#maybe reply to a couple of shorter threads

[ann-atar]

Thanks for your thoughts, and I just have a couple of things:

My post was prompted in part by some anon weirdness in my inbox, and one of those messages tipped me over the edge because it said I couldn't possibly have understood or read the Silmarillion, hence my note at the end.

I wasn't responding to a specific post by a single person on Tumblr, but there was one thread that implied that what Sauron was doing was divine justice (I will add it if I can find it) and based on your reply I doubt that was yours.

I'm also a Tolkien fan and I don't want to discount his body of work, including the letters, but I think TROP, as an adaptation, can be treated as a separate entity because so much is changed and will likely be different, with not just the action and timelines being interpreted differently, but maybe some of the themes as well. I see this adaptation as both honoring and challenging the texts, but it is a new adaptation and a product of individuals who are apt to do new things with it, even if they are legally obligated to follow some prescription with their own work.

And I don't think Tolkien would laugh at fans recognizing the inspiration for his work, whether it was knowing that he was christian or something about his life experiences, and no text exists in a vacuum, but I do think he would at least shake his head at fans trying to pin down his ultimate, final intentions or a strict way to read or adapt it, even with regard to some of the larger themes, because for one thing his works went through many iterations and for some time he was always changing them, and his themes and ideas were always evolving to some degree as well.

Was he very passionate about what he wrote, and would he have strong opinions about the adaptations? Of course, he was the author, and I'm sure he would have a very strong and probably very negative reaction about some or all of the adaptations and how we see them, but he's gone and people will continue to interpret and adapt his work in ways he couldn't imagine and likely wouldn't agree with.

For all we know Tolkien might have had a huge problem with TROP's interpretation of Galadriel, or been somewhat surprised by the fact that some of the elves and dwarves and men are Asian or Black or Brown, or that Annatar's time in Eregion seemed a lot shorter than he implied, or with how the rings were created and used, and so on, but does what he said in every instance always matter, or should it?

I do think any author would be pleased by the way his work is still being read and discussed, even if the people doing it are very different from him, or don't share his background, or haven't made an exhaustive study of his correspondence, but who knows? We don't know, and we can't ask him those questions now, today, or accurately predict how his answers might differ from what he said before.

Thinking about the subtle presence of the powers that be and/or the Valar in Rings of Power, and having thoughts about what part they might play in the adaptation, specifically what we’ve seen so far, and going over how those powers that be might view Sauron and his actions, and every time I think about him in that context I feel somewhat sympathetic .

However, not too sympathetic, given his repeated offenses, to qualify him for redemption or some kind of blanket amnesty, at least not before many, many ages of serious contrition, and given that Sauron is Sauron, well. Is that likely?

There are a few different threads I’ve seen that try to make a case for TROP being all about ultimate forgiveness for Sauron, while condemning the choices and actions of Galadriel, Adar, Celebrimbor, Mirdania, or anyone who gets in his way because those individuals were short-sighted or needy, or were motivated by ego or weakness, and that the Valar were handwaving Sauron’s actions or even using Sauron as some kind of tool for divine justice(!).

Do we really think the Valar are indifferent to the suffering of elves and dwarves and men, to the point that they would condemn them to be tortured to death based on a bad choice, or a personal weakness, or a common character flaw? I don't think they are quite that severe in their judgement, but I do think, being something akin to gods, their seeming lack of presence could be interpreted as indifference, and more than that I think their actions happen on a much different time scale, so any action they take might take most of an age to show any results. And of course there would be a lot of unfortunate collateral damage in the meanwhile.

But do we seriously think this means that they would allow all of the violence and destruction we’ve seen so far just to give Sauron a second (third, fourth, fifth) chance to choose a better path before he’s subdued, just because he's a Maia and that somehow makes him their special boy?

No, and I think the show has shown us that this is not the case.

I think Sauron blew it when we were shown what happened in the season two flashback, when we saw his first days as “Halbrand”. Because it feels like that was his chance, and everything he's done and will continue to do in upcoming seasons will show him going deeper into whatever passes for insanity in demi-gods, with little or no understanding of the fact that his vision of order for Middle-earth is just as much an abomination as Melkor's path of destruction.

And that’s the compelling tragedy of Sauron.

Sadly that will mean more and worse consequences for the peoples of Middle-earth in the short term. But the Valar are not indifferent to this, and based on what we've seen they know Sauron needs to be dealt with. But what proof is there of that?

Well, they sent the Stranger/Gandalf, an Istari, and he has been explicitly put on a path to confront Sauron.

Think about the timing of him falling to earth: Sauron was on the raft with Galadriel, not long after Diarmid(!) was trying to get through to Sauron in the hold of that ship (and its subsequent destruction with Sauron on board was anything but a coincidence).

Of course Gandalf has free will too, and might make some mistakes. But he is a powerful force, who also has a different perspective and can play by different rules if he chooses, but he isn’t indifferent to the suffering of the Harfoots, and won't be indifferent to any pain Sauron causes the other peoples of Middle-earth.

So we're watching the consequences of Sauron blowing his latest chance play out, and ultimately I think we know we’ll see the realization of the Valar's condemnation of Sauron's choices and actions via Gandalf, the emissary they sent to counter him and muster forces to help subdue him. And I think the rings, all of them, will come into play during that struggle.

There’s a lot of underlying stuff about free will and the fact that power corrupts running through TROP and Tolkien in general. Celebrimbor made the Three with good intentions despite the fact that wanting to make them was also about ego and his legacy, but we can’t deny that the Three did the job he made them for, and we’ve seen them used to do good things. But Celebrimbor and Galdariel and Gil-galad and anyone else who comes in contact with the Three still have free will, and any attendant flaws that come with free will, and ultimately any powerful tool can be used for good or ill, and will inspire different things in characters according to their individual strengths and weaknesses.

But I do think the Three are more benevolent tools than any of the other Rings, with the One that Sauron will forge out of desperation being the ultimate corrupted tool that could influence the others. So Elrond or Galadriel or even Gandalf might have a better chance of using one of the Three for good, for protection and preservation for some length of time, whereas contact with someone like Sauron would change them based on his intentions, and his intentions are about gaining enough power to subjugate, well, everyone. In his hands, for instance, Nenya’s tendency toward protection would quickly decay into more overt stagnation, and just like men were drawn into the shadow realm by the Nine and the One, someone like Sauron with ill intent or a long history of general malevolence would gradually feed that into any one of the Three and reap the consequences.

In other words it’s not all about the sword, but who wields it.

I do wonder if we’ll see the Three become somewhat tied to the One in TROP, and if so how that will play out. Going back to the books, eventually the Three do lose their powers but there’s no indication that they were corrupted to the degree that the potential of any of the rings of power could corrupt or be corrupted.

The Three are powerful, and they are sought after, but they are not the Silmarils.

But would one of the Three heal or help Sauron? No, and getting back to the first part of this post, there are no shortcuts on the path to healing and redemption, and Sauron can't see that path at this point, and more than that he doesn't even know he's lost in the woods.

Quick aside because I just got a rude anon ask on the subject: Yes, I’ve read Silm and the other books and a bunch of other stuff, but I don’t treat the Legendarium as if I’m a supplicant who only accepts a literal interpretation of something Tolkien said in a lecture or a letter as something akin to religious doctrine, and I think he would laugh himself into a fit to see fans trying to contradict each other that way, especially given how he felt about the so-called dominion of the author. And given that TROP is going at Silm etc. buffet-style I don’t think we can talk about the show and expect it to adhere too strictly to every line the poor man ever wrote. This doesn't mean I didn't understand Silm, but I am coming at the adaptation mostly as it's own "thing." I hope that makes sense.

[wolfbrawn]

ooc . If you’re seeing this, you survived the purge.

[delixatepov]

hey everyone! i'm looking for some active threads on discord (preferably), 20+ only partners. ngl my responses can be spotty, but i will reply. i find discord easier to reply (gifs not required, but tupperbox is). i prefer paragraphs (semi novela lit), but not opposed to shorter. i play m, f, nb with a high preference for female muses.

like this and i will reach out to you. below you'll see plots/fc's i'm interested in, but really happy to chat about any other plots not listed.

plots i’m dying for 

cute lil curious college roommates experimenting (f/f)

sister fucking her brother’s girlfriend

a plot based on ‘tis the damn season…. small town, childhood friends, one stayed put and the other moved away for college… now comes back for the holidays ten years later… pls

divorced couple energy

no humanity vampire couples

our muses to wait for a delayed flight together

our muses to get trapped outside in a blizzard / snowstorm together

You spanked me as a joke in front of our friends but it turned me on and now I’m trying to find excuses to go run off and masturbate where I 100% definitely won’t think about you spanking me definitely not

ghostface anything

Enemies to "I found you while hurt and had to take care of you and in your vulnerable state I saw a side of you I've never seen before" to lovers

Enemies to lovers "who did this to you?" about scars? Great, of course. However, I raise you this: "I did this to you."

best friends to lovers

our muses get stranded in a different country together

jilted-in law and bride to be 

(OT3) I maybe sort of accidentally got turned on while we were laying in the same bed and you’re both clinging onto me from either side and I don’t want to upset you both by moving away but I don’t want either of you to know that I got aroused while we were innocently cuddling. Help. 

small  town  vampire  x  human  au (twilight-vibes)

medical drama (grey’s anatomy vibes) 

camper/camp counselors stuck in terrorized camp (supernatural elements) 

I was teasing you and I called you vanilla and now I’m laying with my hands are tied and shit, is that a vibrator?

reverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend theyre not actually togetherreverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend theyre not actually together

All the supernatural things (werewolves, vampires, witches) 

Demi-God (pjo vibes) 

opps i would love;

homme; nicholas chavez, christopher briney, damian hardung, sebastian stan, dylan o'brien, aaron taylor johnson, charles melton, logan lerman, tom blyth, ryan gosling, andrew garfield, henry cavill, paul mescal, jacob elordi, chace crawford, pedro pascal, sam claflin, ben barnes, matt smith, harry styles, regé-jean page, bill skarsgård, daniel sharman, theo james, garrett hedlund, adam brody, chris evans

femme; aubrey plaza, elizabeth olsen, florence pugh, daisy edgar jones, kathryn hahn, barbara palvin, brie larson, kristen stewart, ana de armas, phoebe tonkin, dakota johnson, nicole wallace, olivia scott welch, adelaide kane, sophia bush, renee rapp, victoria pedretti, elizabeth lail, billie eilish,

nb: emma d'arcy, e.r. fightmaster,

[findroleplay]

woah, hello, friends !

’m looking to take on a couple long-term partners + threads, and this time i’ve got a couple of broad ideas for oc x oc plots that i’m absolutely chomping at the bit to write ! note : they may sound a bit . . . cheesy ? cliche ? but i’m not searching for kitschy sorts of characters. ideally, i’d like to craft realistic, flawed, and fleshed out characters to make these somewhat cheesy plots a bit more authentic !

before i get to my ideas, a bit about myself : i’m a 22 y/o ( they / them ) adv.lit / novella length writer with 10-ish years of experience, give or take. i am absolutely capable of writing shorter, more concise replies when the scene calls for it, or if we establish a desire for rapid fire responses, however as a general rule of thumb, i tend to get carried away when writing . . . so i like my partners to have a similar enthusiasm for response length ! i’m a discord based roleplayer — i prefer to have entire servers dedicated to our roleplay. i'm big on making mood boards, playlists, edits, etc. so i like to have lots of organization. plus, i like to make friends with the people i write with, so having somewhere we can chat, like an ooc channel, is important to me! at this time, and for my own comfort, i am exclusively interested in writing with writers aged 21 or older. this is a non-negotiable. and, finally, NSFW content is always welcome but never necessary. we can touch on this further one-on-one.

now that all of that hullabaloo is out of the way ! here are a few broad ideas i’m enthusiastic about developing — BUT ! please proceed with caution. the following synopses include brief mention of age gap relationships, infidelity, and power imbalances. nothing explicit, but it is mentioned, or implied. if any of that upsets you, please, move along and take care of yourself !

I CONFUSE INSTINCT FOR DESIRE — ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH ?

five long years later, and i'm finally watching succession ! while i don't have the confidence to write any of the canon characters, watching the behind-the-scenes shit-show of conglomerate business has inspired an array of dynamics i'd like to write. specifically, i'm heavily inspired by kendall + roman's characters ( note : i'm literally on like, episode five of season one. this is not a direct, one-to-one interpretation, but rather, inspired by ! ). i'd like to write a character reaching middle age with corporate ambitions, a need to impress their father, a fear of failure, and unhealthy means of coping with the pressure. when i originally began conceptualizing this dynamic, it was the very typical future ceo x assistant dynamic, and while i'm not opposed to that, if you have any strong ideas for the character you'd like to pair against a strong-willed, but insecure business person, i'd love to hear it ! i initially imagined it as an MxF ship, with myself writing the male, as the ambitious businessman, however i could absolutely see it as MxM or MxF should we have any desire to explore themes of compulsive heterosexuality, homo-eroticism, and expectations of oneself along with the inherent themes of age gap and power imbalance that come with this sort of dynamic. anyways, i'd love to know what kind of character you'd like to write against a kendall / roman coded character, and see where we can go from there !

MY REPUTATION'S NEVER BEEN WORSE, SO YOU MUST LIKE ME FOR ME

so — i've never seen nor read daisy jones and the six, however i'm kind of obsessed with the idea of it ! i think it could be entirely entertaining to write a slow, slow burn dynamic between two members of a band who refuse to act on these feelings for one reason or another. are they afraid that admitting their feelings could lead to tensions in the band ? maybe one of them is already in a relationship, maybe both are ? there's so many reasons this could be a sticky situation. while i have more of an idea in my previous synopsis of the character i'd like to play, i don't totally have that for this idea, and would love to develop it together ! open to MxF, MxM, FxF, etc. for this dynamic. ideally, this verse would be a vintage one, taking place anywhere from the 70s to the 90s ? also not opposed to the rockstar x groupie dynamic, but i would want to put enough care and consideration into it to not make it too terribly predictable !

so yeah, after that novel, we've made it to the end ! thanks for sticking with me ! please like this post, and i'll reach out and see if we can figure out a dynamic that works for us :)

( as always, if neither of my ideas caught your eye, but you think we would make good writing partners regardless, feel free to still hit the like button ! i'll hear out just about anything. )

_

[etxrnaleclipse]

Get to know the mun

Tagged by: the lovely @radicalrascals Tagging: literally anyone who would like to do this

name : Pluto

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : it depends on how well we know one another - discord is best for me when I'm mobile but I'm always there in the IMs when I can be

most active muse : it varies, but at the moment probably Ben, Eric and Isabella.

experience / how many years :  I've been on tumblr since 2011 but did some forum rp in 2010

best experience : those times where it starts with a chance encounter (maybe one person likes a starter call or responds to an open) but it just grows into something absolutely awesome (looking at you @radicalrascals @ghostsxagain @xxj0kerxx) .

rp pet peeves : people who blatantly haven't read my rules (or worse, have read them but think they'll be the exception) who then try to write things that I clearly state I won't do. also people who ignore my 'please reblog from the source' - look people I get it, I get that some of you hate that rule. but if you don't like it and don't want to respect it, then please just don't follow me because my rules should not be ignored simply because they inconvenience you.

fluff, angst, or smut : it depends on my mood? no to smut just because I don't write that in threads, but I flick between fluff and angst at the drop of a hat

plots or memes : once again, mood dependent. if my muse is running wild, I love doing plots, but if I'm struggling with replies then I find that memes are great for getting some of my creative juices flowing.

long or short replies : depends on the plot. some threads call for longer replies because they have a lot going on, but others just need shorter ones otherwise you start to waffle on.

time to write : when I have muse? there's legit nothing consistent about that for me lol

are you like your muses : there's some minor things I have in common with a couple, but only things like 'Oscar supports my football team' and 'Eric listens to classical music to relax'. I try not to put much of myself personality wise into my muses just because I prefer to keep it separate

[closedcoffins]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG!)

✿ NAME: Albatross! You can call me Alba if you'd like.

✿ PRONOUNS: Any pronouns. If you have to default to something I'd prefer they/them.

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): Um, a while? Like 4 years on tumblr and 5 more off tumblr.

✿ NAME OF MUSE(S): Like the entire cast of Baccano!, plus a few special guests. Namely Yuri Briar.

✿ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: I prefer discord over Tumblr IMs since they don't notify me very often but I can work with anything.

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: Various online games including public Minecraft servers, Quotev, Skype, and Tumblr! I do Discord rp sometimes but not very often hahaha.

✿ BEST EXPERIENCE: Oh, goodness. I mean, just writing with new people in general? I always love making friends through rp! But runner-up is definitely when people take an interest in Baccano! because of my blog. Whenever it happens I get so excited I start like actually shaking. So yk what maybe that is the first best.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: When people don't communicate what kind of plots they want and leave all the heavy-lifting to you. I understand more so than usual with my circumstances because I know most people aren't familiar with my muses, but there's a line when it comes to the amount of setup I'm willing to do for a scenario. Plots should be a two-way street, yk?

✿ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: I would say I like an equal amount of all three and not an excess of either. Really, I've said this in one of these I did a couple days ago, but I actually like crafting wider plots with everything involved. If I did have to rank them, though, it'd be Fluff > Angst > Smut.

✿ PLOTS OR MEMES: I like to establish plots in the long run, but memes are nice to get for shorter, more inconsequential interactions to flesh out relationships in between the larger plotted events, haha.

✿ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: I get VERY long-winded, I shan't lie. It's hard for me to confine myself to a paragraph---I'd say I write around 3-4 on average, sometimes more or less depending on the muse, thread/ask, and the person I'm writing with.

✿ BEST TIME TO WRITE: Mid-day. I usually do all my drafts during downtime at work---I have a not-very-busy office job so it's easier to get things done there so I have time to do other things, like my art projects, at home.

✿ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): Re: the last time I did a dash game like this---I think every muse of mine in some way has a little bit of myself added to them. But, no. I'm very unlike most of them.

Tagged by: @twiloid and @yorprincess --- thank you both for the tag!

Tagging: I know a bunch of my mutuals got something similar to this from me a couple days ago so just steal it if you haven't and want to!

[garmgeyr]

Solstice Plotting Call

// Keeping this one shorter than Wriothesley's 🤞 Gallagher is just Here. With the mystery surrounding these islands, and their otherworldly nature, we're not going to question the how or why. Your muse can ask him, of course. You'll get a different answer from the man depending on the hour.

I've signed him up for Requiem, but I'd like a couple more interactions. I won't be reblogging the ask meme, but I'll send asks to those who do as ideas strike.

All threads will hopefully be kept under 250 words for the duration of the event. I'm in the Discord server for this event, so ideally DM me there, but I'll answer IMs and replies on this post as well.

Bloom Commission Board (from last month, still looking)

Penacony driving school: Gallagher isn't a student, and he doesn't seem like an instructor either. You don't really know why he's here, and good luck getting a straight answer. Nevertheless, he's your company for this driving obstacle course... and probably a good thing, too, after the car goes careening off its designated course and toward the more dangerous dream wilderness. This thread will be less about driving and more about getting back to civilization before the nightmares show up.

Solstice Commission Board

Ghost Stories: I'm imagining one of two scenarios: 1) Gallagher's hanging out by a bonfire. Your muse decides to come take a break, not even necessarily with the intent to talk to him, but they get to talking anyway. Rather than a spoken ghost story, it's the shadows that start to twitch and convulse unnaturally. Are your muse's eyes playing tricks on them? Maybe they think they've accidentally fallen asleep and are witnessing nightmares blending with reality? It doesn't last long, and nevertheless, now your muse has a ghost story of their very own. Or 2) a three-way thread. Two muses begin by sharing their own spooky stories, and Gallagher listens in. He'll contribute every now and then, but he likes hearing other people's stories more than offering his own. The thread can follow a similar trajectory to the above, where the shadows bring the story to life right before their eyes.

Unrelated idea: Not a pre-written commission prompt, but the mods have said that any interactions within the setting can count for shiny flotsam. One thing Gallagher can be counted on is being there when things get dangerous. Your muse could be exploring the forest, or the mountains, or maybe the water's edge, when aggressive animals/monsters/sealife - agitated for one reason or another - attack. Enter Gallagher, and the two of them can fend these creatures off as they try to make their escape.

About Gallagher at the beach

General attire is not too different from what he ordinarily wears, just without all the accessories (tie, gloves, vest, shirt is NOT tucked in even slightly). Kind of just looks like he just got off from work.

He has a reputation for being lazy. This is not changing. In fact, it will probably only be worse. Potential interactions can be centered around dragging him into something he doesn't really want to be a part of. Try to catch him before he contrives a lie to slip out again.

With that said though, making drinks? Cooking? He's got you. Some of it might be a little experimental, but it will taste good at least. He'll be most at home hanging around a fire, a grill, or the bar.

Otherwise, he'll be lounging beachside with a drink. Or several. Old dog keeping one eye on the youngsters kind of vibe.

[nobilismare]

Someone give me the energy to reply

[heartbsl]

perks of jcink for rp

i’ve seen a couple of people in the rpc interested in jcink rping and as someone who’s been rping on the platform for 5+ years, i thought i would make a list of some perks of the platform that i believe lends itself to a good rping experience! 

i know jcink can seem intimidating so this is not a tutorial on how to rp on jcink but rather maybe some reasons to check it out! a lot of jcink rps are guest friendly so you can just poke around them and see all the accounts & current threads to see how it might look in action. i’m also happy to answer any questions you might have, i’d just love to see some new people trying out jcink!

jcink is rper friendly

the creator is super responsive in support forums and is well aware that rpers make up a large member base

they often add features over time that help make rping easier!

much more stable & reliable. i have never heard of boards getting randomly deleted like what is happening with tumblr right now

account creation & account switcher

accounts on a jcink site are incredibly easy to create. you can reuse the same email for multiple accounts 

if you have multiple characters you create separate accounts for each of them and they can be linked to one parent account

there is a drop down menu to switch between all your accounts and when you are posting you can select which account to post as

all notifications for sub accounts can be sent to your parent account to have it all in one place!

threading

a jcink board is made up of forums & subforums, which are sorted into different categories. there are various forums for actual rping: text messages, phone calls, and locations in the setting (residences, dining, etc) where threads can take place

each thread is created as a topic in a forum where each participant will post replies in back and forth, no reply trimming necessary. this makes it super easy to read and have in one place to return to after it’s been completed as well

topics can be ‘tracked’ which will give you a notification whenever there’s a reply

threads can be any length! while the forum format makes it much easier to write longform threads, there are plenty of jcink writers (myself included) that write shorter “rapid fire” posts which can be anywhere from a one liner to ~250 words

profiles

one of the features jcink added was customizable profile fields. sites can add any fields they want for various stats on the profile view for accounts

because of this a lot of sites have moved over to profile applications which means you just complete the profile as the application. it can include stats, freeform / bio, and even a moodboard depending on how the site has set it up

it’s super easy to see other character’s information because it’s included on the profile view

post templates 

though plain text readability is a huge plus for forum based rp, most sites also have post templates that utilize html to format posts for threads, text / phone calls, social media accounts, and development posts

it is pretty much standard that sites will have their own “code bank” for members to use on site and you won’t have to find or make your own!

these templates can be extremely helpful for things like an instagram account for your character, you don’t need to use a graphics template just plug in photo links to the html template

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Write about Tongs you coward

Some Tongs content for the many people that requested her!!!! I'm so glad people seem to like Tongs because oh boy do I have plans for a fic.

Four would like to say that the sound of shattering glass at dark o’clock at night is an unusual occurrence. He’d like to say that the sound is unexpected. Suspicious. Odd. He’d like to say that the sound sends him bolting upright in bed. That it sends him stumbling down the stairs to check on his shop.

Four would like to say those things. He really would.

They might have even been true at one point.

Now?

Now the sound of shattering glass disturbing him in the middle of his sleep cycle at bullshit o’clock merely sends him rolling over so he can muffle a groan into his pillow.

One night.

One peaceful night.

Was that really too much to ask for?

The sound of continued, muffled scrabbling from downstairs answers that question with a resounding yes, yes apparently that is too much to ask for What a couple of assholes Hey We happen to like those assholes Speak for yourself!

Four waits for the sound to die down before rolling back over and staring at the ceiling.

All is quiet for a blessed moment.

...Maybe they’re done?

…

…

…

The sound of something long and metallic hitting the floor with a resonant CRACK says No they aren’t God damn it That’s our queue!

Four rolls back over and mashes his face more fully into his pillow and groans a little louder for a second before slowly dragging himself into a sitting position. He blindly fumbles with a candle and matchbox  on the nightstand– usually used for late night reading but which have gained this new almost nightly use– eventually managing to get the thing lit.

It's not a particularly strong candle. Not nearly as efficient at lighting up a room as their lantern but it does its job well enough, creating a five foot bubble of light around Four so he can see the stairs.

Based on the way the footsteps and clattering and muffled cursing comes to an abrupt halt, it also does its job in telling the other tenants of the house that they’ve been caught. Four takes the last couple of stairs at a stomp, just to drive home just how not happy he is about having to do this again.

Once at the bottom of the steps, the smithy takes a quick survey of the storefront. Nothing broken or out of place. Not that he had really expected otherwise. The last time these two got into one of their “late night disagreements” as Red called them in either the shop or the forge, Four had split, giving them not just a piece of his mind, but every piece of his mind. They weren't done lecturing and yelling and guilt tripping and sneering until the sun had peeked over the horizon. No doubt the deviants wanted to avoid a repeat performance.

Which just leaves the kitchen.

Four shoves open the door with probably more force than is necessary while pushing the candle forward so he can survey the damage.

Though the candle barely lights up the room, it shows Four exactly what he needs to see: the bright gleam of several pieces of silverware on the floor, glinting amongst the shards and dirt of a now destroyed potted plant.

It also shows him the culprits: two pairs of eyes, one at the height of the counter top, wide and round and flickering between green and orange in the candle light, and another pair floating up by the ceiling, glowing a deep crimson.

“She started it,” says the crimson eyes.

“I didn't ask,” Four replies blandly, setting the candle on the floor beside the mess. He grimaces at the sight. The casualty was his mini cactus. One from the Desert of Doubt that Zelda had given to him, stating that even he couldn't kill it.

How long did this one last Three weeks New record It might not be dead One of its ‘arms’ are off But the roots look to be in alright shape We’ll repot it tomorrow With what pot Well–

“She broke that too,” Sounds above Four’s head.

A hiss crackles from the counter top.

“Hey, no!” spits back the first voice, “That doesn't matter! You touched it last which means you broke it!”

A responding hiss followed by a grumbling meow.

There is a scandalized gasp from overhead followed by a spat out, “Why don't you come over here and say that to my face, you overgrown throw pillow!”

“Shadow,” Four cuts in, voice as tired and exasperated as he can make it,“You’re arguing with a cat.”

Four doesn’t need the candle to know that a scowl accompanies Shadow’s annoyed tisk.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Shadow grumbles, finally lowering himself from the air and stepping into Four’s bubble of light so the hero can see his glower. “You talk to her all the time. How you managed to find such a smartass of a cat is beyond me. I swear, she says the worst shit when you can't understand her.”

There is a soft thump from behind him and then a large, warm body presses itself into Four’s side, purring already.

“Kissass,” Shadow mutters, crossing his arms.

Tongs merely cuddles closer, sweeping herself across Four’s side until she can push her head beneath Four’s chin, trilling happily.

Four rolls his eyes at the both of them, gives Tongs a quick scratch behind her ears, and straightens up, taking his candle with him.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s downright vulgar,” Four says, not even trying to sound sympathetic as he walks over to the fireplace to grab the broom, Tongs threading between his legs with every step. “Just like I’m sure she’s the one who suggested… hmm, what was it again?”

Four takes hold of the broom and turns back to face Shadow. He folds one hand over the top of the wooden handle and rests his chin there, letting a faux thoughtful expression cross over his face.

Below him, Tongs sits, her posture tall and perfect, her tail curled around her paws smugly.

Shadow sticks his tongue out at her.

Four clears his throat and Shadow's attention snaps back toward him. This time, Four simply raises an eyebrow which sends Shadow’s eyes all around the room, like he's looking for any other words than the ones Four is thinking of.

Eventually, he admits defeat, throwing his head back petulantly with an exaggerated sigh.

“...Night forging…” the shade mutters.

“Night forging!” Four repeats brightly, sarcastically, striding past his shadow back towards the mess. “That's what it was.”

“She did actually suggest that though!” Shadow insists, exasperated. “She thought if we did some of your work in the night, you would have more free time during the day. It’s not my fault I didn't know how to run your forge!”

Four pulls up short at that, turning to glance at Tongs, who had leap back up onto the counter to supervise their cleaning effort.

“Did you actually suggest night forging?”

Green-orange flickering eyes blink at him slowly as she tilts her head with a purr, the picture of innocence.

Four sighs with a crooked smile, holding out the broom for Shadow to take, which he other does after only a moment's hesitation.

Tongs is much too big to be picked up anymore. Has been for most of the time she's been with him. But if there's one thing his adventures and occupation are good for, it's maintaining strength.

Though she would stand only a head shorter than him if she were to be on her hind legs, Four hefts the massive cat into his arms. And boy, is she an armful. He can barely contain her length and mountain of long, grey fur in his arms, but even with the second it takes to adjust his hold on her, Tongs simply relaxes into his hold belly up, staring at him.

“You’re supposed to be making sure he doesnt get into trouble,” Four tells her with fake solemnity, ignoring the Hey, I resent that! that sounds from behind them.

Tongs stares at him for a moment, as though considering his light scolding.

And then reaches up and gives Four’s nose a lightning quick bop.

Four laughs.

“You're a brat,” he tells her, turning and beginning to walk back out of the kitchen .

Tongs responds by shifting her shoulders slightly, snuggling more firmly into him even as she smacks him in the mouth with her feathery tail.

“Uh, hello?!”

Four pauses in shouldering open the door and turns to see Shadow, broom in hand, other hand on hip, eyebrows high,  and eyes wide.

“Aren’t you going to make her help clean up?”

Four glances down at Tongs in his arms.

She stares back up at him.

Against his side, he can feel her tail flicking mischievously. He sends her an answering smile.

“She's a cat, Shadow. I’m not sure how much help you expect her to be without opposable thumbs,” Four reminds with a shrug and a grin that only gets smugger as Shadow’s face goes from expectant to disbelieving. “I’m sure you’ve got this. See you in the morning.”

The door swings shut behind Four, muffling any response Shadow may have thrown at his back, leaving the boy and his cat to head upwards, laughing as they head back to bed.

[eusyram]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG

NAME: “author-kun” (nah, whatever you want works) PRONOUNS:  (whatever you like, or just go with she/her to match the muse) PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: tumblr DM/askbox me all you want NAME OF MUSE(S): mary sue + a bunch of other retired/sleeping/inactive ones RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): idk, early 2000s to now i’d say PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: forums, tumblr, email. tried discord once and quit it forever

BEST EXPERIENCE: there’s been a lot of good ones but i look back fondly on the time i put out an rp ad for muses willing to be murdered and then did threads with each of the victims where i did just that. or the time a friend and i RP’d two muses that ended up as a couple and lived through multiple events together so there was a whole timeline going of their adventures. very cool.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: very little phases me, but one thing i find that makes RP hard is when your partner doesn’t leave something for you to pick up on/connect to, whether it’s a line of dialogue or a reference to the setting/event/thing you’re doing together, or a hint (in like body language or etc.) to your muse’s thoughts. i’m not a mindreader and i don’t want to godmod your muse, so throw me a bone when we chat! this rarely happens (only once in my RP career) and i’m good at making things up on the fly to compensate but yeah, RP is magical precisely because it’s a two-way street. insult my muse, laugh at her, dote on her, ignore her, whatever, it’s all good. i’ll have fun with you too, i promise.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT:  my smut sucks. fluff and angst it is. i also enjoy crack, leaning on the 4th wall, and dashes of psychological horror.

PLOTS OR MEMES:  sadly i don’t think i’ve ever seen a plot to its end (besides with that one RP partner) but i still like them even if they’re incomplete. maybe i can try something in a future event? a lot of this stuff comes spontaneously. memes are always welcome, of course.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: doesn’t matter, but i try to match length. or sometimes my replies get longer/shorter during the course of a thread and that’s okay too. don’t feel obligated to match my length either, write what you feel is natural

BEST TIME TO WRITE: lunch breaks at work and evenings before bedtime (sometimes in bed too lol)

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): i used to think we were 2% alike but upon closer inspection it may be...15% to 25%? which is a little concerning but not fatal yet. at the very least, we have similar tastes in cute boys...

tagged by:��took it off the dash tagging: everyone who RPs!!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Not bad at all.

FRANCISCO ‘CATFISH’ MORALES. ┃ TRIPLE FRONTIER.

❝ request by @chibsytelford: Heyo. What about reader being very shy around Frankie on the first date, who's also shy, and one of them just cracks a joke and they just laugh and laugh and the ice is broken, and they have the best date. ❤ Thank you.

❝ words: about 1.9k.

❝ a / n: first time writing for Frankie! I'm really excited and I hope you all enjoy it.

Gif credits to the author.

“Santiago García, I swear that if you stand me up, I'm gonn—”.

“(Y/N)?”

Your blood freezes at the call as your eyes go wide, keeping the phone in your ear as you spin around with a forced and ashamed smile on your lips, you feel your knees weak watching Frankie some steps away from you with both hands inside the red and black flannel jacket. Son of a bitch. Hanging up the call —or better said, the voicemail— the two of you come closer to each other.

“What 'you doing here?”

As the question comes out of his mouth, there's an awkward moment where you don't know if you should greet with a kiss on your cheek or hugging, being a mix of both that makes you giggle.

“Well, uh… It was supposed I'd have dinner with Santi, but… he hasn't shown yet”. You reply puckering your lips, noticing the change in his gesture. “I've been waiting for the last twenty minutes and I'm really hungry”.

You can't help but frown watching him rub the back of his neck, slightly moving the hat covering his softs curls. Squinting at him you don't really need Frankie to speak to know what's happening. You can feel your face and the tip of your ears burning because of the embarrassment. Last week you confessed to your best friend the things you were starting to feel for Fish and he has decided to force you to take a step ahead.

And seems like Santiago has done the same with him. But, does it mean he feels something for you too? You sigh rubbing your face trying to calm down the heat covering your skin, while he babbles random words. You see him waving a trembling hand between the two of you, perceiving he's as nervous as you are. That causes you to curve your lips up with a soft funny smile.

“Listen, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I— I— I… shit”. He ends up grunting stroking his lips and his chin passing his palm over them, putting his terrified dark chocolate eyes from you. Frankie looks like a pudding and you can swear it's the sweetest thing you have ever contemplated. Too captivated by the way he has to raise his black hat from his head to brush his hair using only three fingers, before putting it on again, he takes your silence like a negative. “Lemme walk you home at least”.

His beg throws you back to reality, finding an insecure gaze looking for a positive this time. It's the first time since you met him two years ago that you watch him doubting, feeling unsure of himself. He has always given you the impression of being a cool-headed and confident man, but now Fish is quite the opposite.

“I'm hungry tho”. You reply as soon as you can react. “I just… think he did it on purpose. Making me wait for dinner, you know… So I wouldn't say no”.

Santi knows pretty well how to play his cards. It is his specialty. But that hasn't sound how you were expecting, as Frankie continues feeling ashamed, probably misunderstanding you.

“I me— mean, I wouldn't say no anyway”. You confess with a soft whisper, bowing your gaze down to his boots for a second. A brief second that seems enough to offer you a hand without noticing it.

Your heart races with the deep belief it could fly off from your chest when your cold fingers get laced with his warm ones. An electrifying shiver roams your body from your tiptoes to the top of your head, as he secures your hands together to come inside the restaurant. Only like a gentleman would do, he keeps open the door for you to walk in first, not loosening your connection at any time. For an instant, you can't help but fantasize about having real dates with Frankie, with him falling for you while continuing to believe he's just being polite and compensating you for Pope's ambush.

You lead your steps through the hallway between tables with old couches just in like the fifties, till the end of the place with the last table free close to the large window from where you can see the street. That's when, much to your regret, your hands are separated to take a seat in front of the other, occupying yours then with the menu to calm the nervousness shaking them briefly. You're going to kill Santi tomorrow. How does he dare to play dirty to you? And poor Frankie who —probably— could have a better plan than having dinner with you, if it wasn't for his friend.

The silence is installed soon around your table after the drinks are served, feeling the tension in the environment while you continue not knowing what to say or how to break the ice. You're about to tell him that he doesn't have to stay, just like he has said a couple of minutes before, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out; totally enraptured on the way he's looking at you waiting for something. You can't help but force another smile pursing your lips shamefacedly. Putting down your eyes over the menu between your hands, you try to pretend you're actually reading it, but your mind is busier on how the simple touch of his hand stole the air from your lungs.

“Pope told me you're learning Spanish”.

You have to hide your face for a second, cursing your damn best friend in silence before sticking your head out of the carte nodding with your cheek.

“Why?” Frankie sounds so curious that makes you think he maybe knows the real and main reason.

“Oh, uh… expand knowledge”.

You're a terrible liar and he doesn't need to be a genius to notice it.

“Tell me something in Spanish”. He asks cockily, placing his arms over his backrest.

You chuckle shaking your head this time while saying no once and once. But when he leans over the table, forearms against the edge of it, you have to gulp before choking on your own saliva like an idiot. The heat invading your whole anatomy again causes you to lick your lips, hoping that gesture calms you somehow.

“There's a… sentence that… I find funny for some re— reason”.

“Okay… Go'head”.

You make a short pause, finding some encouragement to utter it by remembering why you started to learn it. To impress him. To talk with him and call his attention.

“Juan come manzanas”.

(Juan eats apples).

Your accent is horrible, that's a fact, you knew that; but you feel more embarrassed when he remains silent for a second, breaking into a burst of loud laughter after not being able to contain it. You can't avoid a chuckle either, leaving in the background your shame, to focus on the beautiful melody his laugh is. You could spend all your life listening to it without abhorring it.

“Your pronunciation is awful”. He giggles adjusting his hat, raising a little the visor to look you better.

“Woah, thank you”. You reply with a humorous grimace drawn on your lips and a light sarcasm in your tone of voice. “I really appreciate it coming from you”.

“You're welcome”.

Shaking your head you begin to feel somewhat relaxed, finding a topic to talk about and joke about it so this situation is less awkward. You grab your beer to have a sip whilst he continues keeping visual contact with you, noticing he wants to add something but he doesn't dare. You know what it is, tilting your head as your eyes are narrowed.

“I don't trust you to be my teacher, surely you'll teach me the wrong things to make fun of me”.

“Meh…” He replies waving a hand jokingly, causing you to chuckle again.

As the night goes on and you discover more interesting things about him and his stage in the army, the dinner comes to an end and he insists you to walk you home. He doesn't want either to finish your conversation, talking about everything and nothing, in reality, just enjoying your voice and how excited you sound while talking about one of your hobbies or your favorite tv show. Just like you, he couldn't get tired of your company.

You reach your house sooner than expected, having been entertained and feeling this time your way back home has become shorter than ever. The nerves kick you again standing close to your porch not knowing what to say, what to do, or offer him a last drink. You'd sell your soul to the devil for five minutes more, but maybe you need to take it easy.

“Thanks for walking me”. You utter in a thin voice thread, playing with the keys between your fingers.

“It's been a good night”. Frankie opines then keeping a hand in a pocket and using the other to scratch a side of his neck. “I mean… we can repeat it whenever you want”.

Like another date? Has it been a date, actually? Or just two friends hanging out?

“Yeah! Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me”. You nod an instant before letting go a soft sight. “Uh… I should… you know”.

“Yeah, 'course. Good night, (Y/N)”.

“Good night, Fish”.

Offering him one last smile, you turn around to go upstairs your porch straight to the front door. But as soon as you introduce the key in the lock, you're interrupted.

“Hey!” You face him again, curious and intrigued, watching him coming closer towards you with his hat now in a hand. “How bad would be if… I kiss you?”

That's the most unexpected question you have ever heard, causing your brain to collapse momentarily until you realize it hasn't been a figment of your imagination. The smirk on his face curves shyly in the right corner of his lips, stopping his feet not too far from yours.

“Not… bad at all”. You giggle in response. What else could you say?

His mouth meets yours with a soft sweet touch. Just a touch, until they get used to each other. Slowly, Frankie places his hands on your lower back seeming afraid if you suddenly decide it's a terrible idea, and take a step back. This feeling disappears when yours land on both sides of his neck, securing a little more the grip and shortening the small distance between your chests. He tastes like beer and chocolate, after sharing a piece of brownie like dessert. For you, Frankie tastes like heaven. And without planning it, he needs the urge to slide his tongue between your lips to find yours. By inertia, your fingers tour his skin till being gently nailed in the back of his neck, breathing through your nose not wanting to finish the kiss.

As both of you swirl your tongues around the other, you become a little addicted, almost moaning inevitably against his lips when you have to stop not having enough air filling your lungs.

“How bad would it be if I ask you to stay?” You murmur unable to believe what you have just said.

“Not bad at all”. He doesn't hesitate, caressing the tip of your nose with his, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tighter and pepper your lips as you try to open the front door.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

[browniefox]

Color Theory

@wrightfamilyweek Day 2 - Investigation/Hijinks

In which an anniversary is coming up, so Trucy makes some plans.

You can also find this on AO3 right here :)

“Have fun at work, Daddy!”

Trucy runs up to Daddy and hugs him around the stomach. He kisses the top of his head.

“Mmhm, I expect your homework to be done and you to be in bed by the time I get home, alright? No exceptions!"

“Of course!”

“And no trips to Germany, alright? I’m sure you can hold off for another few months.” Daddy teases. Trucy sticks his tongue out at him and he ruffles her hair before going out the door. In a few months, she is going to actually get to go with Daddy on one of his trips to see Miles, a reconnection between the two of them since Trucy's own little trip a year ago.

As the door closes, Trucy runs over to the window and waits until she sees Daddy riding down the street on his bike, officially out of the building. Her homework is already done, most of it finished during class time and the rest of it finished up during recess and on her way home from school. Walking while writing had made her numbers come out a little odd, but it didn’t matter, because now she had hours and hours of time to work.

She stops by the fridge, staring up at the calendar. It’s four weeks away from the date circled in red, and two weeks from the date that sits ominously empty. It’s plenty of time, though.

Trucy makes a lap around the office, double-checking that the windows are locked just like Daddy does every time before leaving. Everything seems safe and sound, so she grabs her backpack and leaves, making sure she has the spare key and locking the door behind her. Daddy won’t be home until late, but she’s still going to make care to be home with plenty of time to spare. The meer idea of putting him through the same fear of last year sits in her chest like a promise.

It’s a few bus-stops to get to Gummy and Maggey’s house. They’re both out at the moment, so Trucy finds the spare key in the fake rock and lets herself in. She’s spent a lot of time over here by now, and the couple has spent alot of time over at the office, the big and towering man she’d met at the airport transforming into a familiar and lovable family friend.

She skips over to the closet, pulling out the supplies stuck in there. Streamers and confetti, magic wands and fake flowers, tumbling out from where Gummy had helped her shove them in last time. She looks down at the supplies and begins organizing it into the different acts that they’re associated with. There’s a lot of pieces, a lot to get over to the Wonder Bar eventually. Keeping so much of it over here makes it harder to practice back at home, but that’s kind of the point, even if it’s really annoying.

Gummy and Maggie came home after an hour, setting their things down and chatting about their day while Gummy starts dinner. The smell fills the house, warm and comforting. Trucy likes the Gumshoe house. It’s not too big, but not too small either. Gummy and Maggey used to clean it up before she came over, but they’ve stopped making that special little change for her, and so she gets to see it all lived in, a sock strewn here, a few dishes left out, pillows lying wherever they were last placed. Small things that make the place not a house but a home. She’s never had a home like this one, and oh there are sometimes where she’ll be lying on the couch and imagine what it would be like to stay here.

She knows she could.

Daddy has made it clear that if she ever felt dissatisfied with the cramped office, with him, all she has to do was say something. Gummy and Maggey have mentioned, before, that they’d be willing to take her in if anything ever happened to Daddy. Gummy had laughed about all the sorts of injuries Daddy tended to accrue, recounting a story about Daddy getting amnesia before a case - Trucy knew that one, she’d read it a bit ago.

Trucy doesn’t want to leave the cramped little office.

After dinner, Trucy uses Gummy’s phone. Gummy and Maggey know how to set up her stuff for a performance by now - they’ve already agreed to be her stage crew for the performance. While they’re doing that, Trucy calls up Aunty Maya.

“How’s my favorite magician doing?” Maya answers, and Trucy can hear the smile in her voice.

“Working on her next trick.” Trucy replies. Maya makes a humming sound.

“Well, things are going well on our end over here. Are you sure about the color? You don’t want to go darker?” Maya asked.

“Nope! It’s, well, there’s a reason for the shade.” Trucy says. She can hear Maya hum in understanding over the receiver.

“Well, I’m almost finished with it, although I’ll probably come up soon just to make sure everything is right. Pearly says hi, by the way.”

“Oh! Is she there?! Is she there?! Hi Pearls!” Trucy shouts over the phone and gets a distant and soft ‘hi Trucy!’.

“When I come down I’ll bring Pearly with me, don’t worry. If I didn’t,she might just run the whole way over there anyway!” Maya laughs and Trucy laughs along.

“If everything’s working out, then I’m gonna have to go. I need to make sure the rest of the show is ready to go!” Trucy says.

“Alright, alright, just say you’re afraid I’m going to start prattling on about the new season of Rubber Samurai. But you know there-”

“Love you Aunty Maya bye!” Trucy hits the end call button still chuckling to herself. She hopes that Aunty Maya makes true on her promise to come back down and to bring Pearls before the big day, but if she doesn’t then Trucy guesses she can wait that long, even if it’ll be agonizing.

She stares at the next number for a long long while before finally hitting the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.

“Gumshoe, this had better be fucking import-”

“Hi, Miles!” Trucy chirps. There’s silence on the other end.

“... who is this?” Miles grumbles.

“Trucy Wright!”

“Trucy?!” Miles sounds a little more awake now.

“Yup!”

“Ms. Trucy… why are you calling me at… three in the morning?” Miles groans.

“Th… three in the… OH!” Trucy gasps, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to take into account time differences. “Oh my god, Miles, I’m so sorry, it’s pretty late here and-”

“It’s, it’s fine Ms. Trucy. Just tell me what you were calling about… from Gumshoe’s phone? Is your father alright?” Worry creeps into Miles voice.

“Oh, yes, Daddy’s fine! Daddy’s just at work right now, and I went over to Gummy and Maggey’s! We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and then we’re gonna play a card game, and then Gummy is gonna drive me back to the office ‘cause it’s all dark now!” Trucy says.

“Ms. Trucy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but again, it is three a.m. here…” Miles sighs.

“Right! Right, um… Mr. Edgeworth, do you think you could help me with a little something.”

“I’m going to need a bit more information than that.”

Trucy rattles off her little plan into the phone. Miles stays silent for the entire explanation, only grunting here and there to assure her that he is still awake and listening on the other end.

“... this is very short notice.” Miles says.

“Oh,” Says Trucy, looking down at her feet, “Well, that’s okay, I’m sure together, the rest of us-”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, just that next time you’re planning something like This, please, tell me about it a little more ahead of time.”

“Okay! Yeah! Next time! And this time… you can do it?” She double checks.

“Yes, you can count on me, Ms. Trucy.”

“Thank you! Um, I’ll let you get back to sleep, thank you!”

Trucy skips back into the kitchen, where Gummy and Maggey have set up a board game. She still has her show to practice a bit more, and even now thinking about it she’s a little nervous, but she’s found she’s more excited. It’s coming together.

oOo

“Please, Daddy, please, come and see my show tonight? Pleaseeeee?”

Phoenix lets out a long sigh. Trucy is bouncing around in excitement in front of him. She’s already done her stage makeup, and he’d helped her put little weaving braids into her hair. Most of it will be covered up by her hat, but there are usually moments during the performance where the hat comes off, and so she needs to look amazing no matter what’s going on. Phoenix is fine to help her with this, but on today of all days, all he wants to do is sit in his office, read through old case files, and mourn what he has lost.

He was disbarred two years ago. That both feels like too much and not enough time. For the most part, he likes to think that he’s been coping with it well. He’s been working, and raising Trucy, and he’s had some other little things in the works, but on today of all days, it’s so hard to focus and not feel the ache of what was taken from him, of what he’s lost, of those who have come to his door in the past couple years looking for help and having to be turned away.

“Trucy, baby,” Phoenix starts, trying to let her down easy, but Trucy stomps her foot.

“No, Daddy, please, just, just come? To the show? Please?” She begs.

She’s been 'off' all week, too quiet and then too talkative in bursts that serve to confuse Phoenix. Now, there’s something almost akin to fear in her eyes, and it tugs at Phoenix’s heartstrings.

“Alright, sweetie, let me just,” He looks down at himself, still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He’d meant to get dressed today, but even now he’s struggling to find the energy to get into something better, and eventually he just says lamely, “Put some shoes on.”

He gets a pair of beat-up sneakers on and walks outside with Trucy, who is still vibrating with energy. He considers for a moment that perhaps he should buy a new pair of shoes, but then he sees Trucy’s cape, starting to look thread-bare in places and sitting so much shorter on her than it did two years ago. It used to fall to cover her almost completely in a mysterious sort of way, but now you can see her entire hands. Trucy has told him before it’d be fine, her cape had been too long anyway, but maybe he should start to consider how to get her something new and nice. Things for himself could be put off as long as they needed to be.

The ride down to the Wonder Bar is quiet between them, Trucy sitting on his handlebars with careful balance. The first five times they did it, Phoenix had been worried about her falling off or something, but now it was routine if they had anywhere they both had to be and didn’t have the time to puzzle through bus schedules or the budget for a taxi.

Phoenix recognizes some of the people in the Wonder Bar, and Mr. Wunderbar himself comes over and greets.

“Ah, Ms. Wright, so glad to see you! Your assistants are already backstage.” Mr. Wunderbar says. Phoenix’s brow furrows.

“Assistants? You mean the your staff?” Phoenix asks.

“Alright thanks Mr. Wunderbar Daddy find a seat love you bye!” Trucy says in one breath and runs over to the stage.

“This way, Mr. Wright. Trucy asked that we have a table upfront reserved just for you.” Mr. Wunderbar leads the way to one of the tables close to the stage, which does indeed have a a ‘Reserved’ marker on it. Phoenix feels suddenly self conscious in his outfit. He’d been planning to sit in the back, where nobody could see him, and he feels like everybody in the bar, waiting for Trucy to perform, are staring at him.

Mr. Wunderbar took his order and then slipped away. Phoenix drumms his fingers on the table, a cowardice sweeping through him with such force that he almost gets up and walks away. Something odd is going on, and it's making him even more nervous.

“Oh good, Trucy was really worried you wouldn’t show up.”

Phoenix jumps at the familiar voice, and spins around to see Maya and Pearls.

“Wh- hey, what are you two doing here?!” Phoenix jumps up and hugs both of them, “And especially what’s Pearls doing in here?”

“Mr. Wunderbar says that so long as nobody at our table orders drinks, he’ll allow it this once.” Maya says, sitting down, and Pearls sits on the other side of Phoenix, sandwiching him between the Fey’s.

“But why are you two-”

“Now Nick, do you really think we’d let you spend today on your own to mope?” Maya sets her hands on her hips. Phoenix looks away. He doesn’t point out that they didn’t last year, because it’s not their responsibility to look after him. Maya has her own life she’s living. She had texted and called him, though, regularly, throughout the day, at random intervals. She threatened that if he didn’t pick up any of the times, she’d be coming over right way, “I’ll admit, though, clearly we came mostly to see Trucy perform. Right Pearls?”

“Yeah! She’s so amazing, Mr. Nick! And we also had to bring the-” Pearls starts to say, but Maya puts a finger to her lips and shushes Pearls, who’s mouth slams shut.

“... alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Phoenix asks more plainly.

“So she still hasn’t seen fit to tell you yet?”

And then, slipping into the fourth seat at the table, is Miles. Miles, in California, in the flesh, in the Wonderbar.

“M-Miles! What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter had a simple request, and I obliged.” Miles sniffs, “You look,” Miles regards Phoenix and Phoenix looks away, wishing he’d brought something to cover his head as well, “Alright, all things considered.” He ends.

“No need to sugar coat it, Miles.” Phoenix laughs bitterly.

“I’m not. You seem to forget you’re not the only one who has gone through some trying times.”

Before Phoenix can formulate anything to say to that, the lights in the bar dim. The curtain lifts, but there’s a sheet behind it, so that all once can see of Trucy is her silhouette.

“Now introducing… Trucy Gramraye!” The announcer booms, and there’s some applause, even though nothing’s happened yet, Trucy still not seen.

“There are times that we, in life, come to a crossroads,” Trucy’s voice booms through the speakers over a mystical sounding soundtrack, “ Where we our lives take sudden changes.”

Oh, Phoenix thinks, heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach, a theory forming in his mind, She wanted me here for her Last Show. Did something happen that made her want to stop being a magician? He’s tried to be supportive, even though he’s had some trouble keeping track of the supplies she needs, and how to help her out, with her teaching him far more than he can possibly teach her about this stuff. He’s offered to get in touch with Max Galactica, but Trucy had made it plain her opinion of that magician.

“Sometimes, you need to say things. And sometimes actions - and appreances - speak louder than words.”

Phoenix almost wants to stand up, to shout at her that no, he doesn’t want her to give up her magic just because she thinks it’s going to make him happy, but he’s frozen in his seat as the sheet of paper hiding his daughter from view is torn through and fog comes rolling out… but she’s not there.

In a puff of smoke, Trucy appears on top of his table. She winks down at him, the spot light finding her.

Her red hat and cape and bag are all gone, replaced by pale blue versions. New, lovingly crafted, and Trucy puts her hands above her head in a pose.

“I am Trucy Gramarye, but your little witch in red is now a magician in blue. Sorry if I startled anybody by coming… out of the blue like that?” Trucy says. She smiles, twirls around, and in another puff of smoke she’s gone. The room goes dark.

The spotlight finds her back on the stage, still in the strange blue uniform.

“Wh-what- when did she-”

“You know, in Kurain, we have to make all our own clothes.” Maya says with a mischievous little smirk.

“You mean you-”

“She wanted to put together something to make sure you weren’t too sad today.” Maya explains, smiling.

Phoenix does his best not to cry so that he doesn’t miss any bit of the show.

When it’s done, Mr. Wunderbar brings over another chair and Trucy sits with them. Phoenix spends the evening surrounded by his friends, by his family, and staring at Trucy’s new outfit. Blue, just like his old suit, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” She asks, surprisingly shyly, right before bed. Phoenix grins, picks her up, and twirls her around.

“You look amazing sweetie. You know, you didn’t have to go through all that just for me.”

“I didn’t do it just for you.” Trucy defends, “I did it because I wanted to! And because I love you!”

“I love you too Truce.”

Tomorrow morning, reality will set in again. He’ll have work, and maybe all the grief he was able to put off today will make a forceful comeback, but tonight he knows he’s loved, and that Trucy wants to be a part of his world, wants to be a part of his broken little family, and maybe that’s all that really matters in the end.

[jostepherjoestar]

Hey ✨queen✨ I was wondering if it’s alright if I ask what would happen to La Squadra if the child member’s future self got sent to the past and their child self got sent to the future. Their future self who’s a teen is wearing grunge clothing and is kinda going through the ‘screw off im a teen who wants privacy to do my own things’ type attitude.

La Squadra kid/Pomo as a teenager 😤

sfw // Pomo/LS kid

note: i changed the idea anon, so sorry to do it. It felt like a more suitable course for Pomo’s story to adjust it, I do still hope you’ll enjoy it without the time travel!

Absolutely adore the idea of Pomo-rino being a grungy/goth teen!! They’d 100% have a septum piercing and denounce capitalism (as they should) and just be all broody. I do think that the relationships they’ve built with La Squadra have become so strong and close that even though they enjoy their privacy, Pomo would still know they could count on all of the guys 😊 enjoy!! 💖✨

As extravagant as the rest of La Squadra is, Pomo’s approach to life and fashion changed after turning 16. Before, they loved indulging in more experimental outfits, stranger styles and colours that seemed to make them fit among the rest of the lavish men. But now, after discovering the amazingness that is thrift-shopping and the angsty, introspective style of grunge and goth -that by the time Pomo reached age 17 had already come and gone out of style- there was no turning back.

Along with the style came the attitude: communication went a bit rougher and replies seemed shorter. Going out without letting anyone know when they’d be back or even with who they’d be going with. After some stern talks with a couple of eye rolls Pomo promised to text them whenever they went out.

Pomo had already finished their high-school diploma with little help and extremely high marks at age 14 so there was no need to even think about the highs and lows that came along with it anymore. That certain melancholy and emotional openness of the grunge and goth (music) genres brought Pomo some comfort; it felt a bit lonely, a former child assassin- now teen assassin- doesn’t make new friends that easily. Especially since that silent streak never quite left Pomo, preferring a quieter demeanour. They had become a little more vocal over time, offering the occasional opinion on serious work related matters.

God they were so well spoken too. A voice so soft- almost trained, letting out brilliant things like a calm stream manoeuvring a rocky valley, knowing just where to go and what places to avoid.

Being quiet had many upsides, most of them learned from Risotto who loved to spend time with Pomo, just observing the calamity that was their squad. That way no social queue was left unnoticed, navigating every situation with grace, often times coming to aid others in their reserved manner. Pomo will often bring warm drinks or snacks to their tired teammates who thoroughly appreciate the small gestures. Do not be fooled though, that dry wit also carried through with age. The comments often so unexpected which made them all the more hilarious, the squad is sure not to linger on sipping their drinks around Pomo. (lotsa spit takes lol)

Prosciutto and Ghiaccio have the most issues with Pomo’s new style and attitude. (they seemed more a bit more broody and open to talking back every once in a while) Zio Ghiaccio and papa Prosci especially hated the thrifting part! “Why would you buy worn clothes AND rip them even further? Pomo what’s the point?” Prosciutto just does not get it. Why pay any money for those strange clothes that smelled like mothballs?! “It’s not like like you don’t make enough money to buy clothes that aren’t ripped.” Ghiaccio prefers not to think about it too much, knowing just how much it riles him up. At some point he just has to let these damn teens be, no matter how much they annoy him with their “emo attitude”. These two will try anything, even gifting Pomo clothes they think would fit way better. Only for them to end up in a thrift-shop, Pomo likes being able to donate to the cycle of clothes, much to the two’s chagrin.

Formaggio and Risotto are WAY too lenient in letting Pomo do whatever they please. Attitude or not, they think it’s kind of funny to see them grow into such an open minded young adult with a headstrong attitude. Both are fans of experimenting with style and overall expression to find one that works in the end. The men both know Pomo well enough, they’ve already proved to be wise and capable of making well thought through decisions so they trust Pomo with this just as much. Although Risotto is not a fan of their choice in tight crop-tops. HAH! The irony! After some grumbling and Pomo assuring them that their jacket covers it up anyway, Risotto doesn’t have much ground to stand on (not that he ever had, the man’s tits are out at work). Formaggio truly couldn’t care less, showing a little skin never hurt him so why refuse them the expression? They look cool in those dark threads!

Who do you think drives Pomo to the thrift-shop? MELONE: eager father figure and fashion enabler! (with a cool motorcycle!!) He loves sticking it to the man just as much as Pomo right now. He’s really into the whole fashion aspect, picking out piles upon piles of possible pieces to try out. The thrift shop workers are less than pleased with the mess they leave but Pomo is sure to leave a sizeable donation after checking out! Melone is one of the few to voice their concern for Pomo’s change in behaviour. He just wants them to be alright and feel somewhat ok with their strange life, keeping in mind to frequently ask if they still want this lifestyle. Melone wouldn’t restrict them from doing more rebellious stuff, he’d just prefer to know what was going on so he doesn’t need to overthink or worry every time Pomo’s out.

Illuso LOVES encouraging ‘bad’ behaviour! Want to stay out past bedtime? Sure why not, come back by sun-up and just act like you woke up early to watch the sun rise. Snap back at Prosciutto or Risotto? Go for it, see what happens! Over the years he’s grown more fond of the kid but never really took up a big role in offering them any parental care. He cares of course, but just from a distance. Maybe he’s a bit intimidated by their smarts and those eyes that never really changed, still so intruding when they meet his, seeming to search his very soul. For once Illuso’s pride knows better than to get in Pomo’s way.

Pesci is so easy to convince to join the movement! He’s warmed up a lot more to Pomo, gone from thinking they’re some weird scary kid to an admirable and still somewhat scary teen. When Pomo starts becoming more goth/grungy he’ll be impressed with their style change, wondering if he should get a cool leather jacket too. Pomo still likes to prank him from time to time. Telling all sort of wild theories to impress Pesci and let him babble on about them to Prosciutto and the rest of the gang who already caught onto the whole charade. Strangely Pesci looks up to Pomo, admiring them for trying out new things and not being afraid to ruffle a few feathers in their team.