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#turmoil
toonifulhat · 3 months
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supa gummy time
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stuffy-just-doodles · 2 months
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Aight, got some minus designs (mario's madness mainly)
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Bonus:
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wambsgansshoelaces · 4 months
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Turmoil; Chapter 1
Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!
Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line
a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!
Word Count: 2.358k
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Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.
You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.
Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.
It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.
A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.
It earns you millions.
You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.
You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.
Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.
He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.
When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.
“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.
“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”
“I do my best.”
He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”
You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.
“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”
“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”
“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”
“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”
Your heart misses a beat.
“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”
You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”
Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.
“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”
Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”
You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.
“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”
He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”
You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”
“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.
“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”
“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.
He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”
You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”
“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”
“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”
“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”
You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.
Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”
He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”
☾𖤓
You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.
Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.
A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.
If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.
You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.
That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.
There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.
You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.
When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.
The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.
Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.
The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.
Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.
The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.
“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”
He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”
“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.
“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”
“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”
You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”
You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.
Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.
He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.
“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”
You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.
He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.
“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.
Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”
“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.
Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.
As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”
Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”
You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”
“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.
“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”
Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.
Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.
“I admire you, you know.”
“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”
She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”
“What do you want from me?”
“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”
After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.
“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”
“I take him to court, I’m told.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”
You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”
Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.
Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”
You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.
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downfalldestiny · 5 months
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"Peace is not the absence of turmoil but the presence of harmony 🍁 !".
- Unknown
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heartefei · 1 month
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Munch break
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I didn’t intend to draw GB with the bunny ears buuut why not
♡ -> 13⸝February⸝2024
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toasted-bread-crumbs · 3 months
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the goober
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maxthevictim · 2 months
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(1)GB and Turmoil
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(2)D-side Mario exe. ^
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((You can Draw something on there if you want :) ))
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rustandsky · 2 months
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Evisceration
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sylveam1 · 2 months
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I FELT IN LOVE WITH THIS MOD
I drew the anti-piracy DS characters bc I love them
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And I drew “I HATE YOU” Luigi and Turmoil Mario
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gennsoup · 4 months
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"Out of the frying pan . . . into another frying pan--falling out of that frying pan--into the underworld, where there is a huge frying pan where the devils dance, and say, 'Fuck to you.'"
Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth
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enii · 2 months
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temidarko · 5 days
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𖤐 T H E M 𖤐
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(I found old doodles sooooo… here:] )
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GB & Turmoil:]
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wambsgansshoelaces · 2 months
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Turmoil; Chapter 9
Roman Roy x Reader
Word Count: 3.518k
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You walk slowly back and forth on the cool marble flooring of Shiv’s apartment, trying not to slip on your socks. You're gesturing vaguely at your laptop as you pace, which Roman had gotten to project on her living room TV. You have the spreadsheet of Connor’s financial ruin pulled up, letting everyone mull it over.
“We have many options right now, and all of them are good,” you tell your miniature peanut gallery of the siblings- minus Connor -, plus Gerri and Greg. “We serve Connor. All this does is get him off of our asses, gets us some spending money. Doesn’t eliminate the massive fucking problem that is Logan Roy, doesn’t deal with anything involving Waystar. Purely a ‘fuck you’ to Connor and he goes to jail for five minutes before Daddy bails him out.” You glance around the room, remembering your audience. “Uh, no offence.”
You get a collective grunt from the three siblings, all of them in a similar state of focus. Roman’s sat on the sofa, eyes trained solely on you rather than the presentation. When you catch his gaze, he gives you a nervous smile. You smile back.
“What I think we should do is start building a case against Logan. But we bait him with this fraud to get a stronger case,” you say. “We’re pulling things together. I can see us having an airtight case before the years up.” You pause. “We just, uh, need to finalize the entire… CEO thing.”
The more time you’d spent with the Roys, the more they got along less. With Logan thrown out of the company, ownership, control of the company was up for grabs. Each of the three of them though that they were the right choice. What you saw in Norway, what you saw when you first met Roman, was slowly self destructing.
You’re worried it won’t go back to the way it was before.
The siblings’ banter, their underlying love for one another. You’re not going to hear it again for a while.
The general consensus is that you are to start building a criminal case against Logan Roy. You have to tell yourself that if you fail, on the off chance that this case crumbles under pressure in court, that the rest of your life will with it. Losing to Logan Roy, at anything, has grace consequences. And in this instance? Your career will suffer the most.
Roman’s trying to figure out how to completely disconnect your laptop from the television when Gerri approaches you. You both offer each other soft smiles. You were similar, after all, and although lawyers didn’t get along most of the time, you got the feeling that you’d both give each other grace.
“It’s nice to meet you informally,” she tells you, offering her hand for you to shake. Her grip is firm, it doesn’t falter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out to Norway.”
“You didn’t miss much. It was a lot of peacocking, if I’m honest.”
Her voice drops so that only you can hear, even though everyone else is involved in their own business, nowhere near. “There’s a power struggle here. Neither of us are stupid.”
You gather your composure. Maybe this wasn’t the wholesome interaction you’d hoped it’d be. Oh, how you wish strategy would leave you alone. “Mm.”
“And I think, with our lack of familial ties, lack of allegiance, we’re in quite the position to just… make things go our way.”
Your eyes flit about the space around the two of you. Still, nobody’s within earshot. “And what’s our way?”
“The one where we benefit most.” Her gaze shifts from you to Roman, still sat on the couch, your laptop finally disconnected from the TV. As if he can feel your eyes boring into him, he looks up, catching you and Gerri staring. “The one where we have the most control.”
“Since when are you and Gerri all buddy buddy?” he asks the minute you step out of Shiv’s apartment. The bone-chilling January air smacks you in the face, blowing back your hair as you glance at him in the dark.
“We’re not. I met her today.” You simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, curling your fingers together.
“What’d she say?” he asks, voice just barely cracking. He brings his free hand to your intertwined ones, rubbing over the back of your hand in an attempt to warm it.
You don’t answer until you’re both in the car a few moments later, you sitting behind the wheel. “She made an interesting proposition about the entire… succession thing.”
He buckles his seat belt, not taking his eyes off you. “Yeah?”
“That her and I back you so that we have the power when you’re CEO.”
You tear your gaze from his, backing out of the apartment complex’s parking lot and pulling out onto the street. He says nothing for a bit, turning things over in his head.
“I mean, I wouldn’t really be against that,” he says carefully, failing to sound convincing. “I wouldn’t like it, but I mean, CEO, and the two smartest people I know pulling the strings so I don’t fuck up…”
“You’d be fine with that? You wouldn’t want, I don’t know, free will?”
“Well, it’s you and Gerri. Sure, you’ve both had your cold and calculating bullshit, but neither of you are capable of rendering me completely useless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, glancing at him when you stop at a red light.
He shrugs. “Just that you’re physically incapable of slighting me, because, you know”- he gestures at himself, taking your hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel and planting a kiss on the back of it -“and Gerri doesn’t even have it in her.”
You roll your eyes. “I mean, I could, but I won’t,” you say, teasing. He keeps your hand in his as you drive, night time New York lights blurring by.
“Would you do it, though?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I could do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I… am I capable?” You can tell he’s still looking at you, but your eyes are in the road.
“Of course you’re capable,” you say immediately. “But it sounds like you don’t really… want it.”
“I mean, I want it. I want more for myself. I just… don’t really want Waystar. I want more than just fucking around in my stupid fucking office and having… having no substance.” The car’s in the parking garage of your own apartment now, but neither of you make a move to get out. He’s looking straight ahead of him, eyes slightly glazed over. It’s an expression you’ve never seen on him before. He looks troubled, like he’s actually at war with something in his head. “I mean, I feel like a week ago I would’ve strangled you for it. Now, I think about it, and it’s so… so boring.”
Your hands are still wrapped around each other, so you begin stroking small circles into his skin with your thumb. “Boring?”
“Unfulfilling. Dull. Like, what, I make billions of dollars every year for the rest of my life, doing absolutely nothing to earn it, and then I just die? What kind of life is that?”
You turn so that you can face him. “I didn’t know that was on your mind.”
Roman gives a mirthless laugh, bringing your hand to his shoulder. Vaguely aware of what he wants, you rub absently. “I didn’t, either. I don’t know.” His fingers trace over the back of your hand, still staring out the windshield rather than holding your gaze. “You make me feel all of these new things. I’m thinking about so much more, now that I’m taking you seriously.”
“You weren’t taking me serious before?” you ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood. You lean over the center console, using your hand on his shoulder to keep you steady, pressing a hot kiss to his jaw. “In the end, don’t do anything you don’t want to. Life’s not worth it if you’re not happy.”
You step out of the car, and Roman’s not far behind you. “You know,” he begins once you’re both safely inside the apartment, “I have no idea what we’re supposed to do.”
His coat gets tossed into the hallway closet, yours not far behind after he coaxes it off of you. “We’ll just do what we can.”
“You’re not very reassuring,” he mutters, shutting the closet door and pushing past you into the kitchen. You follow, reaching for his shoulders from behind him once he stops at the kitchen counter. He drops his face into his hands, somehow both tensing and relaxing at your touch.
“Roman.” Your thumbs glide over his shoulder blades, and he doesn’t respond. “What’s the actual problem here? We can talk. I’m here for you.”
“He’s my dad, Y/N. In the end he’s still my dad.” You gently knead his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He still doesn’t turn to face you. “Which is why it hurts so fuckin’ bad.”
“Tell me what hurts, Roman. We’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.”
“I want… I want him to love me like I love him. But I know-” he chokes on his words, and you realize he’s crying. You falter for barely a moment when he abruptly turns and buries his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your back. You feel his tears trickling onto your collarbone, and you feel a twisting in your chest. You cradle the back of his head with one of your hands, the other going to the small of his back. “But I know it’ll never happen.” His grip tightens on you before he continues. “Yeah, that shit with you, and Gerri, and CEO… it sounds so fucking good, but Y/N, when I fucking dreamed of it, the only reason it ever mattered was that it was him. He wanted me there, he thought I was the best. But it was all just a dream, anyway. It doesn’t fucking matter if that’s not how it goes.”
He sobs into your shoulder, and you don’t move. You keep holding him. You’ll hold him until he lets go. You hope he doesn’t.
“We’ll figure something else out, then. It’s okay, Roman, it’s okay.” You press a tentative kiss to the side of his head. “You’re getting yourself worked up. We can talk about this later, yeah?” He pulls away to look at you, waterline still glistening. You cup his face with your hands, thumbing away the stray tears on his cheeks and under his eyes. “Wanna watch that show I was talking about the other day? Make you feel better, take your mind off things?”
He takes a deep, controlling breath, calming himself. “I know a better way we can get me to feel good,” he murmurs, not wasting any more time, taking you by the jaw and pulling your mouth to his. If your first few kisses were careful, arguably sweet, this one was reckless. Roman kisses you without abandon, mushing your lips against his. For the first time, he’s needy, he’s greedy, he’s fucking desperate. Messily, he’d turned the two of you so that your back was to the counter. “Up,” he utters, mouth barely leaving yours. He reaches behind you, barely gesturing at the counter top.
Vaguely, you register, and you brace your hands on his chest and jump, managing to land where he wants you. The counter isn’t that high up- it wasn’t a struggle. Immediately, he’s pressed up against you, hands sliding down your legs to loop them around the part of his torso they are dangling by. While your hands go to cup his face, his slide back up your clothing to settle on your hips.
You kiss him again, and again, and again. The only thing you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the soft noises of your lips on his. You pepper kisses onto his lips, and he makes quiet, contented noises. He’s completely relaxed. He’s letting you do whatever the fuck you want.
“Feeling better?” you ask into his mouth before kissing him again, long and deep, fingers digging deeper into his skin.
He groans in response, the vibration against your lips spine-tingling. “So much fucking better.” He pulls his mouth from yours, to your disappointment, and the both of you are panting, vying for air. He doesn’t pull away entirely, instead leaning back in to dot kisses to the corners of your mouth, then down your chin, down your neck. “You look fucking gorgeous from this angle. A fucking goddess among men.”
☾𖤓
When the morning arrives, the two of you are tangled together, your head nestled into his chest, his head atop yours. His arms are wound tightly around you, keeping you flush against him in a refusal to let go. When you wake up, all you can smell is the faint scent of his aftershave from the night before. You never want this to end.
You don’t open your eyes, trying to get even closer to him. You barely rub your cheek against his chest in an attempt to burrow into him. Roman murmurs softly in his sleep, shifting, bringing you with him and pressing his nose into your neck.
His breath fans over your skin, deliciously warm, sweetly soothing. You bring your hand to his cheek, gently stroking, admiring his peace-laden face.
You spend the next half hour like this, just looking at him, reflecting.
Your fiancé. Your Roman.
You’d never expect, in a million years, that this would be how you ended up. You let your fingers trace calming patterns into the crook of his jaw, and he’s practically purring. You savor these fleeting moments, this peace.
It’s like a dream. Everything is in slow motion, and you can feel everything before it happens. You know you’re going to fall for him. You’re going to fall so fucking hard. You’ll scrape your face on the pavement, skid your knees, bleed for him.
Also like a dream is the looming sense of doom. The feeling that you’re grasping at straws, waiting for everything to suddenly slip away. Because you know it will. You know, whatever path you take, it intersects with Logan Roy’s, and there’s quite the conflict in the distance.
Roman grunts from under you, shifting so that you’re laying on the bed rather than him. “Fuckin’ tryna kill me,” he mumbles into your neck. Despite his words, you can feel him smiling into your skin.
“I want all that money of yours,” you tease back, letting him drape an arm over your torso, readjusting so that his face is buried in your chest.
“Mm, don’t act like you don’t already own everything that I do,” he says, sleep still playing with his voice. “God, you could tell me you wanted to live in the White House and I’d blow all my money renting it out for you.”
You laugh airily, and before you know it, you’re both up and about, getting ready for work.
“I forgot to tell you,” he calls from across the apartment, him in the kitchen, you digging around in your closet. “The shareholder thing. Looks like Dad’s trying to rally the troops. He has all the old-timers questioning everything Ken does.”
“Anything from Marcia?” you shout back, finding the outfit you were hunting for.
“She agreed to meet at the firm. Also, I heard from that pompous piece of googly-eyed garbage that Connor’s already had a lawsuit processed. He goes to court in a month or something.”
You stroll out into the living room, watching Roman muck about the kitchen, making breakfast. It smells good, at least, and you can tell he’s melting cheese over eggs while he scrambles them. “Are you talking about Pierce, or Greg?”
“Pierce. I don’t think Greg is that bad…”
You snort, rounding the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Whatever you say.” He turns to briefly smack a kiss onto your cheek in return before getting back to his eggs. "Hopefully your daddy makes a scene.”
“Never refer to him like that again.”
At the firm, you decide that you’re going to pretend to keep working on Connor’s case. You’re itching for shit to hit the fan, to see Logan step in. As far as you know, everything is in place, and you’re getting closer to catching him red handed.
On your office phone’s intercom, your assistant buzzes to get your attention. “Siobhan is here.”
“Send her in, Cherry, thank you!”
When Shiv’s sat across from you, dressed in a power suit, she’s distracted. “I didn’t know you employed solely pretty people.” She gestures at you, then looks back at Cherry’s desk.
You laugh. “I do my best.” You absentmindedly click a pen, turning some thoughts over in your head. “So how are we going to play this?”
Shiv relaxes a bit in her seat, regarding you carefully. “I say we go for the jugular. There’s no reason to go easy.”
You lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s your call.”
Another buzz. “She’s here.”
“Put her in Conference Room C. Love you lots, Cherry.”
Shiv flushes slightly. “Her name is Cherry?”
You shoo her out of her office before she can continue the conversation, and the two of you make your way down the hall. You see her through the glass before you get to the conference room. Marcia sits, hands folded primly in her lap, lips pressed into a thin line. You sit yourself in the chair directly across from her, Shiv following, settling in beside you. She wears a steely expression, her face devoid of emotion.
“Is it really so bad, just telling Dad you don’t want him anymore?” she asks Marcia, leaning back into her chair.
“That is not the topic of today’s conversation,” Marcia manages back, tone icy.
“Before we get to that,” you tell her, “you’re going to have to swear a few oaths. You’re Catholic, aren’t you, Mrs. Roy?”
She nods, hesitant. You reach under the conference table, where a small storage container is attached, and pull out a Bible. You stand, round the table, and make her set her hand on the holy book.
You swear her in, and you’re back in your seat next to Shiv. You fiddle with your pen, as does Shiv with hers. Your notepads are set before you both, at the ready to take notes.
“Just so you remember,” Shiv drawls, “if we find out anything you say here is untrue, you’re in deep shit.”
“Let’s start out easy, light.” You cross your ankles over each other, keeping your eyes on Marcia. “How long have you and your… new friend been seeing each other?”
She sighs, lips pursed. “A little over a year now.”
Shiv’s lips press together, keeping whatever comment she had lined up to herself. Instead, she asks, “What are you aware of, if anything, that my father has done that isn’t… to your taste?”
Marcia takes a moment to respond. “Bribes. Threats. What’s new?”
“You’re going to need to be a bit more specific,” Shiv replies quickly, pen poised over paper.
“Well,” Marcia says, drawing the word out, “he’s had private meetings. With investors, with accountants, with employees. He always has something to hold over them. There is always some hidden record, some bastard child, to bring them to him.”
“And if we were to ask you to remember who some of these people were, would you be able to come up with names?” you ask carefully, glancing down at your empty notepad then back up at Marcia.
“Yes, I’m sure I could.”
You and Shiv both jot things down.
Shiv opens her mouth to continue, but Marcia beats her to it. “There is something important you should know.”
“By all means,” you say, trying to be encouraging.
“I have come to know your first case quite well,” she tells you, averting her gaze. “It is a shame, what happened to you.” You and Shiv exchange a glance. “But despite all of the theatrics my husband enjoys, what he’s presented to you still is not the full truth.” She takes a moment, formulating her next sentences. “It was not Connor committing the fraud. It was Logan. He manufactured evidence, he framed his son, and I… I’m fairly sure the poor boy thinks he committed the crime.”
The room is dead silent for what seems like ages. You don’t know where to look. Your eyes flit from Marcia, who seems to be contemplating something in her head, to Shiv, who looks just as confused, just as off put as you do.
Marcia seems to decide something, then continues speaking. “I have had enough of the drama. I will testify in court against my husband if you help me turn our relationship into a thing of the past.”
You throw Shiv a triumphant look before turning back to Marcia.
“That sounds like quite the respectable deal.”
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artsolarsash · 26 days
Text
One of the scene what will happen in “The Song of the Celestial’s Tears”
Mayhem in the Tavern
Sun and Moon went to the tavern with musical instruments. They came to the stand.
Sun: Hallo, good friend, Sorry for disturbing you.
BM: What do you want, weirdos?
Sun: Well, we are the bards, and we came to this wonderful place to perform our songs and bring joy to everyone.
The big man, with no interest, looked at them both.
BM: *sigh*, bards. Well, if you want to perform it, then go, but no tricks! I am watching you.
Moon: We promise.
Sun: Yes, we will!
The Big Man looked at them suspiciously, but he pointed at the place where it was staged.
BM: The stage is over there. If you need something, just call the waiter.
Sun: Thank you, dear sir; it’s a pleasure to have you!
The big man came back to his work, and Sun and Moon went to the stage and were prepared for "performance.”
Moon: So how’s the plan?
Sun: Don’t worry, Moony, everything is under control!
Moon: I know. But we need to make sure that everything will not be a total mess, if it will be.
Sun: Hey! Trust me, the plan will work perfectly! I promise.
The waiter came inside the stage.
Waiter: Okay, guys, the show is starting; everyone is waiting.
Then he came back to his work. Sun and Moon looked at each other with confidence.
Sun: Ready for the show?
Moon: Ready!
The curtains come up, and the light falls on the sun's and moon’s faces. The moon got a flute, while the sun had a lute. They started a performance, and everything was magical. The figures of dragons, fairies, dancing nymphs, and other enchanted creatures and the ballade of their magic astounded everyone. While they continued performing, the blue smoke was coming into people’s pockets, and they started to collect coins and jewels until they came to the bag. When they finished, everyone clapped at them.
Sun: Thank you! Thank you, friends! Thank you so much!
Suddenly, one of the customers saw a jewel in Sun’s bag and realized that it had been stolen.
Customer #1: Hey! Is this jewel stolen?
Sun: What!? No, no, no, no, you don’t understand; it’s just your imagination. Nothing suspicious…
But when the customer tried to look at the sun’s bag, Moon grabbed his hand.
Moon: Has anyone taught you that touching somebody’s stuff is a breach of privacy?
Customer #1: Don’t touch me, you freak! I know that you stole something; I can smell it, and I can prove it!
Another customer quietly looked at the bag, but Sun took his bag faster than him.
Sun: Sorry, but there’s nothing there! hehehe. Come on, Moon, we need to go! We are super late! Thank you so much, and we love you too!
When Sun took his bag, it ripped it out and made a small hole. Both of them started to go to the exit, but suddenly one ring filled with rubies and coins fell on the floor. The woman saw a ring, and she was shocked.
Angry Customer #1: Oh, my lord! My ring!
Angry Customer #2: They fooled us! Get them!
Sun: Uh-oh!
Moon: Oh boy! Okay, plan B?
Sun: Plan B!
Both were wearing masks, and Moon pulled out a small ball with shiny blue glitter.
Sun: Okay, everyone, the show is ending, and it’s time to say goodbye and good night.
Angry Customer #2: What?
Moon: Nighty night!
Moon threw the ball on the floor, and the tavern was covered by glittering blue smoke.
Angry Customer #3: Oh God! What is that?
BM: What’s going on!? Why is everything... Oh my! Why I’m so sleepy (yawns)
The big man and others fell asleep, but three of them were still awake, and they ran to the exit. They noticed the sun and moon.
Angry Customer #2: There they are!
Moon: Run!
They ran through the streets. Sun held his bag full of coins and stolen things, but some of them were falling one by one. People moved aside when they saw them.
Sun: Excuse me! Pardon! Sorry! Excuse me, ma’am! On the way!
Moon noticed Sun’s broken bag and coins falling to the ground.
Moon: Sun! Your bag!
Sun looked at his bag and was terrified. He closed his bag with his hand but started running slowly. Three men were following the sun and moon. One of them almost reached the sun, but he used a flashlight. The man fell and lost his sense of sight for a moment.
Sun: Sorry!
Both of them turned to the dark alley, and when three men reached it, they disappeared.
Angry Customer #4: Hey! Where did they go?
Angry Customer #5: I swear, I saw them, but they just... vanished!
Angry Customer #2: Forget about them; one day they will be caught and sit in jail, I swear!
When the followers lost them, the sun and moon went to the roof and jumped from one to another.
Sun: Ha ha ha, did you see their faces? It was priceless! Especially with this one! “I swear!”
Moon: Yes, it is. But it was too risky; we were almost caught!
Sun: Relax, brother; everything was under control.
Moon was looking at him with a skeptical face.
Sun: Okay… Maybe it wasn’t as perfect as I thought. But nobody will remember anything about what happened.
Moon: Did you forget that some of the people weren’t in the smoke? They just went out and chased us. I think it would be a problem if they told the guards everything.
Sun: Pffft, nobody will believe them; there are no witnesses, so we are safe.
Moon: Okay, maybe you're right. Whose last one is a rotten egg?
Sun: Hey! That’s not fair! I have a full bag!
Moon: Slowpoke!
Sun: Wait for me!!!
They ran in the race until they came to the abandoned roof house.
Sun: *pain* *paint* *paint* Oh god, I’m so tired. I barely can *paint* move.
And he fell and was lying on the floor. Moon came to him closely.
Moon: Heh, I won again!
Sun: It’s because you were too fast. I have a heavy bag, and I closed the hole with my hand!
Moon: That’s not the excuse! Just kidding
The sun and moon went to their secret lair. Everything was
Sun: Home, sweet home!
Moon: All right, let’s check what we got.
They took Sun’s bag and threw all the stolen things onto the table.
Sun: Let’s see... coins, necklaces, rings, jewels, oh, and even earrings!
Moon: How do these people get this? They look too expensive to have!
Sun: I don’t know, but the thing is that we have what we need, and we can sell some jewelry.
Moon: half of it.
He takes Sun’s bag and shows him a small hole the size of a coin. Sun nervously scratched his head.
Sun: Don’t worry, I will stitch it, and it will be like a new one!
Moon: *sigh* Oh, Sunny, you are impossible.
Sun: hehe
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bunkless-bed · 24 days
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that roadtrip didnt last long
(og meme template below cut)
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