Seven Sentence Sunday - Blog Posts

Late Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by: @illarian-rambling

Rules: Post seven sentences from what you've been working on

Before I post the sentences, I am going to apologize for the late response (Seriously, two days? I must be lazy-). The real reason is that I never got the notification or accidentally cleared it before I could notice. I'll do better next time. Or turn it into fourteen sentence Sunday. Who knows.

Also these seven sentences are not the ones directly after the ones for my last post. Just from a random point. (Though I should have done seven sentences of lore because I was last working on lore for this story/book thing-)

"Father of the Underworld, I thank you. I will be traveling for a while and won't be able to pray during that time, but I ask that you protect me on my journey beyond my Clan just as you have during my life with my Clan," Hades lowers her head, feeling the usual chill of the Underworld that she gets when she prays to her personal god. "I need to take this shrine apart for now, but I will rebuild it in my new home. Thank you for your protection, Lord Hades."

She raises her head as the chill fades, her eyes settling on the amulet that hangs from her shrine. It symbolizes her connection to her personal god with a pendent of a bident with Cerberus' three heads resting between the prongs and a narcissus flower resting atop the center head, a blending of three symbols that represent Hades.

Just as I did last week, I am not tagging people because I am still new to this.

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thanks for tagging me, @illarian-rambling , even though I have barely anyone to tag. This is the first time I've been tagged on Tumblr. Hope I did this right.

Rules: Post seven sentences of what you've been working on (:

The forest is alight with life, the rustling of leaves, and chatter of animals. The trees sway in a soft breeze, creaking and groaning as some limbs are stressed by the weight of leaves and wavering in the wind. Within a small clearing, a young girl sits, her eyes closed as her silver hair sways in the breeze. Her head is tilted down, her lightly tanned skin glowing where beams of sunlight hit her skin. At her side is a sheathed sword, her left hand resting on the sheath. She takes a breath, raising her head.

"Elders of the Clan, I make a request!"

This is a new story. That is all the context I will give. Honestly, I have no idea how to do these things. So I'm not even going to tag anyone because I am an uncertain bean.

(Do not take this as a "I did not want to do this." I would love to do these things in my tiny little corner here. I just won't tag anyone.)

(This is potentially a serious story. Potentially.)

Seven Sentence Sunday!

Happy Sunday everyone! And thank you for the tags @happiness-of-the-pursuit, @littlemisskittentoes, and @blairwaldcrf! 💙

Here's a snippet from my eSports AU I'm working on that I really need to get back to, one of these days. The game is Valorant (because I'm a degenerate, stay with me here) and Alex and Henry play on opposing pro teams. 😁

Having your team's marketing and PR manager be your sister is a funny concept to Alex. On one hand, he's able to talk shit with her about the games and not have to explain the context, but he also feels weird having her go through his accounts during social media checkups every other month on the other. He'd feel a lot better about it if it were someone he didn't grow up with. “Nice try, but you’re dreaming big if you think you can draft statements for me lil bit.” “I can make a mean notes app apology, you know,” Alex proudly states, pointedly ignoring the disagreement that immediately comes. June scrunches her nose at him, “A point in time I hope we never reach.” There’s laughter from his team, who all receive Raf's embrace with delight.

I shall now be tagging you people in return (with absolutely no pressure, as always): @read-and-write-, @inexplicablymine, @kiwiana-writes, @44whispers, @14carrotghoul, @affectionatelyrs, @rockyroadkylers, @treluna4, @user-anakin, @movetoheavens, @hypnostheory, and anyone else who comes across this post! (Am I allowed to re-tag those who tagged me? Because if yes, all three of you too.)

Seven sentence Sunday 

Thanks to @allatariel for tagging me! (And for the adorable fic snippet.) It is very definitely no longer Sunday, but anyhow. 

This is from a fic idea that’s been rolling around in my head for a year or so at this point. 😬 (Also fun fact the first outline of this had about eight elevator scenes.)

Anyway, here’s wonderwall the Houston ‘83 awkward airplane tarmac handshake line, except as the Moscow ‘74 awkward airplane tarmac handshake line:

The line seems to stretch stonily, noiselessly on, and Margo feels herself start to despair a little. A step to her left, as she wonders whether to introduce herself yet again. It could be pure desperation that has her imagining this man’s gaze is more encouraging, or it could be true. She offers her hand. “Margo Madison.” “Sergei Orestovich Nikulov,” he says immediately, takes her hand firmly, though much more gently than the guy before him. Margo’s so grateful to hear someone other than herself say something that she could practically kiss him.

Seven-Sentences Sunday

Okay so it’s more than seven again. But sometimes it just needs to be.

Taking the citrusy fruit, he gives her a small smile. “Thanks, Fah. For everything. For fixing me up. For taking care of me. For coming with me.”

“Someone need to keep you in line. Make you stop and take care of yourself. You die out here without help.” She speaks bluntly and it’s something TK finds refreshing.

It isn’t long after the sun sets that TK drifts off to sleep. They discussed and agreed to take shifts so they could keep an eye on each other. Fah insists on TK sleeping first. He doesn’t fight her on it as his eyes are drooping without his consent.

After a few hours of sleep, Fah shakes TK to a state of awareness and he bolts up right, wincing as he grabs at his ribs.

“Enough for you. I sleep now.” She speaks and lays down getting comfortable and using his leg as a pillow.

more than SEVEN-SENTENCES SUNDAY The new story is coming along well... here's a tease of it.

@ronenstrand

TK closes his eyes just to rest them. He’s so tired. He must have drifted off because he doesn’t remember the door coming to a stop. He doesn’t remember getting up, walking, or moving at all. When he opens his eyes, he’s in an overcrowded hospital. There’s chatter, moans, soft screams, and crying. It’s not loud, but it’s noisy. His head is pounding, his throat is dry, and he just wants to get up and find Carlos. 

When he sits up, he winces. The pain in his ribs is excruciating. He folds his arm around himself only to find that he’s been bandaged. The piece of metal in his thigh is gone, and it, as well as his calf, have both also been bandaged. Though incredibly grateful, he’s confused as to how he got here; how he had been so out of it that he remembers none of it all.

SEVEN SENTENCE SUNDAY

A little more than seven sentences, but hey... who actually follows that rule? Hahaha! Enjoy this little bit from Chapter 4 of RUINED. I should hopefully have this chapter posted within the next couple of days.

@ronenstrand

Carlos cradled TK's face in his large hands, his fingers trembling slightly as he leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was fervent and filled with an intensity that spoke volumes, a passionate declaration of feelings he had kept buried. As they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched, creating an intimate connection that seemed to suspend time. Slowly, Carlos used his thumbs to gently brush away the tears that traveled down TK's cheeks, each droplet glistening in the soft light. “I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, heavy with emotion and the weight of their impending separation.

“I’m going to miss you too,” TK whispered, his heart racing as he pressed his lips against Carlos’s once more. The warmth of their connection enveloped them, and in that moment, he felt an overwhelming wave of emotion. “Carlos, I lo…,”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it. It’ll just make it harder for me to leave.”  He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears spill down his cheeks as he battled the overwhelming urge to voice the very words he had just silenced in TK. “I have to go.” In that fleeting moment, he leaned in for one last kiss, pouring every unspoken emotion—fear, love, and sorrow—into that brief encounter, desperate to convey what words could never express.

SEVEN SENTENCE SUNDAY

I wanted to join in the fun of this little game and share more of my first ever Tarlos story, Ruined - Chapter 1 is up now. This little bit (maybe a bit more than 7 sentences) is from Chapter 2. I am hoping to get chapter 2 posted in the next couple of days.

With TK pressed up against the bathroom door, Carlos kissed along the man’s neck, savoring the taste of his skin. With one hand gripping tightly at TK’s hair, the other slid between them, unfastening his jeans and invading his space. Fingers coiled around his hardened cock, stroking and tugging in a frenzied manner. 

TK mimicked Carlos’s actions. His hand dipping into Carlos’s pants and gripping onto his cock. They pawed at each other and kissed in a way that made them seem desperate for each other. 

They switched from kissing along each other’s necks to bruising kisses against each other’s lips and back to the necks again. 

Bang bang bang “Hey! Some people gotta take a piss out here!” 

Carlos grunted in response. He had every intention of ignoring whoever that was. His hand gripped tighter around TK, tugging slowly and pulling long drawn-out moans from him.

  Bang bang bang “I’m getting the manager.”