vivatregis-blog

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     SEEING SO MUCH OF TOM is still bizarre in some ways; he had all but banished him for a reason, and Frank has worked so hard on his petty streak, doing his best to tread the line between quiet hostility and slightly louder acceptance. Tom has caught him on a good morning. It’s hard to be any other than plain when he’s cooking eggs sunny-side up.

         ‘Are you for brown or white bread, Tom?’

          CLAIRE had left early that morning. She’d kissed him and said she had something important to attend to but that he could stay. He’d been too tired to protest and fell back asleep. Now he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching Frank at the stove. It was … strange to see him so domestic, even still, even after this arrangement started. He wondered how kindly Frank would take his presence alone – especially in this setting. Tom tapped his fingers against his legs. “Thanks.” He moved toward the coffee maker; if Frank was going to cook, he might as well make something useful. 

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starter call !!

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“what do you think we should put up?” “i don’t know. something you like better.”

frank underwood likes edward meechum’s hands better than classical art pass it on

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@yxtes.

      THEY’RE NOT OFTEN CAUGHT without Claire as a mediator.       Not as though they spat – hardly – but she eases them into a       more comfortable quiet. There’s a sizzling from the stovetop.

           ‘You’re in time for eggs.’

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     THERE’S A DESK BETWEEN THEM. Frank has always appreciated the cool distance that the body of a desk can create. An ocean, a barrier. It lends itself to intimidation, too, sometimes. It’s a tool as much as anything in this office is a tool. His knuckles curl down against the mahogany and he lets the silence grow into an uncomfortable, touchable thing; lets it seethe and grow in the space after Tom’s confession.

      And then, quite finally, ‘I always knew you were a part of it.’

      But more from within than without. Frank habitually ignores the multitude of his mistakes as it suits him, but he sees them, too. He knows he made a long-running mistake, that Tom tapped into something ugly and weak. He decided to confide in his biographer, be close with his biographer, listen to his biographer’s heartbeat. He forgot that Claire was his confidante, a crime in itself. But principally he didn’t tell her. He let this thing become a secret. He told her every sordid and coy detail of the Zoe Barnes business, but not a thing about this.

      And admittedly, he more or less assumed that was the extent of Tom’s involvement in Claire’s leaving. Emotional affairs and revealing book chapters. There’s a bullet of hurt cracking at his sternum. I encouraged it. Was it a get-back, for Frank’s shutting him out? His tongue presses angrily at the underside of his molars, momentarily bitten between tight teeth as his jaw clenches. His eyes narrow.

     ‘Why?’

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        OBSESSION. ADDICTION. DESPERATION.      Tom knew his faults. He knew it was a bad idea to go to Kate. He KNEW she would reject the story, even though he had expected more from her. ( That was what he deserved for breaking his RULES, for having EXPECTATIONS in spite of their inevitable disappointment. ) He sat in his temporary apartment, the one he’d moved into when he’d come to do this story, and stared at the printed sheets in his shaking hands.                      He was FUCKED. He felt a resigned coolness when he’d spoken to Claire in the days afterward, having accepting his fate that this story would not get out. There was an increasing fear bubbling inside of him from the reprecussions of his sins, from writing the god forsaken chapter to encouraging Claire to – leave.      He’d had nothing left, but he was so desperate to learn MORE. He’d craved to be in the inner circle, to finally break down Frank’s walls – even when he had outright said he’d like to imagine what they were instead. ( He did that a lot; what a hypocrite. ) That was how he found himself standing before Underwood again, after Seth helped him get another audience with him after his dismissal. There was something OFF; he could feel it immediately upon entering the room. Tom licked his lips uncertainly, eyes locked upon the titan before him.                  A sigh. Might as well come out with it.  “I know she left you. I encouraged it.”

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anyways. not to be nasty but i hope frank f*cks someone on the resolute desk before he’s kicked out of the white house

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honestly nothin will ever piss me off more than killing meechum and having frank/tom be Nothing in such quick succession in hoc season 4. and however you spin it, when you put those things next to lucas being coerced into sex with another man, the whole season gets this hugely unpleasant, slightly homophobic tint, and i hate it, because i love this show

sorry, but i’d rather see doug stamper take a bullet for frank than an actually likeable character thts also bisexual. you know. instead of More Dead Gays

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Frank/Tom + parallels: 1x08 vs 3x10 

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all of frank’s emotional relationships matter to me so much. im so weak for frank ‘haha! i am nothing but a bag of evil!’ underwood, too sensitive to see his wife’s clothes in a wardrobe after she left him, sheerly unable to deal with the fact tom yates can really see him, getting drunk with old boyfriends in libraries until the sun comes up, lifting paintings off walls looking for the last of meechum he can have

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     HIS LAUGH IS BARELY A LAUGH AT ALL; it’s a noisy exhale, a caving of the chest, a pushing of the shoulders. But it’s still a laugh. ‘You could always say no.’ Is it too early for bandying about layered phrases – ? You could always say no could very well pass between them as You don’t have to be here and you are. And somewhere outside this room, standing or sitting, is Edward Meechum, the last loyal man. As much as Frank lets himself care about anyone he cares about Meechum, but he isn’t in here, right now, on the verge of having every limit tested. And between Yates and Meechum, the steadier bet is the latter. 

     But he isn’t in here.

     ‘You’re familiar with Doug Stamper and Zoe Barnes, I’ll assume. They made names for themselves, fortunately or unfortunately. And then tragically.’

       “You really enjoy getting me drunk, Mr. President.” It’s said in jest, though Tom could feel the effects of the alcohol. His mind was beginning to swim, wandering a bit away from their conversation. He held the glass nonchalantly, turning to his drinking partner. Brows rose in curiosity at the president’s question, but he shrugged. “Well, you were vice-president before to Walker, before that the majority whip in Congress, and before that – just a congressman from South Carolina.” Was this going to be twenty questions? He was CURIOUS to the point of this. What new information would Frank tell him?

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     ‘NOT OFF THE HOOK, of course. I always end up      with time for people like you, one way or another. I’ll      say kinks are about the least offensive accusation I’ve      heard lately, though.’

     ‘ — so you’re not letting me off the hook? Or, you are, but you’re not happy about it? Help me out here, Mr P.’

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     EYEBROWS RAISED, he pulls off the crust from      his half of the pbj triangle. ‘You think I’m wrong? I      keep expecting you to pull out a Francis every now      and then.’

Her eyes go between the sandwich, Frank, and her cuticles, with marginally more attention dispensed on the latter. She picks up her half and gives him a look. “I doubt that.”

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   i see my husband giancarlo esposito is back on my dash. 

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Do you want to choke me, Frank?

      ‘I HAVE NO IDEA what could have possibly       given you that impression.’

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