In your own space, create a fanwork. Make a drabble, a ficlet, a podfic, or an icon, art or meta or a rec list. Arts and crafts. Draft a critical essay about a particular media. Put together a picspam or a fanmix. Write a review of a Broadway show, a movie, a concert, a poetry reading, a museum trip, a you-should-be-listening-to-this-band essay. Compose some limericks, haikus, free-form poetry, 5-word stories. Document a particular bit of real person canon. Take some pictures. Draw a stick-figure comic. Create something. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
To make something that's not excessively long but also can count... I'm really bad at this. At writing short stories (that make sense on their own, at least).
Title: Empty Houses
Word Count: 599 words.
Characters: Tony Stark
Pairings: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark
It had been a long, long day. For once, Tony was looking forward to going up to his room. Yeah, it was cold, and empty. Yeah, he'd have to walk through the empty tower, the silent kitchen, the darkened rooms, but every part of him ached. His brain was hurting, his back was hurting, his eye was hurting, his arm was hurting, and he was sure he could feel the phantom pain in his chest from the arc reactor.
He just wanted to sleep.
FRIDAY clicked on. "Boss, do you want - "
"Mute," he said, not wanting to hear her voice where it used to just be JARVIS. He didn't want to hear a reminder of his mistakes now.
His footsteps echoed against the tiles, and he ignored the few reflective surfaces. One positive about being the only one in the house, now - he could remove all those surfaces and make sure that he didn't have to look at himself in the eye.
A faint ringing sound came from FRIDAY's speakers - he knew that was what FRIDAY was programmed to do if she was on mute but someone was calling. A glance at the clock showed that it was nine in the evening.
"Who's calling, FRIDAY?" he sighed as he took one last look at the communal - at what had been the communal floor - and then entered the elevator.
"Lt. Col. James Rhodes, Boss," she replied.
Tony frowned. Rhodey had gone to his family with the upgraded braces, because they hadn't seen him since the whole fiasco with the Accords had even started. "Odd," he murmured. "Alright, put him through."
There was a soft click - FRIDAY informing him that she had complied - and then Rhodey's voice came through the speakers. "Hey, Tony Stank, my man!"
Tony let out a breathless little laugh, not quite sure why his throat felt like closing up, and why his eyes were burning. "When are you going to let that go, Rhodey? You want me to bring up things people have called you over the years?"
"Nah, buddy, we're good," Rhodey said, and Tony could hear him chuckling. "But what are you doing man? Where are you? What are you up to?"
The elevator doors opened up on Tony's floor, and he stood there, silent, staring at the huge space, dark, air cold and sterile, the windows completely bare, looking out into the vast dark sky around the tower.
After a few seconds, FRIDAY added, "Boss?"
"I'm - " he cleared his throat, not knowing how his voice had gotten so hoarse, and he tried not to let his voice waver as he continued, " - yeah, of course, yeah, I'm just, just heading to bed. Long day."
There was another few moments of silence, and then Rhodey let out a huff. "Alright, man, you're sending your jet here to North Carolina tomorrow."
The words were so strange and off-topic that Tony paused, no longer staring around at the huge emptiness and instead looking directly at the speakers. "North Carolina? What - are you okay? Are the braces - are there problems?"
"Nah, man, I just can't take much mre of my sister's... hmm. Well-meaning, but highly aggravating mother-henning. You're going to come and rescue me from her clutches."
"We're talking about - "
"Shania. My younger sister."
Tony was startled enough into a laugh. "The headstrong one. I remember her."
"I'm looking for you to come here by tomorrow. Friday, latest. You hear me, Mr. Stank?"
It felt like a small kernal of warmth was lit in his chest, warming the ice that had taken over. "Yeah, I hear you, Pookie-bear."