds @run-for-chamo-miles @best--dress @arthurkko

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

I was going to work on this more during my shift but then I remembered it is Oscars day and I’m chronically addicted to awards shows 😔 anyways here’s the intro to my grandekofi bar au <3

~~~~~~

Two drinks. Just two.

That was how many drinks it took for Dame to admit she was in love with Tia. Well, admit it to herself at least.

She stared at her reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror of the bar Hannah had dragged them all out to for her birthday. Even with the dingy lighting, Dame could see the flush of her cheeks, left over from when Tia had wrapped her arms around her waist as they waited at the bar. It wasn’t long after that that she had excused herself.

[fishtank32]

Lmk doodle page that turned into a dragonfruit doodle page. I love them sm.

[avatarskywalker78]

It's Six Sentence Sunday!!! And I've have been working hard on my Aquafam AU - which is going to be a series of fics now, by the way - and I nearly cried at one point which means I'm doing something right! I've got over 4k words and here's an excerpt from later in the fic, where Orm is just about to get the (metaphorical) rug pulled out from under him after he airs what he thinks he knows - for context, Arthur's just informed him that Vulko didn't tell him what had happened to Atlanna at first, and that's why he was so pissed at him.

“Even so, you were planning to take the throne, so he must’ve—”

��Woah, woah, woah, hold on a second, little brother – what do you mean, planning to take the throne?”

“I don’t see how that can possibly be unclear.” Orm huffed in annoyance, folding his arms. “I know you’ve always wanted the throne, Arthur, it wasn’t exactly a surprise when you challenged me—”

“I only challenged you so you’d stop attacking my home!”

Orm just stared for a moment. “What?” He finally asked.

He thought Arthur would snap at him, but instead his brother looked…almost worried.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told,” Arthur said slowly, “but I didn’t want any of this, alright? I never did – even when I was younger, all I wanted was to meet Mom again more than anything else, and when I thought that was no longer an option I wasn’t interested. God, Orm, if you’d just left things alone you’d still be King, you know that, right? Hell, if I didn’t think it would cause a shit-load of problems I’d give it back to you right now."

(Poor Orm does not take two decades of being lied to very well.)

[vampire-named-gampire]

Six sentence sunday

Since I don't spam other people with my writing enough as it is already. Two people brought up Arrival of the birds to me this week, and it reminded me that technically, I have a sequel in the works. Then I went and wrote a bit more of the sequel. I'm hoping to finish it, but I don't make any promises. But here's a bit from Chapter 1, Baz's POV

🦆🦆🦆

I place a carton of oat milk (yes, I made Snow switch over) and a jar of sugar in the centre of the table just as the kettle clicks. As the group goes around, pouring their tea, I turn towards the sink, taking a moment to compose myself. It is then that I see Snow’s car pulling up in the driveway.

Oh, thank fuck.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say to my guests and head towards the foyer to meet Snow by the front door.

He parks and exits the car, holding two plastic bags that I know are filled to the brim with bird seed.

“Hey,” he smiles, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “Why are all those cars parked in the road?”

🦆🦆🦆

On second thought, I think Simon the conservation ecologist would probably use tote bags, not plastic bags. But then again, he also drank real milk until Baz came along so... 🤷‍♂️

[fatalfangirl]

Happy various Spring celebrations! Thank you for the tags @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @martsonmars, @larkral, and @hushed-chorus.

I got a good amount of writing in yesterday and only have maybe 500-700 more words to go for ch 5 of More Than Friends. So fingers fucking crossed, people. With luck this baby will be done today (finally, good lord).

All that's left is finishing this chapter's smut and adding Penny's debut scene!

Here's some smut lead in for you under the cut. But first! Tagging @whatevertheweather, @moodandmist, @cutestkilla, @bookish-bogwitch, @facewithoutheart, @captain-aralias, @shrekgogurt, @palimpsessed, @artsyunderstudy, and @aristocratic-otter.

SIMON

“I told you, I’m here for you.” The words are quiet in the shared space. “Anytime.”

He rinses his hands and towels them dry before asking, “For sex?”

I close what little distance is between us and nose at his neck. Baz’s head falls forward at the contact and a thin gasp catches in his throat. 

“For anything,” I say into his skin. “Whatever you want.”

I can hear his breathing pick up. I can feel him heating under me as I shift to press against his back. 

“Is sex what you want?”

He nods. 

[polutrope]

six several sentence Sunday Tuesday

Tagged by @melestasflight @thelordofgifs @welcomingdisaster @sallysavestheday. I have been happily enjoying your sentences while evasively twiddling my thumbs and looking at the ceiling because I am a Perfectionist and Do Not Share unfinished things. But I was seized by a real cracky idea for @silmsmutweek tonight (Day 1 prompts: Solo, Voyeurism, Rarepairs), so now I have six sentences that are planted firmly enough in the realm of the ridiculous that perfection does not apply.

Below the cut for offensively bad dirty talk and abuse of extended metaphor.

She peered over the lip of the opening in the floor, took note of the two sets of feet facing each other near the balcony railing, and quickly ducked back down. “Where have you been?” someone whispered shortly. (Artanis would surely have recognised the voice, she assured herself later, had her keen perception not been blunted by the roar of blood in her ears.) “Never mind,” replied the deeper voice of her dance partner. “I am here now, am I not? Come closer, let me show you something.” A whine of protest turned to a groan of pleasure. “Mmm,” said the first voice. “So you have made up for lost time. I am afraid I am not quite so prepared.” The smack of lips, another moan. “Worry not, my golden flower bud. You know I will tend you as diligently as I must, until your petals are all unfurled.” A groan, both irritation and pleasure. “Longer, no doubt,” the other said. "You will wait until I am a fruit nearly rotting on the vine.” Shuffling of feet and then the clatter of metal on the tiles. “Not rotting, no. Only until you are swollen with nectar, so that I might lave sweet juices from you with the barest stroke of my tongue.”

Uuuhhh I'm sorry for tagging you on this filth but @niennawept @valasania-the-pale @glorf1ndel @elentarial @i-am-a-lonely-visitor @maglors-anion-gap if you have not yet done this and would like to, please consider this your invitation.

[mymanymerrymuses]

Weird things my family has said as sentence starters - Part 6???

"Let's hope it's a peanut butter covered brick." "Oh shut up (name), I'm not going to eat your fucking biscuits." "Murdering people does not make you better at playing the clarinet. I shouldn't have to say that." "This is value for money! You pay for an expensive hotel room, you get big rocks to look at!" "I have travelled far and collected nothing." "My internal compass does not spin." "Bunnies hate fire. They see it as a rival." "None of you mess with my big serious hand." "You don't need your logic in fish conversation." "I love you gazillions, but you're a sneaky little bitch." "Never lick your date on the first night." "I know her name is 'Something Something'." "It's a distinct lack of noodles is what it is." "Where's the button that plays Lady Gaga?" "I'm going to throw this banana and there's nothing you can do about it." "I thought there was a rabbit left but there's just a chicken." "Sausages aren't famous for their intelligence." "What are hips if not the shoulders of the legs?" "I should hope your Dairy Milk isn't throbbing!" "Your ear is not a water gun." "That's one gassy lemon." "That's the greenest brown I've ever seen." "All I want is an absurd amount of ham." "I personally love it when vases scream." "Don't brush your teeth with spaghetti, kids."

[strideofpride]

Six Sentence Sunday

I was gonna share something from the next chapter of like a rolling stone but then I decided to be mean and share something from a work that won't be ready for many months

“Oh, you’ll never guess who reached out to me and Nate today.” “Who?” “Blair.” Dan raises an eyebrow at that. “Blair Blair? Your Blair?” “No, Tony Blair. Yes, my Blair.” “Wow. Chuck letting her off the leash?” Serena looks back at him, suddenly puzzled. “They got divorced months ago. How’d you miss that?”  “I don’t know,” Dan shrugs. “I haven’t really been keeping up with the goings-on of Blair Waldorf Bass.” Serena can’t help the little thrill of satisfaction that goes through her hearing that. “Who’s Blair?” Amelia asks her. It’s the first thing Amelia has said to her all day. “What do you mean, you don’t remember your Aunt Blair?” An uncomfortable feeling settles in Serena’s stomach. Even at their worst, Serena never thought there’d be a day when her children didn’t know who Blair was.

[piratefalls]

48 and 49 for the fic writer meme? >:3 💖

thank you friend! (i hope you got my ask because i think Tumblr keeps eating all of my messages lol.)

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

last fic I read was and they were tentmates! (oh my god they were tentmates) while going through the shorter fics in my marked for later, and I need everyone to read it tbh. it was just what i needed. give me all the "i know you think i hate you but really your presence just has me in a constant state of gay panic" fics.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

the idea of me working on anything is laughable these days because my brain is dumb, but I do still go back on one thing periodically and that's my person of interest reese/finch post-series fic, so have some of that. it's more than a few lines, but still think this is one of my better works, unfinished as it is. (for context: reese has survived the finale and hears a payphone ringing in the middle of the night.)

Reese reaches out quickly, pulling the phone away from the tower before he can talk himself out of it. He puts the receiver to his ear and, after a long pause, he grins, overwhelmed to hear the welcome sound of the Machine - of Root - on the other end. She quietly gives him an address on the Upper West Side, near the Hudson, if he remembers correctly, before she disconnects. Reese rests his head against the booth, sad that the warmth of her voice is gone already, only alive in the Machine she died protecting. He remembers her voice in his ear that day on the rooftop, assuring him that she would look out for Harold after he was gone, trying to comfort him with promises that Finch would be well cared for in his absence. And maybe, if this location is what he thinks it is, she was able to keep her word.

But this means something else as well: their plan worked. Samaritan is gone and the Machine is in control again. The thought of one Orwellian surveillance technology having beaten out another shouldn’t make him nearly giddy, but he can go about living his life again, the one he had when all he worried about were numbers and whose turn it was to wash Bear.

It takes him forty-five minutes of walking and doubling back three separate times before he makes it back to the relative safety of his apartment. Samaritan may be gone, but his paranoia is eternal. He doesn’t bother to sweep for bugs, though, just locks the door, kicks off his shoes, and drops into bed. 

It’s the best night of rest he’s had since Mexico.

questions for fic writers. ask!

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

I asked my editor what section to post but then my computer crapped out on me and I couldn’t do any of the edits she made 😔 also she never got around to telling me which part to post so uh. Up to me. Time to find a section that doesn’t have too many edits to post since I can’t actually do any of them until I fix my laptop 😭

~~~~~~

“Can I help you?” Marcia asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

It was too dark to make out Anetra’s expression clearly, but somehow Marcia knew she was blushing. “So I had a lot of fun tonight,” she started lamely.

Marcia couldn’t help but smile. “I did too.” Anetra was silent. “Is that it?”

“I guess. I just… I really liked it. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“Of course we can. Now go to sleep,” Marcia giggled.

[theresthesnitch]

For the three scentence au: Wolfstar in a muggle post-apocalyptic world?

Out of nowhere, Sirius was pulled into a small room--a house, he realized belatedly--that he'd barely noticed against the rock wall of the cliff. A hand pressed over his mouth with an ordered don't move and a body pushing him firmly into the wall as they waited for the sounds of the Walker to leave the area.

When the man finally moved his hand from Sirius's mouth and took a small step away--which he waited far longer to do than Sirius really thought was necessary--he smiled at Sirius with a dimple in his chin and a crooked incisor. "I'm glad I gotcha. I'd hate for you to be eaten before we had a chance to meet. I'm Remus."

Send me a pairing and an AU, and I'll write you a three sentence fic.

[boltlightning]

Five sentence drabble prompt: 82 - Can You Hear Me? with Cutler Beckett and whichever other character(s) you choose :)

82. can you hear me?

In the interest in restoring some visage of hospitality around Port Royal, Weatherby Swann is released from his bonds and allowed to dress and act in society as he would; subsequently, he invites Lord Beckett for an awkward, formal, begrudging tour of his manor. “The library,” Governor Swann says as they cross the threshold into a grand room with walls lined with shelves, and tucked into a small office just off the way is a sickeningly charming reading nook, set up and waiting for Elizabeth Swann’s return. The stack of books on the side table is fitting (well-thumbed novels, pirate histories, technical maritime tomes clearly borrowed from Commodore Norrington) and most will certainly aid Miss Swann on her ill-fated adventures on the Caribbean. Beckett's sister Jane would have loved a nook such as this, somewhere sunny where she could pen letters, before the illness took her and all the light in the world with. “Can you hear me, my lord?” Swann asks, and peeks his head around the corner — just as Beckett rights himself, forcibly shuts the past away, and drags himself back into the present. “We should move on.”

send me a prompt, get a drabble ✨

[lazinesswrites]

From that TBB-fic I'm using to procrastinate on my thesis, in which Hunter is discovering the meaning of the word "bittersweet":

“Cid’s got a job for us,” Hunter tells the others while they’re preparing dinner. Preparing dinner, not just heating up ration packs. It’s… a work in progress. But it’s nice, the three of them working together on something low-stake, while Omega gets to play with her new friends. So domestic, Crosshair would probably sneer at it all, but he’d still take over stirring the pot when Wrecker gets distracted yelling encouragements out the window to Omega. Echo would snark at them both, because something about Crosshair’s general attitude brought out a similar side of Echo.

[kitkatt0430]

Okay, so it's actually Monday, but I was busy yesterday. :D

The still as of yet unnamed sequel to Closer and Closer Still has stagnated a bit during my struggle with an ongoing wasp invasion of my house (check out 'the wasp invasion' tag on my main for more details if you're curious) but there has been progress all the same.

Eobard’s heart was suddenly thudding in his chest too fast. Did Barry know what he’d just said? Just implied about his feelings for the Reverse Flash? Someone… someone he loved…

“Let’s get dinner.” The words just slipped out without permission. “My treat. You’ve had a difficult day.”

Eobard is all worried that Barry will deliberately slow his own progress to keep the Reverse Flash around, but maybe he should be worried about his own resolve to go home should Barry ever confess being in love with Eobard directly.

My Flash Finale Fix-it has also been suffering under the wasp invasion writing-block stress, but it's inching in the direction I want it to go so that's good. It's Westhallen endgame and Barry's not exactly being subtle about his feelings about Eddie. Though Eddie's not connecting the dots yet because he knows a.) Barry's married now and b.) Barry's always been in love with Iris. Just Iris. Right?

And then he asked, "what's the Negative Speed Force?"

Barry's turn to grimace.  "Either it's an artificial Speed Force that Eobard created in the far flung future or it's the Negative pole to the Positive represented by the Speed Force I get my powers from.  And, honestly, the first explanation makes more sense as Eobard's ego talking because he thought he created something that he actually just woke up."

That got a snort of amusement from Eddie.  "When he kidnapped me, he ranted on and on about how I wasn't a scientist or a politician and didn't live up to his expectations.  Sounded like my parents, like my achievements only mattered based on how they reflected on him.  Or them.  I hate to say it, but the ego is a Thawne family trait."

"Skipped you, then," Barry said, gently squeezing Eddie's hand in his.

Barry's been holding Eddie's hand the entire time they've been sitting on the couch in future!Joe's house.

By the time I get to Eddie's PoV, he's a lot calmer about what's going on than canon!Eddie was. He's been dead and it's not like he didn't realize it'd end up being Barry that Iris would most likely move on with in time - Eddie just hadn't expected to suddenly be alive in that future and it's being dropped in the middle of a point in time where he knows neither of them really need him that makes him sad.

I've also been working, on and off again, on the next entry in my Flash Back series. This entry would be set right after the now altered events of Flash Back in S2. In which Barry's memories of the new timeline have filtered in alongside his memories of the original (to him, anyway) timeline.

Eddie's alive now and still engaged to Iris. Ronnie is alive and gone with Stein to join the Legends, which is straining his relationship with Caitlin. But at least they're alive.

“Without me, Eobard Thawne couldn’t exist anymore…” And Barry can see those wheels turning in Eddie’s mind.

So Barry hugged him. Too tight, maybe. “If Eobard dogs my steps for the rest of my life, I don’t care. Not as long as you’re here and safe. You are worth more than you know, Eddie.”

Eddie hugged back, a shaky breath let out against Barry’s shoulder. “Got it,” he promised softly.

I didn't go in to this series intending Westhallen, but... I am a sucker for that ship. I can't guarantee it'll go that way, but the hints of it are there now. (All I really intended was one-sided EoBarry on Eobard's side and Barry recognizing that things between them are really weird for two people who hate each other.)

[anxietyfrappuccino]

i was meant to be an artist not whatever the fuck my technical writing professor is forcing me to be rn (angry, anxiety ridden, and confused)