#five sentences

Thank you for the prompt 💜

It was just after midnight when Tommy got the call.

How very Evan it was for him to have not updated his emergency contact information.

Evan.. who didn’t make a habit of keeping paperwork up to date.. but had thought to update his emergency contact information to Tommy. (Probably around the time when he had been hoping they’d be moving in together.)

Tommy’s stomach sank; unsure if he’d earned the right to be there for him when he woke up.

Because Evan had to wake up.

Buck wheezes at the vaguely familar-looking man standing at the front of the room- granted, they were under a minute late, but he felt bad because he had promised Maddie he'd get Jee to the library art class at least 15 minutes early because Jee always likes sit at the very front and absolutely loves "Mr. T."

Mr. T glances at him with an amused smile. "No, uh we were just getting started. Hi, miss Jee, who is this?"

"Hi! This is my uncle Buck. We were supposed to be here earlier, but he was helping people in that biiig car accident," she explains matter of factly.

"Oh? What a coincidence, so was I."

Maybe that's where Buck had seen him. "Oh were you on the ground-uh- what station?"

"More like a little above ground," the man winks. And that was, oh.

"The chopper? That was you? Holy-

"Maybe we could discuss this later?" Mr. T smiles, gesturing behind him to the class and Buck suddenly remembers why they were there.

It's in the line of his shoulders. He's certain no one else realises, but Cody has been watching his General for so long now that the minute change in position speaks volumes to him about exactly how thin Obi Wan's ability to cope is stretched.

The briefing, thankfully, wraps up only a few minutes later. He waits until the room has cleared out, leaving the two of them stood side-by-side, alone, then threads their fingers together.

"You don't have to pretend to be alright now," Cody whispers, smiling as the rigid line of Obi Wan's spine gentles with the words.

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I was tagged by @woundedsoul12, @jenn2d2 and @notyourmamasdeerbat

here have some sentences that I don't know where they belong and they're unpolished

"I don't know what to say" He remained silent for a long time, with nothing but the crackle of the hearth reaching through the quiet to ground them in the moment "I thought of you. Often. Though I tried not to." He sighed. "I tried to remember that there was no chance you were coming back. It was painful for a very long time. I'd lose myself in the memory of the moments I had with you and when I finally had the wherewithal to pull myself from reverie, there you were, staring at me from the pages of my notes. "So I occupied myself. I focused on my work, tried to find someone that understood me the way you did. But it wasn't… the same. But I resigned to life without being completely fulfilled. I found contentedness in that. When Bellara's letter came… and things started to sound, grave, I prepared myself. "But I never thought, I never thought it could be you." "You knew it was me?" "My soul would recognize itself anywhere."

Thanks my dearest @lilacella for the tag. I love that nobody seems to know the rules of this. I'll follow your lead, my friend. Five sentences from any WIP, you say?

Here it is: five sentences from a WIP chapter of I solemnly swear:

'What are you girls doing here?' Potter asked as he pulled Maeve in for a hug. Because it felt churlish not to, Lily too extended her arms for a quick something - not quite a hug, obviously. 'Why do y'think?' Ciara asked, raising an eyebrow. Potter rolled his eyes before he went to stand next to Shafiq, who let her arm rest of Potter's shoulder. Lily had completely forgotten that Shafiq was Potter's cousin.

💙🧡 A snippet of sappiness ...

It's not what George was looking for in the cupboard, behind plastic containers of Posca pens and sketchbooks, neatly packed CDJs and a frankly astonishing number of shoeboxes, at least half of which, it turns out, are filled with beaded bracelets from fans. It shouldn't have been possible to find it, because George had got the distinct impression that Lando chucked it years ago – “What would I do with that, mate? Got the real thing now. Much better.”

Nonetheless, several house moves and one possibly-a-bit-of-a-fib later, there it is, carefully folded so it fits into a Nike Air Force 1 dust bag, in the deepest recesses of their cupboard. George tucks the blanket with his face on it back into the space it came from. “Sentimental git,” he murmurs as he continues his search. 

Bruce watched Edward as he leaned over the car hood and began tinkering with the inner workings of the Batmobile’s engine.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” He asked. “I can just take it to a mechanic-“

“Nonsense,” Edward interrupted, raising a finger as he did so. “You have standing before you a master of all things mechanical. What do you keep me around for if not for my prodigious intellect?”

Bruce said nothing, though if Edward could see the way his eyes drifted downward, he’d have choice words for him. The man did have a certain…appeal, dressed down and bent over the way he was. “As long as you’re sure. Keep an eye on the anti-theft mechanism.”