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yinyangyandere · 5 months ago

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ll Yandere Anxiety HCs 🧡

[SPOILERS FOR INSIDE OUT 2]

Synopsis; A long list of headcanons on how I think Anxiety would be like as a yandere, as well as somewhat of a fanfic

ll Caution: General Yandere Mindset, Mental Manipulation, Betrayal, Obsessive/Possessive Behaviors, Bad Ending, Possible OOC Writing

A.N.; Not me literally writing a 9-page Google HC Doc yandere scenario for an emotion jfnjrndjnredj3j3er But seriously, I love Anxiety so much. I felt like she had a good deal of nuance to her character, in-between her wanting to help Riley for the future with good intentions in mind, but executing it poorly. Should go without saying she’s probably my fave in the franchise, and one of my fave Disney characters now.

At the same time, I noticed a lot of her behavior could potentially be ripe for a depiction where she wanted to protect Riley SO much that she’d do anything for her. Eventually, that led to me making this; it should be noted that you are not Riley in this though. It’s intended to be a what-if situation, if OG Anxiety displayed yandere-typical behavior and was inside your head instead. Hope that makes sense.

Anyways, make sure to acknowledge the warnings before reading further! If any of the above topics make you feel even a bit uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to look out for yourself and click off. Your mental health is important!

If anyone needs anything additional tagged, I’ll do so and edit the post with the added warning. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

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First things first, I’m so sorry for you; imagine having a yandere that exists solely in your head, and no matter how hard you try to get rid of them, they’ll always be there. They exist as essentially a part of you, and removal of such things is far from easy. Especially so if that yandere in question is a personification of an emotion, which leads me to your lovesick “headmate” today: Anxiety.

🧡 ll Start:

She first showed up when you first began your puberty, similarly to Riley’s Anxiety from the movie. Like the others, she adores you and only wishes for the best when it comes to you. But all the while, the love Anxiety felt for you was growing more and more with each passing day, much more exponentially than what the other emotions in HQ felt.

Unconsciously, she slips her way into becoming the lead emotion, making you become an overall cautious individual as a whole. The others mostly disapproved of this, but they still went along with what Anxiety had in store for you since she could be pretty good at persuading everyone else into what she wanted.

Anxiety would, of course, step back so the rest can help you when needed, but as time went on, the other emotions needed to be more insistent on getting Anxiety to back down from the Control Panel. It had gotten to the point where Anxiety was basically piloting you for nearly the entire day without any of their input!

However, an awful pit in her stomach grew as well. Anxiety couldn’t help but squeeze her criss-crossed arms together as she observed your Joy manipulate the panel. ‘You were doing just fine with me in control!’ Anxiety couldn’t help but think to herself. ‘There’s no reason why I needed to step down!’

This feeling, this thought, persisted through multiple days and weeks. All the while, scenarios of you having a bad future because one of them made a mistake replayed on loop inside the girl’s head. She could’ve stepped in and stopped them, making sure you were safe, but she didn’t! She wouldn’t ever be able to forgive herself if she couldn’t protect you!

Anxiety, while she disliked these feelings, grew into someone who didn’t talk much to the others. She became antisocial, only focusing on tending to you and ensuring both your safety and happiness.

Sleepless nights and jealousy-filled days passed, and her obsession towards you never waned in the slightest. It grew, larger and more present, until it encompassed her entire life in her eyes. Anxiety lay awake one night, eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling. Her mind just wouldn’t stop racing, thinking of you and how she could help you so much more if she was more in-control of things around here.

…Wait. Maybe…if she was more in-control…the sole emotion to take care of the Control Panel…

That idea persisted inside her head for days on end. She didn’t talk to the others during this time, refusing to answer their questions on why she was acting so weird and off recently. They wouldn’t understand. They’re your emotions, yeah, but Anxiety was your main one! She was the one who made sure you’d be protected in any situation!

Finally, it all came to a head when your Joy pointed out how obsessive Anxiety has been over you. The others agreed with Joy, and seeing everyone else loom over her with those questioning looks of theirs made Anxiety feel trapped. In an uncharacteristic act of rage from her, Anxiety shouted back at them, yelling that they would never be able to understand how she’d feel and that she was the only person there who truly cares for you. She stormed off before anyone else could retort back.

When she came back, in the middle of the night, she wasn’t alone. Alongside her was the Mind Police; she was able to convince them that the emotions there were actually rogue secrets and that the real ones are missing. Anxiety watched silently, fidgeting, unable to stop the slight guilt in her heart as she watched her former friends be pulled away and be stuck inside the Vault. ‘It’s for you,’ Anxiety reassured herself, talking about…well, about you. ‘Everything I’m doing is for you.’

It was weird at first, adjusting to being the only emotion left inside H Q, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Since, as the days ticked onwards, Anxiety swooned over you, sometimes talking to you as if you’d be able to respond back to her. Finally, she had you all to herself, and she’ll guarantee that she’d be able to keep you from harm’s reach while being able to bask in all of you.

🧡 ll Further Descent:

Boy, if you thought Anxiety had gone off the deep-end before, she certainly has now. Her days and nights are completely consumed by you. HQ is absolutely covered in drawings and little origami depictions of both you and her (and, while she’d often blush while doing it, she also enjoyed treating them like dolls and making them give little kisses to one another). Interspruced with all of that is her written ramblings, and it felt like that the further you went down in her notes, the more fanatical it became.

Sometimes, she’d have small sparks of self-awareness. Anxiety will clean up HQ and tidy it, all while reminiscing on her love for you. These small moments of clarity will give her twinges of regret and doubt, but she’d push them all in the back of her mind in the end. After all, it’s for the greater good. She’d assure herself that she really was the only person who could truly be able to acknowledge everything about you until that assurance soon became a truth in her eyes. A stone-cold, unrelenting truth.

Meanwhile, you’d become much more nervous, “unstable” in some cases. Nowadays, you feel too apprehensive about going outside, quitting your in-person job in favor of an online or at-home one. Groceries are delivered to your door-step, and appointments you need to go to, like for a check-up or surgery, are done with great reluctance. After, you immediately rush back to the safety of your abode.

When it comes to social interactions, Anxiety also makes sure that, while you’d have friends, they wouldn’t get too close to you. She can’t have them hurting you, physically or emotionally! Though, deep down inside of her, Anxiety does feel a hint of possessiveness towards you, but it mostly comes out as her afraid for your well-being.

Crushes definitely are a no-go. Any attempts on trying to get closer to a love interest you may have is completely out of the question in the eyes of Anxiety. She’ll break the button that makes you feel socially-awkward if she has to.

Anxiety notices soon enough that your feelings of loneliness are increasing rapidly, and attempting to brainstorm an idea where both of you could be happy, a lightbulb goes off in her head.

She goes down to the studio where they produce your dreams, and through some sly convincing and surprising ability to help sway others to what she wants, Anxiety is able to control your dreams with full access. Now, she hopes that her plan will work.

🧡 ll Meeting You in Person:

Well, in-person is in very large quotation marks, but it’s the closest thing she can get to doing such a thing.

After making sure everything was in working order and looked good, Anxiety waited for night to come and for when it was finally time to reveal herself to you. The studio, while it mostly worked with actors, also had the option of summoning your consciousness in a tangible form; how else did you think those falling dreams would cause you to wake up violently right as you hit the ground? Though, Anxiety was using it for a much, much different purpose now.

She sweated bullets while she waited, stimming in both excitement and worry on how you’d react to her. Anxiety suddenly stood still when your eyes finally shut, signifying that it was time to enact her plan.

Pressing various buttons and switches, she grinned as the thing shuttered and spat out smoke before shooting a project of light from the machine’s camera. It morphed, taking form, until you were finally there right in front of Anxiety. You blinked, confused, before turning to the delighted squeak you heard.

You nearly barrelled over as you felt a sudden force of weight being flung right around your torso, and as you looked down through the wild forest of orange hair that somewhat covered your vision, you saw Anxiety tightly wrapped around you in a hug. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her smile beamed wider as she snuggled into you just a bit more.

“I…I finally get to see you,” you heard her mumble. “I never thought I would, but…here you are! With me!”

You gave her a confused expression, unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry, but, uh, do I know you?”

Anxiety’s eyes snapped open, tears wiped away in a flash, as she glanced up at you and immediately backed off. “O-oh, oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry; that was so dumb of me, ugh!” She muttered the last part under her breath.

What follows is what you’d expect: she explains to you that she’s your personification of Anxiety, but makes sure to add that she only steps in to prevent you from making possible bad decisions. At least, that’s partially true. Then, she gives you a small tour of the place, deciding to give you a tour of HQ another day (when she doesn’t have your face plastered all over the walls…). After, she insists to you that she’d do anything for you. Figuring that this was all a dream, you simply ask her for some levity from your struggles in reality. In short, you two have fun.

Anxiety is extremely reluctant to allow you to go, but she figures that it would be too suspicious and off-putting if she begged you to stay. When you awake, you just figure that it was some sort of strange lucid dream before going about your day.

So, it surprises you when you see Anxiety again the next night…and the next…and the next…and the next. Around the third time, you realize this is abnormal and start feeling uncomfortable around Anxiety. She notices, and asks you about it. You just wave it off, saying you’re a bit nervous for work tomorrow. Anxiety’s very doubtful, but she goes with it.

However, when she shows up again on the fourth night, you’ve had enough. You’re creeped out with her, and explain to a now very concerned Anxiety that she can’t be real. “I am!” She retorts back. “But-but that isn’t a bad thing! That just means you can talk to me if you have anything troubling you! Please, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you!”

Even though you did, in fact, run away from her that night, she just showed right back up again the next. What then happened was a repetitive cycle of you running away from Anxiety as she tries to explain her side of the story, waking up, and then going right back to Stage 1. You ask your doctors for a higher dosage of anxiety medication in hopes it would quell what you perceived as delusions. But no matter what you tried, no matter what medicine you took, Anxiety will always be the first thing you “wake” up to.

It had maybe been almost two weeks when you finally relented. Anxiety, however, seemed a bit snarky. “So, have you finally run all out-of-steam? Can I finally get to tell you what’s going on?!”

It took you a few seconds to reply. “...Yeah. Go ahead.”

She let out a sigh of relief, before she explained more on why she’s being so persistent with you. She figured that, since your life wasn’t the best at the moment, Anxiety would help give you some escapism during the night as a relief. While you still felt a bit off-put by one of your emotions continuously showing up in your dreams, and of all of them it’s the Anxiety one, her reasoning did give you some respite. She made sure she didn’t slip that she just really wanted to spend time with you too, though.

It took you a little while to warm up to both the idea and her again, but after some time, you started to enjoy your little adventures with Anxiety. She was funny, sweet, kind, and had all the same interests as you did. She became your best friend, but in Anxiety’s eyes, you two were already in a relationship.

Every time you awoke, she did a little happy dance at the progress being made. Heck, she even had a checklist full of things to make certain you’d fall for her in return. Anxiety was not going to allow herself to destroy your bond together with her. At this point, her whole life really is about you. She loves you so, so much and every day she gets more exhilarated at getting closer to the stage where she’d ask you the question.

Months pass on, and it’s now around the end of the year. She decided to give you a little celebration, convincing the workers below to set off fireworks outside. HQ was decked out in festive decorations, illuminated by the glow of the bright flashes of light outside. When Anxiety sees your gorgeous face lit up by the colors set off from the other side of the window, her heart thumps louder in her chest, almost to an audible level. Her breath is caught in her mouth, but shaking off the stunned reaction she has towards you, Anxiety figures now would be a good time as ever to ask you: do you love her as much as she loves you?

✨🧡 ll Yes:

“Well…ah, it’s a bit weird to be dating one of my emotions…”

Anxiety’s wide-eyed face immediately turns down on itself, pupils shrinking and a frown making itself very well-known on her face. No, no! You can’t-!

“...Ah, why not? Sure!”

I hope you’re stanced up because if not, you will be thrown to the ground in another one of Anxiety’s tight hugs. She keeps on letting out happy squeals, unable to contain her absolute joy at your response. You laugh at how cute she was, returning her hug. She smiles even wider at that.

“I love you, I love you, I love youIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOU!” Anxiety repeated, her tongue twisting near the end making her almost unable to be understood until her final declaration of love. You giggle, and at this her green eyes open up and twinkle at you, a smile spread wider across her face than ever before.

“I love you too.”

While Anxiety never truly does let go of her obsessive tendencies towards you, they do somewhat lax now that she knows you love her back. Her mind sometimes wanders to the other emotions locked up in the Vault, and now on her off-days, she actually goes and visits them, talking to them through the cell. Of course, they’re pissed off at her, but she just can’t stop gushing about you and how much you love her back. Anxiety is too lovestruck to notice the gagging coming from Ennui, Anger, and Disgust inside whenever she goes on another long spiel about how your kisses feel or the flower you gave to her the other day.

Speaking of gifts, while she loves to talk to you about your interests and hyperfixations, Anxiety’s personal go-to love language will always be presents. Whatever you want, she’ll make it happen in the dream.

If you had a bad day too, Anxiety will do double-duty to make sure you wake up feeling ten times better than what you felt like going to bed!

As you grow older, Anxiety reflects back on how when you pass away, so will all of them. But while she still frets over it, there’s also the reassuring thought that she may be a human in the next life alongside you. So, instead of being inside your head, Anxiety will get to live out in the real-world right beside you. But as long as she’s with you, any future is great to her.

Overall, Anxiety feels like a weight that’s been on her since her very inception has finally been lifted. She’s much more relaxed and allows you to go out more as long as you don’t cheat on her. Thankfully, you never do, and she couldn’t be more than grateful.

Life was finally good for her, and she couldn’t be any happier.

💔 ll No:

You smiled awkwardly down at her, the tension in the room suddenly becoming more palpable to you. “I-uh, what?”

Anxiety’s grin falters. “Do you love me?” She repeats.

Your smile becomes a frown, and so does her’s. “I’m…I’m going to be honest with you, Anxiety. I love being your friend. But if you’re asking if we should date, I just can’t accept.”

Immediately, Anxiety shouts out. “WHY NOT?!” Panic is written all over her face, chest heaving in a faulty attempt to calm herself down.

You flinch back from her, suddenly unsure of what to do. “It’s just-I-I don’t know!” You replied back. “You’re literally an emotion! Something my mind made up! You’re not real!”

Those last words hurt her worse than any knife ever could. “You-you don’t mean that! I know you don’t! We’re supposed to be happy together! I did everything for you! So please just love me! LOVE ME!”

You took a few steps back, unknowingly bumping into an ajar closet. When you turn around, you gape in abject horror.

Thousands of drawings and art crafts of you, reciprocating Anxiety’s adoration, filled your sight. You turned down to a sheet of paper that innocently slid to your feet.

‘I got rid of the others. I hated to, but they’d never be able to understand how I felt towards them. They were in the way. But now, we can be together forever! I can’t wait!’

Oh toaster strudels.

You whip back around to face Anxiety, fear evident on your face. She looked just as stunned as you, her green eyes prickling with tears as she shook her head. “I-I promise,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t think it would ever go this far. But I need you to love me back. I NEED YOU!”

Fast on your feet, you’re barely able to dodge Anxiety’s attempt at grabbing you, and without thinking, you go towards the window. You need to get out of this dream, A.S.A.P.

“NO! DON’T-” Too late.

As you fell, wind sweeping through your hair, you turned to gaze up at the window. The last you saw before you jolted awake was the speck of orange looking out the broken window, crying her eyes out and sobbing to herself.

Afterwards, you refused to fall asleep. You chugged energy drinks, made sure to take your anxiety medication every day, watched horror movies so you felt too scared, turned up your home’s lights, anything to make sure you wouldn’t go to sleep and see Anxiety again.

But in turn, you felt your own anxiety levels rising. You felt an irrational, unstoppable fear of attending to your job, jumped at every little creak in the house, the unexplainable drowsiness present in your fits of worry, you all knew it was the work of Anxiety to get you to go back to sleep and see her again.

Of course, you couldn’t stay awake forever. It happened one day when you did your best to explain to your boss why you haven’t been going to work. Your voice was slurred, giving away your sleepiness, and your boss on the other end worryingly called out to you as both your phone and your body landed on the cold floor.

🧡💔 ll Nice to See You Again:

You woke up on top of a comfortable bed, and while you were coming to, you noticed the rope wrapped tightly around you. A bandana had been wrapped around your mouth as well to make sure you didn’t make a peep.

At the foot of the bed, was Anxiety. She looked much more worn-out, eyebags present and hair an absolute mess. She was fiddling around with a clipboard at first, but as her eyes glanced at you for a moment, she realized you finally came to.

“Oh! Hey, didn’t notice you were awake there!” She ignored the cries of protests coming from you. She laughed, her loss of sanity being noted in her giggles. “I guess you always were a heavy sleeper!” You didn’t laugh back.

She got closer to you, any talk you had with her about personal space thrown out the (now repaired) window. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept either. “I mean, it makes sense. You were awake for a really long time out there. In fact, you didn’t sleep for four whole days! Can I ask why that is?”

You glared at her. She huffed. “Ooooh, I think I know what it is,” she muttered. “I bet you didn’t want to get nightmares. Well, it’s okay now! Your girlfriend here, Anxiety, will make sure you have only good dreams from now on!” She puffed out her chest. You didn’t know if she was mocking you or genuinely deluded into thinking that was the truth.

You uncomfortably shifted as she crawled to the other side of you, wrapping her arms around your bound form despite your discomfort. “I’ve been so, so alone these past few days. I missed you, I missed you so bad. But now, you’re back! With me! I can’t wait for what adventures you have planned for the both of us.” That final note in her voice, that seemed to almost hiss out, gave you a sense of fear. You were too scared to fight back or even move, just allowing Anxiety to make up four day’s worth of no hugs.

“I promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. No other person knows you like I do. Nobody.”

Should I even have to explain to you that your two’s relationship is toxic now? Because it is. Like, hazardous waste-type of toxic.

In her deluded mind, Anxiety fully believes that you just ran through that window because you were scared of the commitment, and that you just responded no to her love request because of the same reason. In time, she thinks she’ll be able to win you over, and considering how you can’t really get rid of her, you’re unfortunately stuck with her.

When you eventually did wake up, you found yourself in a hospital room, alone. At least, physically. You couldn’t help the onslaught of hopeless tears that trickled down your face.

In the background, Anxiety was fiddling with your feelings, not thinking about your own desires on the matter. She smiled, chuckling, when she found what she was looking for, hidden deep within the recesses of your hypothalamus: the control center that managed who you found romantically appealing.

She was smart about it, though. Despite wanting to just crank it all the way up, she gradually made it so you found her more alluring without you even noticing the changes.

You were immensely terrified of her at first, discouraging her, but as she set your romantic feelings towards her higher slowly, Anxiety noticed the change you had in your demeanor.

Eventually, she was comfortable in allowing you to finally be untied (she had undone the makeshift gag a little bit ago), and while she was a bit disappointed at still seeing you be uncomfortable around her and shying away, that just made Anxiety more determined to get you to fall in love with her.

Was doing all of this morally wrong and cementing her fully into the deep-end? Yes.

But did she truly care about that currently? No.

She can think about the moral dilemma years down the line when you two are fully reciprocating love towards one another.

Anxiety accidentally let out an excited snort at you finally hugging her once again. She clasped her hands over her mouth, blushing right after. You found it to be…weirdly cute.

Eventually, your romantic feelings were almost at 100%. As time passed on, your life became better as you started to reflect that same strange comforting feeling Anxiety felt towards you.

You felt inclined to question why you were getting these emotions for your mental stalker, but any attempt to further examine this is usually quashed thanks to Anxiety’s interference. Soon, you don’t even get these questions anymore. They just feel like they come naturally to you.

Those same reactions Anxiety had towards you were now being felt by you, except obviously with her. Shy gazes at her cute orange hair before looking away when she goes to return your look, fully enraptured in her kind voice and nodding along to whatever she said, blushing whenever you were complimented by her, the list goes on.

The fact that she did awful things almost seems to become a distant memory to you, until much later on, it becomes completely forgotten in your eyes.

Eventually, it came to a head. One night, when the two of you were alone, you tapped her on the shoulder. You smiled at her, blush clearly evident on your face as you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

“H-hey, uh, Anxiety? Can I ask you something kinda’...important? Promise not to freak out or anything, okay?”

Anxiety nodded violently. “Yeah!! Yeah, tell me anything!” She leaned in closer, eyes trained fully on you. Her hands were rolled up into fists, vibrating slightly in barely-disguised eagerness. After a bit of stammering, you finally were able to lock eyes with each other.

“Do you, um…want to go out with me-?”

“YES!! YES!!!” Anxiety jumped to respond, flapping her hands happily as she raced around the room. You laughed, before abruptly getting stopped by the kiss that Anxiety had placed on your lips. Both of you looked stunned for only a brief moment, before you happily returned it.

If emotions had brains, Anxiety was sure it short-circuited at that moment.

Finally relinquishing, you stepped back, only to lunge forward when you caught her about to fall right on her back.

“Woah, Anxiety, are you okay?” You chuckled. Anxiety looked up at you with a tired, but completely and utterly smitten look on her face.

“Never been better.”

Things were definitely better now. Much like if you said yes to her original proposal, she gives you more freedom in exchange for always being beside her when you’re dreaming. You happily accept, none the wiser of the manipulation Anxiety pulled to get to this moment.

She sometimes reflects on her actions, knowing full-well what she did was completely, morally-reprehensible. But at a certain point, Anxiety just sighs and puts it into the very back of her brain.

Yes, what she did was absolutely wrong. But, when she looks at you, finally head-over-heels for her as much as she is with you, Anxiety really can’t help but smile.

“I really am sorry, guys, but it was all worth it in the end.”

#ask to tag #long post #yandere tw #yandere disney #yandere pixar #yandere #yandere headcanons #anxiety inside out #anxiety io2 #inside out #inside out 2 #inside out headcanons #dark tw #manipulation tw

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aydien677 · 3 months ago

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My own little Psychological Headcannons on the brothers.

A/N: oh my God this is a lot.

Warnings: lots of mental health stuff, like, lots

Ok so I believe Lucifer has ptsd of the complex variety, maybe Bipolar, anxious and severely depressed as well with possible BPD and definitely autism and he will definitely have oldest child syndrome. His brothers don’t appreciate him as much as they should and he seems to rarely ever get hugs since even though he is doing what he thinks is best for them they do their best to ruin his day. He feels anxious he isn’t doing good enough for his brothers and that they’ll get hurt because of this. He’ll blame yourself for everything bad that happens to them. He has a lot of pressure to do everything for your siblings and his needs were put last as his brothers don’t appreciate you as much as they should and even now he’ll put himself last and will overwork himself for his brothers often not eating or sleeping like he should. Whenever his brothers are threatened he will immediately go into fight or flight always choosing fight as if it’s been drilled into him that he doesn’t matter and his brothers come first. That’s why he’ll act tough because he feels guilty for being vulnerable because that makes him feel unfit to protect his brothers and they’ll think he is weak and leave him for showing some emotional vulnerability making him unable to protect them when they leave. He has also turned to borderline alcoholism to help relieve some of his stress and anxiety because he never actually had the time to get over his trauma and learn to take care of himself. Yet most importantly it seems that his brothers are his only will to live.

Then Mammons hyperactive Adhd is mostly what’s fucking him over because he can start something but will quickly loose interest causing it to fail because he can’t follow through and adhd can make you more likely to get addicted to things in Mams case it’s the casino but being the Avatar of Greed also plays a part because he feels like he’s missing something so he’s likely using possessions to try and fix it when he’s really just missing affection because he is used as an emotional punching bag by your brothers and this also caused him to have BPD, major depressive disorder and general anxiety disorder. Since He is mostly used as an emotional punching bag which is not good for him and he hardly ever properly retaliates. This is because he wants to believe you all care but he has a hard time believing it making him even more depressed and anxious especially after Michael pretty much abandoned and bad mouthed him . Despite his grades He is very smart and it’s mostly just his adhd. This can mostly be solved by more positive reinforcement and accommodations for his adhd.

Levi has autism and anxiety and as the Avatar of Envy he is likely jealous of who he used to be but can’t explain that part so he’s just miserable and depressed but at least he’s more open about how he feels especially his anxiety. He really just needs someone to listen to him. Did I mention autism?

Satan is a walking autistic existential identity crisis and as the Avatar of Wrath he is mostly angry because he is confused about why he exists and it’s also why his main comfort is books because they explain things and he’s using escapism as a coping mechanism. He needs reassurance that he is his own person and not a carbon copy of someone else. It’s seen over and over that Satan loves books and that he believes Knowledge is power but he doesn’t have the knowledge of how he came into existence except for the fact he split from Lucifer.

Asmo is the healthiest with his self care but he has histrionic personality disorder and as the Avatar of Lust he is likely trying to Fuck away his feelings so to speak so he doesn’t have to think about it but then again his self care is also his greatest weakness since he believes that if people cannot see how pretty he is what else do they have to go by. His face is his mask and he thinks his mask is all people will ever see. They can't see what's underneath because he thinks that it does not matter.

Beel is mostly just depressed and his guilt likely forms as a pit in his stomach which could also be mistaken for hunger so as the Avatar of gluttony he tries to eat to get rid of that pit of guilt. Belphie is depressed and has inattentive Adhd and if you’re too busy sleeping you don’t have to acknowledge reality of loosing Lilith and his coping mechanism is pretty fitting for the avatar of sloth.

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me brothers #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me headcanons #obey me analysis #obey me angst #Oh my lawd this was a lot #obey me mc #It doesn’t help that I have the Pokémon theme running through my head #Shit Leviathan’s was short

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xalygatorx · 10 months ago

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Unbound | Chapter 16, "Full of Surprises"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party sets up camp with the myconids, resting before doing the Sovereign a favor. They meet the other colony guests—a hobgoblin, a mind flayer, and a sanguine alchemist. Astarion is put in a position to stand up for himself (and Áine has an opportunity to stand up for him as well). Astarion is honest with Áine about his complicated relationship with intimacy and about what spurred their affair in the first place. The pair decide where they’ll go from there.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Descriptions (in-depth but not graphic) of Astarion’s sexual trauma; early Araj appearance (we will still probably run into her at Moonrise later); fluff; comfort/hurt; angst; trauma; flashbacks and descriptions of physical anxiety responses and feeling triggered; blood & blood-drinking; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8k

Listening to: Quiet the Monsters - Victoria Carbol

A/N: Just want to quickly say thank you so much for all the comments, feedback, and kind words on Unbound, it helps the headspace a lot and it means the world to my sappy little heart. x

Áine’s heavy rucksack hitting the ground caused a blossom of tiny, glimmering bioluminescent spores to rise in a small puff from the base. The cloud also subsequently caused Áine to sneeze. The bard frowned at the discovery, shaking her head as she rifled through her bag for a health potion, thinking how she’d never live it down if she was half-drow and somehow allergic to the fungal flora of the Underdark.

“That was precious,” Shadowheart remarked on the sound of Áine’s half-muffled sneeze, earning a glower from the bard. “Have what you need to heal up?”

“I should,” Áine said, her fingertips skimming the side of one of the glass bottles she was searching for. She plucked it out and checked it before uncapping it to take a long sip. “I just got knocked around really. I’ll be glad when that burrowing monstrosity stops retreating every time we almost kill it.”

“Indeed,” she sighed, rubbing her hand along her arm as a turquoise glow emitted from her palm. “Between that and the minotaurs, a clan of agreeable mushroom folk was a welcome find. Although I could do without the strange voices that keep projecting into my head.”

“Other than the usual ones, you mean?” Áine teased her, earning an eyeroll.

The bard glanced across the little foothills they’d stumbled upon, the different levels connected by toadstools as big as trees. It felt like a sort of haven, perhaps because it was the first time since they’d left the Selûnite outpost that she’d felt like she could relax a little. Unless that godsdamned bulette came back, but the myconids seemed to maintain this area firmly for themselves and she hadn’t seen any evidence of the thing disrupting the dirt through their settlement.

“Tell me you didn’t pick up another ‘hero’s quest’ side job from that creature on the roll,” Astarion grumbled as he walked to join them, already exasperated because he knew Áine and of course she’d said they’d help someone else. Yet another useless venture for gnomes this time of all things.

“Astarion,” she murmured, her tone scolding. “It won’t kill us to help her.”

“Well, it might,” Shadowheart posited with a shrug.

“See?” Astarion griped, gesturing toward the cleric. “Someone with sense. Imagine.”

Áine glared between them, her lover and her best friend teamed up against her. Unbelievable. “We’re going that way anyway to cull those slavers for Spaw,” she pointed out. “And it’s not like I take these things on for free. We need the extra coin.” She sighed as she set her bag back down, placing the empty potion bottle next to it. “Especially after I suck it up and stock us back up on supplies.”

“And where do you plan to do that?” Shadowheart asked, glancing around and finding the area just as shopless as she’d first assumed.

Áine nodded toward the side of the settlement where a studious hobgoblin worked over a table. “I’d like to see if he has anything to trade. There was a drow over there too who might be worth speaking to. She looked like she had some alchemy equipment,” she said as she got her coin pouch from her hip and took a tally, mentally preparing herself for inflated Underdark prices.

“You’re going back over there? Where the mind flayer is?” Shadowheart demanded.

“Sure,” Áine said, shrugging when she met Shadowheart’s skeptical eyes. “They seemed perfectly fine for being a mind flayer. And vegetarian.”

“Ugh, fine,” Shadowheart sighed. “Just be careful. And here.” She took a handful of coins from her purse and put them in Áine’s palm. “To help with the potion restock.”

“Thanks,” Áine said, looking at a pouting Astarion. “You coming?”

The vampire made a noncommittal grunt in his throat, which she just took to be a yes.

“Can I come?” Karlach piped up nearby. “I’m bored to tears.”

Áine laughed as she led the way from their campsite, ending up with an entourage of Karlach, Wyll, Astarion, and Scratch. She dropped her hand to her side and stroked Scratch’s ears as he trotted alongside her, just pleased to be among his friends. As she drew close, she said, “Erm, Blurg? You wouldn’t happen to have anything you’d want to trade, would you?”

“A curious mind would never refuse to peruse,” the hobgoblin said amenibly. “What are you looking for? And what can you offer?”

“Some basic supplies and medicinal tonics are what we seek,” Áine explained. “To trade we have a bit of gold, some odds and ends, and at least one charming smile.” When he looked at her, she jokingly gestured to Wyll and said, “That’s his specialty.”

Wyll smirked, laughing when Astarion gave a disgruntled huff in Áine’s direction that she ignored.

“In the way of supplies, I do tend to overstock for myself so I would be happy to trade something of that ilk with you,” he suggested. “Let me have a look at the ‘odds and ends’ and if nothing strikes, gold always sits well.”

Áine got out the items she’d collected for bartering purposes to let him have a look. As he stooped over the array to have a gander, she heard Karlach hiss to get her attention. “‘Ey, soldier,” she said, nodding just down the wall toward the female drow that Áine had seen earlier. “She looks more like the potiony type. Might be worth asking her?”

Wyll pulled a face when he followed Karlach’s gesture. “Hmph, an underelf?” he mumbled.

“Gods’ sakes, Wyll,” Karlach chastised him, making Áine smirk to herself. “You do recall that Áine’s half-drow, right?”

Wyll blushed with the appropriate amount of chagrin. “Right. Sorry, Áine,” he mumbled.

“That’ll be Araj over there,” Blurg said absently as he picked out a couple of things from Áine’s stash and gathered some supply packs to offer for compensation. When Áine agreed to the trade, he pocketed the trinkets and said to Karlach and Wyll, “She would be a good ask for your tonics and elixirs, but she does follow more of a…specialty than most alchemists I’ve met.”

“Hopefully she’s not opposed to half-bloods,” Áine sighed, already readying herself to be condescended to. “Thank you, this helps us a lot.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And good luck with your tadpole dilemma.”

It was refreshing to not be balked at for having a parasite in her brain, which wasn’t a thought or feeling Áine had ever thought she’d experience before her abduction. Karlach and Wyll led the way to Araj’s setup while Astarion fell in step with Áine, lowering his voice to chat with her as he was curious as to what she’d decided to part with. They paused their conversation with murmured “later”s and a sneaky brush of hands when they caught up with Wyll and Karlach, who had just gotten the drow’s attention.

“Ah,” she huffed, looking at Áine with undisguised speculation. “Half-human, I assume?”

Here it comes. “Indeed, but I prefer to go by Áine,” she said dryly. Astarion and Karlach snickered, both trying to hide it at least until they got whatever potions they could get from her. Their efforts only grew more difficult when they made eye contact just to see the other in equal shambles.

“How lovely,” the drow alchemist purred and Áine wasn’t sure if Araj referred to her name or her genetics. Either way, it was preferable to another person telling her that she’d muddied her lineage. “Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul if what I caught of your conversation next door is accurate.” Her garnet eyes slid toward Astarion. “And your pale companion, of course.”

A blood alchemist? she wondered, both intrigued and alarmed. She’d never heard of such a thing. And, it seemed, an Absolutist nut at that. “You know of the Absolute?” Áine asked, playing into the narrative seamlessly. She tried to ignore how Araj took in Astarion like he was on offer with the rest of their wares.

“Who does not, this side of Faerûn?” Araj mused. Based on everyone they’d met, Áine couldn’t disagree with her. “I’d like to offer you my services if you’re willing?”

Áine’s expression turned bewildered. “If I’m willing? What exactly are you offering?”

“As I said, I trade in blood and the potions that can be wrung from it,” the drow said. “I’m more than happy to make one for you…if you’ll honor me with your blood. With one drop, I can brew a potent potion just for you. The rest, I keep for myself.”

“What sort of potion?” Áine asked, considering it more now that she knew the alchemist was only after a drop. Although she did wonder what she’d want with the “rest” she mentioned keeping. Research probably.

“No idea!” Araj exclaimed, enthused by not knowing. “But it will be unique to you—your blood essence and the Absolute’s blessing intertwined. We can learn exactly what that means together.”

“Hmm…,” Áine hummed, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Alright.”

“Just a little prick and it’s all over,” Araj assured her as she reached for Áine’s hand. She created a tiny incision in her fingertip, methodically milking the wound over a vial.

Áine shifted uncomfortably, flicking her eyes up toward the ceiling to ignore the procedure. It was wild how blood didn’t bother her whatsoever when it was on a battlefield but as soon as it was something as sterile as a medical process, her stomach turned. She’d even gotten used to Astarion drinking her blood somewhat, but just barely. Half the time she had to just pretend he was necking her a little too roughly. She supposed that wasn’t not the case.

Araj took the vial and turned to her tools and glass implements, the gurgling of boiling, steaming liquids amplifying as she started to create a brew. Subconsciously, Áine popped her bleeding finger into her mouth to hasten the clotting, only glancing toward Astarion after she did. He was giving her a withering look that made her smirk around her fingertip.

“Later,” she mouthed after freeing her digit and Astarion’s annoyed glance faded, satisfied with the compromise.

“And there we are!” Araj proclaimed as she turned around and offered a corked flask to Áine. “All of your best traits in a bottle. Use it well.”

“Thank you,” Áine said, smirking as she added, “I think. Maybe we should wait to see what it does before I thank you.” Araj chuckled and Áine asked further, “Would you have anything pre-brewed that you’d want to sell? I know it’s not your focus, but we’re hoping to restock on some basic stuff for the road.”

She gestured toward a cluster of bottles set aside from her workspace. “I have a hodgepodge of elixirs and potions just over there if you’d like a look,” she suggested. “Some extra stock from my journey. Some of that gold back would be a positive.”

“I’ll take a look, thanks,” Áine said, pocketing her pricked hand so she didn’t touch anything that might infect the little cut before she could clean it back at camp. She stepped over to the cluster of potions, lifting a bottle here and there to check for labels. With her back turned, Araj’s attention drifted again.

Astarion noticed Araj’s hungry stare and his eyes narrowed, glancing fleetingly toward his companions. Áine and Karlach were hunched over the bottles and Wyll stood nearby, staring down the path while lost in thought. Astarion cleared his throat and continued to avoid Araj, but he could feel her eyes on him, rooting him to the spot and peeling him apart. He hated it.

Áine, not seeing a wink of what was happening just over her shoulder, was a little startled when Araj spoke again. And then deeply unsettled by what she said. “Perhaps there is one more thing we could discuss…,” Araj mused, her eyes still hooked into Astarion. “Your friend.”

Astarion’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. Áine, Karlach, and Wyll all looked over from what they were doing but Áine was the one to speak. “Um… Excuse me?” she asked.

“He’s a vampire, no? One of their spawn at least.” She spat the word like a curse.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion swiftly said, his mask fully up. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” Araj countered. All their eyes had gone a little round at that and Áine’s expression remained bewildered as Araj turned to her. “He belongs to you, I assume?”

Astarion faltered, hiding it well. Suddenly he was little more than a slave again and that old, familiar dread started to creep in. Meanwhile, something in Áine began to unhinge.

Her eyes narrowed, hoping she was just being dense and misunderstanding the woman’s question. “...He belongs to himself. If you have questions for him, you can direct those questions to him,” she said in a hard voice. Astarion’s eyes darted toward Áine’s bristling tone, vulnerability flashing through his eyes faster than light.

Araj gave an amused hum. “I’m sure he really believes that… How utterly adorable.” She slanted her gaze back to Astarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“A-Astarion, but hold on!” Astarion stammered, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Good,” she purred back to him for, as she saw it, following her order. “Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamed of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice creeping a note higher in disbelief, “you want to be bitten?”

Áine was watching the exchange with discomfort. Araj had struck her in odd ways when they’d first spoken, but now she felt genuinely disturbed. And oddly a faint twinge of jealousy. Maybe because most of the times Astarion had bitten her at this point had been mingled with something more intimate or maybe because it would be the first time outside of a quick chomp during a fight that he elected to drink from someone that wasn’t her.

It was an odd train of thought, so she abandoned it and continued to listen in while she placed a couple of bottles she’d set aside to buy back into the original cluster. She’d scrape up ingredients and make her own healing draughts if Araj was their only option for the stuff.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away?” Araj mused, her tone painting the experience as a sensual one. She’d heard of a vampire’s bite being fetishized but it was something completely different to see it in real time. “To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes. I want it.”

Infuriating Áine further, Araj turned to speak to her again as if she were Astarion’s keeper. “I’ll even compensate you. Whatever vials you require from that pile plus a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it.” She slid her gaze back to Astarion, who stiffened beneath it. “It’s not for sale. But it’s yours…if you bite me.”

Áine wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do, but it did surprise her a little when Astarion said without a second thought, “I will have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” Araj laughed, incredulous. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” Astarion gritted, something disgustingly close to fear rising in his chest. The compulsion to obey his master. The demand to use his body, his entire being, in bent form to his sire’s will. This wasn’t the same, but he felt its echoes.

Offended and blustering, Araj directed her next words at Áine. “Ugh, can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?!”

Astarion dared a look at his lover. Áine’s eyes were colder than he’d ever seen them as she inhaled a deep, steadying breath and leaned away from the table to face Araj. Her anger was barely contained. “He said no,” she growled.

“How very disappointing,” Araj murmured. “Right. Well, then I suppose gold will—”

“Keep your wares,” the bard muttered, leading Wyll and Karlach back toward Astarion and Araj. His tension eased a bit once they were back in his proximity. “And keep to yourself. Come near him again unbidden and that dealing, you will have with me.”

Araj tsked at Áine. “I’d always heard half-breeds were feral,” she spat.

A dangerous smile crossed Áine’s mouth, her eyes boring into Araj’s. “Would you like to find out for yourself?” she asked, positively saccharine.

Araj’s face flickered with a twinge of fear and she huffed, looking toward Karlach and Wyll. Finding no sympathy on their faces, she muttered a few choice words in elvish and turned away from them, back to her work. Áine had half a mind to teach her a lesson, but she forced her burning gaze away from the alchemist’s back and whistled for Scratch before leading them all back to camp.

Astarion was more than relieved to be away from the drow, his jaw finally unclenching when they were a few paces back down the path.

“The audacity!” Wyll was exclaiming, absolutely floored by what had just happened. “What a horrible woman!”

“Proud of you for sticking up for yourself, Fangs,” Karlach said, equal parts agitated and fired up in her protectiveness. “That was fucked.”

Astarion found himself relaxing further at Wyll and Karlach’s praise and validation, his gaze lingering on Áine walking just ahead of them with Scratch. Her shoulders were still rigid, proverbial hackles still up, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

He would’ve done it if she’d asked, he realized, even with his autonomy returned. Even if he’d been left to Araj wearing him down, he may have buckled despite how positively fetid the drow’s blood had smelled. He’d had so little opportunity to make his own choices unpunished in this life that the word “no” had felt foreign on his tongue every time he’d said it back there.

Even at the offer of a potion that would’ve arguably been quite useful for their cause, she hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t questioned why he didn’t want to bite the drow. Hadn’t expressed an ounce of disappointment or inconvenience when he’d opted out. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so deadly angry either.

They arrived back to camp and Scratch immediately bounded off to find the owlbear cub, who was sitting next to Halsin with a dopey expression on its young face. They’d become fast friends and it was adorable. It did little to calm Áine’s ire at the moment, but only because the flames were burning so high.

How dare she?! Suddenly she could empathize with Astarion’s impulse to go back out to the woods and kill Gale after originally deciding not to—not because of anything to do with Gale but because it was taking everything in her not to go back to that table and reduce Araj to resemble her own nasty spread of potion ingredients. Half-breed comments be damned, she wanted to kill her for placing Astarion in even a semblance of one of the situations he’d finally escaped.

Muttering under her breath, Áine slammed the supply packs down next to her rucksack. Methodically, she started to paw through the pack to put back the bits that Blurg had passed on and do some updated inventory. It was necessary and it gave her something to do. The stuff she’d gotten from Blurg seemed good and that would get them through their trip to track down the duergar at least. If they rationed a little more harshly, then—

“Ahem.”

The meek intrusion jarred her from her scattered thoughts, and she looked up over her shoulder, finding Astarion lingering behind her and fiddling with his fingers. “Do you have a moment?” he asked, obviously anxious.

“For you?” she suggested, getting to her feet and brushing off her pants as she turned to face him. “Any moment you’d like.” Had she ever seen him so timid?

“I, uh…,” he began, faltering. His voice was soft and emotionally raw. It did funny things to her heart. “I want to thank you.”

Áine’s brow creased. “For what?”

“For what you said,” Astarion replied, “whilst I was in front of that vile drow. All my years serving under my master, what I felt about what I was doing…it never mattered.” He sighed. “You could’ve asked me to do the same just then. To throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. I likely would have done it, you know.”

Áine frowned. “Astarion, I would never.”

“I know,” he reassured her, his voice gentle. He was silent for a long moment, seeming quietly overwhelmed. “...And I’m grateful.” He made an impatient sound as he waved his sentimentality away and, gesturing, said, “It would’ve been so easy just to bite her! To just go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.”

Áine’s brow crumpled. “Isn’t that what you’ve been hoping to leave behind?” she ventured to ask. “What could possess you to repeat the motions now?”

“Repeat the motions,” he repeated in his head. You’ve no idea how close you are to the truth. The thought made him sullen and panicked for their eventual conversation about just that.

“Habit perhaps,” Astarion said on a sigh. “It was all I knew for a very, very long time. Even still, amongst, well friends I suppose, it’s difficult not to expect a trap in every question. A punishment for every wrong answer. The illusion of choice. In any case, that made me realize that despite being ‘free,’ I’ve still been living as if I’m not in many ways.”

Áine listened, nodding slowly as she processed his answer. She remembered her first couple of years out in the world on her own.

Everything had felt like a trap. She’d been utterly paranoid out of her mind. Every too-friendly face she met, she’d met with suspicion. She’d run any time someone got too close to her and veered firmly away from anywhere that could’ve been described as “bustling,” but she’d been terrified when she was completely alone too, a sickly member of a herd to be picked off.

It had been the worst those first few months, her old strength and left shoulder shattered along with her sense of identity. He was in one piece physically, but he was only about a month or so out from his escape. She couldn’t imagine he’d felt safe a moment since. And in Áine’s experience, she wasn’t so sure he’d truly feel safe for quite some time. Ten years later, she still didn’t.

Astarion watched the understanding soften her features and could only hope that it would carry over into harder topics. Knowing he’d back down if he didn’t, he asked, “May we talk later tonight?”

“Later?” Áine asked, tilting her head. “We can—”

“Later would be best, if that’s alright, my dear,” he suggested, knowing she would offer to have their conversation now. He could see in her face that his request worried her.

Slowly, Áine nodded. “Sure. I guess…just come get me when you’re ready.”

“I will,” he promised and it held none of his usual sensual spin he liked to put on everything. He nodded toward her pricked finger. “How is your hand?”

Áine smirked as it all came around to blood again, extending her hand and raising her fingertip for his inspection. “It’s fine, but I do wish I hadn’t given her a damn thing now,” she said, the edge back in her tone.

Astarion’s eyes flickered down to the small clotted cut on her finger, leaning in closer to examine it and taking her hand in his to bring it to his eye level. Áine smirked, expecting him to reopen it and take a sip—she’d promised after all—possibly with the addition of making it an innuendo.

However, when she braced for the sting of his fangs as he dropped his mouth to her cut, she was surprised when all he did was kiss it. She saw his craving in the way his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared at the scent, but he didn’t try to partake.

“Perhaps get a salve on it, darling,” he suggested while Áine still watched him, bemused.

“Sure,” she said, watching him step away with a mix of confusion and affection. He was acting strangely, but she didn’t quite feel as if it were the sort of “strange” he’d be acting if he intended to end things later.

But, if not that, then what?

Reassuring herself that Astarion’s wasn’t the behavior of someone who was soon to end a relationship sufficed to steady Áine’s nerves through the evening. There was no “breaking up” when they’d never been exclusive, she kept reminding herself. Even if she’d felt exclusive with him the moment she’d realized there was a mutual interest between them, nothing had been spoken into existence. She’d just leaned in too far and fallen.

She knew how she was with these sorts of things—at the inception of a crush, she was all-in. That wasn’t the norm.

Áine did her damnedest to not let her anxieties creep out in the open, too. As much as this was eating away at her, something had eaten away at Astarion enough for him to ask her specifically for a time that they could speak. There was something on his mind, too.

Knowing she’d just wear a rut on her tent floor, Áine took up her usual spot near the fire. She was without her lute, but the myconids’ melodies interwoven in the spores around them felt like more than enough of a nightly treat for the ears. She laid back on the dirt, her fingertips tracing faint patterns in the deep earthen soil and her eyes cast toward the black ceiling overhead serving for a sky. She marinated in her thoughts and the interesting flow of the unearthly music in her mind until Astarion’s beautiful face peering over her blessedly cut her overthinking short.

She smirked up at him and shifted one of her hands behind her head. “Huh. A star in the Underdark,” she mused aloud, making him smile and roll his eyes. “How poetic.”

“Aren’t the romantic advances and suave pickup lines meant to be my job?” Astarion asked as he sat down next to her, his gaze following hers to skim the towering caverns.

“Mm, we can take shifts,” Áine said, nonplussed by his grumbling. Subconsciously, she moved one of her hands over to gently rub his back, but she stopped herself shy of his shirt when she remembered his scars. When she looked at his face, she saw he was already observing her dilemma. “Sorry. Instinct,” she said as she started to tuck her hand back under her head.

“What instinct exactly?” he asked.

“Uh,” Áine mumbled, suddenly flustered at having to put her silly little notions into words. “I was going to rub your back. Didn’t fully think it through. Unless…that sounds interesting?”

Astarion was amused by something, whether it was her tone or her wording. He thought over her offer before giving her a measured nod. “You may try if you’d like.”

With care, Áine laid her hand against his clothed back, feeling the faint shudder that rippled through him. “As ever, just say the word,” she murmured, her voice and her touch tender as she began stroking his back, beginning with small predictable circles. Her heart broke as she felt the raised lines of his scars through the fabric of his shirt. “True vampire” rules be damned, she’d bleed Cazador on his own palace steps if they ever crossed paths.

He interrupted her ferocious thoughts when he said, “I think the others have all taken to bed… I mentioned it earlier, but I think we need to talk.”

Áine’s hand stilled against the small of his back, almost feeling stupid for having it resting there now. Her throat suddenly dry, she asked, “Is here okay or did you want to go somewhere else?”

Astarion shook his head. He wanted to keep this on neutral ground rather than in one of their tents. Just in case. “No, here is fine.”

Áine’s brow creased, her eyes speculative. “...Are you alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Astarion quickly said. “I just… Well, I feel awful.”

Áine’s chest felt like it was constricting. Here it comes, she chided herself. You got in too deep, as always. Well, actually opposite of always. Regardless, just as much of a fuck-up. She drew a breath and sat up, pulling her knees toward her chest and looking at his profile. “I’m listening?”

Astarion seemed almost scared to look at her, which she couldn’t comprehend. But he still made himself do so, sitting on his knees and turning his entire body toward her. When he met her eyes, she read the precise fear there that she’d anticipated, but she couldn’t imagine the why of it. His attention faltered for a split-second as he studied her face and seemingly without thinking, he mumbled a dumbfounded, “Gods, you’re beautiful…”

He cleared his throat too harshly and coughed against his fist, creating even more confusion in Áine than before along with a bright blush in her cheeks. “Mmf, no, that’s—it’s true but that’s not what I mean to discuss,” he scrambled. He was so uncharacteristically scattered that she may have laughed were she not frightened of whatever he was about to drop on her.

Astarion found the wherewithal to continue after searching himself for that singular selfless bone left in his body. He couldn’t bear to lose her, but it wasn’t solely his choice in the matter. Not anymore.

“Right. Look. I had…a plan. A nice simple plan. And that plan…well, it’s been my most solid strategy for the past 200 years. Never played for myself, but for Cazador.” As ever, he sneered the name like a curse. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to darken further as he spoke. “We’ve spoken of the torture, of the compulsion, of the rancid vermin and insect-based diets… There was…much more.

“My ‘duties’ to Cazador entailed bringing him the most beautiful souls I could lure his way from the streets of Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion explained, his eyes far away. “I was meant to do so…with my body. With sweet words and promises and sex. From a tavern corner, from an alleyway, it didn’t matter. What happened to me, what I wanted…none of it mattered. I was a puppet with my orders and I served those souls on silver from the time I could be let off the leash to prowl the city proper. I was told time and time again that my body was all I was good for until I believed it. I still find myself believing it. It’s my only token of trade.

“I may have been free of Cazador from the time the mind flayers snatched me up, but I’ve been realizing that I’m working in the same patterns. Less and less over time, but my survival instincts still default to those old methods. Whatever worked, whatever kept me alive since I wasn’t permitted to die.

“All that to say, I…needed help. When you found me, I needed protection. And therein hatched the plan,” he drew a sharp, anxious intake of unnecessary breath. Áine sat stone-still and just listened, dread still coating her stomach.

“My ‘simple’ plan…was to seduce you. Sleep with you. Manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. At least until I didn’t need your help any longer,” Astarion said, a panicked chuckle passing his lips. “It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two centuries of charming people kicked in. All you had to do…was fall for it.”

His voice cracked as he forced himself to keep looking at her when he wanted to run and bury himself back in the grave. “And all I had to do…was not fall for you. Which I think we both know is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

Astarion’s throat worked as his hands rose from resting against his knees and gestured toward her as if pained. “You… Áine, you are incredible. You deserve something real,” he said, swallowing hard. “I want us to be something real.”

He stopped speaking and Áine knew that he was waiting for her to say something now. She could feel the preemptive tears pooling against her lashes, her nails picking anxiously at her shirt sleeve. She was relieved that it wasn’t over, that she hadn’t done something wrong, but…there was still that sense of betrayal, too.

The signals she’d gotten from him since that night had been real, she knew that, but before… Well, she’d just been stupid before then, was that what she was to take from this? Shadowheart had been absolutely correct in warning her against his advances at that time and she’d just hopped too-willing and wine-flushed into his lap. And she realized the gutting feeling she was experiencing wasn’t necessarily betrayal or anything to do with him, it was embarrassment at her own actions. It was shame. More than that, she was devastated for him and his past.

Áine drew in a shaky breath and asked slowly, “...So the nights we spent together… They didn’t mean anything?” Gods above, don’t you dare cry now, she chided herself. Her inner voice almost didn’t sound like herself in that moment. You weak little thing, why must you always cry?!

“Of course they did, that’s the point!” he said emphatically, his hands twitching like they ached to take hers. “Or…part of it anyway.” Astarion pushed down a grumble of frustration. “Áine, being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I performed to lure people back for him.” His brows canted upward and she saw the heartache in his eyes unmasked. “Even though I know things are different between us, being with someone still feels…tainted. It still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. Sporadically, most days. Other days, constantly.

“I don’t know how else to be with someone… No matter how much I’d like to,” he confessed. “And I would like to. It terrifies me sometimes how much. But I fear misjudging my own capabilities after being so thoroughly broken and taking us down a path leading to ruin. I fear hurting you in trying to do the opposite. But I want to…if you still do or ever did.” Astarion sighed again and it sounded a mix of morose and relieved. “However, I couldn’t keep this from you any longer, as much as telling you felt like a form of sabotage. It would have been unfair to you for me to keep this up.”

Áine’s musings to Shadowheart that night at the party bubbled up in her memory. Of fretting over a similar yet completely different fear. That she would ruin what was between them before it ever began. And now here he was, fretting he’d ruin what they had after it had begun but before it truly blossomed. They were quite a pair.

The bard leveled her gaze at him, unable to help the tears that she tried to manage by swiping her sleeve against her face. “I care about you,” she murmured, the tension in her throat coming through in her tone. “Deeply. But you know that.”

Astarion frowned. He did know that. Firsthand thanks to the tadpole. And in every gesture, every compliment, and every kind touch she’d graced him with, romantic and platonic both. “I do.”

“What do you want?” Áine asked him point blank, sniffling a little as she tried to get her weepiness under control.

The question, as ever, took him off guard. “I…,” he hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.” Astarion’s resolve seemed to renew in the square of his shoulders and the intensity in his gaze as he said, “I—I want to try. With you. If you’ll have me after all this, that is.”

Áine tilted her head a touch. “Astarion, if this is too much for where you’re at right now, I’ve told you before that those ‘friend-based feelings’ exist,” she said. “They’ve been well and truly archived, but I could dig them back out. I hate the idea of worsening the things you’re feeling because you mean to appease me with this.”

“Darling, I don’t mean to appease you. Or at least that’s not my sole reasoning,” he said, his rebuke gentle. “I’ve meant all I’ve said. I want us to be something real. If you can forgive me.” Something crossed his mind then. “Most of my unpleasant reactions arise when it comes to sex specifically. What we’ve done otherwise, I never needed or felt compelled to do before. That’s all new to me. And it’s wonderful.”

Áine nodded slowly, thinking. “So it would be helpful to you if we didn’t for a while? Have sex, I mean.”

Astarion pulled a face. “That seems a poor bargain for you, doesn’t it?”

“Not if it’s not for you,” Áine answered in kind.

“I think I just don’t want you to think of me in terms of sex. I don’t know if I want anyone to,” he admitted, giving a frustrated tsk at his own verbiage. “I don’t quite know what I’m saying anymore, I don’t know how I can expect you to understand if I—”

“No, I…,” Áine murmured, “I get it. More than you might expect.” She held his gaze, searching and vulnerable. “You’re more to me than your body, Astarion. You always have been. And if you don’t want to, then we won’t.”

Astarion looked a mixture of guilty and unsure. “I want to be clear that I do find you unbearably attractive,” he murmured. “And that every time that we have slept together thus far, I’ve wanted to. Even the first time got swept into an emotional affair for me as soon as it started. I just tried to deny it. Clearly, that didn’t work.” He chuckled. “But I do feel awful when those memories resurface while we’re together. So…as tough as it may be to abstain…”

Áine nodded in agreement. “It sounds like perhaps you need some time. And that’s okay. Have as long as you’d like.”

“Does that mean then that you’ll stay with me?” he ventured to ask, hope laying bare in his eyes. “Despite everything I’ve put you through? Everything I’m unsure I can give you?”

“The original intention set aside, you’ve not put me through much of anything,” she pointed out. “The rest unfolds with time if we let it. Believe me when I say that the pause on sex doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been strange in that way. At least it’s finally working to someone’s benefit.”

“Strange?” he repeated. “In what sense?”

Áine shrugged and it was her turn to be embarrassed again. “Most people seem to want more in that regard than I ever have. I’ve spent years trying to understand it, but it’s just how I’m wired,” she explained, her gaze falling to her kneecaps. “I only want to do those sorts of things with someone I care for. I don’t really experience attraction otherwise. Things like one-night stands or romps with strangers have never appealed to me. So, at least in comparison to everyone else I’ve ever met, I’m a bit strange.”

Astarion measured her response. It added more context to his understanding of how she liked to navigate her relationships at least—he’d thought she was just one for long-term love interests in a general sense, but she couldn’t feel attraction unless she was invested, it seemed. And now knowing that her “yes” that night at the party had also meant she already cared for him so much…

“I see,” he said, pensive as he looked her over and noted the way her eyes timidly shifted away from being studied. “I may not have always felt that way, but at least now, after everything… I find that relatable.”

She offered him a faint smile. “You’d be the first.”

Astarion inched forward, cautiously reaching out and taking one of her hands. He looked at her to ensure that he wasn’t doing anything out of turn, reassured as she squeezed his hand. “Honestly,” he murmured, an almost giddy smile touching his lips, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He smoothed his thumb against her knuckles, his other hand coming to stroke along the veins lining the back of her hand. “But this? This is nice.”

Áine’s features softened. “It is.” She sighed and gestured toward herself with her free hand. “Come here, you sweet man,” she mumbled, pulling him into her lap when he shimmied forward, starved for affection but not sure what she wanted him to do.

Astarion laughed, wary of letting his full weight rest against her. “I’ll crush you, you cheeky little pup,” he mumbled, but ultimately relaxed and let his cheek rest against the top of her head. He was infinitely grateful for the comfort of her arms around him. She still wanted him. He could hardly fathom it.

“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered in response to his fretting, gratified when he leaned into her and nuzzled her hair. It almost brought tears to her eyes again how adorable he could be when it was just them. He’d already come such a long way in opening up around her and she only wished that it would continue, more for his sake than hers. She just felt honored to witness it. “I’m pretty sturdy still, even if I’ve been out of rank for a while.”

“No doubt,” he murmured against her crown. “But could you take a vampire? Now that, my darling, is the most interesting question.”

Áine tilted her head back to peer up at him, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. “Spar with me some time and find out. Just for fun.”

Astarion snorted softly and dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Deal.”

It still sent him reeling that he could engage in physical affection, in touch, without it needing to be sexual. It was intimate yet not carnal. When what held him back or sent him into quiet dissociation wasn’t a years-old trigger or that familiar bile of self-loathing, he sometimes found himself holding back because he defaulted to sex as a means to express all degrees of affection and wanting. He didn’t want to “default” to anything with her—he needed to form new inclinations like seeking a handhold (which he was getting better at) or a hug.

Astarion briefly remembered telling Karlach just weeks ago that he wasn’t a hugger and scoffed softly at his foolishness. Perhaps he wasn’t with anyone but Áine, but at least in that regard, so far he was. As if to prove it to himself or practice new motions, he raised his arms from his lap and looped them around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her arms tightened around his waist, one of her hands tracing up and down his side.

In his euphoria, he felt some startling words start to bubble up from his heart, but he stalled them before they could tumble out. Red eyes widened and, out of her view, Astarion found himself reeling all over again with new things to fret over. Gods, she truly has been sent to ruin me.

“I would stay like this all night,” Áine said, jarring him from his panic, “but I don’t think my back would ever recover if we did.” Her features grew serious as she pulled back to look at him. “Thank you, by the way. For trusting me. Again.”

Awkwardly, Astarion inclined his head, his mouth opening and closing like he’d considered something to say and thought better of it. Áine took his silence with grace—it was hard to open up. He huffed a sigh and surprised her when he said, “Well, thank you. For… Well. Everything.” Astarion met her eyes, his expression a bit more dreamy. “You’re…well, you’re full of surprises. Aren’t you.”

It wasn’t particularly a question and it made Áine’s blush return. They sat like that a while longer until it was clear that Áine wasn’t long for this conscious world and Astarion finally moved and let her up. She was brushing herself off when she glanced up and found Astarion hesitating near his tent, looking like he wanted to say something again. She took a glance around and guessed at what ailed him, asking, “Do you…want to cohabitate tonight?”

“I do,” Astarion said, combing a nervous hand through his curls. “But just…that. I’m sorry, I just…think we’re correct in taking a break from sex.” He sighed, his brow furrowed in pained frustration as he looked at the ground. “I’ve made this far more difficult than it should be.”

“You haven’t,” Áine assured him gently. “Even if we weren’t holding off, it’s not like that’s something we have to do every night anyway.” He peeked at her, looking unsure. “Just get comfortable, I’m going to grab a couple of things and I’ll be in. Alright?”

Astarion nodded and cleared his throat before he ducked into his tent. He hardly knew how this was helpful, he was just finding new ways to hate himself by putting her through this. No matter what she said, the guilt still hung over him, thick and suffocating. How long until she realized he wasn’t all she seemed to think? How long until she saw the full extent of the baggage he brought with him everywhere he went?

Áine didn’t take long to return to his side and he looked up to see her toting a few of the plush pillows from her tent and her blanket. He smirked at her, but the expression didn’t touch his eyes, and he could only be glad that her darkvision didn’t seem to be as good as his.

“Moving in?” he teased her as she set down the pillows and arranged them to accommodate them both.

“Problem?” she countered, collapsing on her work when she was satisfied.

“I suppose not,” he allowed. In reality, his dead heart was full to bursting.

“Good,” Áine remarked through a yawn as she got comfortable. She’d staked her spot confidently, but in truth, she’d worried about overstepping. His teasing put her somewhat at ease, but she still wasn’t sure what he was comfortable with. They were firmly back to testing the waters, which was always unnerving, but she didn’t mind because it was him.

They were silent for a while after Astarion laid down next to her and Áine was sure he’d gone into reverie until she heard him tentatively say her name. “Yes?” she asked, her immediate worry apparent in her voice.

“I…,” Astarion began and then retreated. “Hm, nevermind, darling, I’m sorry.”

Her brow furrowed. “Um… You sure?” she asked.

Another long pause. Astarion cleared his throat and murmured, “Would it be alright if… If I held you again? The way we did the other night?”

Áine smiled, blinking back tears as she turned on her side to reach out and pull him close. They adjusted around each other until they were in a perfect tangle again. This time, however, because Áine sensed perhaps he was the one needing to be held, she gathered him into her arms and kissed his forehead. He rested his head against her chest and felt something close to peace as he listened to her heart.

Gods above, she’d broken him. He considered that with some measure of horror as he felt tears well up in his eyes, tears he buried against her chest and in the crook of her neck. Her warmth and her pulse sang to him like her evening serenades and he sank into her with all the reverence of a prayer.

He was almost startled when she spoke again, pausing in tracing his little patterns against her back. “You can still drink from me tonight if you want to,” she mumbled, sounding utterly content and almost half-asleep.

Astarion’s brows rose. “I can?” he replied, giving an embarrassed cough to belatedly cover how shocked he sounded. “I mean, I… I just thought…” I’m not holding my end of our bargain anymore, he finished in his mind alone, not sure how to speak the words. How is this possibly fair to you?

As if reading his mind, Áine laughed softly and kissed his hair as her fingertips traced against the nape of his neck and the finer hairs there. “Nothing about this has ever been transactional, darling,” she murmured and he noticed that she didn’t put her usual spin of mimicking his drawl on the endearment. Perhaps she was too tired, but it sent a little thrill through him nonetheless. “And it certainly isn’t going to start being transactional now.”

A sigh eased from his chest. He considered thanking her but thought better of adding yet another one to the pile of the night, wary of those words of gratitude growing overused. Instead, he kissed across her neck before he bit down across his old marks, his eyes rolling back and his snowy lashes fluttering in ecstasy as her essence wept past his lips.

He was careful to stop well before he would’ve even caused her to feel lightheaded, but after licking the wounds closed, he drew back just to make sure she was okay…only to find her sound asleep.

Bleeding Hells, I refuse to start crying again, he swore inwardly, raising his fingertips to gently trace her features. To trust him enough to doze off while he was fangs-deep in her was…

…well it felt hardly deserved, but he’d never before felt such a tender ache in his chest.

Next chapter: Chapter 17, "Get Up"

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indigosunsetao3 · 1 month ago

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On this episode of things no one tells you that happen when you get to your thirties.

Tw: period, hormones, hormonal birth control, therapy, medical stuff, mental health stuff

This is purely my experience as a female in my mid-thirties. I am not trying to sway people one way or another. I’m not giving medical advice. I’m just sharing what happened to me because things like this aren’t talked about enough. And someone else may be going through this.

I had been on birth control since I was fourteen. I’m from the generation of “cramps?” Birth control. “moody?” Birth control. “Acne?” Birth control. “No issues at all but you’ve got a period?” Birth control. Basically anything ‘wrong’ with a teenage girl just give them birth control and they’ll hush up about it.

I never came off it until I was 33. Thirty. Three. Almost twenty years on the medication without a single break. Just changing from one brand or another as I got older. I was told I needed it, I had to have it. The doctors put fear into me of getting off it. Aside from getting pregnant being a risk (I don’t want kids, never have so this was a legit scary risk for me) they talked about so many other side effects. Like a heavy period that wouldn’t stop. Cysts (I have those anyway). Hair loss. I listened and I stayed on it.

Until I couldn’t anymore.

I came close to a mental break in 2021. I was having panic attacks, hair falling out in clumps, couldn’t eat, what I did eat I threw up. I had multiple tests done by all sorts of different doctors but everything was ‘normal’ and maybe I should think about losing some weight. Yet, not once was I asked about birth control or have my hormones tested. Birth control is just a standard for people my age I guess, no need to talk about it. Medical care for AFAB is fabulous.

All of this kept spiraling and getting worse thanks to my health anxiety. I was fairly certain I was dying, and that is not an exaggeration. My life was consumed with reading about illnesses, signs, symptoms, tests to take, specialists to see etc. I would take my blood pressure, temperature, pulse, blood oxygen level and count the hairs I lost multiple times a day. Then write it all down to obsess over and try to compare to see a pattern. Sure this would help me figure out what was happening. Not realizing it was making it ten times worse.

My husband was terrified for me and we had a very long conversation where he begged me to talk to someone.

So I started therapy.

And boy did that unlock a lot of stuff we don’t need to get into. And for a bit while working through things it got worse before it got better. But. By happy circumstance my therapist had a background in the medical field. Specifically hormones. Super specifically aided in the study of hormonal birth control on woman who had been on it long term. And one night birth control came up in conversation and we went down a rabbit hole.

Over a few weeks we worked together to get me off of it. To try and see if maybe stopping it would help. See if maybe my hormones were unbalanced as I got older and the hormones in the birth control were making it worse. We figured out safe sex practices (I’m monogamous and so is my husband…but the whole we don’t want kids thing). And after careful planning and consulting another doctor, I got off my birth control.

And when I say it was a whole new world after just six weeks I am not lying. Or exaggerating. My life completely changed.

The panic attacks stopped. I didn’t feel sick all the time. I could pull myself from my spiraling much faster and easier. The scary thoughts on a loop in my mind quieted from a constant shout, to an inside voice, to a whisper. Three months in my hair started coming back and not shedding. Six months I was enjoying food again and not force feeding myself because I felt sick eating it but I had to eat. A year later I got back into all my old hobbies, including reading which progressed to writing again.

My body still isn’t back to ‘normal’. I miss periods. I have extra long periods. I’m moody as fuck leading up to and on it. The fatigue is no joke. I get acne on my chin and back. Cramps can make me double over sometimes. The flow is heavy. I’ll get headaches that make my eyes feel like they’re being squeezed in a vice.

I never had any of this while on birth control. Twenty years with a period and I had no idea how my body actually worked on a period. What was my normal.

I’ve had to call my friend in a panic when I was bleeding heavy to have her assure me I was not dying. Or commiserate over the fucking breast pain (like wtf is this shit?). Or ask if it was normal to feel so exhausted you can’t move from the couch.

I still have anxiety. I am diagnosed with OCD, PTSD, Hypochondria and General Anxiety. I still deal with these issues every day, and I have bad days and worse days. But I also feel so much better.

And I am also well aware many people do need/want hormonal birth control. Some people need it to survive and function. Some people feel better with it than without it. Some people it works better for. Some people just want it. Any and all reasons are completely real and valid. I’m not bashing or judging people for taking it. I’m not saying birth control is evil, or bad. I’m not saying anyone needs to stop it or stopping it is a fix for everyone’s problems. This was just…my experience and it all started when I was about 30/31.

Anyway. I’m currently on said period, I’m exhausted and feeling very emotional and just…I wanted to share this in case the off chance it can help someone.

You aren’t alone.

And if I offended anyone with my own personal experience…sorry?

#real life things #real life #being in your 30s is a whole new world #and no one prepared me for some of it #hormonal birth control #hormones #period #mental health #medical topics #therapy #female perspective

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skoulsons · 2 years ago

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Joel feeling like a failure and feeling the need to apologize to Ellie, even over things he can’t control, is, I think, very much an anxiety thing. And also comes down to who you are at your core. Even him telling Tommy, “I have to leave her,” because he doubts his capabilities in being able to protect her in the long run and believes she’ll be better off without him

Joel loves hard. He loves really hard when he does. He loved Tess, despite his inability to show it to her the extent I think we all believe it was. He loves Tommy, we know that. He was willing to drive cross country just to make sure he was okay after three weeks of radio silence. Maybe not loved, but he sure started to care about Henry and Sam and was willing to let them join he and Ellie on their journey to Jackson. And he loves, loves Ellie. More than he’s even comfortable with. (Un)willing to leave her, shove her away from him, even if it means she’ll be safe, as much as he wants to keep her right next to him, held against his side

But what comes with loving someone, what comes with having a heart like this, and what comes with this fear of the well-being and safety of those around you, is a striking belief in your inability to do for them what you believe you should do. It is blaming yourself for things out of your control when they come up in the others life. It’s believing you’re responsible for…nearly everything about them. It is caring way too much about them that you want to take that pain upon yourself to relieve that person of it. And it, in turn, makes you believe you’re not good enough when you can’t. Incapable. Unworthy. Along with the general mix of…not feeling adequate or good enough in general. You want to help this person in every way, but your belief in your inadequacy creates such a debilitating sense of understanding of what you really want and who you are

But, I say it’s an anxiety thing because of believing that person will blame you for something that’s out of your control. That because you couldn’t stop something that, frankly, is completely out of your control and responsibility and could’ve never stopped in a million years, you find a way to blame yourself and, in turn, think this person will also blame you for not being able to stop it. Because you care too much and are too freaked over protecting them that your understanding of how they feel gets completely warped. That you think they’ll lash out and cut you off. That they’ll be angry with you for what you couldn’t stop. And, out of the fear of believing that could happen, you take it upon yourself to apologize. To try and take it and place the blame upon yourself. To try and keep that person from becoming angry with you

And we know Joel (I think??) took anti anxiety meds even Before. That he was forced to cut it immediately, worsening it tremendously. And with how hard he loves, especially Ellie? That’s a nightmare for mental health. His fear over her life and well-being. His belief in his inability to protect her due to how afraid he is. How he’s failed at protecting her innocence, something that is inevitably out of his control because of the world they live in. How he probably blames himself for Ellie watching Henry off himself. Something, again, he could not control because Henry threatened his life. And nearly Ellie’s. And he tells Tommy he has to leave her because he believes he’s incapable and unworthy of protecting her. Maybe it is his age and hearing. More than that, I think it’s a mix of this anxiety and his golden love for her that makes him think it’s the right thing to do

People like this, like me, need a lot of convincing. Convincing and reaffirming that not everything is on us. That we can be taken care of. That we can take breaks and don’t have to hold the weight of the world on our shoulders, and I think that’s exactly what Winter does for Joel and Ellie. For Joel to, in my opinion, view himself in this light and to shove her away and for her to come running back, holding his hand and telling him, wordlessly, that she is there to take care of him. She’s there to convince him, “it’s you and me. Rest, let me take care of you.” To reaffirm and comfort him through it. Sure, he’s forced to rest bc he’s basically comatose, but it applies to at least the beginning. That his probably last real moment of consciousness before he wakes in episode 8 was her coming back to take care of him. To show him that it’s not just him

#maybe this is just 3am me projecting #which it VERY well could be #but idk I was thinking about joel and anxiety and my fingers just typed things #so who knows if this makes any sense whatsoever #if it doesn’t please act like I never ever typed this!!#the last of us hbo #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #I feel like there are things I mentioned here that I did not connect back to but I am very very sleepy so I apologize for that #this feels like a school essay that I didn’t do an outline or a rough draft for #and I just handed it in when I wrote it all the night before

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jeniffercheck · 1 year ago

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i think i believe in getting saved (it’ll hit all at once)

shivlina: canon divergent, shivlina origins pre-season 1; my take on how they could’ve gotten together. CWs below the cut.

words: 14k

read here or on ao3

cw: no scenes of actual domestic violence but there are a few detailed descriptions, self harm is mostly referenced/implied with no graphic descriptions, mental health issues is for panic attacks/anxiety. there's a lot of humor but this fic gets decently dark at some points so please be safe

Karolina meets Shiv Roy on a Monday.

They’re closing a deal and Logan let them know late into Sunday evening that they were expected at the office bright and early. PR would need to draft the terms immediately in ways that the media could understand, and in ways that made it look like Waystar wasn’t losing prestige or power, which Karolina couldn’t say she isn’t concerned about with every new deal they seem to take on.

This normally wouldn’t be an issue; she generally thinks she’s excited to go to work and draft press releases for these otherworldly things, type out numbers she can’t even conceive of and be one of the people who gets to go out into the world and speak it into existence, but she’d barely had time to sleep over the weekend do a different, more pressing PR crisis at Waystar. A kid died in one of the theme parks. It wasn’t their fault. The autopsy disclosed an unknown heart problem that had been triggered during a rollercoaster ride. There’s no evidence as to whether or not the ride could’ve actually been the cause, rather than the incident just occurring while he happened to be on it, but that’s not the part that Karolina is fixated on.

The autopsy didn’t include that a successful combination of CPR and defibrillation have been shown to lower the risk of death from a cardiac event related to this disease, if treated in time.

She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the after-action report she received.

Response Time: 15 minutes.

She kept looking at the paper, wondering if maybe a Xerox machine had hidden a dot somewhere between the one and the five, or if maybe they meant to put one but then thought it was five and whichever number they erased just wasn’t erased enough. She knows she had nothing to do with it, that she has no control over the on-site medical services in a theme park three states away from her with an entire management team of their own, but it’s hard, when you’re the one making the excuses. When it’s your face they see as they’re being made.

She also knows that the report will disappear. That when she goes to lunch later, she’ll come back and they’ll just be gone, and when she mentions it again, they’ll say that page didn’t exist and that she must be mistaken. She wonders briefly if any of this is even worth it, but she doesn’t have time to contemplate because her coffee order is being announced by the pick-up bar.

She picks up the coffee, and then a voice rings out.

“I think that’s mine.”

She looks up to find a redhead, looking unamused.

“Um, no…” Karolina says, trying to get a better read on the cup’s marking, “This was my order.”

She worries that the woman is going to start a fight with her in the middle of the coffee shop, which she absolutely does not have time for, and she checks her watch, thinking about just abandoning the coffee and heading off to the office. As she does so, the woman speaks up again.

“Wait—do I know you?”

Karolina looks up again, inspecting the woman closer, and then she realizes. Shiv Roy.

“I work for Waystar,” Karolina says. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Karolina thinks it must be weird, knowing there’s an entire ecosystem of people who know everything about your existence, yet you know nothing of theirs.

“Are you sure?” Shiv asks. “What’s your name?”

“Karolina,” Karolina says. “I’m in the PR department.”

Shiv’s eyes widen, and an amused smirk forms across her face.

“I know you,” she says. “Your press releases were all the rage when Kendall went on his last bender.”

She’s unsure of how she should respond to one Roy sibling being amused by another’s devastatingly public mental breakdown, but she figures she should just please whichever Roy is in front of her at any given moment, and right now, that means Shiv.

“Well, I wasn’t aware I had an audience,” she says. “I’m glad he’s doing better.”

“Right,” Shiv says. “We all are.”

Karolina can’t tell whether she’s being sarcastic or genuine, but she decides she doesn’t want to know, and anyway, she needs to get into the office to get all of this theme park shit squared away before the new deal briefing. She was left with the coffee in the grabbing war, but she offers it to Shiv instead, who immediately waves her off.

“No, take it,” Shiv says. “It’ll piss my dad off if I’m late.”

She’s smirking again and the flash of unbridled rebellion in her eyes is unmissable. It’s the kind of pleasure that can only be found in a child doing something specifically to mess with their parents.

“You’re coming into the office?” Karolina asks, surprised. She can already feel her sleep schedule go to ruin at the thought of the pages and pages of internal memos and presentations she’ll have to draft about what it means for another Roy to be entering the ranks of the C-Suite.

“Just election stuff,” Shiv says, as if she were reading Karolina’s mind. “Dad doesn’t like my candidate so, he dragged me all the way out here just to let me know.”

“Kind of him,” Karolina says, feigning a smile. If she sees Shiv squint at her inquisitively, she doesn’t let it show, and she holds up the coffee in front of her. “Um, thanks, and good luck, with the uh, pissing him off.”

“See you around?” Shiv says, her words trailing off like it’s some sort of proposal that Karolina better say yes to. She finds that she wants to, but Karolina will be the first to admit she finds no pleasure in pleasing.

“Bye, Shiv,” she says, not looking back to see the expression on Shiv’s face.

—

The deal goes through, and Logan is elated. The whole room is, really, but Karolina’s been mulling over this theme park case and can’t find it in her to be happy over something as trivial as money when they’ve got a negligent death on their hands. Karolina tries to leave the room as fast as possible, to go deal with this in the peace and quiet of her own office, but Logan stops her before she can escape.

“How’s that kid?” he asks her.

She grips her laptop tight against her chest, and in the heat of the moment, she can’t stop from snapping. Albeit calmly.

“You mean the dead one?” she asks, her voice tight.

She stares at Logan, and she knows her own expression is unreadable. Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath, but she just quirks an eyebrow.

“The situation,” Logan clarifies.

“It’s under control,” Karolina confirms, which really, is all she had to say in the first place.

“Very well,” he says, gesturing for her to leave.

She ignores Shiv’s impressed gaze on her way out.

—

The parents want to sue.

Logan agrees to settle, not uncommon for theme park accidents regardless of who is the faulty party, as long as the problem can be swept away as quickly as possible and kept out of public court records. She feels sick thinking about how she’d explained the situation.

Due to the waivers upon entry into the park and the necessary warning signage for each ride, we are under no liability when a park attendee suffers a medical incident due to their own personal negligence. In this particular case, there is still cause for concern in how we administered first aid, but if we settle with the parents now, we’ll still be able to control the narrative in the media.

Then, she empties her lunch into the toilet as she recounts the lawyers telling the parents Logan’s offer.

Give them one-seven and lifetime passes.

She pushes the shame back somewhere unreachable, and when she exits the stall, one Shiv Roy is reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.

“Didn’t think that was in anymore,” Shiv says, absentmindedly.

Karolina rolls her eyes as she walks to the sink, wondering why Shiv Roy suddenly thinks they’re sparring partners.

“I ate something bad for lunch,” Karolina says, feeling annoyed that she’s even trying to explain herself at all, and she rinses out her mouth and washes her hands, hoping it’ll cleanse away even a little bit of the guilt that’s still lingering.

She can feel Shiv’s eyes on her as she dries her hands and lifts her purse onto the counter, digging through it. She successfully ignores the unwanted attention until there’s a hand in front of her, holding out a piece of gum in a sleek, silver wrapper. She stares at it for a second, and then grabs it.

“Thanks,” she says, flicking her eyes to Shiv’s through the mirror.

Shiv shrugs, closing her own bag and propping it back on her shoulder.

“I liked the way you talked back to my dad,” she says, then leaves the bathroom.

Karolina wonders if a Roy liking anything about her is a good thing.

—

Somehow, Shiv gets her number.

Her immediate thought is no, because she thinks getting involved in any capacity with the political strategist-daughter of her temperamental boss is the last thing she should consider, especially during an election year, but Shiv says it’s strictly business and that she could use some advice and just a quick round of drinks?

So, what’s the harm? Worst case, Shiv does have ulterior motives and Karolina just has to tread lightly, best case, she genuinely wants advice and Karolina gets to restore some of the karmic balance in her morally disturbed life.

That’s how she finds herself sitting at a high top in a dingy dive bar, watching a news anchor read her press release about the theme park death on national television. Her words feel so sterile being read out to her, and she tries to gauge the reactions of the other patrons of the bar, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s paying attention. She suddenly wonders if she cared too much, but then she remembers the way the mother had cried during the legal proceedings, and she doesn’t think she could have ever cared enough.

By the time Shiv shows up, Karolina’s on edge.

“Shiv, I’m not really authorized to give out advice that might conflict with the interests of Waystar,” she warns.

“The conflicts are all economic,” Shiv waves off. “Tax breaks and antitrust. Nothing that’ll take down the company, I promise.”

She’s not sure how much a promise is worth coming from Shiv, but she decides to stay cordial.

“Sure,” Karolina says. She’s also not sure how much the economy would warrant such a lengthy visit from his youngest child, but she lets it slide. ‘So, what do you need help with?”

“Narrative,” Shiv says. “How to spin something ugly, in your favor.”

Karolina’s strength.

“How ugly?” she asks.

“Pretty ugly.”

A number of options run through Karolina’s mind.

Denial. Payouts. Intimidation. Convoluted paper trails. Victim-blaming.

“Is this something you can stop from getting out?” she asks instead.

Shiv shakes her head, and Karolina sighs.

“For a political candidate, you obviously need to be in control. Ten steps ahead,” she says. “Simply ignoring allegations creates a sense of distrust but addressing them head-on after they’ve come out or minimizing them feels dishonest, especially if this is going to be a big story.”

“So…what?” Shiv asks, “You admit to it?”

“Whatever you say, it needs to be believable, and you need to say it first. It doesn’t have to be an admission of guilt,” Karolina says. “It can also be an admission of rehabilitation.”

Shiv writes something down in a small notebook she’d brought, and Karolina finds that she’s surprised by Shiv's reason for this meeting actually being true. Shiv looks up as she writes, and Karolina takes it as a sign to continue.

“Say it’s a DUI charge,” Karolina says. “You emphasize that the client has worked hard to move on from a troubled time in their past and they’ve been consistently making great strides in doing so. They attend regular AA meetings, they’ve been sober for ten years, they have a happy and wonderful family. Show that they’re human.”

“What if they’re a truly terrible human?” Shiv asks.

Karolina twists her beer bottle in her hand. It’s a fragile game, helping terrible people escape the consequences of everyday life. She just wishes she weren’t so good at it.

“Donations are a decent safety net,” Karolina says. “People like to see a rich man put his money where his mouth is.”

Shiv writes more on the notepad and Karolina takes a sip of her beer.

“I think I’ve seen one or two of these things on Kendall’s Instagram story before,” Shiv says as she looks up again.

“You have,” Karolina replies, unamused. She chews on her lip, starting to feel uneasy. “I assume it’s worse than a DUI?”

“Just a little,” Shiv says. “Any advice for something more…unconventional?”

Karolina’s been trying to avoid setting Shiv up for the truly amoral routes, but there are only a few ways that situations like this can go. Still, she opts for one of the easier-to-stomach strategies in her arsenal.

“I’d go with sex addict,” Karolina says. “It’s still stigmatized, but there’s some sympathy to be had if you’re labeling the problem as something that can be worked on. A lot of people won’t buy it but…some will.”

“That’s…” Shiv trails off.

“Horrible,” Karolina finishes for her.

“I was going to say smart,” Shiv says, “but horrible works too.”

Karolina feels sick again. She wonders if she looks it, because Shiv closes her notebook and leans back in her seat, trading her pen for a swig of beer.

“And what if you get paid the same amount, regardless of how this scandal affects the outcome of the election?”

Karolina raises her eyebrows and takes a deep breath as she thinks.

“Then…you suggest your client’s donation is very sizable, and you leave some room for legal action in their public statement, if needed,” Karolina says. “Like, that they’d be willing to speak with those they’ve affected to apologize, or something to that nature. The victim’s lawyers will come crawling.”

“And I can still sleep easy at night,” Shiv says.

Karolina averts her eyes.

“Sometimes,” she says, drinking her beer.

“Well,” Shiv says, “maybe that’s a pipe dream in this line of work.”

Karolina used to think it wasn’t, but the decisions add up. The choices add up.

“Is this your first?” she asks.

“Scandal?”

Karolina nods.

“No,” Shiv says, shaking her head. “My first as the lead, though.”

Karolina remembers her first. It was at some hedge fund straight out of college and the Chief Financial Officer was found embezzling. She wishes things were still that simple.

“You’ll get used to it,” Karolina says, seeing ATN has moved on from discussing the theme park. “Enough people won’t give a fuck.”

Shiv follows her eyes, frowning slightly at the TV. She turns back to Karolina, sympathetic eyes now boring into her. Shiv leans forward.

“I’m sorry about my dad being dismissive over that kid,” she says. “Obviously you know what he’s like, but…yeah. On behalf of the Roys. For whatever it’s worth.”

Karolina shifts in her seat. She’s not sure why this specific assignment is hitting so hard. Maybe it’s as simple as the fact that a kid died, but she’s also been running ragged the past few months with acquisition after acquisition and deal after deal. It’s possible she just needs a damn vacation.

“Thanks, Shiv,” she says. “I appreciate it, really.”

When she’s in bed that night, unable to close her eyes, she finds it doesn’t really make a difference.

—

She doesn’t see Shiv for another five weeks, until the annual Waystar Gala.

It’s usually a nice night. The Waystar team focuses on making sure the shareholders and board members feel like their money is worth something more than just brainwashing Middle America with right-wing news and shiny new cruises and theme parks. It should be a night where the executives are distracted and Karolina can slip away, not have to clean up twenty-billion messes that shouldn’t even exist, but she could never be so lucky.

The parents of the kid didn’t accept the terms of the settlement. Somehow, the red tape got muddled and the after-action report was discovered, so they’re suing for medical negligence. It’s impossible to spin now. Waystar killed a kid.

So, instead of drinking champagne and leaning against a wall somewhere with Gerri playing daughter or wife?, she’s in Logan’s suite-turned-war room, staring him down as he yells at her. He’s spouting something about, how the fuck did you miss this and this is why need killers in the room instead of soft crybabies who are worried about doing the right thing and back in my day if you died in a theme park that would just be the end of it and you’d just be fucking dead, which, Karolina doesn’t think is true, but she’s not going to argue that one with him right now. His rant goes on for a while, and she’s not brand new to being the target of his rage, but it’s definitely the most intense treatment she’s ever received, and it doesn’t help that it’s about a faulty death of a child and she’s being berated since it’s somehow her fault they got caught.

“Well?” Logan shouts when he’s finished, a cue that it’s her turn to get a word in.

“I have a meeting with legal scheduled,” Karolina says calmly. “We’re going to discuss what our exact options are, and we’ll work from there. If we have to hang some brass at the park, we will, but there’s a chance we can still sway the parents into settling if we offer enough.”

“Sure, drain my fucking pockets for a bunch of deadbeats,” Logan grumbles. “That’s all?”

“Unless you need something else?” she asks, which, she really hopes he doesn’t because she doesn’t think she can stand to be in this room longer than it takes to end the conversation. He watches her carefully, but she stands her ground, her hands gripped tight around her phone but her expression neutral.

“Fuck off,” he finally says.

She wastes no time leaving the room. Gerri knows better than to try and follow her, but Shiv tries to stop her on her way out of the suite to which she can only offer a raised hand a shaking head. She just needs to get outside. She finds her way to a staircase labeled with roof access, figuring a few floors up is quicker than fourteen floors down, and she briefly thinks about how this definitely has to be a disaster waiting to happen for the hotel, because of course, the only thing Karolina knows how to think about is managing the crises of wealthy people who have no regards for anything at all.

By the time she makes it up (the door was unlocked, by the way) she’s not entirely sure whether she’s totally out of breath due to the two flights of stairs or because she’s on the verge of needing a gallon of sedatives her in system, but her educated guess is that it’s definitely the sedatives and she should at least try to get her head on straight before she ruins her whole career because she couldn’t handle five minutes of reprimanding.

She feels the familiar swell of anxiety in her chest, and although it makes her feel better to know she’s not suddenly become a ‘soft crybaby,’ it doesn’t make her feel better to know an issue she thought was behind her is back, because really, the timing could not be worse. She frantically digs through her purse, hoping for some odd reason there’s a pill left over, but there’s nothing, her old emergency stash gone from years of dormancy. Her back is turned to the door she came out of, but she can hear the door swing open and a pair of heels slick toward her.

If she could just find a cigarette.

“How do you do that?” Shiv’s voice rings out, though it sounds distant and muffled, and she finally finds a smoke and a lighter.

She turns around, not quite able to figure out what Shiv is referencing. She’s using everything in her to just stay calm, hoping the encouraging infusion of nicotine can help soothe her quickly rising panic levels. Except she can’t hold her fucking hand steady enough to spark the lighter.

“Do what?” she asks, cigarette hanging out of her mouth and lungs inflating and deflating at a very rapid pace. She tries to spark the lighter again, but her shaking hand shifts just as she gets it and the flame nicks her thumb, causing her to drop the lighter in a quick yelp of pain, “Fuck!”

“Woah, woah,” Shiv says, rushing forward. She bends down and picks up the lighter, “It’s okay, come on, I’ll do it.”

Karolina looks to her briefly, still confused as to why Shiv’s even on the roof with her, but she nods, raising the cigarette back to her mouth, hand still trembling at an embarrassingly high rate. Shiv lights it and Karolina closes her eyes as she inhales, welcoming the dizzying distraction for the few seconds it lingers. She holds the smoke in for as long as she physically can, and then blows it out into a steady stream, making her way to a wall across from the edge of the rooftop. She leans against it, grateful she can move some of her energy from trying not to fall over to trying to breathe, and Shiv follows her.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Shiv says, and Karolina thinks it’s a stupid thing to say, because why would Shiv even know whether or not she smoked?

“I don’t,” she says. “I quit.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” Shiv says, laughing to herself.

Karolina might laugh if they were under any other circumstance, but she can’t and she feels bad because her attempt probably comes out more like a strangled gasp of air than anything else. She’s definitely still a misstep away from hyperventilating her lungs out, so she can’t find it in herself to feel too bad.

“Sorry,” Shiv then backtracks, “I can leave—if you need—”

“No,” Karolina says, surprising herself. “You can stay.”

“Okay,” Shiv says. “Okay. Yeah, um…I’ll just, I’ll be right here.”

Karolina nods, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool brick of the roof. Her neck tingles as she does so, but before she can spiral about what that means, she tries to focus on Shiv’s presence, the shifting of her dress against the brick and the sounds her heels make as she gets comfortable. She just tries to breathe through it, waiting for her body to catch up with her mind and realize she’s not in any immediate danger.

“I saw your, um…fuck—your story break,” Karolina says between deep breaths. She thinks she must sound incredibly silly trying to have a conversation like this when she can barely even breathe, but she thinks a conversation might help her through it. Force her to find some semblance of air. “The supportive wife on Good Morning America—it was a, um, it was a nice touch.”

She can’t gauge Shiv’s reaction, because her eyes are still closed, but she seems to take the hint as she carries the conversation on like nothing is actually wrong and they’re just casually having a smoke out on a rooftop.

“Well, I thought about the strategy you proposed, you know, victimize and humanize the client, so when the wife seemed amenable, I thought, why not take it one step further and turn the whole family unit into victims?” Shiv says. “If his wife can forgive him, you can too.”

“You gonna vote for him?” Karolina asks.

“You know, unfortunately, I’m still not a registered voter in the District of Columbia,” Shiv says, feigning disappointment. “So, I’ll just have to sit this one out.”

Karolina laughs, very briefly, trading it inward for another shallow breath. She pushes herself against the back wall harder, just willing it to keep her steady enough to not fucking topple to the ground.

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone?” Shiv asks. “Something?”

Karolina tries to think, but she can’t really go beyond what’s in front of her, and right now, that’s Shiv.

“I don’t know, um…the talking—that was helping,” Karolina manages to get out.

“Okay,” Shiv says, sounding slightly nervous. “Uh, beautiful weather out here to have a panic attack in, really, I must say. You picked a great night.”

Karolina can’t help her eyes from opening at that, even cracking a smile through the labored breaths.

“Jesus,” she says. “That was bad.”

“Well, this isn’t really something they teach you about in political strategist school, so,” Shiv says, though she looks a little proud of herself for the small bit of progress, even if wasn’t intentional.

“Maybe not when you buy your way through a degree,” Karolina says. She’s not sure the remark has her usual bite, which is probably good because it’s a risky joke when she doesn’t know Shiv that well, but Shiv actually laughs once Karolina’s said it.

“Fuck off,” Shiv says, an unlike her father, it sounds warm and comforting and she actually has a ghost of a smile.

Karolina tries backing off the wall, just a little bit, but the sudden movement brings back another bout of dizziness. She brings a hand to her forehead, as if she can somehow just will it to pass, but the aggressive thinking just sends her nerves skyrocketing again, as if she’s in quicksand and the struggle keeps making it worse. She tries quickly turning around, resting an arm against the wall and she hangs her head in the space next to arm, hoping the small enclosure can somehow create a false sense of stability.

“I’m sorry,” Karolina says. “I just need another second.”

She thinks she probably needs more than just a second, and she’s sure Shiv can guess that too, but Shiv obliges, and Karolina uses the silence to actually focus on her breathing, counting ins and outs, until the pattern is a little less erratic. Shiv doesn’t speak again until Karolina’s turned back around, no longer stumbling at just trying to stand.

“Does this happen often?” Shiv asks, her voice softer than Karolina has ever heard from her.

“Not anymore,” Karolina manages to say, and then immediately regrets it, because this is Shiv Roy and there’s really no reason to be divulging anything to her at all like she’s some kind of emotional dumping ground.

“I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t—” Karolina shakes her head, still battling to find words in her malfunctioning head. “You can go. You don’t have to stay.”

“What, and go back down to that reenactment of the House of Usher?” Shiv chuckles. “I’d rather be up here. Watch the family crumble from afar.”

Karolina goes to take another drag of the cigarette, but it’s mostly burned out. Her hand is still shaking, though far less, and she’s able to take a steadier huff than before, getting what she can out of it and dropping it to the ground.

“Didn’t the whole house fall?” Karolina asks. “I’m not sure the roof would be the best place to stand.”

“In that case…” Shiv sounds nervous. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Karolina raps her knuckles against the wall, the statement makes her breath hitch again.

“To go where?”

“Uh, presumably an apartment,” Shiv says. “With a bed.”

Karolina laughs nervously and eyes Shiv, Shiv just staring back at her with a smug smile. Karolina stops laughing.

“Shiv, I don’t know what makes you think—”

“I’m joking,” Shiv says.

Karolina immediately sighs a relieved breath of air, nearly having forgotten that she was supposed to be trying to breathe at all.

“I mean, unless young, business-savvy redheads are your type,” Shiv says, still shining a sickeningly arrogant smile. “Though, maybe you’ve been eying one of the geriatrics downstairs? Might be tough competition for me.”

“God,” Karolina says, Shiv’s words finally making her laugh for real.

Shiv looks almost a little too proud of herself for making Karolina fully smile, and she wonders if there’s any hint of truth in Shiv’s initial invite, but she tries to not let her mind even go there. She does think it would be nice to just rid herself of this evening, but…with Shiv?

A softer expression then takes hold of Shiv’s face, and Karolina’s again surprised at this nicer side of a Roy. She wasn’t actually sure any of the bloodline had it in them.

“I’m serious, why don’t we just blow this fucking raisin farm,” she says. “Crack open a bottle of wine, get out of these heels…shit talk my dad?”

Karolina almost wants to say yes, but then she remembers the mountain of new paperwork she still has to get through the pounding headache that she knows is due any second.

“I appreciate the offer, really, but I think I just need to go home,” she says, hoping she comes across as genuine. For whatever reason, there’s still a small part of her that would like to take Shiv up on it. Maybe she would have if the night turned out differently. Shiv seems to accept the response easily, though Karolina’s sure Shiv is a pusher under the right conditions. In any case, she does feel ready to sleep for the next three days, and she knows it’s the right thing to do, so she texts Gerri to let her know that she hasn’t offed herself and that she’s just going to go home for the night, and pulls up her car service app.

“Hey, at least let me get you a ride?” Shiv asks, gesturing to Karolina’s phone. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

Karolina isn’t shocked at the gesture. She thinks maybe if her father treated employees like this, she’d also go out of her way to avoid a lawsuit waiting to happen, but there’s also a certain vulnerability to Shiv’s tone, like maybe she is doing it completely out of the goodness of her own heart. Maybe a small part of Karolina is hoping Shiv is doing it for selfish reasons as well. She’s finding that despite the circumstance, some small part of her has actually been enjoying Shiv’s company.

“Okay,” she finally says, nodding her head. “Um, and thank you for, you know, this…”

Her voice trails off, because really, she’d lying if she said she wasn’t a little embarrassed.

“Don’t mention it,” Shiv says. “I’ve seen worse.”

Karolina thinks back to her last Kendall Roy press release and cringes, deridingly feeling less bad about her episode. She follows Shiv to valet, and she uses the car ride to regain some of her energy, letting the potholes and honking taxis lull her back into a state of semi-normalcy. Shiv seems to respect the quiet, not really speaking beyond offering her water and asking whether she prefers the radio on or off, and Karolina feels a little bad that she’d underestimated Shiv’s capacity for genuineness.

When they get to her apartment, she pretends like she doesn’t want to change her mind and invite Shiv up.

—

Shiv starts texting her.

It beings with a checkup, asking her how she’s feeling and if Shiv can do anything for her, which, fine, fair enough, but then she starts texting more. Asking Karolina how her day’s going, sending her funny (in Shiv’s opinion) headlines about her brothers, asking for Karolina’s thoughts on her work, making suggestive passes that Karolina has to constantly dodge. She doesn’t notice at which point she gives into it, only realizing she’s gone too far when Shiv says she’s going to be back in town again for a few days and asks if they can go out to dinner. No, not asks. Insists.

Karolina, in all her stature and fortitude, can’t find it in her to say no.

Which has her rushing into a crowded restaurant after work on Friday night,

“No worries,” Shiv says. “I’ve been having fun trying to guess what kind of fire you could’ve been putting out so late on a Friday. I wrote down my best guess, wanna hear them?”

“Sure,” Karolina says, her voice letting Shiv know that this is an indulgence and not anything more.

Shiv laughs to herself as she pulls out the list, and Karolina finds it cute.

“Ready?” Shiv asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Karolina says.

“Karl and Frank have been outed as lovers?”

Karolina nearly chokes on her wine, “Karl wishes.”

“Dad purchased a sex shop chain.”

Karolina quirks an eyebrow, thinking Shiv sounds suspiciously hopeful about that one.

“That would be fun to explain to ATN viewers,” Karolina says. “But no.”

“Boring,” Shiv huffs. “Okay, next one. Roman gave out MDMA at his keynote?”

Karolina thinks her expression must actually be horrified, because Shiv immediately defends the guess.

“Don’t act like he wouldn’t do it,” Shiv says.

“I don’t even want to speak that into existence, Shiv,” Karolina says, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That would be the worst day of my life.”

“And it would be the best day of mine,” Shiv says, as if she’s waxing poetic. “Okay. Ready for the last one?”

“I’m not sure I am,” she says, eying the crowd in the restaurant. Their table is secluded enough, but it takes one person hearing Shiv Roy out of context and running to page 6 to create a media frenzy. “But go on.”

“Shiv Roy and Karolina Novotney seen on a date?”

Karolina tries her best to look unamused, though she thinks she’s failing miserably, because she can feel her lip twitch upwards just a fraction, and Shiv can’t be bothered to wipe a dramatically shit-eating grin off her face.

“Close,” Karolina says, teasingly.

“Oh really?” Shiv asks, looking smug as ever.

Karolina rolls her eyes, mostly playfully, but then her expression falters a bit when she thinks about the actual hold-up. “It was the last of the theme park settlement. We were stuck in litigation all day, but the parents ultimately agreed to the settlement.”

Shiv leans forward across the table, all hints of humor discarded.

“And?”

Karolina looks down.

“Airtight NDA,” she says.

Shiv makes a noise of disapproval.

“Silenced,” Shiv says.

Karolina shrugs, “It’s what your father wanted.”

At least, that’s what she tries to keep telling herself.

“My dad also wants four wives and to own the entire island of Manhattan,” Shiv says, taking a sip of her wine. “Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.”

Karolina can’t help her defenses rise.

“I’m not saying it’s right, Shiv,” she says. “I’m just saying it like it is.”

Shiv immediately looks sorry, and Karolina feels bad for snapping.

“Of course not,” Shiv says. “You’re just doing your job, I know.”

Karolina isn’t sure how to respond, worried that all she’s good for lately is just souring the mood, but Shiv seems intent on making it a good dinner.

“Hey, we’re due for a subject change, yeah?” Shiv says. “You grow up around here?”

“Pittsburg,” Karolina says. “I moved down here for college. Never left.”

“Really?” Shiv asks, intrigued. “What school?”

“Columbia,” Karolina says, and Shiv suddenly looks excited?

“I went to Barnard,” she says.

And Karolina can’t help but roll her eyes, because—

“Of course you did,” she says.

Shiv rolls her eyes in return, but then leans closer across the table, as if she needs to whisper.

“This kind of makes us sisters, doesn’t it?”

She wags her eyebrows and Karolina can’t help herself from falling to the bait.

“I hope not,” she says, and Shiv wastes no time going in.

“Oh, so you don’t want to be sisters?” she asks, feigning offense, then confusion. “I wonder why that is?”

Karolina pauses, knowing she has to tread lightly for the rest of this conversation.

“Shiv, I don’t think we should even go there.”

“Come on,” Shiv whines. “I can’t even make a joke?”

“Well, are you joking?”

Shiv seems to think, and then rests her chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Do you want me to be joking?”

Shiv sits there expectantly, waiting so patiently it’s almost defiant, and Karolina wills herself to just shut Shiv down.

“You are…” she trails off.

“Diabolical? Conniving? I’ve always been partial to cu—”

“Very pretty,” Karolina finishes.

Shiv pauses. She looks extremely satisfied, but not like she thinks she’s won yet.

“But?” Shiv asks.

“But,” Karolina draws out, “You’re my boss’s daughter.”

“Well, what, are you gonna send him a detailed report in the morning if we have sexual intercourse?” Shiv laughs. “He’s not gonna know.”

Karolina looks around, still concerned there could be prying ears or eyes, and she subconsciously toys with the silverware in front of her.

“I can’t assure that,” Karolina says, quirking an eyebrow at Shiv.

“If I want to keep my inheritance, you sure as shit can,” Shiv says. “Which I very much do.”

Karolina fully believes her on that front, but she’s still not sold on the idea. She likes Shiv, she really does, but…is this too far?

“Shiv, I really don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“I’m sorry, is there a clause somewhere in your contract that says it isn’t allowed?” Shiv asks. “You know my dad has been trying to pawn me off of the12th floor for years, right?”

Karolina eyes Shiv closely, looking for any hint of a set-up, or disingenuousness. She downs the rest of her wine, just as the waiter arrives with their meal.

“Buy my dinner and I’ll think about it.”

Shiv smirks.

“Deal.”

—

It’s not until they’re halfway undressed in Shiv’s bed, and Karolina’s hovering over her that Shiv says it.

“I have a boyfriend, by the way,” she says, hands paused around Karolina’s waist. “Do you care?”

Her immediate thought is yes, and this is wrong, and we shouldn’t be doing this, but she thinks through all of the truly awful shit she’s done recently and thinks that this won’t even take the cake. Fuck it.

“Do you?”

—

It doesn’t become a regular thing, but it’s about as regular as it can get when Shiv is constantly between DC and NYC. Karolina tries not to think about it too often. She keeps her head down and does her work, she dodges the usual comments and questions about her love life from male clients, she dodges Gerri’s questioning gaze when her answers seem less snarky and more serious than usual. So, maybe she isn’t keeping her head down, but it’s like, mid-level, for sure. And besides, does she have to entertain sleazy men all the time?

Shiv texts her more frequently, sending her something funny she thinks they’ll both enjoy or send something suggestive that she thinks Karolina will enjoy, which no, she doesn’t think it’s a crime for banning Shiv from trying to sext while she’s at work. That issue comes to a head when they’re on the jet traveling for a business meeting, and she can’t help but scrunch her face at Shiv texting, “Come on, everyone does it,” because, really, everyone?

“What is it?” Gerri says, at the same time Karl pipes up, “Bad news?” and she wonders how used they are to her being stoic as a fucking stone that the one time her expression shows any emotion, they think the company is on the verge of collapse. Though, she does fear for the health of the lot if they found out she’s fucking Shiv Roy while twenty-thousand feet up in the air.

“Nothing,” Karolina says, locking her phone. “I just read something.”

“Oh,” Karl muses sarcastically, “You just read something.”

He and Frank still look uneasy, but Gerri just looks suspicious. Karolina eyes her and Gerri pulls a face, as if to say, the fuck? and Karolina just makes a face back, as if to say, shut the fuck up, until she remembers that when a man is being annoying, she’s supposed to be snarky. That’s normal for her. Karolina Novotney makes fun of men and is definitely not fuck-buddies with Logan Roy’s daughter.

“I did,” she finally says. “Do you still remember how to read, Karl?”

His face freezes in the way that he knows he’s been bested, and Gerri and Frank just laugh at him until Logan shouts from the other end of the cabin and they all simmer down like a bunch of school children who have just been put in quiet time.

She resists picking up her phone for the rest of the flight.

—

Situations like that continue, Shiv pushing and pulling and Karolina trying her best to stay malleable. She’s having fun, she is, but she can’t stop thinking about Shiv’s boyfriend, how he’d feel if he found out. It’d be one thing if Karolina didn’t know, but the fact that she does and she’s still a willing participant—it doesn’t feel good. She lets it break her one night when Shiv is in town and they’re having one of their usual meets and she catches a glance at Shiv’s lock screen. He keeps texting her. Karolina does everything she can to not read his name, but she knows it’s him, especially since by the third ding she just flips the phone over.

“Shiv—wait,” Karolina says, lightly pushing Shiv off of her.

“What’s wrong?” Shiv immediately asks, eyes giving Karolina a once-over. She suddenly feels self-conscious in the bed, pants already gone and shirt almost entirely unbuttoned.

“Nothing,” Karolina says, almost as if on instinct, but then, “Not nothing, I’m just…I feel like this is…wrong.”

Karolina’s eyes quickly dart in the direction of the phone, and Shiv’s follow. Shiv sighs, and Karolina thinks if Shiv could pick any superpower in the world right now, she’d figure out how to explode common objects with her eyes.

“You’re worried about Nate?” Shiv asks, and Karolina wishes she didn’t just give him a name because it only makes this all a million times worse.

“It’s not really a nice thing to do to someone, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Fucking his girlfriend when I know he exists.”

Shiv scoffs, and Karolina braces herself for impact.

“You just successfully paid off a family suing Waystar for killing their kid and you’re worried about fucking over a guy you don’t even know?”

In Shiv’s defense, she does seem to regret the words as soon as they come out of her mouth, but the damage is already done once they do. Karolina tries to let them roll off of her, but a blatant reminder of the fact that she’s complete and utter shit doesn’t really help, especially when she hasn’t even finished beating herself up over it just yet. She gets out of the bed silently, not even able to look at Shiv (out of anger or shame, she’s not quite sure) and starts buttoning up her shirt.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Shiv says, following her out of bed. “That wasn’t fair of me—”

“I know I’m not a good person, Shiv…it’s not some, secret,” Karolina says. “I go to work, and I cover up bad behavior and I make awful people sound like saints and I do it with a smile on my face because I’m good at it, I am. But I don’t need that to follow me home.”

“That’s not—”

“If I can just have one piece of my life where I’m not a villain just for existing, that would keep me sane,” Karolina says. “So, no, I don’t want to be your fucking—homewrecker, Shiv. I don’t need to imagine the upset face of your boyfriend every time I close my eyes, and I certainly don’t need the excess guilt, because I promise you, I already have enough.”

Her chest heaves and she has to take a few deep breaths to stop herself from completely breaking down over the outburst. She makes a mental note to schedule someone to talk to, because really, this is getting out of hand, but it certainly doesn’t help when your fuck-buddy insinuates that you personally covered up a murder.

Shiv seems slightly frozen in place, and Karolina gets it, because how can this girl even think about other people as if they’re humans with feelings when it’s blatantly clear that nobody has ever extended that same care to her?

“Karolina, I—”

“It’s okay,” Karolina interrupts, “It’s okay, Shiv, I’m sorry, that was—”

Shiv nods along encouragingly with a type of patience that feels almost undeserved when Karolina is the one that keeps putting them both in this fucking tired savior dynamic, but she really feels like this moment might be her breaking point because she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep pretending that it doesn’t feel like she walked into that theme park and ripped out that child’s heart herself.

“Will you just…I mean can you—can you just hug me?” she feels stupid for asking, she feels stupid standing here in Shiv’s penthouse just being absolutely pathetic, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

“Okay,” Shiv says quietly, and although there’s a supportive lull to her voice, the hug is still hesitant.

It’s not until Karolina actually starts crying that Shiv seems to understand that Karolina just needs to be comforted, and Karolina can feel this realization when Shiv just holds her tighter and then brings them back to the bed. Shiv lets Karolina lay in her arms, and she plays with Karolina’s hair, and occasionally whispers something that Karolina’s too distracted to understand but likes the sound of anyway, and she wishes that Shiv thought more highly of herself as a person who can be there for others, because she’s doing a pretty good job at it.

Sometime later, when Karolina’s stopped and she thinks Shiv has fallen asleep, Shiv speaks up.

“I’m breaking up with Nate.”

Which, Karolina doesn’t necessarily believe because it would’ve made the night a lot better if it had been brought up sooner, and she also doesn’t want to believe it because what does it mean if Shiv’s out there breaking up with people just so they can continue to fool around?

“Shiv, I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum here,” Karolina says, voice tired. “And I don’t want you to lie to me, either.”

If Shiv takes offense to the accusation, she doesn’t let it show. She just sighs and plays with Karolina’s hair again, and turns off the bedside lamp illuminating the room.

“It was a dead-end relationship long before you came into the picture.”

For some reason, Karolina believes that.

—

Shiv didn’t lie to her.

Karolina’s not a stalker, but it is her job to keep tabs on people, so why not keep tabs on the one person who happens to be with the same person she’s…involved with? The tabs are showing that he has a new girlfriend. Some blonde off of Capitol Hill with a degree from Georgetown and a few low-profile successes. A downgrade from Shiv. Karolina feels another twinge of guilt still lingering from the situation, but she’s been dealing with it better, thanks to actually following through with speaking to someone.

She tries to remember phrases like healthy guilt and unhealthy guilt. The theme park payoff is a grey area, but at the end of the day, she was just doing her job. Being the messenger doesn’t make you the bad guy: unhealthy guilty.

Fucking a woman who told you she had a boyfriend, but recognizing you were doing something wrong and attempting to fix it, only for her to break his heart: unhealthy guilt.

She finds it works for her, being able to put things into boxes and categories. She can be more rational about it all that way.

“I’m glad it’s helping,” Shiv says, one night as they’re laying on the couch after dinner. She’d been back in town more frequently because she has a high-profile election coming up that’s going to keep her busy. She said she wanted to spend all the time with Karolina that she could get. They’ve had a rotation of movies on that neither of them is paying attention to, just enjoying one another’s company.

“Me too,” Karolina says, shifting her arms closer around Shiv. “Thank you, for being there.”

Shiv just shrugs, always nonchalant when it comes to accepting gratitude.

“Just promise to be there for me too when I’m going through my menopausal midlife crisis.”

Karolina can’t see her face, but she can certainly hear the smirk in Shiv’s words, and she just scoffs.

“Just remember who’s controlling the PR narrative when you do,” she replies, and Shiv laughs, then looks up.

“You know you’d make me look like an angel,” Shiv says, then mimicking Karolina’s voice, “Waystar Royco is aware of Shiv Roy’s recent behavior and the Roy family is taking all of the measures necessary to ensure she is receiving the proper care at this time—”

Karolina rolls her eyes.

“How am I doing?” Shiv asks. Her playfulness has been the biggest surprise in getting to know her.

“Sounds like someone reads all of my press releases.”

“Well, you know I’m your biggest fan,” Shiv says, smiling.

Karolina blushes, something she’s found herself doing more and more around Shiv recently.

“I think I’m going to put in for a promotion at the end of the year,” Karolina says. Shiv looks surprised, but she definitely doesn’t look worried, so that has to be a good sign, right?

“Oh?” Shiv says. “Feeling bossy?”

The one thing that hasn’t surprised her is Shiv’s ability to make an innuendo out of any situation. Karolina knows she must pull a face because Shiv’s immediately sitting up, giving Karolina her undivided attention.

“Come on, tell me about this promotion,” she says.

“My boss suggested to me that he might be leaving,” Karolina explains. Hugo from Cruises has also been eying the position for a while, but, I don’t know. I think I’m better.”

“Well, my dad certainly likes you,” Shiv says.

Karolina frowns.

“You think?”

“You’re like, the only person I’ve never seen him insult for longer than a sentence without giving up,” Shiv says. “I think he respects you.”

“As much as he can respect a woman,” Karolina says.

“Still more than some people get,” Shiv says.

Karolina nods, letting that thought sit.

“I think you’d do amazing,” Shiv says. “You’re already doing half the leg work. They’d fall apart without you.”

Shiv lays back down, settling into Karolina’s chest again.

“Thanks, Shiv.”

Shiv just squeezes Karolina’s hand and turns her attention back to the movie. They’re like that for a while, and Karolina’s just getting into the plot again when Shiv speaks.

“Do you think we could ever…” she pauses. “Be a real couple?”

The question sends a sharp pang through her stomach. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. She’d also be lying if she told Shiv yes.

“I think if you want your father in your life and I want to continue having a career…” she shakes her head, not wanting to finish the sentence. “I don’t know, Shiv. I don’t think so.”

“It could work out,” Shiv reasons. “Maybe he’d find the idea of lesbians hot.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Roman too much,” Karolina says, not wanting to even consider the idea of Logan finding her hot.

“I think that would hurt Roman’s feelings if he knew you’ve been saying that,” Shiv says.

“He’ll cope,” Karolina says, eyes following some train-based action sequence that’s on the television.

“I’m not being serious-serious,” Shiv says, continuing the main conversation. “I just…think about it sometimes.”

Karolina sighs. This conversation just makes her sad, because she genuinely believes that it would be a dramatic fall from grace for Shiv if they were to actually do it.

“Maybe if you found another billionaire-heiress your own age who wasn’t in a high-level position at his flagship company,” Karolina says. “Maybe he’d stomach it enough to not disown you.”

“He’s not that bad,” Shiv says, though it doesn’t sound like she necessarily believes herself, and Karolina hesitates on responding.

She likes to think Logan might not be that bad deep down, but she hears the things he says behind closed doors and cleans the messes he makes in front of open ones. She’s sure Shiv’s seen more and worse, though, so she won’t press it. It’s not for her to decide whether or not Shiv should believe there’s good in her father.

“What’s your dad like?” Shiv asks.

Karolina’s breath hitches slightly at the question, and she knows Shiv isn’t going to get the answer she wants. She briefly considers lying, like it’ll help them both somehow if there’s an imaginary good father between them, but it’s useless.

“He was a very sad man who liked to hit my mother,” Karolina admits.

Shiv’s hand twitches against Karolina’s torso. Karolina doesn’t really scream issues the way Shiv and her siblings do, but she thinks that maybe it’s different when your dad isn’t the founder of a multi-billion-dollar Fortune 500. Maybe there’s less pressure to stay. Karolina’s father never had to pretend to love her. He just pretended to not hate her.

“Did he ever hit you?” Shiv asks.

Karolina thinks it would be a more upsetting question coming from anyone else. Because it is, a prying and awful question that she feels sick just even thinking about, but she finds she feels comfortable with Shiv. Maybe it was that first night on the rooftop, or maybe even as far back as the gum in the bathroom, but Shiv has consistently shown up for her. Karolina trusts her.

“Once,” Karolina says. “Right before I went away to college.”

He was mad that she was leaving. Mad she figured it all out without him, mad that he wasn’t a better father. Sometimes, if she’s not paying attention it’ll creep up on her, the way he slammed her against the wall of their living room and the picture frames behind her just shattered to the floor. How she had to sleep on her side for the first two weeks of school because she’d had to get stitched on the back of her neck and she couldn’t lay down any other way. The way he’d slapped her and pointed his finger in her face and just yelled when she tried to fight back.

Shiv just nods, like this all makes perfect sense. Like this is just how fathers should be expected to behave.

“Sometimes I wish he would just finally hit me,” Shiv says. “Then it might be easier to hate him.”

Karolina just holds Shiv tighter, intertwining their hands together. Shiv rubs her thumb along the side of Karolina’s hand, and Karolina battles all the different words swirling around in her head.

“It wouldn’t be,” she eventually says.

—

Shiv goes back to DC to work with the client. She calls Karolina a lot, like when she’s commuting to work or waiting for the office’s lunch order. Karolina laughs at her because she thinks it’s funny imagining Shiv Roy picking up the group lunch order for an office, but Shiv seems extra keen on impressing this client. Shiv won’t talk about him with her, which she does find odd.

Past clients would have her sending diaries worth of complaints and personal details, but this one gets virtually nothing out of her. At first, she thinks maybe Shiv’s just being respectful. Turning a new leaf because it’s her biggest client so far and she doesn’t want to accidentally cause trouble. Karolina can respect that.

They’re making out in Karolina’s bed, finishing off a short trip Shiv made back home for the weekend, when there’s just one question she can’t shake.

“Why don’t you ever say his name?” Karolina asks.

Shiv pauses over her immediately, one hand still on Karolina’s waist and the other much lower. She looks thoughtful, but Karolina would be lying if she didn’t think there was a twinge of annoyance in Shiv’s response.

“I don’t want this to be a thing, Karolina.”

Karolina stiffens.

She can’t help it when a shocked, “Oh,” leaves her mouth. Shiv’s fucking him.

Shiv sighs and runs a hand over her face. She reaches over Karolina and turns the lamp on, excusing herself to the bathroom.

It’s not until Shiv’s walking away from Karolina that she sees a small littering of bruises on the backs of Shiv’s arms. They don’t look new, but they don’t look old either. She tries not to jump to the worst-case scenario, especially given the new information she’s just acquired, and she pushes it to the back of her mind. Shiv likes it rough. She would know.

When Shiv returns, she just crawls back into the bed, seemingly giving up on their previous position.

“Do you want to…?” Karolina’s at a loss, because there’s usually only one thing Shiv wants, and it’s hard to stop her once she’s gotten started, but Shiv just shakes her head and lays down in Karolina’s lap.

“Ca we just stay here?” she asks.

“Of course,” Karolina says, relaxing into the pillows behind her. She runs a hand lazily through Shiv’s hair and lets her fingers brush over the remnants of the bruising she can now see up close. “Whatever you want.”

She pretends not to notice as Shiv silently cries.

—

Their calls become less frequent. The campaign trail is picking up, of course, Karolina doesn’t live under a rock, so she knows it’s a busy time, but ever since that weekend she’s been sick with worry.

After work, she decides to call Shiv and ask her to cut the shit. She’s feeling good about it, until a man picks up.

“What?” His voice is angry and mean.

“Uh…I’m sorry, is Shiv there?”

The line is silent until she thinks she hears Shiv’s voice, distant in the background of the other end.

She hears a, just give me my fucking phone, and then a, is that her? and Karolina has to stop herself from shouting at this man into the line because she’s afraid she’s already put Shiv in enough danger just by trying to call her.

There’s some indistinguishable arguing until his voice is back on the line, “Don’t call this number again,” and then the call cuts out.

She doesn’t call again, because she’s not an idiot, but she does pace for a good fifteen minutes before deciding to send Shiv an email from her burner account. It was from when they first started hanging out, and Karolina was paranoid about everything. She thinks now that maybe they were right to be careful back then, if this is where it’s led them.

She doesn’t get a response for two sleepless nights and three horrifyingly long days, until her phone wakes her up in the middle of the night, Shiv’s contact illuminating the room. It knocks the sleep out of her immediately.

“Shiv?” she says, worriedly.

“Can I come to your apartment?” Shiv asks, getting right to the point. Karolina tries to listen for anything wrong in her voice, but if there is, she’s doing a good job at hiding it.

“Where are you?” Karolina asks, turning on her lamp.

“At the airport,” Shiv says. “There’s a car coming, I—I don’t want to be—Can I just come over?”

“Yes, of course,” Karolina says. “The doorman will let you in, okay? Just come up when you’re here.”

Karolina waits anxiously in her living room. She turns on the TV, but the sound of the trashy late-night laugh-tracks becomes too overwhelming and she turns it off, opting to sit in silence while she waits, trying not to let her mind wander too much. Maybe they just got into a fight. A normal fight. She lets that thought consume her until she hears her front door handle twist, and she rushes into the foyer.

She gives Shiv space, and Shiv doesn’t say anything as she removes her coat, and then her hat, and Karolina tries to inspect her movements from the angle she’s at, but Shiv still hasn’t turned to look at her and when she starts to fuss with something in her bag it feels like might be avoiding it altogether. Karolina can feel an awful dread settle in her stomach.

“Shiv, will you please look at me?”

She can see Shiv’s eyebrow furrow and her chest rise a little faster.

“I just need to find something,” Shiv says, kneeling down with the bag. She’s still off to the side, not letting Karolina get a good view apart from her profile.

“Can you please just let me see your face?” Silence. “Shiv—”

“What?” Shiv shouts, finally fully looking at Karolina. For a moment, Karolina wishes she could go back in time and not push Shiv to turn around so quickly, because she doesn’t think she was ready for the way it feels having Shiv stare her down with a bruised and bloody eye. It’s not the worst Karolina’s ever seen, but the contrasting purples and reds on Shiv’s pale skin make it look more alarming, not to mention the fact that it’s Shiv. Her Shiv.

Shiv stands and Karolina takes a tentative step forward, careful not to invade Shiv’s space, and she notices there’s also a gash above Shiv’s eyebrows. It doesn’t look fresh, which she can only assume means this happens a few days ago, which also narrows down the suspects in confirming her suspicion.

“How’d that happen?” she asks, anyway.

Shiv looks deeply uncomfortable, and Karolina’s heart breaks at how small she looks.

“My phone, it—it hit me, accidentally,” Shiv says.

“Your phone hit you, accidentally,” Karolina says, not buying it.

Shiv nods, looking away from her.

“And was it in someone else’s hand, accidentally?” Karolina asks.

Shiv pretends to think, and Karolina can tell she’s staving off tears.

“Um..no, I think it—it might’ve been in the air, yeah,” she sniffs. “Like, maybe someone threw it.”

“So, someone threw your phone, and it accidentally hit you,” Karolina clarifies.

“But it wasn’t supposed to,” Shiv says.

“What was it supposed to hit, Shiv?”

Shiv shrugs.

“The wall?” she says, as if that makes it any better.

Which, it doesn’t. Because Karolina doesn’t buy the story and Shiv knows she doesn’t buy the story, but that’s still the only story she’ll ever get, and Karolina accepts this about Shiv. That Karolina will tear her heart open wide and Shiv will only ever meet her a quarter of the way. That doesn’t matter though, not now, at least, because Shiv clearly needs all of Karolina, whether she can face admitting it or not.

She approaches Shiv slowly, testing the waters of contact until she reaches an arm around Shiv and the floodgates finally open, anything she’d been holding in the last few months just pouring out. Karolina thinks that not long ago, the roles were reversed, but somehow, she’s not optimistic that there’s a clear way out of this one, the strange debt that Shiv thinks she owes to the various men who worm their way into her life.

For now, she just hugs Shiv and pretends like it might all be okay.

—

Shiv asks to stay for the week.

On one of the nights, Karolina finds Shiv on the balcony after waking up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. She’s toying with a carton of cigarettes, a lit one in her hand, just simmering away as Shiv watches.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to use the first-hand smoke,” Karolina says, sitting down next to her. “Not the second.”

Shiv smiles, though it doesn’t nearly reach her eyes, and she taps the growing ash off of the cigarette before moving it towards Karolina, offering it to her. Karolina hesitates, thinking there are few things she could use more than a smoke right now, but decides not to take it. Shiv seems to remember then that they’ve spoken about this before.

“Sorry,” she says. “I forgot that you quit.”

“It’s okay,” Karolina says. “I’m a little grey about the rules sometimes.”

Shiv looks at her with an inquisitive gleam in her eye. That look usually means trouble, but tonight, it just feels pensive. Karolina hesitates again though, because she’s shared so much of her past with Shiv and she can’t remember the last time she let someone know this much about herself. She’s happy to share again though, if it means getting Shiv out of whatever headspace has her sitting out on a balcony at four in the morning.

“I was in a pretty serious relationship,” Karolina says. “We’d started talking about family planning, so…”

“Did you…?” Shiv’s voice drifts off, but Karolina can imagine the question.

“Get pregnant?” she finishes for Shiv, and Shiv nods. She shakes her head. “The first round didn’t take. Which isn’t uncommon, but…my partner, it gave her cold feet.”

“Was this recent?” Shiv asks, an edge of concern now coating her voice.

“No,” Karolina assures, grabbing Shiv’s empty hand in her own. “Almost ten years ago, now.”

The statement makes Karolina feel like a walking warning for Shiv. Like she better get her shit together now or she’ll end up a lonely workaholic with all those years of living and nothing material to show for it. Except Shiv doesn’t look alarmed, she just seems sad.

“Well, you’re a stronger person than me,” Shiv says. “I probably would’ve become the world’s most talented smoker after that.”

Karolina smiles sadly.

“I guess I’m good at letting things go.”

She doesn’t look at Shiv as she says it, but Shiv’s hand shifts in her own and she momentarily feels bad for saying it at all. She decides to change the topic, if only just a little bit.

“I didn’t know you smoked too,” she says. “I’ve never seen you do it.”

She feels Shiv tense up next to her.

“Oh, um…yeah, I don’t really,” Shiv says, stumbling through her answer. Karolina eyes the ashtray, noticing a couple of butts already in there, burned down to the brim, but she doesn’t think chain-smoking makes much sense for someone she’s never even seen bring a cigarette to their lips.

“You a secret pyro?” she asks, hoping to get even a small smile out of Shiv, but it doesn’t work.

“I don’t know what the fuck I am,” Shiv says, sighing. “Just, royally fucked up, maybe.”

Shiv lets go of Karolina’s hand and wraps her arm around her torso, her fingers stopping in a spot that makes Karolina go very still. She’s not sure how she didn’t put the pieces together sooner. She remembers seeing marred skin in that exact spot across Shiv’s hipbone. An inconsequential spot, the kind that nobody can ever get close enough to see unless they’re also receiving NDA and a lay in the pitch dark. It was faded then, and Karolina doesn’t think she would’ve noticed if they hadn’t screwed so many times, and when you’re paying attention to someone you like, you notice. The middle of an orgasm isn’t necessarily the time and place to ask about it though, so she never brought it up. It wasn’t her business anyway.

Right now, it feels a little bit like her business.

“Shiv…” Karolina says, sitting up. She’s sure Shiv can follow her eyes as they dart from the ash tray to Shiv’s hovering hand with the cigarette and clearly all over Shiv’s body as she looks for damage, and Shiv’s body tenses up in defense.

“No, it’s not—I haven’t done anything,” Shiv rushes out. It sounds like she’s trying to convince Karolina, but Karolina can only ever trust Shiv as far as her eye can see, and currently, she can’t see a lot.

“But you have?” Karolina asks.” Before?”

Because if Shiv can pry, then Karolina can pry too and she worries that she’s being too hard, being too mechanical, but this is scary and it’s right in front of her. Shiv looks away from her and taps more cigarette ash into the tray, the bulk of it almost burned out, as if it’s a timer that dictates when Shiv is going to stop entertaining this conversation.

“In college, I—” she cuts herself off. “I just needed something to make the pain different. Something I could see.”

Sometimes I wish he would finally just hit me.

Karolina’s breath hitches. Her gaze hovers over Shiv’s eye and Karolina wonders if she still thinks that.

“And what about right now?” Karolina asks.

Shiv cocks her head and her face twists in that way that Karolina knows she’s using everything in her to stay in a place of control.

“I just want to feel anything,” she says, in a low voice. A few silent tears finally escape her eyes, leaving tracks over the now lighter smothering of purple and yellow hues surrounding her eye. The bruise had gotten larger as it faded, trailing from her eye, to her hairline, and then slightly across her cheekbone.

Karolina shifts back next to her and coaxes Shiv into her arms, lightly taking the cigarette and putting the last of it out. If Shiv flinches at the crackle of the embers meeting the ashtray, Karolina doesn’t mention it.

Karolina knows that in the morning they won’t talk about this, that they’ll get out of bed and Shiv will say something dismissive like, “Last night was interesting, huh?” and Karolina will have to laugh it off, assure Shiv that Karolina still sees her as something formidable, like she’s not a little girl that the universe has tasked Karolina with fixing and that Karolina doesn’t hold all of the cards in their dynamic even though sometimes it feels like she actually does.

(She thinks deep down, that Shiv has to know. Every action they take, every step they’ve gone forward, has been due to Shiv’s brazenness, sure, but it’s all been contingent on Karolina saying yes. She has the power of veto, yet they both seem to ignore that until a reminder rips through their lives.)

She’ll make Shiv coffee, just the way Shiv likes it, and Shiv will spout off polling numbers for the man that Karolina is pretty sure she should find and publicly maim in the middle of Washington, and she’ll act happy. She’ll say, “That’s great, Shiv. Really, you’re doing a great job,” and Shiv will pretend she means it. It’s their dance.

Karolina thinks if she were a better person, she might not tolerate it.

—

Then, Shiv starts to slip from her. Not in noticeable ways, and not like before, but it’s noticeable to Karolina, and it feels like she’s being avoided. Like, their calls that had resumed frequency suddenly slow down again. When they do get a chance to talk it’s like Shiv is rushing through their conversations, itching to get on the line with someone else. When she asks what Shiv’s been up to, she just gets vague answers.

“Work. Sleep. Strategy meeting. Sleep. It’s all the same these days.”

Karolina tries not to care. Shiv was never hers, not really. She was an idea, a playmate. If she has to let her go, then whatever, she has to let her go, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.

The confirmation eventually comes from the last person she ever thought it would, because Logan of all people asks Karolina the most bizarre question when he calls her in early before a morning briefing.

“What do you think about that Tom guy?” he asks.

“Tom?” she asks, feigning ignorance. Because of course she knows Tom. He’s the biggest kiss-ass below the top floor, not to mention the rumors. Which Karolina thinks should’ve been enough for her to get a clue, but maybe she was being obtuse on purpose. Maybe she thought Shiv would have the decency to tell her this time.

“From the Resorts Division,” he says. “Any rumblings about him? Errant behavior?”

Karolina has half a mind to lie, to say that she’s heard whispers that he could be trouble, that he’s a little too eager to make it to the top—but if Shiv’s happy…then fine. If it can’t be her, then fine.

“Nothing I’m privy to, sir,” she says, sending him a curt smile.

Logan makes a noise of contentment.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” he asks. “Let me know if the image down there is…inadequate.”

“Of course,” Karolina says, taking her seat.

She thinks it’s kind of fucked up that she has to give a presentation right after this news, like finding out the girl you’re fucking has probably been lying to you and seeing someone else should qualify for at least a half-day off or something, especially if your boss is the one who told you and the girl is his daughter, because really, is she seriously not even worth a, by the way?

They have plans to see each other that night. She’s going over to Shiv’s place and they’re supposed to make dinner together and do whatever the fuck it is that they do these days. How to bring it up tortures her all day until she gets there, and all she can do is act cold. She knows silent treatment is juvenile and bordering on cruelty, but she can’t help it. She’s just so angry.

“Okay,” Shiv finally says, putting her utensils down. “What’s wrong?”

The question makes Karolina halt, but then she finishes chopping the tomato in front of her, not slowing down until it’s fully cut. She slides the diced vegetable off the cutting board and into a bowl, and then sets it all down, wiping her hands clean.

“How long?” she asks, looking to Shiv.

“What?” Shiv asks, expression immediately confused.

Karolina can’t help but to roll her eyes, and she can’t stop the accusatory tone from coming out as she speaks.

“You know what.”

Which only makes Shiv angry, because if any of the Roys have a short fuse, it’s her.

“I’m not a fuckin’ mind reader, Kay,” she says.

Karolina can’t stop it as a sarcastic laugh escapes her, and she crosses her arms, still somehow in disbelief that Shiv won’t just fucking tell her.

“I seriously had to find out from Logan,” she says, almost to herself, and she turns away from Shiv.

“Yeah, still not getting whatever telepathic link you suddenly think we have,” Shiv says.

Karolina turns back around, almost willing Shiv to take the opportunity that Karolina’s giving her, to just tell her straight up so that Karolina can still pretend that Shiv cares about her the way she cares about Shiv. But Shiv doesn’t bite. It’s like Shiv can see Karolina at her worst but the one time the cards finally flipped she couldn’t take it. Shiv Roy would rather ruin it all than let Karolina be a witness to her vulnerability.

“Tom?” Karolina says, Shiv’s face finally dropping in recognition. “Does that name ring any bells?”

Shiv crosses her arms. If Karolina is going to give her a second chance to fix it, this would be the moment.

“Uh—No, I—that doesn’t sound..” Shiv clears her throat. “Doesn’t sound familiar, no.”

Karolina clearly hoped for too much.

“No?” she says. “Okay.”

She walks away from the kitchen, and starts going around the apartment, picking up various things she knows belong to her. She hadn’t realized how much their lives were intertwined at this point, and she wonders if that’s why it hurts so much. She spent so much time letting Shiv in, sharing parts of herself that nobody gets the privilege of these days and Shiv just couldn’t handle doing it back. She reminds herself that they could never be anything more than what they were, that it was always a dead end, but maybe she’d tricked herself. Let herself think briefly that they could make it work in their own, private and fucked up way.

“What are you doing?” Shiv asks, following her trail.

“I’m going home,” Karolina says, shoving her work files into her bag. “I’m going to run a bath, and I’m going to drink my wine, and I’m going to pretend you didn’t just lie straight to my fucking face.”

Shiv’s expression hardens, and she runs a hand across her face as if Karolina’s just told her something trivial that’s simply inconveniencing her day.

“Come on,” she says. “What do you want me to say?”

Karolina lets out a hostile huff of air, turning quickly from her bag to face Shiv.

“What do I want you to say?” she repeats. “How about, hey, Karolina, remember how you told me you weren’t comfortable seeing me if I was in a relationship? Well, this just in, I’ve actually been in one, so, get fucked I guess!”

She stalks away, heading for the door.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Shiv says, quickly following her.

Karolina stops in her tracks abruptly and turns around, Shiv nearly running into her as she does so. One more chance.

“How long?” she asks.

“Queen of lies and manipulation wants to sit on moral high ground now,” Shiv says, a new bite in her voice. “Were Nate and TK not fully deserving of your mercy?”

Which is a low blow, because they’d talked about this. Karolina had almost let the guilt from Nate blow up her life and now Shiv’s weaponizing it against her. But if Shiv wants to go low, Karolina can go low.

“You’re admitting those were real relationships now?” Karolina asks. “I thought they were just placeholders for when you couldn’t find someone willing to hug you at night.”

Shiv laughs sharply, shaking her head.

“That’s real rich coming from you,” Shiv says. “At least I have people. Don’t you get lonely waiting for your young piece of ass to come visit you in secret once every two months? Might wanna get serious about love, babe. The clock’s ticking.”

Karolina’s face twists, and there are strings and strings of insults and blows she’d like to deal Shiv right now, but one simple word just takes hold.

“You’re rotten, Shiv.”

It’s at that moment that Shiv seems to realize the gravity of her actions, because she was right, Karolina is the queen of being a fucking bitch, and if she’s backing down from a fight, then you’ve probably gone too far. Shiv’s chest rises and falls in a small huff and she runs her hand through her hair, looking frustrated.

“I’m sorry,” she says, though it sounds forced and somehow, Karolina’s not quite buying that she means it.

“How long, Shiv?” she asks, even though she thinks the chances are over. She just needs to know. “I’m not asking again.”

Shiv’s body stiffens and she averts her eyes, the classic Siobhan Roy tell that Karolina is never going to get what she wants.

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “A month? Two? Maybe, less—I, I don’t know, Karolina. I’m not keeping score of how many dates I’ve been on recently.”

“Jesus,” Karolina says to herself, not wanting to believe that Shiv had been lying to her for this long.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” Shiv says, which makes Karolina snap, because Shiv does know. They’ve had endless conversations why it’s such a big deal and Shiv still chose to disrespect her. “Tom’s not even—”

“It’s not fucking about Tom, Shiv!” Karolina finally bursts. “It’s about you. Did you just think all this time we’ve been hanging out without fucking was just fucked up domestic foreplay? You’re my friend, and you lied to me. About something I really tried to trust you with.”

She thinks Shiv looks regretful, she thinks Shiv looks a little bit ashamed, and she also thinks Shiv looks sorry, but Karolina knows that she isn’t going to back down. Shiv is going to dig her heel in and make it worse because what else should she expect from a Roy who’s been backed into a corner?

“He’s never gonna know, Karolina,” Shiv argues, and Karolina can’t believe that months later they’re still having this conversation.

“But I’ll know,” Karolina says. “I’m going to have to go into work and see his fucking face every day, and the only thing I’ll be able to think about is how I’m fucking his girlfriend. Do you even care how that makes me feel?”

“I don’t see why it has to make you feel like anything,” Shiv says. “He doesn’t matter to you.”

It’s in that moment Karolina truly accepts that Shiv isn’t going to let her go. Can’t let her go. She feels like she walked into this, like from that first mischievous smile in the coffee shop she should’ve known that this would ultimately crash and burn. She sniffs, and realizes she’s crying. As she brushes away a tear, she sees the way Shiv jerks on instinct, like she knows there’s something catastrophically wrong with being the reason for Karolina to cry. Karolina just takes a calming breath.

“Shiv, I think we need to be done here.”

Shiv’s expression immediately falls, any anger and understanding immediately overcome with shock.

“You don’t mean that,” Shiv says, and if Karolina didn’t know any better, she’d think Shiv was about to start crying too.

“I do mean that,” Karolina says. “I don’t want to mean it, but I do.”

Shiv turns away from her for a second as if the mere sight of Karolina is suddenly too much, and Karolina gets it because looking at Shiv right now, it’s taking everything in her not to just fall to Shiv’s feet and take everything that she’s said back. It kind of feels like their worlds are falling apart, and in some sense, Karolina thinks they are.

“This couldn’t go on forever, right?” Karolina says, a sad resignation in her tone.

But Shiv grows slightly angry again, because Karolina knows this isn’t the outcome that she wanted, and Shiv certainly gets everything she wants. Karolina thinks that’s just what she tells herself.

“You’re making a mistake,” Shiv says, coldly.

“I’m making a choice that you don’t have the guts to make,” Karolina says.

If she were a better person, she would hug Shiv, one last time. If she were less selfish, she’d drop the act and she’d pour her heart out one last time, assure Shiv that things will be okay and one day they’ll move on from this, but she doesn’t. Instead, she picks up her bag, and those are the words Karolina leaves her with. She briefly wonders if she’s not so different from Shiv. If she also took the cowardly way out because leaving Shiv crying in her doorway was easier than begging Shiv to just be with her for real; but she’s not a better person, and she likes being selfish because it’s always been practical. Shiv Roy would’ve destroyed her, if she weren’t. Karolina almost let her.

So she goes home, and cries for a day, busying herself with emails and press inquiries and she lets it sink in all that she’s losing, all that she’s lost. She eventually finds the last of Shiv’s things, a sweater here and a book there, and ships them off, and has to move on. Pretend like none of it ever happened.

“You’ve been keeping an eye on Tom?” Logan asks one day, late into the next week. The thought of him still makes her hands curl in an undetectable fit of jealousy.

“He’s on vacation currently,” Karolina says. “There are rumblings that he went off to Paris.”

There are also rumblings that Siobhan Roy was spotted in Paris with a mystery man. Karolina swallows the anger of knowing he won, and she thinks it’s stupid, because he didn’t even know there was competition.

Logan seems pleased with the update, and she’s sure he’s seen the tabloids anyway.

“Very well,” he says.

When she goes to leave, he beckons her back.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I heard you put your hat in the ring to step up,” he says, shuffling papers on his desk. He pauses, and then looks up at her.

“I did, I…thought it might be time,” she says, arms wrapped tightly around her binder.

He eyes her and she holds her breath, thinking it’s funny how one man has seemingly held the key to everything in her life recently. She thinks she should hate him, then she remembers how Shiv can’t.

“We should have a talk about what that would mean for you,” Logan finally says. “Block out an appointment with Joan.”

She bites down the excitement in favor of keeping her exterior calm, simply nodding her head.

“Okay, I will,” she says. “Thank you, Logan.”

He returns to his work, not bothering to say you’re welcome, and Karolina takes that as her cue to exit the office. She unlocks her phone, not even realizing where her fingers are heading until she’s already there, hovering over Shiv’s contact. Her heart swells and her step falters for a moment. She hesitates, wanting so badly to just give in and press it. She knows she shouldn’t. She takes a deep breath, and then locks her phone.

Maybe not a better person, but at the very least, better off.

#succession #shivlina #shiv x karolina #shivlina fic #succession fic #shiv roy #karolina novotney #mine #wow #ok #duskfalls

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goblinsofdiscord · 6 months ago

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Enneagram 7w6: The Tinfoil Brat 👽😈🧚‍♀️

by Larissa

Nicknames I think fit this type: Tinfoil Brat, Party Goblin, Cheeto Gremlin, Attention Deficit Marauder, Little Rascal, Miss Demeanor, Disco Inferno, Constant Craving, Loveable Lunatic, Rabbithole Raver, Provocative Pollinator, Pixie Grifter, Trashbag Trickster, Enfant Terrible, The ‘Suck It and See’.

7w6’s scuttle, dart, flit and operate in an often spasmodic fashion. They’re constantly seeking shortcuts and novel ways of experiencing reality. You’ll know them by the signature trail of chaos they sow. They’re the “too much” or “a lot” friend; sometimes annoying in their fervor, impatient and scattered little imps. Tricksters at heart, they’re naively obscene and often artless in their communication style, grinning while they deliver an insult. But it’s ok, because they’re more interesting than you (by their own assertion). At their best, 7’s are generous and inspiring. While they may throw themselves pity parties, they’ll make sure there’s still spiked punch, Cheetos, a great playlist and sexual (sometimes grotesquely so) innuendo abound.

7w6’s share a core type with 7w8, but the 7w8 is more of a Bulldozer Barbie, Bellicose Bella, a Girl Gone Wild. Where the 7w6 is a chattering chipmunk, the 7w8 is a rhino with fake tits and they give zero fucks that you can see their areola poking out of their too-tight shirt.

7 is a “head type” and with a 6 wing it makes for a double “head type”; a pinball machine that never tires unless you start telling them a long-winded story about your poorly-healthed grandmother or the irksome details of your home renovation. 7’s underdo fear by escaping and avoiding it or anything that harshes their vibe. 7’s are one of the more solipsistic types, however, with a 6 wing (instead of an assertive, confident and grandiose 8 wing) it also has a dose of anxiety, paranoia and hypervigilance. They're aware that they're annoying and that fear isn’t truly escapable. Their 6-ish traits can be exacerbated by walls closing in on them or external forces trying to control or oppress them. Or if they’ve given in to reckless excess they might become terrorized by the consequences catching up to them. They can spiral into worst case scenarios and become reactive and hostile toward anyone who seems like a threat to their freedom, agency or fantasies.

However, unlike the 6, 7’s rarely like to view themselves as victims, even when they are. They can apply their "possibilities" orientation to catastrophic thinking and dot-connecting, which can result in excessive catastrophizing, prophetic visions or a volatile combination of both.

As a head type and a “gluttony” type, 7’s love pulling from many different places and sources, obsessively consuming whatever they’re interested in. Even though they have their own ideas about the world, they love learning, and you might find a lot of geeky 7w6’s in the wild. They’ve often taken a multitude of classes and workshops. Their 6 wing can cause them to check in with “the experts”, but they basically just want a direct hookup to the dealer. They want your mental drugs, and they want them now. Of course, they’ll skidaddle when they’ve butt-chugged enough to create their own thing - however half-baked, ill-conceived or premature it may be.

7’s aggressively extract nectar from anything they find intriguing; voraciously suckling on the tit of life like a ravenous piglet. This can manifest via their interests, or whatever libidinous pursuit they might be engaged in. Once they get sick of the flavor, or the tit starts to wither, they move on to find a new one. Or, perhaps they suck so intently and relentlessly that they end up caving in their own skull; and find themselves obese and putrescent, breathless in a pile of excess and excrement.

7 is a "frustration" type; nothing is ever quite right. They get horny off idealizing what could be, and wilt under what is. The grass is always greener on the other side. FOMO is their middle name. Their thirst for what could be is often a propulsive force, and can be the only thing that motivates them when life is mundane. They get what they want, but it doesn’t satisfy them for long. In the back of their mind, their escape plan begins unfolding, schemes begin hatching and selfish rationalizations appear as if delivered by the divine hand of God. At their worst, the 7 can enter a state of deranged, ideopraxist mania and set themselves aflame. A juggler with so many balls, they will inevitably drop all of them and be left looking like a fool. Lather, rinse, repeat, and any hope the 7 had of finding stability or sustainable gratification goes down the drain along with the pubic hair and cheap body wash of a life they’ve constructed out of endless dissatisfaction.

7 is an "assertive" type. This can make them entitled and brazen about what they want. Their motto is “Gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme gimme more…” *Britney hair flip* But because of the wing 6, 7w6’s can be aware of what they “should” do or what society expects from them (especially if a Social type) and it can keep their brattiest impulses vaguely more reigned in than a 7w8 (who is double assertive). They might go for what they want, but feel bad or belatedly apologize if it has ramifications. They might also experience paralyzing apprehension, self-doubt and overwhelm when their own incompetence (or fear of it) catches up with them. However, at the end of the day, the 7w6 will end up doing what the 7w6 wants to do, which is a big distinction between 7w6 and 6w7. The 7w6 might see the “should” in front of them on the pavement, and may stare at it a while, but ultimately the 7 will squish it under their neon yellow high-top and skip away.

7 is a “positive” type, which mostly means they reframe negatives into positives. They experience “magical thinking”, especially with a 9 fix in the mix. They attempt to avoid boredom, pain, annoyance, and negativity on autopilot. It doesn’t mean that they won’t be negative or experience sorrow, as a 7w6 they have a reactive “negative” wing (doubly so, if they have a 4 and/or 8 fix). They can dwell, sob, be too depressed to peel themselves off their fluid-stained bed sheets. However, they might not really be here for *your* negativity. They’ll likely want to reframe or resolve your problem and move on with their day, instead of handing you tissue after tissue while you tell them your sob story for the thousandth time. They want to rip the Band-Aid off and find the silver lining, yesterday. A 7 who has worked on themselves and is conscious of their patterns is better at holding space for others, but sure enough the frustrated feeling of being held hostage will creep upon them, and you will notice their spirit leave the room as you continue to ramble on and on about your dire situation that you’ve already told them A DOZEN FUCKING TIMES BEFORE and they have already repeatedly told you how to fix… GOOD GOD, IF YOU EXPECT ME TO LISTEN TO THIS NOTHING-SAUCE THEN PAY ME, YOU DAFFY BITCH!!!… Moving on.

As an assertive-“positive” type, they offer solutions, which may not seem realistic or viable to some. The 7 believes that anything is surmountable, given their blessed “magical thinking” abilities. If you can’t get with their visionary suggestions, you’ll likely morph into their hapless, weepy acquaintance that they put on the shelf next to the discarded, moldy books they discovered on the side of the road when they were drunk, and the drab religious figurines their aunt gives them each Christmas. You’ll collect dust only to be brought out to play with when they’ve exhausted other options.

This “positive” thinking ability also means that if something really fucked up happens to them, they’ll usually recover. Even if they hole up for a while to lick their wounds, or spiral into their 6 wing, they’ll eventually find the benefit of the tragedy. You fucked their boyfriend, but you’re also their mom? That’s ok, they’ll turn it into their Jerry Springer debut, and they’ll look hotter than you on television. You banned them from a social group? They’ll create their own group and it will be even funner and more interesting than yours. Or, if they’re more evolved, they’ll just move on as if you never existed. You cannot defeat a 7, because they’ll find a way to bend reality to make anything work for them. The only person who can defeat a 7 is themselves.

Because 7w6’s are a double head type with a line to another head type (5), they can often feel like they don’t know enough. In fact, they can feel spectacularly stupid. A core 6 will make sure they understand the rules, know what the experts think, what the group thinks (or the group they simp) as a way to fend off the worries of being a dumbass. A 5 will become a quietly arrogant expert as the “competency” head type, and over-learn into total abstraction. When a 7 feels a bit ‘tarded, it can fuel their internal gluttony and they might immediately move into “doing” something about it, without thinking it through. They might buy a ton of books (and not read them), or sign up for a bunch of classes (but not show up for half of them). It can also cause them to retreat into their line to 5 (obsessively studying) or access their 6 wing (seeking out expert opinions), or just flee the experience entirely by brushing it off with a joke, or switching lanes to chase another pursuit or distraction. YOLO.

7’s can unravel into unhealthy levels when they feel suffocated, trapped, stifled or as if their prospects have been cut off. This can happen when there are too many responsibilities being piled on them, or when they feel as if under perpetual house arrest because of their circumstances (the wife, kids, job, weather, too many obligations, inadequate options in their dominant instinct). They’re not usually nine-to-five, rise’n’grind types and the workforce tedium can bring out the self-destructive urge to escape existence via drugs, booze, sex, distractions and stirring up chaos. 7’s, especially with an additional frustration fix (1 or 4), can devolve into a state of despair and decadence by being forced to be part of the proletariat. They might abscond responsibilities or lash out at people for taking up their time or energy; becoming almost hysterical about their boundaries and me-time.

7’s are also often the “party animal” or flamboyant type; flitting from scene to scene, rarely establishing anything truly meaningful outside of a select few connections. If you wound or disappoint them they might lob you off, as they have many other tantalizing social options to choose from. They have a live and let live attitude, and usually don't care all that much if people disagree with their opinions or beliefs, unlike the core 6. Often 7’s gravitate toward other 7’s or 7-fixers, as there’s a shared understanding that they can maintain the friendship without constantly checking in or seeing each other every week, which can be difficult for other types to fathom.

Known as a “selfish type” 7’s can be seen as narcissistic, especially from the view of a superego (1, 2, 6) or attachment (3, 6, 9) type, because they’re living life on their own terms and not abiding by the Matrix commandments or limiting beliefs. Life is to be enjoyed, experienced, ravaged, fucked from behind. Rules are for losers. 7’s aren’t limited by your mortal belief systems and structures, *insert evil laugh.* The 7 doesn’t care what you do, so long as you don’t get in the way of what they’re doing or want. If you get in the way of a 7’s passion or enjoyment, watch out.

7’s, maybe more than any other type, enjoy playing pranks and messing with people. Depending on their wing, instinctual stacking and fixes, you’ll find yourself with a devious pixie who likes to stir things up for their own amusement, a chaotic neutral character, or a gleeful demon who exacts revenge in the most amoral of ways. They like having a stockpile of wild stories to whip out like a party trick, self-indulgently musing at their collection of peccadillos and antics.

Because 7 has a line to 5 (the other head type), it makes the 7w6 one of the most “heady” of the types. Having a “line” to another type means it has access to aspects or behaviors of that type as a means to evolve or devolve. When 7 goes “line to 5” they can burrow into an interest and withdraw in order to feed their head. It can make them more introspective, focused on absorbing and fully comprehending details, refining, synthesizing and whittling versus their usual expansive, superficial gathering of information approach. It can also make them go into hermit-mode, becoming unusually abstemious, avoiding people and evading responsibilities in service of whatever their interest is because life “out there” just isn’t doing it for them. They’ll avoid the soirees and meet-ups because they’re disappointed and would rather get their juice from books or Reddit, or create something all night in their bedroom. When healthy, a 7 can apply all of this to mastering a skill or seeing through the actualization phase of an obsession. However, 7’s may go 5 mode when they’ve exhausted themselves escaping, running and devouring. They have nothing left to give or take, and they must finally rest. This can be a terrifying experience to the 7 if they have unprocessed trauma, upsetting emotions or life things they’ve been avoiding. The enormity of it can crash down on the 7, hurtling them into horror and overwhelm. This experience can make them depressed, distressed, double-down on escapist behaviors, or God willing, they introspect and look for healthy ways to integrate and process.

When 7’s access their line to 1 (a frustration-competency type) when unhealthy, they can transform into unholy terrors, imperious and cavalier. They mutate from being easy going to perfectionistic and hyper-critical of themselves and others. Especially with a wing 6 and a line to 1, the 7 can be uncharacteristically Kareny. They can become controlling of others in their life and preachy about how to live when their circumstances are not mirroring the reality they desire: one that feels elastic, lively and fascinating. They might cut people from their lives for not living up to their standards (as wavy-gravy or new those standards may be), or clean up the mess in their lives by abstaining from alcohol, drugs, sex, gambling or whatever else they typically overdo.

When they are accessing both of their competency lines, and actualizing their interests, hobbies or theories instead of just shouting their latest madcap ideas at strangers, they can go into a hyper-disciplined state. This can cause them to proceed in an austere and controlled manner; cutting away the fat in their life (people, other interests, obligations) in order to bring their vision into reality. Their relationships, belongings or multitude of interests may begin to feel like prison bars, and they’ll have to go. Because it’s difficult to balance repressed hedonistic impulses with responsibility, eventually the 7 will wear themselves out in this mode. The sensation of being stifled ferments, and they may succumb to the urge to abandon this new lifestyle, in favor of reinventing themselves or discovering unfamiliar, delicious vittles. Of course, the idea is that we use our lines to integrate and balance ourselves, but for the 7 it may take many tangos before they find a rhythm they can dance to. If they find a renewable source of energy in one direction, balance fun with consistency, they can harness their demiurgical life force and make grand things materialize.

A main life pattern with 7’s is that they’re always trying to outrun the Devil. If they don’t face whatever it is they’re running from, the ubiquitous monster at their heels will become bigger and faster as the 7 gets slower and weaker. Often, The Universe will throw a monkey wrench in their bike spokes to force them to stop and reflect, as injury and ruin is often the only way to force a 7 to look inward and emotionally heal. If they refuse, and keep pushing and squirming and escaping, it will become increasingly difficult as they get older to overcome these patterns. They’ll run out of road, options and ways out.

The film “Red Rocket” (2021) by Sean Baker is a great example of this life path. “The Little Mermaid” (1989) is also a good example of the “grass is greener” mentality of the idealistic 7w6 who goes through Hell to get what they desire, only to find out it’s nothing like what they dreamed; it didn’t solve all of their problems and now they’re totally fucked.

7’s can seem horrifically impetuous and self-absorbed to other types. However, because their type structure is centered around possibilities, expansiveness, movement and lack of rules or restrictions, they also make for great cheerleaders. If you have a big dream, you’re better off floating it to your 7 buddy who will join you in the fantasy, cheer you on, make you believe in the power of you, and spitball solutions. When they’re happy and have the means, they’re also keenly generous with their resources, time and energy. When they have slowed down and genuinely allowed for gratitude and internal abundance, and allow themselves to experience discomfort, they can unlock true joy and satisfaction. Maybe more than any other type, they’re the ones most likely to want to see you thrive, without a hidden agenda. They love it when you follow your outlandish passion and dream the undreamable. Fuck the rules, Cindy! You are a rockstar!!!! Fuck the haters, Gary! Eat as many goddamn hotdogs as you want, Marsha! Yassss Queen! When 7’s put their powers of provocation to good use, they can inspire others, catalyze massive change in their loved ones, and lift the world with them on their seemingly nonsensical quest. They crack open the door to what is possible for all, and give permission to other types to unabashedly follow their aspirations and unconditionally love themselves, warts and all.

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Social-Dominant 7w6’s often like to build social groups around their interests, and as they can have multiple interests, they can have multiple groups to flit between. Each group can serve its own purpose (“these are the friends I talk about Enneagram with, these are the friends I party with, these are my horror movie friends”, etc). They can seem like social butterflies - noncommittal, selfish and scattered. They can be aware of the social impact they might have, if only they narrow or combine what captures their attention into something cohesive and meaningful. What really juices them up is being able to find their special groups where they can push into, learn and expand on ideas, concepts, experiences, interests and build something exhilarating together. If they’re not getting that from you, you might not have a place at the table for too long. They’ll encourage you on your own quest, though, as they usher you out the door.

Self-Preservation-Dominant 7w6’s are less focused on curating their social circles around their activities but will still want things to be engaging. This might manifest in a strange assortment of pets, physical pursuits or objects, eating or creating weird food, doing bizarre things with their body or aesthetic. They might be the most responsible of the three instincts, and the most able to actualize their efforts in the physical world. However, Self-Preservation 7’s can indulge in overspending, buying useless shit, eating out or travelling alot, partying nonstop, fucking nonstop, daredevil activities and sometimes pushing the limits physically because what even is reality? What even is this body? More, more, more! Adreeennnaaaaaaaalliiiiinnnnnnnnne!!!!

Sexual-Dominant 7w6’s want fleeting, intense, devouring, pleasurable experiences - and if you don’t profusely sparkle or pique their interest, move along. They can also attract a lot of attention in their presentation - through dress, adornments and displays. They’ll draw people in like a mystical belly-dancer, mesmerizing their audience - but as soon as they lose interest, bye, bye! They’re perhaps the most hedonistic and provocative of the three instincts, and unless you’re able to continuously feed them juice and captivation, you’ll be left with nothing but the memories of the Sexual 7 to arouse and torment you forever. What never could have been… *sigh.*

Examples of 7w6’s: Joe Rogan, Tim Dillon, Theo Von, Parker Posey, Florence Welch, Danny Elfman, Sia, RuPaul, Miley Cyrus

7: Frustration, Positive, Assertive, Head

6: Attachment, Reactive, Superego, Head

Line to 5: Rejection, Competency, Withdrawn, Head

Line to 1: Frustration, Competency, Superego, Gut

Find out more about Enneagram Type 7 on the Goblins of Discord Youtube or get typed by Larissa

#enneagram 7 #7w6 #enneagram 7w6 #enneagram #enneagram types #personality types

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