#it hasn’t for a while but we’ve been trying so hard but nothing seems to work anymore

[songtwo]

thinking maybe it’s time to break up. but the sole thought of it hurts so so bad

[twice-inamillion]

The Company 

Double Life

Fluff and Angst (Dark theme)

Chapter 12

1735 Words 

(Company OC lives his everyday life, taking care of his business and ensuring everything runs smoothly. He has a soft spot for Mina, being his first recruit as the CEO. He also cares for trainees like Nayeon, who are as important as anyone else. Running a business is hard work, and sometimes you must get your hands dirty to ensure everything runs smoothly.)

After arriving from San Francisco, you went straight to work. Setting up an acting division within the company seemed easy, but recruiting talent was the most important part.

Luckily, the company executives took care of recruiting personnel and coaches while your main focus was on selecting actresses. 

While you look at some actress profiles, you get briefed on what you missed last week. IU mentions that rumors about the acting division have been circulating since someone, a well-known actress, visited the company. Officially, nothing hasn’t been confirmed, but you knew this was bound to happen. 

“We’ve been receiving many inquiries from trainees, asking if they can audition for a position in the new acting division.”

”Damn, what do you think? Should we open the recruitment to the trainees?”

”That’s up to you, sir. You mentioned you want to get some well-known actresses first, so maybe you should focus on that.”

”You’re right. Once we’re settled, we can think about expanding it to the rest.”

Also, while you were away, the trainee, Mina, stopped by. She mentioned that she wanted to see you.”

”Oh, okay. I’ll get in contact with her. Thanks Ji-eun.”

——

There is a knock at your door, and you see a silhouette, “It’s me, Mina.”

”Come in.”

Mina slowly opens the door and walks inside, “Good morning.”

”Good morning, Mina, how are you?”

”I’m okay. I didn’t know that you left abroad.”

”Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you. Did you need something?”

”No, I just haven’t seen you, so I came to stop by.” 

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Come and sit down.”

Mina takes a seat on the couch and stares at you. 

“How’s it going with your training?”

”It’s going well. I still have a hard time talking to all the girls, but I’ve gotten close to Momo and Sana.”

”That’s great. It's nice to see that you have someone to talk to.”

”They speak Japanese, so it’s easier for me. I just wish I didn’t get nervous.”

Don’t worry about it. People are naturally going to come to you based on your personality. You’re a really sweet girl.”

Mina’s ears get a bit red, and you find it kind of cute. You can’t help but see her as a younger sister, someone to protect.

”Oh, by the way, your parents sent you a package,” you say as you stand up and get the box that is on the other side of the room. 

“Oh, what is it?”

”All they told me was that you had to open it before it goes bad.”

Mina picks up the box and places it on the table. You hand her an envelope cutter and opens the box, “Aww, they sent me my favorite snacks.” She grabs one of the snacks and hands it to you, “Here, try it.” 

You try the bag of Skittles she gave you and share some with her. You can’t help but smile as you see her show her gummy smile. “Do I have something on my face?”

”No, it’s just that it’s nice to see you so happy.”

Mina’s ears turn red from your comment, “It’s just that these are my favorite, plus my parents sent them, so it makes it more special.”

”You’re right. Let's send something to them as well; what do you think?”

”Really?”

”Yeah. You don’t want to?”

”No, I do.”

”What do you want to send?”

”Umm, maybe some bread?”

”That sounds nice. Do you have an idea of where we should buy it?”

”Umm, there is a bakery that they used to take me to when I was little.”

”That’s nice. Let’s put in an order and have it delivered to them.”

”Are you really going to do it?”

”Yeah.”

Mina goes towards you and gives you a hug, “Thank you so much, Oppa.” It only takes a few minutes for her to realize what she did, and she steps back, face completely blushed, “I’m sorry, I just reacted without thinking.” 

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.” 

The two of you end up talking a bit more before Irene interrupts you two, “Sorry, I didn't know you had someone with you, sir; I’ll come back.”

”It’s okay, I was leaving anyway. Thanks, Oppa.” Mina waves goodbye and exits your office, leaving you and Irene to discuss important matters. 

———

You finish your evening run and go to the nearby cafe by the company building. Coming out of the cafe, you see one of the trainees standing in front of one of the gates that lead to the campus buildings. From afar, you can see they are pacing back and forth like they are waiting for something. You see a person cross the street and walk towards the trainee and wonder what’s going on. 

They seem to be talking to each other when you see the person, who seems to be an older man, grabs the trainee by the arm. The trainee struggles and tries to let go and yells, “Let me go!”

You exit the cafe and walk towards the street, trying to get an idea of what’s going on. As you walk closer, you see Im Nayeon, one of the transfer trainees from JYP. “She said to let her go” as you grab the man’s arm.

”This has nothing to do with you, so let me go!” shouts the older man.

”It does; I’m responsible for her, so I’m going to ask you to stop bothering her.” 

“Nayeon, tell that man that I’m not bothering you.”

You turn and see Nayeon frozen, unable to say a word.”

”Come on, sweetie, tell this man to not treat your father this way.”

”You… you’re not my dad.”

”Don’t be like that, Nayeon; of course, I’m your dad. I’m the one who raised you and your gold-digging mother.”

”Don’t call her that.”

”Well, she is a gold-digging whore. She’s been asking me for money and forcing me to support you.”

You can tell that Nayeon is getting upset by this whole situation and asks, “Nayeon, do you want this man here or not?”

Nayeon shakes her head, “No, I don’t want him here.”

”See, she told you to leave; now go before I call the police.”

”Fuck you, let me go. Nayeon! Listen to me; I’m going to get my money back, one way or another!” 

You grab the man’s arm and push him in between toward the sidewalk, “Go or else it’s going to go worse for you,” telling him in a serious voice. 

“Fuck! This doesn’t end here!”

Turning around, you say, “Nayeon, are you okay?” She doesn’t respond and is frozen from the encounter. You grab her hand, lead her to a private area, and sit on one of the benches, “What happened? Why did that man say he was your dad?”

”He… he’s not my actual dad but my mom’s ex-husband. He’s been harassing us ever since my mom broke up with him.”

”Did you try calling the police?”

”We did, but they wouldn’t do anything. He just wants us to pay back the money he spent on us.”

”What a douchebag.”

”It’s one of the reasons why I decided to join JYP; I thought I could earn some good money after debuting, but that hasn’t happened.”

”I’m sorry to hear that, but I've heard from your coaches that you’re one of the top trainees in the group.”

”How does that help me now? I was supposed to help my mom and get us away from that man.” Nayeon begins to cry, upset at her current situation.

”Everything is going to be okay,” you say as you try to comfort her. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me cry; I’m so embarrassed, especially since you’re the company's CEO.”

”There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you say as you caress her head. It takes her a while to calm down, but after settling down, she asks, “Is there a way I can work part-time while still being a trainee? I just want to pay that man back so he can leave us alone.”

”You don’t have to do that; just focus on your training. I’ll try to contact your mom and see what we can do to ensure he doesn't bother you again. Nayeon agrees, knowing that she can’t do anything in her situation. Jeongyeon and Jihyo appear a few moments later after receiving a message from Nayeon earlier. 

You head back to your office and look for one of your family’s contacts, a friend who can help you in these situations.

”Hey, Don, It’s me. I have a bit of a situation going on.

”……”

”Let me send you the info.”

”……”

“Let’s make this as discreet as possible. I don’t want it causing problems anymore.”

————

Nayeon’s former step-father walks out of the gambling club after losing his month’s earnings. Defeated, he cuts through the alley, trying to return to his cramped apartment after getting kicked out of his house. ‘Fuck that gold-digging slut and her daughter, stealing my hard-earned money. Throwing me like some trash after supporting them for so long. 

Covered by the darkness comes out a figure, “Hey man, it’s been a while.”

”Do I know you?”

”No, but I know you.”

The former step-father is too late to realize and falls to the group. He only sees a vague silhouette of a figure standing before him in the dark alley, “Who are you?”

”No one, I’m just here to take care of someone who’s been causing trouble to my employer. They send their regards.”

There’s no response, only a man lying on the cold, dark floor in an unknown alley. 

Don takes out his phone, calls his employer, “It’s done,” and clicks it. 

The door of a black van opens, and multiple men step out and carry the man lying on the floor. They toss him inside and shut the door before leaving the alley like nothing happened. 

[webslingingslasher]

please angsty queen give us “ranting to a close friend/parent about what they're upset about before they make confrontation just to make sure they aren't overreacting” and “why are you looking at me like that” 🫢

more fluffy than angsty, but i still put some in there bestie.

*mcu peter

Dating a superhero was hard. 

Go figure, right? You don’t think anyone would think it’s easy but the big thing, the real problem in dating one, was that you felt like there was no way to bring up your issues without being selfish. Lately, there was no such thing as Peter time. Dates were pushed off or canceled, he would have you come all the way to his just so he can get pulled away, or get halfway to yours and bail. 

For two weeks straight it hasn’t felt like you had a boyfriend. 

But how do you tell him you feel neglected while he’s out there literally saving people? Hey, Pete? Oh yeah, no, no, it’s nothing, just feeling a little left out, can you stop that guy from dying and come cuddle? Yeah, it was hard. 

One side feels bad, the other is shameful. That side says that Peter could take time away, that he couldn’t always save everyone, that sometimes he could just leave things to the police. But that’s a dark side you’d never talk about, ever. 

You just really needed to talk about it, with anyone other than Peter. You couldn’t tell your boyfriend that he was lacking in his department because he was being a hero. 

“MJ, thank god.” She was the best person to talk to, she took no sides and told it how it was. She could also keep a secret, the only time you let a person play a fence is MJ, she knows too much to ever pick a side. 

“Hola,” She snaps a piece of her apple off, and looks down at her book. Your head looks around the lunchroom, curly hair is nowhere to be found, you need to speak quickly. 

“I need your advice,” you lick your lips and lean forward, she dog ears the page she’s on and closes the book, “go on,” paranoid you look around once more. 

“It’s about Peter.” 

MJ flickers her eyes up, a hand is placed on your shoulder, a kiss dropped on the top of your head. 

“What’s about Peter?” 

You freeze, he’s Spider-Man but you swear he’s rubbed a sixth sense onto you, you just knew he’d pop up. 

“Your birthday’s coming up,” he laughs and sits next to you, “no it’s not,” you look to MJ for support, she gives none, you picked a shitty excuse. “It’s like, seven months away, we have to start planning.” 

Peter takes a bite of your sandwich, “now? Who are you inviting, the whole city?” 

You tsk, “there goes the surprise.” 

You reach to steal a fry, he lets you take three. “You’re lying and wanna talk to MJ about me, don’t you, squidward?” 

Your nose scrunches, “is it normal to let the other person know you’re about to shit talk them in a relationship?”

 Peter thinks about it, MJ watches with a smirk, “I don’t think so, it’s normal to vent.” 

“Do you ever shit talk me?” 

He looks into your eyes, you don’t want to know, “I wouldn’t call it shit talk, MJ, would you call it shit talk?” 

She swallows a bite of apple, “nah, you more panic call than anything.” 

Peter hums and looks at you, “five minutes good?” 

You tilt your head, “to do what?” 

Peter nods at MJ, “to shit talk, I’ll leave five minutes before lunch ends, if that’s enough time.” 

You look him up and down trying to figure out his game, he seems sincere. “You seem really okay with this, I don’t trust it.” 

He shrugs, “babe, we’ve been together long enough. I know you’re not mad at me, I can tell, so I don’t think the conversation could be too damaging.” 

You’re still weary, “fine, five minutes.” 

Peter leans to press a kiss to your temple, “deal,” he looks to MJ, “hey, what was that thing Jason whispered to you in class?” 

MJ cackles, “okay, listen to this,” you follow in conversation until Peter looks at his watch, he kisses your cheek, “times up, see you later.” 

He sends a salute to MJ and finds his way to the double doors, pushing out. 

“Yeah, I could see how you’d want to shit talk him.” 

You groan, “he makes it so hard! Like, this is why I need to talk to you, I feel so evil when I think about telling him bad things.” 

“Okay, what’s up then?” 

“I don’t feel like I have a boyfriend anymore, MJ.” Her eyes widened, “oh shit.” You sigh, “he’s constantly running out on me, canceling dates, not replying for hours at a time, and I feel so shitty because I get so annoyed but I know he’s doing it for a good reason.” 

“And you’d feel selfish telling him because you know what he’s doing when he cancels.” 

You point, “ding, ding, ding. I’m just getting to this place where I feel like I’m being neglected. I don’t like feeling like everytime I’m with my boyfriend I’m on borrowed time. MJ, I…” The words burnt your tongue but it’s a thought that's been on your mind, “MJ, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

MJ frowns, she couldn’t imagine you two not being together, you just made sense. 

“Want my opinion?” 

You nod, MJ clears her throat and shuffles forward. Her hands intertwined and rested on the table, “He’s Spider-Man, but he also needs to be Peter Parker. You deserve to have time with your boyfriend, he needs you to tell him that he’s not splitting his time enough. It doesn’t make you selfish to want Peter.” 

“I should tell him, you think?” 

“If you don’t it’ll turn into resentment, then there’s no coming back.” 

You accept her advice, it confirms how you’ve been feeling, you’ll talk to him and he’ll fix it, then it’ll be okay. 

—-----------------------------

Peter caught you after lunch, his hand wrapped yours and he placed a kiss to the back of it. 

“Consensus?” 

“We should talk.” Peter wouldn’t admit it, but that made his stomach drop. You were talking about him to a friend and then said those words, it didn’t sit well with him, a wave of panic hit him, he didn’t want to talk to you, he was scared of what you would say. 

“Yeah, of course, baby. After school? You can come over, May’s gonna be out all night, we have the place to ourselves.” 

It sounds like a perfect opportunity, if you play your cards right Peter may even spend the whole night home with you. You press up on your feet to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “sounds perfect,” it settled his nerves some. 

He felt even better when you sat on his lap during the train ride, your arm wrapped out his neck, his own was wrapped around your waist, sharing headphones you rested your head against his. Peter felt like you were loving up on him, and you were, but mostly because you felt touch starved from him, and this was the first time in a while you had him all by yourself. 

Peter tapped your thigh when his stop came up, you stood with his hand intertwined with yours. They swung the whole walk back, talking about school and May’s new friend from work, throwing in plans for the weekend, it sent a small pang to your heart, you were scared of them failing. 

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, his backpack sitting on a bar chair. “What’s up?” 

“I, uh,” you pause to think of the right words, “I’ve been feeling a little-” Peter’s police scanner went off, a bank robbery. You felt the air leave your lungs, you couldn’t even talk about the problem because of the problem. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I need to go.” He dashed to his room, quickly stripping to get his suit on. You couldn’t handle it anymore, you follow him and stop him as he’s pulling his suit up his waist. 

“Peter, I really need to talk to you.” 

His eyes flit to yours, he pulls his arm through a sleeve. “Baby, I gotta go. We can talk later.” 

You feel bold, maybe this is the wrong time but MJ is right, resentment is building. 

“No, Peter, we need to talk.” 

He presses his chest, his suit conforms. You hate the sight of it right now, a thought of hiding it passes by. 

“And we can talk later, there’s nothing pressing. I have to go.” 

“Our relationship is pressing, Peter.” 

His eyes narrow, “are you saying it’s on the line?” 

You look at the window behind him, “it will be if you leave.” 

The scanner bleats in the quiet room, they’re requesting back up. Tension is building, you both are die hard on your stances, neither wanting to bend. 

“I need to go, someone could need me.” 

Your words cry out, like you’re pleading to him, “I need you!” 

Peter breathes in and out, he feels bad but he’s needed elsewhere, you’ll be okay, others might not. 

“You have me, I promise. But, really baby, I need to go.” 

You blink tears in your eyes, you’re telling him you need him and he’s leaving, he’s ignoring, he’s brushing you off, he’s not taking you seriously. 

He pulls his window open, you can’t believe he’s leaving. 

“If you go then I’m leaving, I’m not going to wait around for you. Not anymore.” 

Peter doesn’t know what that means, “promise me you’ll stay here, I’ll come right back, I promise. Then I’m all yours, okay?” 

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, swinging off before you could even get words out. It hurt, and he didn’t believe you. He thinks he can just get away with things, that no matter what he did or how long he disappeared you’d be waiting. 

Well, he was wrong. You didn’t need this, not anymore. This time, Peter could come to you, you tried and he refused to listen. If he wanted this relationship then he’d fight for it like he did Spider-Man. 

You packed your things and left, when Peter came home an hour later you were gone without a trace, he tried to call you but all he got was your voicemail. 

—---------------------------

The next morning he came, almost, running up to you. “Hey! I tried calling you last night.” You didn’t sound nearly as happy to see him as he was, “I know, I ignored you.” His eyebrows pinched, “why?” You pushed the arm he had around your shoulder off, it was petty but you were proving a point, things weren’t fine and you won’t pretend they were. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me, I didn’t want to talk to you.” 

Peter hated to fight, this was bordering on fight territory, he wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

“Hey, if this is about last night I’m sorry, I really am. Come over later, I promise I’ll listen.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “you know, Peter, I’m really tired of you promising me your time then taking it away.” 

“I’m not doing it on purpose, you saw how it went down yesterday, there was nothing I could do.” 

There was, it was to choose that you were the more important thing at the time.

“Peter, it’s getting really hard to have a boyfriend I can’t rely on.” 

Internal panic hits again. “What does that mean?” 

You look him over, “it means I don’t really want to talk to you today.” And with that, you walk away. 

—---------------------

Peter was in a funk all day, you stayed true to your word and stayed away unless you needed to talk to him. He understood that what you needed to talk to him about was important, so he decided it was important to him too, he also really missed holding your hand all day. 

You weren’t even home for four hours before he was knocking at your door, Peter could deprive himself from you fine, but when he was aware of it he counted every second. Your plan worked. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Please talk to me, I miss you.” 

You opened your door and gestured for him to come in, he followed you right to your bedroom. He takes a seat on your bed and looks at you expectantly. You didn’t know how to start, you just tried being honest.

“I feel like you don’t spend time with me anymore.” Your words were small, you feel so selfish. 

“I don’t-” 

“For the past couple weeks I’ve felt like I didn’t have a boyfriend, it feels like everytime we hang out you run out on me for something Spidey related. And I hate telling you this, I’ve been bottling it up but MJ said it would lead to resentment and I don’t want to resent you and ruin the relationship, so even though I feel really selfish I just have to tell you this.” 

He’s waiting on you, he’s letting you speak your mind. 

“I know you’re doing important things, and I know the city needs you but I need Peter. I need my boyfriend, I need to have date nights and personal time and I need to not feel neglected.” 

You’re rambling, you need him to talk. He’s looking at you weird, it’s a new look, you can’t place it. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Peter feels choked on words, “I’m sorry. I’m just… really sorry.” 

“I don’t know how to tell you without feeling bad. I don’t want you to feel like you have to make a choice, I don’t want you to choose, I just want-” 

“-Me to choose you sometimes.” 

You breathe out, “yeah.” 

“I get it. I may be Spider-Man but you’re dating Peter, and you need him more right now. I can do that, I’ll plan things better. We can do a designated date night, nothing but earth ending situations can break it. And from now on maybe Spidey doesn’t need to go out for every cop call.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip, “really?” 

He reaches forward to grab your hand, “I don’t want you to resent me and I don’t want you to resent Spidey, I just get so caught up in it sometimes, I need you to ground me.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“For needing me and wanting to spend more time with me, your boyfriend? I could never. Let’s make a schedule, we can plan around Spider-Man. I could do a few hours with you after school then do Spidey after you leave? Or if you want I could-” 

You cut him off with a kiss and thirty minutes later he’s on top of you kissing up and down your neck, his lips ground themselves to yours, you can’t remember the last time he’s touched you like this. His hands slide up your shirt and you exhale into his mouth, you jump when his scanner goes off. 

“All units to Goldburg’s Golds and Gems, active robbery and hostage in progress.” The radio scratched the voice of the operator, Peter barley breaks from your mouth, you hold your breath and wait for the apology, the promise of one last time. 

Instead he reaches out to the scanner and turns it off, he returns to kissing you, then trails down your neck. 

“You sure you don’t need to go?” 

Peter’s words vibrate against your collarbone, “let NYPD’s finest handle it, my girl needs me more.” 

With that he tugs your shirt off. 

[ms-scarletwings]

The Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part II

Hiya! Back at it again with not shutting up about the lil green dudes. In case you found this first, here’s the Part One of this spiel, touching on some of the environmental theories about Irk and its cyberpunk-leaning cultural direction. While this post is dedicated to a more biological look of what’s going on with the Irkens, there was some leading context and other tidbits back in that one you may also enjoy, too.

So, carrying through what we previously set up, I want to… admit off the bat that, I found it a little difficult at first, you know?-To pick an angle I wanted to sink my teeth into. With how old the show’s become and how creative & enthusiastic a fanbase it attracted, it’s getting hard to really note (or theorize) something about Irken anatomy that hasn’t been said before somewhere. And don’t get me wrong, that’s awesome and I love almost every word of it I’ve read. A lot of it from various sources is almost certainly going to bleed together into the first half of this. So, keep it in mind, yet I will try to chew a little deeper into the questions we can’t actually answer with just a rewatch of the show, all good? Because there’s a few more base things we know from the canon I’m going to include to start listing: - Irkens lack any visible form of nose or ears, but are equipped with a pair of sensory antennae. Presumably, these organs fulfill the same roles, as they do in real-world insects. - Irken organs are obviously very alien, not well explained, artificially enhanced, and hard to compare to that of a human’s- outside of their general body shape, the presence of a primary brain separate from the PAK, and the fact that they do possess something of an internal skeleton. - A petite race on average (relative to humans), Irkens universally follow an unquestioned social hierarchy based on individual height. - Irkens are endowed with a remarkable ability to regenerate and heal superficial injuries, even up to repairing the damage of being nearly skinned alive (chest-down) or severely burning their corneas within a matter of hours. - Their preferred diet is one that is rich in (if not primarily made of) refined carbohydrates, and while they seem to tolerate fatty sources, such as processed dairy, their anatomy is poorly suited for dealing with high-protein foods like beans and meat. - In fact, all forms of contact with exposed animal meat itself will cause it to dissolve and meld into their own flesh, via an incredibly painful process. - On contact with water from Earth, their skin will receive harsh chemical burns (This has been explained by Vasquez to be a consequence of impurities and man-made pollutants, which Irkens seem sensitive to). - While I’m already on a roll about their skin, it also contains/produces a substance capable of killing lice.

Now, I think we’ve all heard a lot about sqeedily spooches, but does anyone else want to keep marinating a second longer on the topic of s k i n ? Because I have some damn thoughts to release about Zim’s outer casing.

Let’s Get Chemical

First hot take, and the hill I am willing to be slain on: That ain’t actually skin! At least, it is nothing chemically alike to Earth-native vertebrate skin. I’ve given all of the above and the general running theme about Irkens resembling arthropods a lot of thought, and I’ve come to about the only conclusion I could that makes their dermis equivalent… make sense.

See, one of the biggest traits that sets apart invertebrates from other animals in real life is the “innie or outie” skeleton question, but you gotta understand that the “skeletons” that bugs and crabs have would still be considered something completely different from our endoskeletons even if they were on the inside. The hard tissues that make up OUR skeletal systems are mostly made up of a *collagen (remember that word!) frame that is reinforced by calcium, phosphorus, and other minerals. The hard parts of an ant’s skeleton, on the other foot, are mainly composited of chitin.

Chitin, now, is a very neat substance. It’s a polysaccharide, meaning that it’s made up of a bunch of sugar molecules chained together. This makes it distinct from proteins, which are made of amino acid chains instead of carbs. Chitin is also one of the single most important structural polymers in the universe to a ton of existing life. It makes up the literal backbone of arthropods and the cell walls of all fungi. We’ve even found it in fish scales and some amphibians. So, must also be important to humans, right? NAH. Not a chance. Higher animals actually long ditched the ability to synthesize the stuff, and are not any the worse for it, since there’s more than one way to stick a bunch of creature pieces together. For two examples, keratin and *collagen are proteins we naturally synthesize that functionally do the same thing. Keratin is the hard substance that makes up hair & fingernails, and collagen is practically the wonderglue of flesh: It’s a fundamental binder that holds together your bones, your skin, your precious muscle meats, the ligaments, the tendies, the nerves…

pretty much the whole person blueprint if you get the picture.

And thus concludes your (VERY overly simplified) highshcool bio class recap, but what the hell did that have to do with the cartoon spacemen again? I’m gonna round back to them through a funny secret about exoskeletons, actually: They have a softer part, too! Chitin’s hella diverse in its forms and utility. What’s in an exoskeleton is actually a version of it modified with other materials (like what’s done to collagen in bone) to make it so rigid and shell-like. A purer chitin, on the other hand, is more leathery and flexible, less like the shell of a beetle and more like the squishy wall around a caterpillar or maggot. Even the hard bodied insects still have an endocuticle layer like this hiding just under the “shell”, still considered part of the whole exoskeleton, but suddenly looking and acting more like we’d call a skin.

Eh, see where I’m going with this? My conviction is this- Irkens may have used to be even more arthropodal in an earlier stage of their evolution, including BOTH an internal skeleton, and some form of protective exoskeleton in their body plan. And hey, maybe the two were extensions of the same system once, too. You recognize something like that in modern tortoises when you remember that their “shells” are actually just the bone structure of their own ribcage. Then, let’s say that Irkens later saw the loss of their heavier exocuticle, leaving behind the endoskeleton and the flexible inner (now just an outer) cuticle of what used to be an entire body shell. This could have been a gradual change, via natural selection, or it could have been another artificial mutation brought on by technology- wherein the elder brains decided the feature was less efficient and simply phased it out of the cloning process- the same as the loss of their species’ sexual organs.

But, you’re thinking, why on Irk would the loss of an entire badass armor layer be beneficial to their fitness? Few reasons- For one, they are cumbersome and limiting. The downgrade on freedom of movement and flexibility they would be for a bipedal humanoid is self-explanatory enough. When it came to structural integrity, the inner skeleton would have already done a well job with little modification. For all the protection they provide, they don’t leave much room for expansion, and need to be shed in order for the animal to grow any further or to recover from certain injuries. The process of molting itself would be an excruciating process for any intelligent species to have to endure; one that also temporarily leaves the critter in a very vulnerable and stressed state for every molt. To advance from more primitive origins into a dominant race, manual dexterity and mobility would have to take a front seat over a small amount of modest defenses, and mind you, Irk long ago woulda managed to compensate for that loss in the form of advanced weaponry (obviously).

I’m also of the mind that the shift away from an exoskeleton could have even been the key to allowing the Irkens to even grow to the size they are now. Recall back to Part One for a second, where I shared the likely case for Irk having a massive bulk behind its gravity field. Gravity is a hard thing on any skeletal structure, representing a constant strain to be fought against when moving, growing, and bearing weight .There’s a lot of factors behind why we don’t have horse sized spiders or elephant sized lobsters IRL, and weight is actually one of them. Notice how terrestrial isopods only get about to the size of a bean, but the aquatic ones can top out at over a foot long? And that’s only having Earth’s level of gravity to struggle against, let alone however harsh the conditions would be on a larger planet. So, there’s my framework for explaining what I think the aliens’ cuticle is not; however, what does that mean for what it is, besides “feels and looks like a grub’s”?

Well, look again at some of the extraordinary things it can do.

Cooties Immunity

“Germs” was a memorable episode that posed a very legitimate question to the viewer. Why IS IT that foreign pathogens aren’t a bigger concern for the invaders? They’re literally sent off to other worlds to blend in: Socializing with the native inhabitants, eating their foods, and living in an alien habitat. In the case of an undiscovered rock like Earth, our infectious diseases would have no reference available to the Armada whatsoever. Sure, species incompatibility would provide some protection, but the risk of something carrying over and adapting is always still there. Zoonoptic jumps happen all the time with bacteria and viruses, and Zim’s body temperature IS in the normal human range. And what about fungal pathogens, or parasites-

Oh, wait, the lice episode gave it away right there.

I love this sequence so much, because it’s coincidentally like, an exact “art imitates life” parallel to something a real species of primate does. Black lemurs live in the same area of Madagascar as these vibrant, red millipedes.

The millipedes are special because when threatened, they secrete a poisonous substance from their skin. The lemurs are special because they like to grab the bugs and nibble them for no other reason than to make them release those toxins. Those chemicals are then rubbed into their fur, because somehow the lemurs figured out it makes a really handy mosquito repellant. The lemurs also like to get completely zonked out on the chemicals too but eyy- Point was it stands to reason that Irkens may also secrete small amounts of their own potent toxin from the cuticle, perhaps for more hygienic than defensive purposes. This secretion would be responsible for protecting them from parasites and topical infections. Could it also make people blazed out of their minds? …Maybe? I think I’d like to promote the “Just Say No” policy on the matter of licking aliens, though. Ffs at least ask them out to dinner first.

When it comes to other kinds of sick, looks like it might be the trusty old PAK to the rescue here again. I imagine that, being an intergalactic, partially mechanical civilization, the Irken race has come down this road enough to put in a workaround. A standard PAK contains the entirety of the population’s collective knowledge/history- which would include a catalog of all known infectious agents they have encountered across the universe. Some kind of nanobot-bolstered immune system that could detect and respond appropriately to new threats isn’t out of the question, nor should a feature that can automatically administer the appropriate medicine directly into the wearer’s bloodstream. For all this awesomeness, nonetheless, there remains a downside or two that they haven’t quite conquered..

The Meaty, Sweety, Mending of DOOM

Anyone ever actually think about how as far as resilience is concerned, Zim is practically an X-man compared to any Earthling? He has regenerative capabilities that surpass anything else on earth, save idk, bamboo shoots, if even. Injuries that would leave a human permanently disabled only seem to incapacitate an Irken for a few hours to a day at most. They’re all the more tough to put out of commission when considering that a PAK doubles as a form of backup life support, ready to “soft reboot” the host with a quick jolt if it detects a sudden drop in vital signs. It is tempting to credit the same device as the source of this healing boost as well, teasing the nanobot suggestion again; however, I see a chance instead to bring this back a step.

Although not as quick-acting as Zim, or Skoodge’s healing, there are some remarkable examples of regeneration in real arthropods, from repairing tissues/organs to replacing entire lost limbs. What the aliens are packing doesn’t seem all that different, only refined (through years of bioengineering) to work at a truly frightening efficiency. It shows through in their diet as well. Almost always, if we see a member of this species eating on screen, and believe me there was no shortage of examples, what are we watching them shovel their face with?

Space doughnuts, space popcorn, space Fun-Dip, sodas, and curly fries. Sure, there’s plenty of calories here, no doubt with the amount of carbs and grease that could even turn the stomach of a college freshman, but is this… nutrition?

Yes. Just not for us.

Like their civilization, we have also turned the mass production of sweet-packed, fat loaded foods into one of our favored art forms, and there are scattered pockets of our planet that can enjoy these items in cheap abundance. The catch 22? Obesity and heart disease. Meanwhile, Irkens are so metabolically blessed that they can follow the same lifestyle and actually be thriving by it. We know that the majority of human food is utterly toxic to Zim, but then there were waffles, a literal stack of dessert and butter that pretends to be a breakfast…. Our guy was experiencing the “finally some good fucking food” meme from the first bite off that plate, but this can’t seriously be healthy,or if it is, then how?

Well, if I did sell you on the idea that much of their tissues and skeleton swaps out a chitin base where we would be using protein, there you go. Sugars for the building blocks to synthesize the connective/structural tissues for maintaining the body, and the bulk of the energy required to keep it running. And I won’t make the leap and suggest that’s all they have.

After all, the Irken equivalent of sandwiches do actually seem to contain “lettuce” and something that people will say looks like meat slices while not convincing me. I can get behind the thought of the natural or maybe original Irken diet to be a mix of plant matter and supplemental fungi, but everything I’ve put together implies that they are completely unfit for processing the goodies in animal flesh.

Overwhelmingly, I believe that the only time they possibly even seek out more sources of amino acids is going to be when they are smeets. That’s how it works in many wasp species. I.e. The growing larvae are the only ones that actually get to reap from the hard work of a colony hunting down enough protein to feed them with, yet the adults live out the rest of their lives more than content to gorge themselves on nectars and fruits exclusively!

And you even could put that aside, but you’ll have to grapple with the ungodly thing that happens every single time you see Zim touching a piece of meat. Would be awfully convenient to blame it on his personal brand of weirdness, or earth contaminants, but we remember this was a weakness that Tak approached fully aware of and expecting.

We know that polluted water can burn them. We know that beans and other foods can give them grotesque allergic reactions. Well what in the horrifying name of Resident Evil is this, though? Buddy pals, I think we got some unintended consequences of that bio-hacking on hand. Collagen and chitin aren’t just functionally similar to each other, they are practically analogous building blocks.

For a WILD science fact, consider that there’s a ton of ongoing research into the application of chitin and chitin-derivatives into having a role in tissue engineering, as a hypothetical scaffold in lab cultured meat, and as an effective wound dressing ingredient.

What we’re seeing with incidents like Dib throwing that Bologna at Zim could be an extreme form of the vise versa, because I know a certain protein that processed meat happens to be pretty high in :)))

Imagine the coupling of this with the bioengineered genome of Zim’s kind being so… reactive to a foreign intrusion, yet also flexible to modification. Maybe it is the acids, or some contaminant/seasoning on the meat that first damages the cuticle. That healing ability kicks in, but doesn’t stop where chitin does, readily binding to and with the collagens in these strange tissues that are sorta like an Irken’s but also just enough not like an Irken’s that it also kicks the immune system into overdrive. Think of all the pain and inflammation of a poison ivy rash but if the damn plant itself could also fuse itself with whatever you brushed against it. I think Zim actually had an understandable reason to be homicidally pissed off for that Bologna assault. Also how the Bologna virus was accelerated in Zim’s body. Once it had incorporated itself into his own DNA, it was game set and match with the speed and help those cells had to replicate themselves.

And uh, yeah, I think this post has gotten about as long as it reasonably should be here. I did have a couple more points I really wanted to get out of my brain about the Almighty Tallest, and I think that would be a good launching point actually for a possible (and hopefully final jfc) part three to this. Till then I got some off-topic scoliids to taxidermy 👀

[lacontroller1991]

My Lips on Yours (J. Robert Oppenheimer x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

requested by @forgottenpeakywriter :can you write something where reader and oppie have been dating for a while and they share their first kiss

DISCLAIMER: This is clearly based off of Cillian Murphy's Oppenheimer. If this bothers you just scroll on.

Warnings: Language, kissing, drinking, smoking, slight mention of sex

Word Count: 1.3

----------

You can remember the day like it was yesterday. Robert had shown up to your house, bouquet of flowers in his hands and a formal invitation asking you out. You, of course, had instantly said no. Being close family friends with Lawrence gives you a certain insight on some individuals, including Robert Oppenheimer. Lawrence had explicitly told you ‘stay away from him,’ but it’s hard to avoid Oppenheimer when he’s everywhere you go. 

Even though you told him no the first time he asked you out, it sure didn’t stop him. He showed up to your doorstep again, a new bouquet of flowers and had asked the same question ‘would you like to have dinner with me’, to which you again said no. 

It took almost two weeks of him constantly asking you day by day for you to say yes, despite your friends all warning you. 

By the time you started dating you had to admit to yourself, it was honestly not that bad. In fact, you and him went on another, and another, and another until almost three months have passed. 

Despite having dated for a few months now there's still something that you and him haven’t done. You haven’t kissed each other. Don’t be mistaken, you and him have had sex. Lots of it. But you and Robert have not kissed each other on the lips and it’s honestly irritating.

Seeming to pick up on your annoyance, your colleague looks up at you from across the table in the library. “Something the matter?”

You turn your attention to your classmate and let out a huff. “Just annoyed.”

“About?”

You close your book and set it down onto the table. “It’s been over three months and we still haven’t kissed. It’s just been bothering me. Why hasn’t he kissed me? Did I do something wrong? Am I unappealing? Is he just using me? What am I doing wrong?” You place your head in your hands in frustration as your friend flicks their eyes above you to see a pair staring back before the person scurries away. 

“You’re doing nothing wrong. Maybe he’s just not ready for that kind of commitment.” Your friend tries to soothe you but it’s a hard feat.

“That wouldn’t make sense though. We’ve done things. He kisses me everywhere except my face. It just makes me feel like he’s using me for my body and that he doesn’t really care for me.” Your friend nods in response, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

“I’m sure he does. He’s just weird like that. You knew that when you started dating him.” The comment makes you laugh slightly as you wipe away a stray tear before opening your book back up.

“Lawrence did try to warn me.”

“That he did. Let’s get back to studying.”

----------

“Dr. Oppenheimer?” The sound of his name being called stirs Oppenheimer’s concentration from his desk of papers and causes him to look up to see Alvarez standing in the doorway, awkwardly shifting his weight.

“What is it Alvarez?”

“Can I tell you something that might be awkward?” Robert motions to the seat in front of his desk and takes a puff from his pipe, waiting for Alvarez to continue. “So I know you’re seeing (Y/N) but I feel like you should know that (Y/N) is getting frustrated that you guys haven’t… kissed.” Silence.

“Where did you hear this?” 

“I overheard her telling this to her friend.” Robert pushes away from his desk and places the papers in his briefcase, exhaling a plume of smoke before snuffing out his pipe.

“Thank you, Alvarez, for letting me know. You can see yourself out.” Alvarez quickly nods and rushes away, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of the topic at hand. The minute Alvarez gets out of sight Robert leans back into his chair, staring off to the distance. If you’re bothered by him not kissing you, he wonders what else you’re bothered with.

----------

Sharp knocks on the door disrupt you from your studying. Getting up from your seat you stride towards the door, swinging it open to reveal Robert on the other side, flowers in his hands. “Good evening darling.”

“Robert? I wasn’t aware that you’re coming. Do we have a date tonight?” He brushes past you and sets the flowers on your doorway stand before hanging up his coat and hat while you watch on in confusion.

“Do I need to have an appointment to see you?”

“Well, no, but I also wasn’t expecting you. If I’d known that you were coming I would’ve cooked something.” He waves his hand and steps further into your house towards the kitchen, instantly fixing himself and you a martini. 

“Nonsense. I can make us something.” Now you’re really confused. You have never heard of Robert cooking. In fact, you’re not even sure if he knows how to, given the fact that he’s so thin. You’ve always just assumed that his diet is cigarettes, martinis, coffees and the occasional cookie that he would always steal from your lunch box or even Lawrence’s. 

“Ok, Robert. What are you doing here?” He turns around and hands you the martini, a smile on his face as he takes your arm and guides you to the couch. 

“I heard something and I want to run it by you.” His admission has your heart racing. What on earth could it be that he just had to show up to your house? Nodding your head for him to continue, his blue eyes pierce yours. “I heard that you expressed some discourse about the fact that we haven’t properly kissed.”

The comment made you spit out your drink. “What?”

“Alvarez overheard you telling your friend that you’re upset that we haven’t kissed properly, so I’m here to change that.” Why this arrogant bastard. 

“You’re a jerk Robert,” you move to stand up but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back down, setting your drinks of the coffee table before taking your face in his hands. 

“No, no. Hear me out.” You want to pull away but you also want to hear him out. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you, I just didn’t know when a good time would be or if you even wanted to.”

“Let me counter that point. Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been seeing each other for months now and we still haven’t done something so mundane.” He shakes his head, one thumb running over your cheek while the other hand pets your hair.

“I don’t want it to be mundane. I want it to be magical. With the… parameters… of our relationship I never knew when the good time was to kiss you, but now I know.”

“You could’ve always asked, you know?” He chuckles in response, his eyes staring into yours as your bodies move ever so closer together. 

“Well (Y/N). May I kiss you?”

“No.” Your answer is a sharp slap to Robert’s face and he begins to pull away but your hands reach out to his face. “Of course you can, you silly idiot.” He smiles like an idiot before closing the gap between the two of you, your lips molding together like they were meant for each other. Your hands grab onto his blazer and hold him close as his tongue sweeps along your bottom lip asking for access. Opening your mouth, you let out a little whimper as he explores you. There’s now a tangible layer of intimacy between you and Robert now and it’s dizzying. You feel lightheaded, like you’re drunk. Maybe you’re drunk on him, but whatever it is, it is way better than you imagined.

The two of you remain in each other’s embrace for a minute before he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you try to catch your breaths. “How was that?”

“That was… something else.” He chuckles, his thumb tracing your swollen parted lips. “Do it again.”

“Now that I know, I don’t intend to stop.”

[starsandhughes]

I loved the engagement post 🥹 would you be willing to write about how Luke gave Trevor the talk after walking in on him and reader?

Ever since that first date with Trevor, there’s been a lot of sneaking into each other’s rooms at night for some alone time and… make out sessions.

It had been working out well for the last couple of days! No one really goes into anyone’s room after everyone’s gone to bed. Until tonight, when Luke flew open your bedroom door and found you and Trevor making out on the bed.

“Hey, Sissy— oh my god!” Luke shouted as he walked in.

You and Trevor flew apart, wide eyed at the teen standing with his jaw dropped in the doorway. Luke’s demeanor changed as soon as he collected himself. He was no longer shocked, he seemed mad. His arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at Trevor, “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, Z, I’ll come talk to you when—“

“I meant to Trevor,” Luke interrupted. It was your turn to be shocked, “I guess I’ll go sit in the living room?”

The second you closed the door, you heard Luke began to speak. You contemplated snooping, but you decided to let him have his moment.

— — —

“Sissy better not just be a make out buddy for you. Because if she is, I swear—“

“Woah! Y/N is not just a make out buddy to me! We’ve been kissing a lot, yes, but that’s because it’s so new! We don’t just sneak off to kiss each other. We talk, and we enjoy spending time together, and we’ve been making plans on things to do once we go back to school!” Trevor defended himself. “Is that what you all think?”

“No,” Luke sighed as he sat down next to Trevor. “We all know you two go into each other’s rooms, but Quinn told us to be respectful and leave you guys alone. I thought I came in early enough for you to not be here. But I wasn’t exactly pleased that I found you on top of her.”

“Not our finest moment,” Trevor awkwardly laughed.

Luke was quiet for a moment. He’d been a bit protective of his sister ever since he saw her crying in Quinn’s arms after her first breakup. And again after the most recent one, which felt way worse than the ones before.

“I don’t want to see her heart get broken again,” Luke admitted. “I know it’s different this time, because you asked Quinn for permission and you already know us, but I’m scared. You didn’t see how depressed she was here earlier this year.”

“I did—“

“No. You saw her at school. You saw her post being with Quinn. You didn’t see her here.” Trevor remained silent. “Y/N’s been through a lot. So much that she left her family to live with us and hasn’t spoken to them since. Nothing was worse than seeing her feel so broken when we first moved, but I can already see how different you are. If you break her heart, it’ll destroy her, and nobody will stop Quinn from coming after you because Jack and I will, too.”

Trevor took a moment to take that all in. He still doesn’t know everything that happened for Y/N to move in with the Hughes family, but he hopes that one day she’ll be able to trust him fully to tell him.

“I don’t intend on breaking on heart. I intend to be there for her while it comes back together. The second I met her, I knew she was someone special. I’ve never met anyone before that I wanted to try so hard for, but I want to be the best man I can be for her. And if I fuck that up tremendously, I’ll gladly take whatever you three choose to do.”

“I know that. I’m just…” Luke trailed off.

“Scared,” Trevor finished for him. “Me, too.”

“Why are you scared?” Luke asked him.

“I know Quinn said I’m good enough for him if I’m good enough for her, but I’m scared that one day she’ll want more. That she’ll not want to be with a hockey player that leaves for roadies if I make it to the NHL and that she won’t want to be with me if I’m on a far away team. I hated seeing her so upset. I hate seeing her upset over things that I don’t know about so she goes to Jack for. I never want to be the reason she cries,” Trevor admitted.

“At least Quinn’s not scared,” Luke offered.

Trevor laughed, “That’s good. I think that’s what matters most to her.”

The two boys sat for a moment, taking everything they both said in. They seemed to come to a silent understanding when Luke finally spoke, “You’ll be good to her?”

“I’ll be great to her,” Trevor said firmly.

“Good,” Luke stood up. “Go get her then. She’s in Quinn’s room.”

“I thought she said she was going to the living room?” Trevor asked, standing up with him. Luke gave him a look, “Maybe you don’t know her as much as you think you do.”

Trevor followed Luke out of your room and sure enough, she was in Quinn’s.

“Can I come back now?”

Trevor looked at Quinn and Luke, silently asking for more permission to go back into Y/N’s room.

“Yes, go,” Quinn said.

Y/N laughed as she took Trevor’s hand to take him back into her room, “I love you both!”

“We love you, too, Sissy,” Luke laughed.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not responding to someone in rp?

📝 <- to recognize

Also disclaimer this is about to be a very low stakes problem about a very small rp server between friends. If you don’t care then don’t read it’s fine 😂 I just want opinions over something I have some anxiety about. Everyone is in the same age range of about 24-26

Ok, so: basically what it says on the tin, I’m in a small rp server that has nothing to do with fandoms it’s just OCs, mostly dnd stuff. It’s just between me and a couple friends, there has been no serious drama whatsoever and it’s very nice!

We recently added a new member (I’ll call him Blue) who doesn’t have a lot of characters yet, but the handful he does have are… well. Practically all the same character. They have different backstories but all the same personality, which is to say they have none.

Every character of his is entirely neutral all the time, but not as some sort of comedy bit, just as… they are all very Prim And Proper, very intelligent, very unwilling to react to anything at all. No strong emotions about anything even when faced with something extreme like a villain or even a non-evil crazy event. We like to have fun and throw wild dangerous or just funny circumstances at our characters, yet his characters essentially always go 😐 “Well. That happened. Anyways.” And brush it all off… unless Blue thinks he can be The Savior of the day. But if he can’t just shut down the whole event, then his characters go back to being totally checked out and uncaring about any of it. He explains this saying that they’re all used to this kind of thing (though their backstories do say otherwise) and one of them is a god so he especially doesn’t need to react to things.

None of this is really the end of the world, it just makes interacting with his characters very difficult for me and a few others. For instance if I throw a villain in for the day, it’s… kinda hard to actually pose a threat when you have a handful of characters just standing there reacting like they’re on The Office. Similarly it’s harder to form emotional connections between characters if one oc pours their heart out and the other says “Well I’m sorry for your experiences” and brings nothing else to the table. There have been a couple instances as well where my friends and I worry that we’ve upset Blue with how our characters react, but like, if one of ours is a naturally rude and antagonistic person, they are going to be rude and antagonistic. Nobody else has a problem with this bc we all do it for variety and sometimes it’s fun to have a little oc drama! But Blue will have his characters react in a slightly guilt trippy way and then just go silent, sometimes explaining or even complaining out of character that their oc was Just Joking or similar. He hasn’t expressed being upset to us and nobody has had an argument about any of this, but the vibes end up feeling… off.

All of this just makes it hard to interact with Blue’s characters. They’re all The Same, they don’t really involve themselves with the rp in a way that garners reaction, and personally I overthink and worry about possibly upsetting him since we’ve all seen how weird things feel after 1 Antagonist Character says 1 Antagonistic Thing. So if I respond to his characters, I tend to respond more blandly than I do with others. Similarly, he has taken to proposing hypothetical ideas about rp and character interaction and then when I don’t immediately have a good response, he tags me and asks how my characters would react to his. I try my best to respond, really, but because there’s nothing there to bounce off of… it’s hard to come up with a good response! And if the response isn’t good enough Blue seems disappointed with it and just drops the whole idea altogether. This is mainly what fuels my anxiety about it, thinking that I’m not doing good enough while also not being given anything good to work with either.

To be clear I do not think he is being an asshole, At least not on purpose. I think there’s a lot of factors that could explain this and it’s honestly not a crime to just not be “good” at rp. What I’m wanting opinions on is should I be trying harder?? I worry that my effort has been affected by a growing distaste for his characters. He’s a lovely person, I have no beef with him lol, but I think it’s gotten clear that I respond more enthusiastically to the others. It’s not intentional, but it’s what happens bc I feel bad ignoring him altogether especially when he tags me specifically for a reaction. I also don’t know if the classic “omfg just communicate” response is very applicable because honestly I think I WOULD be the asshole for messaging him and saying “hey it’s not that I don’t like you it’s just that your characters are not fun to interact with, fix that!” Even in nicer terms than that haha cause in general offering unsolicited constructive criticism even with the kindest intentions is seen as a bad move.

So… AITA for not responding to Blue as much or as enthusiastically as I do for my other friends? Should I be faking it til I make it or does it not need to be an issue until it becomes one?

TLDR: new member of a small rp server joined and all his characters seem to have no personality and are all the same Perfect Intellectual type. There hasn’t been any serious problem but it is hard to interact with them and I am tending to lean toward bland responses bc I don’t feel like I have anything to work with here. Should I be trying harder or is it not a problem until it’s brought up?

What are these acronyms?

[candycandy00]

Lazy sex with Dabi?

Smut. 18+.

You finally get some time alone with Dabi, the other members of the League either off doing villainous activities or just doing the shopping, but both of you are too tired to do anything more than sit together on the couch and watch television. Dabi is holding the remote, flipping through the channels, occasionally asking if you want to watch whatever he’s landed on. Nothing holds your interest. You’re too tired to even focus on a tv show. The two of you have been busy trying to recruit for the League all week.

Dabi is sitting close to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth that always seems to radiate off his body. On this cool autumn night, it feels very pleasant. You almost nod off, comfortable as you are, when Dabi shifts and puts one arm around you. He leans over and kisses your neck, but does nothing more. If he’s too tired to put the moves on you, he must be truly exhausted. You snuggle in against him and resign yourself to falling asleep here, at least until your comrades start filing in.

Then, Dabi changes the channel again, and a surprisingly steamy scene is on tv. It’s so steamy that you’re surprised it isn’t more censored than it is. A man and woman are making passionate love, their bodies partially covered by the sheets to hide the act from more sensitive viewers. The woman is moaning loudly while the man mimics the motions of sex. It’s enough to make you blush. You glance over at Dabi, wondering why he hasn’t changed the channel yet, and you find him looking not at the screen, but at you.

“What is it?”

He grins. “Are you blushing? From that?” he asks, gesturing toward the tv. “We’ve done a whole lot more than that.”

“I know,” you say, feeling yourself going red, “but I’m never as loud as her.” The woman on the television is screaming with pleasure. It’s a bit awkward to listen to.

Dabi lays a hand on your thigh, then slides it up and under your skirt. “You can get pretty loud,” he says teasingly.

“So you can you!”

Dabi laughs. “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d make you scream like that.”

You smile back at him, feeling yourself getting wet as he slips his fingers beneath your panties. “And if I wasn’t so tired, I’d make you scream even louder.”

The two of you share a look, lust and fatigue battling in Dabi’s eyes. Finally you decide to use what little energy you have left to mount Dabi, climbing onto his lap, facing him, your skirt hiked up to your waist. You unbutton his pants as he watches you, looking like he’s about to choke on desire. You pull his cock free, shove your panties to the side, and lower yourself onto him.

Dabi doesn’t moan, as if he’s making a point of being quiet, but he’s looking at you with hungry eyes as you bob up and down on him in quick, shallow motions. He’s only halfway in, and you can tell he wants nothing more than to reach up and pull you all the way down. But he doesn’t even touch you. He sits on the couch, almost motionless, letting you do all the work, enjoying the show.

Your breaths are coming quickly, little sounds escaping your lips as his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot. You’re tired and sleepy but you’re feeling so good that you can’t stop. And it’s so entertaining to watch Dabi fight so hard to remain silent.

Suddenly, as if he can remain a spectator no longer, Dabi snakes one hand down to rub your clit between two fingers. Your whole body reacts, your back arching, your knees squeezing dabi’s torso, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, and you call out his name in ecstacy. When you realize what just happened, that he made you scream just the way he said he would, you gasp and clamp your hands over your mouth. You just fucked up. Dabi is grinning like a cat, his expression saying, “I won!”

But you won’t be defeated so easily. You suddenly slide down his cock until you hit his torso, taking his considerable length inside you and clenching around him. You grind against his body, using one hand to lift your shirt up and display your tits. Dabi’s look of triumph morphs into unfettered lust, and he moans loudly, reaching up one hand to massage a bouncing breast. It’s your turn to grin, but he doesn’t even seem to notice your victory. He’s too preoccupied with kissing your neck and thrusting his hips up from the couch. Funny, he doesn’t seem all that tired anymore.

The two of you cum together, grasping each other while you tremble and Dabi pants. When it’s over, all the exhaustion slams back into you like a train. You slide off him and sit back on the couch, leaning against him. Within minutes, you’re both asleep.

When you wake up who knows how much later, you find yourself and Dabi still on the couch, but someone has placed a blanket over you both. You’re surprised that someone from the League had been so thoughtful, until you wake up enough to take in the scene around you.

The rest of the members of the league are sitting around the large living room area of the hideout that you all share. A few of them glance at you and then quickly look away with awkward expressions, as if trying to avoid meeting your eyes. The television is still on, another steamy movie blaring from the screen, another random actress screaming out her pretend lover’s name. Dabi is waking up beside you and you take a deep breath before lifting the blanket and looking down. Your skirt is still hiked up around your waist, your shirt is still pulled up above your breasts, and Dabi’s pants are still open, his now limp cock still free from his clothes. You blush crimson and sink lower into the couch, knowing full well that you won’t be able to look any of the others in the eye for at least a week.

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {10}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

We sit in Gwyn’s office, holding hands on the couch.

The last few weeks have been good. Really good. Cassian has slept with me every night, his arms around me, tucked in close to him. We’ve kissed, we’ve snuggled, but nothing more has happened, even though I’ve been tempted. 

Especially when I can feel my husband’s cock against me for half the night and in the morning, long, thick, and hard. 

I know it’s been trying for him, I know he’s wanted me, I know he’s been holding himself back, but he hasn’t tried anything. Even if I’ve wanted him to, not that I’ve said anything to him, but sometimes when we’re lying there all I want is for him to slip a hand in my clothes, to touch me, tease me, fuck me until I’m nothing but a puddle in his hands.

Still, he’s respected my boundaries. He always has, which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place. 

Even if I think I’m ready to take that next step, to have sex again — protected, of course. Double protection. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to try and have kids again, and if it happens by accident…

I shake the thought away before I can psych myself out. Sex, with my husband. I think I’ll bring it up soon, very soon. Either that or I’ll just try jumping him once we’re in bed.

Something tells me that he’d like that. A lot. 

“Nesta?”

“Hmm?” I know my cheeks are warm as I focus my attention back on Gwyn. Apparently she had asked me something while I was lost in my lust filled daydream. I look at Cassian.

He’s grinning, like he knows perfectly well where my mind has gone.

He’s always known my tells. 

“Cassian said you two have been sleeping in the same bed every night,” she says, politely, as always. “What has that meant to you?”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve forgotten how much more…I don’t know, secure I feel when he’s in bed with me. I’m more at ease when he’s sleeping beside me. Comforted.” 

“So it’s been a good change?” she pushes.

“A great change,” I say, and when I look at Cassian again, his eyes have softened.

My knees are weak. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Gwyn says, closing her notebook and I have no idea how an hour has already passed. It always seems to go so quickly. “After reflecting on your progress, I think it’s time that you two took the next step. At this point, I usually recommend a couple’s vacation. It gives you time to ignore the real world and just focus on one another for a few days without any interruption.” 

“A couples vacation?” Cassian asks, intrigued. “That sounds—”

“I can’t.” The words are out of me before I can stop them. Cassian’s smile has faltered. “I just…my new book is set to come out next month and there’s still so much to do. I have nonstop deadlines. Unless we wait until after—”

“After you’ll have to do press shit,” Cassian says, his voice quiet, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his calm. “You’ll be even busier after the release than you are now. I think getting away for a few days would be good for us. I can sneak away from the restaurant for a long weekend, at least, and if I can ignore my work for a few days, you can, too.”

Don’t snap. I take a deep breath. “You don’t understand—”

“Then bring your laptop with you,” he suggests, taking a deep breath of his own. He looks at me. “You can get some work done in the mornings, then we can be together later in the day.” 

“I would recommend keeping your laptop at home,” Gwyn says, as if she was preparing for my argument. “If you bring it, it will be all you want in front of you, it will be all you’re thinking about. As Cassian said, you can even go for just a long weekend. Thursday through Monday. Find someplace you want to go, relax and reconnect for a few days, then come back and resume your work schedule.” 

I nibble on my lip and I know that Cassian is looking at me, waiting for me to respond, so I don’t make eye contact. “I just…I’m sorry, I don’t think I can right now, it’s not a good time.”

Cassian drops my hand, but before he can say something out of his frustration, Gwyn says, “Why don’t the two of you think about it and talk about it? Nothing has to be decided today, but I do think it will be good for you.”

Cassian says nothing else but I nod. We wrap up our session and make our way to my car, which Cassian hates because he’s a giant and can hardly fit in the passenger seat, but the truck had a flat tire and we didn’t have time to change it before we had to leave to make our appointment. If I know Cassian at all, which I do, I bet he’ll be angry-changing the tire the second we get home. 

He opens the passenger side door the second I unlock the car and shifts awkwardly into the seat until he’s comfortable enough before closing the door.

Opening my own door, I get in the car and turn the engine over, glancing in the mirrors before putting the car in reverse.

“It’s four days, Nes.”

Sighing, I shift back into park. “Four days is a lot longer than you think.” I don’t mention that I get the bulk of my writing done on Friday and Saturday nights when he’s at the restaurant. Uninterrupted time isn’t something I get often, so a long weekend is too long for me to be away. “I can’t take any time off from edits, Cassian, not if I want the book to come out on time.”

He doesn’t immediately say anything, so I shift into reverse and start heading home. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but the timing isn’t great. We can do it later, I promise, but right now isn’t good.”

“It’ll never be a good time,” he says, slumping down in his seat. It makes him look like a petulant child.

“I just said we can go after the book comes out,” I say, trying my best to keep my tone calm, but I can hear the bite in my voice. 

He turns to face me in the car, his shoulder pressing against the window in the process. “I think we should go now. We’ve been doing great, Nesta, this can only help.”

I get where he’s coming from, and I’m really trying to keep my rising temper in check, but it’s challenging. “I agree, but I already have Eris up my ass—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Eris,” Cassian snaps. His calm demeanor has vanished. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His temper, even worse than mine, has always been a stumbling block. 

“Well, you should, because he’s the reason I’ve been so successful,” I snap back. “He’s given me a schedule, I’m following that schedule, I have no choice but to follow the damn schedule, and there’s nowhere on that schedule that says I have time for a four day vacation.”

“Four days is nothing!” He shouts.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Cassian,” I hiss, “but I didn’t get to where I’m at because I neglected to do what’s necessary. I have fucking deadlines, and I’ve told you that I can’t fucking go, so I can’t fucking go.”

His jaw snaps shut and there’s a storm in his eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks. He stares at me for a moment, and even though I look back to the road, I can feel his eyes lingering. We ride like that, him staring at me, pissed; the silence overwhelming until we pull onto our street. 

Once I pull into the driveway, he’s already got the door open before I can even put the car in park, as if he can’t stand to be within a confined space with me for a second longer. 

Good.

I can’t stand him at the moment, either.

He’s being unreasonable, refusing to see where I’m coming from. 

As I expected, he’s storming toward his truck in the garage, opening the hatch to grab the spare tire. Without another look in his direction, I go inside.

Greg greets me, and I curse Cassian outloud to my furbaby before going straight for the wine cabinet. I pour a glass but don’t drink it. Instead, I lean on the counter, letting my face fall into my hands. 

What the hell is happening?

I went into Gwyn’s office today excited to talk about our progress, and now I feel like we’ve made no progress at all. 

Or maybe we have made progress and that’s the issue. 

I know there are worse things than my husband wanting to spend time with me, but he just doesn’t get it. He has no idea what it takes to be a published author, and I know I’ve subjected myself to my job too much in the past few years, but I don’t want to let my readers down. 

I stay leaning against the counter, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths. I don’t want this to get out of hand. I can’t let this get out of hand.

Cassian’s right. We’ve been doing really well. And a little couple’s vacation would be good for us. Great, in fact, especially now that I’m ready to be intimate again. We don’t need to be having these stupid little fights. Even if I feel passionately about what I’m fighting for, I know he does, too.

I try to think of a compromise. 

After taking a sip from my wine glass, I wander to the backdoor, where I can see through the little window into the garage. Cassian, with his jacket now off, is tightening the spare. His brow is set, his lips thinned, and he’s tightening the bolts probably way more than he should.

Cauldron help him next time he has to change that tire.

I watch as he finishes up, but rather than come inside, he continues around to each tire, checking them out one by one. Rolling my eyes, I take another drink of my wine and retrieve my laptop before settling in at the kitchen counter. Clearly, Cassian isn't interested in coming inside yet, so I’ll just sit and wait until he is.

It’s nearly twenty minutes later before the back door opens, my husband entering with grease on his hands and his hair tied back. When his eyes fall on my computer open before me, I can almost feel the ire radiating off of him. He doesn’t speak to me, goes straight to the sink and begins washing his hands.

Plopping my chin in my hand, I ask, “Do you think Skull’s Bay is nicer this time of year or the Coronal Islands?”

He’s in the process of trying to get the grease out from under his nails when he freezes and looks at me.

When he doesn’t say anything, I hum. “Or maybe Adriata. We’ve been there before, but who says it has to be somewhere new.”

Cassian turns off the tap, wiping his hands off on one of the kitchen towels. Turning to face me, he leans a hip on the counter and slings the towel over his shoulder. “When?”

I clear my throat. “I was looking at flights for next weekend.”

He’s moving before the words are fully out of my mouth, crossing the kitchen. “I promise, baby, this is going to be worth it.”

“I have some conditions though.” I push my laptop to the side, the travel sites half forgotten. “I know Gwyn said I should leave my computer. I can’t, Cass. There physically isn’t enough time for me to take four full days off.”

“That’s fine,” he agrees, his eyes bright.

Toying with the stem of my wine glass, I add, “I’m also probably going to be…distant in the days leading up to the flight.”

That grants him pause. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to try and get as much done as I possibly can before we leave, so I can ignore my laptop as much as I can while we’re there.”

Cassian stares at me.

I stare back.

“If you can’t go—”

“Are you seriously trying to persuade me not to go now that I’ve made up my mind that I’m going?” I scold. “Cassian—”

“I was pressuring you,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

It only occurs to me now that I’ve put him in a tough position. Since we’ve been distant with one another, since things have been weird, he’s probably extra cautious about pressuring me into things. 

I hesitate.

He picks up on it.

“Cassian—”

“If you can’t go—”

“I want to go—”

“But if you really can’t—”

“I want to go!” I laugh, unable to control the countless emotions running through me. I’m frustrated, but also excited and vulnerable. I stare at him, shaking my head. “I want to go. I just need you to meet me halfway. I know it’s not ideal—”

“You’ll go?” He asks, interrupting me.

I nod, taking a step towards him. “You were right. This will be good for us. I owe us this.”

Cassian is looking at me like he doesn’t believe a damn word that comes out of my mouth, and it hurts. Yet, he nods. “Okay.”

I haven’t realized how close we’re standing, how near he is to me. His eyes are still searching mine, his disbelief and suspicion on full display. 

“It’s almost as if you’re the one that no longer wants to go,” I say, quietly, and I mean it as a joke, to try and ease the tension, but it doesn’t come out like one.

Cassian doesn’t disagree. He says, “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. I’ll believe we’re going when we’re on the plane. Until then…” he shrugs and takes another step closer.

He’s close enough that I can breathe him in. I want to reach up and run my hands down his chest, but I don’t. I just meet his gaze. “Aren’t we supposed to be working on trust? Trust me a little, Cass.”

“I trust you,” he says, and I note how his eyes dart to my lips for a split second. “But I also know you. You’re saying you want to go because you feel guilty, not because you’d rather be on vacation than here, working. I also know that when you’re stressed, it’s impossible for you to enjoy yourself or, you know, be pleasant.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “Promise me that we’re going, and that we’re going because it’s what you want to do, and that you won’t get sucked into work while we’re there.”

“I promise,” I say, and I allow myself to touch him now, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. “I promise I want to go and have this time with you.”

He searches my eyes for another minute before nodding, and his eyes are back to being bright and filled with excitement as a small smile twists his lips. His arms snake around my waist as he says, “Good.”

Making my promise more convincing, I kiss him.

Whatever tenuous hold my husband had on his self-control snapped, just like I expected it to.

He crushed me against his chest, his lips devouring mine. I wasn’t surprised when I felt his tongue against the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I parted for him, relishing in the feel of his kiss.

It had been so damn long since he kissed me like this.

My nails dug into his back as I kissed him back and before I knew it, he was cupping my ass, lifting me up and setting me down atop the counter. He no longer had to hunch over to kiss me, nearly the same height now and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.

Cassian stepped between my legs, tugging me toward the edge of the counter, his mouth still ravaging mine.

This passion, this heat between us was what had drawn us together in the first place. He was my match, my equal, as ravenous for me as I was for him. In ten years, that fire had never gone out.

Until it did. And that’s something I will never let happen again.

I gasped as Cassian ground himself against me, his length thick and hard, telling me that this was affecting him as much as it was me. The second I broke the kiss, his lips found my neck, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin there.

I moan, quietly, and his hands on my upper thighs tighten. My head falls to the side, giving him better access and he licks his way up the side of my neck until he’s nibbling at my jaw, then trailing back down until his mouth is sucking at my collarbone. My hands can’t stay still, can’t stay off of him, and I don’t even realize that they’re slipping beneath his shirt until he growls against my skin. I don’t give it a second thought. I pull his t-shirt up and he leans back, meeting my gaze as I pull it over his head and toss it aside. His lips are swollen and he’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild and full of lust. I lay my palms flat against his chest and run them down his stomach, my fingers running over every hard, defined muscle before I grab him by the waistband of his jeans and pull him back to me. 

My legs wrap around him, getting him as close to me as possible, as our mouths clash. There’s nothing holding us back, not anymore, not now. He’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe, and the throbbing between my thighs has become nearly unbearable. Needing any sort of friction, I rock my hips against him and he groans into my mouth as he pushes off my sweater and grabs my breasts through my t-shirt. 

Apparently not finding that good enough, my shirt is quickly removed, and it’s only then that Cassian’s mouth leaves mine. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. I’ve always known that my breasts were one of my husband’s favorite assets of mine, and I can’t even remember the last time he’s seen them. 

He makes a show of it, dropping my bra, releasing the hook and letting it fall. I sit still, letting him admire me. As he does, I glance down where I can see him perfectly outlined in his jeans, doing a little admiring myself.

His eyes, impossibly dark, rove over me, his hand clasping the back of my neck as he kisses me again. Then he’s lowering me back, down against cool marble of the countertop. My gasp as the shock of the cold surface presses into my skin has me throwing my head back and his lips are no longer near mine.

I feel his warm breath against my stomach, just beneath my belly button, and I freeze. He presses the gentlest, most unexpectedly sweet kiss to the slight dip there, before trailing upward with another and another.

I was so focused on his mouth that I didn’t notice his hands until one was cupping the swell of one full breast. Arching into him, I whimper softly when his fingers brush over my nipple, the sensitive bud tightening almost immediately under his touch. His thumb sweeps it the other way before his forefinger joins in, rolling it between them. I’m unable to stop my groan as I look down to find his eyes w bb already on mine.

And his lips hovering over my other breast.

With slow, restrained movements, Cassian lowers his mouth, letting his tongue drag over my nipple. Fighting to keep my eyes open, my hand dives into his hair, his own hand working my other breast in time with his tongue.

I curse, which only encourages him. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer as his teeth graze my nipple.

I shift beneath him, a curse on the tip of my tongue, but then my phone is vibrating on the counter a few feet away. Unable to help it, I glance over and see Eris’s name flashing across the screen.

Every thought I have leaves my mind. 

My first instinct is to reach for it, but I hesitate. Then again, if it’s something important, I need to know now. Especially considering we’re now going on this vacation and I have to get as much shit done as possible before we go. 

He must sense the fact that I’m distracted, because he looks up at me. “Ignore it.”

I should ignore it.

I know I should ignore it.

But whatever the hell Eris has to say is all I can think about. He rarely calls after my office hours, only with important news to relay. 

Cassian sucks my nipple between his lips once more as I say, “Cass.”

He freezes, his body tensing, and looks up at me again.

“Just…it’ll only be a minute.”

His brows furrow but then the recognition hits as I reach across the counter and grab my phone, just as it stops ringing. I sit up, moving Cassian away from me as I do. When I unlock my phone to call Eris back, Cassian speaks up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is quiet, his breathing still ragged. “Can’t this wait until we’re done?” 

“It’ll only be a minute,” I say, pleadingly. “I promise. Then we’ll pick up where we left off—”

“No.”

My thumb stills where it hovers above Eris’s contact information. His voice is still quiet, but there’s an edge to it. “No?”

“Don’t, not right now,” he says, and steps between my legs again. He palms my breasts as his lips find my neck.

“Cass, it’ll only be a minute.” The words barely leave me before my phone starts ringing again. Apparently Eris isn’t waiting for me to call him back. 

Against my better judgment, I answer the call.

The warmth of Cassian’s body on mine is gone immediately and he’s scooped his shirt off the floor and is headed for the living room before I can speak.

But that’s mostly because Eris doesn’t give me the chance.

“Checked your email lately?”

I blink. My email? What about my email could be so important he’s calling me so late? “No, I’ve been busy this evening. Why, what’s—?”

“Your extension has been approved.”

My entire being goes still. “Oh.”

Pulling my phone away from my ear, I quickly skimmed over the email sitting in my inbox.

I had emailed one of the reps for the publishing company earlier, asking about an extension on the release. Although Eris is usually the go-between between the company and I, I’ve always had a good relationship with them. I’ve never missed any major deadlines or had a delayed release, but only because Eris would never allow it. I wasn’t even sure what the process to officially request for one was.

So I sent an email asking for information.

Apparently, all I’d needed to do was inquire, with my stellar reputation with them.

I hadn’t mentioned it to Cassian because, like he said, I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.

“We don’t have time for an extension, Nesta.” He sounded calm, but I knew he was anything but.  He was likely pacing, AirPod in one ear, his fingers steepled together. It was his standard not happy pose. “You are not pushing back this release.”

“I have to,” I argue. “I have too much on my plate right now. I need more time.”

“Do you know what I need, Nes?” Unlike when Cassian shortened my name, I hated when Eris did it. It sounded condescending and it infuriated me. “I need the final ten chapters emailed to the editors by Tuesday. I need you to respond to the email I sent you about cover artwork for the special edition we’re releasing later this year. I need you to get to work and leave the publishers to me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And if I say I can’t do that?”

“You will,” he says, tone final, and hangs up.

I sigh, dropping my phone on the counter. My hands rub down my face before I look back up, expecting to see my husband there.

But he’s not.

I didn’t even notice that he had left the room.

“Cassian?”

He doesn’t respond.

And later that night, he never comes to bed. 

[ameagrice]

Young Years

chapter two | your name, again?

THE LAST OF US

tommy miller x fem reader

The smell of food gave you something to focus on in this new environment.

At your side, with his sleeves rolled up as he digs in, Freddie practically wolfs down a cheeseburger and fries. You’re worried he might make himself sick—or worse, he has an allergy you haven’t had the chance to know about before now. But he seems to like the food, judging on his speed as he eats, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to slow down.

Maria sits opposite you with another girl, younger than the both of you, maybe a teenager early in her years. She’s talking about all the things you and Freddie can do here, the school, the electricity powered by the dam you passed on your way up, but it’s turning into background noise the longer you sit and eat, and something inside you is desperately trying to claw its way to the surface, screaming for a bit of quiet and solitude.

Seven months of habits is hard to break.

Maria calls your name, and your eyes drift up from the table to her own. She smiles at you kindly, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t exactly place. Something’s off.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asks gently, tilting her head a little as she talks. The girl at her side, Mary, you think she’s called, nods along like she’s a part of whatever the hell this is. You wish she’d go away and leave you adults to talk. “Usually with new folks we come here first to talk and then sort out the housing and such. But you looked pretty stressed before—I thought it would be better to get yourself and Freddie somewhere quiet.”

You nodded slowly, picking at your fries. Not one of them is cold or burned. They’re a perfect golden color and crisped just right.

“I guess it’s just, like, weird. You know—we’ve all been trying to get by surrounded by FEDRA day in day out living off of shitty rations cards while this perfect little hideout looks like it hasn’t changed since 2003. Can’t help but feel a little fucking jealous of you all, if I’m honest.” You snapped. Irritation bloomed in you.

If Maria was offended with your choice of tone and words, she didn’t show it at all. She sighed, and sat up straighter in her chair. “You’re allowed to be angry. I can’t imagine how much worse it’s gotten out there—”

“Oh, lucky you,” you snap, shoving a fry in your mouth.

“But you’re safe here. Freddie is safe here. You’re allowed to take this time to—”

“Start over?” You finish her sentence. Now she looks like she’s holding back her words. Maria’s lips are pressed tightly together. “There’s no starting over any of this. All we can do is keep going. Right? Unless you’ve got a fuckin’ time machine hiding somewhere ‘round here, too?”

A silence came over the table. Around you all, people talked and laughed, oblivious to the mental distress taking over you.

“Mom, what’s a time machine?”

—

If dinner was stressful, bed time was even worse.

And not only for you.

Getting Freddie into the shower was easy enough. Getting his pyjamas sorted and hair combed was easy enough too. But the problems began there.

Eight p.m. The sheets were too soft. The mattress wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel the wind on his cheeks anymore. All these things he wasn’t accustomed to after growing up in a draughty apartment in the QZ, and the rough sleeping against sides of mountains and on dewy, ferny woodland ground, became uncomfortable. It was a painful reminder that nothing in your son’s life had been normal up to this point.

“Come on, Freddie,” you muttered, shifting him into your arms. “Mom’s tired, too.”

His head rested on your shoulder, soft breaths fanning the skin of your neck. Mom brain was in motion, willing to do anything to make your son feel better. He was used to nature at night, so you turned the lights off and used moonlight through the now-open window to guide your way. The cool breeze hit the both of you, and only you shivered—Freddie was wrapped up in the coat you’d worn since your arrival this morning.

Your nightly routine while travelling had been pretty consistent. You’d make sure Freddie ate and drank something before settling down for the night. You’d wrap him up tight and he’d scoot down into the sleeping back with you, both for comfort for you both and for protection. He’d be out like a light, unknowing of the majority of the dangers that could come for you at any time. The blissfulness of childhood ignorance.

Ten o’clock, hips aching from shifting side to side to settle him, you moved him to the bed which was surprisingly very comfortable—Freddie simply hadn’t had the life you had. To this five-year-old, the ground was a beautiful bed, and the actual bed wasn’t welcoming. You closed the window and the curtains, and left the room, door open to hear him if he called out.

And now came the hardest part.

Leaving Freddie be.

You could have slept and gotten in some good rest of your own, you maybe read a book or tried to see if the television worked.

You instead checked on Freddie every five minutes, unaccustomed to this sudden change in lifestyle. In the QZ, it had been the two of you for almost the whole of his life. When you decided to leave, you had become his No.1 constant day in, day out. So not only did the quietude of this new home shock you to the core, but allowing your son his own space to sleep and

By the time the sun was up and kids were walking the street to school—a very foreign thing to you after so long—you hadn’t slept one bit. And of course, Freddie was wide awake.

—

A week passed. The snow fell here and there, but gradually the cold air started to decrease. Weirdly enough, you quickly became accustomed to the ways of this weird little community.

More importantly, it’s people.

Maria turned up one morning to ‘see how you were’. You had a suspicion that she just wanted to know you hadn’t up and left or worse. Deciding the woman seemed nice enough so far, you invited her in. While Freddie played in his room, obsessed with the dinosaur toys left behind, Maria and yourself talked about your future in the community.

“It would really be good for the both of you to perhaps be involved in things going on,” Maria gently advised. She took a sip of the glass of water in her hands. “Freddie could talk to some other kids his age, and you could meet new people again. It won’t be easy, I know.”

You had to agree. You’d spent the past week cleaning, moving things around, and checking out the stores with Freddie attached to your hip. You’d finally gotten some semblance of ‘normality’ back after the past decade—hell, you had fresh groceries in the refrigerator in the kitchen, all complimentary for newcomers, apparently, clearly not having your own some sort of income yet. And in the midst of all the moving around and sorting things out, you began to crave adult talk, the company of likeminded others your age. You wanted terribly for Freddie to have friends of his own once more, to play and laugh like children should do.

“Well,” you started, raising your own glass to your mouth. “How do I even start? I don’t know where to start, Maria.”

As if the woman had expected the conversation to flow this way, she began expressing ideas almost instantly. “There’s a movie on most Sunday nights in the hall. They switch it up every week; kids ones to teens and adults and such. It gets a lot of attention, attracts a lot of people. It’s a good place to start. Try to remember that the majority of the people here have been in your place. Myself included. When you come to terms with that it all gets easier.”

—

“So where are you from originally?”

“Arizona.” Your eyes swept the crowd of kids in to the side of you all sitting on chairs in front of the big screen showing an old, old episode of Tom & Jerry on a projector.

“Right, right.”

You felt a little bad that this man was trying to get a conversation out of you, with little in return, more interested in your son sitting with a little girl about his age whom Maria had introduced him to. With a few tears, Freddie had eventually agreed to sit and watch the episode with her, and so far, seemed to be enjoying it. You spied the back of his curly blond head amidst the other kids.

Your first impression of the commune hall was that it was big. Tall, with worn and faded wooden flooring, string bulb lights strung across the ceiling and around the room for light. The bar yourself and this man were standing at was located at the back of the room, between people talking, adults making fun of silly things in the Tom & Jerry episode like children, or simply just drinking.

This man had been the first person to talk to you. The first person Maria introduced you to, and the first person you wanted nothing more than to shy away from.

“You’re kinda quiet,” he said. You shifted your gaze back to him.

“I just spent seven months on my own,. Sorry if it’s a little hard to make conversation.” You snapped, and took a sip of the liquid in your glass—hot chocolate. Now, that was one thing making the whole ordeal bearable. Living off of water and watered-down fruit juice in the zone for years made this hot chocolate, creamy and topped with marshmallows, your ideal heaven. Where the hell did they get this stuff from?

“Don’t get mad at me, girly. Just tryna talk.”

You whipped your head to him, frowning. “Did it not occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk?”

The man laughed and whistled, grinning in a way that told you plainly he wasn’t going away. This tall, broad-shouldered man in the heavy grey jacket was taking your biting words for playing hard to get, and you hated it.

He turned so his back was to the bar, and your shot him a filthy look in the process. “So,” he spoke again, and you took no shame in visibly rolling your eyes. “That boy you came in with. He your son?”

Now, you really did flip. “It’s none of your fucking business, and I think you should fucking go.”

“I think you should watch your tongue, little lady.” He barked straight back. You raised your eyes to his. They were hard, bright blue, and sent a horrible jolt through your body. “Now, I understand—”

A hand clapped on his arm, and you shifted your hip off of the bar to leave. If this was one of his friends, you didn’t want to stick around for more.

“What’s goin’ on, Garrett?” He greeted, pushing between the two of you. You scoffed under your breath and stepped a good few paces away from him.

The way this man switched up made your insides freeze. Garrett slapped the other man on the back, laughing like he’d told a good fucking joke. “Not a lot, not a lot. I was just headin’ out.”

“Oh, right. Hey, it was good to see you, man.”

“You too, Tom. I’ll see you in the morning. You still gonna be working on the stables?”

“You bet,” the man at your side laughed, though it sounded a little forced.

Garrett picked up his glass, saying a quick goodbye to a couple of guys on his way out. You watched him go, making sure the door shut behind him.

“I’m really sorry about him,” the remaining man spoke. You watched Freddie, trying not to pay him any attention. “He’s…well, you just saw how he is. It’s probably not what you wanted to happen tonight.”

You simply hummed, hoping he’d take it as a sign to leave. You weren’t interested.

“Has Maria shown you around yet?” He poked. “Usually she takes newcomers on a tour of the place their first day.”

You took a breath. If he so much as offered to take you back to his place for a tour he’d be getting socked across the face with your mug before he could take another breath.

“No. She hasn’t. Haven’t been that interested in looking around until tonight.”

There was a sound of clothes ruffling, and then in the corner of your eye, you saw him lean his elbow on the bar. “The name’s Tommy. Miller.”

You turned, and looked at him. And your eyes wandered.

His dark hair, gently curled here and there but wavy overall, rested at the white fur-lined collar of his black jacket. His eyes were dark, maybe a very dark brown but you were unable to tell properly because of the lighting. The thing that slowed your heart wasn’t his good-looks, his tanned skin and dotting of freckles on his face. It wasn’t that he looked sweetly mischievous, and old enough to be mature with the facial hair on his upper lip. It was those eyes—those goddamn, calm-looking eyes.

You could tell a lot about a person from the eyes. And his said he wouldn’t be trouble.

So, you told him your name. And he smiled.

“It’s good to meet you,” Tommy said. He raised his glass to his lips. “Shame we had to meet under Garrett’s circumstances,” he side-eyed the door.

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “I was ready to start throwing punches.”

“Well, now you’ve told him straight, I doubt he’ll try anything again.”

“What makes you so sure?” You pried. The full lights were beginning to turn back on slowly, and the kids starting to stand up. The episode had finished. Where was Freddie?…

Tommy laughed shortly, breathily. “Garret’s the type’a guy to try his luck the first time, and when his ego’s hurt, he won’t do it again.”

“Shocker. Usually those types of guys won’t take no for an answer.” You searched the crowd of children for your own, heart rate beginning to spike. Tommy was unaware of your internal panic. He kept talking.

“Trust me, he won’t be coming back to bother you. He also has a wife, so…”

In the back of your mind, something perked up and you shot Tommy a quick look, placing your cup down on the bar. “Seriously?” And seriously, where was Freddie?

He shook his head of dark hair, swigging the last drops in his glass. “Oh, yeah. And his wife knows he does it. We all got a suspicion that she won’t be with him much longer.”

“Good for her,” you mumbled absently. “I wouldn’t want to be with him either. Look, Tommy, it was nice to meet you but I got—”

“Mom! I just watched Jerry and Tom for the first time!”

You yelped and pressed your hand to your chest in shock. Tommy was looking down, and when you did, Freddie was standing in front of you with a face covered in chocolate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” You smiled, covering your worries. “Who gave you the chocolate, dude?”

“Maria!” He giggled. “She said it’s called milk chocolate, but chocolate’s hard and milk is like water. I don’t get it.”

You looked around the bar for a tissue, and found them by Tommy’s elbow. Realising what you were looking for, the man handed one over to you, and you smiled in thanks, kneeling down to wipe the sticky remnants of sweetness off of Freddie’s mouth and cheeks. He squirmed away as you licked the tissue and tried wiping again.

“Mom,” he whined.

You stood up again. Tommy was drinking another full glass of some dark liquid, probably alcoholic, and took it as your cue to leave.

“We’re gonna get going,” you said, wrapping your arms over Freddie’s front to hold him to you. “But it was nice meeting you, Tommy.”

You trekked home through the still-busy streets, other people doing the same after the movie night. A couple of drunk guys stumble and laugh boisterously, hanging off of one another ahead of you, and you clutch Freddie’s hand even tighter as he stumbles along tiredly.

Once home, you unlock the door and usher Freddie in first, flicking on the lights, still mildly surprised when they actually turn on. Freddie runs to his room to change into some pyjamas—one of the only two pairs he had that you brought from your old apartment. You set about making a fire in the living room and getting the place warmed up.

Freddie’s little footsteps patter in soon enough, just as you’re wiping coal dust off your hands and onto your jeans.

Behind you, he says, “Mom, who was that man?”

You already know who it is he’s referring to.

“That,” you stand with a sigh, back aching, “was Tommy.”

“Oh.” He climbs onto the sofa and curls up in the corner of it.

You set about getting things ready for bed. There’s no use in trying to get him to brush his teeth before he goes to sleep, you realise—he’s already halfway there. With the curtains closed, the door locked, and you’ve done a full sweep search of the house ensuring nobody and nothing’s inside who shouldn’t be, you head back into the living room.

There’s a kind of mom instinct, you know, that just helps you to know things. You know when your child is in danger. You know when they’re upset and not saying anything. And you know when they need you even when they don’t say it.

You lay down next to your son, who instantly curls into you, his breath tickling your chest. With your cheek on his head, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his shoulder, you close your eyes.

Tommy Miller’s name floats around your head.

Taglist (comment or message if you’d like to be added!)

@mimi-luvzyu

[jeniffercheck]

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.

[vinegar-on-main]

SACRED STONES FIC UPON THEE. throws this at you like a wet trout. welcome to the fic where rennac has a not fun time

Rennac often wondered if being forsaken to a horde of giant spiders would’ve been a kinder fate.

Sure, the whole ‘deadly venom and very, very large fangs’ would’ve probably added together for a… less than pleasant final experience, but anything would’ve been preferable to-

“Rennac! Don’t fall behind, now!”

An all-top-familiar meaty hand slapping much too hard on his back snapped Rennac out of his trance. Fantastic. Dozla.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Rennac sighed as he picked up his pace. He wasn’t even aware of where they were headed, just that they were going somewhere. Not that the two of them ever told him anything. L’Arachel just seemed to have some sort of ‘intuition’ as to wherever the next ‘foul, unholy beast we have to smite from this land!’ would be, as she always put it. Not to mention he still hasn’t gotten any word out of her as to when he would be getting his pay…

A sharp gasp from L’Arachel got both his and Dozla’s attention “Look, you two!” She cried, pointing at a rather small collection of towns past the cliffside. What was she…

Ah. Monsters. Right. There were a veritable horde of beasts running amok on the plains below. Revenants, skeletons… floating eyes? That was a new one. More importantly, there were people actually fighting them.

Not just some random townsfolk who were stupid enough to try to fend them off with sticks, either. Actual soldiers and cavalries and mages and everything. They seemed to have the situation under control, and he’d rather not dull his knife if had t-

“Gwah-ha-ha! Seems like we’ve got a few beasties to wipe out, eh, Lady L’Arachel?” Dozla boomed, axe primed in hand. Joy. Guess this was their latest little detour.

“Indeed, Dozla! Come, let’s rush down these cliffs and save those poor folk from these agents of evil!” L’Arachel yelled, as if tumbling down a cliff on horseback was the most reasonable idea anyone had ever thought of.

“We go down these cliffs and the only thing we’ll be rushing to is an early death.” Rennac reminded her. “How about we find a nicer, less rocky and dangerous path down, hm?”

L’Arachel sheepishly drew back the reins of her horse. “Ah… right. Well. Let’s hurry regardless! We cannot leave these poor folk to the wrath of these beasts!” And with that, she hurtled towards the nearest path, charging down with Dozla is close pursuit.

Why was it always running with these two? Would it kill them to walk somewhere for once?!

Rennac heaved a sigh and hurried after the pair. This job would pay well, if nothing else. The SECOND he got his payment from L’Arachel when they reach Renais, he was gone. If he hadn’t ditched them by then, that is…

———————————————————

“To arms, you layabouts! We’re under attack!”

Seems like things were heating up. Rennac idled in the back of the barracks while the castle soldier barked orders at the rest of the group. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to whatever he was saying, far more interested in the (hopefully) priceless treasures he was certain were nearby. He just had to find a chance to sneak off…

“You there! Quit lazing about! The enemy will be upon us any minute!” Said soldier suddenly shouted. Ah. He was barking at him.

“Hm? No, no, you must be mistaken. Fighting wasn’t a part of the job descr-“

“Quit yapping and just grab something! Not that there’ll be much for you layabouts to do after we’re through, heh.” The soldier sneered as he hurried to get prepared. Whatever boosted his ego.

Rennac didn’t have much faith in the soldiers he had seen so far, but they would hopefully hold off any enemies long enough for him to work through a chest or seven and slip away unnoticed. He-“…only had a key, this wouldn’t be such an issue…”Hm? Was that a… voice? It was coming from the other side of the door to outside… Rennac creeped towards it to listen in.“Hm…. flimsy hinges… mostly wood… we don’t need a key for this.” A new voice this time. Were they trying to break in? That was an issue.

He wasn’t the only one to think this, seemingly, as a few other guards took notice of the voices and warily primed their weapons.“What do you mean we don’t-““Stand back, Artur. I know what to do.”Rennac took a good few dozen steps away from the entrance.“wh- LUTE NO-“Smart of him to do that, for just a moment later the door exploded off its hinges and down the hall in a fiery burst, leaving behind a smoldering entrance with one very satisfied-looking sage (and an equally shocked bishop) staring down the new entrance, Elfire tome gripped tightly in one of the sage’s hand with their other extended in a clear post-door-exploding position.

A few soldiers weren’t as quick to move out of the way as Rennac was and were now desperately trying to writhe their way out of the fiery remains of the door.“Lute, I think Colm just got the k-" the bishop started, before the sage quickly interjected.“Too late, door’s gone, let’s move. Besides, we can use that key later now. I'm just being efficient." The sage shrugged, as if this was perfectly sound logic.

While these two new obstructions were bickering (and what sounded like many more of them just outside of the door were getting prepared), Rennac figured now was as good a time as any to bolt.

He was either getting his ‘pay’ and booking it now, or be on the receiving end of an Elfire tome, which didnt sound particularly inviting. Now, he would just need to be quick with picking the nearby door and he’d be home fr-

A sickeningly familiar voice suddenly boomed through the barracks and stopped him in his tracks.

“Cower, wrongdoers! Salvation rides forth!”

Oh no.

No, no, no, not now, not HERE, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t, how would she-

“Oh! Rennac, there you are!”

He would pay any amount of money to die right then and there. Standing right before him was L’Arachel.

“What in heavens are you doing here? Dozla and I thought you simply wandered off and got lost, but not *this* lost!” L’Arachel glanced around the room, as if his reason for deserting them was simply hung up on the walls along with all the rusted spears. Rennac sometimes wondered if the goddess enjoyed seeing him suffer personally.

“Well, uh… I-it’s a bit compl-“ Rennac started before L’Arachel, like usual, interjected.

“Well, we can worry about your navigation skills later. We have work to do! Come with me!”

“I-What? No! Listen, Princess, I’m NOT working for you. The Grado Empire’s hired me. I’m your ENEMY.”

L’Arachel… laughed. That shrill, haughty laugh that haunted his worst nightmares.

“Oh, that was one of your better ones, Rennac! You’ll have to share that with Dozla once we finish here! Hurry now, the queen won’t simply save herself!”

L’arachel grasped Rennac’s arm, her grip shockingly tight. This lady scared him.

“Wh-No! What isn’t getting across here?!” Rennac objected, barely being able to squirm out of her grasp. “What part of ‘I’m not working for you anymore’ are you not understanding!?”

L’Arachel tilted her head to the side seemingly bewildered. “…Is this about your pay, again? I told you, my father will compensate you in full once we reach Rausten!”

“That was NOT our deal!! You were supposed to pay me in ADV-“

“Later, Rennac! Hurry, help me handle some of these soldiers!”

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO- annnnd there she goes.” Rennac groaned as L’Arachel galloped down the hall, her horse flattening a good few slow-witted soldiers.

He mumbled as many curses as he knew under his breath as he hurried after her. Goddess, he was going to have to learn to get through that thick skull of hers before it killed him.

Eirika had observed the entire argument from the entrance hole where the door used to be, and turned to Dozla, thoroughly unsure what to think about the apparent recruitment she just witnessed.

“Are they… always like this?” She inquired.

“Hm?” Dozla turned towards her. “Ah, Rennac’s just a bit prickly around Lady L’arachel! Pay ‘em no mind. Heck, that was one of their quicker squabbles! Gwah-hah!”

“…Right.”

———————————————————

Rennac poked at the fireplace with a nearby stick, before tossing it in once it lit.

The commander, whatever her name was, decided they would set up camp and rest for the night before liberating Castle Renais in the morning. Not that he particularly cared.

They just had to do that, then hopefully he could finally drop the brat L’Arachel off at Rausten, get his ample compensation, and never have to see her again. Wouldn’t that be nice.

Goddess, what was he doing with his life? Here he was, a master thief, pilferer of treasures the continent over, a vagabond drifting wherever the wind took him…

Getting dragged around by some bossy princess and her meathead bodyguard halfway across the continent with a bunch of weirdos and nobodys who were all trying to get chummy with him.

Maybe he should just jump into the nearest river and hope the currents take him somewhere nicer.

“Hey.”

“GAH?!”

Rennac practically jumped out of his skin, swiveling around to see-

Oh. It was just that sage girl who blew up the door. Not someone sneaking up to plunge a dagger in his back for… the many reasons a lot of different people would want to do that. (Thievery doesn’t exactly make you a lot of friends.)

“…can I help you?” Rennac asked, slowly reverting from his startled-wilderness-animal pose.

“Why are you out here all by yourself? Everyone else is inside.” She questioned as she took a seat next to him on the log, lazily swishing an ember between her fingers.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

Lute shrugged. “It’s loud. I like eating out here. Sometimes deer walk by. I give them bits of the food sometimes. We have a professional relationship.”

“Fascinating.”Rennac mumbled as he looked for absolutely anything in the nearby area to focus on instead of this conversation. “Is there a particular reason you came here to bother me or did you just want to brag about your deer friends?”

“There is, actually. You fascinate me.”

What.

“What?”

“That L’arachel lady. I can hear you grumbling about her under your breath all the time, yet you’re at her beck and call. Why is that?”

Great. Guess he was explaining his curse to some random kid today.

“That- She’s my employer. That’s the ONLY reason I’m sticking with them. Once I get my pay, I can die happy never seeing her again.”

“Hm. You didn’t seem very happy to meet her when we found you in Jehanna Hall.” Lute took a bite out of an apple she had brought with her.

“That’s because I don’t like her. That mercenary job for Grado was supposed to be my ESCAPE from her, but there she comes, barging through the doors! And there I stupidly thought I got rid of her.”

“Better than whatever the Grado Army would’ve done with you if you stayed with them.”

“…what?” Rennac tilted his head slightly. The hell did this kid know about the Grado Army?

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Most random mercenaries who the Grado Army empire aren’t especially well treated once the bloodshed is over. And, of course, they don’t want people getting away with essential secrets of how the army strategizes and advances. I’ve heard that most are thrown in dungeons to rot, or ‘conveniently’ caught up in the chaos of battles and skewered by someone by some Grado troop. And I wouldn’t think they would trust a thief any more than any other mercenary.” Lute recited flatly as if it was common knowledge.

“If anything, L’arachel probably saved you from whatever they would’ve done to you. You should count yourself lucky.”

L’arachel saved him.

L’arachel rescued him.

The brat whose existence he had cursed tenfold every day was the reason he was alive today. He would never be free from her.

Rennac crumpled inwards into a very tiny ball, gripping his hair with the rage of a thousand suns. He would scream, but his vocal cords were failing him at the moment.

Lute leaned down slightly to look at him again, taking another chomp from her apple.

“Oh, do you know the loud one with the axe? He mentioned your name a few times. He’s quite good at cutting apples.”

A very, very quiet sob leaked out of the tight ball Rennac had become.

“I will take that as a yes. My condolences.”

And off Lute wandered, turning in for the night while Rennac sat in front of the fireplace for a very, very long time, contemplating the lot he had drawn in life.

Deep down, he had a horrible, terrible premonition that he would never quite get away from the princess of Rausten. Just his awful, rotten luck.

EATING THIS UP LIKE A DELECTABLE TREAT

i love the spotlight on Rennac of all people, and of COURSE lute has to be here. we have to have the silly mages!!!!

just a good fic

[crabknight]

WOE. SACRED STONES FIC I FINALLY FINISHED UPON THEE. welcome to rennac's horrible awful no good very bad week

Rennac often wondered if being forsaken to a horde of giant spiders would’ve been a kinder fate.

Sure, the whole ‘deadly venom and very, very large fangs’ would’ve probably added together for a… less than pleasant final experience, but anything would’ve been preferable to-

“Rennac! Don’t fall behind, now!”

An all-top-familiar meaty hand slapping much too hard on his back snapped Rennac out of his trance. Fantastic. Dozla.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Rennac sighed as he picked up his pace. He wasn’t even aware of where they were headed, just that they were going somewhere. Not that the two of them ever told him anything. L’Arachel just seemed to have some sort of ‘intuition’ as to wherever the next ‘foul, unholy beast we have to smite from this land!’ would be, as she always put it. Not to mention he still hasn’t gotten any word out of her as to when he would be getting his pay…

A sharp gasp from L’Arachel got both his and Dozla’s attention “Look, you two!” She cried, pointing at a rather small collection of towns past the cliffside. What was she…

Ah. Monsters. Right. There were a veritable horde of beasts running amok on the plains below. Revenants, skeletons… floating eyes? That was a new one. More importantly, there were people actually fighting them.

Not just some random townsfolk who were stupid enough to try to fend them off with sticks, either. Actual soldiers and cavalries and mages and everything. They seemed to have the situation under control, and he’d rather not dull his knife if had t-

“Gwah-ha-ha! Seems like we’ve got a few beasties to wipe out, eh, Lady L’Arachel?” Dozla boomed, axe primed in hand. Joy. Guess this was their latest little detour.

“Indeed, Dozla! Come, let’s rush down these cliffs and save those poor folk from these agents of evil!” L’Arachel yelled, as if tumbling down a cliff on horseback was the most reasonable idea anyone had ever thought of.

“We go down these cliffs and the only thing we’ll be rushing to is an early death.” Rennac reminded her. “How about we find a nicer, less rocky and dangerous path down, hm?”

L’Arachel sheepishly drew back the reins of her horse. “Ah… right. Well. Let’s hurry regardless! We cannot leave these poor folk to the wrath of these beasts!” And with that, she hurtled towards the nearest path, charging down with Dozla is close pursuit.

Why was it always running with these two? Would it kill them to walk somewhere for once?!

Rennac heaved a sigh and hurried after the pair. This job would pay well, if nothing else. The SECOND he got his payment from L’Arachel when they reach Renais, he was gone. If he hadn’t ditched them by then, that is…

———————————————————

“To arms, you layabouts! We’re under attack!”

Seems like things were heating up. Rennac idled in the back of the barracks while the castle soldier barked orders at the rest of the group. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to whatever he was saying, far more interested in the (hopefully) priceless treasures he was certain were nearby. He just had to find a chance to sneak off…

“You there! Quit lazing about! The enemy will be upon us any minute!” Said soldier suddenly shouted. Ah. He was barking at him.

“Hm? No, no, you must be mistaken. Fighting wasn’t a part of the job descr-“

“Quit yapping and just grab something! Not that there’ll be much for you layabouts to do after we’re through, heh.�� The soldier sneered as he hurried to get prepared. Whatever boosted his ego.

Rennac didn’t have much faith in the soldiers he had seen so far, but they would hopefully hold off any enemies long enough for him to work through a chest or seven and slip away unnoticed. He-“…only had a key, this wouldn’t be such an issue…”Hm? Was that a… voice? It was coming from the other side of the door to outside… Rennac creeped towards it to listen in.“Hm…. flimsy hinges… mostly wood… we don’t need a key for this.” A new voice this time. Were they trying to break in? That was an issue.

He wasn’t the only one to think this, seemingly, as a few other guards took notice of the voices and warily primed their weapons.“What do you mean we don’t-““Stand back, Artur. I know what to do.”Rennac took a good few dozen steps away from the entrance.“wh- LUTE NO-“Smart of him to do that, for just a moment later the door exploded off its hinges and down the hall in a fiery burst, leaving behind a smoldering entrance with one very satisfied-looking sage (and an equally shocked bishop) staring down the new entrance, Elfire tome gripped tightly in one of the sage’s hand with their other extended in a clear post-door-exploding position.

A few soldiers weren’t as quick to move out of the way as Rennac was and were now desperately trying to writhe their way out of the fiery remains of the door.“Lute, I think Colm just got the k-" the bishop started, before the sage quickly interjected.“Too late, door’s gone, let’s move. Besides, we can use that key later now. I'm just being efficient." The sage shrugged, as if this was perfectly sound logic.

While these two new obstructions were bickering (and what sounded like many more of them just outside of the door were getting prepared), Rennac figured now was as good a time as any to bolt.

He was either getting his ‘pay’ and booking it now, or be on the receiving end of an Elfire tome, which didnt sound particularly inviting. Now, he would just need to be quick with picking the nearby door and he’d be home fr-

A sickeningly familiar voice suddenly boomed through the barracks and stopped him in his tracks.

“Cower, wrongdoers! Salvation rides forth!”

Oh no.

No, no, no, not now, not HERE, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t, how would she-

“Oh! Rennac, there you are!”

He would pay any amount of money to die right then and there. Standing right before him was L’Arachel.

“What in heavens are you doing here? Dozla and I thought you simply wandered off and got lost, but not *this* lost!” L’Arachel glanced around the room, as if his reason for deserting them was simply hung up on the walls along with all the rusted spears. Rennac sometimes wondered if the goddess enjoyed seeing him suffer personally.

“Well, uh… I-it’s a bit compl-“ Rennac started before L’Arachel, like usual, interjected.

“Well, we can worry about your navigation skills later. We have work to do! Come with me!”

“I-What? No! Listen, Princess, I’m NOT working for you. The Grado Empire’s hired me. I’m your ENEMY.”

L’Arachel… laughed. That shrill, haughty laugh that haunted his worst nightmares.

“Oh, that was one of your better ones, Rennac! You’ll have to share that with Dozla once we finish here! Hurry now, the queen won’t simply save herself!”

L’arachel grasped Rennac’s arm, her grip shockingly tight. This lady scared him.

“Wh-No! What isn’t getting across here?!” Rennac objected, barely being able to squirm out of her grasp. “What part of ‘I’m not working for you anymore’ are you not understanding!?”

L’Arachel tilted her head to the side seemingly bewildered. “…Is this about your pay, again? I told you, my father will compensate you in full once we reach Rausten!”

“That was NOT our deal!! You were supposed to pay me in ADV-“

“Later, Rennac! Hurry, help me handle some of these soldiers!”

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO- annnnd there she goes.” Rennac groaned as L’Arachel galloped down the hall, her horse flattening a good few slow-witted soldiers.

He mumbled as many curses as he knew under his breath as he hurried after her. Goddess, he was going to have to learn to get through that thick skull of hers before it killed him.

Eirika had observed the entire argument from the entrance hole where the door used to be, and turned to Dozla, thoroughly unsure what to think about the apparent recruitment she just witnessed.

“Are they… always like this?” She inquired.

“Hm?” Dozla turned towards her. “Ah, Rennac’s just a bit prickly around Lady L’arachel! Pay ‘em no mind. Heck, that was one of their quicker squabbles! Gwah-hah!”

“…Right.”

———————————————————

Rennac poked at the fireplace with a nearby stick, before tossing it in once it lit.

The commander, whatever her name was, decided they would set up camp and rest for the night before liberating Castle Renais in the morning. Not that he particularly cared.

They just had to do that, then hopefully he could finally drop the brat L’Arachel off at Rausten, get his ample compensation, and never have to see her again. Wouldn’t that be nice.

Goddess, what was he doing with his life? Here he was, a master thief, pilferer of treasures the continent over, a vagabond drifting wherever the wind took him…

Getting dragged around by some bossy princess and her meathead bodyguard halfway across the continent with a bunch of weirdos and nobodys who were all trying to get chummy with him.

Maybe he should just jump into the nearest river and hope the currents take him somewhere nicer.

“Hey.”

“GAH?!”

Rennac practically jumped out of his skin, swiveling around to see-

Oh. It was just that sage girl who blew up the door. Not someone sneaking up to plunge a dagger in his back for… the many reasons a lot of different people would want to do that. (Thievery doesn’t exactly make you a lot of friends.)

“…can I help you?” Rennac asked, slowly reverting from his startled-wilderness-animal pose.

“Why are you out here all by yourself? Everyone else is inside.” She questioned as she took a seat next to him on the log, lazily swishing an ember between her fingers.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

Lute shrugged. “It’s loud. I like eating out here. Sometimes deer walk by. I give them bits of the food sometimes. We have a professional relationship.”

“Fascinating.”Rennac mumbled as he looked for absolutely anything in the nearby area to focus on instead of this conversation. “Is there a particular reason you came here to bother me or did you just want to brag about your deer friends?”

“There is, actually. You fascinate me.”

What.

“What?”

“That L’arachel lady. I can hear you grumbling about her under your breath all the time, yet you’re at her beck and call. Why is that?”

Great. Guess he was explaining his curse to some random kid today.

“That- She’s my employer. That’s the ONLY reason I’m sticking with them. Once I get my pay, I can die happy never seeing her again.”

“Hm. You didn’t seem very happy to meet her when we found you in Jehanna Hall.” Lute took a bite out of an apple she had brought with her.

“That’s because I don’t like her. That mercenary job for Grado was supposed to be my ESCAPE from her, but there she comes, barging through the doors! And there I stupidly thought I got rid of her.”

“Better than whatever the Grado Army would’ve done with you if you stayed with them.”

“…what?” Rennac tilted his head slightly. The hell did this kid know about the Grado Army?

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Most random mercenaries who the Grado Army empire aren’t especially well treated once the bloodshed is over. And, of course, they don’t want people getting away with essential secrets of how the army strategizes and advances. I’ve heard that most are thrown in dungeons to rot, or ‘conveniently’ caught up in the chaos of battles and skewered by someone by some Grado troop. And I wouldn’t think they would trust a thief any more than any other mercenary.” Lute recited flatly as if it was common knowledge.

“If anything, L’arachel probably saved you from whatever they would’ve done to you. You should count yourself lucky.”

L’arachel saved him.

L’arachel rescued him.

The brat whose existence he had cursed tenfold every day was the reason he was alive today. He would never be free from her.

Rennac crumpled inwards into a very tiny ball, gripping his hair with the rage of a thousand suns. He would scream, but his vocal cords were failing him at the moment.

Lute leaned down slightly to look at him again, taking another chomp from her apple.

“Oh, do you know the loud one with the axe? He mentioned your name a few times. He’s quite good at cutting apples.”

A very, very quiet sob leaked out of the tight ball Rennac had become.

“I will take that as a yes. My condolences.”

And off Lute wandered, turning in for the night while Rennac sat in front of the fireplace for a very, very long time, contemplating the lot he had drawn in life.

Deep down, he had a horrible, terrible premonition that he would never quite get away from the princess of Rausten. Just his awful, rotten luck.

Mmmm yes quite, quite

Very good, i like this a lot, you captured the characters very well, and I like that i can tell which chapters it was that you have chapters the scenes take place in

[lavenderpanic]

Deleted Scenes from Chapter 10 of I Am Ash From Your Fire

I took a few scenes out because they didn't fit cohesively, so I'm going to post them here. NOTE: These are part of a bigger fic, this is not a standalone fic and will not make sense if you aren't familiar with the rest of the fic, all warnings from Chapter 10 apply to these excerpts.

“Something’s seriously wrong,” Steve sighs exasperatedly, pausing in his pacing just long enough to look at Sam and Natasha. “Wanda said he just… quit. No explanation. She said she could tell Brock was there, instructing him on what to say.”

“What can we do?” Natasha sighs, hugging the pillow cradled to her chest even tighter. “We can’t call the police, obviously, and even if we could, Bucky doesn’t seem to want to leave.”

“He’s obviously being abused, who gives a shit what he says?”

Sam lets out a belabored groan. “Steve, if he says he wants is, that’s it. He’s already on record talking to doctors and social workers saying he consents to whatever Brock does. If they both agree that they want it, there’s not much we can do.”

“We need to get to Bucky,” Natasha says gently. “He needs to realize, without being forced, that he has to leave.”

Steve scoffs lightly, continuing his feverish pace from one side of his apartment to the other. “Yeah, real easy when he’s locked at home all day, no way to contact him. I mean, I’ve seen the shape he’s in after Brock hurts him, how much worse does it have to get before he realizes? I don’t think it can get any worse.”

“He has to leave his apartment at some point,” Sam reasons. “And Brock’s a cop, there must be times he’s out and Bucky’s alone.”

“There’s cameras,” Natasha shakes her head. “He’d recognize us if he saw us, Sam, probably you too, Steve. But you’re right, maybe Bucky does go somewhere during the day.”

Steve’s pacing slows down as he tries to think of places Bucky might go in his free time. “He told me he’s been going to the gym for the past few weeks. And I doubt Brock does his own errands, I bet he goes to the store or the dry cleaners or someplace like that.”

Natasha sighs again. “That won’t give us enough time, though. Even if we can get, what, five minutes alone with him? Nothing we can say in five minutes is gonna make him leave. We’ve been trying to convince him since we’ve known him.”

“So we have nothing. No way to help him, no– no fucking plan?”

“There isn’t just a set of code words to snap him out of it,” Sam says softly. “If he really doesn’t understand that what Brock’s doing is wrong… arguments that sound logical to us aren’t going to change his mind. Most people who leave go back, multiple times. I think the most important thing is that Bucky knows he can leave, that he has somewhere to go, someone to support him, when he does.”

“I can’t just wait around while he’s getting hurt,” Steve whispers. “I was there, in the hospital, I saw the state he was in. He almost died and he still got mad that I called an ambulance. He was literally on the verge of death and Brock was blaming him for passing out. What happens if he has another emergency and he doesn’t have someone to force him to get help?”

“It’s painful,” Natasha agrees. “I see it a lot, with the people who come to the shelter. I watch them go back and get hurt over and over again. But I promise you, the more forceful you are, the less likely they are to come back at all.”

“I know it’s hard,” Sam sighs. “But last time he needed help, he went right to you. That’s a good sign.”

Steve shouldn’t get excited when his phone buzzes anymore. It’ll never be Bucky. It hasn’t been, for weeks. He wouldn’t dare call, he doesn’t want Bucky getting in trouble on his account, but he nearly has about a hundred times. He was satiated, slightly, when Sam told him he saw Bucky at the store. He’s alive, at least, or was last week. It worried him to hear Sam’s recollection of the state he was in– exhausted, bruised up, about what he expected– but any confirmation that he’s alive is enough for Steve.

Even so, even though he knows he shouldn’t still hold onto that hope, he feels his heart pick up when his phone buzzes. The hope deflates when, of course, it isn’t Bucky, but instead an Instagram notification. He clicks on it, really just out of curiosity. He doesn’t do much on Instagram but post his drawings, and he rarely has new people follow him. As soon as he opens the app, a message pops up.

b3cca_barn3s: hey ur buckys friend, right?

rogers070420: Yeah it’s Steve! Is everything alright?

b3cca_barn3s: i was actually kinda hoping u would know. he hasn’t answered anyones calls or texts in forever. hes never ignored me like this. is he ok? :(

rogers070420: I honestly haven’t heard from him either, I’m really sorry. I wish I could help. My friend Sam saw him a couple days ago at the store, but he hasn’t called or anything.

b3cca_barn3s: oh :( ty anyway. plz lmk if he texts u

rogers070420: I will! Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with

[scorpiongrassfield]

It’s Time To Face The Music 

Start | Prev (Content warnings for blood and casual self harm)

The thought of it is killing you. 

“I think I know why,” you say anyway. 

You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding again. 

Your heart is in your throat, closing it up and making it hard to speak. 

But you have to say something. 

“I think,” you start. 

Your ears are ringing. The room is swaying. 

“I think,” you try again. You can’t say it. You have to say it, but you can’t. “I think this is a memory,” you finish. And that’s not right. You flinched. You're disappointed in yourself.

The lighter in your pocket is so hot. It’s the only thing you can feel right now. 

“What? How does that explain…” Pat says, not following. 

You shake your head. “It doesn’t, not that. But it explains something else.” Maybe you can circle back around and try again.

You move closer to the board, and Concrete follows you, almost tripping you as it stays underfoot. 

“You get deja vous constantly. You keep waking up thinking you need to feed a cat you don’t remember owning. Theo knows you, but you don’t remember him. I think we’ve been in a memory of how you met Theo the first time,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Pat squints at the murder board as they consider what you’ve said. 

Then they straighten up, eyes wide in realization. “The fucking sun,” they swear, smaking their head and knocking their sunglasses slightly askew. “That would explain it perfectly. I don’t keep track of the sun, and the only time I’d remember where it was in the sky is when it’s right in my eyes,” they reason. 

“But,” they say, beginning to pace again, “there are too many things that theory doesn’t explain. I don’t think it’s possible to just re-write a memory on the fly as you go, the way it would be happening here. Trina can’t, at least,” Pat says, rubbing at their chin as they speak.  “And why would Theo trap us in a memory? If he’s on our side, that’s basically the most dangerous place to put us, what with Ametrine’s powers. And if he’s on her side, why not just hand us over to her?” 

“I think he hid it. I only just happened to stumble into it. And Ametrine seemed to stay focused on the Cabin and the area around it. And Theo implied that his memories do kind of… come back after a while? Since nothing Ametrine does to him is permanent. The memory is inside his soul. Which I think might also be hiding inside of yours,” you stumble. 

“What? Why?” Pat stops pacing. 

You take a moment to explain the stacked canvases that Theo showed you before. 

Pat doesn’t look convinced. “Stacking is very different from being inside one another, kid. You’re making a leap I’m not following, here.” 

You ignore the innuendo because now is not the time.

“I woke up inside Theo’s soul, and then stumbled into where you are. But Ametrine is after you and me, not him. She’s in his soul looking for you. But how can you be here? I think Ametrine attacked you, and Theo brought you in here to keep you safe. Insulated. Since she can’t exorcize him,” you say. You’re holding onto the lighter in your pocket. The heat grounds you in a weird way. 

“That still doesn’t explain exactly why she attacked me. I’m harboring a ghost? Sure I do that a lot. She’s never tried to mind wipe me over it,” Pat says, folding their arms again. 

Silence falls between you. 

This is the time to say it. 

You clench your fist around the lighter, rallying your strength.

“You said you know why and then sidestepped it,” Pat prods. 

“What. What if.” your throat is closing up again. You feel tears welling up in your eyes. But you have to say it. “What if there was a person that could rewrite memories. That lived inside them?” Your shirt and hoodie are soaked with blood. Pat hasn’t noticed. 

Pat is looking at you with a quizzical expression. “What if Ametrine attacked you because you…” You take a big shaky breath. “You were harboring an urban legend?” 

“You think Theo is an urban legend?” Pat asks, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. “I guess that’s possible, but it pokes a hole in the rest of your theories. Legends have no immunity to exorcists.” 

The only thing keeping you from just crumpling to the floor is the thought that you’d probably squish concrete, who is sitting on top of your feet. 

“Not Theo. Me,” you finally grit out. 

Your vision is a little fuzzy around the edges. 

Pat looks utterly shocked for a moment, then twists their expression back into disbelief, shaking their head. “That’s not possible. We’ve known each other for three years. Living together, even. I’d have noticed if you were killing people, or I’d be dead by now if your target was me. There’s no way. You’re just a normal ghost,” they say. 

And that hurts to hear, it really does. They’ve ripped that bandaid off, only to reveal a festering wound underneath. 

You shake your head. 

“You would have noticed if I was a normal ghost. But you were convinced I wasn’t, mostly because you thought ghosts couldn’t eat,” you say. Pat’s smart and observant and always looking for ghosts. They would have noticed. Unless… 

“Once you learned that ghosts can eat but can’t taste, you said it felt like you’d always known that. What if someone… no, what if I altered your memory to make you feel less suspicious towards me?” You feel sick just thinking about it. 

“You think you’d do that to me?” Pat asks, looking troubled. 

You nod. “I think I must have.” 

Pat puts a hand on their hip. “Alright, say you are an urban legend. What’s your story? An urban legend without a legend is just a ghost, angry or not.” 

You feel like you’re either going to catch on fire or pass out. The thought of explaining the whole thing sounds worse than everything you’ve already had to say. 

You let go of the lighter in favor of fishing your phone out of your other pocket. The sudden absence of heat is simultaneously a relief and a bitter loss. 

You pull up the urban legend on your phone. Concrete mrrs in complaint as they move away from your feet when you take a step closer to Pat to hand the phone to them. 

“This is me,” you say. 

Pat doesn’t look at the phone. “Shit. You’re bleeding,” Pat says, finally noticing. You can barely hear them over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m already dead, aren’t I?” you almost want to laugh. You can finally say it out loud, and so cavalier. 

“It still matters. Dead or not, you’re still a person,” they say, attempting to put a steady hand on your shoulder. 

You back away. 

“No I’m not. I’m an urban legend. I’m like a zombie, remember?” remind Pat of their own words. 

Pat winces. “I’ve been wrong before, maybe I was wrong about that too,” they try. 

You shake your head. “Just read it. You’ll change your mind about me.” 

“Sylv,” Pat says, sounding half-frustrated and half-heartbroken. 

You don’t respond to them, because your body - or is it your spirit? - finally gives out on you. The floor is a hard thing to hit, but it doesn’t hurt the way it should. 

You almost think you should be proud of yourself for staying standing as long as you did. Almost.

Instead of merciful unconsciousness, you find yourself in a field of blue flowers once more. 

The roar of a nearby wildfire echoes the roar of the blood in your ears. 

You feel very, very tired. But you know you can’t rest just yet. 

Next

[these-detestable-hands]

FIC I SHOWED YOU A SNIPPET OF ON YOUR BIRTHDAY IS FINALLY DONE!!!!!!! welcome to rennac's horrible awful no good very bad week

Rennac often wondered if being forsaken to a horde of giant spiders would’ve been a kinder fate.

Sure, the whole ‘deadly venom and very, very large fangs’ would’ve probably added together for a… less than pleasant final experience, but anything would’ve been preferable to-

“Rennac! Don’t fall behind, now!”

An all-top-familiar meaty hand slapping much too hard on his back snapped Rennac out of his trance. Fantastic. Dozla.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Rennac sighed as he picked up his pace. He wasn’t even aware of where they were headed, just that they were going somewhere. Not that the two of them ever told him anything. L’Arachel just seemed to have some sort of ‘intuition’ as to wherever the next ‘foul, unholy beast we have to smite from this land!’ would be, as she always put it. Not to mention he still hasn’t gotten any word out of her as to when he would be getting his pay…

A sharp gasp from L’Arachel got both his and Dozla’s attention “Look, you two!” She cried, pointing at a rather small collection of towns past the cliffside. What was she…

Ah. Monsters. Right. There were a veritable horde of beasts running amok on the plains below. Revenants, skeletons… floating eyes? That was a new one. More importantly, there were people actually fighting them.

Not just some random townsfolk who were stupid enough to try to fend them off with sticks, either. Actual soldiers and cavalries and mages and everything. They seemed to have the situation under control, and he’d rather not dull his knife if had t-

“Gwah-ha-ha! Seems like we’ve got a few beasties to wipe out, eh, Lady L’Arachel?” Dozla boomed, axe primed in hand. Joy. Guess this was their latest little detour.

“Indeed, Dozla! Come, let’s rush down these cliffs and save those poor folk from these agents of evil!” L’Arachel yelled, as if tumbling down a cliff on horseback was the most reasonable idea anyone had ever thought of.

“We go down these cliffs and the only thing we’ll be rushing to is an early death.” Rennac reminded her. “How about we find a nicer, less rocky and dangerous path down, hm?”

L’Arachel sheepishly drew back the reins of her horse. “Ah… right. Well. Let’s hurry regardless! We cannot leave these poor folk to the wrath of these beasts!” And with that, she hurtled towards the nearest path, charging down with Dozla is close pursuit.

Why was it always running with these two? Would it kill them to walk somewhere for once?!

Rennac heaved a sigh and hurried after the pair. This job would pay well, if nothing else. The SECOND he got his payment from L’Arachel when they reach Renais, he was gone. If he hadn’t ditched them by then, that is…

———————————————————

“To arms, you layabouts! We’re under attack!”

Seems like things were heating up. Rennac idled in the back of the barracks while the castle soldier barked orders at the rest of the group. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to whatever he was saying, far more interested in the (hopefully) priceless treasures he was certain were nearby. He just had to find a chance to sneak off…

“You there! Quit lazing about! The enemy will be upon us any minute!” Said soldier suddenly shouted. Ah. He was barking at him.

“Hm? No, no, you must be mistaken. Fighting wasn’t a part of the job descr-“

“Quit yapping and just grab something! Not that there’ll be much for you layabouts to do after we’re through, heh.” The soldier sneered as he hurried to get prepared. Whatever boosted his ego.

Rennac didn’t have much faith in the soldiers he had seen so far, but they would hopefully hold off any enemies long enough for him to work through a chest or seven and slip away unnoticed. He-“…only had a key, this wouldn’t be such an issue…”Hm? Was that a… voice? It was coming from the other side of the door to outside… Rennac creeped towards it to listen in.“Hm…. flimsy hinges… mostly wood… we don’t need a key for this.” A new voice this time. Were they trying to break in? That was an issue.

He wasn’t the only one to think this, seemingly, as a few other guards took notice of the voices and warily primed their weapons.“What do you mean we don’t-““Stand back, Artur. I know what to do.”Rennac took a good few dozen steps away from the entrance.“wh- LUTE NO-“Smart of him to do that, for just a moment later the door exploded off its hinges and down the hall in a fiery burst, leaving behind a smoldering entrance with one very satisfied-looking sage (and an equally shocked bishop) staring down the new entrance, Elfire tome gripped tightly in one of the sage’s hand with their other extended in a clear post-door-exploding position.

A few soldiers weren’t as quick to move out of the way as Rennac was and were now desperately trying to writhe their way out of the fiery remains of the door.“Lute, I think Colm just got the k-" the bishop started, before the sage quickly interjected.“Too late, door’s gone, let’s move. Besides, we can use that key later now. I'm just being efficient." The sage shrugged, as if this was perfectly sound logic.

While these two new obstructions were bickering (and what sounded like many more of them just outside of the door were getting prepared), Rennac figured now was as good a time as any to bolt.

He was either getting his ‘pay’ and booking it now, or be on the receiving end of an Elfire tome, which didnt sound particularly inviting. Now, he would just need to be quick with picking the nearby door and he’d be home fr-

A sickeningly familiar voice suddenly boomed through the barracks and stopped him in his tracks.

“Cower, wrongdoers! Salvation rides forth!”

Oh no.

No, no, no, not now, not HERE, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t, how would she-

“Oh! Rennac, there you are!”

He would pay any amount of money to die right then and there. Standing right before him was L’Arachel.

“What in heavens are you doing here? Dozla and I thought you simply wandered off and got lost, but not *this* lost!” L’Arachel glanced around the room, as if his reason for deserting them was simply hung up on the walls along with all the rusted spears. Rennac sometimes wondered if the goddess enjoyed seeing him suffer personally.

“Well, uh… I-it’s a bit compl-“ Rennac started before L’Arachel, like usual, interjected.

“Well, we can worry about your navigation skills later. We have work to do! Come with me!”

“I-What? No! Listen, Princess, I’m NOT working for you. The Grado Empire’s hired me. I’m your ENEMY.”

L’Arachel… laughed. That shrill, haughty laugh that haunted his worst nightmares.

“Oh, that was one of your better ones, Rennac! You’ll have to share that with Dozla once we finish here! Hurry now, the queen won’t simply save herself!”

L’arachel grasped Rennac’s arm, her grip shockingly tight. This lady scared him.

“Wh-No! What isn’t getting across here?!” Rennac objected, barely being able to squirm out of her grasp. “What part of ‘I’m not working for you anymore’ are you not understanding!?”

L’Arachel tilted her head to the side seemingly bewildered. “…Is this about your pay, again? I told you, my father will compensate you in full once we reach Rausten!”

“That was NOT our deal!! You were supposed to pay me in ADV-“

“Later, Rennac! Hurry, help me handle some of these soldiers!”

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO- annnnd there she goes.” Rennac groaned as L’Arachel galloped down the hall, her horse flattening a good few slow-witted soldiers.

He mumbled as many curses as he knew under his breath as he hurried after her. Goddess, he was going to have to learn to get through that thick skull of hers before it killed him.

Eirika had observed the entire argument from the entrance hole where the door used to be, and turned to Dozla, thoroughly unsure what to think about the apparent recruitment she just witnessed.

“Are they… always like this?” She inquired.

“Hm?” Dozla turned towards her. “Ah, Rennac’s just a bit prickly around Lady L’arachel! Pay ‘em no mind. Heck, that was one of their quicker squabbles! Gwah-hah!”

“…Right.”

———————————————————

Rennac poked at the fireplace with a nearby stick, before tossing it in once it lit.

The commander, whatever her name was, decided they would set up camp and rest for the night before liberating Castle Renais in the morning. Not that he particularly cared.

They just had to do that, then hopefully he could finally drop the brat L’Arachel off at Rausten, get his ample compensation, and never have to see her again. Wouldn’t that be nice.

Goddess, what was he doing with his life? Here he was, a master thief, pilferer of treasures the continent over, a vagabond drifting wherever the wind took him…

Getting dragged around by some bossy princess and her meathead bodyguard halfway across the continent with a bunch of weirdos and nobodys who were all trying to get chummy with him.

Maybe he should just jump into the nearest river and hope the currents take him somewhere nicer.

“Hey.”

“GAH?!”

Rennac practically jumped out of his skin, swiveling around to see-

Oh. It was just that sage girl who blew up the door. Not someone sneaking up to plunge a dagger in his back for… the many reasons a lot of different people would want to do that. (Thievery doesn’t exactly make you a lot of friends.)

“…can I help you?” Rennac asked, slowly reverting from his startled-wilderness-animal pose.

“Why are you out here all by yourself? Everyone else is inside.” She questioned as she took a seat next to him on the log, lazily swishing an ember between her fingers.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

Lute shrugged. “It’s loud. I like eating out here. Sometimes deer walk by. I give them bits of the food sometimes. We have a professional relationship.”

“Fascinating.”Rennac mumbled as he looked for absolutely anything in the nearby area to focus on instead of this conversation. “Is there a particular reason you came here to bother me or did you just want to brag about your deer friends?”

“There is, actually. You fascinate me.”

What.

“What?”

“That L’arachel lady. I can hear you grumbling about her under your breath all the time, yet you’re at her beck and call. Why is that?”

Great. Guess he was explaining his curse to some random kid today.

“That- She’s my employer. That’s the ONLY reason I’m sticking with them. Once I get my pay, I can die happy never seeing her again.”

“Hm. You didn’t seem very happy to meet her when we found you in Jehanna Hall.” Lute took a bite out of an apple she had brought with her.

“That’s because I don’t like her. That mercenary job for Grado was supposed to be my ESCAPE from her, but there she comes, barging through the doors! And there I stupidly thought I got rid of her.”

“Better than whatever the Grado Army would’ve done with you if you stayed with them.”

“…what?” Rennac tilted his head slightly. The hell did this kid know about the Grado Army?

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Most random mercenaries who the Grado Army empire aren’t especially well treated once the bloodshed is over. And, of course, they don’t want people getting away with essential secrets of how the army strategizes and advances. I’ve heard that most are thrown in dungeons to rot, or ‘conveniently’ caught up in the chaos of battles and skewered by someone by some Grado troop. And I wouldn’t think they would trust a thief any more than any other mercenary.” Lute recited flatly as if it was common knowledge.

“If anything, L’arachel probably saved you from whatever they would’ve done to you. You should count yourself lucky.”

L’arachel saved him.

L’arachel rescued him.

The brat whose existence he had cursed tenfold every day was the reason he was alive today. He would never be free from her.

Rennac crumpled inwards into a very tiny ball, gripping his hair with the rage of a thousand suns. He would scream, but his vocal cords were failing him at the moment.

Lute leaned down slightly to look at him again, taking another chomp from her apple.

“Oh, do you know the loud one with the axe? He mentioned your name a few times. He’s quite good at cutting apples.”

A very, very quiet sob leaked out of the tight ball Rennac had become.

“I will take that as a yes. My condolences.”

And off Lute wandered, turning in for the night while Rennac sat in front of the fireplace for a very, very long time, contemplating the lot he had drawn in life.

Deep down, he had a horrible, terrible premonition that he would never quite get away from the princess of Rausten. Just his awful, rotten luck.

Argh

I read it this morning while half asleep and then again just now (around 5pm) and oughhh it's so good Bean ekgkclsldogoglrlewldk kckfkdncngkwl l l de lqldkgkfl vkeopwæfæcøsø ævl op ad å pvk4oweohitrwldæ

Elfire mention

Prey animal Rennac :]

This is how I imagine Rennac looking in this bit

Overall: 1000/10, very good amazing fic. I am slurping it up like a plate of spaghetti and it's very delicious and yummy :3