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NOOO!!! <3 <3 <3 *hugs you forever*

oh my gosh you are the sweetest. You definitely could write her, incredibly well. Okay? Okay.

#troublemakerjes #ask #ooc #cough senpai

troublemakerjes replied to your post:

// We still need to RP. If you want to, that is~

yeah yeah!!! i know i still owe you that starter, i'm just hella slow-- i owe a couple people some starters actually h ah ah.....

#im not even supposed to on misty rn but my personal got boring #plus hella number of drafts #sits in the trash im v sorry friendos #troublemakerjes #; reply #; airbubbles

AU | ~Our roots will always be tangled~

He'd recognised her the instant he laid eyes on her.

The moment she swooped down and stood between him and Jupiter, the entire time they'd been in a Galatic cell, the time they stood disguised as grunts by the door- every encounter, every second, he hadn't said a single word, and neither had she. Maybe he just looked so much older that she couldn't recognise him anymore. Maybe she'd tried to forget him and succeeded. Had it really been ten years? He hadn't had the courage to talk to her, to ask, to pick up where they left off- or at least try and start over. He'd made so many mistakes and he didn't know how to fix them.

He swooped down to pick a flower out of the grass as he walked down the forest trail, twirling it absently between his fingers as he watched the petals spin. Eventually, he found a giant log along the side and let himself slump down to sit on it, slowly picking at the petals and tearing them away. He couldn't help wonder...where could she be now?

"There are times when I don't know where I stand~ Oh, sometimes you make me feel like I'm a boy and not a man~ Oh, sometimes..."

#troublemakerjes #Aeon Agent #Roots!AU

|| / private RP / Jessie and Domino

[OOC: Posting it this way so it can be a talk thread. Don't worry about matching the post length unless you want to! I just made it long for the sake of introduction.] “I can’t believe this. This is beyond ridiculous!” Domino voiced her annoyance out loud. She rambled to the stale air, the putrid beige walls surrounding her, and the sounds of an old heating unit that buzzed on and off. Her medial nerves still throbbed from the double-lock handcuffs that subdued her as she was pushed into the police cruiser. The troopers insisted that her handcuffs be made as tight as possible, nearly cutting off circulation. She recalled the exchange: "You've been one naughty girl," a cop said as he twisted the handcuffs around her. "We have been chasing you for god knows how long." Normally, she would have been able to flee. It was not her first encounter with law enforcement – on the contrary, those pigs had been tracking her down for years, and every so often she found them circling her like a pack of mightyena on the hunt. Yet this time they used weapons, and even Domino – the Rocket known for her wit and athleticism – could not outfox them. Now in that cell block, Domino scanned her eyes across every inch, plotting for any way to escape. Damn it, she thought. I’m trapped. There were no windows to overlook the outside world. The only window was small and within the heavy metal door, its view into a hallway. The walls were constructed of concrete. She also noticed that there were no beds – instead, there was one filthy metal frame bolted to the floor in battleship gray. It appeared to have never been washed or sanitized, polluted with the sweat, spit and other bodily fluids of previous inmates. There were two blankets bundled up in the corner, and Domino knew they had never been washed. They reeked of body odor. Around her, the recycled air blasted between cold and hot – it was obvious that the heating system was in need of repair. Within five minutes the temperature ranged from 45 degrees to an overwhelming 95 or 100 degrees, allowing no time for her body to adjust. The constant change gave her a headache. The toilet was a durable utilitarian design that she had never seen before, its lackluster features on the same level as an outhouse. It was a dull box-like structure that made direct contact into the floor. Yet more disturbingly, the sink and water faucet were the same entity – nothing more than a button that when pressed came forth a stream – and it was built into the top of the toilet tank. To drink water thus meant that she would need to lean over the toilet. It was degrading. Yet perhaps most disturbing to the woman was the realization that she had no sense of time. The were no clocks, and the fluorescent lights burned the room in shades of blinding white (indeed, jail was not dark despite what television suggested). The absence of windows appeared to be a tool to psychologically break her down – if she was there for a long time, she would not know what month or season it had become. Domino had been denied her one phone call. Or perhaps she would receive that freedom in time, but the police wanted to drive her mad. But who cared? Who would she even call anyway? Her first instinct was to contact the Boss, but he would probably scream through the wires at her failure. To hear his disapproval would have perhaps been more daunting than no conversation at all. She curled her legs up against her body, sitting on a dirty floor with her head against the wall. She needed to think – she needed to calculate how to get to get out of there. A few minutes (hours?) later, Domino was alarmed by the sounds of another voice. It was clearly that of a woman, and the blonde traced through her memories in an attempt to connect the voice to the person. Then she realized who the voice belonged to. Oh… oh damn! The door opened, but the incident was too quick for Domino to bolt. A scarlet-haired woman was thrown into the cell, and before anything could be said, the door slammed shut. There was the loud click-click of the key turning over the lock. “Well, now my day officially sucks,” Domino huffed with sarcasm. “Pleasure to be here with you of all people, Jessie.”