#( * & replies. )

[torchbearing]

kind of late, but 7 for the comic ask game?

comic ask game! 1 to 100 from my league of comic geeks list. accepting!

oh john. john stewart, the man you are.

i will be weird about it and say i love mosaic / early gl1990 for him. especially for this particular sequence, from gl1990 issue 14:

i can't say i enjoy what modern john has become and the whole weird military thing they did to him, but i loved this john in specific.

[yingren]

@xianzhou-craftsman ( cont. )

“ uh, it’s not that i want it to be fragile but it will happen whether i want it or not. ” what a pain, having to explain this is harder than he thought it would be. at least the answer is finally in front of him. an alloy of metals? maybe. “ i want to make a bookmark. ” something oh so simple and yet a hassle when the muscle memory is not there to his aid. “ it has to be thin, really thin, and i do not want it to be made out of anything too soft. glass i fear would be too thick for something like that & it would most likely shatter if one is careless enough to drop it. ” a pause, he hums. “ it’s a gift so i want to make it myself. it is important... i think? ”

[d4ggered]

Me thinking my writing is good:

me thinking otherwise seconds later....

[ladyintree]

@warpainte  [...] everything was supposed to go back to ‘normal’ now.     she won the election against the odds,  the blackmailer was dead and no longer threatening to dig up their past,    mikayla was out of town and no longer taunting tai with their a history that no longer felt like history,    and tai assumed with all the stresses put to rest,   that she was finally done sleepwalking again,   and she could brush it all off as a fluke.    it was just the stress of the election,  the blackmail,   the blast from the past,   nothing more,   nothing real to worry herself with.   the rest was supposed to be simple   —    there was no reason for her family not to return to her now,   so that tai could finally repair that piece of her life as if it were that simple,   not taking into account that simone had her reasons for staying away — even before what exposed what tai herself was not aware of happening in their own basement.

simone’s warning forced tai to face what she had been avoiding  —   that this wasn’t just as simple as sleepwalking over temporary chaos,   it wasn’t as simple as accidentally letting their dog out,   it wasn’t as simple as a waiting it out until it was all over,  for her family to return to her as if nothing happened,   like taissa wasn’t struggling and hadn’t betrayed them.     something darker was going on here,   something taissa has told herself for 25 years now that she didn’t ever believe in —-  so why is it here,    and what does it mean?    sammy’s doll,    a picture-perfect image of her son,    along with their pet dog,   topped off with a symbol that used to make her angry,   horrify her,   and give her some strange sense of hope all at once.   in some way,   she does know what it all means:    it means that she was right to tell her family to leave,   and it means that simone was right to want to keep sammy away,   and worst of all,   it means simone is right about tai being sick.   she’s not ready to face that,   not ready to face her. 

is this what you wanted?    the words play on repeat in her head,   only from a dream,   but when she looked at simone in that hospital bed,   it’s all she can think about.   simone had done nothing but support her over the years,   but the idea of her trying to get tai help made her feel trapped,   completely out of control of her own life,   and tai refused to listen,   only making it so much worse in the process.   she was fine before simone exposed the altar in the basement,   she was convincing herself she was thriving,   that she was finally back on track —-  but now,   ever since seeing it for herself,   she’s only spiraled more,   to the point where she’s barely standing on her own anymore,   barely conscious,   and making no commitment to wait here with her wife.

she doesn’t remember how she got here.   that should terrify her,   because it means she’s only losing more control,    but for a moment,   she’s not thinking about that.   she’s never been here before,   but she knows exactly where she is —-   standing in front of mikayla’s home,   moments away from knocking and facing her again after she’d said goodbye just a few days ago,   assuming it was forever.   it’s finally starting to hit her what she’s really doing:    she’s almost ready to admit that she needs help,   but not from the person who’s been offering it,   trying so hard to give it to her even when tai doesn’t deserve the support from her.   no,   she came here because she’s always been drawn to her,   the person who has helped her before,   even when she didn’t know how,   because she wasn’t trying to give her help in ways that tai found so debilitating.   she helped her because she understood her —-  which is something tai has never given her wife the opportunity to do,   because the way she’s presented herself since rescue has always been so calculated,   so much so that even she could convince herself that was who she really was.   being around mikayla again only reminded her that it wasn’t,   that she was always going to be the person she was out in that wilderness with her —-   so now she's here,   despite no real welcome,   despite no preparation,   despite no reason for mikayla to actually give her the time of day,   but with as much as she’s lost even after assuming her life was finally settled,   this is the only place that feels right to be.    

the person on mikayla’s doorstep is not the same woman she almost kissed nights ago.   while her confidence was already faltering that night,  it’s nothing compared to this —-   bags under her bloodshot eyes,   shoulders slumped,  hair a mess,  clothes disheveled.   the state senator elect is certainly a sight to see like this,   but one that mikayla will likely be able to understand all too well:    it’s the same sleep deprived,  panicked,  barely coherent girl she used chase through the wilderness many years ago.   tai isn’t considering what it will be like for mikayla to see her like this,   she’s not considering the fact that reaching out to her like this is entirely unfair given her refusal to do the same for all those years mikayla was in prison,   and she’s definitely not considering the fact that it could be her wife who answers the door instead.    all she’s thinking about is that she needs mikayla desousa.    it’s selfish,  inconsiderate,  but maybe brave,  too —  because as she reaches her hand up to knock on the door,   she suddenly freezes.   instead of knocking,   her hand moves back to her hair,   attempting to tame the curls before smoothing her sweater in front of her.   she clears her throat,   trying to recall the last time she brushed or teeth or changed her clothes — everything before getting off that train is a blur to her now,   and she realizes she’s entirely unprepared for this,   but it’s far too late to turn back now.   

she takes a deep breath, but her usual attempt to collect herself before a confrontation fails. she realizes now that there's nothing that can properly prepare her for this conversation, she can only hope that mikayla will understand without forcing it out of her — or worse, slamming the door in her face. she shrugs it off, because she led herself here for a reason, leaving behind the people she should have been catering to instead; it can't be for nothing. finally, she knocks on the door, the tired eyes lifting into something that's almost a hopeful smile as she waits for her.

the door opens, and her legs suddenly feel wobbly, her hand quickly reaching for the door frame just to hold herself steady. but her features contradict the rest of her exhausted body language, and she starts to smile upon seeing her, as if that's going to distract her from everything else that's wrong with her ( everything mikayla knows so intimately, even years later. ) tai makes no effort to try to explain herself, no attempt to make this any less weird than it is. all she does is give her a small nod, her voice innocently muttering a simple, ❝  hi. ❞

[plumbtales]

Hi is there really no way of downloading your old hoods? I really wanted to download them after my sims 2 pause 2 years later and they are just gone :(

Hi! I removed them as they're really cluttered so I want to redo them. All the lots are still available though :)

[redemptionmade]

@thcbcys. ❛  hey, umm ... thank you for being my friend.  ❜ - My Marj to your Kenny :D meme.

"oh, so you do like having me around," he's teasing, of course. he never doubted that she didn't appreciate his friendship for a moment.. but still, it was nice to hear. "i guess that means i’ll have to keep you around for a bit longer then." he playfully nudges her with his elbow, his gaze then softens into something a tad more genuine. "but seriously.. thanks. you're a pretty great friend yourself, you know."

[zachwilde]

@corimmy: I remember that face

It's when I looked my best, right?

[battingchaos]

@proxiism continued from here

Stelle takes a moment to inch ever more close to her, until they're side-by-side. Cheerful smile resting upon her lips. "I'd like nothing in the entire universe more~" the honesty in her voice can be felt in the air between them. " . . . If you wanted to, you could uh, hold my hand to direct me to your favorite place. I wouldn't want to get separated from you."

[inmiasma]

Tongbi can even order off the kid's menu → @paracosmiist

Nezha watched the gibbon demon return to the space within her templeー with the suggestion that he could follow if he so desired. As someone who appreciated privacy, he bowed his head and brought his hands before his chest for a daoist salute.

The doors of the old temple creaked shut behind him. His red, steadfast silk hung around his shoulders; a dormant weapon that he didn't believe he'd need for this meeting, but remained on him no matter the occasion.

Nezha's hoops became fire, then liquid gold as his boots hit the floor, and his wheels snaked around his waist sash.

"Do you regret it?" He glanced around at the state of the temple interior. Without the original owner, it had lost a substantial amount of it's former glory. Lady Yaoji's spirit, despite having long departed, lived still in fragmentsー in the walls and art that remained in spite of time's passage.

"Of course." He looked to the gibbon. "We were all young once."

A white lotus bloomed in his open palm, which shifted into a rounded jade pendant.

"If you hate it, then at least you don't have to stay. But this is your ticket in. It lasts as long as the mourning period does."

[yingren]

@roaringdr4gon ( cont. )

"it is only the aesthetics that differ between the materials i listed. the inside will be made from the same refractory mortar and firebrick to contain the heat. you won't be able to see it." he sighs, running a hand through the pale locks of hair he hasn't bothered to tie up today. that much should have been obvious he thinks, although he bites his tongue in front of the high elder. "marble would perhaps suit your tastes?"

[benbraeden]

❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . / jami c:

there is a rustle that ben starts to hear behind him, like barefoot on gravel, too light to be a threat. ben doesn't turn right away, leaning against the near rusted out shell of a pickup truck, tying off a bandage around his arm with his teeth, blood leaking through the gauze in stubborn red streaks. the air is thick with heat and smoke, the scent of gunpowder clinging to his jacket like old regret that he can't seem to wash off. and then he feels it before he realizes, a hand wrapping around his own.

small, warm, yet steady. fingers that wrap around two of his own, like a question asked in the touch rather than through voice. his head turns slowly to look down at jami's shorter stature, noting the cheeks smudged with barely there specks of ash, hair wild from wind and panic. when he gets a good look at her, scanning over her person to ensure that she isn't injured, she is staring at him, just holding on. and ben can't help but stare back, frozen. she didn't ask questions, didn't need explanations; she just reached out to him and held on. his fingers twitch slightly, unsure at first but then they curl just slightly around hers. his calloused grip nearly swallowing her tiny one. not tight, just there. "you okay, jami?" he asks, his timbre quieter than it's been in days.

[isoonna]

he's a gunslinger with her heart on his hip, but she's still beggin' him to pull the trigger. not with that cursed bullet, not with those mythical rounds, but somethin' bigger. better. back-boned with his mouth, right onto hers. the thing about love is that it ain't fade, no matter how far the sunset stretches. regardless of how off into the distance he travels. she still smells him on her clothes. his gunpowder etches into her very smile. he could cock that gun a million times, pull the trigger a thousand, but she'd only remember the curve of his hand. the imprint of his palm. the right and tight and oh-so-delicious twitch of his wrist, cuppin' her in his grasp like putty only he knows how to warm. suffocatin' to some, but like a straight-jacket of relief for others. she knows which one she is.

but sometimes, she ain't so sure which, if any, he's become. the days grow dark like the time grows dim, and being without him is like a rainy day in the bayou, on repeat. ain't no sunshine when he's gone— and he's been gone a long, long, time. maybe not as long as it feels, but she stopped countin' the days when she started countin' her tears, because missin' him is like a thunderstorm. the claps and shivers and sizzles of lightning are always a surprise.

AUGUST 'SIX GUN' LOVELACE [@41caliber] : "tell me it was worth it."

and so is he. showin' up at her doorstep, crackin' open that can of sun, splaying light all over her body just by the very suggestion of his smile. it makes her mad. sick with anger. the type of rage that only he gets from her, these days. (that's the other part of love they ain't tell you about. when they get one part of your heart, they get all of it.) tell me it was worth it, he says, and mae has half a mind to slam that door right in his face. but she can't, because she won't, and she's never been good at givin' up.

"you got some nerve, askin' me that." she spits, but it's hollow— just like those rounds she knows he'll never shoot. "you already know that answer, august. and you ain't stupid enough to show up if you ain't sure." he ain't hers, and she ain't his, but the two of 'em know this answer as well as the other. of course it was worth it. even now, with all that sin and spit and slap of emotion, mae knows that she'd go back and do it all again in a second. (the soft kisses in the morning. the dances in the woods. her giggles 'n grins, pressed up against his spine. tracing his veins right all the way to his heart, just to tell him she likes the way it beats.) "tell me what you're really here for, 'cus i know it ain't just to make a fool outta me."

[carraeras]

she asks for a kiss? SHE GETS A KISS

[toprey]

mari could say she hated albuquerque, but part of her misses the simplicity. rather, the predictability. (a cyclical image. a home base embroidered with decay. cruel, maybe callous, like some singed carcass of a car: smoking in the distance. swollen in its corpsehood. sweltering in the heat.) or, maybe it's more of the survival that she misses. mechanisms of monotonous tones, rearing and whirring and grinding against her back molars until they turned sharp. something familiar. something easy. something known.

out on the road, it's different. the state she lives in doesn't allow much room to breathe— always gasping and gaping and grasping for some kind of stability in the moments where no one is looking. (back alleys. bars. the bracketed space in the shower, where she runs the water until it burns.) the only witness to it is the insects. little motel silverfish that crawl across the tiles, and are too small to signify anything to her cries. moths that flutter towards the light, ignoring the seventh cigarette that mari lights in shaky hands. it's insignificant, regardless. things that you do because they're right, not because they're easy. an aftermath is inevitable, and just because it isn't pretty, doesn't mean it doesn't have purpose. mari tries to remind herself of that, more than anything.

JESSE PINKMAN [@tocook] : "where do you wanna be, ten years from now?"

the future's too far too look bright. a paved road of nothingness, where only the dark feels tangible. it could be worse, she thinks. they could have no future at all. "dunno." mari murmurs, lips still wrapped around a cigarette that swirls up into the moth-worn lights. her gaze flickers to jesse, and then back out towards the empty parking lot. she shrugs, one shoulder inching upward before it slumps back down. she sucks in another inhale, and then purses her lips to target the smoke outward. "i don't r — really think that far, anymore." the truth is hard to say, but a lie would be worse. spitting out rainbows and cherry-pies and candescent lights that flare in the distance of her future is unrealistic. jesse deserves the truth.

"it's hard to i — imagine anything but this, sometimes." mari's lip twists down, and her hand passes a half-burnt cigarette to the other. her lashes flutter, and she flickers her stare back out to the vacancy of the motel. "why?" a glance back, and a wry smile twists up. "you got a p — plan, or something?"

[redemptionmade]

@thcbcys 🎁 - From Kenny to Possibly Carol? :) meme .

"you know what you need, and so does he..." she is, of course -- talking about stuart. as she always does whenever she has a bit too much to drink, to whomever gives a listening ear. is her son the appropriate conversationalist for the current state of her marriage? .. no. she continues on, anyway. "but does it happen?" a rhetorical question, of course. she has an answer. "no!"