if anyone still exists here, i have moved shiv to @shivhood!

oozey mess

#extradirty
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
wallacepolsom
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies
hello vonnie

pixel skylines
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kaledo Art
RMH
Sade Olutola
$LAYYYTER
cherry valley forever

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
KIROKAZE
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin

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@shivnation
if anyone still exists here, i have moved shiv to @shivhood!
the buttress - brutus / kenshiv
thinking of making a comeback to this blog in the near future! life has been a little crazy for awhile but i'm finally feeling good/like i'm capable of being here on a decent schedule. (maybe not 100% consistently but enough to where... shiv could be on a solo blog again.)
Truth is, I probably should never have had children. You made the right decision. Some people just aren’t made to be mothers.
Succession 4.10, "With Open Eyes"; Marguerite Duras, The Lover, trans. Barbara Bray
@towerfell said: if we get through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff... normally?
they're too honest with one another. (or, at least, want to be honest with each other. the first step to any healthy relationship.)
that's both their blessing and curse in their respected lines of work. their entire lives, there's always been one rule to forever follow: you don't stray from family. (and you certainly don't sleep with the enemy behind closed doors.) she'd already broken two of the principal rules as she lies starfish on silk linen.
another tryst in the grand ambassador hotel in downtown los angeles, hidden from the world behind the big white doors. a business trip with a rogue, off the record/off the books business expense of a single room within the hotel. nothing too fancy to draw attention, but enough to swindle the transaction over accountings' eyes.
propping herself up on her elbows, an eyebrow raises as her gaze is directed onto fallon— zipper coming to a clasp onto her dress. "uh, i thought we did talk to each other about stuff normally?" it's a lie straight through her teeth, but maybe if she furrows her eyebrows enough— maybe fallon will believe her.
shiv knows what fallon's getting at, and it's something she's not quite ready to discuss. (she'll never be ready to discuss a relationship without skeletons trapped in a closet. a relationship where they can be honest with one another. with themselves.)
for now, she'll play the dumb girlfriend. (and dumb wife later.)
"if there's something you want to talk about, we can talk about it?"
@rvolving said: we don't have any feelings, what are you talking about?
the scene is set: another secret liaison in a hotel. phones turned off, a do-not-disturb sign slung on the doorknob as the two sneak behind the backs of their partners. as the world continues to rotate and grow, somethings never change. (they do say old habits die hard, after all.)
tangled in the bedsheets, pillow talk swerves into a lane of discussion she didn't mean to bring up. it's a car crash awaiting to happen and shiv can picture the damage incoming. his words halt a further conversation from occurring, though; a translation for jest hitting the atmosphere.
shiv's not sure if nate's able to read her and the faltering expression across her features, or if he's genuinely joking. either way: she'll take it with a crashing wave of relief. feet kicking his beneath the linens, the corners of her lips curve into a smile.
"i mean, we have some feelings. clearly, something, or else we wouldn't be here." it's only natural for two consenting adults who find each other attractive to act on it. (maybe not when both parties are in relationships. albeit, evidently, not loving relationships, but she figures if a god exists— they'll smite her some day.)
"i like spending time with you, sofrelli. we have fun together. always have."
set the scene setting prompts (but a little more specific) from yours truly.
001, a convenience store past midnight.
002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning.
003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.
004, an indoor filming set of a detective's office.
005, a new house/apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes.
006, a swing set in an empty playground at night.
007, on stage in an empty theatre.
008, inside an old abandoned house.
009, an empty cemetery at night.
010, the arrival hall at an airport.
011, the last train compartment that's not full.
012, the roulette table in a casino.
013, on the deck of a cruise ship.
014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles.
015, a treehouse in the middle of the woods.
016, on the dance floor during a wedding.
017, behind the chapel before the wedding ceremony starts.
018, backstage during the middle of a concert.
019, a crowded club during a bachelorette party.
020, standing in front of a painting at a museum.
021, a small, intimate family barbecue.
022, a gazebo while it's raining.
023, the back of an empty bus.
024, a hotel room with only one bed.
025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside.
026, a bar just after closing.
027, an empty sports stadium.
028, lakeside while the sun is setting.
030, an empty stretch of road beside a broken down car.
031, in front of a suspicious pool of blood in an empty parking lot.
032, in the crowd of spectators during an underground fight.
033, a plane during a bout of turbulence.
034, on kiss cam at a sports game.
035, at a table during a charity gala.
036, a masquerade ball.
037, a halloween party in a suburban house.
038, the beach in the late afternoon.
039, a dressing room after a big performance.
040, exploring the depths of a mysterious cave.
I REALLY WANT THIS! REALLY, I WANNA BE SITTING AT THAT TABLE.
independent shiv roy of hbo's succession. developed by kim. mature themes / 21+.
back from barbie and had a great time <3
@sicparvismusings said: we should be good people. wouldn’t it be nice to wake up in the morning and not feel like a fucking piece of shit?
actions have consequences. it's a lesson shiv learned the night of the election. as atn basked in the victory of their new president-elect, her dream died. mencken in office set her plans back with matsson back by a mile. roman had mencken wrapped around his finger, too. by all angles, she was fucked and had to face the possibility of a future with kendall as ceo.
the next morning, she'd sworn to rise from her bed. to do something. anything besides mope in bed, curtains closed, awaiting a phone call from either brother or matsson. when the sun rose and her phone hadn't rang by noon, she made a judgement call.
a quick one that's landed her in the hot seat of joanna's question.
one quick text message asking if the future first lady would like to grab lunch, now has the two women seated across from each other. the question strikes a nerve in shiv, enough to send chills down her spine. "the day i win a battle, i'll transform into a good person." at least being a piece of shit gets her somewhere. anywhere but the bottom of the barrel.
"wouldn't it be nice to wake up in the morning and actually fucking win for once?"
the development from politics era shiv and her driving need of gaining acceptance from her father/wanting that golden ticket into the company. her chance to finally shine and show logan what she’s capable of. what she’s made of. that she’s the son he never had. she can fill the void that’s forever been there in his successor. when shiv is finally invited into the company and told she’ll eventually inherit everything with time, it’s the first time everything feels so warm and real for the first time in her entire life; the puzzle is finally completed/the pieces finally find all their correct spots. only it’s not, which transcends into the waystar royco era of shiv. what’s driving her isn’t that fight for acceptance anymore, it’s fighting to keep the position she’s left everything for. she’s fought so hard for this chance and when it’s given to her, it’s at the cost of throwing away her other career. the career her father ultimately disagreed with from the start, since shiv worked with politicians who disliked him. her fight is for everything for not to have been for nothing, which ultimately at the end of the day, it sadly was. she didn’t rise to the position of ceo, her lowly-grade husband did. (and not even because he earned the position, just because he’s a good mask for the job.) she got mommed. shiv is forever doomed by the narrative of getting mommed.
SHIV ROY 3.01, “Secession”
@evildoes said: oh really? it's not cool to tell the president to blow me?
"oh, i know who you are now— you're that fucking anti-supe guy." she recognizes the face— can't quite place a name to it, but she recognizes his face from an atn segment on terrorism being committed to supes. granted, it was a security camera they'd shown the footage from, so her vision could be off.
but, she isn't that old yet.
calm demeanor displayed, shiv can play it cool. if he can play it cool— she can play it cool too. (not that she believes everything atn showcases. most of it is right-wing propaganda built of lies and conspiracies. but, if this guy's face was on a fucking security camera for anti-supe terrorism— footage doesn't lie, nor does the small room they’re confined within.)
eyes glancing over, the president's being shuffled out of the conference room. hand-in-hand with a secret service agent as he shakes members of the press hands with his other. with the president secured, she can focus a little better at the matter at hand: possible anti-supe terrorist in the waystar royco building. it sounds fucking crazy in shiv's head, and hopefully— maybe today, he'll find it just as fucking crazy.
"uh, look, clearly you have some type of issue with the president. that's fine, just... take it outside the building?" she wouldn't want that shiny plague with her last name sprawled across it getting destroyed.
@fevrality said: oh, you’re such a fucking bitch.
they've always been like two kids on the playground in kindergarten, fighting for the last seat on the swing-set. it always ends with one being pulled away from the other, as the latter cries and goes to the nurse's office. parents get called, the kids are sent home, one goes home to ice cream and love, while the other goes home to a scolding and spanking.
sadly, this is not the playground nor kindergarten. this is the middle of bum-fuck nowhere in the wilderness, while in a life-or-death situation requiring mass participation out of teenage girls and a few others. shiv wasn't keen to admit it, but their chances were slim-to-none. they were fucked.
what's the consequence of being trapped in the wilderness, with nothing to do but argue back with this bitch? besides presumed future death, nothing.
"say it to my fucking face— don't say it when my back's turned away, nat." back turned away from natalie, shiv swiftly turns away, expression reading somewhere on the verge of murder. feet picking up their pace, she doesn't stop walking until she's mere inches away from the blonde, eyes peering directly into hers.
"say it."
@evildoes said: some guy with an undercut just called me soy boy.
welcome to new york city, where the residents don't sleep and their attitude expose as much. his comment goes without notice, earning a chuckle in response as she smooths her pantsuit.
she's heard of the adler family in passing; a wealth family with ties to the roy family somewhere along the line. whether to her father or mother, she doesn't know and frankly, shiv doesn't care. what matters is who she's meeting with: rafe adler, the son of said-family, a businessman looking to steer away from the tit. (words of her father— not her.)
it's not much of a wonder as to why her father sent her to meet with him, the announcement of her coming up in the business looming in the distance. soon, the winning crown would be placed upon her head and she will have conquered the biggest game of all: becoming ceo of waystar royco.
and she can't wait to see the look across everyone's face. she'll relish in the sight.
"i hope being called a soy boy didn't damage your ego too much." with the charm and style of a roy, she flashes a smile. (stroke his ego, pet him enough to unloosen his tie— but not enough to leave him with a hard-on in the middle of the restaurant. play the long game.)
pushing her menu aside, she takes a sip from her nearby water. "was it the host up front? i can submit a complaint, if you'd like?"
#: 025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside. @siovan, shiv roy.
amidst the tapestry of laughter and merriment that ebbed and flowed through the mansion like waves cruising over an unsullied shore, the forgotten balcony was the haven to a social battery waning. the mask slips the moment the crisp, pastoral air passes over his skin: the contagion of the cities they frequented had lodged itself bone-deep, a slow-moving rot that had tarred his insides. (but the country estate had soon blown out the cobwebs that had manifested there, though the critters remained ever-present, ready to remodel at a moment's notice.) his form is reclined against the balcony stone, with a cigarette that he was not really smoking dividing two fingers that quietly billowed itself into the balmy evening. detachment dwells on a pensive expression, brows hooked to the bridge of his nose, not in annoyance, but something rather like an awayness belonging to a sudden need for introspection. he wouldn't ever admit to such a vast feeling of sudden melancholy, not even to shiv: his frame positioned against the inky bed yonder, he feels like he could simply succumb to the darkness completely. like he could disappear.
❛ how much longer do we have to stay here? ❜ vincent asks tactlessly, his endlessly observant nature meaning that his attention need not turn to the form outlined in his periphery, knowing completely by the shift in the air alone that it is his partner that decided to join his company. business associates, mariage de convenance. in spite of that, vincent was fond of shiv in his own, muted kind of manner, as he was sure she was of him: but it didn't always mean that he felt comfortable enough to share his inexpressible toil. he only ever really committed to bitching savagely in that incessant, dog-with-a-bone kind of way that they each seemed to share a pleasant humour in. in the way it meant that things never felt too serious.
there’s always a hint of remorse in her gut when she drags him to these type of events. she know he hates them; she doesn’t need the groans and moans as he’s getting dressed, or the nasty glances in the car ride to the venue, to expose his disdain towards them. he wouldn’t need to do anything for the picture to be painted. shiv knows because she, herself, hates these kinds of gatherings. and if she hates it, so does vincent. marriage at its finest.
the balcony is quiet in comparison to the bustling mansion; mumbled voices seeping through the glass windowpanes, clatter from kitchenware from the nearby kitchen quarters. the periodic horn from new york city traffic rings out, a reminder they’re not the only people in the world— even if, at this very moment, they do.
he’s always been one to keep his distance, even as the time passes. shiv doesn’t pry because granted, she doesn’t want him to pry. some boxes are simply better locked up for good, and she appreciates him allowing her privacy. for allowing her skeletons to remain locked in the closet, both past and current. but this is minuscule; this is a wife simply looking after her husband.
nothing more, nothing less.
“another hour tops. maybe a hour and a half, give or take.” breaking the distance between them, prada heels click against the concrete— fingers snatching the cigarette from his digits once in reach. a quick drag is taken before she exhales, smoke billowing into the air. “these things are lame, i know, but you know how the game goes. shake a few more hands, kiss a few more asses, and tonight will be over before we even know it.” a final hit is taken from the cigarette before she extends it back towards him, body leaning against the balcony’s railing.
“i appreciate you coming tonight, for what it’s worth.” it makes the evening more bearable knowing she’s not suffering alone. she’ll make sure to repay him later for his sacrificing his evening.