#how were you not banking on shiv getting that one?
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I love Brennan being shocked at Siobhan translating elvish as if she hasn't translated Latin on this show without blinking. Come on, man.
#dimension 20#fantasy high#siobhan thompson#brennan be so real right now#who did you expect to answer that Q if not her?#they had to get 100% and they only had 2 passes!#how were you not banking on shiv getting that one?#also *I* know mellon is friend in elvish and I've never even read the books!#I have seem the movies though now bc of robin mostly#hi robin
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Turmoil; Chapter 8
Roman Roy x Reader
a/n: I need him biblically
let me know your thoughts x
Word Count: 3.289k
You got one lazy day. That was it before you had to throw yourself back into work. You and Roman both stand at your bathroom sink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You press a light kiss to his forehead, and surprisingly, he doesn’t run off after the fact. He winces, but he stays.
“Connor’s bank statements should be handed to you when you walk in today,” he murmurs.
“You’re a godsend.”
“I know, right?” He takes you by the chin and presses an obnoxiously sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Kendall and I are looking into that politician thing today. Maybe we can go out to dinner today?”
“You’d better show up today,” you warn. He playfully pinches your hip.
“I promise.” He moves away, pulling his shirt off and disappearing into the closet. “If I don’t, put a bullet through my head.”
You roll your eyes, smiling. “Rome?”
“Mm.”
“What’re you gonna do with that… thing with Marcia?”
“We wait until we can use it,” he calls back. “Thank god it’s on your phone and not mine.” You sigh. You both manage to get dressed and feed yourselves breakfast, and Roman hails you a cab and sees you off with a hesitant kiss to your lips.
You steel yourself as you stare up at the building containing your firm. You love your job- just not what you were doing with it now.
Before entering your office, you subtly slip a jewelry box onto your assistant’s desk. You’d gotten her a necklace and set of earrings while abroad as a thank-you for fighting Connor off with a stick. Roman was right, too. You give her the box and she slides you a manila file with a grin on her face, mouthing ‘thank you’.
You settle into your desk chair, leafing through the papers. It’s normal the first ten years, but starting another ten, his spending became erratic, and lo and behold, he stopped paying his taxes. You wonder how Connor has made it this far in life without getting killed by someone.
You can piece together the puzzle pretty easily. Connor thinks he’s too high and mighty to be taxed, he stopped paying them, the interest racked up an outrageous amount, and now he’s committing fraud to get money to pay everything off.
You take a moment to think.
If Logan bailed Connor out before, would he do it again?
You think you want to find out.
You could catch Logan with his pants down. You were closer to a solution to get him out of your- and Roman, and Kendall, and Shiv’s -life. You were lucky that he was the vote that would’ve won him the vote of no confidence- if he’d legally won, he would’ve dropped the guillotine on you and ousted the fact that you’d kept Connor innocent from fraud. Since he hadn’t, and he’d stayed, if he’d tried ruining your image, he’d look like a child throwing a tantrum.
Satisfied with your mental acrobatics, you toss the file into a lockable compartment of your desk. While you wanted nothing more than to serve Connor right that second, you knew taking him and Logan down at the same time would be much more satisfying. So you decide you’ll wait.
You make a small list on a post-it note of what you have so far. Kendall and Roman had begun to investigate Logan’s suspicious activity around the failed politician, Greg and Roman had gotten you the finances, you’d found more than one hard piece of evidence that Connor was lying on the suit. You also have the issue with Marcia, which you don’t really want to think about. Ever.
If you wait long enough, you think you’ll be able to find your way out of this mess.
Having gotten yourself into a good mood, you decide to pick up some pro-bono cases from junior associates in the bullpen to lighten their load. You spend the rest of your day doing paperwork, but you don’t mind.
You’re in your office for so long you eventually need to flick on your desk lamp. You’re not feeling as tired as you usually would at this point, and you’re thankful for it. When your phone rings, and you find Roman on the other end, you pick it up with a smile.
“Asshole. Why do you work so late?”
“Aw, I miss you too, Roman.” You jot something down in the margins of one of your documents. “Besides, it’s only dark out because it’s winter.”
“Are you almost done? I made a reservation for six.”
You glance over at your watch, sitting on the inside of your wrist. Five-thirty.
“Can you come get me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, we have stuff to talk about. Involving my big, happy, functional family.”
“We do,” you muse. “I thought this was a date.”
“It is, swear. I just have to tell you because I’m a good fiance.”
You laugh. “Whatever you say. Call when you’re here.”
“I’m already outside, bitch.”
“You’re so romantic.”
You clean up in your office, bid your assistant goodbye(even though you’d given her permission to leave ages ago), and find him parked in front of the complex.
“You drive? How many people have you hit?” you ask, climbing into the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting until you buckle your seat belt to pull away.
“Only two old ladies and their dog that looked like Kendall.”
You snort. “How was work?”
“Glorious. Felt like a superhero fucking shitting on my dad like that.”
“Go on.”
”We did some digging, found a few paper trails. I didn’t know the old man was stupid. Kendall thinks we’re on track to find people that have the ability to testimony.”
“If you even have an inkling that someone could, send them to me. Like immediately. We can’t have them blab to the wrong people. I can legally keep them safe from Logan if they disclose to the firm.”
“You’re the boss.” He honks at the car that missed the green light in front of you. “Fucking dick.”
“Of course you have road rage.”
“I don’t have road rage.”
You sit in comfortable silence the rest of the way, interrupted by the occasional expletive from Roman at bad drivers. He’s surprisingly level-headed behind the wheel, keeping calm regardless of the ‘idiots around him’.
At the restaurant, you take the inside of his elbow as you walk. He flexes his arm, trying to suppress a grin, setting his hand on his stomach. You can tell, despite his slowly dissipating disdain for your physical affection towards him, he fucking loved showing you off in public.
He’d warm up to you eventually. You didn’t want to force him into anything you didn’t want, so most of the time, you let him initiate physical contact. And even though neither of you ever spoke about it, you got the feeling that he appreciated it immensely.
You both sit in a secluded corner of the restaurant, and his legs press up against yours from his seat across from you.
“You should tell me more about yourself,” you begin, setting your head in your hands, balancing your elbows on the table.
“What is there to say?” Roman mirrors your pose.
“I dunno. What’s your favorite color, Romulus?”
“Green. The color of money. Next.”
“Oh, that’s so bullshit.” You lean back, laughing. He pushes off his elbows, instead crossing his arms over his chest. “Your favorite show?”
“I don’t watch television, Miss Attorney-at-Law. Eat, sleep, corporate fucking, repeat.”
“That’s kind of vile.” You take a sip of the water at your hand. “We should watch garbage reality TV together. You’d enjoy it.”
“Why watch on a screen when it’s my real life?”
“You boring piece of shit.”
Roman takes your hand from across the table, hooking your fingers together. “That I am.”
“What about movies? Or are you allergic to rainbows, fun, and joy?”
“Oh no, my throat’s itching,” he says sarcastically, pouting. “I don’t have time for any of that. And when I do, it feels… weird. I never was into movies or TV shows or video games when I was younger. I was always on eggshells with Dad, so…”
You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “So… we can do all of that stuff together after we give ourselves a week off of work.”
“We just got back from Norway…”
“Roman. You’re really saying you’re not going to give yourself a week off for shits and gigs?”
He has trouble pushing down his smile. “Of course I will. You know me so well already.”
“We should do it after we serve your dad the papers. So he has to wait even longer to go to court.”
“Oh, Y/N, you’re evil. So perfect for me.”
You both laugh.
You both begin your meals, Roman surprisingly attentive the entire time. You both ask questions, answer them, and giggle like schoolchildren.
By the end of it, his chair is pulled all the way around the table, sitting next to yours as he tries to explain a business venture.
“So if pervs won’t disappear completely,” he says, gesturing with his hands, dead serious, “we appeal to the ones who like feet. Because who’s going to fucking know they’re your feet if they one, haven’t bought them, and two, inspect your toes in real life?”
You can’t help the ugly laugh that rips from your stomach. “Why have you thought about this in so much depth?”
“It’s infallible.”
”I didn’t know you knew what that word meant.”
He taps the side of his temple. “I’m learning. From you, specifically. Kendall’s fucking dumb.”
Back at home, Roman’s reclined into you, his head set lopsidedly on your shoulder. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, glancing up at you every so often, as if making sure you’re still there. You catch his eyes, and you both smile at each other.
Without thinking, you give him a peck on the lips. He lets you.
“It was hard,” he says quietly. “But it’s getting easier.”
“And so goes life.” You let your head rest on top of his. “I think you’re doing great.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Thanks.”
He hums, satisfied, when your nails begin raking through his hair. You stay like that, for a long while. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing regulating as time passes. You think he’s asleep when his phone rings, loud and obnoxious.
“I’m going to fuckin’ kill whoever’s calling,” he mutters, shifting so that his head is in your lap. You see Connor’s name. “I’m putting him on speaker.”
He does, and starts the conversation with, “What is it, asshole?”
“Hey, Rome. I know it’s a little late, but your fiance hasn’t been returning my calls. Or texts.”
“She thinks you’re ugly. Not interested. Stop trying.”
“Roman.”
“Just being honest.”
“Well, be serious. We need to hurry things along. I’m starting to go into the red.”
“What the fuck are you buying? Oh, wait, your gir-”
“Shut the fuck up. That douchebag of an accountant. He’s doing some shady shit, I know it.”
“Or, shocker, you need to stop spending money. Batshit crazy idea, man.”
“You’re giving me financial advice? Remember when you spend twenty grand on a watch in high school and then lost it the day of?”
“At least I had the twenty thousand to spend.”
You have to suppress a laugh.
“This isn’t what I called for. Just forward the word, okay? I don’t want Willa to have to miss anything important at the theater.”
”What’s that have to do with my girl?”
“She can speed up proceedings.”
Roman looks up at you, and you shrug. You could, but you definitely wouldn’t. Not for Connor. “Yeah, come back later.”
“Nice talking to you, too.”
☾𖤓
The next time you’re at Waystar, it’s a ‘family’ meeting in Kendall’s office. You sit on the couch, Shiv sunken into the seat next to you.
“I say you take that nasty-ass video straight to Marcia and get the good shit from her,” Shiv says. “No beating around the bush. Surely she’ll spill.”
“You’re certainly free to do that. I can’t keep it on my phone anymore- I’m prone to vomiting,” you respond.
“Anyone know about that prick from the party? The one balding in all the weird spots?” Roman asks, leaning against the wall.
“What, Peirce? That’s the dick that was sucking the life out of Dad’s bank account. He was taking money pretending to be paying taxes.”
You turn and glance at Roman. “He’s actually not that stupid, is he?” you ask incredulously.
“I feel like we’re saying that a lot,” he mutters back. “You know that that guy is Con’s accountant now? And he has literally no money left?”
“He’s never been the brightest,” Shiv says without hesitation. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“How can he miss that, though?” Kendall asks, dragging a hand over his face.
“Desperate times,” Roman supplies.
“His firm name’s Thompson & Thompson, right?” you ask.
“Fucking banger name,” Shiv says. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“They have a consultation with me tomorrow. I don’t think it’s anything good, given Connor’s recent history.”
“Lock them out,” is all Roman says.
“This is all such a headache,” Kendall mutters. “Has anyone heard from Dad recently?”
“Surprisingly, no. He’s been suspiciously quiet,” Shiv replies. “You think he’s in the hospital again?"
“Wouldn’t he say something?” you ask.
“I guess not,” Shiv says. “Makes him look weak. Someone will notice, anyway. We’re in the States, we’ll know where he is soon enough.”
“He’s scheming,” Kendall states. “He’s trying to find a loophole back into the company.”
“He wishes,” you retort. “Vote of no confidence. Can’t come back on without making a big deal about it.”
“What if he wants that? He could use it to distract us,” Shiv suggests.
“But from what?” Kendall asks, staring at his feet, boring a hole through the floor.
“You’re overthinking it,” Roman clarifies. “What does he have that he can do right now?”
“God, I don’t even want to know.” You push yourself to your feet. “I’d better head out.”
Kendall grunts a goodbye, Shiv gives you a hug. Roman walks you, and as soon as you turn the corner and nobody’s around, he takes your hand in his.
“Is this what having a crush feels like?” he asks as you wait for the elevator.
“What do you mean?”
“I never stop thinking about you. I get all giddy talking to you- just looking at you. I’m always trying to make you laugh, smile. And look at your fucking face. I don’t need to keep telling you how fucking pretty you are.”
“Hm, maybe you do,” you say, grinning.
“But really.” He lets go of your hand in the elevator, instead winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Is this how normal people feel? All… sappy and shit?”
“I guess. I don’t think I can be considered normal, either.”
“Why not?”
“I’m into you, aren’t I?”
“Asshole. I take back what I said. You’re repulsive,” he says, lips on your jaw. When you’re in the lobby, he tells you, “Call me when you’re done,” and leaves you with a squeeze of your shoulder.
At your firm, you give your assistant a wave, gather some files, and head to a conference room. Peirce is there, waiting for you.
“Mr. Thompson,” you say politely, ignoring his outstretched hand. You wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. “Please tell me tax fraud isn’t why you asked to see me and refused to disclose why over the phone.” You both take your seats.
“I’m afraid it is. Rather, not that I committed it, because I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He takes his handkerchief and wipes away a bit of sweat from his chin. He’s a horrible liar. “Rather, some accusations that are being made. I was wondering if anything could be done. And since you’re already handling my client…”
You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “If you can prove it, we can sue for defamation. That’s really it.”
Peirce straightens. “I can prove it, actually. Tax returns, receipts.”
While you don’t take cases you don’t want to(Peirce makes you want to vomit), you know that this could lead to something useful. So you tell him, “Have them faxed by tomorrow,” and he’s on his feet, thanking you profusely as you push past him.
To your surprise, however, he follows you to your office. “Can I help you?” you ask, miffed.
“I just, ah, thought that since I was here, I’d check on how my client’s suit was going.”
“It’s going,” is all you say back. “Last time I checked, I’m the J.D. between the two of us. I can handle my business like a big girl, while it disappoints me to say that you can’t do the same.” You gesture in the direction of the exit. “If you would.”
“Are you sure I can’t just-”
“Quite sure.”
“But-”
“But nothing. Take no for an answer and go before I have you removed.”
Dismayed, Peirce shuffles off.
“And tell Connor to get off my fucking ass,” you say under your breath, heading into your office. You drop your notepad, pickingup your cell and dialing Roman.
He picks up on the first ring. “What’d the weasel do?”
“Was creepy. He said he’s being accused of tax fraud and that he can prove it.”
He scoffs. “He’s going to send you a ‘get out of jail free’ card from a Monopoly game. Does he really expect anybody to buy it?”
“If he’s still in business, people have before.”
He sighs on the other end. “Come home.”
“I have some paperwork to do. Then I’ll hail a cab or something.”
“Boo fucking hoo. I want to see you.”
“You saw me an hour ago.”
“I want to see you again.” Roman pauses. “Pretty please?”
“You can wait another hour. I believe in you.”
“Aw, come on. I’m warming up to you and everything.”
You laugh. “I appreciate that, Rome,” you say sincerely. “But-”
“I’ll do your laundry for a month if you just bring the paperwork home.”
You take a moment to consider it. “You know how to work a laundry machine?”
“I’m going to murder you. Come home so I can stab you.”
☾𖤓
The minute you’re home, he pulls you into bed with him and curls up against you.
“You okay?” you murmur.
“Peachy,” he says into your shoulder. “Shiv talked to Marcia. It worked.”
“At least that bullshit was worth something.” You shudder. “Why are you going to bed so early?” He’s dressed entirely in pajamas, his shirt a soft cotton that clings to every muscle in just the right way.
“Early day. Stockholder drama.”
“I thought Kendall did that.”
“He does. I’m going because I know they’re going to fight.” You feel him smile into your skin. “Hey, Y/N?”
“Mm?”
“Never mind. I’m not so good with words.”
Roman’s hand finds your chin, bringing your mouth to his. When your lips meet, his hand slips up your jaw and buries in your hair. You kiss back fervently, and he matches your vigor. He kisses you like he needs your taste to breathe.
Your hand finds the fabric of his shirt and glides across the panels of his chest, and he groans into your mouth. You feel the soft, oddly satisfying scrape of his stubble against your face. He pulls away only to dot kisses on the corners of your mouth, then unevenly again on your lips.
“I think what I meant was good night,” he says cheekily.
“Jackass,” you murmur giddily into his lips. “Fuck you, Roman.”
#succession x reader#succession#roman roy x you#roman roy x reader#roman roy fic#roman roy#succession fanfiction#succession hbo#succession hbo fic#wambsgansshoelaces#turmoil#succession fic
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This is a Succession essay. I genuinely think that most characters in television and films tend to be autistic/autistic coded, and I think this is by complete and total accident
Trying to make a character weird, or giving them issues picking up social cues, or what have you, say, extremely strong interests, it often speaks to autistic people and our experiences in a variety of ways
Kendall Roy is a big one for me, he stims in his car (episode one, rapping and hitting the chair in front of him in the car before his big day?), he's so genuine and cannot tell when everyone around him is making fun of him (L to the OG, singing a rap song he made up about his dad?), he gets emotionally and physically overwhelmed (too much birthday?), he has issues expressing his emotions and picking up social cues (his phone call with the bank, telling Polk to fuck off, where he tries to emulate his father and fails?)
There's this poignant scene where Kendall is calming down in the same way his clearly autistic son does. Both of them are overwhelmed by the family dinner, so they sit outside and play with Legos together, an act Rava, his ex wife, does not engage in. It's parallel play, they're sitting together and calming themselves down side by side, not necessarily playing together. This is very common amongst autistic people.
And Kendall, like many autistic people, wants to emulate those around him socially, so he can be liked the way he thinks his father is. Kendall often incorrectly assumes that if he mimics all those around him, copies their social skills, pretends like he fits in, people will finally see him the way he sees himself. And Kendall really is a good person. At least he tries to be, having that much wealth and power is always going to make you a bad person, especially when you don't take the steps to deconstruct these power structures. But Kendall wants to be a good person. He wants to do the right thing. He tries hard to be the involved father, the perfect son, the kind boss, the fantastic husband, the good friend, the caring brother, the greatest business man, he wants to be the most loved, the most loving, the person everyone likes and who fits in. But he can't navigate it quite right. He's understanding of how to grow Waystar Royco into a business that's successful in the internet age is actually quite spot on. His desire to create what he views as an inclusive environment, a respectful one, is genuine.
But Kendall cannot fit in no matter how hard he tries. And I don't think it's just because of his wealth, though it plays a factor. His siblings, in particular Shiv and Roman, especially Shiv, are considerably better socially. They, like many neurotypicals, can become social chameleons, changing how they interact and act to fit in with whatever crowd they're in. They're out of touch due to their wealth, certainly, but there's a difference. They socialize well in the wealthy circles they grew up in, they transfer these skills to other social circles, they socialize so well they can advance their career. Noticeably, they lie well, they can pick up on when most everyone is lying to them, they can navigate all of their respective spheres well.
Kendall cannot do these things really, when he tries he always falls flat. Even in out of touch, wealthy circles, he really cannot fit in. His inability to be the person he wants everyone to see him as is two fold. His wealth and abusive childhood is one dimension of it, he doesn't have good footing for where to start, so when he genuinely tries he falls flat on his face. But he's autistic, compounding these issues. It makes it much harder for him to actually understand what to do, how to do it, and his only guides through his life were wealthy people constantly working to undermine him, to cut him down. Shiv and Roman, not so much. They know what is the "right thing" and what is socially seem as the right things to do, and they can adapt their presentation to match that. Shiv knows it's socially acceptable to be a democrat, and so she is, though she isn't one. Kendall cannot, and though he tries to do the right things, and he tries to do them because he sees them as the right things, he cannot conceptualize a life other than his own, cannot fit in, and with no other guide but his father, cannot be the person he truly wants to be.
His attempts are genuine. He tries very hard to be an excellent father. He loves his children. He is by no means good at it. But he wants to be. And he makes greater strides than his father ever did, and in many ways for him this is a great effort. He is pained by how no one seems to like him, no matter what he does. There's this scene in the first season, where he looks at the falling stock price and tells his brother, "this is how much no one likes me." In season three, he tries to get people to like him by being self aware about how much they hate him, tries to let himself be made a mockery, because then maybe they'll want him. But he doesn't understand why they do. And it becomes a form of self harm, like maybe if he lets them hate him to his face, he'll understand why they do emotionally. Sometimes he understands objectively, but really he doesn't. And he self medicates to make it easier.
Kendall noticeably does drugs the most when he is struggling to fit in socially. Before therapy with his family, because he wants to fit in with the group of people he's with, wants to fit in back home. Also a very common autistic experience. It seemingly makes him likeable, makes him comfortable, lowers his inhibitions so that maybe he'll fit in, and maybe he'll get over his fears.
Kendall's struggles as an autistic person become Shakespearean in height due to the wealth and station of his life. It makes you wonder if one moment of his life were to have been changed. Say he doesn't get into the accident with the waiter, he'll escape the grasp of his father, and probably he'll have the means he always wanted to create the meaningful change he longs for. He stays committed to outing his father's negligence on the cruises. Something different, something new. Hell, even just a diagnosis, and I'd bet Kendall's life looks utterly different. It allows him, at the very least, a modicum of comfort and understanding of his life. Best case scenario, Kendall has the tools to navigate the world, and as such, can become the very good person he feels he ought to be.
Kendall Roy has autism. And autism is not tragic, but him having it in a world so hostile to him, without the knowledge of his autism, is.
#succession#kendall#kendall roy#logan roy#shiv roy#roman roy#autism#autistic adult#actually autistic#hbo max
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I'm gonna need to know something about or read some of what you have for That A Whole Margarita of a Man cause it sounds very, very appealing
I am so hyped for every last one of your stories so a little sneak peek at any of them would be magnificent !!
It's one of the newest on the list - and one of the few I don't actually have long-form prose (i.e. readable draft content that isn't my story beat steno) for yet. So, I'll tell you a bit about what it is about.
The whole thing arose from me mildly complaining to @tiredemomama about how long it'd been since doing body shots. Aaand we started spitballing about Croc and Shivs doing them? And then a few days later, having let the itch stew a little, I really went to plotting town with @feral-artistry regarding what that would all entail. But the crux of the matter is: it exists because I wanted an excuse to write about them downing body shots off of each other. That's it. That's the plot.
The title is courtesy of @feral-artistry, because as they said:
"That's a lot of ground to cover for a body shot. That's a whole margarita of a man."
I liked it a lot.
A logistic issue, too. Shivs would get drunk so much faster, simply by being lighter weight & downing a larger volume? So we have to just pour a whole bottle of the good whiskey down my girl at some point. To keep things fair. Obviously. No other reasons.
It's set around the same time as 'The House Always Wins' and 'On The First Day of Christmas', i.e. about a near decade before the canon, at Rain Dinners, in Rainbase, Alabaste, when Crocodile and Shivs were a combined force to reckon with.
She's dealing at the high limits lounge, as she did more often at that time, having made the unused table 13 in that pit an absolute hit. Despite the high bet and pot limits, those limits still exist. And the story starts with the fact that they manage to reach it. Shivs jokingly suggests that, instead of breaking the house rules, she can throw in a few body shots.
Croc is good at poker, and he likes it, but he's not necessarily intense about winning - he's not fragile about thát. However. The minute those words leave her mouth? He gets intense about winning. Not because he necessarily wants it. I mean, if he wanted it, he could just suggest it. She'd be down? No need to bank roll a whole table for it. The reason - of course - is that he doesn't want anyone else to gdamn win.
So naturally, the plot demands that he doesn't win.
Zip forward to whomever is unlucky enough to win (with a real chance of winding up both very rich and very dead) finding out that, actually, she meant her taking body shots off of them. Not the other way around. The funny part is that Shivs expected Croc to win too. This was her nefarious plan all along! Her plans are so amazing...
Anyway, now she's stuck doing this with someone else, and unfortunately, not all poker players are as hot as they are smooth? Croc is still mildly upset, but amused in that irritating way of his at her playing herself. After that, this happening leads to bar hanging banter, and body shots in all kinds of increasingly creative ways (I am having a lot of fun with it), and when Croc makes that horny reptile noise down the line, everyone else's flight response kicks in.
Time to clear the house.
The bartenders are drawing straws who has to stay behind, because if they make Croc get his own bottle, all of them are going to suffer. Someone's gotta take one for the team.
It goes all kinds of south from there.
I haven't quite figured out the ending
Thanks for the W.I.P. Round Up ask! This is a ton of fun. I love talking about my content.
#thanks for the ask!#have some plot#talking about writing#instead of writing#crocaine#buggy thoughts#imperial fiction#sir crocodile#short straw shives#one piece crocodile#shivs#croc x shivs#one piece fanfiction#one piece oc#one piece original character#canon x oc#crocodile x oc
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prompt: rule 63 tomgreg?
Greg watches Tommy bully around the designer, or owner, or whatever he is, with a dubious slant to her mouth. She had sort of awkwardly mumbled a question to Shiv about Kendall’s birthday – what should I wear? – not expecting a lot, maybe to be coldly told not to try too hard, after everything else she’s paid for in the appearances sense, recently, but… instead, Shiv had called Tommy, for sure just because she’s tall, who Greg hasn’t really been alone with a lot in any capacity.
She’s been around her, for sure – Tommy is around in general. She had sort of been from the beginning when Logan died, because she is some… quote unquote friend of Shiv’s, and had sort of been when Kendall accepted money for a bad bank thing, because she also works as some corporate mercenary for Stewy Hosseini, and is sometimes around at like galas and parties, but other than that…
Like. Mostly, the first impression hadn’t been… It was a bit divisive, one might say, if they were Greg.
Tommy had made a joke that had seemed like pretty badly off-color, involving kissing and kinky boots, something like that, which had made Greg feel seen through and about half a meter tall, but… by the third time they saw each other, she realized that Tommy had no idea what she had said to her and probably didn't to anyone a lot of the time. It didn't exactly excuse it, but how she wasn’t pointedly nasty, really, not in that way sort of did; she always wandered over whenever they were at the same place to try to get Greg involved in whatever her cousins had dragged them both into, or to just gossip with her, or now she’s started to jokingly, like probably, ask Greg if she’s tired of being the assistant to Kendall’s assistant yet.
Greg hasn’t ever asked about what Tommy might’ve really meant that first misunderstood conversation; she has somewhat put it down between Tommy just being generally cringy, most likely, or honestly hitting on her in the worst way, because it is kind of like what she wants to imagine, nowadays? Tommy is like a real life mythical Amazon – really pretty, and really big, and really touchy, so Greg is like really comfortable in making it not really her own fault and just like a natural progression. She can even point to Shiv as a fellow victim of the influence.
She mostly has been able to keep that packed in behind her imagination, before now; she hasn’t even seen Tommy in a while, not in the social sense, and not counting since Stewy brought her with Sandi Furness to sneer at the shareholder meeting and they’d barely been in the same room.
“Are you like, um…” Greg says, lifting her hand and sweeping a piece of loose hair from her braid back behind her ear. “Going with Shiv… to Kendall’s thing?”
“If I were, it would be in a purely platonic capacity,” Tommy says, yanking a shirt off of a rack with a narrow look and a shake out of non-existent wrinkles. “I don’t out people.”
Greg wets her lips with a bob of her head.
“But also actually very platonic,” Tommy says, voice flattening, reaching out and considering a dress, low cut and strappy, so hopefully not something she’s actually thinking to put on Greg. “I believe she is in some throuple situation with that… reincarnated spirit of a used car salesman, Sofrelli.”
Greg lifts a hand and lightly scratches at her upper lip with her thumb. “That’s sort of outing her.”
Tommy rolls her eyes over her shoulder, mouth flattening, “You don’t know who the third is.”
“Probably his wife,” Greg says, raising her brows with a slight tilt to her head. “Yeah?”
Tommy doesn’t answer beyond looking back down with a couple of low tuts.
Greg steps a little closer, as she takes off her jacket and folds it over her arm. She reaches out and touches at one of the shinier dresses, feeling it give cool against her fingers, and wonders if she could be a woman who wears silver silk, glimmering under club lights, or if… she should stick to a neutral. Or a pattern? She does enjoy a good pattern, but there aren’t any she can see in the selection.
“They look great, by the way,” Tommy says, voice thinning and pitching, while drawing out another dress and gesturing for the stylist to bring out the next rack with a wag of it. “In case anyone hasn’t said.”
Greg blinks wide, brow knitting above her eyes. “Um, what?”
“Your tits, to be a totally crass fuck,” Tommy says, turning and framing her own bosom with a pair of lifted palms, then pointing at Greg’s chest. “I assume two of the reasons you asked Shiv about designer dresses for this shindig, rather than your usual modest schoolteacher getup?”
“Oh… oh,” Greg intones, only barely managing to ignore an urge to look down, as heat flares across her cheeks; no, no one really has said so, and seem mostly to pretend nothing changed. She’s part of the problem, though – it’s been months, but she’s still not quite used to them being much more than just impression and a good bra. “Yeah, uh… Thanks. Roman was, um – was the only one who really like addressed it? He said I should’ve done more of a porn star thing.”
Tommy makes a pinched face, shaking her head with a suck at her teeth. “That is... actually really unsurprising.”
“I’m really happy with, like… what I chose, though,” Greg says, swallowing thickly and trying not to let herself feel too affirmed… by Tommy, of all people. It had just been something she had agonized back and forth on for as long as she can remember; if it was worth doing at all, or just stick with what she had, while imagining what would look right – what would look great.
She rubs her palms together, then shoves them under her arms, trying to instead distract herself with the dresses that Tommy’s got piling on the bench. It’s a lot more color than the prior racks – she kind of actually really likes the darker orange. And the green. She probably shouldn’t try both at once, or like she might just look like a… a pumpkin, or something.
“Less back problems, trust me,” Tommy says, belatedly around a cough. A hand lifts to cup against her chin, as she rounds a rack of markedly fancier dresses with a tilted head. “How short are you willing to go with your skirt?”
“Uh,” Greg says, dragging her teeth along her lower lip with another glance down at herself. “I don’t usually go very – ”
“Like an Old Believer, I know,” Tommy says, eyes rolling, as she looks up with a quirk of a brow. “I’ve seen. It’s very cute, very flowy, but are you attached to that?”
“Kind of?” Greg says, rubbing at the back of her neck with a slight hunch.
“Oh, fine,” Tommy says, throwing her hands up, then out, sweeping her palms away from each other. “And up top, then – low cut, allowed, but is the public permitted to see your shoulders?”
“I guess… if it’s lacy, or something,” Greg says, drawing her hand back to rub now at one of her button-up-covered shoulders. “Maybe?”
Tommy claps her hands onto her hips. “Stu!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stu says, stepping forward from just near the door.
“How long would it take to tailor a six and a half foot wedding dress for Miss Hirsch?”
Greg makes a noise of protest. “A wedding – ?”
Tommy rounds on Greg with those open arms. “That is what you just described!”
“Is it – um?” Greg says, rolling her lips together, then tilting her head with a weak shrug. “Not if it’s a color? I like that orange.”
“Oh, she likes that orange,” Tommy repeats in a taunt, reaching out and picking the dress up with a tut. She looks at Greg, then down at the dress, shaking it out to hold up to her front; she seems to notice it is lacking other qualifications, but her brow furrows in thought. “It does suit you…” She looks toward Stu, shooing him, “Get us everything close to this color.”
~
Greg lingers at the entrance of the venue, checking her phone, and looks up at familiar voices to see Shiv and Roman, then more importantly Tommy, who’s peering dubiously up at the pink tunnel that touches her head. She’s in the navy mermaid dress that Greg had seen her put aside a week ago, but hadn’t given any hint how it would make her look so comely, and her short hair neatly swept close to the side of her head with an elaborate pin. Greg is vaguely aware of some comment from Roman to the nurse-hostess, but barely hears it, instead focusing on the way Tommy immediately marches toward her when they make eye contact.
“Holy moly, look at those eyes,” Tommy greets, peering up at Greg over one of the hospital bassinets, then rounding it with her hands drifting up in a way that is probably not supposed to be sort of threatening. “Who did your makeup?”
Greg feels heat crawl up to her ears. “I-I did?”
“You did?” Tommy says, eyes glancing twice more across Greg’s face with a different sort of assessment. She reaches out further, clapping her hands on Greg’s biceps. “You look like an autumn princess – take my arm, tonight I am your winter knight.”
“You look really nice, too,” Greg says, hesitantly grabbing at Tommy’s elbow, slipping her fingers around the offered crook; her arms are bare, skin soft and warm.
“Thank you, girlie, I couldn’t let you show me up,” Tommy says, as she gestures down at her dress with a sweep of her other hand and a sidelong wink. “I like that it looks like a stripper version of a power suit – I mean, look at my girls, they look perky as they did in college! You would almost think I’ve got a rack better than Shiv’s.”
Greg slowly furrows her brow, taking advantage of the permission to look down and admire. “You like do?”
Tommy looks shocked for a beat, making Greg hurriedly look away, but then bursts into a huffy snort. “Thank you for that ego boost, but methinks you don’t notice because she’s your cousin.”
Greg offers a shrug, but she doubts it.
Tommy leans into Greg’s arm, fingers sweeping up against her curved knuckles, as they walk deeper into the party. “I didn’t know you knew how to do more makeup than that faux au naturale you always have on.”
“I, uh – I used to practice a lot,” Greg admits, hearing her voice briefly weaken, looking down at the shiny floor passing under their feet. “Like, when I was younger. It was easy to take off, you know, an-and my mom never noticed.”
“Ah, and now you’re an expert,” Tom says, patting at her fingers, leaning briefly even heavier into her side with a pitchy bark. “I’m terrible with it; I always go to a professional for these things.”
Greg glances over, sweeping her eyes from Tom’s vague smoky eye to barely-lined lips. “You do?”
“I used to,” Tommy says, brightly, winking with a taunting sort of smile. “Now I know I can make you do – ” She comes to an abrupt stop, gawking through an open doorway on the other side of Greg. “Oh, Jesus… Is that a fucking crib?”
Greg looks over her shoulder in the same direction. The room is… set up like a nursery, but if it had inside a crib that was… bigger than adult size, even bigger than like Greg-adult size, with a bottle and stuffed animals to match. “Uh, um… y-yeah?”
“You’re related to this man,” Tommy says, flattening her voice into a stern, quiet seriousness, as if this is now an interview for like maybe Dateline. “How does that make you feel, Ms Hirsch?”
“Like, um…” Greg takes a breath. “He isn’t over the death of his father?”
Tommy is silent a beat, then sucks at her teeth. “That is way too far down the rabbit hole for me. You were supposed to say he’s too bizarre to function.”
“He’s always been nice to me.”
Tommy scoffs against the back of her throat. “I’m not sure that’s a good metric.”
Greg offers a thin hum, looking over to Tommy, who is arguably in the same category of a bit weird, for sure, but generally good. “It’s been okay, so far?”
“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, rolling her eyes, but somewhat abashed about it, so likely catching onto the implication. “Let’s try to find the exit to this Freudian nightmare and find a drink… that I hope isn’t dressed up in fucking juice boxes and milk cartons.”
Greg wonders if Tommy missed the swaddled champagne bottles at the entrance.
It takes far too long for Greg, between mocking Kendall’s choices and picking up party favors, to realize that Tommy is sort of acting like this is a date; she thinks, anyway, she hasn’t been on a date in a really long time, but it feels like it. She swallows her nerves and risks a grab for Tommy’s hand, at her next chance, as they turn a bend within the aptly named compliment tunnel. The whole setup visibly puts Tommy on edge, looking at every cheerful deliverer of a compliment through the decorated trestles with sneering suspicion, but Greg sort of likes getting told that she’s great – even if it’s just a weird party game.
Tommy doesn’t shake her hand off, though, which is even better. She actually tightens her grip, shifting her fingers to thread them through Greg’s clammy ones, as they slowly approach a roar and thump of music at the center of the party. She does let her go, as they pick up drinks at a bar along the length of the wall, head bobbing to the beat of the music, but she heavily leans into Greg’s side.
“Do you dance, Greg?” Tommy asks, her drink half gone, looking over with a slight cock of her chin.
Greg feels her expression twist and fold, glancing away from the bar toward the dance floor. “Not, like… really?”
“Too bad!” Tommy crows, as she puts her drink down, then reaches out with the same hand to wrap tight around Greg’s wrist in a tug. “Just think: you can’t embarrass yourself more tonight than the birthday boy.”
Greg bites at her lip and manages a weak shrug, as she’s yanked along into the shifting throng of other guests. She thinks she sees Shiv going a little nuts, a few meters off, but is promptly distracted from that when Tommy grabs at her waist and drags her into a sort of dance that… kind of lacks any rhythm. It definitely seems like Tommy doesn’t really dance, either, though it looks really good on her, but really, by this point in the night, Greg can admit that she might be biased.
The song shifts from on the stage to one at a slower pace, making Greg’s ears burn, as Tommy looks up at her with a slow blink and a smirk. It’s definitely a, like – yeah, she has stumbled into a date.
Tommy shifts forward, groping along Greg’s lower back, then sliding her hands up, and she’s nearly as tall as her with tonight’s choice of heels.
Greg does her best to answer the broadcasted kiss in earnest, worrying a little that it’s too dry, nose bumping in the wrong places, but Tommy doesn’t seem to realize it. She’s actually just grabbing at Greg more, tugging her in so she’s pressed all the way up along her body while they move with the music.
“I’m really glad Shiv called me,” Tommy says, grinning up into Greg’s face, fingers sweeping over her ears and down into her hair. “You look so hot on this dress I chose, you really do, but I’m fucking ecstatic I could get to take it off.”
Greg chokes a little on an agreeable hum, nodding with a hard drop of her head.
Tommy leans in for another kiss, a hand still wrapped at Greg’s jaw while the other roves down her body, then around to grip at her ass. The music drops into a heavier beat, surrounding them with heady, throbbing bass, and she grinds against Greg, thighs strong and thick, foot slotting against Greg’s instep, using a moment of shock to slip her tongue into her mouth.
It a little difficult for Greg to keep up with, mostly because she is so unfamiliar with this sort of club-esque writhing to the music. She lets a bit loose to grope her hands against Tommy’s ribs, holding her close and copping her own feel with a curve of a palm around a rounded breast and brushing a thumb down exposed cleavage. She flushes worse when Tommy moans approval against her lips, head tilting and tongue sweeping along the inside of Greg’s lip. It’s lewd and insinuating, making Greg burn with a startling want, arousal bolting to her groin, and she can’t help her own moan, loud enough, it seems, to earn an evident laugh against her lips.
The song jerks abruptly to a stop, and Greg is near panting, one hand having found it’s way to curl into Tommy’s palm and feel the soft thud of her pulse. She thinks Tommy looks breathless, too, but not in anyway that seems as embarrassing, but actually more attractive; her brow sweaty and her hair threatening to loosen over an ear.
A mumble comes from the stage that Greg only half hears, followed by a click and whine of speakers. The voice that replaces it is nothing like the previous performer, instead it is low, masculine, and horribly familiar.
“Oh my god,” Tommy says, voice pitching, turning tragically away from Greg to stare up at the stage.
Greg watches as Kendall begins to move up and down, attached to some apparatus, and between this and kissing Tommy, she’s no longer sure she’s awake. “Where… where do I know this song?”
“It’s Billy Joel,” Tommy says, lifting a hand to cover her mouth, theatrically aghast, wobbling backward on her heels into Greg’s arms. “He’s singing Billy Joel to himself for his birthday.”
“He, um – ” Greg manages, watching Kendall’s performance on stage; his voice isn’t bad, but the whole thing… is definitely still the CEO of Waystar Royco suffering some weird breakdown about having no closure with his dead dad. “He is sort of too bizarre to function…”
“Thank you, girlie,” Tommy says, glancing over with a quick bark of laughter, though the humor fades again into disbelief when she looks back at Kendall on stage. “I feel like I’m some lobster stuck in a pot while the cook croons above me.”
Greg huffs and shifts her palm to fully fold her fingers in Tommy’s against her hip. She hasn’t managed to say it, but she’s really glad she asked Shiv about dresses, too.
#tomgreg#obvs cred to neglectedtuesday and tinyufoboss transfem / nb greg content#hopefully this is an alright addition#cw rule 63#wrote most of this in a fugue state by which i mean i started something else and it became this#so apologies to that fill#fuck i meant to put this in drafts for tomorrow#oh WELl
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one thing among many that's haunting me about the lazarus project is im pretty sure Shiv is the first person george ever kills. and when he kills him for the first time its such a shock bc everyone's meant to think george isn't capable of that, and I think under normal circumstances he Wouldn't be but in this case he's banking on the fact he's gonna bring him back, like he literally promises him that's what he'll do. that's how he justifies everyone he kills that loop - none of its real, none of its permanent, so none of it is gonna matter, and when it works he says "everyone I ever killed just came back to life today" as though that undoes it all, which he really thinks it does.
of course he's wrong and he realises that I think when he starts getting flashbacks of the bomb at the pub with Sarah, but there's a whole nother dimension to it in the final episode that's like you think you can kill someone and have it mean nothing? just because the person you kill comes back? okay then *traps you in an infinite loop of killing that same person over and over and over again until you realise how wrong you were*
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Valerie 'Val' Anderson looked up at the big house where her new foster parents had dropped her off. They had excused themselves, saying 'an important business trip had come up but Steve will be there to take care of you'.
Val had just shrugged. They hadn't forbidden her from taking food out of the fridge or pantry and they hadn't given her a time limit for her showers so so far they didn't seem half bad.
Her combat boots clicked as she walked up the path to the front porch, her backpack in hand. Val had only been in the foster system for about a year but she had heard horror stories from other kids and teenagers - girls mostly - so she had made herself her own little tools and weapon so that she could defend herself. Mr. Harrington didn't seem like the type that enjoyed beating or abusing girls, though, but now she was going to meet the son. Alone.
So she had equipped herself with Dr. Martens with steel toes - perfect for rendering a man helpless - or in this case, a teenage boy.
She had put on contacts that morning and switched her regular glasses for a pair of fake ones, where she had sharpened one of the side pieces into a shiv, held together with duct tape. It looked rather innocent - people probably thought that she was too poor to get her glasses fixed. As well as a collection of rings with sharp edges.
Val took a deep breath and then knocked on the front door.
Steve hadn't really known what to expect. For one thing, he really didn't even know why his parents had decided to follow through with this thing. He had some reasons that he could come up with, ranging from the fact that they were upset to have an only child. An only child that had seemingly disappointed them in his inability to excel at school and constantly let them down as a soon. On the other end of the coin, he wondered if his parents were doing this for more money - adoption and fostering and whatnot really did contribute to the bank, and he knew his dad loved money more than anything.
So yeah, Steve hadn't been prepared for this. He had been used to being the golden child his whole life, even if he had been doing wrong in his parent's eyes, or especially in his dads. His parents were almost never around, so he had basically raised himself, and now he was being told he had to raise...someone else? He knew that he was jokingly labeled a babysitter more often than not, but that didn't mean he wanted one to be a full time position for him.
As the door knocked, his eyes widened a bit - yeah, definitely not what he expected. This girl stood out like a sore thumb in Hawkins, even more than any of the party did with their weirdness. If anything, this girl looked like she would fit in much better with the likes of Eddie Munson over in Forest Hills than here with Steve and his family. He realized he had been staring, clearing his throat before leaning against the doorframe. "Valerie...?" As if it would be anyone else, considering he knew everyone else in Hawkins.
"Uh, welcome, I guess." How did he even initiate something like this? "I'm Steve. Come on in." He stepped aside, allowing her the space to come in and make herself comfortable, if that was even possible in the situation that she was in. "Make yourself at home." Since it was going to be her home, he figured that made sense to say, right?
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Triggers/ foreword: loud, most ethnic, language, partial nudity, Video lyrics
N-dubz {papa, wouldn’t you, better not waste my time}, Ayumi Hamasaki {real me, surreal, appears, fairyland, bluebird, ourselves, microphone, november, [moon returns], sending meil, like a doll, lelio, rainbow, rule, my name’s women, is this love? Song 4 u, ladies’ night, about you, nextlevel, dearest, game, mirrorcle world, heaven, inspire, do it again, I dreamed a dream, step you, bold & delicious, unite
Samurai Champloo shiki no uta, Origa rise, inner universe [(fatty bean)], Goldie inner city life, M-flo play it again, After School first love, Koda Kumi run, candy
Seyi Shey irawo, murda, Psquare, Flavour, Nato C, Wizkid, Justine Skye, Leona Lewis summertime, collide, I see you, Beyonce green light, formation, signs, pretty hurts, sweet dreams, single ladies, get me bodied, 7-11, ring the alarm, halo, flaws, countdown, run the world, if I were a boy, haunted, Yonce, upgrade U, diva, Lil Mix wings,The Saturdays all fired up, hero, Brooke Candy FMU, nymph, paper or plastic, happy days, rubber band stacks, study in duality
Dorian Electra egdelord, f the world, Azealia Banks chasing time, 212, Anna Wintour, big big beat, harlem shake, atm jam, miss camaraderie, fierce, atlantis,
miss amour, count contessa, no problems, heavy metal & reflective, running, 1991, Kerli army of love, diamond hard, walking on air, feral hearts, Allie X prime, bitch, simon says, catch my breath, old habits die hard, it’s not so bad in LA, Miss A breathe,
hush hush, AoA bing bing, good luck, 4Minute crazy, CL the baddest female, Jessi gucci, nunu nana, Hyuna how’s that, bubble pop, nabillera, Gfriend fingertip, Kara step it up,//
mama mia, lion heart, Hitomi Shimatani perseus, garnet moon, papillon, Boards of Canada roygbiv, Bjork it’s in our hands, it’s oh so quiet,
pagan poetry, where is the line, cocoon, oceania, play dead, army of me, big time sensuality, I miss you, possibly maybe, isobel, human behaviour
Mondo Grosso labyrinth, CL lifted, 2NE1 I hate you, I love you, come back home, I am the best, fire, can’t nobody, gotta be you, AoA like a cat
Hilary Duff coming clean, with love, fly, sparks, Dua Lipa we’re good, Sugarcubes birthday, Destiny’s Child survivor, lose my breath, soldier, Lily Allen smile, the fear, The Ting tings that’s not my name
The Yeah Yeahs heads will roll, The Veronicas hook me up, popular, lolita, take me on the floor, this love, Escape the sound let’s go, Lorn anvil, acid rain
Elliphant love you better, still getting younger, spoon me, (ft. MO )one more, “ lean on, kamikaze, Grimes genesis, idoru, world princess, butterfly, california,
delete forever, scream, Mia hungrigez hertz, MIA hombre, XR2, world town, jimmy, 10 dollar, 20 dollar, Wynter Gordon (ft. FloRida )sugar, stimela, levitate, believer, Diana “ woman, thank you /
Men Without Hats safety dance, Sade soldier of love, paradise, cherish the day, moon & stars, The Third Realm dance like you wanna die, kiss of the scorpion, invitation to hell,
forever, IAMX stardust, Sirius neon dominion, Ludovico technique dead inside, absence, deeper into you, potential, heal my scars, beyond therapy, wasting, Shiv-r devil’s night, alpha omega, Psychlon 9 parasitic, as you sleep,
Vanessa Hudgens sneakernight, baby come back, Lionbabe fire, Jetta electrify, ABRA fruit, Kilo Kish, The Internet girl, Doja Cat streets, Vegas, beautiful, nunchucks, Lola Munroe overtime, Exodus 23, you a jerk, Allie & AJ potential breakup song, like whoa, rush,
Ghost little sunshine, cirice, square hammer, he is, Lana Del Rey doin time, kill kill, venice bitch, chemtrails over the country club, hit & run, video game, black beauty, high by the beach, diet mountain dew, yayo, swan song, say yes to heaven, Marina & the Diamonds immortal, teen idle, the outsider,
fear & loathing, valley of the dolls, I’m not a robot, mowgli’s trail, handmade heaven, blue, solitaire, family jewels, hermit the frog, superstar, Mo Cheddah ko ma roll, Solange tony, losing you, cranes in the sky,
Tinashe aquarius, bet on it, cold sweat, cold sweat, bated breath, party favours, Beach Boys good vibrations, The Pretty Reckless you, miss nothing, medicine, Kalafina magia,
Birthday Massacre superstition, goodnight, blue, looking glass, Ayria gun song, Okilly Dokilly white wine spritzer, New Years’ Day gangsta [(Kehlani cover)], Nightclub show it to me, your addiction, Nuages dreams, Gunship dark all day,
Nicki Minaj your love, chun-li, barbie tings, pills & potions, superbass, right thru me, Madonna jump, (ft. MIA & Nicki Minaj )give me all your luvin’, la isla bonita, Charli XCX boom clap, you (ha ha ha),
party 4 u, 1999, (ft. Iggy Azalea )fancy, Zheani lulu, lava, Rina Sawayama xs, comme des garcons, Bassnectar future, dota, The Noisettes love power, that girl, cheap thrills, Shingai coming home
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Hello! I'm fairly new to succession and I'm still on s2 but I've seen spoilers for the s3 finale and I had a question. I've seen the scene of Tom betraying Shiv paralleled to the scene in s1 when Tom thinks Shiv betrayed him by telling Gerri about the press conference and maybe I'm mistaken but I thought it was revealed in that episode that it was actually Greg that told Gerri but he lied to Tom and that led Tom to the conclusion that it had to be Shiv (kinda telling that he'd trust Greg over his own fiancé). So like, did Tom betray Shiv thinking she betrayed him first but it was actually Greg that betrayed him? I kinda like how that makes Greg seem even more evil and scheming, manipulating Tom from the start and now they're running away together lmao but like I said maybe I'm mistaken? Could you perhaps shed some light?
Hi!
You are quite right, it was Greg that told Gerri about Tom's plans for a Cruise press conference.
But in terms of 'did Tom betray Shiv thinking she betrayed him first?', I do think Shiv has been betraying Tom in many ways, large and small, since before they were married. First and foremost, with Nate!
I think fundamentally though they have both been talking at cross-purposes forever. Two examples:
season 1: when Joyce Miller's husband gets his asshole out online, Shiv's bidding for help from Tom, and all Tom can think about is their wedding. I think a lot of people see this and hear Tom getting brushed off--but it's actually Tom brushing Shiv off, here, then being ignored in turn.
season 2: Austerlitz. Tom is very flippant about the Roy therapy endeavour--a quart of Roy injected into my eyeballs, he says. I think his attitude is partly because no one else is taking it seriously either:
But it's also partly, I think, because he doesn't know how to speak constructively about the abusive old elephant in the room--because he wants so desperately to seduce it. Even after Logan comes for them both, all he can offer her is silent support.
How does Shiv reconcile everything her father is with the fact Tom will never truly understand it? As much as he loves her--and he does love her; at the end of S1, at least, he'd choose SCUBA with Shiv over being Logan's favoured lackey--he's also fucking desperate for a piece of the pie. Peter Munga Munion (or whatever the fuck Caroline's new husband is called) is very similar to early Tom in that way.
I think Tom and Shiv's relationship is at first less one of mutual betrayal and more one of mutual misunderstanding. They can't TALK about the things they're supposed to talk about in a useful way. Tom and Shiv have both followed a script with each other. In S1, Shiv talks about that on their wedding night, the types of love, the last fridge magnet left, but it's only really in S3 that Tom catches up: you can't just take my love and bank it.
In terms of whether that makes Greg seem more manipulative, I think it definitely does, but that Tom would not be as thrilled to find out about it as he was with Greg's blackmail. Likely he'd discover it via Gerri, maybe, if it serves her interests--though I don't know if he'd believe it unless he heard it from Greg.
I've actually written a version of a GREGNY reveal in a fic, so I'm sorry for borrowing from myself when I say that I think ultimately Greg will be able to convincingly argue that he was doing it because he felt like he had no other option: that if Tom held a press conference, he'd go down, and Greg with him--and Greg was not about to let himself sink before he'd even begun to swim. We know Tom, for all his explosions, is actually maybe overwilling to forgive Greg when it counts. I think Tom, in shock, would try to brush it off, though unless they talked it out it would fester.
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SOPHIE!!!! TELL ME MORE!!!!
Okay okay okay, LOOK.
Let's start with Roman.
Roman Roy
Well, for starters, in canon, he definitely had some weird pseudo sexual relationship with his personal trainer in s1 (did his pt jerk him off like Gerri asks him in 2.07??) and 100% would've had a threesome (well, tried to have a threesome) with Lawrence and his boyfriend if there was more of an opening.
Putting that aside though, I think when he was learning that he wasn't necessarily that into p in v sex, he would've pretty desperately and chaotically explored, well, options, y'know?
After all, a teenaged Roman would definitely want to know why Stacey Baker sticking her hand down his pants at summer camp made him want to fling himself into the sun.
(If anyone was to ever ask, it would definitely be because her parents only ran the third biggest bank in America, and his dick has standards, okay)
So he, y'know, fooled around with guys, and the luxury of being out at boarding school in the middle of Tennessee while Shiv and Kendall were stuck with dad in Manhattan meant he could do it really whenever he wanted.
And he did.
A lot.
Guys and girls and people who were both or neither, whoever, Roman didn't care. What Roman wanted was the experience, and what he wanted was to - - y'know. Get off. Like a Norrmal.
And he did even if he wasn't ever entirely comfortable. Managed to grit teeth through it, and he maybe was never really into the sex part of it, but he liked the stuff around sex. Liked the flirting and the tension and the touching and the way he could move someone. Liked the way they could make him move too.
And honestly, he worked out pretty quickly that what someone was packing didn't really matter.
Nah, what was more interesting, what made it more fun, what got the heat pooling low in him was the kinda weird shit. The not taboo, but maybe taboo when you're fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and getting a little friendly with players on the opposite team, or the freak in the mascot costume, or your siblings' friend, or the college work experience kid is sorta something that gets you talked about.
(And come on, Roman'll be the first to admit getting talked about gets him off).
And it escalated as he got older – through college and into the real world – only when he was seeing dad on the regular again, there became this other layer of it too.
The sort of parallel need to have someone on his arm that dad would like.
Fuck, after Kendall brought home Rava - - then it became an even bigger deal. So Roman started dating girls like her, and almost-fucking other people - weirdos his dad would hate - loud women with buzzcuts and leg hair, and guys that work for Sandy Furness, and, shit, better, guys who work for him. Guys who work for Kendall.
(Also, okay, Nate, once).
Anyone he can talk loud and fast with, who can jerk off beside him and know that saying they fucked a Roy will be better than the truth, so will spin their stories and keep Roman's reputation exactly where he wants it.
Keep him being talked about in just the way he wants to be.
Shiv Roy
I mean, she canonically has sex with women as seen by her attempts to have a threesome with one in 2.10
And come on, party girl Shiv Roy? She had a rep of her own once upon a time, before Tom anyway.
Okay, after Tom too.
It's not like it's a thing. Shiv just likes to get off, and half the time, women are better for that anyway. Better at least than the corporate cocksucks and limpdicked liberals she meets in her real life anyway.
Hell, that's even how it started in a lot of ways. Back when she was at Spence. There were no guys around except her brothers' friends or dad's colleagues' sons, who all had 0 appeal, and enough girls stared at her at school anyway, and Shiv just figured - - well, it was experience, right?
And so what if she liked the way Mandy Menkle chewed on her pencil, or her skin felt like it was on fire every time Lyla Curtin pressed her arm, her thigh, against her's in the yearbook committee meetings?
It really wasn't a thing.
But Lyla's her first kiss, but Mandy's her first everything else, and sometimes Shiv daydreams about them living in Paris together. Bohemians like Djuna Barnes.
Of having her cake and eating it too.
But y'know, then she caught Mandy totally embarrassing herself in front of Stewy at her birthday party, and it's not like it was a betrayal or - - god, a rejection, because they weren't ever anything like that, but still. Shiv had called it, and figured she'd outgrown the phase anyway.
Or not really, because college was a whirlwind of guys and then when they got boring, girls, and then both at the same time, and Shiv rolled between them but always made sure she left before she could really feel anything.
And then she was working in politics and fucking around with Nate, and she met Lisa at a fundraiser, and she didn't chew on pencils like Mandy Menkle, and she definitely wasn't like any of the women at college or at the clubs, so maybe that's why waking up in bed with her the next morning already felt like trouble.
Felt like it even more when Lisa kept in touch.
When Nate did.
Even more so when that cornfed guy she met at a Waystar mixer did too, all teeth and earnestness.
Vaguely Shiv remembered Paris fantasies, of having her cake and eating it too, and she thought no, not a reality.
(Or maybe it was. after all, she's her father's daughter, and didn't her father raise her to know reality was what youmade it?)
Kendall Roy
Again, starting canonically, one of his first scenes in the entire series involves him offering to blow Lawrence to make the deal go through, so the Roy bros are definitely gay for Lawrence, I think we can all jot that down.
But okay okay okay, Kendall Roy is straight.
Mostly.
Not really.
Maybe not at all? I mean, come on, expecting this guy to have even the vaguest clue of any part of himself is Not Realistic, but y'know, he can kind of admit to sometimes thinking about Stewy - - or - - y'know what, no he can't.
Not even when they're fucking.
It's not that he's homophobic, but also his dad has this plan for him and Kendall wants to do the Plan. The Plan's important to dad which means it's important to Kendall, and a big part of that Plan is get married, have kids, preserve the Roy family line, because the first born's not - - y'know
Producing an heir.
And he loves Rava, he really does, because she's beautiful and smart and funny and she touches him gently which is something Kendall never thought he needed (still doesn't want to need, not really, not ever), but the heir isn't coming, and the drugs aren't working as well anymore, and sometimes what Kendall needs is Stewy's mouth and Stewy's body and all the ways Stewy knows him.
The worst him.
The him he doesn't like that Stewy for some reason still does, and it's not that he's gay or bi or whatever (even though, okay, maybe sometimes he thinks about other guys too, but who doesn't?) it's just - -
They're just his people. Stewy and Rava. Other people have people. He's allowed to have them too, right?
Connor Roy
I mean, not to stereotype here, but his mom ran a dance charity.
Connor was around artsy people, so Connor - - y'know, he'd say he was around people of all types and predilections from a pretty young age, thank you very much.
And y'know, Connor isn't adverse to sampling.
In fact, Connor would even say it was important. He likes the finer things - his parents raised him to be worldly after all, and a part of being worldly is being open to experiences.
Although to be honest, the opportunity never really presented itself.
Not for lack of trying of course, he was in college in the 80s, so y'know, he was exposed to certain Things.
It's more that he sort of always ended up distracted, or the guys wandered off, or only wanted to talk about his dad, which honestly is still a bit of a turn off to this day. He doesn't get why the golden trio are so into it.
Anyway, it wasn't until he really got into Napoleonic history that the thought to explore really took hold for him though, because Napoleon might not have approved of homosexuality personally, but he appointed Jean-Jacques-Régis de Cambacérès his First Consul, and he was openly gay and decriminalised homosexuality in France, and y'know, that really got Connor thinking.
Thinking he should play Jean-Jacques-Régis de Cambacérès in the Napoleonic Society re-enactment of the writing of the Napoleonic Code.
(He could play Napoleon of course, but honestly, Connor's simply too peaceful and moderate to play the leader. His right hand though? Pretty great. Also he's too tall to play Napoleon).
He gets the part, of course, and he's method, y'know, so talks to the production coordinator about how to really lean in to the role, and long story short, there's a bit of a Connor-instigated circle jerk backstage.
Whatever, they're all into it, and Connor thinks he probably prefers feminine hands on his dick generally, but there's a certain appeal in the grip and technique, and he forces the cast and crew into a debrief that makes everyone want to melt through the floor.
But still, they don't exactly stop doing it, and Connor's always down to make the day a little better.
Logan Roy
Look, Logan's done whatever he's had to to get where he is.
He was born with nothing, but long ago decided that he wouldn't die with it.
But still, he's fucked around less than people think. He likes the relationships he's had, and he's never been the sort to get his rocks off just for the fucking sake of it (nah, that's all Ewan).
The way he's always wanted it, liked it, is with people who just sort of - - fuck.
Fit with him.
Connor's mother, Caroline, Marcia, Rhea.
He doesn't cheat for the sake of cheating, he cheats because something feels real, and what's sex when something feels real? A handshake really.
Get off and leave something behind.
Live inside the other person for a bit, a lifetime, who cares. Just occupy a space for a moment.
And that's the thing with Gerri and Frank.
They've known each other for a really long time, more than forty years now, and Gerri and Logan fucked it out of their system long ago, but she's also never really wavered.
Frank though, he's there then he's not, he's an ally, a backstabber, the greatest friend and the most knowing of enemies, and okay, so maybe something that started off as a few quick strokes back in '86, has been a process of swings and roundabouts over the years.
Never real sex, never really more than hands, but Logan would be lying if he said he didn't know the texture of Frank's palm, or the weight of him in his hand.
Whatever, it's business, it's sex, it's sometimes the only way Logan knows how to communicate any sort of intimacy.
Frank gets it.
(Frank feels it too)
#here are some Thought Dumps#hahaha#i think there's also something to be said that frank's sort of more of a parent to both kendall and roman than caroline is#even if roman hates him lol#it makes for a really interesting dynamic#also thank you to everyone for ignoring my extremely incorrect tag for lisa's surname in my original tags haha#it was LATE#roman roy#shiv roy#kendall roy#connor roy#logan roy#hbo succession#welcome to my ama
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Knife in a Gun Fight
Colson Baker/MGK 1920s bootlegger AU
A/N--This is the very short intro/prologue of my Colson Baker/MGK 1920s gangster AU. Message me to be added to the tag list, and chapter 1 will be up in a few hours.
Established in the plains of north Texas, a solitary, Irish Catholic family existed solely on their ability to farm and sell—farm, sell, farm, sell. For generations, farming produce, such as wheat and corn, was all any member of the Nevin family knew. There was nothing outside of the small, flat farm; no prospects of any other career, no hope for advancement, no life for a person with the last name Nevin, and the same could be said about the Klaffs. This was a fact of nature known for generations upon generations, until the birth of Siobhan-Honora Nevin.
As a bitter cold air pierced her neck, Siobhan peeled her eyes away from the newspaper she had been examining and carefully scanned the room. Sure, there was a sense of protection as she sat in a semi-circle booth surrounded by her cousins and brothers, but it didn’t take away from the sheer danger she knew they were in. The cozy and welcoming feeling of the small café she sat in did nothing to ease the gnawing within her stomach as her eyes nervously danced across the room once more before she returned her attention to the paper before her.
A fresh mug of steaming hot coffee was placed in front of her by a young woman who couldn’t have been much older than herself, and she tried to ignore the flirtatious glances the woman exchanged with her older cousin, George Klaff. “Do you mind,” Siobhan huffed under her breath as she pulled the paper back to her line of sight and cautiously examined it for any tips or leads that contained information about any of the five individuals gathered around the table.
“Get off it, Shiv,” George grumbled as he leaned over and propped his elbows up onto the table. “We’re in Saint Paul. Ain’t no body going to find us here.” Shiv eyed her cousin as she chewed anxiously at the inside of her lip.
“We’re ‘hiding out’ in the place all criminals go to lay low. It’s a safe haven for the lowly, and it’s the first place someone will come looking for us,” Shiv retorted as she lowered her voice and glared across the table at George.
“Lay off her, George. You know she’s right,” George’s little brother, Walter, piped up. At only twenty-one, Walter was the youngest of the bunch of familial misfits. He hadn’t meant to get mixed up in the actions of his older brother and cousins, but once he had, he knew there was no going back.
“Who’s the oldest one here?” George retorted as he scanned over the faces before him. “Who formed this operation nine years ago?”
“You know your role, George,” said Shiv’s older brother, Arthur, in a deep and low tone. “All of us do, and right now, it’s time for us to back down and for Shiv to take over. Got it?” George scrunched up his face and pursed his lips in aggravation, however he knew the words Art had spoken to be true.
Had it really been nine years? Shiv thought as she looked over the men’s faces around her. George was a year away from thirty with nothing to show as proof he’d lived life other than a few scars from narrow escapes from death. George was a fairly tall man, standing just below six foot, with a stocky build. His dark eyes were clouded with hooded brows and his black hair fell over his forehead in shaggy strands. The energetic and playful look he’d once had when he first, unintentionally, introduced his cousins and brother to this lifestyle was replaced with a stoic and mysterious grimace which instantly tied together his allure of being the tall, dark, and handsome stranger of the group.
Art stood slightly taller than George with a leaner frame but equally as strong and muscular as his older cousin. He was only seventeen when he began driving George around to neighboring counties, unaware at first of what they were doing, however upon realizing there was something to do with his life other than farming, Art willingly continued working with George. His deep blue eyes had only grown sharper with time and his once sandy blonde hair had darkened into a light brown.
A year of Art and George wandering throughout Collin, Grayson, and Hunt counties was more than enough time for Shiv to connect the dots and blackmail her way into the non-nefarious criminal activities the pair of cousins were performing. At sixteen, she could see the benefits her brother and cousin were bringing their families, and being the only educated member of either family—aside from their parents—Shiv demanded to be let into the operation. She’d always been tough and stronger than other girls her age. Being a girl didn’t excuse her from working on the farm once she returned home from school or had no where to go during the summer, however it did damn her to the fate of being nothing more than bride-wealth for her family. She saw what her cousin and brother were doing to be a means of escaping her fate, and like the older two members of the group, she embraced it.
Undenounced to Shiv, her younger brother Edmund had overheard her conversation with George and Art, and threatened to tell their parents if they didn’t include him. Two years later, when Walt was fifteen, he joined what would become known across the country as the Nevin-Klaff gang.
The papers have it wrong, Shiv would constantly tell herself as she read article after article in nearly every Tribune, Press, News, Gazette, and Journal from Texas to Minnesota containing the words Nevin and Klaff. They only see us as breaking the law. They don’t care that it’s a stupid law, and they certainly don’t try and see the benefits small farms across the country are reaping because of it. Shiv knew the papers didn’t care, that law enforcement didn’t care, and that no glory would ever be sent their way, but she knew that because of her, her brothers, and her cousins, farmers that would have otherwise lost their land to banks are now developing nest eggs, and that was all that mattered to her.
“I wonder how Ma and Pop are doing,” Eddy sighed as his eyes trailed the paper over his sister’s shoulder. She knew he was trying to read, and after what she’d been teaching him, she assumed he could come to the same conclusion she had—they were going to be on the move for quite some time.
“Sometimes I have dreams of Mom and Pa swinging out on the porch swing with Auntie Johanna and Uncle Owen, not having to worry about a damned thing anymore, but then I remember they’re probably worrying about us,” Walt sighed as he scooped some eggs up on his fork and shoveled them into his mouth. “It makes me want to see them again.”
“Y’all know we can’t ever go home,” Shiv commented sharply as her eyes darted between the two younger members of the group. Edmund was only a year younger than her, but only growing up on the farm and not having any friends outside of their cousins made him seem much younger than his biological age, and even thought Walter was only three years younger than Shiv, he shared a similar outlook as Eddy. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you knew this was a possibility when you signed up,” she said in a softer and more gentle tone after seeing how her brother’s face fell at her harsh words.
“They’re still kids, Shiv,” George whispered into his cousin’s ear only to have her turn her head to face him. Her pale eyes shone up at him as her dark hair fell around the soft, pale skin of her face. Everything about her was binary; her features were sharp yet gentle, she was dangerous but offered safety and comfort, and the one he struggled most with: the wisdom that aged her stood in stark contrast to her youth. Too many times both George and Art forgot that the brains leading them across the country and into safety while still calculating ways to help others was barely older than the two members he still considered kids.
“So, what do we do?” Art asked as he looked at his sister for guidance. Shiv laid the paper down in her lap and looked nervously over her accomplices’ shoulders before lowering her voice to a whisper.
“Local cops are looking for us in the towns we hit on the way up here. We stuck to smaller cities and already returned the profit to the farms. We have enough cash to keep us tied over for a bit, but we have to be careful. No blowing cash, starting fights, or trying to find a quick score or fast job, got it?” she asked as she met each of her family members’ eyes. “Don’t draw attention to yourself by any other groups hanging around here. Most of the country’s attention is on Capone, so there’s still a way we can slide by unnoticed.”
“We can’t stay here forever, Shiv,” Art said softly as he stretched his back and looked out over the café.
“We just have to stay long enough for me to pull off one last scheme.” A devious smirk tugged at her lips as she plotted what was sure to be a one-way ticket to safety for her and her family. Shiv thought through everything: how to gain protection and ensure safety, how to pass through dangerous territory without feeling the threat of danger, how to not only survive, but thrive. She knew her plan inside and out, but there was one obstacle that stood in her way, one uncertainty she figured she could face and be done with, one man who was known by outsiders solely as The Gun.
Next Chapter
#colson baker#colson baker fanfiction#colson baker fanfic#colson baker au#mgk#mgk fanfic#mgk au#machine gun kelly#machine gun kelly fanfiction#machine gun kelly fanfic#machine gun kelly au#gangster AU#1920s gangsters#colson x reader#colson x ofc#mgk x ofc#machine gun kelly x ofc#knife in a gun fight
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QUESTIONS FOR OC CREATORS
( Saw these floating around on Tumblr and decided give it a shot. Art of V was done by the wonderful @commandermorgan because she’s a talented artist who needs all the acknowledgment for her gorgeous works. )
A) Why are you excited about this character?
Because Vera is a Black Bisexual woman ( like me! ) who is a Nomad in the Cyberpunk 2077 universe. Hardened by her life in the Badlands and ready to prove something to the people of Night City, Vera isn't a kind person and she’s not here to be your caretaker or hold your hand. She’s got her own agenda and while she’s always looking out for number one ( herself ), it’s not because she’s irredeemably self-serving, but because she’s a nomad who has been taught to survive from the moment she learned how to walk.
Vera has the appearance of a sweet-faced, angelic beauty with an otherworldly innocence about her...except she’s the total opposite of her appearance and is someone who is incredibly dangerous and a product of the harsh environment she grew up in. I wanted to write a character who people would underestimate at first glance only to regret it later on. I also wanted to write a Black female character because as a Black woman, I’m more comfortable writing characters of my race, gender, and sexuality. Also, I see very few Black V’s in the Cyberpunk fandom and just wanted to get a headstart on that.
B) What inspired you to create them?
It was complex female characters like Selina Kyle, Yennefer, and Ada Wong that inspired me to create Vera. Vera is a young woman in her early twenties who has lived a very hard life and desires to become something more in Night City.
She’s fiercely independent and pragmatic to a fault, but she has managed to keep her integrity as a nomad intact and has her own “code” that she lives by. Vera grew up in the Badlands and survived by herself when her nomad family fell apart, going by less than favorable means, such as scavenging for supplies or even killing if necessary to protect her interests. At times she appears aloof and self-serving, hardened because of her deeply troubled life, but that doesn’t mean she won’t work alongside someone to get the job done.
Vera is extremely guarded but has shown a degree of loyalty and compassion that she seldom reveals because of her chosen stoic exterior. Despite her “difficult” personality, she does have some semblance of a conscience and genuinely cares for anyone she considers “family.”
C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?
To be honest...yes. Cyberpunk 2077 was slowly coming out of the woodworks and I was being spoon-fed small doses of information. So small that I didn’t know where to begin with Vera’s story. I plotted what I could with the teeny bits of information I was given. I mean, the game’s not even out yet and after watching all the NCW episodes, I’ve come to the conclusion that once the game comes out, I’m going to be making some big changes to her story.
D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?
You know what? There’s some old artwork of Vera where she had green hair and her name was Vanya the artwork was done by @taiga-saejima who is just wonderful and incredible ( please show the mun some support ).
“Vanya” was originally a brash, impulsive young woman with a prosthetic arm that could drill holes through a wall and had dreams of grandeur, but over time...she slowly began to evolve. She changed from this loud-mouthed moron to a silent survivalist suffering from an extreme amount of PTSD and has unresolved grief from a childhood trauma that haunts her.
Like Max from Fury Road, she wandered from place to place in hopes of outrunning the “ghosts” that shadow her steps. Vera tells herself that she only came to Night City to make it big and provide opportunities for other nomads looking to earn a living for their families and that’s partially true, but deep down, she needed a distraction. Also, her hair is no longer green but a dark purple and her prosthetic forearm cannot drill holes into walls.
E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?
I think we’d get along okay, but we wouldn’t be super close.
I’m a huge wuss, and I would never be able to keep up with her because of my anxiety, my fear of loud noises, my crippling fear of getting physically hurt, and my unholy addiction to tea. Yes, Vera and I share some similarities, but I’ve been coddled my whole life, and she’s been on the road surviving. Vera and I would be better off as friendly neighbors eating lunch together and watching trashy reality shows.
F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?
I feel nothing but love and pride for my baby girl. She’s been with me since 2019 and I’m surprised at how much she’s evolved as a character. Yes, I put her through a lot of shit but I never go overboard because heaping a bunch of pain on an oc can get boring and downright depressing. Vera’s story is about endurance, healing, determination, family, and freedom.
G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?
Although intelligent, Vera is highly paranoid which, combined with her temper can also affect the headway of her plans or position. She doesn’t trust easily and has a tiny circle of friends that she knows will never betray her. I can’t exactly blame her for being this way but this paranoia can be a hindrance because she’s slow to warm up to people and believes that someone is always out to get her.
H) What trait do you admire most?
Her ability to manage money.
Vera excels at money management, and that is due to her analytical, obsessive nature. She’ll dot her i's and cross her t's — that means no stone goes unturned, and when it comes to financing, it's the same.
She’ll make notes, take notes, and figure things out in a realistic way. Reality is key with Vera, and that means she doesn’t fantasize about her bank account; she knows exactly what's going on and how to make her money grow.
Does she love spending money? Yes! She loves shopping, but she loves managing her money more...and discounts.
I also love how she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.
Nothing is more important to Vera than achieving her own goals. She’s not out to hurt anyone, not really, but she will do whatever it takes to succeed and make it big in Night City. If someone gets in her way, that’s too bad — Vera won’t hesitate to tip the scales in her favor and remove the obstacle. The concept of “fair” loses all meaning to her if she feels like her ambitions are being threatened.
J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?
Yes? No? I already know that a Nomad!V had to leave their family but there’s no information as to what happened to them...so I made up my own headcanon about what happened to Vera’s family. Her parents were murdered by Wraiths and the rest of her nomad family scattered during a particularly gruesome raid led by Raffen Shiv.
I haven’t played the game yet...soooo I’m not sure which part of her story is canon.
I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?
Yes and no.
I have so many aus for her it’s ridiculous. I have a Dead By Daylight au where she’s a goth girl just trying to survive and I have a Fallout 4 au where she traveled from the Mojave to the Commonwealth after her family was killed by the Legion.
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(COURTNEY EATON, CISFEMALE) - Have you seen MARLENA AUCOIN? LENA is in HER JUNIOR year. The ART HISTORY MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN People say SHE is DISCIPLINED, INTUITIVE, UNFORGIVING and SELF-RIGHTEOUS. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS PART OF A HAZING INCIDENT GONE WRONG THAT RESULTED IN A DEATH. (Olive. ur dictator.)
pinterest here
SUICIDE, DEATH TW
Marlena Aucoin! But she goes by Lena
She’s a new muse so bear with me. Inspired by Dear Zachary and My Year of Rest and Relaxation just a bit
Character inspirations: Peyton Sawyer, Carmen Rosón Caleruega, Theo Crain, Shiv Roy.
Her parents were never married. Her father was the wealthy heir to a Kennedy-like political fortune. She never actually met Jonathan Alcoin but he has been described to her as a cold, snake-like man. The kind who would steal his own father’s coat to keep himself warm
The Alcoins are widely known across the US for their fortune, as well as for having a powerful hand in politics. But an interesting thing about them is that they’re also known for their untimely deaths. Plane crashes, car accidents, heart attacks have taken out Alcoions in nearly every branch of the family tree
Um the Alcoin’s haven’t worked in years. Jonathan, and Lena, like those before them, don’t have to :make a living”. Their financial planners do that for them.
Her mother was Jonathan’s latest fling, another pretty thing for Jonathan to keep on his arm for event that he never actually cared about. Until she revealed that Jonathan had gotten her pregnant.
Lena’s mother, Theresa, had assumed the pregnancy would mean a wedding. She could see dollar signs in her eyes the second that little stick came up with two lines. However, Jonathan and his family had other plans for the girl and the pregnancy
Given Jonathan’s young age and his status, they had planned to lie and say that Lane was actually her grandparent’s child. They paid Theresa a hefty sum to keep quiet about the pregnancy as they cheerfully announced to the press that the Aucoins were expecting a miracle child at their later stage in life
But when lane was ripped out of Theresa’s arms seconds after her birth, the young girl began stewing. Being treated like a shameful secret left her ravenous and.... feral sfgfdfg
SUICIDE, DEATH TW: On Lena’s one month birthday she headed over to the Aucoin mansion and shot Jonathan three times, then herself. They both bled out quickly as Lena’s grandparents could do nothing but scream in horror
The whole true story of Lena’s origins came out quickly in the press after that. It was a media sensation, the wealthy family ripped apart by yet another tragedy
Okay so she was raised mainly by her grandparents and was hounded by the media all through her childhood bc of how her parents died
Her grandparents.... both died within a year of each other last year. So now she’s truly alone in the world. Except for a half-sister she’s never met.
PERSONALITY: UHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh she doesn’t really have one besides sarcasm. she’s very closed off for obvious reasons. she thinks every person that talks to her is just angling for info about her and her family
She really does feel a lot... I swear.... but she’s like the Ice Queen. It’s all clamped down inside. Occasionally she explodes like a pot boiling over.
uhhhh very self-obsessed. thinks she’s the most beautiful woman to ever walk planet earth
Is constantly on drugs. Pops two Ambien at night to fall asleep and then Adderall in the morning to keep herself awake. Washes down Ritalin with red wine. Leaves class frequently to snort a line of coke
Yeah it’s how she keeps herself from feeling too much <3
Okay but she’s actually very generous? Her money feels almost dirty to her. Being an orphan, she inherited the entirety of the Aucoin wealth. she picks up the tab, always, at restaurants and if you’re friends with her she’ll often leave the designer clothes she just purchased on your doorstep with a note that say “getting rid of old stuff! enjoy!” bc the guilt is too much for her to keep them.
Self righteous for a girl who’s constantly high
The only thing that makes her laugh is videos of men falling down im not kidding
She has a smoker’s voice, raspy and low. talks in monotone.
Um she keeps an old VHS player in her dorm room and when she’s feeling low will watch Sister Act starring Whoopi Goldberg over and over again. It’s a weird habit but she watched it with her grandpa while he was dying
She actually stress bakes as a hobby but then. She feels her grandmother’s voice chiding in her ear and doesn’t eat any of it
Her favorite music? Classical. Lost her virginity in a hotel room to Franz Lizst. But her second favorite music? ABBA. No it doesn’t make sense
Wears lots of ribbons in her hair and will wake up with them tangled into it
She’s mayhaps. Just a wee bit traumatized. From her parents. and being raised by her grandparents. They were awful. Cold and mean. Her grandfather was the only bright spot in her life and he was a odd little man who tutted about reading World War II novels and firing nannies left and right sdfgfddg
Uhhh she’s cheated on every significant other she’s ever had. Sex for her is like scratching at a bug bite, once you start you can’t stop. Thinks about sex constantly. Can’t actually stop thinking about it
Wears gloves a lot like Theo Crain but for the Aesthetic
Is she a victorian ghost? idk
She’s an art history major. Bc what else does a rich girl with no ambition study <3
Wears mostly black and prefers monochrome. Her aesthetic is sexy funeral director
She has an older, on again off again boyfriend named Trevor who’s actually like. A loser. He lives in Connecticut and is the manager at a bank. But he was her first time when she was eighteen and she can’t accept that he’s a loser sdfgfdsdfgfdfg. He treats her really horribly and cheats on all his girlfriend’s with Lena
WANTED CONNECTIONS!!
the investigator: someone who see lena as like. a project. they wanna know everything about her. get past her walls. and she’s like. no thanks <3
ummmmm someone to eat all the baked goods she makes and then throws out
twin flames!!! enough said
enemies.
um the person she lost her virginity to in new york in that hotel room <3
friends!!! someone to shower her guilt generosity on. she’s disgusted by her own wealth. also like. fellow rich kids who grew up together?
give me a friendship that’s like. “our families made us hang out in hs but you’re actually kinda cool?”
EXES!!! give me someone she cheated on. or. someone who broke her heart. ok goodbye
Ummmm someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and... does it anyways.
hookups!!!!
bad tinder date!!!
Someone she’s told about Trevor and is like girl wyd he’s the worst and Ugly
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Not A Ghost - part 30
A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.
Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.
-------------------------------------
Piotr’s gut was in knots, sick with worry. Each minute passing by was a minute that his wife and best friend were in terrible danger.
Charles Xavier reviewed the plans of the Icebox, projected onto the wall of his office. One of his teams had hacked into government servers to steal them. Even so, they weren’t complete plans. Some of the files were redacted, and the team was still looking for full versions. But, it was enough to confirm what Xavier had suspected for years. “Part of the structure has the very same alloy that Magneto and the Juggernaut use in their helmets, to keep telepaths from finding them.” He centered his gaze on the distraught Russian. “That’s why I could never find her with Cerebro, Peter. I’m sorry.”
Piotr clenched his fists, then released. “I always knew it wasn’t for lack of trying, Professor.”
"What we don't know," Xavier inhaled, deep in thought, "is how they acquired so much of it."
Cable pointed at one section, then another, "I initially breached here. In this section is where I first engaged Wade. We did a lot of damage they'll have repaired by now." He looked back at the others. "Do we have anything on the repairs?"
Xavier shook his head, "The hackers are still looking. It will be a matter of time."
"We don't have much time," Piotr huffed, agitated, and paced around the table.
"The plan," Cable said firmly as he followed the Russian giant with his gaze, "is for them to take the control office where the DMC keeps the hard tokens. They will need time for that. If we rush in too soon, there's too many factors we can't control."
Usually, Piotr was the levelheaded one. Usually, Piotr was the one talking down Logan or Scott from doing something drastic without thinking. His shoulders were tight with guilt and fear, tension etched into his expression. He turned to the youngest person in the room, "Russell, what can you tell us? What is the daily routine, how do new inmates get processed?"
Russell swallowed. It didn’t seem that long ago since he’d been in the Icebox himself, and he remembered even being a little excited to go, thinking he’d take over the whole prison with pure aggression and willpower. A lot had changed since Wade had taken a bullet for him, including realizing how dangerous the prison really was. He didn't dare say aloud that he thought taking over the place was impossible. “New inmates,” he began, licking his lips, “get hosed off before they give you the jumpsuit. They took mugshots of me and Wade and assigned us numbers, but I heard they don’t do that with everyone…” The adults shared a pointed look that made him pause.
“What else?” Xavier prompted gently.
He thought for a moment, then continued, “They brought me and Wade in at bedtime, put us in the same cell at lights-out. They did meals at six, twelve, and six.”
“What about guard rotations?” Piotr asked. “Or anything about the control office?”
When Russell couldn’t recall much specifically, admitting that wasn’t what he had been paying attention to, Cable filled in what he could. On the schematics, he pointed out a central box where he had previously encountered the officers gearing up in the armory. It had mostly glass walls, a bank of monitors to track security camera footage, control panels to operate every door in the Icebox.
“If they’re smart,” he added, “They’ll have changed a lot of this in the repairs.” Cable cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Superior firepower aside, I had next to no trouble just walking in there.”
Xavier nodded, carefully considering their options and the best approach to breaching the most secure mutant holding facility in the world.
Brows set in a scowl, hands clenching and releasing, heart pounding with worry, Piotr asked the teenage boy, “Is Rhonda well known in that place? What is her reputation?” He couldn’t bring himself to say his real question aloud.
Russell’s eyes widened slightly, then his gaze fell to the surface of the table under his fingers. He grimaced, sucking his teeth before answering, “The main thing I was told was you only sign the ‘Book in a group.”
--
"Already making the boys cry," Mimi purred in the dark. "I always liked you."
“You arranged this on purpose,” Rhonda didn’t move from having her back against the cell door, wary of every word and action from the leader of the Vicious 13. One hand rose to her collar and rubbed at the scabs.
Mimi leaned into the glow from neighboring cells’ lights, revealing dark, pointed scales like a viper. In more light, the scales would shine shades of green and purple, but in the dark, they looked charcoal grey. Her pale eyes, framed by big, fake, very contraband lashes, greedily drank in Rhonda’s frame, from the green of her hair to the clenched fists. “Of course I did,” she showed a little slip of pointed teeth in a smile, “I couldn’t have you getting killed too soon.”
Rhonda rolled her eyes and slipped onto her cot, but her shoulders didn’t relax. “So you can give me the Join Us Or Die pitch again.”
The reptilian woman clicked her tongue, a delicate sound, “I never say ‘or die,’ please.”
“Well, someone trying to kill me after every time I turn you down isn’t subtle.” She started to settle under the thin blanket. It would never keep her warm enough.
There was a rustling sound like dry leaves as Mimi shifted around. “What about that husband of yours? Did he toss you back in here, or was he never real to begin with?”
Rhonda delayed her answer. It was best to give someone like Mimi as little information as possible. “He’s real.” Over the dull murmuring of inmates settling into bed, someone a few cells down coughed. Maybe Wade.
“Ah,” Mimi hummed with too much amusement, “Homecoming didn’t go as planned. My condolences.” The rustling sounded again, with an added swishing. “Well, a few things have changed since you ran off. What if I told you I’m the only gang in the Icebox now?” Rhonda was quiet long enough that she prodded, “Guestbook?”
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said, even as her skin was crawling.
“You’re a wonderful conversationalist, as always--”
“Good night, Mimi, shut up.”
--
One night down and Rhonda’s muscles were already getting stiff, joints already starting to ache. The hottest the showers would go was just a shade less than lukewarm. A grid of pipes hung from the ceiling in the completely open shower area, a spraying spout at each intersection. Sixteen inmates could shower at once, but there was no privacy. Between being exposed and cold, Rhonda couldn’t get the goosebumps on her skin to lie flat. She tried to imagine the tepid water was just a light summer rain, one she might go dance in just so her husband would laugh and say she was ridiculous.
The showers were a dangerous place, surrounded by other wet, naked inmates, and Rhonda kept her eyes peeled the whole time, even when she got a little soap in them. Other inmates bumped into her or brushed close enough to slash her open if they’d managed to palm a shiv, but none of them gave her anything worse than a sidelong glare.
The towels managed to be both threadbare and scratchy. At one of the cubbies that lined the walls of the shower area, Rhonda scrubbed herself just dry enough that she wasn’t dripping, and yanked on her DMC-provided underwear, grey t-shirt, and yellow jumpsuit. Another inmate, a wiry man with stringy blond hair lazily walked toward the cubby next to hers. She slipped on her flimsy velcro shoes without her socks, ready to fight or run. Getting shanked wasn’t the only danger in this place.
“Tick tock, motherfucker,” the wiry man hissed. “We all know you’re gonna tell Mimi no. Hurry up so we can have some fun with you.” So they were waiting. Either Rhonda would make an arrangement with Mimi and the Vicious 13 and she would have a modicum of protection, or she wouldn’t, and the attack could come from anywhere at any time. How long would they wait? Hopefully she would have time to talk to Wade.
--
Rhonda had gotten to the mess hall with just enough time to get a tray and scarf down some breakfast. She found Wade and took a seat beside him. Between bites of the thinnest, most underdone waffle ever, she noted his fresh black eye. “What happened to you?”
“Oh this?” he laughed, “My cellie was practicing our secret handshake. You should see him.”
“Try not to get in any more fights,” Rhonda replied firmly. She nearly choked on the dregs as she took a swig of what they said was coffee. “We’re joining a gang.”
Wade guffawed loudly enough to make a few people briefly turn their heads and look. “My friend is hilarious!” he told them, waving them off, “Just - just an inside joke, don’t worry about it.” Then he lifted some of Rhonda’s damp hair so he could say low in her ear, “Did you already get kicked in the head? What are you thinking?”
She leaned away until he let go of her hair and grumbled, “I think our options are real fucking slim unless we get some kind of alliance, and I have an in.” She gave the quickest, most casual of glances past Wade to the end of the tables. “You see the snake with eyelashes?”
Wade gave a much more obvious glance, and even waved. Turning back to Rhonda, his eyes went wide in a bright smile. “She’s a giiirrl dragon!”
Rhonda finished her last bite of cold hash browns and shook her head. “I wouldn’t make any more Shrek jokes unless you plan on being the donkey who fucks her.”
#piotr rasputin x oc#colossus x oc#not a ghost#xmen fanfic#deadpool fanfic#longfic#multipart fic#angst#deadpool 2#colossus#piotr rasputin
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Fallon and Dom go urban exploring
“Fallon... get the hell out of there...”
Dom called into the abandoned building, waving his phone light into the darkness, hoping to see the idiotic man not far into the ruins.
But there was no luck and as the night grew colder and long Dom couldn’t help but worry that the sound of police sirens wouldn’t be that far away.
Fallon was into urban exploration, not that there was alot of abandoned places in town, around and out of the major population there was a few ruins that Fallon ‘basically lived in’.
Didn’t he know how dangerous these places could be? Dom had seen places like this in horror movies or in videos where some squatter was living or some satanic symbols were written on the walls.
Fallon was prime bait for a human sacrifice.
Dom couldn’t help but give a little chuckle to himself nervously, shuffling his feet from side to side before calling out to Fallon again.
No response.
Damn it he shouldn’t go in. But god damn if the thought of him leaving and hearing about a ‘Fallon Campbell’ in the news having... blown up or some terrible thing.
Dom slowly entered the house, knocking on the frame of the doorway nervously as he stepped over shards of glass and pieces of concrete.
“Ghosts... whatever... i’m just getting my dumbass friend don’t possess me or something. I’m just getting him out of your hair i’m the good guy here.” He whispered, beginning to search the rooms.
The walls were tattered, holes, chipping paint and graffiti everywhere. Names, symbols, a cheeky 666 or some ‘this way to candy land’ to a certain doorway making Dom’s hair stand on end.
Basically lived here, who the hell would spend so much time in this place like they owned it, this place was a death trap waiting to happen.
Dom gave a little grunt, avoiding some metal bars that jutted out of the wall and began to walk up a stair case.
“Fallon, you better show your face before I just... leave you for dead.”
As he entered the first doorway he saw Fallon standing in the corner of the room, flashlight on the ground. He didn’t move, face staying glued to the corner.
Dom’s blood grew cold, phone shaking in his hand as he took a step back.
“I’m not... an IDIOT, Fallon i’ve seen Blair Witch.”
No response.
Dom swore under his breath, knowing tha the was being played with but the small chance that it could not be a joke plagued his mind. The environment certainly didn’t help.
With a swift jump forward Dom reached out and twirled Fallon around, his fingers digging into the taller man’s shoulder as he stared into Fallon’s smirking face.
“OOOOOOOO~”
“That’s not funny Fallon, you shouldn’t even be here. Do you know how many things could go wrong? You could fall through the floor, uh-uh get asbestos in your lungs or something and that’s just if there’s not some sort of ... crazed person living here!”
“No one lives here, if anything I live here. Honestly I come here enough times that if any other explorer comes here they’ll think i’m the squatter. Don’t you think I fit the role of the spooky guy ready to shank you?” Fallon laughed, pushing Dom away as he continued to explore the place, ignoring Dom’s warning.
“You look as threatening as... some wanna be hacker, in a movie.”
“They could be threatening. Bank account? Gone. All your money, mine. Uh social security... known. Porn, downloaded into the hard drive, gonna play at the most inconvenient times. Like just... mid meeting i’m gonna play the hardest porn I can find, like... ‘Girl takes 5 cocks-’”
“Stop talking, stop... stop just...” Dom closed his eyes and began to rub temples as Fallon prattled on like an idiot about the ‘porno’ that would be playing and how it would just ruin Dom’s reputation.
It was surprising how well he was getting at blocking that out.
Fallon eventually trailed off as he looked at a piece of graffiti on the wall, giving a little roll of his eyes.
“Nice swastika, wow you wanna freaking... medal for the edge.” He muttered, taking out a spray paint can from a bag.
Dom squinted a bit at the crude graffiti before looking at Fallon in surprise
“Oh you do graffiti now too?”
“I mean... yes? No? It’s... up in the air, im not an artist. Honestly I just carry this shit around to mark dangerous locations or take care of shit like this. It’s always red or black, like no one carries any other color...” He muttered as he pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth and urged Dom to step away.
Dom did so and watched as he drew over the swastika, changing it into the windows logo and even writing ‘I love XP’ under it with a little laugh.
“Haha... oh it’s always fun to do that. Don’t breathe in the fumes.” He said and he popped the can back into his bag and continued to walk further into the ruins of the building.
Dom continued to stare at the new graffiti, a brow raising as he caught up to Fallon.
“You aren’t concerned that... that seemed new?”
“People come, people go, people spray shit on walls and leave. So no i’m not surprised that a couple of college kids would come in here and try to spook people by putting a few lines down to deter people away. Besides, spray paint in the eyes is just as good as pepper spray and twice as good for permanent blinding.”
“You are either psychotic or have stones the size of basketballs. I’m leaning towards you just not listening to that tiny voice in your head.”
“I listen to it. It’s just more fun then the one you have that’s got a perma stick up it’s ass. Come on let’s leave the fun way.”
“The fun way? What is there’s a waterslide made of glass and sewage? I can’t wait.”
Fallon waved his flash light around before flickering it in Dom’s face a couple of times.
“Woooah, funny funny man right here, give him a damn comedy special. No it’s jumping from the second story building into the mattress I put down.”
Fallon walked over to a window, who’s glass was completely broken and cleaned away and jumped out into the darkness below, causing Dom to scream and run to the window, calling him an idiot as he looked at Fallon standing on a mattress before, giggling like a complete idiot.
“I’m fine, I just... I literally told you there was a mattress come on man, it’s only SLIGHTLY bad for the knees. Though for you it might blow them out completely.” He teased.
“You are wrong, my knees are... very sturdy but im not fucking jumping.”
“Ok... then just go back the way you came, through the spooky abandoned house. You know the one you thought that had people living in it with their spooky spray paint and shivs and are probably like... super satanists.”
Dom paused, looking back in the dark house, the wind creaking the floorboards and causing him to shrink a bit.
“Jump you dumb bitch! Dude it’s not even that hard! JUMP, JUMP, JUMP ,JUMP-”
“ONCE. I’M DOING IT ONCE. You tell anyone and i’ll... I don’t know i’ll... do something though.”
Fallon took a few steps back, quoting about ‘doing a superhero landing’. Meanwhile on the inside of the house Dom was swearing to himself, talking about how he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He slicked his hair back a few times, checking the window for any extra shards of glass before sliding out, and ungracefully jumping down to the mattress below, earning a deep grunt as he tried to stand back up.
Fallon was clapping and laughing , placing a hand on Dom’s shoulder as he helped him off the mattress.
“Hey nicely done, you didn’t split your head open or anything! Another inch of that stick in your ass is slowly sliding out-”
“I really wish you didn’t put it like that...”
“Yeah i know you know and that’s why I do it. Alright... take me home and be the good little rule follower you are. Let it be known that Dom Rose King has apprehended the villainous Fallon and stopped his antics, and now he can sleep soundly knowing that the big bad Fallon got out of the spooky house okay dokie.” Fallon began to tease, earning a tight grip of his shoulder with Dom’s strong hand
“Just for once... just shut up.”
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Baby’s 2014 TOI interview..
Sidharth Shukla, 33, is simple, honest, helpful and vain. Extremely popular as the Shiv of Balika Vadhu, he has bagged a three-film contract with Karan Johar and is awaiting the release of his first film 'Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania'. Over an hour-long conversation with Bombay Times, he talks about his godfather Karan Johar, his friend Amit Shirodkar, who changed his life, and why he would do anything in the world for his mother. Excerpts:
How did you get into television?
We are Brahmins originally from Allahabad, but I was born and brought up in Mumbai. My father was a civil engineer employed with the Reserve Bank of India. I thought I was a big waste and would not be able to do anything in life and had no clue what I would do, till I met Amit Shirodkar while giving my tenth board exams. He was sitting next to me and I found him liberally copying from me.
All through the exams he copied and passed and we parted ways. Later, one day, I was passing him on the street and stopped to remind him that I was the guy he had copied from and how he owed his passing to me. We became best friends and for the next three years, my life just revolved around his. His father was an interior designer and he told me, ‘Sidharth, you don’t feel scared, my father has his interiors business and I am starting interiors, so you just be with me.’ I was thrilled. Amit was just 19, when he died all of sudden in a bike accident and I was devastated. The accident happened on a Saturday and he went into coma. On Sunday evening, his mother came to my building running, surprised that I had not come to see Amit in hospital, despite supposedly being with him on the evening when he met with an accident. Amit was a full- on party person, whereas I was considered a seedha boy by his mother who had permitted him to go that night as he said that he was going with me. I rushed to the hospital, but lost Amit the next day.
You might find it uncanny, but recently I was with Aunty (Amit’s mother) on Mother’s Day and she said to me, ‘Sidharth, I never left the side of Amit in hospital so I did not come to your building.’ I still can’t figure out then how I came to know that day about Amit’s accident. Either she has forgotten or I can’t understand it. Amit anyways got me into interiors and he would tell me, ‘I will do everything. You just sit around.’ I, of course, knew that it would be the other way round, where I would be working and he would be chilling. But I miss him a lot. There is a lot in life that I learnt from him. For instance, he would do these small things, like feeding beggars at Haji Ali with the extra money he had. That is something that does not come to a 19- year-old boy on his own without his parents asking him to do so. I learnt how to help other people from him. He was also the one who first took me to a club. It was an afternoon and those days, the clubs would be dark with neon lights. Since it was my first time, I missed seeing the low seating and fell down. After Amit’s passing away, I did the interiors course and worked with his father for a couple of years. He was very nice to me and his family till date is my second family. Right from the time I can remember I have been vain, looking at myself in the mirror thinking I was the best thing that had happened. My sisters would always be watching models on TV and I would always want them to someday watch me. I was skinny, so started working out to build my body to become strong. My mom told me, ‘Tu itni herogiri karta hai building mein, why don’t you participate in this Cuffe Parade fashion contest?’ I didn’t want to as I didn’t want to lose, but still agreed. I did lose the contest, but, surprisingly, got selected for the Pantaloons ad campaign, which was the gratification for winning the contest. I then started modelling and became the first runner-up in a national manhunt contest. I had not taken my mother along as I didn’t want her to be disappointed if I lost. I was disheartened that I had not come first, as I desperately wanted to win it. But then I became the first Asian to win the Best Model in the World contest and till date, no one has ever won it. I travelled out of the country for the first time and was a part of many ad commercials, till I got my first break on television.
What led to your transformation from being a wasted person to being so focused?
I lost my father in 2005 just after winning the national manhunt contest. I was just 25 then. Not that I felt any major pressure personally before that, but I suddenly became the man of the house. I had two elder sisters who were married, but did not want to burden my mother. I love her the most in the world. After my father I have become closer to her, as she has had to go through a lot of hard times. He died due to a lung disorder due to smoking and had been ill for the last seven years of his life. But he worked till his last day and I think he was working only because of me, as I was the only unsettled person in the family. I was doing nothing in my life. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do as there was nothing concrete I was doing till then. My dad never had a lot of money, but the best part is that he never made me feel that. In his entire life, I don’t think he would have worn clothes including his shoes, for more than `2,000, but if I wanted to wear a jeans for `2,000, he would somehow ensure that I got it without me knowing. I know all that he has done for me. I realise today that I was just living in my own world at that time and was quite oblivious to what he was going through. Being the youngest, I was always protected, so money problems never came to me. It hurts me a lot now, but, at that time, I didn’t realise. There was a time when he also had cancer which got cured. But he would get chemo done and come back home by a bus, whereas I would move around in a taxi. We didn’t have a car at that time and got one only later when my sisters started working. My father saw my first commercial, but he died after that. I strongly believe that it was his blessings that made me win the Best Model of the World contest. I cry a lot remembering him. I remember when my first print ad appeared, he would keep all the cuttings of the newspaper in his pocket. He used to love watching TV and I know he would have been thrilled to see me as Shiv in Balika Vadhu. After my father, I have done everything I could do for my mother. From being a complete waste, I transformed to being hard-working. My mother is very religious and she wanted to visit all the four dhaams and Mansarovar. I ensured she went everywhere and also went along with her to three of the four dhaams. Of course, she would want me to express my appreciation for her more than I do, but I will do anything to make her happy. From my first earnings, I took her out to dinner. And like all mothers she looked at the rates on the menu and ordered the cheapest item. All my life I had looked at the menu and ordered the most expensive item while growing up. I want the best for her and love her the most in the world.
How did you get a role in Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania?
I was on the last season of Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa, where Karan was the judge. He liked me and called me. Karan Johar calling you was a big thing and the first time he called me, I couldn’t believe it. He is very grounded and is so real. From the outside when you see him, you feel that he is this huge mountain, but actually he is such a plateau and is so easy to talk to. He has no hangups and he doesn’t feel superior in any way. I can have a conversation with him without offending him and can speak anything to him. Karan Johar is like Narendra Modi in my life because I feel ab achche din aane waale hain.
[X]
#sidharth shukla#magazine#interview excerpt#times of india#when baby was a baby#so honest and humble#why i love this man
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