#six ways to sunday fanfiction

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Hi! Thanks for the tags @monbons and @artsyunderstudy!

I've actually been writing this week which means I finally feel like I can share again. Also peep the new banner, it matches the new green of the rest of my account. (Just don't look too closely at the flower, i drew that really quickly and i think the green ruined it but oh well).

I have some ideas that I want to do for the COC! Thinking of ideas for short fics has been really fun and refreshing. I don't have anything that feels solild enough to share yet, but just know i've got something cooking.

And I've been writing (oh so slowly) more of The Way We Are, mine and @alexalexinii 's COBB. I hope to post the 3rd chapter soon! Here's a snippet from that (i honestly have no idea which parts i've shared before, so if you've seen this already shhhh no you didn't):

“Can I get you anything?” comes a voice from the kitchen. I turn to find the redhead who opened the door standing with a glass of dark red blood in her hand. My fangs itch behind my gums. Human blood. “No, thank you,” I say, voice clipped. “You sure?” she asks again. “Could get you water? Blood? Tea?” “What kind of blood is that?” I ask, words leaving my mouth in a terrified rush. (It’s a stupid question—I know it’s human.) “Not sure,” she clicks her tongue. “I think it’s… B positive? I can check if you have allergies.”

Next chapter i start throwing the OCs I made for this fic into the mix. i hope people like them!

Tags and Hellos:

@angelsfalling16 @aristocratic-otter @arthurkko @beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog

@bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cccloudsss @cutestkilla

@drowninginships @emeryhall @facewithoutheart @fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur

@horsesarenotdeer @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @larkral

@m1ndwinder @nausikaaa @noblecorgi @onepintobean @prettygoododds

@raenestee @rbkzz @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @shrekgogurt

@skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY (plus picrew)

Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me 😈 anyways I can’t go through the edits for this chapter until I finish a few other writing projects but I PROMISE I will get this chapter out to y’all as soon as I can! We’re in editing phase :) also my friend sent me this picrew and ofc my first instinct was to make rawnsyf anarcia (I can’t decide which one I like better but either way Anetra is crying it just feels right) <33

~~~~~~

Anetra turned around to face Marcia once she had dumped the glass into the trashcan and tossed the towel over the wet carpet. “You can go back to whatever you were working on. You don't have to stare at me like I'm a zoo animal.” Her voice wavered.

Marcia shifted awkwardly, adjusting her sleeve so it lay flat against her arm. “I know you don’t want me to talk to you, but–”

Anetra cut her off. “But nothing.”

[walkawaytall]

Look, this has been living in a draft of a scene that got pulled entirely from my current longfic awhile ago and I like it and I swear I will find a place to use it, but until I do, I’m letting it live here for a little bit, I guess?

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You’ll speak at my funeral, won’t you?”

“We’re not dyin’, so there’s no need to plan that now.”

“Right, but whenever I do. Die, I mean. You’ll speak. You’re the only one that’ll tell the truth.”

Han cleared his throat nervously. “Think everyone’ll have good things to say ‘bout you, Leia.”

“Yes, I know. Good and flowery things. You’ll tell the truth. So everyone’ll know the nice things are real.” She laughed. “My eulogy should start with, ‘Leia Organa was a pain in the ass.’”

Han laughed his deep, genuine laugh, the one Leia liked inspiring most of all. “Shouldn’t I be the one writin’ your eulogy if I’m sayin’ it?”

“I’m offering inspiration to get you started. In case you don’t know what to say.”

“I know what I’d say.”

“Given my funeral a lot of thought, have you?” Leia teased, though the idea made her heart hurt a little.

“No,” Han said quietly. “Just have a lotta stuff I wish I’d said earlier.”

[echo-bleu]

Seven Sentence Sunday

I was tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (thank you!)

I have new WIPs growing like mushrooms currently, so here's a brand new one. It's a Silm canon divergence that starts at "Maglor tries to rescue Maedhros from Angband", but here we're long after that:

“We need help. We need the Valar.” It tears at Maedhros’s throat to even say it, though it’s far from the first time. It feels like a betrayal of all his father stood for, to go begging for the Valar’s help, but they’re out of options. “All the expeditions have been lost,” Elwing points. “What hope is there?” Maedhros reaches into the folds of his gambeson, between the armoured plates. He holds out his hand to her. “Take this to your husband. It might tip the scale.” Elwing stares at the Silmaril glowing in his hand. “You—” “They are good for nothing if we’re all dead. The Valar wanted them once. Maybe if we’re willing to negotiate…” Maedhros stops. The last tendril of the old Oath pulls at his vocal cords, powerless but nonetheless present, as if screaming for his betrayal. “Take it to Eärendil,” he repeats. “Sail to Valinor. Do what we could not.”

tagging @emyn-arnens @polutrope @camille-lachenille @xianvar @pherryt

[jb-nonsense]

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @tiredassmage

Tagging @commander-krios @atlanta--airport @storyknitter and anyone else!!

when u and the guy u banged recently run into ur ex on Hoth

“Doc, this is Kero Synagh, we grew up together.”

 “Just Doc?” Kero asked, raising a brow and the warmth that was in his voice when talking to Leeloa was less.

“Yeah, it’s simple,” Doc told him with a shrug. Despite the distance, Kero had kept a hand on the small of Leeloa’s back. Grew up together? There was something else there, that was for sure. Doc held his hand out, though, pushing back any of those weird thoughts or feelings. “Nice to meet you.”

[eorzeashan]

still having brainrot over Eight and Lana's own commander-and-outlander relationship bc i can't fucking sleep and have to make flop posts, but the day before he leaves is the day they sit down with one another atop his ship, watching the sunrise. (I guess this counts as a WIP whenever but I've slacked so hard this month I don't even remember how or what i've been tagged in...OTL)

they've both been made aware of one another. Lana's incomparably guilty. Eight looks at her and sighs.

"Be proud, Lana Beniko. Yours is the shield that our enemies dashed themselves on, that guaranteed a new future for all those you held dear. If you're at a loss for what to say to me: don't. No other would go so far. That is why we won."

For once in her life, Lana finds no speeches at the tip of her tongue, no ready-made phrasing that does just enough; she merely stares at her friend, (her hand), and stammers.

"I... don't know what to say. Eight, I..."

"I just told you not to." The spy feigns irritation with a roll of his eyes, then cracks a smile at her, faint and fleeting as the breaking dawn. "Neither of us were very good at listening to each other, were we."

An awkward silence descends on them. Lana is visibly discomforted, now made aware of the exact implications of such a statement. Eight had bent over backwards to follow her sense of right and wrong. Eight had devoted everything to heeding her call. She hadn't even known his reasons for doing so until the very end, blinded by her own eagerness to be saved. Her gloved hands grip the edge of their perch, white-knuckling them beneath the leather.

And she'd been none the wiser until she awoke one day to a slightly panicked holocall from base saying Eight was gone.

He'd fled. Deserted. In the traitor Theron's words, as he put it with uncharacteristic gravity to his features, "was it any surprise that he ran away? you used him-- and now he wants nothing to do with you or the Alliance. It's over."

The betrayal had stung almost as much as the revelation. They'd made up by now, but...

"Lana." Eight's voice pulls her out of her morose reverie, clear and lucid as day. His eyes lock with hers, piercing right into her soul. Lana's breath hitches, and his next words punch the air right out of her chest, like a battered hole in a damaged dreadnaught in the vacuum of space.

"Stop it. I know that look. Stop punishing yourself."

He grips her by the shoulders, shockingly earnest for a spy who concealed all emotion. Lana opens her mouth to speak, but instead of words coming forth- something unfathomable flows into her across the bridge of physical and mental contact, whisking her away on the tides of fate.

[walkwithursus]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Taxi (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jim Ignatowski/Tony Banta Characters: Jim Ignatowski, Tony Banta, Vince (Tony's Manager) Additional Tags: Drug Use, Marijuana, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Drinking, Friendship, Minor Injuries, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Penis In Vagina Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Tony Banta Summary:

“I bet sex feels good too,” Tony says, his voice husky. “While you’re high.”

Jim pulls the joint from his lips to speak. “Some drugs are better than sex.”

“Nothing’s better than sex.”

[oceannacaldin]

Six sentences sunday

The next bodyguard in line waited for Top’s nod to step on the mat. Again, Pete lasted longer than what Vegas anticipated but eventually went down again, when he was to slow to avoid a vicious hit to his jaw. He stayed there a few second more, and Vegas noticed the way the room’s mood had shifted, from the mix of professionalism and eagerness to test the new meat, to a mood more befitting a boxing match. Vegas though that without Top’s presence, some of them would have started to bet. And when Pete rose up he must have felt it, because for a second he smiled widely, full of the rush of adrenaline and that expression only faded to concentration when his next opponent stepped inside the ring. It was one of the newer recruits, younger than most people here, less used to their work.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence/ Stitch Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @monbons and @rimeswithpurple!

I've been super busy this week but have managed to do a tiny bit of writing/editing this weekend. I'm working more my COBB, going back and cleaning up the first chapter for the posting date as it creeps closer and closer.

Here's actually six sentences from the beginning of that chapter:

I don’t normally follow cute boys I meet in coffee shops home, but there was something about Simon. He literally ran into my table, knocking my coffee all over my school notes and only barely missing my laptop—I should have thought he was an imbecile.  But he was cute. That was hard to deny. I looked up over the soggy mess that was my notebook to find a golden haired boy with a sheepish smile. He insisted on buying me a new coffee and a sandwich and then we ended up talking.

I promise you this is only a meet-cute and nothing terrible will happen to them. Absolutely zero angst, you know me. All fluff. Only happiness. Would I lie to you?

I also did some crocheting this weekend. I decided to try doing some tapestry crochet again, which I've only done once before but I had so much fun doing it last time so I figured I'd try it again! I've discovered that the only two things I like crocheting are blankets and tapestry crochets. Any other projects I either haven't finished or didn't have as much fun making.

But this is not to say I am good at tapestry crochet. I adapted a pattern I found online to match the colors I have, and I'm not super happy with all the colors turned out, but I wasn't going to buy new yarn for this.

Here's the adapted pattern, an in progress photo of the back, the completed front, and the completed back:

The edges are SO wonky because I am very beginner at tapestry crochet and my tension becomes so tight when I'm changing colors. But I had fun making it so I'm counting it a win!

Tags and Hellos!

@alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @beastmonstertitan

@blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla

@drowninginships @emeryhall @facewithoutheart @fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur

@horsesarenotdeer @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @larkral

@m1ndwinder @noblecorgi @onepintobean @prettygoododds @raenestee

@rbkzz @run-for-chamo-miles @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs

@talentpiper11 @thewholelemon @valeffelees @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[laura1633]

Okay, so, guess this Max Verstappen writes fanfiction. Explicit fanfiction-- fluff too but a lot of explicit stuff. look if he cannot get Charles in real life, he will make sure his fictional self is getting railed six ways from sunday. Charles Leclerc-- not much of a writer. He loves reading fanfic though! Especially by an author called 'Unleash The Lion'. If he came reading about fucking Max it is no one's business but his.

Soon enough he finds the Tumblr profile of UnleashTheLion and they become fandom friends. 2019-2020 They decide to meet. Their friendship shifted well beyond reading stories about Charles Leclerc fucking Max Verstappen and they became friends. Turns out they could have had the real thing all this time.

Haha, yes anon, I love this idea. Max just straight up writing out every fantasy that pops into his head and Charles sitting at home reading it and getting turned on by it. I love that they are both basically sharing their fantasies with each other without realising - maybe sometimes Charles leaves comments for suggestions Unleash the lion can write about 😳

I was thinking about what would happen if the author Unleash the lion (Max) always makes the same spelling mistake or misuses the same phrase a lot so it almost becomes like their signature way of writing even if they don't realise it.

One day Max texts Charles about something but makes that same very specific mistake as "Unleash the lion" does. At first Charles thinks it must be a coincidence but he still wants to find out for sure so he starts mentioning subtle things to Max to see if they suddenly appear in the fanfics and they do. Every single time.

When they do eventually get together they start re-enacting all the fics Max has written!

[funtomfactory]

In memoriam

Now that most of you have read chapter 209 of the manga and have hopefully let it settle in a bit, I would like to give some attention to this.

RIP Snake 3/15/1871 - 12/9/1889

A beloved member of the Phantomhive household and Kuroshitsuji family has passed away. Snake, as we learned, was 18 years old and had no other name. His eccentric looks an dabilities made him a very special character to many who have feelings akin to Snake's: the fact that they desperately want to belong somewhere, despite being an oddity. Snake therefore was a very popular character, even becoming the seventh most popular character of the series according to an official poll, just missing out on the Akuma Six.

Much about Snake remains a mystery. We still don't know what caused his appearance, or how he wound up at the freakshow. I have little hope that we'll find that out yet now that he's gone.

But we will not let his passing go by unnoticed. That's why we announce the following:

Snake's memorial service (#Snake Memorial) Starting this friday, and lasting throughout the weekend, we will honor Snake in the ways fandoms tend to do:

Friday: Memories day. Share your favourite manga/anime moment(s) of Snake and his Snakes.

Saturday: Fan content. Share your fanfictions, fanart, etc. featuring Snake.

Sunday: Speculation day. What headcanons do you have for Snake? Which questions left unanswered do you think you have the solution to? Share your thoughts on Snake on the third and final day.

How to participate? Of course we leave that entirely up to you! If you want us to reblog your posts, use the tag #Snake Memorial or send in something using the askbox or submission page.

Remember: Snake will only truly die if we forget about him as a fandom.

@kurosnakes

[kiwiana-writes]

Banner is by the inimitable @maxbegone

Kia ora! I'm MJ (he/they), and I guess it's probably time I pinned one of these suckers.

I'm currently working on my debut original novel, and I can also be commissioned for original erotica writing. However, you're almost definitely here because of my fanfiction. If you're looking for my fics on AO3, you can find all those here. If that number is mildly overwhelming, they are split over a few pseuds:

Red White & Royal Blue and other miscellaneous fandom fics + AO3 work skins here

Schitt's Creek fanfic here

Podfics here

I fairly regularly do tumblr prompt drabbles/double drabbles/five sentence fics here that didn’t find their way to AO3, as well as sharing snippets of upcoming fics and similar: you can find all of those under the kiwiana-writes tag. I try to share something for WIP Wednesdays and Six(ish) Sentence Sundays, but I'm an ADHD chaos demon with literally dozens of WIPs on the go at any given time, so it's always a tossup to see what I'll be sharing. I've recently gotten my shit together and started tagging WIPs, so if you see a snippet that you like, you should in theory be able to find any other pieces of that fic I've already shared. At least since like… November 2023 when I finally started doing that 😅 I also do bookbinds/fanbinds if you're into that!

My ask box is open, anon or not! Happy to answer questions about my work or fandom in general or why the Kings are the best NHL team or whatever you feel like asking about, really. You’re also welcome to drop a prompt if you want to, though I don’t guarantee anything—the muse wants what it wants 😅

This is a sideblog (which, honestly, I kinda regret now, but too late lol) so follows/likes/asks will come from @youtastelike-sunlight until that heady day tumblr staff give us the ability to do those things from sideblogs like we recently got the ability to reply. What a magical discovery that was.

[wonderbias]

Secrets (your fire)

Inspired by "Symptom of your Touch" by @yoonivy. Go read it!

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

Genre: Fluff, little bit of angst and humor.

Warnings: language, mentions of sexual relationships.

Notes: after more than ten years in tumblr reading fanfiction I'm publishing my first one. Yep. I'm old. Also, inspired in Magdalena Bay song Secrets (your fire).

Word count: idk, in google docs says "short".

---------------------------------------------------

She is petrified at the confession.

So much that she almost chokes on her ice cream. 

No. All good.

The almond went through the right pipe.

"So...", she begins. "How many times?"

He stares back at her, his angular cheekbones covered in a blush. Her stare is one of 'Really dude?'.

He sighs.

"...too many to count," replies Aemond. His hand runs across his medium length hair.

"Holy fucking hell! And now...?"

"She's very happy with Aegon, the jewel of the family," Aemond says, the venom in his voice evident. "They started dating after...the last time, yeah. Been together for six months."

She stares back at him and sighs, when she asked him what was his most important secret, she hadn't expected this. Her confession of being a virgin at 21 was just a tiny detail next to the bomb he had dropped. Suddenly she had no appetite for ice cream.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this.", she said, leaning close to softly caress his shoulder.

His face fell, the look of despair in his eyes was replaced with rage. Although, there still was a sadness undertone to it.

"You know what the worst part is? That the cunt of my brother knows, he fucking knew all the time! So now I have to live with the humiliation of him knowing, the heartbreak and having been used like a common whore!", he spat.

She sighed, his hurt and angst was evident.

"I wouldn't say like a common whore...at least whores get paid," she tried to joke with him.

Bingo. Success. He smiled a little at that.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that...dark version of 'The Kissing Booth'. But hey...at least she dumped you before she caught an STD from Aegon," she joked with a wiggle of her brows.

He burst in laughter and threw her a pillow.

"You fucking idiot. Thank you," and there was sincerity and affection in his eyes for his best friend. "So, is that an confession that you watched 'The Kissing Booth'?"

"Yes I did watch it, I washed my eyes with sulphuric acid after," she said with amusement in her voice. "But, let's go back to 'That Girl'. Are you better? The therapy is working?"

"I-I like to think it does. I've changed...a lot...since I started therapy. It helped me to finally appreciate myself, but when 'That Girl' is brought up I feel like I haven't made any progress. Now my insecurities are tied with the probability of being alone forever and that I'm unworthy of love," he said with a sigh, his fingers scratching the couch.

"Well, that makes two of us. But mine is being alone forever, that I'm unworthy of love and dying a virgin," she said back to him. "I win."

He laughed at her and shook his head in disbelief, before changing the topic into what movie should they watch, like every Sunday.

Their friendship had started in the most bizarre way. They didn't share a major in Dorne College and they lived far away from each other but, by destiny, they had registered in a seminar of Literature at college last semester.

The first time they had talked to each other had happened when they arrived ten minutes earlier to class and started a small talk about their majors. When fifteen minutes had passed and nobody else had arrived they realized that the class was a Thursday, not a Tuesday like they had individually thought.

A small error had blossomed into a great friendship. They both had trouble socializing, very few friends and an interest in novels of any kind, especially fanfiction. When he had, by error, sent her a link to an AO3 fanfic, she had screamed in delight at sharing the same tastes.

It felt magical to have someone who completely understood you, who understood the fascination for reading fanfics where #BruceWayneisaGoodParent, who had the same humor in memes, who knew the references to Epic Rap Battles of History and who screamed in longing at the scene where Cecilia asked Robbie to come back to her in Atonement.

It was perfect.

Well, except for that small small detail...

She liked him.

A lot.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2697 | ao3 link

Eleanore (better known as Nore) was only 18 years old when she moved out of her house. She chose to live with her cousin, Cliff, in the same house where his band was staying - and got involved with all of them much more than she had ever expected to get involved with someone...

✦ warnings and tags: oc is cliff's cousin, +18, slice of life, drinking, smoking, fluff, cliff being cliff (overprotective older cousin), oc meets the metallica boys

✦ a/n: hello! i started posting this fanfiction on ao3 a while ago, but now i decided to post it directly here on tumblr too. the story is a bit long but there will be a lot of fluff, angst and smut along the way and also a lot of james and dave ♡ I will be posting one or two chapters daily until I catch up with the chapters posted on AO3, then I will start posting at the same frequency as I do there - every Wednesday and Sunday! Anyway, hope you enjoy ♡

I couldn't exactly say that I had plans for the beginning of 1983, but certainly moving out of my parents' house wasn't among them. Not that I had much of a choice, as I had been practically kicked out after the chaos that was my 18th birthday a few months earlier.

I was lucky to have my cousin Cliff's help. He had joined a new band a few months ago and had moved out of his parents' house to live with the guys in a house in downtown San Francisco. His offer to let me stay with them for a few months came at the right time, and I didn't hesitate to accept.

Maybe that hadn't been the best idea, as everything that could go wrong so far was happening — including me being late, missing the bus that would take me from Long Beach on a six-hour trip to San Francisco, having to buy another ticket for another bus that would leave only two hours later, and realizing only after boarding that I had forgotten my bag with half of my clothes and all — yes, absolutely all — of my underwear at my parents' house. Now, in addition to spending money on buying new clothes, I would have to wait for my parents to send me the bag by mail.

Great, I thought bitterly as I looked out the window of the moving bus.

I tried to distract myself by opening my sketchbook and doodling something, but I was too anxious to do anything. Cliff and I had practically grown up together, but since he moved to San Francisco with his family four years ago, our interactions had considerably decreased. Now, he had several new friends whom I didn't know, a girlfriend I had never even heard of, and he was even playing in a band. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to fit into his new life, and this kinda bothered me.

Despite the anxiety, I was exhausted, and I ended up dozing off for a while. It felt like I had only blinked when I woke up to the passenger next to me letting me know that we had arrived. I thanked the man and grabbed my luggage; when the bus stopped, I was one of the first people to get off.

San Francisco had the smell and sound of the sea; the sun was shining high in the cloudless blue sky. Despite the sun, it was still winter, and a cold wind cut through the platform. I looked around anxiously. Cliff had said he would be there, but I couldn't see him anywhere. That's when I felt someone touch my shoulder. When I turned, there he was, the old crumpled Misfits t-shirt, a cigarette in his hand, his long silky hair, and that beautiful smile on his face that I knew so well.

"Cliff!" I yelled and threw myself into his arms for a hug, laughing like I used to when I was little. He laughed and hugged me back.

"Hey, Nore. How was the trip?"

"It was horrible!" I complained, and he raised an eyebrow, a slight smile on his lips. "I forgot my bag, I was late and missed the bus. It was pure chaos; I didn't even think you would wait for me."

"Yeah, I noticed you were late. I've been waiting here for hours," he said with a tired sigh. I bit my lip, a guilty expression on my face, and he laughed. "It's okay. At least you made it. Let's go?"

He gently took the bag from my hand, and we walked through the terminal to the parking lot, where I saw his car. As I hopped in, he tossed my suitcase in the trunk and took a seat beside me in the driver's seat. I turned on the music, and a Misfits song blasted, extremely loud, just the way I knew Cliff loved it. I frowned and toned it down a bit.

"Oh my God, Cliff," I complained. "Aren't you scared of going deaf?"

"Hey, it's better to enjoy life while we're young," he grinned at me with that laid-back attitude that I knew all too well. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile back. "And our hearing too, y'know."

He turned on the car, and I quickly strapped myself in. I knew Cliff's wild driving style; if seatbelts truly saved lives, I was putting my faith in that little piece of fabric. I gripped on tight as he zoomed through the city, weaving through traffic like a maniac. I lost count, but I swear he blew through at least three red lights on the way.

Fortunately, we safely arrived at the house where he was living. I got out of the car and stretched, feeling sore after hours of bus travel.

"Come on," he said. "I'll introduce you to the guys."

"Wait, what about my luggage?"

"I'll get it later. Is it okay if we share the room? It's the only place you can stay for now."

"No worries,"I said, as he took me by the hand and guided me into the house. He swung open the door, revealing a sparsely furnished living room with only a TV, a couple of couches, and a table surrounded by four chairs. A short guy was sitting on one of the sofas, speaking loudly while two others laughed at whatever he had just said. All three had beers in their hands, and a few empty bottles were scattered on the floor.

"Hey, guys," Cliff said. "This is Nore, my cousin. The one I told you would be staying here for a while."

They looked at us. The short dark-haired guy stood up with a smile.

"Hey," he greeted me. He had a different accent, definitely not American. "How's it going?"

"Nore, this is Lars. He's Danish, so you might find his smell a bit strange," Cliff said in a sarcastic tone, a smirk on his face.

"Shut up, dude." Lars grabbed a beer bottle and pointed at me. "Want one?"

"No, she doesn't," Cliff cut in. I looked at him, raising my eyebrows. "Hey, no more drinking problems for you, okay?"

"Oh, Cliff, shut up. You worry too much," I grumbled, which made the guys laugh.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you. Remember that your parents told me not to let you drink."

"Well, then you won't smoke your joints in front of me either," I said, reaching out to snatch the cigarette from his hand, but he held it up high. He knew I couldn't reach it, I was way shorter than him. He chuckled.

"These are Dave and James," he said, still holding his hand up. I lightly hit his back, pissed off, but he ignored me.

"Hi," the blond guy spoke in a low voice, seeming annoyed. He didn't even look directly into my eyes, quickly turning his attention back to the beer bottle in his hand. I felt my face heat up, wondering if he already hated me or something.

"Hi," I said softly. "Nice to meet you."

The other guy laughed. He had wavy strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. He was just a little shorter than Cliff – but still much taller than me.

"You upset the lady, James," he got up from the sofa and took my hand in his. "Don't mind him, he's just a bit shy. I'm Dave, you probably figured that out already."

"Hi, Dave," I smiled.

"So your name is Nore? That's kinda different."

"Oh, actually, it's Eleanore. But nobody really calls me that, I prefer Nore."

He grinned, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket.

"It's a cool name," he lit a cigarette and gave me a wink. "If you feel like grabbing some drinks later..."

"Hey, lay off my cousin," Cliff frowned. "I've already told you she's not gonna drink, dammit."

"Cliff!" I complained. "Come on, you can't stop me from having a drink."

James snorted.

"You worry too much, man," he got up and handed me a beer bottle. "Here. You can have a drink if you want."

I took the bottle from his hand before Cliff could do anything and took a sip. He sighed and shrugged.

“Okay, it's your problem.”

"Hey, no need to be all parental on me," I said in a more understanding tone. "I can handle myself just fine, alright?"

“I won't bother lecturing you,” he grumbled. “But you better let your parents know that if I find you dead in a pool of vomit, it's all your fault, you hear me?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. He smiled, making me realize that he was just joking.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your parents about this either," I pointed to the cigarette in his hand. He huffed.

"You know they already know about it, right?" I scowled and he laughed. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"She could crash in my room," Dave grinned. "Plenty of room there."

"And you better cut out the flirty business with my cousin." Cliff's voice turned serious as he pulled me closer, gripping my shoulders in a protective way.

Dave laughed and left the room, not without smiling at me. My cheeks flushed, but I smiled back.

"I'll grab my bag," I said to Cliff. Taking another swig from the bottle, I handed it over to James with a grateful smile. "Thanks."

He shrugged, but flashed me a small smile in return.

Cliff walked me to the car and opened the trunk so I could get my luggage. I followed him to his room, which was a cozy little space on the ground floor. It had a bed, a closet, a desk, and his bass guitar hanging on the wall. I dropped my suitcase in a corner by the desk and cracked it open to grab some money. I still had to go to a store, see if I could find some clothes. He pulled out a mattress from behind the wardrobe.

"This is your new bed," He said. "At least until I can bring that bunk bed my parents are lending me." 

"You could be a knight in shining armor and let me sleep in yours." I grumbled, looking at the thinness of the mattress.

"No fucking way."

"I could end up with a serious back problem for sleeping on this, you know."

"Don't give me that. You won't convince me."

"I bet Dave would let me sleep in his bed."

"And take the opportunity to sleep with you."

"Oh, come on, Cliff," I laughed, feeling my face turning red. "He was joking."

"Yeah, right," he replied acidly. I shook my head in doubt. I found the money in my suitcase, picked it up, and stood up to leave. "Where are you going?"

"I need to buy some things. I'll be right back."

"I'll take you."

"No need, I saw there are plenty of shops nearby. I'll manage."

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette as he sat on the bed and opened a magazine. I left the house and found James outside, sitting by the porch, finishing his beer.

"Hi." I said.

"Hey. You heading out?" he asked in a low voice. At least now he didn't ignore me, I thought.

"Yeah. I still need to buy some things today."

"You know where to go?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was thinking of just taking a walk around. Didn't want to bother Cliff any more than I already have," I admitted. He stared at me, seeming to think for a moment, then stood up.

"Hang on. I'll come with you."

"You sure?" I asked, surprised. He nodded.

"Yeah, I need... to stock up on more beer. Just wait here, I'll get my money."

I nodded and waited as he entered the house. He returned soon, wearing a worn leather jacket and holding some crumpled dollars in his hand, which he stuffed into his pocket.

"There's a supermarket down the street. Let's go?"

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

We walked the whole way in silence. I couldn't help but think about what Dave had said about James being a bit shy. Despite that, he had been nice enough to offer to come along with me. As we walked, I glanced at him. Taking a closer look, I noticed that his eyes were just like mine, blue in color. He had a serious look on his face, lost in his own thoughts. Usually, I would start a conversation in a situation like this, but I was feeling a bit shy myself.

We soon arrived at the supermarket. I was taken aback because the place was bigger than I had expected.

"Hey, do they sell clothes here?" I asked. It would be super convenient if I could find some clothes without having to go elsewhere after buying the beers.

"Yes, they do," he answered, then looked at me. "Are you here to buy clothes?"

"Oh," I blushed. "I... sort of forgot my bag at my parents' house, so..."

He chuckled. "You're just like Cliff. He's an airhead too."

"Hey!" I complained. "I was tired, okay?"

He smiled as we entered the store. I grabbed a shopping basket, and he pointed to an aisle.

"The clothes are over there. Need some company?"

"Nah, I got this. Meet you back here?"

"Sure."

I walked to the clothing section, which was somewhat limited. Most of the stuff looked kinda ugly, but luckily, I managed to find some decent underwear and bras. I snagged a few items in my size and tossed them in the basket.

I was heading back to the entrance to meet James when I spotted him near the beverage shelves, looking frustrated. I walked up to him.

"Hi," he grumbled. "I'm trying to decide which one to take... Our favorite is sold out, and I'm clueless about these cheaper options."

I looked at the shelf, then picked up a bottle from a well-known brand that wasn't too expensive.

"I like this one. We can split the cost if you want."

He smiled a little, grabbing a case of the brand I had suggested.

"I'll roll with your choice," he tossed the case in the basket, and I made a face at the weight. "Oops, my bad," he effortlessly took the basket from my hand as if it weighed almost nothing.

"Thank you," I said, and he smiled.

"Did you get everything you needed?" he asked, and I nodded. "Alright, let's go then."

We went to the cashier and cashed out. James insisted on paying for all the beers. I realized that, beneath the initial shyness, he was actually a pretty cool guy. He stopped by the store entrance to open two bottles of beer and offered me one. We walked back home as the sun was setting, James sipping his beer and humming softly. I recognized the sound — the guitar riff from Paranoid, by Black Sabbath. The day was quickly coming to an end, and I could feel the exhaustion creeping in.

"It's really good," he suddenly said as we waited to cross a street, and I looked at him, puzzled. "The beer," he explained.

"Told you so," I grinned.

"Guess you wouldn't want me to tell Cliff about you drinking."

I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Cliff worries too much. But I think he'll soon give up on nagging me."

"I'm rooting for you," he said in a playful tone. I let out a soft chuckle.

Soon enough, we reached the house. I said goodbye to James and made my way to Cliff's room, which was now also mine, ready to grab my things and take a shower. Packing away my new clothes in my bag, I found myself humming the same tune as James. Despite the fatigue and the overload of new information, my anxiety had melted away. I didn't know what the next few days would bring, but it excited me. The guys seemed cool, and it was good to be closer to Cliff again. I didn't have a clue where this new life would lead me, but I was ready to embrace whatever came, whenever it came.

[queenofbaws]

There's been a drought of non-poly Chrashley-focused content for quite a while now (apart from the occasional story on Ao3), and I'm starved for ANYTHING featuring the nerds and their schmaltzy escapades. I've considered remedying this situation by making my own food (read: trying to write my own fanfiction), but I fear I wouldn't do the characters justice. You've proven to be a talented author from what I've read of your works, so would you be willing to write a soft, sweet snippet in my stead?

catch me catching up on some not-quite-six sentence sat(or)sunday!

"So...is it that you think glaring it down is somehow going to magically make it safer, or...?" He couldn't mark it down as a full victory, not with the way her mouth was twisted up like that, but there was juuust enough laughter in her eyes for Chris to pat himself on the back. Not that he ever needed much of an excuse to do that.

After another moment of heavy, heavy consideration, Ashley sighed, then groaned, then forced herself to take a single lurching step over the threshold and into the cable car. She mumbled something as she shrugged her bag off and plunked it down on the same bench where he'd ditched his, and while he couldn't make most of it out, he for sure caught "death trap" and "tin can" thrown around in there.

"That'd be a 'yes' on the glaring question, then?" he teased, pretending not to follow her with his eyes as she sat beside him. She folded her arms and sighed again, and he nudged her shoulder with his own. "Think about it this way," he tried instead, "maybe it's Peter Pan rules - if you believe we're going to drop about a million feet and plunge to our icy deaths, then we will, and if you don't, we won't!"

"Chris! Oh my God." Ashley dropped her head into her hands, laughing tensely. Very, very tensely. "Do you seriously think that's helping?"

"Nah. I just didn't want to go full bad movie cliche and say, y'know...c'mon, Ash, what's the worst that could happen?"

The cable car's door clicked shut, the mechanism began to hum, and Ashley's laughter took on a desperate note. "Oooh but you said it anywayyy!"

She scooted another few inches away from the window, and just like that they were flush against each other, her arm pressing into his...from between, like, twelve layers of jacket, anyway. They hadn't even chugged a single inch up the mountain yet and whoop, yeah, uh huh, now Chris was all aboard the Anxiety Express too, his ticket paid for, processed, and punched in not by heights or the decidedly out-of-date maintenance sticker on the back window but Ashley herself. As was so often the case.

What was his move here? Did he have a move here? And, maybe more importantly, since when did he think about his life in terms of moves?

Okay, that last one was actually easy enough to answer: Since he'd hung up with Josh all of three minutes ago. It had been a thirty second call, if that, just enough to let him know they were heading up and he should expect them at the summit's station in the next ten minutes or so...but in true Josh fashion, he'd managed to pack that thirty seconds with as much psychic damage as humanly possible.

"Hope you two have a nice ride up," he'd said cheerfully enough, which had tripped at least five different warning alarms in Chris's brain. "See the sights, revel in the atmosphere, engage in a much-needed heart-to-heart...you know, just...really enjoy each other's company."

Good ol' Josh. Always knowing the exact thing to say to leave a guy completely unarmed.

Armed! Was that the answer? He could, in theory, sort of stretch his arm around her shoulders. People did that, didn't they? If someone they were with was freaked out? It...it didn't have to be seen as a romantic gesture, not if all he was doing was comforting her, but...but would she see it like that?

The cable car crept a foot off the ground, two, three, four, five...and right as they crested the roof of the station, it...well, it stopped. Completely.

"What's going on?" All it took was the cable car rocking once as it came to a halt and Ashley was on him, her face buried in the fur lining of his parka and her arms wrapped so tightly around his middle he could feel her fingers knotting at his side, Princess and the Pea style. "I can't look! How high up are we? I - wait, no, I don't want to know! Don't tell me!"

"I...we're like seven feet up, Ash. Like, maybe eight. Nine?"

"Make up your miiiiiiiind!" she groaned into his coat, her shoulders shaking as he did, in fact, scrounge up courage enough to wrap his arm around them. "I knew this was a bad idea...God, I hate these stupid things!"

"They've never stalled like this before. It's probably just, uh, a glitch or something. The system needs to warm up a little bit." He tried to sound confident as he said it, even as he glanced out the window and started running the numbers in his head. Could they jump out if they needed to? Maybe. It'd probably hurt, though, and he was prone to getting hurt on leisurely walks around the block, to say nothing of sick, snowy stunts. Plus, it'd taken a hell of a lot of convincing to get Ashley into the cable car in the first place; convincing her out of it...

"Yeah," she agreed, poking her head out from his coat only long enough to shoot a worried glance out the window on her side, "they've never stalled like this before, that's the problem, Chris! Maybe this is it! This is the time they break down for good! We're going to be stuck up here and - "

Before she could get another word out, the lights in the car flickered. And dimmed.

They turned to each other, eyes wide as panic began to really set in, and...and then...wait.

Now wait one fucking second.

The car suddenly filled with music. Music of the low and slow variety, that was, music the likes of which you only ever heard during the swelling denouement of a cheesy Hallmark romance movie, and Jesus Christ, he was going to kill Josh when they got to the summit. If they got to the summit.

Chris's head fell back against the glass panel behind him with a dull thunk. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they went. "Well," he said, feeling his adrenaline begin to flag, "looks like someone installed speakers in this bad boy since our last visit."

"Oh my God. Oh my...God." Beside him, Ashley slumped. Up until that moment, she'd been a spring wound tight against his side; now she felt more like a ragdoll folded up under his arm, her heartbeat still frantic enough that he could feel it through their layers upon layers of winterwear.

A moment later the cable car chugged back to life, rising up, up, up into the sky and towards the lodge, its lights low and its jams smooth. Chris waited for the moment Ashley straightened again, prepared himself for their inevitable separation...and even as the lights of the summit slowly came into view, it did not come.

"You just had to say it, didn't you?" Ashley asked after awhile, her arms still tight around him, her head still nestled in his parka's lining. "Just had to go and jinx us, huh?"

It took him a second, but when it clicked, it was all he could do not to laugh outright. Instead, he pressed his luck a liiittle more, tightening the arm around her shoulders to pull her closer before setting his chin atop her head. "Ash, uh, if this right here is the worst that could happen, I gotta be honest, I would love to know what your idea of the best-case scenario would've been."

[allthewriteplaces]

Magnolia In May - Chapter One

Hello, everyone! I have been working since May to create this fanfiction and now, I am here to share it with you all! 🤍 That being said, thank you for being so patient with me while I try and pluck up my courage and get over writer's block to post this.

My story takes place in between seasons 5 and 6, with a few changes here and there because yes.

Story summary: Jessie Bennet lives in the English countryside with her uncle, her aunt and her five cousins. But one day in May, an unexpected visitor shows up on her doorstep, one who's about to change the course of her life forever.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 4551

Chapter One

I first met Thomas Shelby a year ago. It was a supposedly ordinary day in early May, the time of year when spring made its debut in the form of warm, flowery breezes, budding leaves on the treetops and scattered rain showers throughout. The days were getting longer, the nights were slowly shrinking back away, and the sun was starting to make more of an appearance, a rare sight in England, considering it was under a seemingly near constant cover of clouds. Even in the winter, it always seemed to be cloudy. Cold enough to snow, but I hadn’t seen snow on the ground since I was small. 

Because of the sunshine streaming into our bedrooms, me and the rest of my family had risen earlier than usual to get a head start on the daily chores. 

Everyone had a job to do and we ran on a tight schedule, like a crew on the Navy ships, especially on the Holy days, when the main goal was to get everyone ready and out the door in time for Sunday Service. Today was Saturday, and while I would have been more than happy to spend a few more hours in bed, there was plenty of work to be done around the cottage. 

I had spent the better part of my life here. Just before my parents died, my mother took my hands in her cold, clammy ones, I looked into her greying eyes as the hazy film began to cloud over them, and she told me I was going to live with my Uncle Albert, my Aunt Elizabeth, whom everyone else called her ‘Eliza,’ and my two older cousins, Sarah and David, in Warwickshire, the heart of the English countryside. 

She said the cottage was surrounded by miles and miles of tall fruit trees, rolling hills and lush green fields and a lake nearby. She promised that it would be my sanctuary, my own paradise, somewhere I can let all of my troubles go. 

Of course when I got there that cool, autumn morning, I was intrigued by the beauty of it all. The main road ran through orchards, past rivers and lakes, and continued onto the next town. Now and then, there were the occasional settlements where our neighbours lived and I could see the fires at night or could hear the lively music. I automatically sensed that this was where people came to get away from the stress of city life. 

Aunt Eliza, that’s what I called her, had already had her fair share of stress, her first husband died from something called consumption, leaving her with my older cousins to raise by herself on a maid’s salary. She was a pretty and sensitive woman, but though I wouldn’t call her a fighter, she was strong in her own way. 

She had this natural-born ability to put anyone at ease just by being in the same room as they were. That first night at the new place, when my homesickness was at its absolute worst, she let me sleep in the big bed with her so I would feel safe, saying. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

Eliza came from a big family and had been raised Protestant by her parents in Glasgow, but after she met Uncle Theo, her first husband, she had sacrificed everything they knew and loved, to give their six kids, including my mother, a better life. My best memories of them were when my mother and I drove all the way across the Highlands to visit them during summer holidays and at Christmastime. 

Uncle Albert came into the picture shortly after Sarah got married and set off on her own path. The only trouble was, he was Catholic. The battle between Catholics and Protestants was rooted in history, and I wasn’t sure the reason, but it didn’t stop Eliza from falling in love with him. Like Romeo and Juliet, they went against their parent’s wishes and married in secret in a beautiful chapel. After which she eventually converted to catholicism. 

Tension was high in the family once my grandparents found out about the marriage, it was common for disputes to start, sometimes from the smallest thing, and during those arguments, which seem so petty now, I would be sent to my room to play and asked that I play as loud as I could so I wouldn’t hear the fighting. 

Eventually, I had enough and actually ran away from home. It was stupid, really, I shouldn’t have done it, but I just couldn’t stand it. It was Uncle Albert who found me, soaked to the skin and sick as a dog from being out in the rain for so long. 

The only good thing about it, was that for once, they weren’t shouting at each other, they were all hovering over me and my grandfather was calling for a doctor. Me running away seemed to snap them out of it, if only for just a few minutes, I still remember opening my teary eyes and saying, “Why doesn’t anyone love each other anymore?” 

That was when it hit them, just how much this was impacting me, a small child of ten years old, who was somehow trapped in the middle of this feud that had nothing whatsoever to do with me, and doing whatever it took in an attempt to stop it. 

Tears were shed and everyone embraced each other. A truce was formed that day. No more yelling, no more shouting. And to this day, we still see each other around the holidays. 

It was nearly six o’clock when I rolled over in bed, roused by the sunlight streaming in through the thin veil of curtains covering my bedroom window. The sky had taken on glorious shades of pink, orange and violet, casting shadows on the canopy and on the striped walls. I didn’t want to move from that spot, I wanted to stay in bed where it was nice and comfortable, but the second I heard three-month-old Violet, the baby of the family, babbling in her crib, I lifted the sheets back and rolled out, making sure the sheets were tucked in and there weren’t any wrinkles as I tucked the corners of them into the mattress. 

Making my way out of my room, shutting the door tightly behind me, her little voice carried through the hallway. She wasn’t in distress or anything, she was only talking to herself. When I stepped into her room and peeked into her crib, she was laying flat on her back, eyes wide open and a bright smile on her face. 

“Someone's wide awake, eh?” I said and her smile brightened. 

Look, I know I wasn’t supposed to have a favourite cousin, but from the moment I had watched her enter the world -- it was the first time I’d seen a baby be born, ever, so it was all brand new to me, I felt this strong connection to her, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her from any sort of harm that might come to her. 

Reaching down into the crib, I picked her up with both hands and held her against my chest, ensuring her head and neck were supported, seeing as how she wasn’t quite strong enough to hold her head up on her own just yet. 

“Mama says we need to find your pink cardigan to wear. I believe I put it in the closet after bringing it inside, but I’m not sure.” I added in a calm, soothing voice as she yawned and nuzzled her head against my chest. I bounced her lightly on my hip and went over to the dresser, opening the middle drawer and pulling out her fuzzy pink cardigan as well as a new nappy. 

“Jessie!” I turned to the doorway and saw Alice standing there with her hands on her hips. She looked so much like my aunt when she did that it wasn't funny. “Marie stole my hair ribbon again!” 

“Did not!” Marie yelled, stomping her foot. 

“Did, too!” Her sister yelled back. “You take them all the time!” 

“Not this time!” Marie shook her head. She was on the verge of tears. 

“Surrender now or suffer the consequences!!” Suddenly, the door burst open and Henry, who'd just turned six, started running around the room, followed by his twin brother, William. Both of them were still wearing their nightshirts, their hair was still spiky and stuck up in odd places, and as they chased one another around the room, they brandished wooden swords. 

Like most boys their age, they were always running around the house with their toy cars, trucks and planes, or roughhousing with each other. Roughhousing wasn’t allowed indoors and there were strict rules, set by my uncle, as to how far they could go before they would be told to end the game to prevent anyone from getting hurt. Their sisters were always welcome to join in the fun, and sometimes they did if the game they were playing was interesting enough for them, but most of the time it was just the two of them, conjuring mischief. 

“No! I won fair and square,” William argued, folding his arms across his chest, his voice raising in volume. He had a loud voice for a six-year-old and he knew exactly how to use it when he thought it was necessary. 

“No! I won!” Henry insisted.  “Admit it, you cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat, you did, you mongrel!” 

“I’m not a mongrel, you are!” 

“Mongel!” Marie repeated, pointing to Henry, then to William, then to Alice. 

“Stop saying bad words!” Alice gasped. “I’ll tell Mama!” 

“Oi! What did I say about calling your brother names?” I said. 

“He started it!” said Henry, pointing a finger at William. 

“And where did you hear such foul language?” 

“Timmy Munson,” he replied, twirling the wooden sword in his other hand. 

“Yeah,” said William. “He called his brother, Davy, that word last Sunday on the way back from Church. Then he wrestled him to the ground and got all muddy and dirty. His parents didn’t even bat an eye. They were too busy ” 

That explains it. 

Timmy Munson was nearly sixteen and was referred to as the ‘leader of the pack.’ or the town’s trouble maker by the adults around him. He swore, he smoked, he stole his father’s liquor and teased the girls at church something terrible, with the parents seemingly oblivious to what was going on, or decidedly ignoring his rebellious behaviour, hence why neither Henry, nor William were allowed to play with Timmy, and the girls weren’t allowed to speak to him. 

My aunt and uncle thought he was a bad influence and they were right. There were rumours that he was dating Misty Bradford, Father Bradford’s daughter. At Church, we called all the leaders ‘Father.’ His daughter, Misty, was fifteen, not quite old enough to start dating yet, but Alice once told me that she heard her say that he was handsome, but also, that he was the sort of boy that would date you for five minutes and then as soon as a prettier girl would come along, he would leave you without a second thought. 

On the other hand, I was glad that Misty was a sensible girl who wouldn’t fall to the temptations of the neighbourhood scoundrel, but on the other hand, I wondered if the reason why Timmy acted out was because it was the only way he got his parents’ attention. Maybe that was just my instincts kicking in, but if that was the case, I would certainly feel terrible for the poor lad. Even still, I wanted to discourage the boys from picking up such nasty habits and words. 

“Right, well, just because Timmy Munson says something or does something, doesn’t mean you should, eh?” I said, gently placing my hands on William’s shoulders and looking him square in the eyes. He met my gaze unflinchingly, which told me he was really listening to what I was saying to him. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not just to fit in. You are a sweet and caring young man, and we need more caring men in this world nowadays.” 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Really.” I nodded my head in confirmation. “Besides, girls love boys who are sweet, kind and caring and who get along with their brothers and sisters. At least that’s what I’ve heard.” 

He nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I say, let’s call it a tie, then.” 

William shrugged his shoulders microscopically. “Sounds fair,” 

“Now shake hands. Like the good sports you are.” 

They shook hands, laughing to themselves, signalling a truce. 

“GAAAAAAH!” Violet shrieked near my ear, kicking her feet and looking at her brothers as I delicately pulled her arms through the sleeves of her nightgown, putting it in a basket so I could take it to the laundry tub and wash it later on. 

I wasn’t sure if she was telling them to stop, or if she was taking a side in the disagreement. I placed her down on the bed along with her new clothes. Hearing her little shriek, both of the boys climbed up on the bed next to her. Henry nuzzled her tummy with his nose and William tickled her with his finger, making silly faces and noises. Her eyes crinkled and I could see the giggles bubbling up inside her, like the lava bubbling up inside a volcano and after a few seconds, she exploded into shrieks of laughter. 

“Anyone puts a tear in your eye,” Henry vowed, “will live to regret it.” 

“Yeah,” William agreed. “We’ll protect you. Like good big brothers.” 

Good, I thought, That’s one problem solved. 

Small disagreements were common among the four of them, and it was nothing I couldn’t handle, but it was too early for them to start bickering, and for some reason, I could feel this tension in the house, like something was about to happen, and they must have felt it, too, because normally, they were all well-behaved. 

“Right, Marie, I’m going to ask you once. Did you take Alice’s hair ribbon?” 

“No,” she answered, looking me straight in the eyes, which told me she was telling me the truth and that this time she was innocent. She had a habit of taking her sister’s hair ribbons when hers got lost, it was something that started a little 

“Are you sure?” She nodded affirmatively and I addressed Alice. “Alice, Marie says she didn’t take the ribbon, are you sure it’s not in your room? Perhaps it fell out while you were sleeping. See if it’s in your bed.” 

“Okay,” Alice said slowly and then quickly ran back to her room with Marie running after her. Soon, both of the girls returned, both wearing relieved expressions on their faces, though Alice appeared to be a tad more embarrassed than her sister. She glanced down at the ground, a tad embarrassed and then she met Marie’s eyes. “I’m sorry I accused you. I just thought that maybe since you steal my ribbons all the time that you stole this one.” 

“It’s okay,” the younger one replied, accepting her sister’s apology and embracing her. Internally, I sighed in relief. Like I said, small disagreements were common, but nonetheless, I was glad that it was over and we could all continue on with our day as if nothing had happened. 

“Alright, all of you go into your rooms while I finish getting the baby ready and then I will be in shortly,” I declared and the boys slid off the bed, bringing their toy swords with them. The girls followed suit, going into their own room. I turned to Violet, who was recovering from giggling so much. “Never a dull moment, eh, sweetheart?” 

Trust me, making sure all of my younger cousins were dressed in clean clothes and had their hair combed before breakfast, was a lot easier said than done. 

She babbled on while I dressed her and I sang an upbeat song. It didn’t take much to keep her entertained and knowing how to keep her engaged made it easier for me to wash and dress her. After a moment, I managed to slip the cardigan on, then taking her in my arms again, I brought her down to the dining-room where Albert was reading the paper. 

“Isn’t it a little early for that, Uncle?” I asked. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, love,” he replied, setting his gin down and then taking the baby in his arms, lifting her into the air and bringing her down again, kissing her cheeks. “There’s my little princess.” 

“You are not to drink that around the baby,” my aunt said, coming into the room and taking away the glass before turning to me. “Glad to see you’re wide awake, darling. How’re the children, they’re not giving you a hard time, are they?” 

“Nah. We had a tiny dispute with a ribbon and swords, but it’s all sorted.” 

“Jessie, what would we do without you?” she patted my cheek and then stepped back into the kitchen. 

Smiling and with one child ready, I went to check on Alice and Marie. Alice was the oldest at seven years old and fancied herself to be quite grown up in comparison to her siblings. She was an exact replica of her mother -- curly red hair, green eyes and freckles dotting her cheeks and loved helping me with the chores like laundry, making the beds, and occasionally cooking. 

She sat patiently on the chair in front of the mirror and her eyes met mine in the glass as the soft bristles of the brush swept across her hair. Adding a little bit of water to the brush helped to smooth out any tangles and maintain her pretty locks. 

Marie handed me the red ribbons while I braided Alice's hair in two even plaits down her back. However, when it was her turn, she wasn't as eager to be in the same room as me. In seconds, she'd already darted down the hall. 

 “Come along, Marie.”

“No! I don’t want to!” She shouted in protest and sat down in the middle of the floor, kicking her legs as I approached her. This was typical three-year-old behaviour, according to my friends who were already married and mother's, and these days, Marie had resorted to these sorts of tactics whenever things weren't going her way.  

Discipline wasn't exactly my forte. I tended to prefer negotiating or compromising rather than escalating the conflicts further by scolding. More often than not, it worked, but perhaps today the odds weren't in my favour.  

Without saying a word, I sat down on the ground, not engaging in conversation or looking at her until she stopped kicking. She laid on her stomach, her whole body now limp on the hardwood floor. 

“Now, Marie, is this the way young ladies behave?” I asked her, keeping my tone firm yet gentle. I was compelled to rub her back and soothe her, but coddling her and talking to her as if she were a baby would only encourage the tantrums or make them worse. “You don’t see your sister acting like that, do you?” 

She didn't answer me, but not because she was ignoring my question, but because she was considering the way she'd handled the issue. A few moments later, I tried again, hoping to get to the bottom of this. 

“Do you want to tell me why you don't want your hair brushed?”

“It will hurt.” I heard her sad, muffled voice reply. 

“Not if I use the soft brush,” I promised, then added, “what if I let you do it yourself like a big girl?”

 That seemed to draw her attention and she sat up and nodded. 

“You can wear red ribbons, too!” Alice added, doing her best to be helpful. 

“Yay!” She stood, taking my hand and soon enough, we were back in the girls' room, showing Marie how to brush her own hair. Then I braided it for her and put the ribbons in. At the same time, the boys came in, dressed and with their hair combed. 

“Well then, now that we're all dressed, shall we go down to breakfast?” 

“Yes,” they all answered unanimously and I led the procession downstairs. 

This time, it was the boys' turn to go to the henhouse to collect the eggs. 

They stepped into the hallway, slipping on their jackets and boots and followed Albert out the back door. The hens could sometimes be unpredictable and that would frighten the boys so he would always supervise. 

In the meantime, I would go to help my aunt prepare the biscuits and wash the strawberries and the girls would be in charge of setting the table. Alice carried in the forks and knives, while Marie was entrusted to carry in the napkins. 

“Well done!” I said once I stepped in to check the progress. Both girls smiled proudly at their accomplishment and they grinned at the praise. When we all worked together as a unit, things ran smoothly. 

Moments later, we all sat down at the table and held hands, bowing our heads low and closing our eyes as Albert led us in prayer, as was the tradition at family mealtimes. “Bless us, Lord of all Creation, and be with us as we share this meal. We thank you for our food and ask your blessing on those who prepared it. We thank you for the gift of our family. Amen.” 

Even little Violet knew what to do, well, in her own little way, of course. She sat in her chair and raised her hands up high, clapping them and uttering an exclamation of joy. For what was supposed to be a serious moment, she sure knew how to lighten things up. 

Topics of conversation usually involved upcoming and current events, anything Albert could gather from the paper, and plans for the day. I knew that I needed to do a bit more washing today and we needed to check on the chickens. 

“Due to a close call with a fox last night, we need to go out in the backyard to check on the coop. I suspect some of the wiring has been messed with and so we might need to replace it. That will be our task today, boys,” he said, and then glanced at William and Henry, who nodded. 

“Is the fox okay?” asked Marie, whose main concern didn’t necessarily match all the others’ who were more relieved that the fox hadn’t managed to carry off one of our hens. She was a very sensitive child and loved all animals, including those that some might consider pests. 

Foxes were among the ones she cared about the most. 

A few months ago, she heard one crying not far from the house and found that it was caught in a trap. She was distressed, tears streaming down her cheeks and breathing so fast, I thought she might faint. 

“Please,” she said, hands folded together, begging. “We have to save it!” 

“It would make a lovely coat,” William joked, but Marie didn’t find his attempt to lighten the mood the least bit funny. In fact, she was this close to smacking him across the face, and the Good Lord knows that she probably would have had my aunt not been present.  

“They’re God’s creatures, too,” she said passionately, appalled by the injustice she was seeing before her and by the fact that her older brother, although he meant no harm by the statement, was mocking the poor thing. “Daddy, please, we have to save it before it’s too late.” 

Fortunately, using a few tools from the garden shed, Albert managed to free the fox, but its leg was badly wounded. That is where my aunt came in. 

She knew exactly what to do when it came to nursing wounded and baby animals back to health. She grabbed some gauze from the First Aid kit, placed it over the wound, and wrapped a bandage around the leg. 

Of course it would be too dangerous to release it until it was all better, so it was agreed that the critter would stay for a couple of weeks. It was nice having her around. We called her Pumpkin, because of the orange colour of her fur and because we’d found her in the autumn, so it made sense her namesake would match the season. 

Let’s just say it was hard for us to let her go, especially for Marie. 

Now we sat at the table and part of me suspected that Marie hoped we would get another chance to look after a fox. Albert set down his knife and fork and nodded. “It looked as though he’d managed to free himself just in the nick of time, so yes, I would say he is perfectly fine.” 

“And he will continue to be fine. As long as the little rascal doesn’t get into the coop again,” my aunt added with a light-hearted smile. “Right then…” 

Just then, the telephone in the living room rang. 

“Alice, could you go get that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mama,” she got out of her chair, walking past Violet, who had now amused herself by looking down at her toes, and picked it up on the second ring, a second later, she called out, “It’s for you, Papa!” 

“Who on Earth could be calling at this hour?” she asked, confused as he cleared his throat, setting down his napkin and then taking the phone from Alice. 

He spoke in a low voice, so it was impossible for any of us to hear anything, but we all remained silent and still, that is until he came back into the dining-room, looked at my aunt and then nodded, as though conveying some sort of secret message. 

“Help me clear the table, children,” was all she said and the younger ones did as they were told. There was that tension in the air again. It was even more palpable this time as she hurriedly turned on the tap and added soap to the mix. I immediately stood from the table and helped her scrub the plates and utensils clean. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Behind me, the children continued to bring the glasses over. The only one who seemed oblivious to what was going on, was Violet, who was smashing her fists quite aggressively against the tray of her chair and shrieking loudly, in an attempt to get someone’s attention. 

“I am expecting someone important,” Albert said, while my aunt immediately opened the cabinet for a bottle of gin. Before I could utter another word, he waved a hand towards the staircase in a dismissive and almost urgent sort of way. “Go upstairs and play in the Nursery. Neither of you are allowed to come downstairs until your mama and I say so. Understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” the children said softly. 

“Who is coming over?” Henry inquired. 

“Is it someone from work?” added Marie. 

“Maybe it’s Grandpa and Granny,” said Alice excitedly. 

“Off you go,” he said. 

Without questioning him, I nodded and took the kids upstairs to the nursery, shutting the door tightly behind me.

~ To Be Continued ~