Though a bit delayed, we wanted to give a wonderful, hearty, ginormous THANK YOU to everybody who participated in succfest, who followed along, and who indulged us this weekend.
We hope you had as much fun as us. We'll be coming up with an easier directory post / master post in the next few days, but we just wanted to say thanks!
S3 was certainly a ride with the epic high and lows of corporate horridness and despite, whether your fave or ship won or lost, we will always have the fanworks to soothe us.
And that was the idea behind Succ fest, no matter what happened, we'd have the lovely fics created by the people in this community.
So thank you once again for taking part in this and see y'all again!
Though a bit delayed, we wanted to give a wonderful, hearty, ginormous THANK YOU to everybody who participated in succfest, who followed along, and who indulged us this weekend.
We hope you had as much fun as us. We'll be coming up with an easier directory post / master post in the next few days, but we just wanted to say thanks!
S3 was certainly a ride with the epic high and lows of corporate horridness and despite, whether your fave or ship won or lost, we will always have the fanworks to soothe us.
And that was the idea behind Succ fest, no matter what happened, we'd have the lovely fics created by the people in this community.
So thank you once again for taking part in this and see y'all again!
idk if i'm too late for @succfest, but here's my contribution to succ week and tribute to the wonderful season we just had! the show just keeps getting better and better! and as the series goes on, the family dynamics just get more complex and nuanced! to explore these relationships, i've chosen prompt 18: "family"
THE ROY FAMILY by peachypaddys (paddysrules on twitter)
king lear - william shakespeare / the baptism of christ - verrocchio and leonardo da vinci / pietĂĄ - michelangeo / macbeth - william shakespeare / the fall and explusion from garden of eden - michelangelo / hamlet - william shakespeare / kiss of judas - giotto / othello - william shakespeare
What a finale right?! This season has been a lot from Nero/Sporus, a tragic GerriRoman, to more lighter moments with Ken's kids (shoutout to Megathump Roy, the OG).
Today is the last day of succ fest! If you've got last minute thing you want to submit (especially after such a finale) now is the time! Take in this time to mull over the finale and create something, let it all out and just relax from the roller coaster of a season.
Make sure to use the tag #succ fest and tag us @succfest we look forward to whatever you have left to share! <3
mayhaps succfest is the time for my to drop a little snippet of my titanic au that will one day exist? or, once again, i am putting tom on a ship bc that man just needs to be on the sea, i can't explain it.
prompt 14: in another time, in another life @succfest ,my beloved
for those in peril on the sea
It is so strange, Tom thinks, glancing up at the night sky, that it is such a beautiful night and the world is ending around him. The flares in the sky are surely the Book of Revelation coming true, the great creaking and moaning of the ship are the Leviathan chewing through steel and iron, to come and swallow them all for their hubris, for daring to claim the ship unsinkable.
He is starting to shiver in his woollen coat and dress slacks. He hadnât prepared properly to be out this late at night, when he and Greg had been running around avoiding the staff and Loganâs minions, and though he keeps his hands jammed in his pockets, they do little to stop them from shaking. To stop his teeth from chattering in his skull.
It is, of course, women and children first. In the beginning, there were complaints, annoyed comments. No one wanted to be up this late, when they could be in their warm beds with cups of tea or wine, and not forced into lifeboats in the freezing late night air.
But now that the ship has started to tilt distinctly to the right, now that the water has all but taken over the lower floors, now that they all know the ship is sinking even though it is supposed to be unsinkable. For Christ's sake, it supposed to be unsinkable.
Tom secures Logan a place on this lifeboat. Rich men always get what they want.
âYou too,â he says. Tom thinks for half a moment that maybe Logan cares about him, but thatâs foolish. Logan never cared about him. He shakes the idea away to focus on whatâs at hand.
âNo sir,â Tom shakes his head. He clenches his fists to try and bring some life back into them. His nose and ears both sting, âI canât.â
He takes a moment and presses up against one of the walls. It is so loud up here and he has to resist the urge to cover his ears with his hands just to think, just to allow his mind a moment to process things. But he doesnât want to take them out of his pockets. And he knows itâs going to be worse down below but he has to go, because Greg will die if he stays down there, drowning or freezing to death or something and it will be all his fault.
The stars dare to twinkle, the moon dares to peek from behind the clouds and Tom feels like his heart is going to burst out of his ribcage. He draws a shaky breath, and makes himself stand up off the cold metal.
If all goes well, he will be able to get downstairs, down to Third Class, and collect Greg and then maybe figure something out. Put Greg on a lifeboat. Put them both on a lifeboat. Freeze to death when this ship sinks-- it heaves again, groans, and Tom nearly trips over his own two feet. Heâs got to move. Time is running out.
If all goes well, Tom will see the sky again, but he sends a last glance up to the stars, and hopes for the best, before racing down below.
In less than an hour, he will be staring at that inky black night sky, colder than he has ever been in his life, and clinging to a tiny sliver of hope that the lifeboats will come back, and the hand of the man who turned his life upside down.
Succ fest is in full swing as we countdown to tonight's finale episode and we want YOU to give us your art, your writing, your playlists, your EVERYTHING!
We love everything you've given us so far-- you guys are so talented!-- and if you're still thinking of putting something together now is the time! We can't wait to see what you'll do! đ
Make sure to tag us ( @succfest) and #succ fest so we can see it and share it!
Succ Fest Prompt #3: Hot Topic (Hot Topic Greg). When I see a prompt like this I am legally obligated to do it.
RIP his right arm, idk what happened to it. I had so much fun with his stoner tats though. If he'd had more arm space I'd also add like a flash UFO and a Rick & Morty one, cause he certainly watches that show. @succfest
oh no hi again i wrote something something tomgreg! it's short, it has no plot, etc. ao3 has a waiting list and i don't have an account (i think??) so dumpin' it here. for now. mfw when i post this before a season finale and have regrets...
@succfest prompt 10đ„ free square
description: pillow talk and unhealthy tension and flowery descriptions of sex stuff without anything really happening... that's kind of all that this is! sorry
warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, i haven't written in years i'm just possessed by these numbskulls
âAdmit it. Youâve always been afraid of me.â
âOh, yeah?â
âYes. A cowardly, nine-foot colossus, thatâs what you are. Thatâs why youâll always be under me.â
âTomââ Greg tried to warn him to stop right there. He did his best to sharpen his tone into one that had all the makings of an effective threat. âDonât.â
It must have come off as an attempt more than a firm warning. It must have, because Tom only chuckled at it. Warm gusts of soft laughter buried against his neck. Greg fixed his high ceiling with a troubled stare. A familiar mixture of irritation and excitement was now brewing deep in the pit of his stomach. What a concoction this man could whip up.
âAm I wrong? Speak up, now. Poor, innocent Gregory, the unfortunate, long-suffering sidekick of the Waystar Two. So unlucky in your fate, so stuck where you are, aren't you? You're fucking broadcasting it, man. Jesus.â
It was mean, but it only nicked and didn't bleed. That was Tomâ all teeth, weak bite. Somehow managing to nick himself in the process. Greg tried to imagine almost anyone else saying those words to him; the sting would kill.
It continued: âOh, do you like that?â
He made up for it by never letting up. A permanent facet of his personality, no concept of modulation. It was constant, the feathering graze of his sing-song lilt, the weight of his pinning presence. He had ample room to continue playing this one-sided game as Gregâs breathing sped up to sync with the taunt. He'd faltered mere moments after Tom opened his mouth.
âYou dirty little freak. No wonder.â
âTom, stop. Iâm serious.â
Firm. Even if by accident, he could not create a space where he allowed this. It was one step too far. No, he didnât like it. He had half a mind to tell him how much he did not like it. He should tell him exactly what he wasâ all hot air in the shape of a person, all talk, not any more able to reap respect than Greg was. A threadbare string of decaying vows versus veritable Roy blood. He could rub salt into that wound anytime he chose.
It didnât sting, per se, but it was dangerous. A little too close to home on both of their accounts. Greg lacked the courage to quit bending to his beckoning. He couldn't speak up. He was afraid. He couldn't tug at the root of Tom's vulnerabilities, nor could he attempt to boost any of his own strengths. It would never come out right, anyway.
It would fall out of his mouth like polyester stuffing and litter the room. Ineloquent and stupid. Tom would shred each bit into an even smaller bit. It would threaten them into an undoing. It could push them to extinction. No, honesty to that burning degree was not an option. Tom would have to push him near over the edge for Greg to go that far, although it seemed like he was always trying to do just that.
âMake me.â
Of course, another challenge. Greg sighed, the epitome of long-suffering.
A pinch at his side produced a humiliating sound next and an involuntary twitch. He smacked the heel of his palm against Tomâs shoulder in protest. Not enough, nothing but the dull thud of an unsatisfying slap. More laughter, the last straw, enough to spark a gust of movement. Greg shot past the boundary of ineffective slapping into forceful shoving. He toppled Tom over in the process, scrabbling to follow after and cage him in with both arms.
They froze. Each second ticked by slow now, slower still. He did his best to mine the hot-blooded source beneath himâ could he place a tap down? Suck up all that damned posturing? His lanky frame mimed an impression of an imposing structure through memory.
To his satisfaction, Tom shored up the decency to look surprisedâ impressed? It helped him resist the urge to curl into himself. It helped blot out any shadow of an apology.
âAtta boy.â
Tom sounded smaller, for once. There must have been other times where he was this small, snapshots distorted by the passage of time. He rode the earth like lava and Greg could never get a solid read on his direction or his temperature. Dark blue shadows hollowed out his countenance. Poised on the edge of a shiver, he let it bleed into and alter his voice instead. Greg felt as big as he actually was, for once, by closing in to nip at and swallow the end of that retort. A direct hit, snapping him shut. Smothering him. Silencing him. Making him full-body shiver; shaking that loose.
He imagined his mouth sewing invisible threads into Tomâs lips so that he could never speak again. How perfect would that be? Happily ever after.
Sick. They made each other sick, didnât they?
They folded into rhythm. A dam broke, carrying the muddy bits and the brittle shards of their tentative union to a point further down the line. It was enough; it cleared the way. Inevitable that all that debris would knock tight again, build up again, cause obstructions.
A problem for another time. Further down the line, always further down the line.
