#Succession S04E03

[ibetonlosingroys]

Invisible String

Part 1/2

Roman Roy/Reader

You attend your boyfriend's brother's wedding.

For everyone who just wanted Roman to get one single hug at Connor's wedding.

Spoilers for S04E03 Connor’s Wedding

Read on ao3:

You stand by a floor to ceiling window, sipping on a champagne flute, wary not to drink so much you get drunk, not yet at least. By the time you hit the dance floor at the reception though, you plan on being nice and tipsy. You and Roman have a tendency to draw some attention at these events but you treasure the moments with the two of you, in front of the whole world, displaying how much you love the man you are with for everyone to see. Neither of you can really dance, but the champagne helps.

You scan the modest crowd for him as you nod politely at the discussion of table settings that Willa’s mother has wrapped you into for the past several minutes, but Roman is still nowhere to be found, having slipped off to a private room with his siblings to handle business matters. At their brother’s wedding. Because of course. Roman has kept you in the loop as best as he is able, and while he assures you repeatedly that their plan is a good one and will put them in the best position, you can’t help the tug in your heart you feel watching him slip once again into this deranged cat and mouse game with his father. You realized quickly it was naive to think he would take the sale as an opportunity to get out for good, and while it has been heartening, if not a bit foreign, to see him fall into step with his siblings in such a unified way, you’re troubled by the stress lines you can see forming on his face before he even opens his eyes in the morning. Maybe it’s time for a vacation. Not a Roy family mind fuck on a yacht, a real, honest to god vacation where you lay in the sun and don’t speak of the stock market or ATTN or Lukas Mattson.

Your daydreaming is cut off sharply when you spot Kendall and Shiv out of the corner of your eye. Exhaling deeply and subtly craning your neck, you search for a trace of your boyfriend, more than ready for him to rescue you from this conversation. However, he isn’t trailing behind like you expected him to be, he isn’t anywhere you can see. Your eyes flick back and forth as you try not to draw any unnecessary attention to whatever scheme may be in motion, but all you can see is Kendall and Shiv, hands clasped as they make a beeline for Connor. Without Roman.

Heat rushes to your ears and finally, you find enough of a break in conversation to excuse yourself, refreshing your drink in an effort to keep this flood of panic at bay. In an instant, you are back in that castle in Italy, watching helplessly as Roman falls apart in a way you didn’t think he was capable of. Your world shattered right alongside him and from that moment on you swore to yourself you’d do everything in your power to prevent anything from hurting him like that again. Judging by the stricken looks on Kendall and Shiv’s faces as they discreetly usher Connor towards the back room, you may have already failed to make good on that promise. You find yourself wondering what more Logan could have possibly done. Hasn’t he betrayed them enough, wounded them enough for several lifetimes without heaping on whatever emotionally violent corporate move he’s made now to put that look back on his kids’ faces.

Your instinct is to follow them, every muscle in your body taught, screaming at you to run to Roman. You want to scoop him up and take him away from whatever horrors he’s enduring in that room. But you also know Roman, better than most, and you know that what he likely needs most of all right now is his siblings in that room with him. You have the sense that this is not a moment for you to bust up, that when Roman needs you, you will know. So you do what you think will help him the most, you play the part. You sip on your drink, you politely mill through the floor of people, exchanging pleasantries, all the while keeping one eye on that door that’s transformed into a looming monster in your mind. It’s become a pandora’s box really, as long as it stays shut, you can tell yourself that everything is fine and you’ve read too much into what will turn out to be a very insignificant moment in time. Comforted slightly by this new narrative, you make your way back to the drink table, depositing your empty glass and contemplating your next course of action when you’re interrupted by a hand on the small of your back. Breathing a shallow sigh of relief, you turn, prepared to laugh with your boyfriend about how skilled your mind is at playing tricks on you, but instead you are met with his brother.

“Ken?” you try experimentally, the blood in your veins having run cold. There is a sheen of sweat on his brow, snot pooled under his nose as he looks at you carefully with a tight lipped expression. Wordlessly, he begins leading you by the arm towards the private room, and you are crushed with the understanding that, in no uncertain terms, this is really bad. Once out of earshot of most of the partygoers, you try again, “Is he okay?” No response, but you feel the hand on your forearm tremble a bit. “What happened?” Kendall stops with one hand on the door, looking quickly to ensure no one else had made their way up the stairs before clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah, so,” he casts his eyes skyward before continuing, “Dad is dead.” It’s like the floor has dropped out from under you. You were prepared for any combination of business jargon word salad as he explained the new way Logan had fucked them, but not this. “My God, Kendall,” your hands fly to his shoulders in a vain attempt at comfort, “I-I’m so sorry.” Your mind is swirling with questions and exclamations and pure shock, but it is all you can think to say. He nods, patting the back of your hand with his and sniffles in acknowledgement. “I just think that he needs you, or will need you,” he nods in the direction of the room and you ferociously bite back the tremble in your voice, “Of course, I’m here.” You hope you sound steadier than you feel.

Kendall’s hand turns on the door handle, and your mind is overwhelmed with one repeated thought, like a sick mantra, “He can’t handle this.” Entering the room, your eyes lock on Roman immediately, slumped, sitting cross legged on the floor. A thick veil of grief and disbelief cloaks the room, suffocating, making you almost choke on your words as you offer condolences to Connor with a quick squeeze of the shoulder, and to Shiv with an embrace. You feel slightly out of place, enveloped in this moment that does not belong to you so you quickly make your way to Roman’s side, a place where you are always meant to be. He doesn’t look at you, you can’t see if he’s been crying or any way his features may be contorted, but you instantly feel his fingers tug on the hem of your dress, rubbing the fabric back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Your throat is dry and your mind runs a mile a minute, not just with the question of what to say to the man you love when his father dies, but with the question of what to say when that father is Logan Roy. You settle on, “Hi, you,” and there he is. His eyes travel up to yours, cold and guarded, but wide, and so so scared. “Can I sit?” you ask, and he nods stiffly before you slide down to join him, grasping his clammy, shaky hand in your own.

Roman’s eyes are dry as he surveys the room, finding his siblings wrapped up in their own conversation and his voice trembles, “I-I can’t,” he stammers, unable to find the words. “I know,” you assure him. “I don’t think I told him I loved him,” he gulps, chest rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his hair. “Rome.” you bring your palm to his face, waiting for his eyes to settle on yours before continuing, “You loved him.” There may be a lot about Roman’s relationship with his father that didn’t make sense to you, but this you are sure of with absolute certainty. “What do you need?” you ask, rubbing a slow circle on his cheek with your thumb. He recoils then, clambering to his feet as his focus darts around the room. “I don’t need anything. This isn’t anything, this is - fuck! Nothing’s happened and we don’t know anything so this is all…” he trails off, waving his hands wildly and capturing the attention of his siblings who turned their focus on him.

“Roman,” Kendall approaches him as you would a spooked animal, “We know,” he starts, seemingly expecting the response he gets. “Fuck you! Come on, this is insane!” Roman raises his voice, “This doesn’t happen!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking for someone to back him up. Instead, Shiv approaches him too. “I think it happened though, Rome,” her voice is gentle, and holds a lost quality you are not accustomed to hearing from her. “Shiobhan,” his attempt to mock her falls flat and he spins wildly towards Connor. “And don’t look at me with your fucking sad eyes, fuck!” he exclaims before marching to the far window and pressing his forehead to the glass. “My eyes are sad,” Connor offers, matter of factly from across the room. You take in the three of them standing there in that moment, looking unmoored and far younger than when they first entered this room. These are the Roy children without Logan to orbit, and they are looking to you expectantly to keep the fourth one from spinning out.

“He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this,” the mantra continues, louder and louder in your head with each step you take towards Roman, silenced only when you place a firm hand on his back. He’s sucking in his upper lip and avoiding your gaze, telltale Roman signs that he is fighting back tears. “You know,” you begin, soft enough that no one else in the room will hear, “you are allowed to cry if you want to.” He blinks but doesn’t immediately shut the conversation down, emboldening you to keep going. “This is actually like The time to cry if you really think about it. Someone would have to be a special kind of fucked up to say shit to you right now.” There it is, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips and he whispers, “Hot.”

[tv-moments]

Succession

Season 4, “Connor's Wedding”

Director: Mark Mylod

DoP: Patrick Capone

[thismustbetheblog]

No one: ...

My mind trying to sleep: Logan Roy, an Irish goodbye...

[scarysanctuary]

Well, I feel traumatized

[industryhbo]

SUCCESSION S04E03 “Connor's Wedding”

[divorcedtom]

SUCCESSION S04E03

[bladesrunner]

What do you think? It's cancel, yeah? — I think it is cancel. — What do we tell them? I mean, everyone will assume that it's you backing out, and that's fine.

SUCCESSION (2018–2023) S04E03: Connor's Wedding

[lousolversons]

SUCCESSION | S03E08 / S04E03

[successionable]

SUCCESSION - S04E01 x S04E02 x S04E03 x S04E04

"Don't. You'll regret it."

it's Tom's dead eyes when Shiv says something needlessly mean in an attempt to vent her frustrations and/or get a rise out of him for me

[ibetonlosingroys]

Invisible String

Part 2/2

Spoilers for S04E03 Connor’s Wedding

Read on ao3:

After the boat docks, after the press conference and the flurry of reporters with their cameras and their microphones and their questions devoid of any human sympathy, all that remains is Kendall, Roman, and a private jet, containing within it the body of Logan Roy. You had watched from your place on the sidelines as Tom gathered Shiv in his arms before the two of them rode off in a company car, and while that may have been an appropriate time for you to go to Roman, you felt frozen. It’s true that throughout your relationship, you had seen him through a variety of familial angst, trauma, and misery; but you had never weathered a storm of this magnitude with him. What if you couldn’t do it? What if he broke so fully and completely that you would be unable to piece him back together? You had been so consumed by the fear of Roman being unable to handle this that you hadn’t stopped to consider whether or not you could.

It was time for that answer to reveal itself as while you were lost in your panicked musings, Roman had appeared at your side, sliding his clammy hand into yours. You offer a soft squeeze as he clears his throat, “I’m uh, I’m going to go see him,” he says avoiding your gaze, “Will you come with me?” Your mind races a mile a minute. Are you really about to see a dead body, do you even want to? Immediately though, a response tumbles out of your mouth on its own, “Of course.” He looks at you then, a tight lipped grimace and you decide in that instant that you can do this. You will do this, in fact you can’t imagine being anywhere other than by his side, offering any modicum of stability as his very universe shifts on its axis.

You fall in step together, walking what feels like an impossibly long distance to the plane, an ambulance ready to take Logan away. The sight of it makes the events of the past few hours feel all too real, and Roman’s grip becomes crushing in your hand. “We can leave if you want,” you whisper to him, “You call the shots. It’s not like he’ll be mad at you.” He laughs at that, thin and breathless “Shiv said the same thing,” he shakes his head. “Well then it must be true.” You tug gently on his arm, giving him the opportunity to walk away right now, before that airplane door opens and he sees something that can never be unseen, but he stands firm. “No, I want to see. I think I… I think I need to,” his free hands flails around as if searching for something to grab hold of. You understand. You had heard how confused and lost he sounded back on the boat, insisting that they couldn’t be sure he was dead.

Well now he could be sure. Two paramedics exit the private jet, carrying between them a lifeless body on a stretcher covered by a white cloth. It struck you just then, the sheer magnitude of events that all stemmed from the body in front of you. It’s almost shocking that a man whose presence was so large, whose actions triggered such massive domino effects of consequences could just be gone. Responsible for global tragedies, and tragedies on a much more insular level, as you were reminded by the trembling hand within yours. You snake your other hand around his bicep, hoping to steady him as the stretcher passes by the two of you to be loaded in the ambulance,

A few choked sounds escape Roman and you sneak a glance at his face. His eyes remain dry, as they have been the entire day, but grief has contorted his face into a nearly unrecognizable expression. Brow furrowed, lips pinched downward as his throat continued forcing as much emotion down as possible. It was as if he was fighting a war within himself, one that would certainly end in carnage.

The ambulance pulled away and Logan was really and truly gone. The echoes of him however, you were nearly positive those wouldn’t be going anywhere. Allowing Roman to take the lead, you turn on your heel as he does, offering a wave to Kendall as you cross his path. There’s a full moon overhead and you don’t remember it becoming nighttime. You point to the sky and catch the ghost of a smile passing over Roman’s lips. “Good moon,” he says softly before sliding into the backseat of the car. Sitting by his side, you allow yourself a longer look at him, taking in all of his features and seeing a different man than the one you left home with this morning. “I don’t believe it,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I know,” you say, “We’ll be home soon,” you brush a stray piece of hair off his forehead and he closes his eyes, the harsh lines on his face never smoothing out. You don’t look away from him the entire journey home, monitoring each breath, sniffle, and fidget.

The two of you all but tumble through the doorway to your home, even the familiar furnishings and decor feeling somehow wrong on a day like this. You lock the door behind you, and you and Roman are finally alone. Away from prying eyes, away from conversations of business, and questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, he was finally in his home, with you. Only then did he allow that wall to come down, and with it came a floodgate.

Before your brain could even catch up to what you saw, Roman made a beeline for the bathroom, collapsing harshly to his knees as he was overcome by a bout of retching, choking, and spitting. In what could have only been a few seconds, you were there to steady him and rub comforting circles on his back. He moaned brokenly into the toilet bowl as you watched him vomit up what seemed like more food than you had ever seen him eat. “Let it all out babe, don’t fight it,” you encourage, feeling his stomach muscles spasm and contract until all that’s left to come out is stringy bile. “God that’s gross,” he rubs the palms of his hands deep into his eye sockets, as if he can force the fallen tears back in. “Think you’re done?’ you ask only to be met with another groan, “For now,” he answers. “Okay, let’s just sit here a minute,” you lean back against the wall and want nothing more than to snatch him into your arms, but instead allow him to set his own pace, slowly deflating against your chest as you squeeze him tight.

The silence is brief, broken by Roman clearing his throat. “He wasn’t a good guy,” he practically whispers and you hold him impossibly tighter. “No, he wasn’t,” you agree. “I did love him though,” he says even quieter and you respond just as fiercely, “You did, I know that you did.” He shakes in your arms and stammers out the beginning of several abandoned sentences before giving in. And he cries, because what else is there to do. He cries like someone who has been holding it in their entire life. His hands grip at the collar of your dress as he takes a shuddering breath to propel him into a fresh round of sobs, each one stabbing right into your chest. You offer no words of comfort, because there are none.

[holly-mckenzie]

BEEF S01E05 “Such Inward Secret Creatures” (2023) dir. by Hikari SUCCESSION S04E03 “Connor's Wedding” (2023) dir. by Mark Mylod

[thismustbetheblog]

Obsessed that none of them bothered to tell Connor hahahhaha

[queenmakings]

SUCCESSION S04E03 / S04E08

[deathshallbenomore]

it’s so hilarious though that succession s04e03 happened right the weekend berlusconi is in icu

[go-to-the-mirror]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Relationship: Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble

Characters: Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Donna Noble

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Post-Episode: s04e02 The Fires of Pompeii, Post-Episode: s04e03 Planet of the Ood, Post-Episode: s04e06 The Doctor's Daughter, Post-Episode: s04e10 Midnight, POV Donna Noble, Literal Sleeping Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, < because i didnt want to deal with The Thoughts, yes i am painfully aware of the irony, He/Him and It/Its Pronouns for Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), The Doctor & Donna Noble Friendship, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Has C-PTSD - Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Words: 942

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Donna tries to get the Doctor to sleep, to mixed success. --- The Doctor doesn’t respond, so Donna continues. “You just run all the time, spaceman.” “Keeps things interesting,” the Doctor says. “Keeps you from thinking.” There’s a pause, before the Doctor says, “Yeah.” --- Written for Whumptober 2023, day 12. Prompt used is insomnia.

“You look tired,” Donna says.

It’s right after Pompeii and they’re curled up in one of the TARDIS’s rooms, half watching a movie — she thinks it’s a Monty Python thing, but she’s never seen it before, not that she’s paying much attention. It’s just something to have in the background so they don’t have to talk — about what happened in Pompeii, about what the Doctor told her about its people.

“Just a long day,” the Doctor answers.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not tired.”

The Doctor glances over to her, face unreadable, and shrugs.

The subject is dropped, like most subjects are that day.

---

“How does the telepathy work?” asks Donna.

They’re sitting on the floor of the main room, the Doctor fixing something and Donna handing him tools.

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asks. “Hand me the, um—“ it makes a grabbing motion with his hands, and Donna hands him the pliers.

“You said you have telepathy, and the Oods are also telepathic. Do you sing like them?”

The Doctor shakes his head. “No, when I’m not touching someone, my telepathy’s usually… more low level.”

“Yeah?”

“Constant empathetic telepathy. I feel what people are feeling. Works best with other telepathic creatures.”

“And when you’re touching someone?”

“I could make you hear the Ood,”

“And that’s it?”

The Doctor leans back from what he’s working on and takes its glasses off. “No, I can do more. Time Lords have quite powerful telepathy, actually. Oods are just a bit more… versatile, I suppose.”

“Are they going to be okay?”

The Doctor turns to look at Donna, then shrugs. “If the humans don’t try anything, they should be alright.”

“And if they do?”

“Oods have no defences. No natural predators. They’re like… dodos, or penguins. On Earth.”

“The dodos are all dead.”

“But the penguins aren’t,” the Doctor counters. “We can go back sometime, see if they’re still alright.”

“I’d like that,” Donna says, holding back a yawn. “Long day. I’m going to go to bed. You coming, spaceman?”

“Going to work on this a bit more. You think about where we’re going.”

“I don’t even know what options there are.”

The Doctor grins up at her. “Fine, we’ll put her on random again. Whole universe to explore!”

“Is that why you never sleep?”

The Doctor waves her off. “I sleep plenty.”

---

“Do you want to just take a break? Get some sleep, have a day to just… process it all?”

The Doctor looks up from the guidebook of the city they’re in — Donna still hasn’t been able to understand what any of the Doctor’s rambling explanations actually mean, but she’s fairly sure they’re underneath an ocean, an ocean that may be about to flood the place — but continues walking in front of her. Martian and its long legs.

“This is a break,” he answers.

“Yeah, so why are we speed-walking to the city council building?”

“Bit too urgent to take a stroll.”

“So, not a break, then.”

The Doctor stops, turns around, takes off his glasses. “There’s a whole universe to see, there’s a whole universe to save, people who need our help.”

“And you have a time machine.”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, so Donna continues. “You just run all the time, spaceman.”

“Keeps things interesting,” the Doctor says.

“Keeps you from thinking.”

There’s a pause, before the Doctor says, “Yeah.”

---

“You look exhausted.”

“I am,” the Doctor answers, and Donna knows it’s bad when he doesn’t try to deny it.

“I should have been there,” Donna says and the Doctor shrugs.

“I don’t think it would’ve changed anything.”

“I would’ve stopped them.”

The Doctor shrugs again, then is quiet, before Donna stands up.

“Come on, let’s go.”

She walks with the Doctor to the TARDIS. It’s quiet, unbearably quiet. Things just aren’t quiet with the Doctor, things aren’t still, and yet the alien next to her is both.

“Go to sleep,” she says. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

It looks at her, and she hates it when his face is blank like that, because she knows him well enough now to know what it means.

“I don’t want to just lie there,” it says, and that’s wrong too, because it’s not part of their little song and dance. Donna says he needs to sleep, the Doctor says it doesn’t want to sleep because there’s a whole universe out there, Donna infers it’s because he doesn’t want to be without a distraction. It’s not supposed to say it himself. It’s not supposed to look so bloody defeated.

“Would it help if I was there?”

The Doctor pauses, then nods.

---

“Glad I finally got you to actually sleep,” Donna says.

It’s been… well, time is difficult, but it’s been a little while since Donna first suggested they sleep in the same bed. They’re like kids at a sleepover, one’s feet by the other’s head, chattering away until they both fall asleep. It’s actually working, as far as Donna can tell. At least he’s a bit more willing to actually go to sleep when it doesn’t entail lying in a dark room for however long it actually takes to nod off.

“Glad I finally got you to stop bringing it up all the time,” the Doctor responds.

It gets nightmares sometimes, Donna thinks, but she’s a heavy sleeper, always has been, and mostly only notices when she wakes up and it’s not there.

“Yeah, well, now you don’t look like you could get knocked over by a strong breeze.”

The Doctor scoffs. “I can take worse than a strong breeze,”

“I said looks, didn’t I?”

The Doctor climbs under the covers. “Goodnight, Donna.”

“Night, spaceman.”

[divorcedtom]

SUCCESSION S04E03