#this was drawn for I think an October challenge I don’t remember

[chibishortdeath]

Reinhardt and Rosa hehehehehe :3c. I don’t have the 64 games yet but I need them ong fr.

Also would it be weird to post like a ton in one day if possible???

[daydreamerdrew]

Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

All-New Captain America: Fear Him (2014) #1-6

These issues were published as online vertical scroll comics across October 2014 to November 2014. All were written by Dennis Hopeless with Rick Remember. The layouts were drawn by JL Mast and G. Geoffo, which were finished by Szymon Kudranski and colored by Andres Mossa.

This series had the same villain as the graphic novel Ghost Rider/Captain America: Fear (1992), which was written by Howard Mackie, penciled by Lee Weeks, and inked by Al Williamson. Unfortunately, I don’t find Dennis Hopeless’ voice for the Scarecrow as compelling as Howard Mackie’s.

I largely really like how Szymon Kudranski drew Ian Rogers. But, unfortunately, there were prominent child characters and I found the way he draws children to be awkward.

In this story the Scarecrow develops a fascination with Ian. The series portrays the Scarecrow as literally feeding off of people’s fear, and at one point he uses a fear pheromone that makes people act like zombies through their intense flight-or-fight response. In issue #1 he excitedly thinks of Ian as “a challenge,” and he says in issue #3, “I’ve spotted that beautiful beast. And I’m through filling up in bread. […] Tonight we eat meat.” The graphic novel portrayed the Scarecrow as having the power to immediately cause terror in the people he was physically near and as having the psychological need to “open them and let out the fearful thing inside them,” by which he meant kill them.

It was never mentioned in this series that the Scarecrow has or used to have a fixation on Captain America, which Steve explained in Ghost Rider/Captain America: Fear (1992) as because he “could not live with the memory of his beloved mother being abusive so he transferred all the blame to his father,” and then “he transferred the intense hatred he felt towards his father to me.” When Sam asks Steve for information about the Scarecrow in issue #2, Steve just reads from his Wikipedia page. You wouldn���t know from just reading this series that the Scarecrow was a Captain America villain. But I think it would have been interesting to have him learn that Ian is the son of someone else he’s been fixated on, though it’s for a different reason. The Scarecrow also has no special reaction to fighting Sam, who is the current Captain America.

The idea that Ian doesn’t feel fear is brand new to this book. The Scarecrow describes him in issue #1 as “Doesn’t fear pain. Doesn’t fear death. Not a drip drop of terror to be had.” Ian thinks in issue #6, “Where I come from, losers don’t live long enough to make an impression. […] I still don’t know much about losing. Know even less about fear. But for the first time that I can remember- I’m afraid… this is a fight I won’t win.” And after the fight he complains of fear, “I just got a taste and I couldn’t even move.” Sam has to explain to him that “Courage isn’t about never being scared. It’s about facing that fear. Standing up, pushing through, and doing the damned thing anyway.”

Ian did not come across in Captain America (2013) #1-10, which was written by Rick Remember, as someone incapable of fear. He came across as a normal person capable of the normal range of human emotions. The first instance that comes to mind when I think of scenes where Ian would have been scared is in Captain America (2013) #5 when Steve, as his body was being taken over by Zola, told him, “Promise me, the first sign of a change- you put that pistol to my head and you kill me, Ian.” I believe Ian was 12 or 12 years old at the time. Also, Ian said in Captain America (2013) #24, “I always stand up. Like my dad taught me,” but I suppose for the purposes of this series’ approach to Ian’s characterization we’re meant to understand that as only in the face of physical pain.

When Steve encountered the Scarecrow, who’d only recently gotten his powers, in Ghost Rider/Captain America: Fear (1992), he thought, “heart racing… nervous system super-charged… I’m feeling scared.” He then found that he could “h-hardly stand,” but afterwards thought, “Starting to calm down… These new powers took me by surprise… Next time they won’t!” And that was true.

Also, Ian thinks, in issue #6, “If I’d listened to my partner from the start… fought alongside him instead of taking on the whole world by myself… we would’ve taken down that monster down together. Instead this fight comes down to me. All alone. Just like I wanted.” I like this addition to the hot-headed and bad-at-teamwork characterization for him that I am first reading in this series. That wasn’t how he was characterized when he was a child, being raised by and working as a team with Steve, in the first arc of Captain America (2013). But I can understand that after 10 years of fighting on his own, for the Phrox, but being distant from them, Ian would have anger issues and feel more comfortable with “taking on the whole world by myself.”

And I like a moment in issue #5 when Sam, hallucinating because of the Scarecrow, thinks, “Wait, what are you doing? If any of this is real, he won’t survive that fall. And Captain America doesn’t kill. Screw that- Sam Wilson doesn’t kill.”

the Nick Fury stories in Strange Tales (1959) #146-149

These stories were in issues published across April 1966 to July 1966. The stories in issues #146-147 were credited as written by Stan Lee, though the Grand Comics Database lists Jack Kirby as an uncredited co-plotter. The story in issue #148 was written by Jack Kirby, and it’s explained in the issue that Stan Lee was on vacation. And the story in issue #149 was credited as written by Denny O’Neil, though the Grand Comics Database lists Jack Kirby as an uncredited co-plotter. The layouts for all these stories were drawn by Jack Kirby. For the stories in issues #146-148 the layouts were finished by Don Heck, with the first being inked by Mike Esposito, the second by Dick Ayers, and the third by Don Heck. And the layouts for the story in issue #149 were finished and inked by Ogden Whitney. All were 12 pages.

In the story in issue #146 Nick says of defeated “amphibian androids”, “They ain’t creatures! They’re tools… tools that wusn’t made good enough to do their job!” And Nick says, when they find more androids being grown like plants, that they’re “the perfect army” because “Ya don’t have ta feed ‘em- and ya can get all the replacements you need!” I think that Nick, at this point in his life, has had minimal experience with L.M.D.s and would think highly of human agents. But I find this pragmatic approach to “chemical men” interesting in the context of Nick’s later relationship with various L.M.D.s.

For example, in Secret Avengers (2010) #5 (written by Ed Brubaker; drawn by David Aja, Michael Lark, and Stefano Gaudiano) Nick told a sentient L.M.D. of himself, which he was about to have killed, “You ain’t alive… you’re a robot, when it comes down to it.” The L.M.D. retorted, “Except I’m not programmed. I have consciousness and memory… Isn’t that life?” And Nick said, “I don’t know… I’m not a scientist or a philosopher… I’m a soldier, and you’re a friggin’ dangerous weapon.”

I’ll also note that the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents aren’t confident that they would have defeated the “hammer-head androids” if they’d arrived later because the androids are stronger than them, but because the agents arrived when they did “The vibrations shook them loose from their hydroponic tanks” and the androids only stampeded mindlessly, not being controlled by anyone. Also, Nick says of the androids they find still being grown in pods, that they aren’t dangerous because “they turn into lifeless fiber when they ain’t programmed for a mission.”

It’s said on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Heli-Carrier that “Colonel Fury’s personal security agents out-rank any other military men on this carrier!”

Later an angry Lieutenant General angrily refers to them as Nick’s “muscle-men” and says, “You agents of SHIELD are all alike… You believe in action first… and thought next! But, what can one expect when your leader is a course unlettered ruffian like Fury?” (One of the S.H.I.E.L.D. gets by bothered by how the Lieutenant General speaks when “talking about my chief..!”) And later the enemies of the issue say, as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents break into their base, “Incredible! We never credited Fury with so much intelligence!” But they still believe, “We have nothing to fear from a handful of blundering agents led by a muscle-bound clod like Fury!”

This story is the first appearance of A.I.M., who present themselves as “a society of the greatest intellects on Earth” and claims “we wish to benefit mankind!” But they argue that “so long as we are constantly harassed by men such as your Colonel Fury… so long as we must be answerable to men with such a lack of intelligence… such over-inflated eggs… we cannot offer our creations to SHIELD!” Then their representative to S.H.I.E.L.D. says in the story in issue #147, “We find his very appearance offensive! The idea of America’s highest-priority counter-espionage leader going around in his shirtsleeves.. unshaven, unkept, and making a mockery of your own language.. shocking!”

One member of S.H.I.E.L.D High Command says in the story in issue #146, “I always said that Fury lacked the polish, the background, to head a vital, world-wide force like SHIELD!” Another argues, “Perhaps.. but for a man who lacks so much, he’s done a pretty good job destroying Hydra… not to mention the Druids and other deadly menaces!”

In the story in issue #148 Nick has to be held back when he gets angry went the A.I.M. representative says, “I wouldn’t call Colonel Fury a traitor to freedom… but I feel the wrong man.. in the wrong place… may well serve that end!” And the Lieutenant General refers to “Fury’s bad executive image! He’s a top notch fighting man… who never stops fighting… He looks and acts like he hasn’t left his foxhole for twenty years.”

In the story in issue #135, when Nick was first offered the job of leader of S.H.I.E.L.D., he himself was skeptical. He said, “Ya can’t mean it! You gotta be kiddin’! You’ve got a million scientific gimmicks- rays- rockets- things I can’t even pronounce! I’m outta my league! I’m just a bare-knuckles kinda guy! A bar room brawler! They made me a Colonel, but I’m still a three-striper at heart! Where do I come off leadin’ a hot-shot outfit like this? I’d fall flat on my ugly pan!” Then there was an assassination attempt by Hydra at the meeting and Nick immediately took charge of the situation, and from there simply accepted the job.

In the story in issue #149, when Nick has seemingly killed himself in the meeting where he was being confronted over A.I.M.’s allegations (it was part of his plot against A.I.M.), the Lieutenant General says, “I can understand what made Fury take… that way out! I’m certain the judges would have ruled in his favor! No man is more fit to command SHIELD than Nick Fury!”

In the story in issue #146 Nick says that he and his agents “ain’t no super-heroes! We figger we’re bound to lose sooner or later,” as he explains that they’ve planted a bomb and are willing to blow both sides up, rather than let their enemies succeed in just killing them. And Dum Dum adds on, “If we haveta cash in our chips, it’ll be kinda nice to know that you two crumbs is joinin’ us!” Then in the story in issue #147 Nick refers to his position at S.H.I.E.L.D. as “this crummy, thankless suicide job.” And one of his agents says, “As director of SHIELD, Colonel Fury is the object of more assassination attempts than any living man!” Though later Jasper says that “every rule in the manual forbids our director to undertake suicide missions!”

In the story in issue #148 Dum Dum rushes to save what turns out to be an L.M.D. of Nick. The narration describes, “Almost maddened by Nick Fury’s plight, Dum-Dum, the eternal friend, plunges into the white hot blaze!” And, “Dum-Dum is beyond all reasoning… he is swift and desperate in the inferno… and plucks from it the one man he prizes above all others!”

In the story in issue #149 Nick pretends to be an L.M.D. of himself.

At one point Nick thinks, “Even a gorilla like me looks good when he’s usin’ a Tony Stark weapon!”

Jasper thinks, “Anthony Stark is not the only inventor within the organization of SHIELD! While still a student at the Shield Academy, I devised this respiratory-powered projectile hurler! My weapons instructor foolishly imagined that I was merely playing a childish prank when I tried to explain how I adapted the lowly bean shooter to serve as a device for projecting a tiny radio transmitter!”

Gabe Jones says, “Mebbe Nick was wrong about these AIM guys! After my run-in with the Secret Empire… those cats seem downright tame! But, Mrs. Jones’ little boy Gabriel isn’t complainin’!” That phrasing about his mother is Izzy Cohen’s gimmick in Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos (1963).

When Gabe returns from his secret mission he purposefully startles Nick and Dum Dum as a joke. Dum Dum reacts, “Nobody ever scared me like that- ‘ceptin’ my *ugh* mother-in-law!” And then he says, cheerfully, “It ain’t my mother-in-law, this time! It’s someone even ornerier! How are ya, Gabe?” Dum Dum complaining about his mother-in-law is a running gag in Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos (1963).

In the story in issue #137 Nick was given a shirt that’s “actually a high explosive whose fibers have been specially treated! Once it is torn into strips, it can destroy any object it is wrapped around- after it has been exposed to heat!” I thought when I first read this that it was a terrible idea. Then in the story in issue #139 Nick escaped captivity by using his special shirt, wrapping it around the lock of his Hydra cell and lighting it on fire to make it explode.

We finally see the drawback to always wearing an innocuous-looking explosive in these stories. In the story in issue #149 someone uses a ray weapon to activate Nick’s shirt and he has to quickly get it off and away from himself and Dum Dum and Gabe while they are all locked in a room together. They just are barely able to get the shirt somewhere it won’t kill them before it explodes. And Nick recognizes, “That little stunt with the ray is just the sorta thing Hydra’d try! An’ only Hydra knew about the high explosive threads I wear!”

DC Comics:

Superman (2023) #19

This issue was published this month. It was written by Joshua Williamson, drawn by Dan Mora, colored by Alejandro Sanchez. It was 22 pages.

I enjoy the role reversal with Lois Lane as Superwoman, with her pressuring Jimmy to get pictures of the new superhero when it’s actually really her, and Lois enjoying having Clark’s powers. But I’m not really invested in the plot with Doomsday/the Time Trapper. And as the plot no longer revolves around Brainiac, and Lex Luthor is in a different, limited role because of his amnesia, I’m really only reading this book for Lena again.

In this issue we saw Lena briefly as she was blowing off or at least late for work at Super-Corp because she was trying to help her Dad remember his past. It is strange that they’re rebuilding their relationship in this context, as Lex was in prison and Lena was distant from him before the House of Brainiac event. My assumption now is that when Lex does get his memories back his initial main emotional response will be embarrassment at how he’s been acting without them, but I could be way off because I’m not that into this book’s characterization of Lex.

It stood out that Lena’s apartment came across as a dark, repressive place for them to hang out, particularly, but not entirely, because of the contrast of how bright it is outside when Lex looks out the window and decides to go on a walk. The tone that’s indicating probably just had to do with that the better path for Lex personally is not regaining his memories, but I think it would be more interesting if it also had something to do with Lex and Lena’s relationship.

the story “Doubt” in Batman: The Brave and the Bold (2023) #18

This 24-page story was published this month. It was written by Christian Ward, drawn by Patric Reynolds, and colored by Luis Nct.

I read this story because of a page I saw where Bruce was undergoing a mental attack that highlighted the insecurity that he’s stupid, which interested me.

Bruce’s emotional linchpin in the story is the memory of Alfred telling him as a child, when Bruce was nervous to speak at his parents’ funeral, “People care about you, and nothing you could ever do will change that, Master Bruce. Love is not based in performance. It’s deeper than that. You can trust it.” I ordinarily think of Alfred as emotionally cold and as contributing to Bruce’s developmental problems growing up. And sometimes comic book characters talk in a stylistic comics-speak that isn’t believable to real life, and that’s fine. But this moment was immediately acceptable to me, despite not falling under my usual expected characterization for the character, because it was such a realistic thing to be said in that situation.

[pokemonartextreme]

The Adventures of Faith the Eevee - Episode 2

Season 1, Episode 2: The Big Move-In!

September 14th dawned bright and clear in Greenville, South Carolina. The sun streamed through the window of Faith’s new apartment bedroom at Edgemont Apartments, casting a warm glow on the freshly unpacked boxes and the cheerful clutter of a new home.

Faith, a vibrant spirit with a passion for adventures, stood in her bedroom, hands on her hips, taking in her new surroundings. The room was filled with the buzz of excitement and the promise of new beginnings. Her F.L.A.R.E.S. team—comprised of dedicated friends and allies—was there to help her get settled. Maurice LaMarche and Rob Paulsen, guests who had become fast friends, were also present. Rob, as Pinky, and Maurice, as The Brain, added an extra touch of whimsy to the already lively scene.

“Well, this is our new home,” Faith declared, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “We’re going onward and upward, like the title of the first episode of Adult Party Cartoon, starring Ren and Stimpy... which Mom never lets me watch, by the way.”

Maurice, channeling The Brain’s deep, thoughtful tone, replied, “Indeed, Faith. It’s a new chapter, ripe with possibilities. We shall conquer the challenges of moving with strategic precision!”

Rob, in his Pinky voice, chimed in with his usual cheery demeanor, “Narf! And we’ll have loads of fun doing it, right, Faith? Like when we infiltrate the new apartment!”

Just then, Sharon, Faith’s mom, popped her head into the room. “Hi, Faith. Your brother Drew and I are heading upstairs to see Nani. You’ll be with F.L.A.R.E.S.”

Faith’s smile widened. “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you only take one of us to Nani’s. I think that was a great decision.”

Sharon’s eyes softened with affection. “Thank you, Noodles. We’ll see you later. Remember to get unpacked and settled in.”

“I will,” Faith promised. “I’m also glad you let me keep my cat costume for Halloween — it’s next month! I’ve been waiting to wear it since November 1st last Fall.”

Sharon chuckled and nodded before heading out with Drew. The door closed behind them, and Faith turned her attention back to her new room. As she started unpacking her belongings, she heard a familiar voice from the hallway.

“Hi, Sara!” Faith greeted warmly as her friend Sara entered the room.

Sara beamed at Faith and took in the vibrant new setting. “Hey, Faith! This place is awesome. I can’t wait to see how it looks when you’re all done decorating!”

____________________________________________________________

As Faith was busy putting her things together, her attention was suddenly drawn by a sweet, familiar sound—a soft, adorable meow. She turned to find Maurice LaMarche holding a cat carrier.

“Faith, Pinky,” Maurice said with a smile, “this is my cat, Leonardo, or Leo for short. He’s a longhair.”

Faith’s eyes lit up with excitement. “So, he’s like a tabby? Ooh, I wanna pet the kitty!” She playfully mimicked Yakko Warner’s signature move, followed by a cheerful “Goodnight, everybody!”

Rob, in his Pinky voice, added, “Narf! We should definitely add another cat adult joke to Animaniacs. People love the adult jokes!”

Faith approached Leo, who was now lounging comfortably on her cat costume, stretching out in a way that made her chuckle. “Hey, Leo. I need that costume for October, so don’t stretch it out too much!”

Sara, watching the interaction with a smile, said, “I’m glad you still have the costume, Faith. It looks like you’re already getting settled in!”

Faith nodded, her excitement palpable. “Yeah, I’m really happy about it. Maurice, get this. When I was carving pumpkins last Halloween with Sara, mine rotted because of the lack of moisture. I’m planning to carve pumpkins again this time with a pumpkin that’s nice and moist!”

Sara laughed, “That’s a great idea! You’ll have the best pumpkins on the block.”

Faith continued, “Oh, and my mom is going to make my new bed this weekend. She’s really good with stuff like that. It’s going to be awesome!”

[thehourlythoughts]

“Circles” 12:56am

My first memory of you—

I remember humidity sticking to my skin while a gentle summer breeze swept right by me. I loosely stumbled onto the back seat of your car with no choice or will. The night was filled with alcohol and I tasted like cigarettes. I was trapped in your quiet presence and silence broke when you stared at me through your rear view mirror. I stared back at the stranger looking at me, and then you spoke.

You lectured me about how crude I was behaving for a 16 year old, like an overprotective fatherly figure. My ears filled with disbelief and I was upset you challenged my decisions. In a weird sense, I was moved by your way of concern...concerned about a life you didn’t even know.

My memory is clouded like murky water with no reflection. But I do remember thinking about you, I was drawn and I never wanted to admit that.

The Now—

We laugh and talk about how silly we both were, maybe me more than you. And it crosses my mind how maybe something good could’ve came out, maybe our history could’ve began earlier...maybe we would’ve ended...maybe we could’ve lasted.

Never did I think I would see you again. I fall over and laugh to myself, because I did see you again. But our lives were very different. Two different tracks, but we now shared the same taste for alcohol. And you probably didn’t have any recollection of who I was.

Never did I think we would end up together. How did we come back to this full circle?

Your persistence put this circle into effect, and I’m happy you did.

The constant talks— I don’t think you ever let a day go by without saying a word to me. And when you tried to convince me so many times to hang out with you... I avoided you because I knew I’d fall for you. I’d fall for that charismatic nature of yours, and your ability to draw me in with invisible strings.

The after dark rides to my house— drunk and talking about anything and everything. Sharing each other’s taste for new music. And when I kissed you for the first time that warm night in October, I thought about that kiss over and over. I was afraid I had ruined something so good, but your lips were what I wanted.

I left everything I knew behind and jumped. I folded. I was missing something in my life; and it was you.

And now you have me spinning in circles, circles, circles. I’m falling and it’s not the alcohol anymore.

It’s you.

[thatsthat24]

Sanderstober 2021

Back due to requests from you all, I bring you a new art prompt list for this October! I loved getting help from friends a couple years ago, so I got help again. Remember, you can make art on any day, there’s no being late to a prompt.

If you’d like me to see em, just tag the creations with #Sanderstober. I really hope these inspire you in any way and are fun for ya!

Day 1: In traditional first-day manner, I’d like to see a famous landmark on Sep. 30th vs. that famous landmark on Oct. 1st. (Obviously most don’t change in reality, just… creatively fudge it, it’s spoopy season, for crying out loud)

Day 2: Minimalist drawing! In limited shapes/colors, depict the cast of your favorite piece of fiction!

Day 3: Re-imagine a Horror Movie… as a Disney Movie

Day 4: Re-imagine a non-superpowered character from any piece of fiction and give them superpowers! What powers would they most likely have that would fit their personality?

Day 5: Retcon Time! I need you all to take sad moments that have happened in stories (TV shows, books, or movies) and give them happy turnouts instead. Please.

Day 6: Character Swap - Take the hero and villain of a horror movie and switch their roles. - Submitted by Quil!

Day 7: Take the last meme in your phone and Halloween-ify it

Day 8: Draw a bouquet of flowers and each petal represents a part of yourself your proud of - Submitted by Tammy!

Day 9: I know this is an oldie, BUT IT’S A GOODIE cause I absolutely love what you all come up with each year: Draw characters from any TV show or movie in the style of a Tim Burton character!

Day 10: You know that Strawberry dress? Make it appropriate for Halloween season.

Day 11: Draw an iconic villain from a movie… as a Sailor Scout (GIVE ME THE CURSED IMAGERY) - Submitted by Artie!

Day 12: Take any event that has happened this year, 2021, and make it into a movie poster! Would it be a heart-warming movie? Or a horror flick? I guess it would depend on the event you choose lol

Day 13: Imagine the state/province/country you’re from as a person! What would that person look like? - Inspired by Dominic!

Day 14: Re-imagine your pet (or a friend’s pet) as a DnD character!

Day 15: Take any character from a Broadway musical, and re-imagine them as a Jedi or a Sith Lord!

Day 16: Draw an imaginary “Side” for the Sanders Sides series you wish or think could exist in the universe - Submitted by Foti!

Day 17: Writing OR Drawing prompt - There’s so many scary tales that come out of “sleepy” little towns. Create a Halloween tale that takes place in your “sleepy little town” (even if it isn’t that sleepy) using real locations, landmarks, and figures you’re familiar with! - Submitted by Valerie!

Day 18: Makeup Challenge! Create a Halloween makeup look, either on your face or on paper! - Submitted by Fariha

Day 19: Draw your favorite character in the Halloween costume you wore last year! - Submitted by Davi!

Day 20: Draw your favorite and least favorite Halloween candy as a hero and antagonist! How would they interact? - Inspired by Brei

Day 21: Attempt to draw a classic Halloween monster… with your less dominant hand. The most evil of drawing challenges…

Day 22: Depict any childhood game as if it were a high-stakes, potentially deadly competition akin to those you’d find in Squid Game.

Day 23: An oldie but a goodie - draw the character(s) from one piece of fiction in the drawing style of another piece of fiction (ex. Characters from Game of Thrones if they were drawn by the animators of Adventure Time)

Day 24: Take any planet or star and create how they might look as a person.

Day 25: Take any character(s) from your favorite series and depict how they might look in a different time period!

Day 26: Take your astrological symbol- or, really, any symbol- and create a dress or tux inspired by it…

Day 27: Depict any classic Halloween monster in a conventionally mundane job that they would actually be really good at. - Inspired by AJ!

Day 28: Take any Disney animal and imagine what they’d look like as a person!

Day 29: Re-imagine a classic fairy-tale… if it took place in present day.

Day 30: Take any two characters from the DC/Marvel universe and imagine what their fusion character would be… (ex. Captain Marvel/Iron Man = Iron Marvel)

Day 31: And to take it on home, let’s return to a classic - depicting any character(s) from your favorite piece(s) of fiction having fun on Halloween!

And that is it!! Hope you all enjoy these prompts and have a wonderful Halloween!

[dedkake]

5 fictober 5+1 october 2022 challenge drabble sets + 1 extra drabble

iii. october 13-18 | fictober | angstober | who we once were, t, .6k

“I don’t want you to do that,” Sumner says, as if John needs to be told he’s worthless to know it. He’s not about to forget a single one of his failures, not even out here in the unknown.

below or on ao3: five au teams that messed up and one that got it just right

-

“I don’t want you to do that,” Sumner says, as if John needs to be told he’s worthless to know it. He’s not about to forget a single one of his failures, not even out here in the unknown.

“Don’t do that,” Elizabeth says. Rodney knows he’s useless in all the ways that matter out here. His brain’s only going to get them so far when they abandon the city.

“Stop it,” Bates says. Aiden understands that he isn’t experienced enough for this, not yet. Out here in Pegasus, he’s never going to have the chance to prove himself, either.

- -

Ronon puts his hand on his blaster. It’s been years, but he still remembers how Teyla had been so still, lifeless on the floor of Michael’s lab when they’d found her.

But here she is again, beautiful, confused, cautious, alive where she sits.

Sheppard’s as far back from the replicator bed as possible when he says, “Teyla.”

“Colonel,” Teyla says. She sounds like herself. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Sheppard says, but shakes his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. I don’t know.”

This mistake is going to bite them in the ass, and Ronon bets it’ll be soon.

- - -

“What are you doing?” Sheppard asks, his head rolling to track Rodney.

“It’s okay,” Rodney says, his throat tight.

There’s a Marine at the door, Lieutenant Forbes maybe, but Rodney isn’t about to leave.

Sheppard winces as his blood is drawn. “What’s happening?”

“You have unique genes, Mr. Sheppard,” Carson says, but Sheppard’s still looking at Rodney.

“The President just needed to ensure your cooperation,” Rodney says, stepping forward. He places a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder. A month ago they’d been sharing a bed, but here he is, party to Sheppard’s detainment.

Ford raises his gun. “Hands off the prisoner.”

- - - -

Teyla’s in the infirmary and despite Lorne’s assurances, John knows it’s his fault. He shouldn’t be on missions. He should never have left Earth at all.

McKay pulls him closer, but it makes John’s stomach turn.

“You’re looking, but you don’t see,” John says.

“I told you not to talk to the Wraith,” McKay murmurs, kissing him too gently.

John closes his eyes, imagines the Wraith sliding between his thoughts, imagines how it would feel to have his life drained, imagines lying in the desert, waiting to die. The Wraith is the only one who knows exactly what John’s worth.

- - - - -

“Are you serious? Twelve percent?” Rodney shoves the ZPM unceremoniously into his case. They all know that won’t be nearly enough, not with the Enemy on the doorstep.

John has his gun on the priest by the door. Once, they might have bartered for the ZPM, worked with the people of this planet to reach a mutual accord. Maybe, someday, they’ll be able to afford such niceties again.

“We are not who we once were,” Teyla says, switching positions with John, letting him take point for their retreat.

Ronon pushes Rodney past her. “Yeah, well, we ran out of time.”

+

Rather than the peace and quiet she’s looking for, Elizabeth finds Sheppard in the lab.

“I don’t know how they did it,” Sheppard says, glaring at the whiteboard.

“John,” Elizabeth says. “I don’t think this is your problem. Not anymore.”

Sheppard doesn’t look at her, keeps staring at the board. “He should’ve died,” he says, like he’s angry at Rod for returning.

He’s not really angry, of course. Elizabeth isn’t either. She doesn’t know how they would’ve survived the gap Rod left behind.

“Go to the party,” Elizabeth says, steering Sheppard toward the door. “Maybe you’ll find some answers there.”

also on ao3

[joezworld]

Sodor's Lightshow

Hey, so @sodorgazette is doing a holiday challenge/ event called Sodor Lightshow. I imagine that this will be easier to do as an artist, but I'll make do with what skills I have.

Fic below! ↓

2021, Tidmouth

The shed was silent as the TV producers followed the Fat Controller out of the shed.

“But it’s October,” James said finally. “Why would they do a Christmas commercial now?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Gordon sighed. “By the time they’ve finished it, it will be Christmas!”

The other engines in the shed looked excited, but Edward was concerned. “I don’t like the idea of us being ‘screen tested’ or anything like that.” He said to shed at large. “If they only pick one of us, it means the rest of us might get our feelings hurt.”

“Then don’t participate!” This was from Oliver. “But I think that I’d be a great ‘holiday train’!”

“You?” Henry looked prideful. “Not to hurt your feelings, but you’re too small for this. Those people said that the commercial would have an engine pulling containers - I’d assume being large enough to pull containers is a prerequisite.”

“They also said that the engine needed to be ‘iconic’, which I think is more of a pre-whatever you said than being the right size! I’m plenty iconic - I’m Great Western, after all!”

A groan rolled through the shed at this, and Oliver opened his mouth to retort when Tornado cleared her throat, completely missing Thomas’ attempts to keep her from speaking. “Um, Oliver, I don’t mean to boast or anything, but if they’re going to pick a really famous engine… well, let’s be real - it’s probably going to be me.”

“You?! When Thomas is right next to you?”

“I don’t want to be in a Christmas commercial!” Thomas yelped, not expecting or wanting to be drawn into the conversation. “I don’t like how commercialized it’s become.”

“Oh hauld yer wheesht!” Donald grumbled. “Yer so commercialized there’s a store of ye at Knapford station! Ye jus’ don’ wan’ ta do it ‘cause yer entire branch line would hold it over ya smokebox for the next year!”

“Yes, but that’s not Christmas. Christmas is special. And speaking of not being able to forget things, I distinctly remember that signal box outside the big station not having a bullseye painted on it at one point.”

Donald wheeshed angrily at this.

James, now having a minute or two to think, (which was just as dangerous as him speaking without thinking) spoke up. “Actually, it’s probably not going to be any of us,” He said, drawing jeers from Henry, Oliver, and Tornado. “Considering how Daphne and Wendell have basically made Christmas ‘their’ holiday.”

Tornado got a headache every time that someone mentioned Daphne so casually, (How they could be so casual about an engine appearing from the ether is something that she just didn’t get) and she tried to move the conversation away from that direction. “I mean, didn’t they say that they wanted a steam engine? If they wanted a diesel they could just do it with a 66 or someone else, right?”

Everyone else looked thoughtful at that, before James spoke up again. “Well then, I guess they’ll just have to pick me!”

Edward and Gordon groaned in unison as the conversational gauntlet was thrown down, and the other engines immediately began arguing.

“Oh please, they’re gonna pick me!”

“Excuse me, but which one of us actually pulls container trains on a regular basis?”

“They can use computers or something for that! I look the part!”

“Ye? Yer too wee and ye knoo it!”

“Well it’s not like they’re going to pick you!”

“Wanna bet?”

At the word ‘bet’, a trio of eyes widened, and for one fleeting moment Edward, Gordon, and Thomas all shared the same thought.

“Why would you say that?”

“You are all too old for this kind of reckless competition-”

“Christmas is not a competition!”

But it was too late. Word of a “Christmas competition” soon spread across the island…

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

“Are you using those decorations for anything?” Henry asked Dennis, the Tidmouth station master as he opened a supply closet.

Dennis looked into the closet and found it to be filled with Christmas decorations. He looked back at Henry. He shivered, remembering exactly what had happened the last time the big engine had taken an interest in a holiday. “Yes. Storing them until Christmas.” He said, shutting the door and locking it securely.

Henry had the gall to look put out over this, and for a moment Dennis felt sorry for him, until he looked down the platform. The station’s pub had a pumpkin-flavored seasonal beer on tap, and had put out a jack-o-lantern shaped advertisement for it.

Every member of staff who walked by the plastic pumpkin, with its jagged teeth and red LED eyes, had shivered slightly.

Dennis had no sympathy for Henry.

-----

Thomas groaned as he tried in vain to sleep. Tornado had spent the night at the Ffarquahr sheds, and was trying - with some success - to get Bloomer into the “holiday spirit”.

“Do tHey kNOw it's ChRIstMas time at all?

Here's tO yOU

RAISE a glAsS fOR EVeryoNE”

“Okay, well, we can still work on it!”

Tornado might have had the voice of an angel, but Bloomer sounded like a cement mixer full of gravel.

“I envy Percy right now.” Thomas grumbled.

“Isn’t he getting his boiler replaced?” Toby asked sleepily.

“YES.” Thomas and Daisy snapped as one.

--------

“I say,” Daphne said, her voice reaching an unusually low tone. “I am most insulted that we weren’t even considered.”

“Maybe they didn’t know?” Wendell tried his best to defuse the situation.

“It would make them amongst the last to know!” She scoffed. “I pull their dratted containers all the time!”

“Are we sure that they’re only going to pick one?” Delta asked from the next road in the diesel shed. “I’m certain we could do a pretty good double act - if it’s me and Bear we’ve already got the colours down!”

“Mm,” Bear said, half asleep. “They wanted a steamer for some reason, I’m afraid.”

“Really? Why?”

“Couldn’t begin to speculate.” Bear yawned. “Henry thinks it's because the TV show only focuses on the steam fleet.”

Delta looked murderous at that, and Daphne just looked even more determined.

“Well then,” She said. “I shall just prove to them what they’re missing out on, won’t I?”

James, who was sitting next to Delta with his eyes shut, but wasn’t yet asleep, suddenly regretted saying anything at all!

-----

The sheds at Wellsworth were quiet.

“So,” BoCo ventured. “I hear talk of a commercial being shot soon?”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to get involved in that too!”

“Oh no, but I think that puts us in the minority.”

“Oh thank goodness!”

-----

“They’re not going to pick us.” Emma said as they rolled into Barrow station. “We can’t pull containers!”

“But - but - but it’s Christmas!” Pip protested. “And everyone else is doing it!”

“And everyone else is going to be sorely disappointed when the TV people pick a steam locomotive like they said they were going to.” Gordon was waiting at the platform with the morning semi-fast and had heard them.

“Oh come on!” Pip was still insistent. “We’re pretty enough to be on TV! Just look at us!”

Emma and Gordon could only laugh at that!

----

“Lemme in!”

“No!” “You’ll steal our plans!”

“Ah dinnae care about yer plans! We’re gonna win wit’ or without yer stupid plans!”

“Oh! So our plans are stupid, are they?!”

Rex, Jock and the other small engines watched as Duck and Oliver barricaded the shed from Donald and Douglas. The inside of the shed was aglow with multicoloured Christmas lights, and a strand of tinsel was caught on one of Duck’s wheels.

“Do you know what a screen test is?” Bert asked, the small engines having gotten some idea of what the big engines were in such a state.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it means what they think it means.”

-----

Stephen Hatt walked into the Railway’s office complex from the platforms at the big station. “Can someone tell me why the engines are so excited about tinsel? The commercial shoot isn’t for a week or so.”

From deeper within the offices, a cry of “A WEEK?!” bellowed out, followed quickly by a string of unprintable epithets.

----

The head cleaner for Tidmouth sheds stared at his staff schedule in dismay. He was not a Sodor boy by birth, and this was one of those times where he wished he was. His entire staff was putting in unpaid overtime just to put up these bleeding Christmas lights (IN OCTOBER), and didn’t think there was a damned thing wrong with that.

“I can’t even bring this to Mr. Hatt…” He said in dismay. “He’s just as nutty as they are - he’ll say I’m the strange one!”

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

A week later, the film crew arrived for the ‘screen test’. The engines had been expecting a larger production, and were rather underwhelmed by the film crew being four men who showed up in a hired van.

The Fat Controller showed them around the yard, and once they’d decided on a potential filming location, they were taken to meet the engines. “- and, as you can see, they’ve all been very eagerly awaiting you!” He said jovially. “Christmas has become quite an event around here.”

He wasn’t wrong. The film crew actually did a double take at the sight of the engines:

Daphne and Wendell had been bedecked from buffer to buffer in their ‘holiday train’ lights, which covered their entire bodies in patterns of string lights, light up snowflakes, and the words “NWR HOLIDAY TRAIN” spelled out in giant vinyl graphics.

James and Delta were polished to a mirror finish, and their red paint was nicely offset by minimal amounts of green wreaths, tinsel, and lights that ran along Delta’s sides and James’ boiler in a rather tasteful manner.

Duck and Oliver were the inverse - their green paint was scarcely visible underneath a simply massive amount of red lights that ran all over them. It was honestly quite hard to look at.

In comparison, Tornado (who was appearing solo - Bloomer had decided not to attend - at Thomas's insistence!) looked almost normal. Multicoloured string lights were wrapped around her boiler handholds, exposed pipes, and her smoke deflectors, while green and red tinsel hung from her cab. Her buffers had been painted so they said MERRY and CHRISTMAS on them, and she’d changed the colour of her eyes so one was green and the other red. A Christmas song played softly over her speaker system, and she wore a headboard that read “TESCO HOLIDAY TRAIN”.

Henry, having been barred from any Christmas decorations by the station staff, had been forced to find an alternative, meaning that he and Bear were nicely polished but undecorated… other than a pair of enormous Santa hats that had taken three men to drag up onto the top of each engine.

Donald and Douglas were nowhere to be seen. They had managed to short out their AWS systems with their lights, meaning they couldn’t move until they were mended.

Finally, a ‘surprise’ entry came in the form of Abbey, one of the engines from the electric branch. She’d heard about the competition from engines at the junction and thought it would be fun to try her wheel at it. Where she’d found the massive bow, or the giant red ribbon to go with it, remained a mystery.

-

The director, a Mr. Pemberton, wandered around the engines with his cinematographer in tow. He was an excitable man, but knew very little about railways. His underlings knew this, and one of them whispered to Stephen Hatt when they were certain nobody was listening. “You do know that he’s not going to use any of these, right?”

“I don’t follow.”

“He’s been imagining this ‘ideal locomotive’ in his head for two weeks now. We don’t have much time left, and I’m not even sure if such a thing exists, but this is all a bit… much, especially for how long they’ll be in the ad for.”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” Stephen said kindly. “I’m sure that one of them will be suitable.”

“Oh good heavens!” Mr. Pemberton exclaimed, collapsing theatrically into a seat in the rear of the van. “I have so many ideas now, but none of these trains are what I want!”

The underling quirked an eyebrow in Stephen Hatt’s direction, as if to say I told you so.

“Well Carter,” Stephen said to the director. “They’re not the only engines on this Island, but what is it that you’re looking for, if not them?”

“Oh, it has to be fast!” The director said, gesturing with his hands as if to illustrate his point. “It needs to be easily identifiable, and totally iconic. None of this visually busy stuff you’ve got here - I’d almost take that one with the ribbon and bow, but the electric thingy at the top kind of ruins it - it needs to be clean, with as few lines as possible. Just a train, no more or less.”

Suddenly, he stood up, looking off towards the yard. “Something like that!” He exclaimed, heading off in that direction.

Stephen watched him go. There, in the distance, Osprey was arriving with a train of containers - with so many engines in Tidmouth for the ‘screen test’, those who weren’t participating were doing jobs outside of their usual duties. Coupled right up behind her was the special container wagon that was to be used in the commercial - it had been polished and cleaned before it arrived on the Island, and its TESCO branding stood out in the lights of the signal box.

The Fat Controller shook his head as he watched the man bound across the sleepers towards the train, several members of railway staff trailing behind him in an attempt to make sure the director wasn’t run over by a passing train. “I feel as though this should have been an obvious outcome.”

The ad aired in the middle of November, and drew some controversy from those on the fringes of the political spectrum due to a scene where Father Christmas showed his vaccine passport.

On the Island of Sodor though, there was a much bigger matter to be upset over…

“I’m almost glad I wasn’t in it.” Daphne said after watching it. “I certainly wouldn’t be so calm.”

Osprey was bemused. “I don’t understand why they wanted one of us for it - you could barely see me!”

“There weren’t even any lights!” Delta and Tornado both groused. “What kind of a Christmas advertisement doesn’t have us decked out in lights?”

“I’m more offended that Mr. Pemberton thought I was too ‘visually busy’.” Henry grumbled. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Bear soothed. Privately he was just as confused, but kept it to himself in the name of not making a fuss.

Oliver merely seethed.

Nobody could tell what Donald and Douglas were saying - they had slipped fully into Scots, and Siobhan had turned an acute shade of pink when she tried to translate.

Duck refused to talk about it.

“I mean, really!” Finally, James was livid. “They make us jump through all those hoops and go to all that effort just for that?!”

The ‘that’ he was referring to was Osprey’s appearance in the advertisement. It had come and gone in six seconds:

A shocked-looking snowman without a nose had been placed next to a railroad crossing. In its hands was a newspaper saying “STOCK SHORTAGES?” on the headline.

The crossing lights lit up, and a train rushed by - it was barely identifiable as Osprey, instead focusing on the Tesco container behind her.

A carrot was now in the snowman’s nose, and it looked much happier. The newspaper headline changed to say: “OR NOT!”

After that, the scene changed to an airplane trying to take off from a runway.

Gordon and Edward, meanwhile, had found the entire thing hilarious, and both of them took great joy in mocking the others.

“I did say that this would happen, didn’t I, Gordon?”

“Oh yes, you did. It’s strange how nobody else listens to us when we are clearly the smartest engines on the Island.”

“Nobody listened to Cassandra either, so perhaps there is some precedent.”

“How right you are!”

"As are you!"

"Ah yes! How wonderful it is - to be right!"

The other engines glared at them, but they were too busy chortling about how right they were and paid them no notice.

I’d like to say that everyone got over this silliness in due time, and that no retribution was planned, but that would be a lie - this is the Island of Sodor, after all!

[todoscript]

seeing you dressed as a cat for your first halloween together

character: shinsou hitoshi. genre: suggestive. warnings: mature. implied sexual content.

anonymous requested: shinsous reaction to seeing reader dress as a cat for their first halloween together? maybe he’s just become brave enough and started to call her “kitty/kitten”, so reader sees how far she can push him in her costume?? 😳🤭

author’s note: didn’t mean for it to get this long, but y’know. scenario portion underneath the cut!

shinsou hitoshi

your first halloween as a couple is celebrated a year after you and class a had graduated from u.a.

shinsou and you have been together since then, starting dating after you both confessed your long time crushes enduring throughout high school before forming a committed relationship while in the spring of your hero work

for this year’s halloween, the u.a. alumni had decided on a reunion/get-together to celebrate the occasion of spooks and sweets—a longstanding tradition you all just couldn’t seem to let go of despite now being fledging heroes out on the field

yes, this year, the group was planning a festive, joint halloween party along with former class b

of course, you made a point that the two of you would definitely be there the night of the 31st

and like every halloween party, everyone knows it’d be absolute heresy not to dress up in the spirit of the event

the most challenging part, however, was choosing which costume to wear

you thought the idea would come naturally to you, that it wouldn’t be much of a problem finding the character or creature you’d like to parade into the party as 

with a dash of makeup and some advice from the girls, you’re sure you could pull off any look, so long as the ensemble wasn’t too extravagant for your liking 

yes, something subtle, yet enticing seemed about right—a costume, that when thrown together, read “effortless” the moment you saunter down into the party with a grin painted on lips and confidence oozing out of your presence

though as much as you’d like to impress those attending, you’d be doubtlessly lying to yourself if you weren’t extra indecisive about your attire this year due to the keen eyes of your indigo-haired boyfriend

it is your first halloween together after all, and what better way to enjoy the event than to rile shinsou up, right?

now, it was only the matter of what got him the most hot and bothered—what’d you have to wear to have his heart fluttering and every nerve in his body receptive at just a simple glance at you?

and that’s when it hits you

ah, you thought, a couple of nights before the awaited event, why didn’t i think of this sooner?

- - - - -

Shinsou arrives at the foot of your apartment door the very evening the moon begins hanging in the sky, beholding all the festivities taking place on the anticipated thirty-first of October from its darkening haven.

He nearly trips on his way there, his costume’s frayed bandages dragging behind his feet. As anyone would have guessed, Shinsou decides to tackle the event tonight as your run-of-the-mill mummy—covered head to toe in an assortment of dreary-colored wrappings. Though far from flashy, the costume gets the job done without him having to put too much effort to look presentable, and that is enough for him.

Having texted you about his arrival at your doorstep already, Shinsou lets himself in using the spare key to your apartment you gave him a couple of months ago.

“Y/n? I’m here, are you ready yet?” His voice rings across the expanse of your residence, traveling across the thresholds and penetrating through your room, muffled by the closed door.

“Not quite, but I’m almost done! Wait for me on the couch, Toshi!” He hears you yell in response. Your voice is equally stifled but heard nonetheless. As told, he plants himself comfortably on the couch in your humble living space.

Leg folded over the other, his hands naturally find themselves playing with the edges of his bandages between the minutes ticking by. He checks his phone after the fifth-minute passes, acting wary about the time and pondering how long it would take to reach the party from your current location. Though in all honesty, he never truly cared much about punctuality. Shinsou has never really been a party guy himself, but he’d parade through this shindig just for you if it made you happy. Plus, it is your first Halloween together, after all. It only feels right to indulge in the festivities this year.

Speaking of, right after he presses his phone to sleep mode, he detects the footfalls of your heels clicking against the floor. It seizes his attention to look up and greet you; however, the words barely prevail past his throat at what stands before him.

“Hey, kitten—” His pet name for you is the last discernible thing uttered. You have to giggle at the way Shinsou’s eyes widen while he rakes over your form scrupulously, absorbing every detail available in his line of vision.

You stand at the threshold of your hallway clad in a tight, dark leopard printed suit that molds perfectly against your body—emphasizing its luscious curves—and paired with a set of black cat ears perched atop your head. Your makeup is executed in a way in which the look is sophisticated yet enticing, eyelids smoked in subtle shadows, and lavish lips lined crimson. Shinsou especially doesn’t miss the faint whisker markings drawn across your cheeks. 

“Yes~?” you reply playfully, tone teetering the line of innocent and mischievous as you turn around and show him a tease of a view, where he finds the cat tail hanging limply behind your beautiful ass. The way his teeth chafe the delicate skin of his bottom lip doesn’t go unnoticed as it urges you to continue playing along.

“What’s the matter, Toshi? Cat got your tongue? Your kitten’s right here,” you follow with a purr reverberating the roof of your mouth. It isn’t long until Shinsou catches on your act. There’s a shift in his violet eyes that glints darkly as you tauntingly spin your faux tail in place.

“Well come here then, kitty.” He motions you toward him in a hithering gesture. You give him a small show by swaying your hips, gliding in his direction. Drinking in your approaching form, he parts his legs, allowing you to stand between them.

Coming out of your room dressed like this, you knew what you were in for, and you’re positively elated by his reaction at your thoughtfully planned out costume.

Being that Shinsou’s few weaknesses consisted of cats and his girlfriend, it’s only natural that the man simply can’t seem to keep his hands off you, witnessing the best of both worlds before him. While his hands roam across the leopard print fabric veiled on your skin, you fiddle with the ragged bandages wrapped listlessly around his head, an amused grin on your lips.

“I see Pro Hero Mindjack decided to be a mummy this Halloween. It very much fits you, Hitoshi,” you comment. You manage to retain the stability in your voice despite Shinsou’s grabby hands pawing the back of your thighs, slowly wavering to the bottom of your ass.

“Mm, not as much as this suit fits you. Kitten, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss against your lower abdomen.

You continue, musing, “Oh? So I’m only gorgeous to you dressed as a cat then?”

Shinsou shakes his head coolly. “Of course not. You’re always so beautiful to me, you know that. But damn, sweetheart, you really outdid yourself tonight, dressing up as a naughty cat on Halloween. Just who gave you the idea?”

He palms the globes of your ass in his large hands, which sprouts a chuckle from you before you bend down to plant a delicate peck on his lips, mindful not to smear the freshly coated pigment on your own.

“You, of course,” you answer, honest about the appeal his pet name evoked for you to go about your choice of attire tonight. “Now come on, we have a party to get to, don’t we?”

Shinsou narrows his brows at your last statement, remembering your plans for the night. The image of you strutting down an aisle of partygoers—each of their deviating eyes staring at what’s clearly his—rubs him the wrong way. He’s never pegged himself overly possessive of you, but this costume of yours is much too delectable to be eaten up by anyone else’s eyes. So to be completely blunt, he doesn’t want to share.

As soon as you make a move to turn around to head toward the door, you’re foiled by two tattered arms wound on your waist that effectively pull you onto the couch.

Situated in the empty slot between Shinsou’s thighs, his mouth maneuvers to your right ear to whisper huskily, “Y’know… We could just celebrate Halloween together here. Alone.”

There’s an evident suggestion in his tone that you truthfully expected out of him. To his chagrin, however, you don’t allow him to indulge in his revelries yet.

“Ah-ah Mummy Man, we got all dolled up and everything—”

“Correction, kitty cat, you got dolled up, I did the bare minimum,” he counters, “and quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind getting out of these annoying bandages already.”

Aware it’s going to take a little more to get Shinsou to budge from his seat, you decide to bring out the heavy artillery. 

“Yes, but we did give them our word that we’d be there…” you reason, voice sounding sweeter to his ears that he starts wavering his stance. “And I want to see everyone in all their costumes. C’mon, please?”

Damn, for a sexy little thing, you sure know how to immediately flip a switch and act all cute. And how is he to resist when you’re fluttering your long lashes and bestowing him the sanguine light in your eyes. You watch as the fight within him gradually dissipates into dust until he demurely shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, let’s get this Halloween party over with,” he grumbles, and you tip his white flag with a kiss on his cheek when he glances away.

“Mm thanks, Toshi, I’ll make sure to reward you handsomely tonight, alright?” Your promises bloom heat in his cheeks, evolving into anticipation throughout his body.

“And who knows… maybe you can find some different usages for those mummy wrappings of yours later.”

[pyraelia]

October 18 Day 30: Ceremony/Catastrophic

“There’s nothing I need to do at this thing, is there?” Pyraelia lounged on her stomach on Fiorenze’s gigantic bed, chin propped up on her fists while she watched her sister try on tiaras and jewelry as the evening air breezed in from the open terrace windows.

Fiorenze squinted at her own reflection in the mirror, weighing the pros and cons of the way certain styles worked — or didn’t anymore — with the white streak in her hair, “Stand around, seem supportive, and look pretty mostly. Even if you’ve given up your titles you’re still family and this is a “big honor”,” she air-quoted sarcastically with one hand before setting the piece she was holding back in its velvet lined box.

“It’s not, is it? I thought it was weird that you were being given such a public post, it doesn’t make sense if you’re still supposed to be his Shadowhand,” Pyra picked idly at some of the fraying, gold embroidery on the silk duvet.

“The Grand Magister has finally figured out how to make me kneel and swear fealty in a way I can’t sidestep — public honors and ceremony. I can’t complain too much, it’s a lucrative position that gives me more ability and leverage with the Estate. Whether or not I’m to remain a Shadowhand is yet to be decided, though I don’t imagine I’d have to stop. People say the silliest things when they think they’re untouchable,” she held a large, dangling ruby up to one ear before putting it back in its box. “I’m going to have to wear red and gold, aren’t I? Ugh.”

“Yes. All gold would be too on the nose, I think,” Pyra glanced over her shoulder as Keranna glided in with the mail tray.

“Kynalie sent yours up from town, Lady Sunmote,” the elder elven woman offered her a couple of envelopes, still sealed and neat before moving to stand next to Fiorenze. The deftness with which she produced the letter opener from her sleeve was always an impressive reminder that her sister had some of the best protection loyalty could buy.

She sat up and shifted, letting her legs dangle over the side of the bed while she opened her own letters. The first was a posted flyer with coupons for a new restaurant opening in Silvermoon, which, while nice was terribly boring and immediately worth binning. The second gave her pause; it was Aerden’s handwriting on the front and they commed each other enough for physical mail to be unusual.

Whatever Keranna and Fiorenze were discussing about her own letters filtered away as she slid the little postcard out, with 'PYRABLAST' in lovely, hand-lettered comic book style. The heroine was recognizably her, wearing her favorite colors and with her prosthetic arm proudly and powerfully on display. He’d made her look so much cooler than she usually felt…

But it made her smile, and she could feel the heat from the flush on her neck and cheeks creep up as she thought about how kind it was for him to have taken the time, that he’d remembered the colors she liked, and that his perception of her was this amazing woman. Next to Fiorenze she’d always been a little gangly and awkward. Girlish, not winsome or charming. It felt good.

“Pyraelia?”

Her sister’s voice snapped her out of her little reverie. Fiorenze was looking at her through her vanity mirror, really at the postcard in her hand, as she pointed at something she could see in the silvered glass. The very slow, incredibly smug smirk she got whenever she found information of interest was one of her most worrying expressions and it made Pyra pull the little postcard in closer to her chest to protect her gift.

“There’s a darling little heart drawn on the back of whatever that is, I thought you ought to know.”

While that knowledge only served to make her blush redder, it certainly did make her feel even better. She slid off the bed and onto her feet before nodding at her sister, “Thank you. Good luck with your red and gold, I need to go find a frame.”

@aerdendios // @daily-writing-challenge

[unsympathetic-and-angst-sides]

Unsympathetic-And-Angst-Sides Event

Mini Bingos and Flash Bingos

Ao3 tag: (UaA_Sides2021)

Monday, September 27 - Sunday, November 7 [Length 42 days || 6 weeks]

What can I post?

Any form of creation that you can think of. You are not limited to this list. Fanfic (Long, Short, Drabbles), Art (sketch, colored, digital, hand drawn), stim/moodboards, picture and video edits, gif set. Just as long as it is all your original work. Please do not steal from others.

Who can participate?

Anyone can participate. This is a 13+ event. Nsfs is allowed, as long as you are 18+ and it’s tagged correctly. If you are not 18+ and you send in nsfs content I will block you from the blog and all future events.

Where do I post?

Here, on tumblr. If you don't feel comfortable posting you can always DM me and I can post it onto tumblr for you. Please remember to tag accordingly. #UnsympAndAngstSidesBingo is the tag you can use. There will also be an ao3 collection for fics posted on ao3.

When do I post?

You can start posting on Monday September 27. I’ll always be accepting posts past the due date (Sunday November 7) but I might not catch it.

How do I post to the ao3 collections?

When you’re posting your fic to Ao3 there should be a section called “Associations” then click on the blank box labeled “Post to Collections / Challenges”. Inside the box type in UaA and select “Unsympathetic and Angst Sides Event”. Visual imagery shown below.

When/How do I sign up?

Sign ups open on Monday, September 13th! I will send out bingo cards Friday, September 24th. Fill out the survey so I know what type of content you’d like. You can fill out a survey at any point during the month of September and October. It’ll take me up to 5 days to put your bingo together, so please be patient.

What do the bingos look like?

A Mini Bingo consists of 9 squares (3x3), while a Flash Bingo consists of 5 squares (1x5). Visual imagery shown below.

Extra information

If you choose discord as a way of contact please be on the lookout for MainEventDiscord#7414 in your discord notifications.

Please contact me if you need help or if you have any questions. Anon is always on.

Sign Up Here || Ask Questions Here

[boyd-speaks]

Welcome to the end of another year. This was kind of a weird one, because I found a lot of stuff didn't hit deviantart as soon as they were done. Things either never made it here, or sat around and eventually got posted in art-dump uploads. So I'm not 100% sure these match the month they're in, but I think they're accurate. As an overview, we can see a lot of the same style. What's odd, is when I was sifting through the months for images I noticed that it's not that I rarely did anything more detailed, but that when I did I clearly got inspired and did multiple pieces in the same month, so despite the quantity, very few got into the year in review. With all that said, let's get to the individual pieces.

January: A fitting start. I really thought I drew this later in the year. I like the poses and proportions I pushed out here. I feel like this one was pretty fast and done on a whim. Which is really most of my art.

February: This was timely. February was when I started running Rime of the Frostmaiden using Dungeon World. These are my player's characters, and i love them all. In classic rpg fashion, no one has opinions about what their characters look like until you draw them. Only then do they say, 'hmmm, nah, they're blonde actually' or whatever.

March: I also played a lot of Monster of the Week this year. While the Rime of the Frostmaiden game ran about 10 months, just finishing up in December, the Monster of the Week was much more episodic, and kind of just petered out after a few months. Anyway, this was one of the one-off characters I made who I adore. They met a cat.

April: More roleplaying games... It's also one of the group upload images. The featured image was character art for a West Marches style DnD game being broadcasted on twitch. This friend dies pretty fast. but I liked her a lot. If you click through you'll see fanart for the same game, and a monster I drew while gming monster hearts for the same session.

May: I love this pic! This was made to be a dramatic review of a monster in a different (yes a fourth) game, which this time I was running. The character was going to be a players new pc, that I wanted to reveal as this rad monster and see how everyone reacted, not knowing they were going to join. The result was less interesting than I hoped, but I still love this picture. Worth noting is that this one was competing with a very similarly drawn picture I drew for my brother's birthday. So check that one out too maybe?

June: It's father's day! I have already forgotten what else I drew this month that it went up against to get on this list. Looks like some very similarly drawn art (including more rpg characters) but it's nice using a drawing for my dad. I love my dad.

July: And here we see one of my month long challenges. I love doing these. I don't remember where this idea came from, but I'm so used to drawing characters I wanted to try little towns, like you might see as stylized impressions of them on a map that's not trying to be realistic. I dunno if that means anyone to anyone, but I know what I mean, and it was actually a very well received series. The featured image was my favourite one.

August: More DnD! This was actually my second character in the afore mentioned West Marches game. I did do some full body drawing of her, but when it came time to make a token, I just fell in love with this headshot I somehow came up with. The full image includes some more monsters for my own games (a sea hag, their child, a homunculus, and a creature made from a bunch of homunculi glomming together). The last image is another enemy monster that I sketched out mid session while running Monster of the Week.

September: It's my girlfriend! Not, the most accurate depiction, but I do like this drawing. I got her a skirt like the one she's wearing in the picture, for her birthday. Which is unfortunately cut off in the review image.

October: I don't really know why I used this image for October. I guess I just didn't want every picture to have the same art style given the opportunity, but october would definitely be better represented by the daily art series I did during it, which was all original monsters with no prompts. it was super fun.

November: For some reason I suddenly decided wild boars are cool and I needed a wild boar fursona. Because I have a lot of art friends, I sometimes feel like a should have, like, a definitive fursona, but, I just don't? Like animals are cool, and drawing yourself as an animal as rad. but none are like..  me. I guess? I dunno.

December: And then the next month I draw this! Heck yeah! Maybe I was just a fish the whole time and I never considered it! So yeah, I participated in an art secret santa this year, and the only thing I really had to go on was the recipient's favourite colours. As I sketched out this drawing and got inspired by a the idea of a mer-person with faux-facial hair modeled off of a lionfish, I just poured myself into it. I adore this drawing.

[anotherdailypromptgenerator]

Did you know that every year on the last week of October we celebrate Asexual Awareness Week?

This year, it's going to be from October 25 to October 31. To celebrate the fast-approaching event with the ace-spec community, we created a challenge open to everyone: A-Prompt A Day

If you're willing to take it on: Every day of that week, you must post something to fulfill the prompt for that specific day. You can create whatever you want with it: literary works, drawn artworks, painted artworks, informative posts, etc. Make sure to tag @anotherdailypromptgenerator and use #ace week 2020 and #aaw 2020 to really spread your work and ensure that we see it (because the adpg admin is also ace!).

We remember that we are a romance prompt generator; however, we know very well that some aces are aromantic and don't really like producing romantic content, so it is absolutely not necessary to make yours romantic. Our goal is to spread awareness--maybe tell a couple stories to remind some fellow ace-specs who have been feeling alone that they aren't at all.

Day 1 (October 25): INTIMACY * Intimacy is not synonymous to sex.

Day 2 (October 26): FORM * Form means limit: Clear boundaries ensure comfort.

Day 3 (October 27): LANGUAGE * There are 5 love languages; what's yours? ** Communication is key, don't you think?

Day 4 (October 28): POLY * The beauty of poly queerplatonic relationships!

Day 5 (October 29): GREY * It is a spectrum.

Day 6 (October 30): SENSUAL * I love hugs. Sometimes.

Day 7 (October 31): TRUST

Let’s celebrate Ace Week 2020 together! We are real. We are valid. We are strong.

[idreamofplaid]

Beneath the Smile

Summary: Jared’s struggle with depression bubbles to the surface, and the reader is there to love and support him through it.

Characters: Jared x Reader; Jensen

Word Count: 2119

Warnings: Discussion of depression

A/N: This fic was inspired by an Ask I got from @sandlee44. It takes place at the time of Jared’s Season 3 breakdown. It is, of course, fiction. All the love to Jared always for having the courage to share his personal struggle with so many of us fighting the same battle. 

It was two o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. I reached in the dark for my bedside table and patted my hand over the smooth surface until I found it. When I turned it over, the little screen brought a faint amount of light into the room. Then my eyes focused, and I read the name of the caller. Jensen. I sat straight up, instantly awake now, and pressed the button to answer his call.

“Jensen, what’s wrong? Jared? Is he okay?” My words were spilling out of my mouth at a rate to match the now pounding beat of my heart. 

“He’s okay, Y/N, but I think you should come to Vancouver.” I noticed that his voice was still in the register of Dean deep. At first, I thought that was because of the late hour, but as he kept talking I realized it was because he was exhausted. “I’m at Jared’s apartment now. I came home with him.” My heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. I was terrified of what Jensen was going to say next. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I struggled to find my voice. I had to ask, had to know, and Jensen wasn’t the kind of person to offer up information. The mere fact he’d called me told me just how serious this was, especially considering it was the middle of the night on the east coast where I was. “Tell me what happened, Jensen.”

I could practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out the best way to tell me whatever it was. “Jared had some kind of breakdown.” I grabbed a handful of my comforter and clutched it in my fist. “He was late coming back to set, so I went to his trailer to find him. He...he couldn’t get off the couch. He’d...just...shut down.”

“Why?” It was all I could think to say. My mind was racing, flying back through all the years I had known Jared. I’d been scared something like this was going to happen for a long time. Jared’s struggled with depression went all the way back to high school.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Nothing unusual happened. It’s about what he’s thinking and feeling, but that’s something he should tell you.”

I got off my bed and went to the closet while Jensen talked. My suitcase was on the shelf where I’d put it when I got home from my last trip to Vancouver. “Where is he now?” 

“He’s sleeping. It was a long day.” Jensen paused, and I could tell he was weighing something in his mind. “The producers wanted to shut down production, but Jared wouldn’t. We’re going back to work tomorrow.”

I dropped my suitcase on my bed with a thud and zipped it open. “Jensen, please keep an eye on him. I’m catching the first plane I can tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early October, and the air was filled with a crisp Canadian chill. Jensen had arranged to have a car and driver pick me up at the airport and bring me back to the set. I’d only been there once, but it still seemed familiar to me, probably because I’d pictured it so many times. It was the way I stayed connected to Jared over the months I was falling in love with him from thousands of miles away.

I walked up the steps of the very trailer I’d imagined so many times and opened the door. The inside was neat, but not perfect. That was a good sign; Jared was at least trying. Keeping things tidy was a challenge for him because he had the type of personality that just exploded around you in a sunburst and often he was so wrapped up in that energy that the details of his surroundings didn’t even register with him.

There were throw pillows scattered over the couch. I’d gotten them for him after that first visit because I thought his work space needed a homey touch. I wanted him to be comfortable here. I made my way to the sofa, sat down, and picked up a navy pillow. I hugged it to my chest and remembered the first time Jared brought me here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Year Ago

The smile had barely left Jared’s face since we’d gotten to the lot. He enjoyed being here, and everyone clearly loved him. The hair stylist had winked at me as she settled him in the chair and handed him a pack of gummy worms. “It’s the only thing that keeps him still.” Jared had pulled one of the sugar covered candies from the pack and held it out to me. I’d taken it from him and took a bite. The sugar had quickly covered my tongue, and  the sound of Jared’s laughter caused a smile to bloom on my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present

That seemed like a long time ago at the moment. The rattle of the door pulled me out of my reverie, and I hastily put the pillow back into its place. Jared sighed as he walked through the door, then he saw me. “Y/N.” He scrunched up his face, and the spot at the bridge of his nose wrinkled. “What are you doing here?” He was immersed in the look of Sam Winchester from head to toe, complete with all the layers, but he was still every bit my Jared. My Jared, full of sunshine and the darkness that tore at him.

I chose my words carefully. “I thought you might like to have me here, and...I wanted to be with you. Jared took off Sam’s jacket and dropped it on the counter. We were going to talk about it eventually, so I might as well say it. “Jensen called me.”

Jared had unbuttoned his cuff and was rolling up the sleeve. He stopped when he got to his elbow and hesitated before moving on to the other side. “He did?” Jared lifted his eyes to glance at me, his hand was on his sleeve motionless. “What did he say?”

I didn’t want to make Jared uncomfortable, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. The love I felt for him had guided my every move these past few months. I was actively engaged in trying to make myself a better person for him. He inspired me like that, and he didn’t have any idea.

“He told me you had a hard day, but he didn’t give me any details.” Jared didn’t answer, and I stayed quiet too. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the other end, then he leaned back and stretched his arm out across the back. He wasn’t making eye contact, but he shrugged and started to talk.

“I don’t know what happened. Shooting was going great. We were taking a scheduled break, and I came back here. I planned to unwind for a few minutes, listen to some music, but when I got here something just kind of came over me.” Jared lifted his arm and ran his hand through his hair. “I just started thinking I don’t belong here.” I saw him swallow, and I wanted to reach out to him, but I knew it was important to let him talk. “Look at this.” His head turned, scanning the trailer. “I’m a lead on a TV show. I’m not that good. There are so many actors better than me. There are people who hate me because of what I have, and there are people who want to be my friend because of it, because of what they think I can do for them.”

Jared tipped his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “There’s just so much pressure. What if I can’t keep this up. I’m cracking, Y/N.” He turned his head to look at me without lifting it. “I sat here on this couch, and I couldn’t move. I was scared if I went out there, everyone would know. They’d know I’m fake, that I’m not really what they think I am at all, and I can’t do this.”

Jared abruptly lifted his head and stood. His back was to me as he continued. “How’d I get here? I got lucky. That’s all. I’ve always been too skinny. My hair just does whatever it feels like. I have too many moles that have to be airbrushed and covered with makeup. I can’t cry when the script says to do it. It always looks forced, and then after I can’t stop crying because I couldn’t cry.”

He turned, ran his hand through his hair again and then down over his face. “I want to be good at this. I want to be an actor, but there’s so much of this that isn’t acting. Image. I don’t want to hear that word anymore. I’ve got all these people telling me who to be and what to say in interviews. They tell me how to dress.”

Jared took a deep breath. “There’s so much pressure. Kripke told Jensen and me at the very beginning that this whole thing is riding on us. If it fails, it’ll be because of me, Y/N. What would PR do if this got out? How would that look? I had a breakdown on set. I couldn’t take it, Y/N.”

It was time to say something. “Jared, come sit with me.” This time when he sat down, it was beside me. I took his hand in mine, so big, so strong but soft. “Jared, you have a very special gift. Acting is part of it, but it’s not the most important part. You know how to connect to people.” It was true. That was what had drawn me to him in high school. Jared circulated outside cliques; he actually saw people.

I scooted closer to him. “The world doesn’t always appreciate that. It wants to put us all in a shiny box, and you resist that.” I slipped my free hand into his hair and combed my fingers through the soft locks that he thought were so problematic. “You keep hold of what’s real about you, no matter how many cameras and lights they put in your face. Your heart is kind; that’s why I love you.” 

Tears formed in his eyes, and they threatened to fall. “I don’t deserve any of this, Y/N. I’m not worth it. I’m not who they think I am.”

I pulled my hand from his hair and let it rest on his cheek. “It doesn’t matter who they think you are. It matters what you know, and you’ll figure it out.”

A single tear slipped down Jared’s cheek, and he nodded silently. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held on. “I love you, Jared.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back. “You don’t have to be anything for anybody. Just you.”

After a few minutes, he pulled back and began to try to compose himself. “Jared, you don’t have to put on a face for me. I want you just the way you are.”

I fed him, using the ingredients in the fridge to make a sandwich. When Jared got like this, he tended to stop eating. It wasn’t time just yet to talk about finding him a therapist, but we would have that conversation before I left Vancouver. Right now, the focus was to take care of him by keeping him hydrated, nourished, and feeling safe, feeling loved. With this last in mind, I asked him. “Do you want to lie down with me?”

He bit his lip, and it would have been cute if my heart didn’t hurt for him. “Yeah. I’d like that.” I led him to the bed at the back of the trailer. Jared unbuttoned his top shirt and took it off, followed by toeing off his shoes. He took off everything else, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxer briefs. I made my way to the little closet in the corner and found one of his shirts I could wear, then went back to the bed where I found Jared under the covers.

I climbed in next to him, and he pulled me close. There was no sex; this was more basic, more intimate. Jared eased his hand beneath his shirt where he could feel the warmth of my skin. We stayed wrapped in each other like that, and I gave him the comfort he needed until he fell asleep. I would make sure he got the rest he needed too, and when he woke up; I would still be there to love and support him. 

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @theychosefamily @winchesterxfamilybusiness @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @wingledsam @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @fantasy-shadows @team-free-will-you-idjiot @waywardnerd67 @neii3n @fullmooner @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ @songbird400

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

FFxivWrite2019

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge SEPTEMBER 1st - 30th, 2019

Welcome to YEAR 3 of our annual FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge, folks!

In 2017 we saw 2,451 written pieces ranging from three-lined haikus to multi-paged stories. 2018 ramped up even more with 3,641 written pieces! 

We are a merry band of prolific writers, FFxiv RP community, and I couldn't be prouder of our willingness to challenge ourselves creatively, using our RP craft as inspiration. Let’s see how we do in 2019!

Here’s the gist:

Runs from September 1st - 30th, 2019. During that timeframe:

Visit @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ once a day at 12:00pm (noon) PST for the prompt of the day. All prompts will be one word or brief phrase that you can interpret however you please.

You have 24 hours to write something for that prompt.

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/EJV82Wh85BZpwaFa9  – Tumblr has been hiding @ mentions from my dash which means that I’m missing so many of your entries. :( Submitting a link to your post via this Form will ensure that everyone’s posts are seen and tracked! Please help me, haha. Tag @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ in your post, and use the hashtag #FFxivWrite2019.

There are no length or skill requirements (short & sweet is fine!).

There will be no 24-hour deadlines for the first week, September 1st - 7th.

Makeup/extra credit days every Sunday.

Every entry posted within its 24-hour deadline will count toward a participation prize raffle at the end.

You can join any time - late entries are welcome! They simply won’t count toward participation prizes - unless submitted on a makeup day.

If you’re an artist and you would like to volunteer to do a simple black & white illustration as a participation prize at the end of this challenge, please let me know!

RULES & MORE INFO below the cut~

What’s the purpose of this writing challenge?

First and foremost, the purpose of this challenge is to break the power of perfectionism over your personal creative process. Some folks frown on my 24-hour submission deadline but I think that it’s a critical part in getting people to just go ahead and submit something, even if it’s not perfect, and in doing so perfectionism begins to lose its power day by day.

If you’re someone who rarely creates because the fear of it not being perfect keeps you from starting or finishing, then this challenge is designed for YOU!

Of course, connecting FFxiv writers, of all skill and experience levels, and sharing our work is also a perk!

Rules:

You cannot submit things that you’ve already written – Even if the topic is the same. All entries must be new and freshly written for this challenge!

No rough drafts and no redos – Relax! Use this as a low-pressure opportunity to loosen up and de-rust your writing chops. No one will be judging your work for quality or length. The purpose is to get into the habit of writing daily. Don’t overthink it, and don’t put too much pressure on yourself! It’s all for fun!

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/EJV82Wh85BZpwaFa9  – Tumblr has been hiding @ mentions from my dash which means that I’m missing so many of your entries. :( Submitting a link to your post via this Form will ensure that everyone’s posts are seen and tracked! Please help me, haha. Tag @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast in all of your entries and use the #FFxivWrite2019 hashtag – Thanks to Tumblr shadowbans, using a hashtag alone is no longer a great way for me to track prompt entries. :( So! Tag me, please, so that I don’t miss your posts. You’ll know that I’ve tracked your post when you see a like from me (NOTE: sometimes it takes 48 hours for me to catch up to your latest posts). 

Select which Prompt # your submitted link is for in the Google Form  – There’s no longer a need to include the Prompt # in the title of the post unless you want to for your own tracking purposes. Include the prompt number in the TITLE of your post – Example: “Prompt #10: Your clever post name.” Entries without the prompt number included in the post title won’t be counted toward prizes.

You have until prompt #7 to back write for participation prizes – That means that if you discover the writing challenge a few days, or even a week after it’s started, you can still jump in and back write as many of the first 7 prompts as you want and they’ll count as entries toward the participation prize! After day 8, however, no back writing will be counted towards the prize - unless it’s submitted on a makeup day. That being said, it is totally possible for someone with only 1 participation entry for the duration of the contest to be drawn as the participation prize winner so don’t give up due to lack of participation overall!

Absolutely no griefing, harassing, or trolling other writers – This will earn you an automatic disqualification from the event.

Tag NSFW content with #NSFW and put it below a cut – Similarly, if your entry contains graphic or violent content that may be triggering to others, please include a brief trigger warning at the top of your post. Be considerate of your readers!

Make-up Days / Extra Credit Days:

EVERY SUNDAY will be a makeup/extra credit day. No prompt will be provided on these days. Instead, you’re welcome to back write and submit as many entries for previous prompts as you’d like! You can also make up your own prompt to write to for the day and submit that as extra credit.

Completing all prompts + extra credit will put you at 30 entries total toward the participation prize raffle.

Participation Prizes:

In early October, I will total up the number of all entries made within their 24-hour deadline, or on makeup days/extra credit, and draw winning numbers for a black & white portrait of their character drawn by one of our volunteer artists.

The number of available prizes depends on how many artists volunteer.

While we do have prizes, remember that getting a prize is not the ultimate purpose of this challenge. It’s a chance for you to beat the snot out of perfectionism in your creative process by just DOING IT! :D

As always, send me an ask or a message with questions. 

Let’s do this, FFxiv community!

(( FFxiv2019 banner art by @dantinmikannes ))

[glitterberrysims]

Meet the Creator!

Hi guys, so I thought I would formally introduce myself to everyone who follows and let you get to know me as a creator and simblr blogger (I run @thealbionroyals and @montaseulroyalsims) I have asked a few friends for questions so here goes!

My Simself ^^

Q. What’s your name and where are you from?

So I’m called Shannon Jade, and I often try to go as Shannon Jade for any official documentation but many people just revert to calling me Shannon. I mostly do this because I’ve been in a situation where three people I worked with were called Shannon. I’m from Yorkshire, but I did live in London for over a year before that.

Q. What do you do?

At the moment, unfortunately I got made redundant from my position. I have worked in travel for the majority of my life, and 2020 has brought a lot of hardships to that industry. Before my previous job I used to work as a Cabin Crew member for a major airline and absolutely loved it. It is probably the only job I would go back to, but once my health allows it. My licence to fly last 5 years after I stop flying, so I’ve got 3 more years left!

Q. When did you start making CC?

I remember starting CC quite a while back, but not good cc. I was more or less messing around with blender and hairstyles at one point and I did make a few hairs that worked, but I’ve since forgotten how to do all that. Recently I’ve been doing poses, as it’s a good way for me to get familiar with blender and then I started making dresses and clothes- however I don’t like half of these now. I still need to get better at doing weights on dresses, so they actually work good in game. Now, I’m enjoying my creative journey making jewellery. It’s honestly so relaxing, especially when it works in game.

Keep Reading to read more ( I didn’t want to clog up your feed!)

I love @sentate​  1949 HAUTE COUTURE collection!

Q. What got you into the sims world?

I honestly think it was my mum, she used to play sims one when I was little. So naturally I played it too. I played Sims One for years before Origin released the entire collection of Sims 2 for free. So I got that and found is so much easier! I remember finding out that sims could age and I was like ‘WOW Sims One could never’. But I probably fell head over heels with Sims 3. I had more time playing that as when I got sims 2, Sims 3 had just been announced. I do miss Sims 3 so much! It had so much to offer.

Q. If you have to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?

That’s actually quite hard for me, I think I would say ‘Loving, Sleepy, Dedicated’ I think. My boyfriend agreed with me, so there’s that!

Q. What is your favourite type of CC to create?

I honestly love doing rings more than anything. They’re so easy to make and they are just so classy too! But I like to make CC that matches, so currently I’m working on a Sapphire collection that has earrings, necklaces and a ring. I also like creating outfits cc, but I rarely do that now since I’m so in love with accessory making.

I’m honestly so in love with my Fringe Earrings, they’ll be coming out soon!! ^^

Q. When not playing Sims, what would you be doing?

At the moment I am doing course work for a Teaching Assistant course. But once that’s over, in my spare time I would be probably be playing games or creating. I also like to draw too, I’m a digital artist and I have drawn quite a few things in my time doing that. I also write out stories, so I have a google doc sheet that is full of different ideas for stories that I want to write if I ever get the time to.

Q. What games do you play?

Okay, so this changes depending on the mood I am in. I obviously play The Sims Franchise. But outside of that, I play a game called 7 Days to Die (Probably the only game I have that is about zombies.. I don’t usually play fps too). Other than that I play Pokemon with my boyfriend and Animal Crossing. Let me see what my most hours are on in my steam library... that is Planet Zoo! Another game that I absolutely love to go into sandbox mode and create a zoo, I’m not that good at it though! 

Q. What inspires you to create CC? 

Anything can inspire me. I could be watching tv and see a piece of jewellery like and be like ‘yep. I’m going to create that!’. At the moment I am very much inspired by Princess Diana, her fashion was iconic and I wish to replicate that in my custom content! 

I also adore @casteru​  SQUARE NECK DRESS

Q. What’s the most difficult part of CC making?

So what I find most difficult depends on the type of cc. For jewellery I find getting them to be low poly the most difficult thing, then after that is is uv mapping- because earrings and rings have such a small uv map area! I also find necklaces really hard to create. For dresses and clothes I find actually find the weights the most difficult and I still don’t 100% understand them. Then for poses, making the poses is the most difficult thing! But I do enjoy a challenge. 

Q. What made you start a royal simblr? 

So I originally had a simblr when I was a flight attendant. I left that job back in 2018 so I probably started that in the October or November of 2018. It was a royal simblr but there was hardly anything for them cc wise, there was only a few tiaras but nothing like what we have today. What inspired me was basically me having a royal family save already. When I came back to it in 2019, I completely started afresh. I think then there was a few more royal simblrs, and they kind of got me back into it. I think I have grown so much since the original account, as I used a lot of alpha hairs and it just doesn’t match my playstyle today! 

I’m going to do a part 2 with more personal questions! Link here! 

[darlinrogue]

matthew found himself getting anxious at every all elite pay-per-view. but something about this specific revolution—— this specific main event had him more worried than usual ‘exploding barbed-wire death match’… it had problems written all over it. biting nail after nail, cuticle after cuticle. “since pac’s going after the tag titles, adam’s next in line for kenny” he heard tony khan say from the headset in guerilla. matt’s heart stopped, right then and there. he had to find adam.

Matt

A few hours before the show Adam had scoped out his vantage point. A seat in the back on the ground floor at Daily’s Place. High-up, but not too far away. Even better it was an empty section. After his match with Hardy, Adam changed into street clothes, crept-out from backstage, and took his seat. While the street fight with Darby and Sting played on the big screen, the ring crew set-up for the so called, “Exploding Barbed Wire Death Match.” The crew wore thick leather gloves. They maneuvered pieces of hardware, metal, and explosives to the floor. Bryce looked like the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. It was, without a doubt, the most elaborate, inane match idea Adam had ever seen. He never delved into that Death match shit. An occasional no DQ with chairs and table settled Adam’s need for violence, but this was next level. 

And it was the exact kinda bullshit that Kenny would come up with. 

The construction of a wrestling ring had always fascinated Adam. In his teenage years he shadowed production crews to shows. From them he learned how to square a ring by measuring the diagonal, how to lay down the boards, roll out the pads, and lash down the mats. Then, tightening the ropes and tying in the turnbuckles. For the cheaper productions, duct tape repaired holes torn in the apron. All the little things he didn’t have to do anymore now that he was a ‘star.’ Part of Adam missed the days on the indies when he’d show-up a day early for set-up and leave late for tear down. Get to watch a show for free that way. Somehow, watching the AEW ring crew bind explosive barbed wire around the ropes didn’t make Adam feel very nostalgic, though. Instead something cold settled in the bottom of his stomach. 

Adam had brought a beer out with him and he brought the bottle to his lips. He watched the pyro tech guys rig-up the explosives with lines of electric wire. The ring crew were filtering out. The fight on the screen was winding down. Adam glanced over though as someone approached on his right. Wedging himself between the seats and coming down the row was Matt Jackson. He’d changed back into a gray, AEW jacket, his hair twisted into a quick and dirty bun. All he had for Adam was a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and his throat bobbed, not meeting Adam’s gaze. Instead he focused on the dust laden concrete beneath his feet. Adam shifted in his seat, coming forward, elbows pressed into the arm rest. Matt chewed on his lip and then gestured at Adam’s hand. 

“You okay?” He asked, thinly. “Matt worked you over good.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Adam said. “Just sore.”

He looked down at his hand. An athletic trainer had wrapped it in bandages and popped him a couple ibuprofen. There was nothing broken, just some bruising and swelling. Adam’d have to get an X-ray sooner rather than later, though. After the match high ran down though it hurt like a mother. Matt and Adam stared at each other for a second, before Adam tilted his head to the side. An indication and invitation for Matt to sit. Matt sunk into the chair beside Adam, hands rubbing over his knees. His fingers pattered over his thighs and he shifted, exuding nervous energy. When he settled back into the chair it was like he was sitting back into the barbed wire in the ring.

“Congratulations, on beating the carny though,” Matt offered with a small laugh. “You guys had a good match. What are you going to do with the money?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, well I was thinking,” Adam began, he put his beer on the floor by his feet and leaned back. “I need a new lawnmower and there’s enough to pay off the mortgage— I don’t need much else so like, I told them to just, just to give the rest to some cause. Someone mentioned the public schools in Jacksonville? I liked that, so that’s kinda what we went with.”

“Seriously?” Matt breathed. “That’s amazing, Adam.”

“Fuck, I don’t want that money anyway, makes me feel dirty,” Adam admitted. He sucked on his cheek. “Chris and MJF didn’t beat you up too much did they? Ya’ll pulled it out, but it was kinda brutal to watch.”

“Oh, so you watched our match?” Matt noted. They looked at each other and something warm sparked in Adam’s chest. “Takes more than a baseball bat to keep me down. Besides that’s nothing compared to— to all this.”

Matt’s voice rasped as he flicked his finger towards the completed ring. Adam followed his gaze and got what he meant. It wasn’t the barbed wire or the explosives. It was the anticipation of seeing Kenny in the middle of that ring. Kenny, bloodied and burned and hurting, with his life on the line. There was a long, long list of shit that could go wrong. And Adam and Matt shared in common a worry wort gene. It was in their nature to look at a set-up like that, then let their minds run to all the terrifying possibilities. It was the inner instinct of ‘older brother’ in them. The shit going on Matt’s mind had already crossed Adam’s a half-dozen times. 

Injury, pain, and even death, were the risks of their sport, everyone who stepped in the ring had comes to terms with their mortality.  It wasn’t often though that Adam sat down for a match and was fully level with the idea that one of his oldest friends may actually die. It was a ‘holy shit’ moment, this was how far they’d come. Well over a year ago Adam remembered the way Kenny’s voice cracked over the phone when he talked about Mox. The desperate, twisted edge in his tone, jagged as broken glass. It was obsession rolled with a fragile mental health teetering over the abyss of fear, anxiety, and depression. All Adam had done was stand back and watch as Kenny was crowded to the cliff. Then, Adam witnessed the merciless hand shove Kenny over. And now, at the bottom, body and mind broken over the rocks, Kenny challenged Mox to an Exploding Barbed Wire Death Match. The entire Elite had hit rockbottom in the past six months at least once but none of them had involved explosives. 

“Kenny’s gone off the fucking deep end, man” Adam observed, like he was commenting on the weather. He picked-up his beer from the floor and took a sip. “This is batshit. You let him do this?”

“It’s not like he asked us?!” Matt protested, his hands fluttered around him. “TK approved it and you know, it’s his show. Besides, it’s not exactly like Kenny is talking to us right now.” 

Adam shifted in his seat. He and Kenny hadn’t been on speaking terms since October. A long run of almost six months as they awkwardly avoided each other in the hallways. Of course, Adam had his handful of ignored, attempted phone calls and double texts from back when the tag-team broke-up. He’d kept abreast of the Elite’s crazy drama and then felt quietly grateful he wasn’t apart of it. Forsaken doors, Barbed Wire Death Matches; literally everything to do with Don Callis, Impact, and the Good Brothers— no thanks. Adam got why he was out of the loop, though. Kenny getting sick of his shit and kicking him out of his life was inevitable as it was deserved— But, Kenny wasn’t talking to the Bucks either? That was a red flag. Shit, Adam shouldn’t be worried about Kenny, grown ass man that he was but—Adam took another sip from his beer and returned it to its spot by his feet. Yeah, he was kinda worried about Kenny.

“Why are you even out here?” Matt asked, an edge of accusation in his voice. 

“Shit, I dunno, figured if my old tag-partner was gonna get blown-up I should at least be here to witness it?” Adam speculated, with a shrug. The buzzing crowd indicated the end of the Street Fight that Adam had been ignoring. Whispers of anticipation floated through the arena. “Maybe— I just got some shit on my mind. Trying to figure out what comes next.” 

“You’re in the rankings,” Matt blurted-out. Adam glanced at Matt and met his eyes. His face was stricken in the stark lights and his throat bobbed. Music hit, Mox’s theme, moments before Adam could even think up an answer. 

Mox wasn’t a bullet point on Adam’s list of relations. He was just a guy he occasionally saw backstage or in production meetings. They’d been in a ring once before. Adam kinda saw him as this hardened badass with a devil may care attitude. A weird, enigmatic guy with a prickly attitude and a hardened reputation. The flash of a silver flask, drawn from Mox’s inner jacket pocket, spoke to Adam though in a way few else in the arena would get. He understood the motivation behind the deep drink Mox indulged. If a guy like Jon Moxley needed alcohol to steady his nerves, then shit, it was really that bad. Kenny’s entrance then, was a nail in the coffin. He dressed subdued, in jeans and a shirt instead of elaborate gear. No bullshit spiel from Justin Roberts, just his music, and the belt. Adam worked his jaw and took some solace from his own beverage. Besides him, Matt shifted and squirmed, his thumb at his mouth gnawing on his already bitten down nail.

Before Ring of Honor shipped him off to Japan, Adam was never into Japanese wrestling. His library of matches included the DVR recordings of WWF matches, the local shit you could get on the TV, and eventually, the various indie shows across the South-East he attended. It was all catch wrestling, some technical shit, and whatever the Hardys were doing. Death matches, likewise, were a joke in the schools and shows he attended. “How many commas?” Was the refrain for what it’d take to get an average wrestler to do something as stupid as involve barbed wire in a match. Therefore, a Japanese, Exploding, Barbed Wire, Death Match, was completely out of Adam’s wheel house. He had no idea what to expect. What he got when the bell rang was totally outside of the realm of his imagination. 

It was the little shit: Kenny was dead serious, Mox made the sign of the cross, and the methodical, slow pace they set.  It was all physical strength as they jostled, tied-up with each other, all too aware of the limitations of the ring. After a year as his tag-partner, Adam was familiar with Kenny’s style. His explosive speed, how he worked the ropes, and his overwhelming energy. This was a different Kenny, almost uncomfortable in the confines of his cage. Close calls, pushing, prodding, biting each other, trying to force the other into barbed wire they treated with the respect it deserved it. Mox beat Kenny with every instrument available and Adam knew the way Kenny writhed was genuine. When Kenny sent Mox into the far ropes and a flash of fire sent billows of smoke into the arena, Matt gripped Adam’s hand like it was an instinctive reflex. He squeezed, hard, pressing his fingers around Adam’s palm. Pain shot-up Adam’s arm like a bolt of lightning. Adam hissed and reached over to pry Matt off his injured hand. 

“Jesus, Matt,” Adam hissed. 

Matt murmured apologies and yet his grip just switched to Adam’s wrist instead, which wasn’t much better because Adam’s whole arm was sore. Since apparently Matt needed to cling to something, Adam hooked his whole right arm around Matt’s shoulders. Then reached his left hand over to grip Matt’s hand. It was awkward and the armrest dug into Adam’s ribs but Matt rested his head in the crook of Adam’s shoulder, so it worked. Their fingers interlaced and Adam could only imagine how fucking goofy they looked. If the cameras happened to pick them up in the crowd they would never live it down. At least, Kenny had his footing in the match, he was in control, working over Mox, looking for that pin— Adam wasn’t sure if he was rooting for Kenny or not. Or, if he just kinda wanted this to be over because it was evidently mentally ripping Matt to shreds. 

Wanted this to be over, the belt out of Kenny’s hands, and somewhere else, where it couldn’t be between them anymore. 

Blood and smoke, broken hardware, torn skin. Kenny in the ropes, blinded by the dust, begging for water for his burned eyes. Matt’s breath, high in his throat, turning his face into Adam’s shoulder. And Adam just watched. He watched and forgot about the beer warming to room temperature by his side. A pressure built in his jaw, and yet, he couldn’t look away. No clear thoughts surfaced, nothing solid, or real. Just ideas, images, tangled together with the scene before him like the barbed wire wrapped around Mox’s arm. He didn’t allow himself to settle. Didn’t allow himself to latch onto anything, just let it all drift, staying in the moment of the violence, pain, and brutality of two men literally trying to kill each other. The sight of Kenny’s blood, red, crimson, staining his white shirt, and marring his pale skin burned Adam’s vision.

He thought back to Full Gear. The way he could tell Kenny was in his head. Always a half-step ahead. And that whole match Adam was working his ass off just to keep-up. Trying to wiggle his way into opening, taking advantage of every opportunity like a life line. He’d watched that match back a hundred times and he could every single one of his mistakes. He found a new error to fixate on each time he hit the replay button. The truth was that physically, Kenny had no significant advantage over Adam. In fact, Adam knew he had all the benefits of superior strength, better cardio, and youth. In skill, there was nothing dividing them— After that tag-team run, Adam knew he could hang with Omega. What kept Adam back, what left him behind, in the shadow of Kenny was himself. His own tangled thoughts and anxieties, burning a hole in his heart. He had stared-up the lights, like a crashed angel, and kinda accepted that final pin.

Like, he just gave-up, after bearing the burden of a year from hell. Let it all roll off his shoulders. Atlas shrugged, and the world shattered. And in the midst of broken glass, he had rebuilt. With no end goal in mind. Just, kinda up, kinda forward, one step at a time, gazed fixated on his toes so he didn’t slip in his own blood, and not ahead, and now he was looking at the ring. Accepting the smoke and blood and tears and sweat, the desperate men swinging punch-drunk as the ten minute warning sounded. It was an observation, he could note it, and let the moment past. Adam was in the rankings, number three last Tuesday, maybe higher next Tuesday. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t have to mean anything. 

Didn’t have to do anything but just sit here and hold Matt. 

When the Good Brothers rushed out to the ring Matt sighed and laughed, but it was high-pitched, shaking his head. Adam watched Mox go through the chair in a One Winged Angel but all Matt was muttering was that he ‘couldn’t take this anymore.’ He didn’t want to see the ending, but he did hear the three count, and Adam admitted that his masochist desire had puttered out. So, he pushed Matt to his feet and they slid through the rows to escape the arena. Outside, fresh air, cool and tinged with the taste of the metallic city, brushed against Adam’s heated face.  Matt walked to the curb outside Daily’s place and collapsed. He sat there, breathing hard and fast, head between his knees, some, strangled, broken noise erupting from his throat. Adam shoved his hands in his jean pockets and sat down next to him. A lot of noises erupted from the arena behind them but the sounds muddled with the traffic, sirens, people, nothing distinct.

“Hey,” Adam whispered, reaching for Matt’s shoulder. He placed his hand in the crook of Matt’s neck and gathered him closer to his side. Matt was still hyperventilating and so Adam ordered firmly, but not unkindly, “dude, slow down. Take a deep breath. It’s okay, it’s over.”

Matt’s entire body trembled and Adam had half a mind to break six months of radio silence by calling Nick to tell him to come get his brother. Instead, Matt collapsed against Adam, burying his face in his chest as for the first time in probably an hour, he breathed. Every tensed muscle unraveled beneath Adam’s hand as all the fight left Matt. Tears tracked trails of dust down Matt’s cheeks and Adam hummed, low in his throat. It was something content, a pleased purr. He always liked feeling useful, needed, relied upon, and to have Matt physically leaning on him like this— felt good. It felt right. He’d been dropping the Bucks and Kenny, fumbling like an idiot, for a while now. Maybe now, when he felt a little stronger, a little more firm, he could hold them right. 

Maybe— 

Maybe, and the thought trailed off without conclusion. 

“I hate this, why can’t it just be over,” Matt gasped into Adam’s shirt. “Why can’t we— why can’t we just, just be friends again?! We should never have left Japan. This shit wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t made this damn company. AEW was supposed to be fun, and all it did was just—just tear us apart.”

Against Adam’s thigh, Matt fisted his hand, nails biting into his palm. Adam placed his chin on top of Matt’s head. He didn’t respond to his question because he didn’t have an answer. No response that was adequate. Just a recap of all their broken dreams and failures. Matt knew the story. He didn’t need Adam to try to fix this. Adam couldn’t fix this but he could be here. He could do that. 

“I want things back to how they were,” Matt admitted, and his voice was softer, but hitched with a sob. 

“I don’t,” Adam said. 

Matt stiffened under Adam’s arm. And Adam had a feeling the thoughts that came to his mind weren’t the most gentle thing to say to Matt as he spiraled off a panic attack— but they were maybe the things Matt needed to hear. 

“I hated being in the EVP room,” Adam continued, and his voice shook. “I hated living in your shadows. I hated watching you guys go out with Kenny and be in his corner, while I always had my matches alone. I hated— I hated being the weak link. I hated never feeling like I belonged. Like, I never deserved to be your friend.”

“Hangman—” Matt pulled back to look at Adam, his eyes wet with tears. 

“No, no, Matt listen,” Adam insisted. He hooked his hand around the back of Matt’s neck. “This shit, would’ve happened in Japan, or NXT, or Ring of Honor, no matter where we went. Because wherever you go, there you are, and we carried our baggage here.”

“I just had no idea we made you so miserable,” Matt confessed. “That we made you—”

“Dude, I made myself miserable,” Adam laughed, interrupting him. “All up in my head and shit, and I’m done with that. I’m done with the bullshit and the drama. Maybe, I’m not the best, but I just wanna—I wanna focus on, I don’t know, having fun? Doing what I can. Forget about the stupid title.”

“So, you’re not going to challenge Kenny?” Matt asked. He reached for Adam’s face, pressed his palm to Adam’s cheek. Adam shivered under his touch, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted. He ducked his head but Matt smoothed his thumb over Adam’s cheekbone and forced him to look up again. Forced him to meet Matt’s dark eyes, and Adam had no choice but to think, Holy shit, I love him. So, he whispered and confided, “I don’t know if I can.”

“I think you can,” Matt said. He inched closer so they were thigh-to-thigh, he tilted Adam’s face down to knock their foreheads together. Adam could hear the smile on his lips. “Someone has to knock some sense into Kenny. I don’t want to see my best friends fight but—”

“Matt,” Adam sighed. His hand reached across to Matt’s opposite hip. 

“What?” Matt asked. Adam nuzzled his nose into his cheek. “Adam?”

“Nothing,” Adam smiled. 

And he couldn’t help but to wonder why Matt believed in him when no one else did. What he saw that he recognized as potential. Matt’s patience as Adam strayed and wandered— that the frustration, read more as worry now than anger. And it was Adam that Matt sought out tonight. And Matt wasn’t shoving him away as he leaned in, the ghost of his breath on Matt’s bottom lip. Then, Matt’s phone rang and he was cussing, digging into his pockets. He checked the collar ID, noted it was Nick and murmured bashful excuses to Adam before answering. Adam leaned back on his hands, scratching his boot heels against the pavement. 

“Hey, man,” Matt intoned, a hand running through his hair. HIs voice was still raw and he swallowed hard, putting on a mask of cool, stoicism for his little brother. “What’s up?”

Adam heard the low rumble of Nick’s voice on the other side. Chewing out Matt for vanishing during production. TK needed them ASAP, and Matt was nodding, promising he’d show-up soon. He just needed some time to get some fresh air. 

“Is everyone okay?” Matt asked, and Adam leaned forward to hear the response.

“Yeah, everyone’s okay, Kenny, Mox, and fucking, Eddie? He ran out there right before the bomb went off, the idiot,” Nick grumbled. “But it was a fucking dud. It didn’t go off at all— the fans actually boo’ed, I can’t tell if TK is furious or relieved. I mean, Kenny made it so I don’t know what we expected—”

Adam choked on a laugh, leaning his elbows on his knees. His entire shoulders shook as cackles broke out of his chest and he covered his mouth to hide the noise. Adam barely registered Nick asking Matt who he was with before Matt hung-up the phone. Matt shook his head and then he was laughing too, breaking the tide of all the bundled, nervous fear that had held them. Adam knew in his head there was way more shit to work out between them. That they weren’t out of the woods yet and his heart was too tender, too fragile, to take another break but— it felt better. 

In some ways, it almost felt good, and ‘almost good’ is a state Adam hadn’t been in for a long time. 

“You should uh, go do your job,” Adam suggested. 

Matt pushed to his feet and Adam stood too. He felt that awkwardness, the unacknowledged weirdness of almost making out with your not-best-friend, or the fact that they’re supposed to hate each other right now. All the crap that was still between them, all the land mines of conversations not yet triggered. Maybe, they were untangling the barbed wire. Closing the distance inch-by-inch, and it was magnetic, almost inevitable— but Adam wasn’t sure if he was ready to stand beside Matt. Maybe because he was afraid of being hurt again. Maybe because he was dead terrified of the air in the EVP room when he was swallowing all his words. Maybe, because he had always walked behind, and never beside.

He asked Matt, last year, for a little more time, and apparently, he still needed a little more yet.

“Yeah, uh, talk to you later, I guess,” Matt managed. When he breathed there was a shutter, the residuals of his panic attack. Adam figured if he was with his brother, he’d be fine. Nick would take care of him. Adam worried about a lot things but he never worried about the Bucks because they always had each other. 

“Yeah,” Adam nodded. “See ya.”

Matt turned back to the arena first. Adam stood there, watching him walking away and refusing to let his thoughts roll over it. 

It is what it is.