#dating Siobhan Roy would be like…

[wambsgansshoelaces]

blurb six!!! I’m sorry I’m taking so long :,)

Shameless

Siobhan Roy x Reader

prompt: “maybe something about shiv coming out to her family and revealing her relationship with you”

this one was cutesy I think. I really hope you love it!!!! enjoy and thank you so much for requesting, ilyyy <3

Word Count: 730

“I’m sorry, but we can’t go together.”

You make a face at your girlfriend. “Come on, Shiv. Really? It’s been a year.”

She pouts back at you. The two of you had fallen head over heels for each other the minute you’d met. It was like it was straight out of a movie- you’d run into her head-on at work, causing both of you to spill everything you’d been holding. Feeling extremely bad, you’d gotten onto your hands and knees and began gathering up her things. When you’d looked up to hand the stack of papers back to her, she was already staring down at you, face pink, expression bashful.

You’d begun seeing each other in secret. You’re both girls, and you both had your reservations about letting the public know you were involved romantically. In the beginning, you’d completely understood and even agreed with her when she’d asked you to stay quiet about the two of you to her family, especially her father. It made sense to you- you’d never been accepted for your identity. You knew the fear of what would happen to you after coming out all to well. How could you blame her?

By now, you’d at least expected her to tell her siblings. At least. You couldn’t go on dates in public, she distanced herself from you at work things, you could never be her date at galas. You’re caught in a difficult place. You understand the hesitation, but when would it become *too much hesitation? When would you hit your limit?

“I want to take you. I want to be with you the entire fucking night, but I can’t,” she insists. You just stare at her, gaze imploring. “It’ll be too much.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” you ask bluntly.

She blinks, taken aback. “No, of course not!”

“Because you’re going to have to tell everyone at some point. What, you want to do this forever?” you ask exasperatedly, gesturing between the two of you. “Gallivanting around in secret? Not being able to go out to dinner with the love of my life because she’s too worried people will *see us together?”

Maybe you were being too harsh, but you were beginning to be fed up.

“I just- I’m not ashamed that I’m with a woman. I’m proud. I’m really happy that I’m with you, you know that.”

“You just don’t act like it.” She opens her mouth to argue back, but she decides against whatever it is she’s about to say. Instead, she sighs, dropping her face into her hands. Immediately, you scoot across the couch so that you’re pressed right up against her. She drops her head onto your shoulder, and you press a kiss into her hair. “Listen. I’m being too mean about it, and I’m sorry. Can we compromise, at least?”

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “No, no compromise. You’re right. This isn’t fair to you, or to me, really.” She turns her head to ghost a kiss over your shoulder. “We’ll go together.”

You give her a kiss before she leaves, and she returns it desperately with the whispered promise of her prescience by your side the entire night. She has to go early to make sure everything is running smoothly, as she’s technically the host through her father.

When you arrive at the gala, you relish the look on her face when she first sees you. Her entire expression lifts, brightness suddenly seeping into her eyes. Her gaze flits up and down your body, her mouth curling into a smile.

You make your way to her side, where her hand is already open and waiting for yours. Your fingers lace together. “I told Kendall and Roman you’d be here with me. Like, as my girlfriend.”

“I’m glad.” You give her hand an encouraging squeeze. It’s all stepping in the right direction, and you’re proud of her. “You look very pretty.”

“You think so?” she asks, blush spreading over her cheeks. “I tried dressing up all nice just for you.”

“Really? You're so adorable. I love you, you know.”

“Yeah, really. No shame, remember?” She plants a kiss on your cheek. “And I love you more.”

She punctuates her sentence with a kiss to your lips, long and deep, affectionate and loving.

It's only the morning after that you realize that she made sure her father saw.

[aprilthearcher]

burning red [roman roy x reader]

word count: 1.8k

[somewhat angst]

warnings: curse words, ooc roman ?, english is not my first language, not edited, rushed ending.

a/n: somewhat inspired by “red” and “false god” by taylor, idk i was just listening to these two songs on loop. i’m also supposed to be studying, but instead i wrote this, so enjoy! love me some greg sprinkles, couldn’t not include him. alsooo, this could read as being part of the same story as my previous roman blurb, but you won't have any problems if you haven't read it.

Loving Roman was complicated yet insanely easy, too tiresome at times and then incredibly invigorating. He had that effect on people, or maybe just her. Everyone else was probably too complicated for her to like. Not funny enough, not witty or smart enough, not loud enough. No one was Roman enough, not even across the whole damn world. 

Getting him off her mind had been more difficult than she’d expected, probably because (Y/N) only realised her feelings for him after she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had taken over her whole body without knowing. It was Roman’s lips she imagined when kissing blonde, ginger, brunette guys at pubs; it were Roman’s eyes she thought of when her friends would ask her about her favourite colour; it was Roman’s face she conjured up in her head when they’d ask about her type of man. 

At first, she believed it to be some sort of sick joke the Universe was trying to play on her: discovering she had feelings for her long-time friend — one she’d known since they were in diapers, who would grab her by her ponytail whenever she was paying attention to his siblings instead of him (just him) —, barely two or three weeks in her first year of university, a university that was on a whole other continent, separated by an entire ocean. Still, (Y/N) knew she could fly back home in a couple of hours — “I’ll arrange a jet for you if you wanna come down”, her dad would always say over the phone —, but the idea of seeing him again with this new information in her head and heart (that couldn’t help but jump at the mention of him) terrified her.

Her mind would make her remember him and his antics in the worst possible times: while dancing with some random guy at a club, his hands on her hips, the cheap cologne contrasting the rich scented one Roman couldn’t get enough of. On a first date, set up by her friends who believed she had to let go of this “prude” behaviour and just let someone take her to their bed. When joking with the guys that approached her and her friends at the bar, knowing exactly what Roman would think of them, the cruel comments he’d throw, the silly faces. The soft eyes when they were both too drunk to even speak a coherent sentence, although most times nothing was coherent with Roman. She had tried looking for those same bright eyes; once more, she ended up disappointed. None of them were Roman. None of them ever will be, no matter how much (Y/N) tried to shape them into a replica of him. All of Roman was unique. 

Hence, the dreadful turmoil inside her stomach once Shiv, with some tint of malice in her eyes directed at Roman, introduced her to Tabitha. “Roman’s companion”, she’d said. The blonde, curly haired woman greeted (Y/N) with an eager smile on her face. She said her name at the same time both of them shook hands. A voice inside her head told her this was all wrong. How long? Where did it happen? Why? Why? Why now that she was back?

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me your name,” Tabitha mentioned playfully, a short roll of her eyes a second later. “You’re all Roman’s been talking about lately”.

“Only lately?” Shiv laughed, taking a sip from her glass she focused her eyes on Roman , then (Y/N). “Roman’s always talking about (Y/N). I mean, he was practically her lap dog when they were children.”

“Oh, fuck off Siobhan,” Roman bark back.

“Well, he only mentioned you as of now.” The knot in her stomach tightened. The worst part was she could see Tabitha hadn’t said it out of spite, nor jealousy, but as a fleeting comment to add something more to the conversation.

He hadn’t mentioned her to Tabitha? Not even once? She had tried everything to block him out of her head, to keep him out of her dreams and fantasies; to catch herself every time she was going to bring up him in a conversation again, and he didn’t say her name until he found out (Y/N) was coming back to New York? What kind of sick fuck was he? What kind of sick fuck was she, devoting probably her whole life to Roman fucking Roy?

“Oh,” (Y/N) managed to croak out before her father appeared beside her and whispered in her ear that she should spend some time chatting with the other guests.

                                                       * * *

Cousin Greg was great company, quite weird before you took in the awkwardness that seemed to surround him and make him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of all these old, rich people, but great nonetheless. He had asked her about her years in London, what she studied and what she did for fun, her friends and hobbies. (Y/N) found herself enjoying the night, sitting on a couch by his side, meanwhile both of their cheeks were getting rosier and rosier with every new cup of alcohol brought to them. Greg was in the middle of telling her about how he had screwed up the first day at his job on one of the parks owned by Waystar, cracking up from time to time from how she tried to hide her laugh in order to keep the attention away from them, when two hands settled on his shoulders, hard and making a noise that was apparent that the gesture was meant to at least hurt him a little. Roman was behind him with a clench jaw and big, maniac eyes. 

“Greeeg, I think Tom was looking for you, man”.

“Oh, really?” Greg turned his upper body in Roman’s direction, which from the side looked somewhat weird because of his tall, lanky form. “Because, because I just saw him and he didn’t say anything”.

“Yes, oh really, man. And he said if you didn’t go talk to him right now, he would fire your sorry ass”.

Greg was on his feet quicker than she'd expected after seeing him drown glass after glass with her. He towered over her for a moment, saying a quick “see you later” before going in search of Tom. 

“You’re mean, Roman”.

“Yeah, well, tell me something I don’t fucking know”. 

They fell silent for a second. Around them, people were still in mindless conversation, setting down empty cups on the waiter’s tray while picking up new ones from another one. Alcohol seemed to be the only way to survive a family gathering at the Roy’s, even a harmless one. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Roman asked. She turned her head to the right to face him, he was already looking at her. His eyes no longer had the maniac fog blurring them, there was now a tranquil pool of honey.

                                                    ***

“My dad is probably gonna be mad if he finds out I ditched the party”.

“Please, (Y/N), since when did you become such a goody two shoes?” Roman leaned against the railing of the terrace, following her with his eyes while she approached him and finally set her elbows on top of the banister. From this position, he looked taller. “Don’t tell me you were like this in London. I mean, with no one to hover over you, you sure had a looot to do, didn’t you?”

“I went to London to study, remember? Not to go out and get drunk every night.”

“Well, I’m sure if you had been with me, you could’ve done both.”

“Yeah, probably, but you weren’t with me.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyebrows raised.

“Are you saying it was my fault? We haven’t seen each other for how long and it was all my fault?”

“Why are you acting like it isn’t? It literally is, (Y/N), you left m.. you left and, and you never came back.” He had walked a few steps away from her. 

“It’s not like you couldn’t have visited, Roman. Just ask daddy for one of his jets, it’s literally that easy.”

“Yes, but - but you left, (Y/N). You left, and it’s not like you chose some university a state away, you chose one a whole continent away! That’s got to mean something!”

“As if Roman fucking Roy couldn’t get one goddamn plane and fly over to London!” She had abandoned her previous position, now fully facing Roman, who was still a couple of feet away, getting closer to the door. He was trying to run, just like it he always did whenever they fought.

“I didn’t - I didn’t want you to get annoyed by me! To realise what a true moron I was. Then you barely talked to me after you arrived at your fancy university and - and started your very difficult subjects.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes in confusion for a moment. Though it was easier to throw everything at him, (Y/N) knew that she was also responsible for their lack of communication over these last years. 

Only the bustling, almost never-ending nightlife of New York could be heard. Her chest hurted, her eyes would fill with tears at any point now. She was tired and drunk, and just fucking missed Roman too much for them to be fighting the first night she was back in the city.

“Now you are not saying anything?” Roman broke the silence. He was closer to the door, she noticed. “You know what? Fuck you, (Y/N). Fuck you for making feel all this – all this fucking, fucking shit!”

“What fucking shit?” She asked quietly, desperate for an answer, the answer.

“I - I don’t know what fucking shit, just shit, okay?”

“Say it.”

Roman didn’t respond, instead he turned her back on her, walking towards the door. Before he could reach the handle, she screamed at him.

“Fucking say it, Roman.”

“I’ve just told you, I don’t know. It’s just shit, okay? All of it,” he screamed back, opening up his arms, exaggerating his point. “I - I run out of breath and then my chest is all funny, and and I hate seeing you laughing with fucking Greg of all people. It’s shit, fucking shit!”

Drawing closer to him, she tested his limits. He was breathing hard from all the screaming and moving around the terrace to put distance between them, but he didn’t stop when (Y/N) got so close their bodies were almost touching. It was her with whom physical closeness wasn’t a problem, he always told himself it was because of how close they were pretty much their whole lives.

They only looked at each other for a few moments, the waves of conflict had calmed down fast and efficiently enough that for anyone else it would seem like nothing had happened between them. 

Roman wished — deep, deep down — that they could stay like this forever, without having to go back and confront his family, especially his father; that they could make this terrace, above Logan’s place ironically enough, a little haven, only for them; that they would never be found.

[powderblueblood]

"I've dated enough narcissistically neurotic men to know that you are all just a pack of roving babies in search of a giant teat from which to suck the lifeblood out of me until I am a hollow shell."

i cannot read “narcissistically neurotic” and not immediately think of my silly little prince roman roy </3 do your worst!

200 CIGARETTES SENTENCE PROMPTS!

"sure those teats aren't tapped out already? because if you ask me, they're sagging."

"jesus christ, roman."

his nasally voice is tight through the inhale of a joint. "drained."

"can you--"

"arid. bet all that's in there is like, a puff of powdered milk from desert storm."

the two of you are sitting on the most accessible patio in this bougie nightmare of a fifth acquired property of kendall's or siobhan's or connor's or whoever's, you've lost track because it's the upper east side and everything looks the fucking same up here. same chrome elevators, same cold grey interiors, same doormen, same perverts.

unfortunately, since kendall is sober and siobhan's... mean, that means said pervert is the only one that's holding. the only one that's going to help you pass the time until the new years' countdown.

which, of course, the roys won't engage in because they don't engage in anything fun. except for, apparently, roman.

"don't bogart that." you snatch the joint from him. this is not the way you should be conducting yourself in front of your boss's brother, but roman inspires informality.

"bogart? fuck me, third eye blind, you gonna pull out a hacky sack next? is that what you've been stuffing your bra with?" roman's leaning over the patio chair, occupying space that would otherwise be personal. his eyes are mostly trained to your chest because he's a kid, he's a boy, he's a thirty-something tragicomedy pretending to be a man, but he's kind of funny. and he has good weed.

"you've been too busy looking at my cleavage--"

"what little there is of it."

--to notice i called you a narcissistic neurotic."

"your libfem self diag-nonsense won't work on me, wench. show me your tits."

[grandeurss]

𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝        penn  badgley,  37,  cis  man,  he  +  him.    announcing  the  arrival  of  BENEDICT  of  house  BLACKWOOD,  the  LORD  of  RAVENTREE  HALL.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  COMMITTED  and  MISGUIDED  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  stewardship.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  countless  ravens  taking  flight  despite  uncertain,  stormy  weather  ;  a fist,  clenched  ever  so  tightly,  doing  little  to  hide  the  simmering  anger  underneath  ;  ghosts  haunting  the  castle  walls,  crying  about  the  ways  you’ll  disappoint  them  next.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  HOUSE  BLACKWOOD.

statistics… 

# basic information.

official  name:  benedict blackwood.  nicknames:  ben.  noble  title:  lord benedict of house blackwood, heir of raventree hall.  date  of  birth:  17th of the 2nd moon, 812 AC.  age:  thirty-seven.  birthplace:  raventree hall.  home:  raventree hall.  nationality:  westerosi.  gender:  cis man.  pronouns:  he + him.  orientation:  bisexual.  monikers:  ...  languages:  common.  accent:  a riverlanders accent with a hint of a northerner's lilt that he got from his mother.

# physical information.

faceclaim:  penn badgley.  ethnicity:  first men + andal.  hair:  dark and shaggy like his father’s, gray hairs sprouting at his temple.  eyes:  dark brown.  height:  6 ft., 2 in.  build:  slender and lean.  scent:  plain and uninteresting from hours spent inside council chambers.  dominant  hand:  right.  allergies:  fur and dander and brackens.  scars:  one near his elbow from a time when his father used to take him hunting.  distinguishing  features:  dark features and creases near his brows made from frowning far too often.  clothing  style:  royal vestments, complete with a cape made of raven feathers, in the colours of house blackwood–black and red. 

# personality.

label:   the headstrong, the fool, the hot-head.   mbti:   istj, the logician.   enneagram:   type 1, the reformer.   element:   air.   star   sign:   aquarius.   temperament:   melancholic.   character   inspirations:   carmy berzatto (the bear), chidi anagonye (the good place), stannis baratheon (asoiaf), siobhan roy (succession).   deadly   sin:   wrath, pride.   heavenly   virtue:   diligence.   godly   parent:   hermes.

# drives.

hobbies:  stewardship, archery, animal handling.  religion:  the old gods.  alliance:  house blackwood.  personal goals:  to rule over raventree hall and put an end to the brackens.  would they choose family or power?  family.

# familial ties.

parent one:  ruling lord robin blackwood.  relationship:  once overbearing, now resentful as his illness has forced ben to take over his duties alongside his second wife.  parent two:  former ruling lady mya blackwood nee flint. relationship:  loving and warm, though short-lived as she died when ben was young.  spouse:  tbd. relationship:  tba.  sibling(s):  lord/lady/liege utp blackwood. relationship:  tba.  sibling:  robert blackwood, bastard of the ruling lord. relationship:  he and his brother have a contentious relationship, especially since they were often pitted against each other as children. still, ben loves him deeply. robert was sent to the wall just before his father's accident and, though he might not admit it, he does miss his brother more than ever.

  narrative...

blackwood: heard so often and in such high esteem in the halls of raventree that one would think that a given name held no importance at all. at least, that’s what the heir apparent believed for the better part of his childhood. having plucked lord robin from obscurity, is it not right to return the favour? what use did he have for his old one? house blackwood had carried on for countless generations and would continue to do so for many more. family legacy, above all else, was paramount

benedict blackwood, above all else, was a stain on this precious legacy. too unstable, too temperamental, too sullen—servants would whisper that his mood could turn just as quickly as the weather. whether it be fights with stable boys or hours spent hiding out in the woods from the maester, ben was was notorious for the headaches he caused at raventree. though his father tried to instill the expectations of his title, it was clear that ben had no interest in such pursuits. the two fought over his careless disposition while ben would say that his father was far too overbearing in his ways

difficult as he was, ben found solace with his mother. unlike the heavy hand his father dealt, lady mya was kinder and gentler than he thought anyone could be. despite ben’s outbursts, despite the bastard that lord robin had brought into their household, despite the immense pressure she was under—despite, despite, despite—despite everything, his mother was patient as she was loving 

following her passing after a dire illness, house blackwood went into a period of mourning. not only had they lost their matriarch, but the family had fallen into completely disarray. though his mother and father might not have had the best relationship, the small claims that she managed had all been overlooked. none of this mattered to ben. instead, he lost the only person able to calm his worries and keep his father at bay. in an effort to honour his mother’s memory, ben molded himself into the very person he hated all to appease the only parent he had left. he began to look after his siblings, as his mother would, and he had learned to temper his anger, letting it fester beneath like the good son he was

even so, his father dismissed his efforts altogether. how was he to believe that the boy who had only ever looked at him with disdain was a changed man seemingly overnight? no matter how much ben tried to involve himself with house affairs, lord robin acted as if he were nothing but a fly buzzing in his ear. he would undermine his son at every opportunity, disappointment as clear as day

whatever thoughts he had about his father’s marriage to his second wife, ben kept to himself. he was desperate to get back into the good graces of his father—a part of him wanting to prove him wrong, that he could be a proper heir to house blackwood and the other hoping that he could prove to himself that he was just as capable of greatness. when his father proposed a betrothal to the brackens, scum that they are, ben bit his tongue. surely, a good lord knows when to think of the realm, not himself. it was a sacrifice he was willing to make, even if it meant being a piece in his father’s game

it was only when his brother, robert, was sent to the wall that ben had the nerve to speak out against him. bastard or not, ben had loved him just the same. through all the years he put in as their heir, it was then that he decided that he would gladly give up his title. what good was it if it came at the expense of his loved ones? just as he had worked up the courage to stand up to his father, his men had informed him of the life-threatening fall lord robin had taken off of his steed. ben would have laughed at the idea of the great ruling lord from house blackwood sent to his deathbed from such a trivial accident if it weren’t for the advisors looking to him for guidance

with no other option, ben was thrust into the position despite, despite, despite his reluctance. of course, it became an open secret that lord robin has been missing in action for quite some time. though they are trying to hide any speculation concerning his health, this has created a power vacuum between him and the ruling lord’s second wife that has made house blackwood vulnerable to their enemies–namely, the brackens. their rivals have since encroached upon their holdings bringing hostilities to a tipping point. the betrothal between ben and the liege from bracken has been broken and the smallfolk speak of a war between the two houses that is to come 

ben, on the other hand, wants nothing more than a moment of quiet. with his father’s wife testing his patience and advisors circling him for answers, it’s been a struggle for ben to keep it together. worse still with brackens amassing their armies at his door. conflicted as ever, ben wonders if his father was right: does he really have what it takes to hold the blackwood name?

# wanted  connections.

ruling lord robin’s second wife:  step-mom of all step-moms. the two cannot get along despite the fact that they are trying to make it seem like things are fine. behind the scenes, they are constantly bickering about how raventree hall should be run and will go behind the other’s back to get everyone else on their side.

siblings: chaotic and messy. as if he didn’t have enough on his plate, ben often finds himself struggling to keep his brothers and sisters in check. members of house blackwood are said to have special abilities that have been passed down through generations. ben doesn’t have any to speak of, but he’s quietly wary of his siblings that do.

former betrothed:  a lord/lady/liege from house bracken. the rival houses had reached a boiling point over disputes in trade and the ruling lords came to an agreement to marry the two houses to put an end to the hostilities. however, lord robin’s absence from court gave house bracken the opportunity to encroach upon house blackwood’s lands yet again. the betrothal with ben and the member from house bracken was broken and both sides have started to slowly amass their armies and prepare their banners.

page/squire: a former page/squire of house blackwood or vice versa. around the age of 6-8, children from noble houses are sometimes sent to be fostered to train under the tutelage of a knight for a few years. ben could have been fostered under your house or they could have been sent to raventree hall to be a squire under lord robin. they would have known each other as children before they were sent back to their respective houses.

intrigue and espionage: “they come at dusk and roost all night. hundreds of them. they cover the tree like black leaves, every limb and every branch.” home to countless ravens, it is not uncommon that a messenger raven comes to roost at raventree hall’s great weirwood. perhaps a secret or two of yours might have slipped and landed on the ears of the ruling lord and his advisors. it is a practice that the family frowns upon, of course, and they are sure to use it sparingly… so long as they can get their way. the crown and their web of spies might have their little birds, but so does house blackwood.

[goaskgreg]

Your boss Tom is kinda hot. Looks a little like Mr. Darcy, could you hook us up or smthg?

First of all: hi, hello, thank you for being the first "anon" to ask me a question! even though it's kind of not about me at all?

second, um. Yeah you're right he does kind of look like Mr. Darcy, never really noticed that. huh. kind of uncanny really. Um, I will refrain from commenting on whether or not he is "hot" as i feel that's a tough one to navigate around with our boss-employee relationship as it were. don't want HR calling haha. not that i do anyway.

also, insofar as "hooking you up" with him, well. Tom Wambsgans is happily married to my cousin Siobhan Roy and if you are insinuating that he has any martial problems or is open to dating, you would be wrong in thinking that.

um otherwise though like if you're looking to be friends? i guess? @talktotom i have a lovely anon here that thinks you're a looker. she didn't leave any contact details so i'm uncertain how you'd chat further but.... yeah.... also i guess i shouldn't assume she's a she. maybe they. maybe he. kinda heteronormative me to make that assumption, sorry. anyway.

anon if you want to hit Tom up feel free.

[egg2k16]

I feel like!!! Shiv was set up to be like her father, but then was relegated to becoming her mother

I think she intentionally set out to be like Logan, ambitious, power-hungry, a good businessman. That's why she was so hellbent on becoming president of the company, or at least holding some viable power as a co-CEO. This also explains some habits of hers, very easily abandoning n backstabbing her siblings bcus that's what Logan did to his children – he never really loved them, only caring in a duty-honoring facility, that made it easy for him to essentially leave them behind himself (Connor didn't see him for 3 yrs, he stopped Ken from becoming CEO during the gala, Shiv's politics getting in his way, always insulting Roman, etc)

Monkey see, monkey do, especially in the way that Shiv's always trying to prove herself to her family that she's capable. She's...not. She knows politics bcus that's what she decided to specialize in, but bcus of that, doesn't know how to maintain a poker face or a bluff, which is why every time she's tried to backstab her family for her own gain, it always backfires on her

I think one of her most important saving graces growing up, not being relegated totally to the shadows, being allowed to pursue politics (esp those contrarian to Logan's own personal political views), stems from the fact that she is Logan's only daughter. Daddy's little girl

She has so much tension w her mom I think bcus of it. Logan preferred Shiv over Caroline, n Caroline – we know she was always a bad mother, never really had it in her – but her specific jabs at Shiv were always so direct n open compared to her treatment of her sons, the sons she preferred (really, she preferred Roman). They always bite at each other over Shiv's childhood, n when Caroline notices she's pregnant, she makes snide remarks about Shiv being a mother. Tom wants a child w Shiv, but even he called her out on not being...the best option

Even pregnant, Shiv didn't stop chasing power, bcus she thinks she's deserving of that power, that it should all be hers hers hers. Daddy's special girl as the only thing she could've become in life, n she's trying so hard to prove herself as Siobhan Roy, as much Roy (n therefore, w as much capacity) as Kendall. Kendall, whose middle name is Logan. The presumed heir

Logan had at least five women in his life: 1st wife (Connor's mom), Caroline (2nd wife), Sally-Anne (secretary during Caroline's tenure), Marcia (3rd wife), Rhea (PGM CEO), Kerry (secretary during Marcia's tenure)

Shiv has had at least two affairs during her marriage w Tom: Nate (up to her wedding date) and Angel (one of Willa's actor friends)

She doesn't realize that Tom is solid, n would never actually go behind her back w someone else, even w a never fully defined hall pass of an open relationship. Lukas says he thinks, if things were different, he n Shiv would hook up. To Tom

Shiv uses her pregnancy as leverage against Tom, initially to get him to do what she wants during the election night/get him back on a shorter leash. (She later tries using it as leverage to keep him married to her, "finally falling in love with me"). She does everything she can to gain power, at least as Lukas' puppet leader in his proposed North American branch. But Lukas knows she doesn't have the knowledge necessary to act as a puppet, n trusts the role to Tom, known puppet doll

Bcus of Tom gaining power over Shiv, for the first time in his life, Shiv is relegated to the backseat. It's not the first time this has happened to her, but it's the first time that she understands it's a bit more permanent now. She's seemingly going to take the pregnancy to term. (And she's stated multiple times that she's gonna leave the baby alone, much like her own mother did). She's also apparently accepting her new role in life, as Tom's wife. She doesn't fully enjoy it, seeing as how she doesn't hold his hand, only lightly touching it

Shiv was set up to be the new Logan of the family, but Ken beat her to the punch. Unfortunately for Ken, n more or less thankfully for the family, Ken will never be allowed to be the new Logan of the family, bcus they are all destined to be losers, so long as they continue w the family n its ways

[the-west-meadow]

All the Wine

Tom Wambsgans x Reader (warning: very NSFW. 18+ only)

Thanksgiving morning was cold and clear. The light pained Tom’s eyes as he awoke with a sense of excited dread. The thought of spending the day with the Roys was almost too much to bear. He wanted to pull the covers over his head and sleep for a thousand years. Instead, he slowly unwrapped himself from the sheets and planted his bare feet on the floor.

Siobhan was absent from the bed. After several moments of empty silence, he felt the gnawing pain start in the pit of his chest. This was his cue to get up and distract himself from the feeling that threatened to consume him.

She was in the kitchen with coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, already dressed. Her eyes flickered up at him as he entered the room.

“Hey honey,” she said in a high, false voice. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he murmured, pouring coffee. He leaned against the counter in his boxers and t-shirt, cradling the mug in his hands. Her eyes went back to her phone. When she didn’t say anything further, he left the room.

He dressed in a soft black cashmere turtleneck, wool pants, the shiny black Saint Laurent shoes, and the heavy Armani peacoat that reached almost to his knees. The warm, soft fabric embraced him, his only comfort.

Hands in his pockets, bundled in a scarf, he slid into the back seat of the car beside Shiv. They hummed towards Logan’s townhouse as Tom systematically built the mental walls that would help him survive this day.

Logan’s townhouse was stiflingly warm. Marcia greeted them right away. Standing nearby was Greg. When Tom saw who accompanied him, his heart jumped.

You were standing there in a short-sleeved velvet dress that reached midway down your thighs, wrapped in black tights. For a moment, Tom couldn’t move, caught in your gaze. Then Greg went in for a handshake that turned into a hug.

“Happy Thanksgiving, man.”

Tom then put a hand on your shoulder, bent down and swiftly kissed you on the cheek in greeting. The brush of velvet against his skin sent a thrill through him. He let you go and stepped back.

“Look at you, Greg,” he said. “Bringing the most eligible bachelorette in the office to Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, I think this is just a friend situation,” Greg said, but looked at you questioningly. You just smiled, noncommittal.

“Better fill yourselves with wine before it runs out,” Tom said.

“Is that a possibility?” Greg said, looking worriedly towards the kitchen.

“Don’t stick around to find out,” Tom said, and headed into the kitchen with his head reeling.

He poured a large glass of rosé and downed half of it immediately. Roman sidled up beside him with a fluted glass of white wine in his hand.

“You look miserable,” Roman said.

“Thanks. Happy Thanksgiving.”

He folded his arms and eyed Tom.

“Tom, are you getting laid?”

Tom shot him a surprised look. “Why do you want to know?”

“Honestly, I don’t. But you look like shit and I’m trying to rule things out.”

“Well, I’m sure your sister wouldn’t want me talking about it with you.”

“This is sounding like a no. Doesn’t it piss you off, being surrounded by happy couples, all of whom are fucking regularly?”

“I try not to think about it.”

“But you know you do. Everyone’s going to go home after this and get it on.”

Tom rubbed his temple lightly with his forefinger. “Thanks for that image.”

“Check out Greg’s date. Who is she?”

“She works for us. You see her every day.”

“I don’t pay attention to these things. I just want to see you happy, Tom. You should think about changing your situation.”

He raised his eyebrows and walked off, sipping his wine. Tom then saw you enter the room with Greg. Again your eyes met. But your gaze broke away as Greg started to introduce you to Connor and Willa. Tom slipped quietly from the room.

He was alone on the white sectional sofa, wine in hand, when you found him. In his sleek black turtleneck, he stood out starkly against the sofa. You sat down with him, leaving space between your bodies.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

Tom just shook his head. “It feels strange to be in this family and outside of it at the same time.”

“But you are family. I’m just a plus one. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Because Greg wanted to impress you.” Tom sipped his wine. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

“I don’t want to be here with Greg,” you said. You crossed your legs, brushing Tom’s leg with your knee. He looked at you through his long lashes.

“I don’t want to be here at all,” he replied. His eyes fell to your legs, covered in black tights, now dangerously close to his. You sipped your wine and gazed at him. Silent, but roaring inside.

“You don’t seem happy,” you said.

“Neither do you.”

“What can we do about that?”

Tom’s eyes flickered up.

Just then, Kendall and Roman waltzed into the room. You shifted your legs seamlessly.

“This looks cozy,” Roman said, all but winking at Tom. Tom gave him a warning look.

“Do holidays make anyone else horny?” Roman went on. “Or is it just me?”

Before anyone could answer, Marcia walked into the room, wringing her hands as she looked between you.

“So sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news. We misjudged how much wine we needed. There likely won’t be enough for dinner. I just wanted to let you know.”

You felt Tom’s shoulders sink beside you. “You need someone to pick up more wine, Marcia?” he said.

A smile slid across her face. “Tom, that would be wonderful.”

He heaved himself to his feet. “You got it, Marcia.”

You quickly stood. “Wait. I’ll go with you. I need some air.”

Tom glanced at you, then gave a slight nod.

“We might have to start lunch without you,” Marcia said with a false note of apology.

Tom just waved his hand as he started towards the elevator.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back.”

You stood shoulder to shoulder with Tom on the short lift ride to the ground floor.

“Where are we going to get wine?” you said.

“Fuck the wine. I just needed to get out of there.”

The chauffeur brought Tom’s car around and started to open the back door.

“Give me the keys,” Tom said, holding out his hand. The chauffeur dropped them in his open palm. You slid into the passenger seat as Tom started the car. The sight of his big hands turning the wheel stirred something inside of you.

“Why did Marcia make you do this?”

“Because I’m the in-law. The black sheep. I don’t really matter.”

He chuckled, but there was no laughter in his eyes.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said quietly. Tom glanced at you, but said nothing.

You found a corner grocery that was open on Thanksgiving Day. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Tom at the register, you could feel the cold coming off of him. He slid his card across the counter. As you stood there waiting, you felt the back of Tom’s hand brush against yours. You didn’t pull away. His fingers proceeded to twine slowly around yours. He gave you a soft glance, stroking your hand tentatively with his thumb.

The girl behind the counter handed him his card. She looked twice at you both and smiled.

“Cute couple.”

Tom put his card away with a nod.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said evenly.

Tom set the case in the back seat, taking one bottle and sliding into the driver’s seat with it. You sat beside him, flushed with cold.

“Look, it’s a screw top. Connor’s going to shit himself. This entire case was twenty dollars.”

He unscrewed the cap and handed you the bottle.

“Here. You deserve it for putting up with this fucking family.”

You glanced at him, then turned it back. You grimaced.

“That’s pretty bad.”

“Serves them right.” Tom grabbed the bottle from you and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked directly at you.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“What?”

“You’ve been flirting with me all day.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to seduce you.”

“I know, but why me? I’m just a married loser whose suits don’t fit right, apparently—“

“Shut the fuck up, Tom. You have no idea how sexy you are.”

He laughed, then took another swig of wine.

“I can’t believe you just told an executive to shut up.”

His voice was light, but his eyes were ignited by a new inner fire.

“What are you going to do about it?” you said, staring right at him. He gazed back at you.

“We don’t have much time,” he whispered, throat tight.

You glanced around. The parking garage was practically deserted.

“Put your seat back,” you said.

Tom immediately obeyed. You leaned across him, listening to his quickening breath as you unbuckled his belt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, watching the movement of your hands.

You unzipped his expensive wool pants and drew out his cock, which was already hot and hard in your hands. You looked up at him, gripping him firmly.

“God, you’re huge,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss the tip, running your lips along the hard shaft. Tom moaned as he twined his fingers in your hair.

“Look at me.” He directed your face towards him. Slowly stroking him, you looked him in the eye.

“You drive me crazy,” you said. “I think about you all the fucking time.”

Tom jerked you towards him, kissing you hard on the mouth. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard. You were half on top of him, pressed against his cock as you moved your hand faster. He grabbed your ass, gasping into your mouth as his cock pulsed in your hand.

“Oh, God,” he groaned. You kissed his neck, his ear, grinding your hips against his thigh.

"I fucking want you, Tom," you whispered in his ear.

He gave a shuddering gasp, holding tightly to your hair. His entire body tensed, then relaxed all at once into his seat. He held your forehead against his, breathing hard. Then he looked down at himself and managed a laugh.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he said. Before you could return to your seat, he kissed you once more, deeply, slowly.

He placed a finger lightly on your lips. “Next time,” he said, “allow me to be the one with my face between your legs.”

“Stop it,” you said weakly. “We still have to get through lunch.”

He pulled up outside of Logan’s townhouse, shut off the car, and sat for a moment before getting out.

“Are you going to fuck Greg?” he said out of nowhere.

His eyes were suddenly timid and faintly sad. You reached over and took his hand in both of yours.

“No. I’ll just be fantasizing about about when you and me can undress each other.”

“Let’s just get through this fucking holiday.”

You walked in together, flushed, carrying the case of wine. Everyone at the long dinner table looked up as you entered. Connor stood up and took the case from Tom’s hand.

“Thanks so much, guys. You saved the day.” But his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked down at the case. “There’s one missing.”

“Must’ve been stolen,” Tom muttered. He took his place beside Siobhan, while you joined Greg.

Roman, sitting across from Tom, fixed him with a knowing grin. Tom’s eyes flickered up as he spread his napkin in his lap.

“What?” he said flatly.

“You’re looking much better, man.”

Siobhan glanced at him. “Your cheeks are all red.”

“It’s fucking cold,” Tom said.

She brushed her thumb along his cheek, causing him to flinch slightly.

“You guys were gone a while,” Greg said, dishing out cranberry sauce onto his plate.

“There wasn’t much open,” you said.

Roman’s shoulders were shaking with stifled laughter. Tom glared at him. Finally, Roman composed himself and raised his glass.

“Let’s have a toast with this shitty wine,” he said. He looked straight at Tom. “To a healthy appetite.”

Everyone raised their glasses.

“To a healthy appetite.”

Tom looked at you, winked, and drank.

[slimeypuppy]

febuwhump self inflicted wound for agent au ♡

Based on the prompt it's a given, but TW for self harm. This is about as graphic as I'm comfortable getting, so please proceed with caution and your safety/comfort in mind. For more detailed warnings or the "clean" version (segments involving sh omitted), please feel free to direct message me.

Prompts open for Febuwhump

Most days, Shiv doesn't feel like a real person. She never has been, not really, because from the day her blue eyes first opened on the cold world, she was nothing more than a last name, a block of marble owned by Logan Roy, made to be carved in his image but expected to handle the chisel herself without arms. She's tried on other names for size over the years, away from the family, but Siobhan and it's juvenile shortening are at the very least something that her father gave her. He's given her so little when it comes to personhood that she can't afford to reject it.

There's nothing real, nothing genuine, about the person she has grown into. Three days ago, she turned thirty. No one particularly cared. Tom bought her a cupcake and sang her Happy Birthday over a glass of champagne, but this was after a full day at work bending over backwards for Logan's approval, and no one else so much as acknowledged the date. Before she met Tom, no one did at all. She has that, at least, even if she's come to realize that he doesn't love her or even particularly like her. At some point, she thinks, he must have loved her, and she must have loved him, but whatever fragile tether they had has been burned to ashes for a while. She had always known he worked for the family, but it wasn't until she heard a teasing call of Nero that she realizes he's spent too long in this industry to still have a heart.

It's just her, alone in her massive bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles, drinking red straight from the bottle and imagining all the ways life could've been different if she was born a boy like her brothers. Granted, she doesn't want to do what they do; she's not a sadist like Kendall or a whore like Roman. But they get respect. At least a little. No one respects her by the virtue of being the baby of the family with the wrong anatomy for any kind of genuine power. Even now, practically running the business, she'd be tossed aside in a heartbeat if Stewy consented to taking over. He's not even family. He's just capable with a dick in his pants.

She thinks of Rava now, and the charges to her credit card that bounce around in the Caribbean every few months. The card is in her name, to avoid red flags, and Shiv pays the bill every time it comes in, and it brings her a small amount of comfort to have that confirmation that Rava and her children are doing alright. Shiv can't speak to her. She thinks about her, though, and the fact that Shiv was almost like her. If Shiv hadn't been so intolerable to most men, she would've been offered as an olive branch to someone Logan wanted an alliance with, expected to bear his children and cook him dinner. Rava's fate is one that she narrowly escaped, so of course the moment Stewy suggested getting her out of reach, Shiv took him up on the offer. She hates Stewy, of course, but there's no part of her that hates him more than she believes in Rava's autonomy. Imagining Rava brings to mind memories of soft pink sheets and dark hair fanned out on the pillows, moans and cries, the taste on her tongue that no amount of liquor afterward could erase from her memory. Kendall doesn't know. Kendall doesn't know that Rava hates him, or that Stewy and Shiv disappeared her, or that Rava got more satisfaction on lunch dates with his sister than with him. It's simply better that way.

There's a wooden tray sitting on the ledge of the tub, everything laid out so neatly that Shiv almost laughs. It's like something Stewy would lay out, in its precision, but that's the deal she made with herself almost fifteen years ago. If she's going to do it, she'll do it right. Now that she's older, it's much easier. As a teenager and a young woman, or even as a new wife, she had to be careful of where she let herself hurt and how easy it was to disguise. Present day pantsuits and turtlenecks and sweaters do enough to hide her arms, which are much more accessible anyways.

She's always been careful about cutting too deep, too wide, too many; ugly and plentiful scars are asking for death, and Shiv knows she won't be martyred. She starts by swabbing her pale forearm with antiseptic, because even though she's just bathed, she doesn't want to invite in infection. One use of Kendall's work style is access to surgical scalpels. perfectly packaged in sterile plastic so that it's already clean when she opens it up and adjusts it in her hand. It's razor sharp. Perfect. She steadies her arm over the lip of the tub, right next to the tray, and balances her opposite elbow on it too. No mistakes. She decides on three, one for each brother that she's better than but can never compete with because she was born inferior.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then she fits the scalpel back into its opened packaging and presses gauze to her arm. Pressure will slow the bleeding, and she maintains it for a count to sixty before lifting the scarlet stained fabric. Next is the antibiotic ointment, then a more permanent dressing which she carefully secures, and it's over. Her head feels a little clearer, even with the alcohol in her veins.

With her uninjured arm, Shiv pops the drain and grabs her towel to dry off. The used supplies go into the garbage and everything else it put away for future use. Tom doesn't use this bathroom, doesn't even stay in their apartment often anymore, so she doesn't bother to hide the evidence in the trash. It's not her problem. The maid will dump it in the morning without a word on her lips, bound by fear and her NDA, and Shiv will construct armor out of designer clothes and walk into work like she does every single morning. Maybe Tom will even be there when she arrives, standing tall in the 'war room' as he runs Greg ragged and kisses up to Logan.

She should've known from the day she met him that he had no good intentions. Allowing herself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the simple fact of the matter that he didn't hurt her on their first encounter is exactly why she's weak. Roman or Kendall wouldn't have been fooled like she was. Shiv has only herself to blame for her empty home, one side of the bed perpetually made and unslept in because she still won't go back to the middle on the off-chance he comes home one night and decides to hold her like they're newlyweds once more.

[eldritchsurveys]

784.

Have you ever worn those Drunk Goggles? >> I vaguely remember seeing those as like a gag gift at Spencer’s or something, but I’ve never worn any. I’ve been drunk, though, so I think I’ve got the experience of wearing Drunk Goggles well covered.

Which decade before the 90s had the best makeup trends? >> I don’t know anything about makeup trends before the eighties, now that I think about it.

Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? >> I can be upset sometimes, especially if the thing being debated is something I have a particular personal investment in. But I have learned how to be upset by myself, and not make it anyone else’s problem. (Which leads to a lot of unresolved feelings, I’ve also learned, but hey.)

Does it bug you when long socks are constantly falling down? >> I don’t wear long socks, and that’s one reason why.

Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? >> I don’t know anything about rodeos and therefore do not have an opinion.

Why can’t politicians debate politely? >> Because it’s assumed that the general public will not remain engaged unless there’s some sort of drama. ...Honestly, I can see where they get that impression, but it can also be alienating for those of us who aren’t looking for entertainment from our politicians.

Who is the best female rocker? Why? >> Floor Jansen is one of my favourites. So is Skin, from Skunk Anansie.

Can you even taste a difference between Cheez Its and Cheez Nips? >> I don’t know, I’ve not had both of them.

What about between Pepsi and Coke or Sprite and 7Up? >> Yeah, I’ve tasted differences between both of those and I have preferences.

Do you care what kind of toilet paper you use? >> Yes, I care. I don’t like either extreme (too rough or too soft).

What color of roses do you find the prettiest? >> I’ve never given it any consideration.

Which celebrity has the cutest butt? >> I don’t know. But Sarah Snook, who plays Siobhan Roy on Succession, has a pretty eye-catching booty.

Do you still have any decent arcades nearby? >> Not to my knowledge.

After a holiday, do you go to the store to get candy on sale? >> No, but I might get some for Sparrow.

Did Marilyn Monroe look better before or after cosmetic surgery? >> ---

Bullfighters who get gored kind of had it coming, right? >> I mean, yeah.

If you make surveys, do you care what people rate them? >> I don’t make them, but if I did, that wouldn’t be a concern of mine. The only time I’m tempted to make a survey is because there are questions that it surprises me that no one ever asks, and that I’d love to answer myself. So I’d be making it for my benefit, primarily, and if anyone else enjoys it then that’s just icing on an already-good cake.

Have you ever accidentally found porn when looking for something else? >> Yeah, but it doesn’t happen much nowadays.

Ever run into those ‘celebrity lookalike porn’ blogs? >> Long time ago, yeah. You know, before tumblr changed its policy.

If you’re not religious, is the Bible basically just an old collection of short stories? >> My understanding of the Bible is that it’s a collection of laws and writings -- stories, poetry, letters, op-ed pieces (lol). The New Testament in particular seems to be just a bunch of letters appended to four different accounts of one dude’s birth and early life and concluded with a really dramatic callout post for the Roman Empire. I am very fond of this giant mishmosh of opinions and dramatically-recounted stories, tbh, it’s really interesting from both a historical and mythological perspective.

Do you think religious leaders just like to manipulate people? >> Of course.

Why do so many fans with OTP’s insist that their ship is real? Even when the writers (or real people that they ship) tell them it isn’t? >> I don’t know. I’ve never really delved into why that’s so important to a lot of fans, although it does intrigue me. I think it might have something to do with the varieties of ways in which people interact with and understand stories, but I’m not able to articulate exactly what I mean right now, I don’t have the words all organised in my brain and ready to go.

Do you draw fanart of anything? >> No, I don’t draw. I write fan fiction.

Do annoying city kids ever loiter outside your library and harass people? >> I’ve never witnessed any harassment outside of a library around here. That seems more likely to have happened in NYC, though.

Do you like to hang out at your local library? >> Occasionally. I used to basically live at the library when I was in the City, because I was homeless. I think I don’t go to the library as often anymore because of that -- it’s registered in my mind as “the place you go and sit in all day because you can’t go anywhere else” and it disorients me if I do it now.

On that subject, do you like the smell of books? >> Some books.

What’s on your Reading List, so-to-speak, right now? >> I’m between books right now. I’m still debating whether I want to try to finish The Denial of Death or whether I want to give it up for now, and the fact that I’ve been debating that for like a week most likely means that I should give it up. I can always pick it up again at a later date.

Read any great non-fiction books lately? >> Sure.

What do you like on your burger? >> Lettuce, onion, bacon, mustard or bbq sauce, some kind of cheese (preferably pepper jack). Jalapeño peppers can be good too.

What do you NOT like on your burger? >> Mayo, sometimes tomato (I go back and forth, it just depends on the day).

Do you like ‘loose meat’ sandwiches? >> I’m not sure what that is, but the name isn’t too enticing, let me tell you.

Have you ever heard of the restaurant Maid Rite? >> No.

What is the best thing to put in a grilled cheese (other than cheese)? >> I don’t even remember what things I like in a grilled cheese, I haven’t had one in ages. Oh! HopCat sells one that has honey and apple in it and that’s pretty good. I do like “weird” grilled cheeses.

Homemade tomato soup, or just out of a can? >> Not out of a can, that’s for sure. There are some premade ones that I do like, but they’re never canned (usually they’ll come in cartons).

Favorite thing to see in museums? >> I like sci-tech museums, so, that stuff.

Have you ever seen an unwrapped mummy in person? >> No.

What things have people shamed you for? >> The kind of music I like, the kind of people I think are pretty, the way I look, the way I behave/my idiosyncrasies, my emotional responses, my needs... I mean, basically almost anything you can think of.

Do you always reply to private messages? (On any website) >> I usually do.

What device do you seem to always be buying batteries for? >> I don’t think anything I currently use takes disposable batteries.

What’s worse – snow, or all the mud after it melts? >> Definitely the latter.

Are there any 'adult stores’ in your area? >> Probably. Not in this city proper, but like... around. Somewhere.

Have you been inside of them/shopped there before? >> I’ve been to a lot of them in NYC.

Do you watch The Masked Singer? Any theories? >> No.

Favorite Alfred Hitchcock film? >> I don’t have one.

Do you like Funko Pop figurines? >> Meh. The novelty wears off pretty quickly.

If so, do you have any? Which ones would you like to have? >> Yeah, having a few is how I know the novelty wears off pretty quickly, hah. I have two Marvel!Heimdalls (from two different movies), a Roland and a Walter from the Dark Tower movie, Jesse and Cassidy from the Preacher TV show, Lucio and Reaper from Overwatch, and Vivec from The Elder Scrolls. I actually had to go looking in the living room because I’d forgotten I had that many. That’s another few items for the donation / giveaway bin...

Which ones do you think they should make (but haven’t yet)? >> At this point, I think they should stop, lmao. There are so fucking many.

[waystargojo]

NEW YORK CITY–Ten minutes into dinner with co-worker Tom Wambsgans, Gregory Hirsch, his executive assistant at Waystar Royco, realized Tuesday that what he thought was a date was actually a work-related get-together.

Greg Hirsch enjoys a romantic business meeting with boss Tom Wambsgans.

"So- so there Tom and I were, right, at the pop-up, and there were- there were like, candles flickering, and- and this soft music playing. Then at some point he started bringing up [Kendall Roy's vote of no confidence against Logan Roy] the vote," the 27-year-old Hirsch said. "Then I realized, like: Oh, this is a business meeting."

Wambsgans, 44, and Hirsch met three weeks ago when Hirsch was transferred from Brightstar Adventure Park, Toronto, where he spent a single day as a mascot. Upon arriving in New York, Wambsgans took him under his wing, and the two began spending a great deal of time together.

"Sure, we only hung out at work, but we were getting along great, you know, and he- you know, making each other laugh, he'd buy me things," Hirsch said. "You know how it goes, with closeted guys, how they kinda, they flirt, but never say anything too, um, conspicuous? Then, one day, Tom made a comment about Shiv [Siobhan Roy, Wambsgans's fiancé], saying she was in DC so he was gonna take me out. I thought maybe that was him threating me. Then he said it wasn't, so I thought, oh, okay, this is a date type of situation."

While Hirsch played girlsgogames on his laptop, Wambsgans suddenly asked him to join him for dinner that evening. Noting how his fiancé is out of town, Wambsgans suggested, "why don't I take you out." Hirsch agreed, and the pair met at the pop-up at 7 p.m.

"So- so we were sitting there, and I kept asking him all these questions, like, I'd ask, so where did you grow up, and what kind of music do you like," Hirsch said. "Then he'd laugh at my question, and ask me about Uncle Logan [Roy]. But I guess I didn’t get it. I thought he was maybe nervous? And he couldn't think of anything else to talk about?"

Hirsch finally realized he was not on a date shortly after finishing the second course. "When the waiter came back and took the um, the, songbirds," he said, "I mentioned my grandpa was in town and then Tom immediately rushed to call someone."

The pair spent the next hour discussing the vote. While doing so, Hirsch also dissected the evening's earlier exchanges in his head.

"I realized there were a bunch of times I must've seemed, um, kind of weird," Hirsch said. "Like, he said to me, 'You look like shit. I thought I've been buying your clothes for a reason?' and I said, 'Um, I guess I'll try better? On another date?'"

As the evening wore on, Hirsch became increasingly paranoid that Wambsgans would discover his original romantic intentions. Fortunately, the evening has not damaged the colleagues' working relationship, and Wambsgans remains blissfully unaware of the aborted wooing.

literally greg in which side are you on