Death leaned forward, her warm brown eyes scanning over them. "Can I see him?" She put her hands in her leather jacket, as if to show that she wasn't going to touch him.
Charles glanced at the girls. Against everything inside him that told him not to, he slowly lightened his grip just enough to let her look at him. Edwin's face was entirely relaxed, as if he were truly only asleep. His head rolled slightly along the crook of Charles's elbow, and for a moment Charles could almost pretend that he'd simply fallen asleep in his arms like that.
If he looked closer, of course, he could notice the faint tear tracks running down Edwin's face; the marks on his wrists and other places that spoke to the nature of torture Esther had inflicted on him. The way his usually always pristine hair was sweaty-sticky and messy in a way Charles had rarely seen until recently.
He hated the idea of anyone else seeing him like this. It was one thing for Crystal and Niko to see him, but Death? The being that could take them away from each other, separate them with no hope of ever returning?
It felt wrong to be so vulnerable in front of her.
A Different Kind of Magic (Magical Tommy AU, BuckTommy) 🙏 🙏
— 💜 @nine-one-wanton
Eight thousand years later, here's a little snippet for you:
“My source tells me City Hall’s finally starting up the Program,” Hen murmured to him as they both eyed the closed office door.
“Karen give you any idea when?” Tommy asked and she shot him a look.
“My source, my protected source—” she said, biting off the words with a pointed edge. “Figures any day now.” Hen huffed out a sigh. “Unfortunately.”
“This is gonna be a disaster,” Tommy groaned. The pencil pushers kept trying to slap down regulation after regulation, never understanding that magic would always manage to slither its way through every last dotted i and crossed t.
Death Worms didn’t give a shit about your bylaws. Harpies didn’t read paperwork. And Tommy wasn’t about to work with some office grunt watching over his shoulder.
[For A Different Kind of Magic, the Magical Tommy AU, coming...someday!]
15(ish) new sentences from ghost!buddie for @redrosydiaz
At the end of class, Eddie follows everyone else’s lead, spraying and wiping down his mat with the available cleaner and towels. He’d take advantage of the showers, but he didn’t think to bring a change of clothes with him and he’s just going to go home anyway.
“Good first class?”
Eddie turns to find Buck watching him from near the wall of storage, putting away yoga blocks and bolsters, and neatly arranging mats for the next class. His curls are a little wilder than they were at the start of class.
“Yeah,” Eddie answers. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so?” Buck’s face crinkles in a grin and Eddie notices for the first time a cute pink-red birthmark above his left eye.
“I just meant it was my first class and I was trying to not make an ass of myself,” Eddie shrugs ruefully. “And I’m more a gym and boxing guy anyway.”
“I can tell.”
Eddie doesn’t know what means. “But it was good.”
Buck nods and there’s a enigmatic little smile on his mouth now. “I’m glad. Will we see you again?”
Eddie thinks about. It was nice to do something different. And he’s not going to let Nadia down after they’ve come so far with his shoulder. He’s got too much to lose.
I'm so glad you're enjoying that AU!! Here's your snippet<3
The make me write ask game can be found here.
Previous fills can be found here.
I'm still taking them and we are absolutely doing repeats :)
He's summarily scooped up a second later, Cody swallowing down whatever noise Obi-Wan makes at the sudden change in altitude as he's pinned between the wall and Cody's body. He clutches at Cody's shoulders a touch desperately—perhaps just a little lightheaded at the easy display of strength.
"Gotta tell me where I'm taking you, baby," Cody murmurs, nipping at his lower lip before he ducks down to start kissing his way down Obi-Wan's throat, which is—not helpful, in terms of Obi-Wan collecting the focus to answer his question.
It's absolutely the one you're thinking about, bestie! And full disclosure you got more than fifteen sentences hehe, and I hope you like it <3
- 🫄🏼 (cont. from here)
It’s been two weeks since Ilya found out about his little tenant, and he has half a mind to file a complaint with some landlord association or something. Not only is the tenant refusing to pay rent, they’re also wreaking absolute havoc on the building.
The havoc, it turns out, manifests mostly as relentless nausea.
Ilya has always bragged about his Russian ability to avoid hangovers, no matter how many vodka shots he’s knocked back. Apparently, the universe has decided it’s time to teach him a lesson in humility, because morning sickness feels worse than a thousand hangovers combined.
Another surprising quirk of his little tenant is that they apparently hate Nutella, because even the smell is enough to make Ilya rush to the the toilet. So his usual breakfast choices are not an option.
As he eats a piece of plain toast before practice, he gives his belly an affectionate pat.
"You already have too much of your daddy in you, malysh. Next thing you'll have me craving those disgusting green smoothies of his".
Ilya still hasn't told Shane.
He has to. He knows.
It's just they haven't seen each other since Ilya found out, and he's adamant on not telling Shane over the phone. Still, every time they call each other, the secret weighs on him. He's used to keeping secrets with Shane, not from him.
But this weekend, they'll see each other. Shane'll come to Ottawa after his home game on Saturday and they'll spend all of Sunday together.
Ilya will tell him then. He will.
----
(I'm still taking asks if you wanna make me write!)
Hiiiii I swear to god I’m still writing curtbuckies it just might not be finished until I’m 80.
9 🥃 sentences for you:
Curt stares at him, then at Gale, who looks a little shellshocked. He’s staring at John, and Curt doesn’t miss the little flick of his gaze tracing down John’s body. The last time they’d all seen each other they’d been skinny and flea-ridden and scarred, and somehow a year has passed and Curt knows John’s filled back out and his hair has grown and you have to look real close to see the scar on his temple. He knows he himself looks just fine, aside from the cane he’s stubbornly left in the car. Gale looks drawn, dark circles under his eyes, the twin scars on his cheekbones stark against pale skin; but he’s gained back some weight and his hair is still cut to regulation length and perfectly coiffed and yet he looks somehow like a completely different man out of uniform.
And 6 ☹️ sentences for you:
He rolls down into it, gasping as the cold water engulfs him, as a shower of mud and rock and god knows what else rains down on him. Ducks down and covers his head with his arms. Wonders what he’s still trying to survive for. His country is bombing this city to hell, and either they’ll win and fly away, leaving him stranded still in Germany, or they’ll lose and he’ll be stranded still in Germany.
The crack of a gun, John Brady’s scream. A riderless white horse with blood on its neck like some sign from a god he doesn’t believe in.
I ended up writing more than 3 sentences, but here's some more frat!au drama, this time featuring Bill, who is Babe's "big bro" in this universe!
AS A DISCLAIMER I do not know anything about the type of fraternity the boys would theoretically be in so I'm making up stuff based largely on my own experiences in multicultural greek and what I know about professional co-ed frats.
“‘Ey, ‘ey Babe! C’mere!” Bill’s voice boomed, clearly distinct even over the sounds of the city and other students milling around. Babe cursed, startling Julian at his side. Poor kid, but there was no avoiding the man currently clattering furiously in their direction on his crutches.
“Duty calls,” he sighed sarcastically. “A'ight kid, I’ll catch you later.” Babe didn't wait for an answer and turned around to wait for his big instead of walking up to meet him halfway, petulant. “Hey, Bill— “
“Shaddup.” Babe shut up. Bill grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the middle of sidewalk, balanced rather precariously on one crutch, before speaking. “You listen to me. You 'n me," he gestured between them, "we're prac-tic-ly blood. I support you no matter what.” Bill kept glancing around them as he spoke, as frantic as Babe had ever seen him yet still dead serious.
Then, in a move so unlike Bill “Wild Bill” Guarnere that Babe would have laughed if he didn’t think he was in deep shit, he lowered his voice. “But this shit you got goin' on, with Julian?" Bill jerked his chin at the boy's retreating figure. "Has gotta stop, Babe. The oldheads are startin’ to notice, and you know how strict Dick and Nix are about fraternization before initiation.”
"Ah, shit, Bill— "
"Don't 'ah shit' me Babe. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Babe scoffed.
"Are you bein' serious?"
"Yeah, I'm 'serious'," Bill mocked. "Jesus. My p-bros too. Martin and Bull won't say nothin' but they definitely know." Babe blinked. Martin was hardly involved with any fraternity matters that weren't directly related to community service, he was so busy, let alone hanging around during socials. If he had noticed? Now Babe was really starting to worry.
Bill, oblivious to his internal monologue, barrelled on, "Joe mentioned it to me in passing, which you know for him means he gives a shit but don't wanna interfere," Babe winced again sheepishly. "And I heard Lip talkin' to Roe 'bout you. Who knows who's seen what else." He paused, focusing back on Babe and jamming a finger into his shoulder. "Who knows who's said what else."
They stood in silence for a moment as Christensen and Luz came to their minds. They wouldn't tattle... but Lord knew they had big mouths, and even worse timing.
"... Shit."
"Yeah," Bill snorted, then shot him a glare. "And language."
big - short for big brother
p-bro(s) (pbros) - short for pledge brothers, a term to refer to the other brothers in your "class"/who you pledged with
oldheads - refers to people who were initiated many years before, though in this case Bill uses it to describe Dick and Nix because Dick acts like an old man and Nix is a super super senior in my au
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh no, I have to commit to what I have committed! Which is writing!
I've been quiet here because I have just finished writing a novella, which has already gone through about five beta readers and an editor and is in the universe's hands soon; then, I decided to follow Ray Bradbury's advice and write a short story each week for a year, which I'm currently doing. SOoooo there's writing that has happened and is happening rather regularly.
Anywho, let's:
From a nearly finished WIP short sci-fi story titled "She Walked Into The Bar At Dusk" -> She walked away, her figure folding into the dim, into glass and velvet and slow, artificial light.
From a brand new, really roughly outlined WIP short sci-fi story with a working title "Mirrah and the Whisperer" -> I will cherish your echo.
Another one, from the same one ->
I am ready to be disintegrated
Broken down
To have bits of me remade, infinitely recombined, to stay within you for some time, unseeing but seeing
