#firm New Deal Strategies

[fans4wga]

26 July update from WGA's Chris Keyser

From the WGA: With SAG-AFTRA now on strike and new levels of solidarity across all Hollywood unions, we are witnessing the spectacular failure of the AMPTP’s negotiating strategy. In this video, WGA Negotiating Committee Co-Chair Chris Keyser lays out what this moment means and how we move forward. To learn more about the WGA strike, visit https://www.wgastrike.org.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Fellow members of the WGA East and West. It's been a while since our last video and quite a bit has happened in the meantime. So on behalf of the negotiating committee and leadership, I wanted to give you an update on where we are and what the near future at least is likely to bring.

We've been walking side by side on picket lines in New York and Los Angeles for a little over 12 weeks now. Only now we're joined by thousands upon thousands of members of SAG-AFTRA who, like us, have finally had enough.

This is the endpoint and the fruit of the AMPTP’s game plan. For 11 weeks, they negotiated with everyone but us. They claimed it was just practicality, that they could only do one thing at a time, which is not normally a point of pride. But events have made clear what we knew from the start: that not only was it a strategy, it was their only strategy. Negotiate a deal with a single guild and impose that deal on every other guild and union in Hollywood, whether it addresses the needs of those unions or not, all with the implicit threat: if you want more, strike for it.

Wow. It’s their 2007-8 playbook applied to 2023 as if nothing has changed, as if the accumulation of economic insults and injuries inflicted on us over the past decade would be borne in perpetual silence, as if the giant of labor had not awakened. But it has. And you only need to look as far as the front gates of every studio in LA and New York to see the evidence.

Two unions on strike willing to exercise their power, despite the pain, to ensure their members get the contract they deserve. For us, that means addressing the relentless mistreatment of screenwriters, which has only been exacerbated by the move to streaming; the continued denial of full MBA protection to comedy variety and other appendix A writers when they work in streaming; and the self-destructive unsustainable dismantling of the process by which episodic television is made and episodic television writers are paid.

It means addressing the existential threat of AI and the insufficiency of streaming residual formulas, including the need for transparency and a success-based component. All of these will need to be addressed for there to be a deal because in this strike it is our power and not their pattern that matters, not their strategy. Their strategy has failed them. Now they're in the midst of a streaming war with each other, an admittedly difficult transition. And as they face the future, their interests and business models could not be more different from Disney to Sony to Netflix to Amazon.

We root for their success, all of them. They root for each other's failure. We are the creative ammunition through which they will succeed. They are each other's apex predators. And yet, in a singular shared dedication to denying labor, they have shackled themselves together in what increasingly seems like a mutual suicide pact, as the 2023-24 broadcast season and the 2024-25 movie schedule and its streaming shows disappear, melt away week by week.

So what does this mean? What does it mean going forward? How do you play chess against an opponent who insists on screaming checkmate at every move regardless of how the board looks and the game is going?

You stay firm, you stay resolved, because our cause is no less existential than when we started and our leverage is increasing every day. Alone we withheld our labor with the support of our union siblings and the Teamsters and IATSE and the Crafts, we were able to delay the vast majority of production. Now with SAG-AFTRA on strike, those few studio projects that remained have also shut down. And it's not just the obvious delays. If this strike drags on, it's the actors with conflicting obligations and the directors and the double-booked studio facilities and release date chaos that the companies must now also contend with. Some of their most valuable product could well be delayed for years.

Add to that, no promotion of movies or television shows and famous faces on the picket lines and social media speaking directly to their customers. For the tech companies and the mega corporations, that should be their nightmare scenario: WGA and SAG-AFTRA side by side. Our bargaining agenda may not be identical, but our cause is the same. Our army of labor, defending labor has increased 17-fold in the past two weeks alone.

Even so, even with all this wind at our backs this negotiation won't happen overnight. It's not because the negotiations themselves are so complex. Once the companies fully engage, it could go very quickly, but because their strategy of many decades has just fallen apart and they didn't see it coming, and it's going to take them a minute to regroup, 'cause the companies have things to work out internally, and saying no to labor in unison is a lot easier than saying yes. So either together or separately, as their divergent interests might suggest, they will come back to us, despite their understandable concern about how they've navigated this transition to streaming, which is on their heads and not ours; and their worries about costs and their worries about Wall Street; despite this being a season of doom and gloom, none of them are walking away from the riches of this business, and certainly not over the equitable minimum compensation to writers.

They didn't get the deal they wanted; that's fine, it happens all the time. They're not taking their ball and going home over it. And since we know they come from union families themselves, and since they've denied that “even-in-Hollywood-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” ugliness of threatening to starve us out and leave us homeless (which we assume they understand also means making our children homeless,) they will come back to us. Although I will say they took a long time to deny that statement, longer than I would have had it been ascribed to me.

But what does it matter? You can starve a labor force slowly or quickly. The effect is the same. It's not like day rates for comedy variety writers and endless free drafts for screenwriters in exchange for a single paid one in four-week mini-rooms isn't cruelty. It's just cruelty written in contract language instead of a press quote.

So what can we expect from the companies as all of this plays itself out? They will try to convince Wall Street that taking a strike, prolonging it unnecessarily, losing their content stream in the process—that all of that is just smart business and no reason for investor concern. We will be talking to Wall Street too, and reminding them that for all these companies, all of 'em including Netflix, the bill, the price for making nothing, will eventually come due. And Wall Street is listening already. Here's Michael Pachter, managing director of equity research at Wedbush on Yahoo Finance the other day: “I think the studios are completely wrong on this one. Content is their lifeblood. They're feeling really foolish about this."

Wall Street isn't the only one listening. We've been talking to union pension funds too about the risks the companies are taking. We talked to CalPERS, the largest public pension plan in the country, talked about the loss of programming and the cost to the industry, and we heard strong support from its board for our struggle and the promise that the companies will be hearing from them, from CalPERS, and demanding answers on behalf of its 2 million members.

To us, of course, they will continue to plead temporary poverty, but we know the drill. These companies support billions into the streaming wars and taken short-term losses these past three years, because they know that to the winner will go the spoils. We're patient, will they share that with us when the time comes? What are the chances?

Since 2017, the last time the studios negotiated with us outside of COVID, the big six companies alone have made $150 billion in profits off our work, while they slashed our pay and degraded our working conditions. Maybe if they had shared a tiny piece of that then, made $1 billion or so less, this year wouldn't seem so costly. As it is, there is no iron law that these companies are entitled to record profits every year, and it isn't some great travesty if their shareholders or their CEOs get a slightly smaller slice of the massive profits we helped create if some balance is restored.

Look, no one denies that corporations exist to make a profit and no one wants our employers to be profitable more than we do, but the singular pursuit of corporate profits to the exclusion of their social and human cost is a real problem in this country—it’s a real problem. A corporation's bottom line is not the same as the world’s, and there is nothing in our studio's bottom lines today that accounts for the quality of our lives or for our dignity, for the comfort of our retirement or the security of our families. Their numbers have no conscience, but the people who report them as victories ought to.

In their refusal to recognize that, these companies have also extracted an awful price, which is laid at their feet and for which they are responsible. Losses to the economies of New York and Los Angeles and everywhere that film and television are made, terrible losses that mount every day, thousands of people out of work; not just us, all the crews, the crafts, the janitors, the drivers, the businesses that thrive when Hollywood thrives, the restaurants, the stores—for what? For nothing. So they could avoid coming to the table to negotiate the deal they will one day give us. Measured today that is the painfully mixed legacy of our employers, weighed against every beautiful piece of work we have made with them.

And if history is a guide, they have only temporary stewardship over a kind of national trust, which is Hollywood. Our story, our sometimes conscience, our public conversation, our diversion of the worst and best of times, our greatest export, the repository of our imagination. They have some obligation to more than just their shareholders to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, it seems big tech, mega corporations, and some of the people who run them, as the saying goes know the price of everything and the value of nothing. So they have built a business model that no longer works for human beings who cannot be paid minimum for 10 to 20 weeks a year and make a career out of that, be paid for one draft of a screenplay that demands a year of labor, be paid a few episodic fees for a show about which to take years to decide be paid a daily rate.

And now we have a first glimpse of what they offered our actor colleagues. We are not 170,000 Willy Lomans to be used and then discarded. We know what the companies believe they have the power to do. We know what they think machines can do and do without any of us. Oh yeah, we've seen the writing on the wall and it's plagiarized.

The thing is this: the difference between what you CAN do and what you SHOULD do is the greatest single difference in the world. Knowing that is the only real protection we have against a dystopian future. And if the companies sometimes forget that, writers will do it for them.

I can't know exactly how long it will take this revolutionary moment, and you've heard again and again what is happening today has not happened in 63 years, but I know that's not always how it feels, revolutionary and defining, even though we celebrate that on picket lines together, which is the right thing to do. That's not always how it feels when you go home at night. I know how tough this is: to strike, to hold the line. I know it gets tougher every day even with SAG-AFTRA marching beside us, how hard it is to face the uncertainty of when it will end, when we'll get back to work, how we'll pay the bills. I know it's hardest for those who've just gotten started, for those for whom the world opens doors more reluctantly, battled their whole life just to get here; but hard too for those struggling to maintain their long careers, who find work tougher and tougher to come by, or those with families with children or parents to take care of.

These companies understand the cruelty of what they're doing. It's their plan to starve us just a little, to exact as much pain as they can so that we wish more for the pain to end than for the better life we dreamed up. That we're more afraid of the uncertainty of the present than the certain devastation of the future. It's societally acceptable economic torture inflicted by management on labor every day, then blamed on labor for daring to fight back, for refusing to be complicit in its own mistreatment.

Here's how I know that's not going to work. Not with us, not with the writers, because we haven't come all this way, fought to have these careers in the first place, all the adversity, and marched together for all these months, only to let it slip away on our watch—because there is no point in rushing back to jobs that may not be there in a year or two anyway. Because the business, as the companies have twisted it, is now untenable, unsurvivable for so many of us, because even success is not enough to keep going, because this guild is younger than it's ever been and more diverse. And this young diverse membership knows from hard personal experience the system is broken and that it will not be fixed unless they fix it. And those of us who came before them will not let them down, because we and the writer's guild are the beneficiaries of all those who came before us who gave up everything for us.

Like the writers of 1960, the year I was born, who struck for 22 weeks and who gave away all the TV residuals for all the movies they had ever written so that we could have a health insurance and pension plan and residuals from that date forward. $15 billion flowed to writers and their benefit plans because of that sacrifice. Because writers are brave, because now it's our turn.

So what's our job? Even as we welcome SAG-AFTRA to our side, we are still responsible for our own deal, and so we must remain focused and diligent. We must continue to march, picket signs in hand. But we should also remember this and with pride, that before there was SAG-AFTRA, before even the Teamsters and IATSE and the laborers and the electrical workers and the musicians and the plasterers came to our side, there was the writers. Alone then, we looked at the blank page and began to imagine the future. With no net but each other we typed the words, what if?

And then we took a step into the darkness and found that it was light. And then we were joined by the crews and the drivers and the actors. The actors got a bit more fanfare when they showed up, but that's okay, we wrote the script. The WGA, still small, not alone anymore after all these decades. Hollywood labor has finally linked arms and found its voice, and that voice says enough. There is no road to longterm prosperity that burns a path through your own workforce. We are not your enemies. We are not merely a cost to be borne. We are your partners and your greatest asset. And we are, as you acknowledge yourselves, irreplaceable, but by accident or design and it doesn't really matter anymore, the business you are running no longer works for those who work for you.

What is the point in continuing to deny that? Why deny it when everyone else in the business to a person tells you it's true? Do you think it's a coincidence that two unions are on strike against you for the first time since Eisenhower was president? You can't exactly accuse us of being quick on the trigger. The effect has a cause, it has a cause. And there is no profit in insisting on the answers to the past for the questions of the future.

But if you want instead to invest in something that will reap you fortunes, I have a tip. And if you are visionaries, envision a solution, not a stalemate. Because this isn't a war we're in, it's a negotiation, it's just a negotiation. There is no face-saving here for either side, because there is no winner or loser. It's just a deal. And when you come to remember that again we will be here as we have been here all along.

And at this point with 170,000 writers and actors aligned against your intransigence, that is as generous as I can be, as close to an olive branch as I can offer. But if you insist instead on the same threatening rhetoric, on saying you would rather starve us than pay us, I would remind you of this: You are fighting for a dollar, we are fighting for survival. We are fighting for our home: writing is where we live, and we will defend that home with a bravery and stamina and ferocity that you will come to understand someday, which is why you cannot break us. You cannot outlast us, you cannot.

And not just because we have the will, because we have power. Nothing in this business happens until we start to write. And we will not start to write until we are paid.

Union now. Union forever.

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike #union solidarity #i stand with the wga #wga strong #wga solidarity #fans4wga #Youtube #wga strike #writers strike

[robfinancialtip]

🗽🌍Raja Iqdeimat, a successful pastry firm owner, describes her story. Born in Abu Dhabi, she grew up in several places, including Libya, Lebanon, Jordan, and Kuwait before moving to Turkey, California, and finally New York. Despite her parents' lack of education, she was the first member of her family to pursue higher education and succeed. She credits her parents for instilling entrepreneurial skills and determination in her despite their lack of formal schooling.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🌱Growing up as the youngest member of a large family of nine, Raja felt unusual, but she believed that each family had a unique person who contributed in different ways. Despite lacking a formal education, she describes how her father was a successful businessman who inspired her to pursue her aspirations. Raja's mother, though uneducated, was hardworking and concerned about her family's well-being, imparting in Raja a strong work ethic and tenacity.

😔💼Growing up in different places and seeking a profession in finance was filled with personal losses and difficulties. Despite working as a brokerage manager in Jordan for seven years, dealing derivatives, equities, and bonds, she felt great loneliness following the deaths of her parents when she moved to the United States as a single mother without a broker's license. When the mass layoff in 2008, she was unemployed for six to seven months in California, struggling to support herself and her kid. Realizing that California's emphasis on the film industry did not fit with her career goals, she boldly moved to New York, where she swiftly obtained a job at an insurance firm and began rebuilding her life.

🏙️🎉While working at a New York bank in 2018, her manager questioned her capacity to buy a Manhattan apartment, which proved critical. This distrust motivated Raja to pursue entrepreneurship and independence. Despite difficulties and misgivings, she bravely launched her own business, motivated by her passion for entrepreneurship and need for autonomy. This marked the beginning of Délice Macarons, her venture into the world of cooking pastry, and her journey toward self-reliance and success.

🚀🧁Raja, a dessert shop owner in New Jersey, faced challenges during the COVID-19 pandemic. Despite lacking retail expertise, she managed everything from decoration to recruitment, relying on her entrepreneurial flair. She and her chef friend opened their first physical store in Cranford, New Jersey, in January 2020. Despite financial constraints, they shifted their business strategy to focus on fundamental products like bread. Raja's resilience and ability to transform adversity into opportunity remained evident.

🌟🗣️Raja's message encourages listeners, emphasizing the value of endurance, adaptation, and believing in oneself. Despite various barriers, including financial difficulties and the enormous task of beginning a business in a new nation, she stayed determined to succeed, demonstrating that anything is possible with devotion and hard work. Raja's path demonstrates the importance of taking risks, pursuing passion, and never giving up on one's goals. Her tale resonates with individuals who want to overcome obstacles and succeed on their terms. Raja highlights the importance of perseverance, hard work, and financial acumen. She promotes confidence in oneself and pursuing one's goals, emphasizing that hard work combined with passion may lead to success in any activity.

#Youtube

[seat-safety-switch]

Orbital mechanics: not my cup of tea. Don't get me wrong, I like it when things go around and around in a circle. The faster the better. Key word there is "circle." Orbits involve that oh-so-complicated third dimension, and that's one dimension more than a tire has. Or, at least, a new tire, not that I know what those are like.

Out there in space is another one of those tragedy of the commons deals. Folks park their garbage in low- to medium-orbit, it sails around, sometimes it clonks into other stuff. Scientists are afraid that if too much stuff clonks together, then there will be an impenetrable cloud of rocket-shredding dust surrounding the planet and we'll never be able to leave Earth ever again. Parking. I know a lot about parking, I told myself, so I drove over to NASA to help them out with the whole thing.

"Space Junk Removal" is what it said on the side of my battered 1993 Econoline E250 as I pulled onto the sidewalk outside the JPL and left it running. You really don't want to shut off a van like this, not when it's been on the highway for this long, because the battery is more than a little flat and the chances of the engine ever restarting are just slightly smaller than that of discovering extraterrestrial life. In the back of my van are several 1980s Shop-Vacs, American civilization's sole contribution to humanity. These babies are great: they will suck up a puddle, or a mouse nest, or a bunch of spilled gasoline, or empty a bee hive if you get the little narrow cone attachment for it.

Of course, the modern Shop-Vac sucks ass. It was sold to a foreign investment firm, at which point they started to lose every feature that made it good except for the name. A new one will last you about twenty minutes, which means it's definitely not appropriate to chuck onto the top of a departing heavy-lift rocket, hence the classics pulled from my hoard. This kind of knowledge, and this sort of procurement, is what they pay high-powered government consultants like myself to take care of.

As I show the assembled scientists, who assuredly do understand orbital mechanics, I see that I am winning over the crowd, little by little. Even the most skeptical math-haver is realizing that my strategy of "put a rubber band around the power switch" is totally plausible. By this time tomorrow, we'll have just one last piece of space junk up there in orbit, and it's bright yellow so it'll be a lot harder to hit. If we can find a long enough extension cord, we should be able to tug real hard on it and reuse the Shop-Vac for the next mission, too, as long as someone's willing to catch it.

[iww-gnv]

A hotly anticipated meeting Friday between the Writers Guild of America and negotiators for Hollywood's biggest studios ended not with a bang but with a whimper, it appears, as both sides confirm that the three-month-long standoff between screenwriters and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers is set to continue, as will the strike that's left the entertainment industry at a standstill. Friday's meeting, the first between the WGA and the AMPTP since contract negotiations stalled in May, had been greeted with high hopes when it was announced earlier this week. The New York Times reported that conditions for an end to the writers' strike seemed promising, as a back-channel meeting last week between a “handful of executives” and “three members of the guild’s negotiating committee” led execs to believe that “there could be a path to a deal."  Following that shadowy meeting, AMPTP president Carol Lombardini reached out to WGA leaders to schedule Friday's official confab, but even as that news broke, the WGA remained cautious. In a message to members Thursday, the WGA's negotiating committee said that “we won’t prejudge what’s to come, but playbooks die hard. So far, the companies have wasted months on their same failed strategy. They have attempted, time and time again, through anonymous quotes in the media, to use scare tactics, rumors, and lies to weaken our resolve.” Variety reports that the two sides met Friday for about an hour, but that after the WGA stood firm on its expectations regarding “minimum staffing levels in episodic TV and a guaranteed minimum number of weeks of employment,” the conversation fizzled. 

#news #amptp #wga #wga strike #wga strike 2023 #wga strong #do the write thing #pay the writers

[mrmrswales]

The Prince and Princess of Wales are creating a new role of Chief Executive Officer (CEO) to run their household of about 60 staff. The new boss will report directly to them and won’t answer to the private secretaries who have long held power behind the scenes at the palaces. Kensington Palace has already hired a high-powered recruitment firm, Odgers Berndtson, to find the best candidate. It has placed an advertisement online which stresses the unprecedented nature of the position. ‘This is a unique opportunity,’ it says. ‘The CEO is the most senior and accountable leader for the Household, reporting directly to TRHs The Prince and Princess of Wales. They will be responsible for the development and implementation of TRH’s long-term strategy and continuing to strengthen a professional and collaborative Household culture.’ In an apparent admission that there are some strong-willed, difficult characters are the palace, the job description states that the successful candidate must be ‘emotionally intelligent, with “low ego”, and strong self-awareness and understanding of their impact on others’. Anyone wanting the job must be ‘able to operate as a “servant” leader, empowering the senior team’, it says. The CEO will deal directly with King Charles and Queen Camilla’s household, ‘serving as the strategic interface to Buckingham Palace, to align The Royal Highnesses’ priorities with those in support of His Majesty The King and Her Majesty The Queen’. No salary is given, but it is understood that the CEO will be paid more than the couple’s private secretaries.

[uzurimisery]

chapter 1: a bet. / gojo satoru

gojo in a suit wearing nice perfume yes please

wc: 2,194

Being a legal secretary was far from a straightforward job. You need to be smart, but not too much, otherwise the insecure old men might lose their minds. You needed to draft and proofread legal documents and thus understand legal ongoings, on top of ensuring important court filings were submitted on time. But being a great legal secretary meant doing so much more, and being a great legal secretary at one of the top firms in Los Angeles? God, did you deserve a medal for doing all the heavy lifting while wearing heels!

Suguru would be lost without you truly, and that’s something the whole firm knew. Your researching abilities gave him a step ahead of the opposing party, and the critical details you had uncovered had saved more than a few cases from being lost. Add to that your legal strategy you were more of an associate than the third years. Which is why for the past six years, you’ve been Suguru Getou’s secretary.

You were friends first, having met at a shitty dive bar near Harvard’s campus in your final years. (He in law school and your undergrad) You didn’t run in the same circles, but it was thanks to an internship you had landed at a third rate law firm near campus, which Suguru also had an internship at, you two bonded. Perhaps over one too many jager-bombs, but what university without those regrets?

Besides those regrets, you got your job now at Masamichi & Associates Los Angeles Branch, which you loved. Minus the 80 work weeks, ass kissing to rich clients, dealing with the first year associates, and the — well, there’s a lot you could say you disliked about the job, but truly you love it. Even if you had to miss out on your friend’s bachelorette party. It was her second marriage to be fair, so you didn’t feel as bad. But yes, you loved your job. Except for right now.

You stood in front of Suguru’s desk, seething with anger. “You used me as a bet?!”

“Y/n, listen,” Suguru said, holding up his hands in defence. “I was certain I was going to win!”

“Oh my god,” you said, shaking your head. “I should throttle you! I mean, what the hell, Suguru? You didn’t even ask me if I was fine with being bet on.”

“I knew you would say no,” Suguru admitted.

“No shit, I’d say no!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n,” Suguru said, standing up from his chair and motioning for you to sit down in his place. “I truly thought he wouldn’t win the case and that I’d actually have to pay up.”

You sat down, plopping down into the chair rather than sitting gracefully. Suguru stood behind you and rubbed your shoulders.

“I can’t believe you,” you said. “After all that we have been through, you threw me away to a half-rate lawyer.”

“Okay, harsh,” Suguru said. “He’s not a half-rate lawyer-“

“You’re the one who called him that,” you pointed out.

Suguru sighed. “Yes, I did,” he said. “But I was just being facetious. I know he’s a talented lawyer.”

“Then why did you bet me on him?” you asked.

“Because I was confident that I was going to win,” Suguru said again. “I thought it would be a funny bet, you know? A little friendly wager.”

“It wasn’t funny,” you said. “It is humiliating. I feel like a prize to be won, not a person.”

“You’re the best person and he’s actually a wonderful lawyer, the best at the branch in Japan, which is why he’s coming to the New York branch. Plus, Satoru is a friend of mine from my undergraduate and law school days, which I still don’t know how you never met him, or Shoko.”

“I was antisocial, Suguru. It’s a miracle I even knew you.” A huff escaped you. “What’s he like?”

“He’s annoying, a bit of a narcissist-”

“Just like you then.” Getou made a face at you, leaning over you so you could see his face.

“He’s good at his job. Smart. Like freakishly so. He likes answering questions too, used to be a TA when we were in high school, so he’ll put up with all yours. You’re gonna love it with him, I promise! And if you don’t, then give it three months and I’ll pay him the 300k instead.”

“Fine…” the dollar amount clicked in your brain. “YOU BET ME FOR 300 THOUSAND DOLLARS?!”

__________

Your heels clicked against the polished wood flooring as you made your way from the Northwest corner office to Suguru’s office on the Southeastern side of the floor. Luckily, you wouldn’t be stuck down on the 53rd floor, where they put transfers. Gojo was clearly one of the best lawyers at the firm if he was taking a corner office, too.

It took you a few hours to get everything set up at your new desk and for IT to move your computer over. Truthfully, you could have done it faster without them, but rules and procedures were rules and procedures. The nice thing was that your desk was bigger now, with an elevated spot for your monitor and phone. Getou would be hearing from you after all of this to upgrade your desk with him.

Gojo wasn’t due to be back from a meeting with Mr. Trent Chow, an investment banker at a hedge fund the firm had been trying to get on the books for a few weeks now, until after lunch, which gave you enough time to go hear all the gossip from the other secretaries about him.

Gojo had worked in the States before, as well as in the UK. He was known for closing deals and was a self-described “winner.” He drank fine scotch and dated even finer women. Apparently, there was an issue in the Japanese branch, with a few ex-clients being barred from the premises after Gojo may or may not have slept with their wives. He was an excellent lawyer, but an egotistical person.

Halfway through your second coffee of the day, expertly crafted by the barista at the Cafe at the ground floor of the building who was hopelessly into you, a body leaned up against the top of your desk.

A tailored pinstripe navy suit by Brioni, a name-brand Italian leather watch by Patek Philippe, and a class ring with the same graduation year as Getou—it wasn’t hard to tell that it was an attorney leaning on your desk.

“So you’re the unlucky secretary sacrificed to Gojo,” she said in a raspy, low-toned voice.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is he that bad?”

“Oh, he’s not bad,” Shoko said with a smile. “He’s just... a lot.”

“How so?”

“He’s arrogant, obnoxious, and he has a terrible habit of flirting with every woman he meets,” Shoko said. “But he’s also one of the best attorneys I know. He’s brilliant, and he’s always prepared. So if you can handle his ego, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I can handle it,” you said with a smirk.

Shoko laughed. “I knew I was going to like you,” she said. “Shoko Ieri, senior partner.” She extended her hand.

You shook her hand. “Y/N,” you said. “Secretary extraordinaire.”

Shoko held your gaze for a moment. “I think we’re going to be a great team,” she said.

“How long have you been at the firm?” You asked her.

“Same amount of time as Getou and Gojo. We all graduated together and got put in the bullpen together, too. Gojo and I ended up back in Japan to help the transition after Masamishi became named partner.”

“Oh, so you went to Harvard as well?”

“Guilty. Still don’t know if it was worth it. You?”

“Harvard too. I was two years under your class and in the undergrad program.”

The chatter between you and Shoko continued for a while, only stopping as Gojo rounded the corner.

6’3” with platinum blonde hair, more akin to white, swept back and styled, only disrupted by a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, that was perfectly coiffed, without a single strand out of place. His skin was pale and flawless, and his cheekbones were sharp and defined. His nose was straight and angular, and his lips were full and sensual.

He wore a tailored three-piece black suit with a maroon tie hanging undone, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. The top two buttons of his white button-down shirt were undone, showcasing his strong jawline.

His gait was confident and unhurried. He walked like he owned the place, with his head held high and his shoulders back. His demeanour was polished and sophisticated, and he had a natural elegance that seemed effortless. There was an air of authority about him, a sense that he was accustomed to being in charge. He came from a long line of judges, attorneys, and government officials both in the USA and Japan, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he actually felt that way. He was born into it all.

When he reached your desk, he placed a few manilla folders on top of it. Given his reputation, it was easy to guess it was Trent Chow signing on to the firm. You could smell him now that he was closer, and he smelt good. Clary sage wrapped up with pear and bergamot, cushioned by amber and patchouli. He smelt as expensive as he dressed.

“You must be my new secretary.” He smiled, one side going up higher than the other revealing a sharp canine. “Gojo Satoru, best closer in the city and your new boss, though I guess it’s the other way around here. Anyway! Come into my office, let’s talk.”

To say his office was impressive was an understatement. It was a corner facing unit overlooking the expanse of the city. The interior was well decorated, but stilly minimal. A wall of records and books filled with a range of media and titles from the early 1900s to now. His desk was sleek, ornate but not overstated, with the latest generation MacBook idling on it. Two tub chairs sat facing the desk, both at an angle so that the person sitting in it would have to look at Gojo.

Towards the south-facing window was a more expensive version of an IKEA Kallax unit, lined with sport memorabilia and signed basketballs. A few feet away from it was a sitting area. A brown leather couch draped with throw facing a metal and glass coffee table flanked by two dark grey Herman Miller Chadwick modular chairs. On the table was a neatly organised stack of the times layered between sport magazines, and a lit candle filling the room with a rainy cedar smell like a mountain forest in spring.

The most impressive thing might have been that he had the entire office set up for his first day.

Gojo sat down in his office chair and gave a full 360 spin before facing you, propping his chin on his left hand and he leaned forward against the desk and the right removed the sunglasses from his head and placed them down neatly.

Being this close, you could see his eyes for all that they were. They were strangely unnerving, an endless expanse that felt like he wasn’t seeing you, but through you instead. As if under his gaze, lay all your little habits and transgressions bare for him to observe.

He stared at you for what felt like an hour before speaking.

“Sugu told me you were the best. Kept him organised. Helped him manage the litigation of 405 Holdings, created curated lists of clients with detailed information on their likes and dislikes for him to improve relationships with them, and said your view on legal proceedings was better than a fifth year associate,” He dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair “but he didn’t tell me you were gorgeous.”

There was the notorious flirting they had warned you of.

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Please, Satoru’s fine.”

“Satoru,” you corrected, leaning against the armrest of the chair “You’ve got a meeting with Orlando Smitt from Smitt & Sons Petroleum at 2:00 at Le Pavillion, expect for it to take two and half hours as he likes to chat. After that you’ve got a meeting on the Park Holdings case with Suguru, followed by a dinner with Laurence Hill, a potential client in the automotive manufacturing industry with an estimated company value of $1.7 billion, and I’m to remind you that Masamichi wants a copy of your brief on the Trust Development case on his desk by nine tomorrow or your on the next pro Bono case which, I’ve been told, is housing court.”

You rose, leaning over his desk with a hand spread across it “And yes, I am gorgeous, but you think a little sweet talk is all it’s going to take to get me to even have the slightest amount of interest in you?”

Spinning on your heel, you sauntered towards the door, opening it while looking over your shoulder at him

“Oh, and Mr. Smitt is allergic to shellfish.”

Series masterlist: here

#uzuri writes #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk imagine #jjk imagines

[jeniffercheck]

hairline fracture (is it me that you'd run after?)

shivlina oneshot: argestes, but have roman and shiv switch places -- set during 2x06 (argestes), shivlina are established affair partners, closely follows the canon of s2. CWs below the cut.

words: 9k

for @shivvroys as part of the shivcord winter fic exchange xx

read here or on ao3

cw for domestic violence & implied/referenced domestic violence. It is a prevalent theme throughout the entire fic & injuries are described quite a few times but it does not get graphic. the shown domestic violence does not stray from canon. please let me know if you think i've missed anything!

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Karolina grips her glass loosely, a lousy mix of the worst 2000s house beats and party guests shouting over the music reverberating through her ears. Shiv stares at Tom across the room, her eyes turning into something more of a scowl compared to Karolina’s entertainment.

“You’d think he’d have a little more tact than trying to get with a competitor,” Shiv says.

Shiv is obviously using a loose definition of the word competitor, the woman being some executive from a privately owned firm that Karolina can’t recall ever being involved in news or theme parks, but she laughs quietly at the comment, unable to ignore the irony in the complaint.

“The fact that he’d even consider speaking to another woman in public in a way that could even hint at a business deal—” Karolina says. “It’s horrifying.”

“Whatever,” Shiv says, taking a sip of her drink. “We’re different.”

“Because…” Karolina lets the word hang in a question, not one that she really needs an answer to, but one she’d like to indulge in anyway.

“Because, I don’t trust them,” Shiv says, finally tearing her eyes away from Tom. It’s the unsaid that Karolina revels in when she pokes and prods, this time around being that Shiv trusts her.

“Although—” Shiv starts.

“Here we go,” Karolina sighs, bracing her arms on the table for impact.

“At least Tom has the decency to laugh at everything she says,” Shiv looks over at the pair again, and Karolina follows her gaze, an animated Tom laughing obnoxiously at whatever the woman has just told him.

Karolina leans closer to Shiv and whispers delicately in her ear, “Maybe she’s just funnier than you.”

She bites back a smirk as Shiv looks at her again, eyes sharp and eyebrow quirked.

“You think I’m jealous,” she states.

Karolina shrugs. “Are you?”

“No,” Shiv says immediately. She rests an elbow on the table and leans her head into her hand, an insufferable smugness taking over her features. “There are more pressing matters in front of me.”

Karolina lets her hair fall in front of her face, if only to hide the growing redness from the eyes of the surrounding crowd. If anyone were to ask, she’d say it was the alcohol. If anyone were to know, well, they’d know that Shiv Roy has Karolina Novotney wrapped around her fucking finger; annoying conversations about her husband be damned.

“Glad you came?” Shiv asks.

While glad is certainly not the word that Karolina would use for her last-minute attendance at the Billionaire Boys Club annual reunion—waking up to the news that her employer has hundreds of accounts of heinous crimes and illegal cover-ups headed right to the press is really not her preferred way to start the work week—it’s always nice to spend time with Shiv in a place that doesn’t feel so shrouded in secrecy. Still, there’s work to do, whether she wants to have that conversation or not.

“I’ll be glad if we can make it through this panel in one piece,” she admits.

“Well,” Shiv says, suddenly agitated. “Take that up with Kendall and Roman.”

“I’ll be taking it up with all three of you tomorrow,” Karolina says. “I need you all on your best behavior.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shiv says. “Regret, responsibility, and remedy. Condemn and move on. Are we missing anything? Maybe, daughter and doormat?”

Karolina frowns. She’d assumed Shiv’s being here was something she wanted—a strategy to stay in the game, not another instance of being walked over. Karolina lowers her voice, suddenly conscious of their position in the room, a pit of wandering eyes and ears.

“Shiv, I won’t let them make you the face for this, you know that, right?” she asks. “If it all goes crashing down—”

“You wouldn’t,” Shiv says, her expression softening. “But I can think of about ten other faces who would.”

“Every one of those faces would have to go through me,” Karolina affirms.

Shiv is weary in her silence, and despite her instincts, Karolina grabs her hand from underneath the table.

“It’ll be fine,” she says. “All of them know how integral it is to have a female voice on the panel tomorrow. We can’t have Rocket Man and Rape Me fronting a situation like this, can we?”

Shiv looks down, worrying her lip slightly.

“What is it?” Karolina asks.

“It just—” Shiv shakes her head, “It feels like I’m losing favor. This can’t go wrong.”

Although Karolina’s entire job is influencing public response—she’s not entirely clairvoyant. She can’t know what people are going to think about Shiv Roy stepping into the role of the spokesperson for a company she doesn’t work for without it looking entirely pandered, and she doesn’t know how it’s going to look internally—despite the fact that nobody’s opinion below the executive floor matters much anyway—but, she does know that this is a huge deal, and huge favor, and the people who really matter shouldn’t take it lightly. Shouldn’t is always the keyword.

“You’re ready,” Karolina says. “We’re going to murder board the hell out of you three tomorrow. You’ll have a response to everything. Just stick to the script.”

“Stick to the script,” Shiv says. She leans in closer, suddenly smirking, “Got any other scripts you want to show me?”

Karolina squeezes her hand and then drops it, biting back a smile as Shiv shifts in impatience.

“If this panel goes well, I might just think of something.”

If.

“You sure there aren’t any we can workshop right now?” Shiv asks. She lowers her voice. “I’d really like to see that murder board you mentioned.”

“No,” Karolina says, though she knows she doesn’t sound confident. “We’re getting up early tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on,” Shiv says. ��You really want to spend the rest of the night watching Tom cockblock himself?”

“And here I thought I was in the clear of hearing about him for the rest of the night.”

“You know he’s been talking about buying a vineyard?” Shiv asks.

Karolina downs the rest of her drink.

“If I take you to my room, can we please stop talking about Tom?”

Shiv can’t hide her smile.

“Only one way to find out.”

—

Karolina isn’t sure how it starts.

From her perspective, the panel goes well. It’s not entirely what they planned, what, with three conflicting personalities sharing one stage, but it worked. They got the message across: Waystar is taking the matter seriously, and they’re not leaving it in the hands of the same kinds of people who buried it under the rug all those years ago. Simple, effective. Condemn and move on. Except, if there’s one thing about the Roy family, it’s that none of them know how to fucking move on.

She’s in the corner of the room with a few members of her team, working on their rapid response plan for once word of the panel inevitably gets out. She’s only half-listening when the siblings re-enter, unsurprisingly still arguing about the events onstage. It’s the usual, Kendall mad at Shiv, and Shiv mad at Kendall, and Roman instigating so it seems like he did anything at all, the conversation not grabbing Karolina’s attention when Marcia’s voice peaks out from the group, a scolding for Shiv, of all people.

Karolina makes her way to the other side of the room, but there’s a building chaos in the short walk and she knows she’s too late to calm any of them with positive public response or statistics. It’s several voices escalating in volume until Logan’s rises above them all, and then there’s a loud crack, and suddenly Roman’s holding Kendall back, a jumble of “Don’t fucking touch her!” and “What the hell, Dad?” and Gerri’s eyes are flitting between Logan’s and Karolina’s, a frantic sort of resolve seeping out of her as she asks, “It played well, right Karolina? They’re saying it played well.”

“It played well,” Karolina automatically confirms, her heart pulsing through her throat as she shifts her eyes on Shiv, hunched over and gripping the side of her face. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands as Kendall and Tom attempt to inspect the wound, a futile effort anyway as Shiv finally regains some composure.

“It’s fine—I’m fine,” Shiv says, dodging the flurry of worried arms and voices as she escapes the room. “Someone get him a fucking Quaalude.”

Broken bits of Shiv’s, now fallen, champagne glass crackle under Tom’s steps as he trails behind her, and it’s only a few seconds between the door slamming shut and Gerri taking charge. Marcia takes Logan away—where to, Karolina doesn’t want to know—and Karolina feels a light tugging on her elbow, and suddenly Gerri’s pulling her into a corner. Gerri looks annoyed, and Karolina wonders if it’s at all similar to the seething sort of rage that’s simmering around in her at what they were just forced to witness, or if it’s closer to inconvenience—another tally on Gerri’s shit-list that she’ll never actually do anything about.

Gerri searches her eyes and under the scrutiny, Karolina crosses her arms, if only to hide the light tremble that she knows is coursing through her hands. Gerri, knowing her better than anyone, knows this as well, reaching out and gripping Karolina’s forearm. She rubs her thumb soothingly up and down, a peace offering before the barking of orders.

“I need you here,” Gerri says softly. Karolina clears her throat.

“I’m here,” she says. Gerri looks guilty for a moment after she’s said it, and Karolina can imagine why, because this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this situation—Karolina troubled by the Logan of it all and Gerri silently pleading with her to keep it together for just another hour—and it’s not unlike the other times Gerri’s sent her the same apologetic regret, as if Karolina’s career at Waystar is something she should’ve stopped all those years ago rather than encouraged. She didn’t always understand it, Gerri’s self-imposed debt felt owed to Karolina, but she thinks she’s starting to now.

Shiv never would’ve been here today if it weren’t for her. She never would’ve been on that stage, saying those things, pissing Logan off enough to do that, if it weren’t for decisions that Karolina had made, had said were good, foolproof even. She’s at fault, a backhand by proxy that she can almost feel pulsing in her own knuckles—an apology she’ll never be able to fulfill, a regret she will never live down.

“I’m here,” she says again, if only to ground herself, and Gerri looks wary, but she nods anyway.

“Okay,” Gerri says, sighing. “Okay, just—go see if Tom needs any help. He still has appearances to make if it can be helped, so—”

“I’ve got it, Gerri,” Karolina says. “Comms will get started on Logan’s statement regarding the panel, if asked. Once that’s briefed, we need everyone on the same page.”

Gerri’s visibly relieved at Karolina’s assertiveness, and she uses that reaction to anchor herself further as Gerri squeezes her arm once more and returns to the leftover crowd, giving everyone firm orders as Karolina leaves the room.

She spots Tom a few halls down, knocking repeatedly on a door that’s clearly not going to be opened.

“Tom,” Karolina says, his worried gaze meeting hers. She doesn’t know what he knows, doesn’t know what he suspects, but he doesn’t look at her with the same kind of threatening contempt he usually does. Right now, it’s just concern. Karolina speaks low, not wanting to be heard through the door. “She say anything?”

Tom shakes his head. “Hasn’t said a word.”

“Okay,” Karolina sighs. “Look—obviously this is, extenuating, but Gerri is requesting that continue the conference as planned—”

“Karolina—”

“Tom—”

“I’m her husband,” he hisses, and they both freeze. Karolina doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t have to say what she is to Shiv, because it’s her hesitation and his response to it—that flash of recognition that if it were Tom, Shiv wanted, he would’ve been through that door already. She’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t actively keeping her from getting Shiv help. “Just—keep me in the loop.”

She waits until he’s gone to knock on the door.

“Shiv?” she calls out. “It’s just me.”

It’s a little while before the lock clicks, and Karolina opens the door carefully, unsure of what she’ll find. It’s not entirely unexpected—bloodied towels on the counter, a disheveled Shiv going back and forth between rinsing out her mouth and attempting to apply pressure—but Karolina doesn’t think any amount of bracing could’ve prepared her for the sight anyway. She locks the door behind her.

“Here to serve the gag order?” Shiv asks, and Karolina has enough humility left in her to feel ashamed that it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Still, she doesn’t dignify the comment with a response.

“To check on you,” she corrects. Shiv pauses in front of the sink, her hands resting on the porcelain bowl. The injured side of her face is hidden from Karolina’s view, and if it weren’t for the splotchy mascara and the red tint of Shiv’s nose, Karolina might not have known anything was wrong at all.

“He meant to hit Roman,” Shiv says, as if it makes the situation any better. Karolina’s not so sure it does, but Shiv sounds sure of it, as if the knowledge that the backhand was meant for someone else can somehow absolve her of experiencing it like she’s the one who got hit. But she was.

“Okay,” Karolina says, even though she doesn’t believe her, and she’s certain Shiv doesn’t either as she turns on the faucet, eyes focused fervently on her hands as she scrubs at imaginary filth. The blood is already gone, so it must be the feeling.

Karolina makes it about fifteen seconds into Shiv’s erratic scrubbing until she can’t watch any longer.

“Shiv,” she says calmly, placing a hand on Shiv’s back. Shiv falters slightly, tensing under Karolina’s touch but not stopping, scrubbing at her nail beds as if she’d spent the entire day digging. Sometimes it’s all Shiv seems to know how to do; dig until her fingertips are raw and her head’s gone too far under far too quickly for Karolina to keep up. By the time Karolina gets there, the hole’s been filled. Whatever Shiv has buried is deep, and whatever Karolina hopes to find will take a lengthy excavation of her own, but that’s usually. This time around, Karolina doesn’t have to search for what Shiv’s trying to bury. It’s red and it’s angry and it’s in the shape of a human hand across the side of Shiv’s face, and Karolina saw it happen. Shiv knows she saw it happen.

Karolina shuts off the faucet before she even really thinks about it, and Shiv pauses, her hands still hovering in the sink. Karolina reaches around her and grabs a clean towel, drying Shiv’s hands wordlessly. She’s surprised that Shiv lets her, surprised that Shiv hasn’t run off already, adamant that she doesn’t need this, that she doesn’t need Karolina, and she’s surprised when Shiv turns around, her arms crossed and thousand-yard stare piercing the entirety of Karolina’s gut. She can see the wound in full now, harsh on Shiv’s pale skin and only getting worse by the second.

And what can she say? I’m sorry he did that. I’m sorry he used you in the face of scandal and then got mad when you tried to make it better. I’m sorry that you were only doing what you were told. I’m sorry that I’m a part of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

How many times can she apologize for the things she can’t control? How many times will she have to look Shiv in the eye and apologize for being a bystander to it all anyway?

“Can I look?” she asks. She doesn’t think she has to; the sound of it was enough to know that the hit would leave a mark, and though it’s not a lot of blood, she wasn’t expecting as much as there actually is.

“Please?” she tries again, like Shiv would be doing her a favor. She thinks Shiv would be, because it’s Karolina at fault here—Karolina’s fault they said yes to the panel, her fault they even let Shiv on that stage—and Shiv lets out a deep, uneven breath and turns slightly, allowing Karolina access to the injury. She winces as Karolina pokes and prods, opens her jaw when Karolina asks her to open it, closes it when she asks her to close it. She discovers the main source of the blood—a loose molar and a chunk of skin missing from the inside of Shiv’s cheek, both of which feel terrible to call lucky, so she doesn’t call them anything at all.

She grabs the wet towel, slowly dabbing at Shiv’s face to clean the lingering mascara and blood, and Shiv closes her eyes, letting Karolina work.

“You did everything right,” Karolina eventually says, because she can’t bear to bring up blame.

“Doesn’t fucking feel like it,” Shiv mumbles.

“I know,” Karolina says. She sets the towel down, her hand coming to rest on the unharmed side of Shiv’s face, thumb grazing the soft skin lightly. Shiv opens her eyes, narrow and distant in the name of resolve, and it’s only a moment before the weight of it all catches up to her and takes her down. She drops her head into the crook of Karolina’s neck, her cries coming out like silent pleas to just make it fucking better, and Karolina doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to start helping beyond the logistical mess of it all.

If they started driving now, how fast could they get back to the city? Should they charter a helicopter instead? How long before the pain sets in Shiv’s brain catches up to the loose molar? How soon could they get something heftier than extra-strength aspirin? Should she take something non-drowsy? What if she has a concussion? Can she take a fucking horse tranquilizer? Is there something that can make her forget? Something that can send them back in time and do everything differently, change whatever’s allowed them to make it to this point?

She holds Shiv tighter, like maybe the more of her that’s touching Shiv, the better she can absorb all of the hurt and replace it with something else. Dull it, at the very least. She’s still unsure of what to say, the right things all seemingly evading her. The simple ones come to the forefront, like what you’d ask a child with a freshly skinned knee, screaming their head off in the middle of the street. Are you injured or are you shocked? But Karolina’s not a mother, and nobody ever bandaged up her scrapes and bruises. It’s a level of comfort she dreads being asked of, something she and Shiv had successfully avoided throughout their entire entanglement, but Shiv didn’t ask for this, and Karolina doesn’t think she’s ever really had anyone to bandage up her bumps and bruises either, so if Karolina is the person Shiv’s letting through that locked door, she’s going to do what needs to be done.

“Does it hurt?” she asks once it seems Shiv’s calmed down a little. She’ll do the job; she just never said it wouldn’t be done poorly.

“What do you think?” Shiv says, pulling away.

Karolina sighs, pulling out her phone. “We need to get you to a dentist.”

“No,” Shiv immediately says. “No—I’m not going to some fucking hokey emergency dentist out here in Bumfuck. I’ll go to my dentist in the morning.”

Karolina doesn’t have to do the math to know that’s far too long to sit with a loose tooth without any medical intervention. Beyond the possible concussion, or jaw injury, or infection risk—

“We need to get you checked out, Shiv,” Karolina says. She must sound serious, because it’s enough for Shiv to lock eyes with her, and it takes all of Karolina’s resolve to stay calm as the tears begin to pool in Shiv’s eyes again. Somehow, she holds her gaze, ignoring the light drum in her stomach when Shiv huffs, her eyes moving to the ceiling.

“As if this isn’t already humiliating enough,” Shiv mumbles. She looks back at Karolina, a wordless sort of pleading that Karolina doesn’t know how to say no to. “I just want to go, Karolina.”

Karolina grips her phone, swallowing down her concerns. She nods, knowing it’s not the time to pick a fight.

“Do you want to see Tom first?” Karolina asks. Normally, she’d be thrilled by Shiv's response. Right now, it’s just sad.

“No,” Shiv says.

“Shiv—”

“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Shiv whispers. “Okay? I just—I just want to leave.”

It’s the unsaid that Karolina clings onto, that somehow Karolina has positioned herself in a place where Shiv is comfortable, a place where the embarrassment is dulled and she’s free to feel, despite Karolina’s perceptions of herself, despite her job, despite her role in all of this, and she won’t let Shiv down. Helicopter, she’s decided.

“I’ll go talk to him and get the flight situated,” she says, but then she stops at the door.

“Shiv—” Shiv looks at her, and Karolina doesn’t know if this is the first time this has happened, if every strike that was meant for Roman actually went to him, or if this is just another occurrence on an itemized list of occurrences, but words sit at the tip of Karolina’s tongue, things she wishes someone had been around to tell her all those years ago, things she wishes she could have understood sooner, first time or not. “It’s not humiliating. It feels that way, but—they all care about you. They do, and they don’t think any less of you.”

Karolina leaves before Shiv has to come up with a response, and she’s grateful that their exile goes smoothly. In some twist of fate, Tom still has to show face at the conference, so she lets him feel useful by having him call in an emergency fill of a narcotic for the ride. She’s hedging her bets on no concussion, supported by the fact that Shiv hasn’t had any claim of a headache and by her refusal to even stop by the summit’s medical staff for a quick check-up. Shiv’s out by the time the helicopter is in the air, and Karolina tries multiple times to get some rest herself with no success, her eyes continuously drawn to the sleeping bundle of red hair on her shoulder, not in her lap because she dazedly agreed to at least wear the seatbelt on the flight if she was going to make Karolina commit fifty other acts of negligence in one night.

Shiv wakes drowsily when they land, and she gets her way in the car when Karolina lets her forgo the seatbelt in favor of resting her head in Karolina’s lap. Karolina spends the duration of the ride brushing her fingers through Shiv’s hair, careful not to touch the swollen skin as it stares up at her. She has the driver go straight to her apartment, because she doesn’t know where to go, but Karolina’s place seems like the safer option, away from prying eyes, away from Tom.

Karolina knows they’ve been distant lately, half of her conversations with Shiv filled with verbose rants over him. If she were Tom, she’d feel pretty shitty right now, but she can’t blame Shiv. It’s hard to seek comfort from someone who’s got one hand in yours and the other in the one that hit you. She’s not entirely sure what makes her different from Tom in this case; they both know that if what happened tonight leaks it’ll be Karolina crafting the narrative, it’ll be Karolina reminding the world that Logan Roy is a tremendous father and while he’s been recovering smoothly, we’d all do well to remember what a strain the past year has been on Mr. Roy’s health.

A confused old man accidentally hits his daughter. It’s a tale so old she actually thinks it might be better for the Roy family if it did leak, tugging on the heartstrings of the American public in the midst of a scandal. See? They’re victims too. All of them. Then, the car runs over a hefty pothole just a block down from Karolina’s building and Shiv winces deeply in her half-slumber, the pads of her fingers digging lightly into Karolina’s thigh, and Karolina regrets thinking it at all.

Maybe that’s the difference; if Karolina were to dig deep, she’d be one hand in Shiv’s and one hand adjacent to Logan’s, and right now, the hand that’s adjacent to Logan is full of a shaking kind of vitriol that she doesn’t think Tom could ever stomach holding over him. Condemn and move on. How can Karolina move on from this? The thing that isn’t, finally in front of their faces, and splattered across Shiv’s in shitty red splotches.

When they pull up in front of Karolina’s building, she drags her feet waking Shiv up. Her doorman gets their bags, and she waits until she imagines he’s about halfway to her front door when she starts kneading her hand into Shiv’s arm, murmuring a soft, “We’re here,” as she does so. Shiv stirs slowly, and Karolina instantaneously feels bad as Shiv’s brows furrow, her whole body tensing up in Karolina’s lap. That means it hurts, and there’s not much else they can do about it at this hour.

“Can you make it up?” Karolina asks, silently hoping that the answer is yes, because the only other alternative is Karolina tipping her doorman to carry Shiv up, and she isn’t so sure which one of them would hate that more.

“Yeah,” Shiv says, her voice nearly sick with pain as she slowly rises from Karolina’s lap.

Karolina steps out of the car first, relieved when the change in lighting seems to have no effect on Shiv. She holds out a hand and Shiv takes it, eyes hanging low as they make their way up to Karolina’s apartment. When they get in, Shiv’s got the bathroom first, Karolina digging around in her medicine cabinet for anything they can mix with what Shiv’s already taken.

Her mind wanders to how normal it is, Shiv’s toothbrush hidden in a drawer, Shiv’s extra clothes with their own shelf in Karolina’s closet, the side of Karolina’s bed that grows colder every night she spends alone. It feels normal, except Karolina’s rummaging around in her medicine cabinet to find a suitable secondary painkiller so Shiv doesn’t spend the entire night writhing in pain because her father nearly knocked her teeth out. Karolina takes a deep breath as she pours out a dose. Her phone lights up out of the corner of her eye every few minutes, likely texts from Gerri and emails from her assistant, and she puts it in her pocket without glancing at the screen, taking the pills and a cup of water to the bathroom.

She finds Shiv with a clean face, inspecting the damage under the harsh light. She sets the water and the pills on the counter, engulfing Shiv in a hug from behind. Shiv instinctively closes her eyes, leaning some of her weight against Karolina as they stand there. Karolina finally has a better look at the fully bloomed wound as well, Shiv’s skin a myriad of different colors trailing from her jawline toward her cheekbone. The worst is on the lower half, swollen slightly, no doubt in part due to the loose tooth. Karolina wishes she were good for anything more than damage control, better at anything other than closing doors and sweeping under rugs, but reasons that’s maybe what Shiv does need—someone to help her clean up the mess.

“Take these,” Karolina says, holding the pills in front of Shiv. Shiv sighs as she grabs them from Karolina, not meeting her eyes through the mirror, and she washes them down with a wince that Karolina assumes is downplayed based on the fact that Shiv didn’t even open her jaw wide enough to let anything more than the pills in. Karolina tries not to dwell on it. She kisses Shiv’s unharmed cheek lightly, and Shiv squeezes one of Karolina’s hands before escaping the embrace to go into the bedroom.

Karolina takes her time as she cleans up, somewhat selfishly she feels as she listens to Shiv rummaging through drawers all alone in her bedroom. It’s not the violence itself that’s still making her hands a little too clammy and her heart beat a little too fast, maybe more so the reminder. It’s like you’d ask a child, are you injured or are you shocked? Karolina would venture to say shocked. Fathers hitting their daughters, a tale as old as time, but it’s not so much a tale when it’s right in front of her. And now it’s in her home. It’s snuck its way under her door frame and into her bed, and it feels somewhat like the first time, a ripe eight-years-old and powerless as her mother cries, so confused as to why any of this is happening at all and terrified to so much as make a move, might she make it all worse somehow. In this case, the only thing she can do is keep moving, keep going forward in the event that something she does can make it better.

Shiv is already in bed by the time she returns to the bedroom, drowning in one of Karolina’s old sleep shirts, and she shakes off the feeling of yet another thing being tainted—her bed, her mirror, her shirt, her pillow, her Shiv. It doesn’t feel fair to say, because Shiv has always been wounded and it’s never changed much. She’s always walked around with a gaping hole in her chest whether she ever wanted anyone to notice or not, but the difference now is that she can’t hide it, and Karolina can’t choose to not look at it.

She climbs in bed next to Shiv, careful not to disturb her too much as she settles down, unsure of how close she’s wanted, but Shiv immediately leans back into Karolina and she assumes she’s wanted plenty, dropping a light kiss to the crown of Shiv’s head.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“It’s bearable,” Shiv says, and bearable doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, so Karolina just smooths Shiv’s hair, waiting for Shiv to fall asleep.

—

Shiv doesn’t talk about it. Not really. She wakes up the next morning and she makes an emergency dentist appointment, and she doesn’t even ask Karolina to go with, not in those words entirely, but she does say they’ll likely have to put her under, and Karolina doesn’t have to think twice before saying that she’ll call the driver and go with, just in case.

It’s a uniquely infuriating kind of feeling, having Shiv curled up on her couch with perpetually teary eyes and an ice pack hiding a mess of bruising that had only gotten worse overnight. Karolina had felt sick when she woke up and saw it, as if she’d been tricking herself into believing it wasn’t as hard of a hit as it actually was, a lighter bruising even pooling under her eye.

Karolina’s grateful that it’s a scheduled travel day for the executive team, hoping the pseudo-day off will give her the time to figure out how she’s going to face Logan when she returns to the office. How she’s going to pretend that Shiv doesn’t mean anything to her this time around, that her loyalty is to Waystar and by extension Logan, and that his image her top priority even though every time she thinks about him the only thing she can see is her own father’s backhand racing down for a strike. She knows it’s a mess of her own making. No one gave her the handbook, but she saw the signs, and she stayed. She welcomed it into her life and made herself a part of it. She tricks herself. She lets Logan yell at her until her legs feel like Jell-O and her tongue is crawling down the inside of her own throat and then an hour later, she laughs about it by the coffee cart as if it’s just all just some small misunderstanding. They all do it, they downplay and they pretend, because it’s easier than dealing with the truth.

Even now, molar hanging on by a literal thread, any emotion Shiv’s carried over from the night previous has been replaced with an it’s fine, it’s not that bad, and Karolina knows that’s what Shiv is accustomed to. Knows that Shiv shutting her eyes tight and talking as normally as she can through a tight and swollen jaw while on the phone with Tom is all she knows how to do. To satiate everyone else completely. Forget that it’s a big deal, just move on.

Karolina doesn’t understand how not to make this a big deal, but she doesn’t want to make it more difficult for Shiv. She doesn’t shove another ice pack in Shiv’s face when she gets off the phone, doesn’t question why the pills she left out are sitting untouched on the nightstand, doesn’t even bother to tease Shiv over wearing another item of clothing from Karolina’s closet like she normally would; she barely wants to breathe, afraid to mess up whatever semblance of equilibrium is left in Shiv’s orbit in case anything at all turns out to be the last straw.

She briefly wonders if it’s worse this way, dancing around the hard truth that Shiv Roy is a human, not immune to having pierceable skin and breakable bones, but she figures this is how Shiv wants it; downplayed. If Shiv doesn’t take a pill, then Karolina doesn’t have to know that it hurts.

The only thing is that Karolina does know that it hurts. She can feel the sharp pain that splinters from the hinge of her jaw to the base of her neck. Understands the earache, the weary, tired eyes, the persistent taste of iron in her mouth, and the way that everything seems to move a little slower, feel a little less real. She knows so much yet so little, because she’s not inside Shiv’s mind and she can’t tell what Shiv’s thinking, so she doesn’t hover. She just does what she’s asked, and she does what she can, and she doesn’t pressure Shiv into doing what she can’t.

She ignores the too-pale hands that clutch around her arm on the way down to the car, doesn’t pull out her phone when it buzzes a dozen different times because she doesn’t want Shiv to see all the names of the people who have let her down in the last thirty-two years as they come up on her caller-id, and puts on her most dazzling smile inside the dentist’s office as Shiv recounts the story that’s caused her ailment; an embarrassing tumble during some turbulence on the private jet. I should’ve listened to the stewardess—guess it’s one way to make time for the dentist, right?

Karolina makes sure to write the cover story down in her notes. It’s not the first she’s ever had on file for a Roy, and it’s not even the first that’s left her feeling wrong and wondering if she’s ever had any morals to begin with, but it is the first that she can’t reason with. She can’t decipher a why she’s doing it at all, the only lingering explanation is that it’s for Shiv. She’s doing what Shiv wants. What Shiv needs. She recalls Shiv’s quiet confidence walking into the examination room with the dentist, like she hadn’t been squeezing Karolina’s hand up to the very point that the car door opened outside the building, and she wonders what else she’s missed, how many other things she’s allowed Shiv to shrug off without question.

She swallows down the thought, settling into the private waiting room that she imagines the hokey dentist in Bumfuck wouldn’t have had. She pulls out her phone, searching for one voice on the other end of the line.

“Prognosis?” Gerri asks. Karolina’s relieved to hear her voice, relieved to hear anything beyond Shiv’s pain-induced silence and her own racing thoughts. She can hear fading voices in the background of Gerri’s end, meaning they’re likely not on the road yet.

“That we don’t get paid enough,” Karolina can’t stop herself from saying, even though she knows deep down that at this point, there’s no world where her debt with Shiv requires any payment at all. Because wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that she was wiping blood from Kendall’s nose? Getting him blow because even though they all know he should be the last person contacting shareholders, she did it anyway? She’s a cacophony of transactions, but she’s losing sight of a number that excuses any of it. Gerri sighs on the other end.

“Negotiations are off,” she says.

Karolina knows it’s wrong that her immediate reaction is satisfaction, because she also knows how much this is going to impact the shitstorm that’s already clouding each of them, but she can’t help it. It feels like some sort of check and balance in the name of a restorative justice that will never be served, and she holds onto it. It’s something.

“And the article?” Karolina asks. Gerri makes no note of the fact that it’s Karolina’s job to know.

“We’re moving to internal investigations,” Gerri says. “We’ll be outsourcing a firm—no word yet on who our lucky match will be.”

“Great,” Karolina says, and even though it’s a private room, she still speaks lower. “Your bases are covered, right?”

“Blindsided by the article,” Gerri feigns. It’s another painful reminder of who they are and what they do, and though Karolina was blindsided, a part of her always knew. The rumors about cruises were inescapable in the PR department and there are no rumors at Waystar that come without basis.

“I don’t know when I’ll be in the office, but there’s no official communication that doesn’t go through me,” Karolina says. “We have enough messes.”

She hates to refer to her current predicament as a mess, because it’s nothing she feels burdened to clean up. Nobody’s forcing her to sit in this dentist's office, and certainly nobody’s forcing her to open her apartment doors, and her bed sheets, and her top left dresser drawer, but she can’t say that. Not even to Gerri.

“How’s our archeologist?” Gerri asks.

“Undergoing a root canal,” Karolina says. “They can save the tooth, so, some good news, I guess.”

“Good,” Gerri says. Karolina can hear papers shuffling in the background, and she’s dreading the amount of catch-up she’s going to have to do just from missing one day in the office. “Where’s her head at?”

“I think she’d like to pretend it never happened,” Karolina admits. Shiv hasn’t said it yet, but she can’t imagine this being the hill that Shiv Roy would choose to die on. Gerri hums on the other end, and Karolina can guess how the rest of the trip is going. She can only hope someone did actually get Logan a fucking Quaalude.

“Logan would be pleased with that,” Gerri says, and even though she says it sarcastically, the sentiment alone is enough to crack Karolina’s outward indifference.

“Well, as long as Logan’s pleased,” she snipes. Gerri’s silent on the other end for a moment and Karolina waits for the usual lecture, that Karolina cares too much and you’re not their babysitter, Karolina, just do what’s in your purview and nothing more, which is always cheap talk coming from Gerri anyway, but it doesn’t come.

“And how’s your head?” Gerri asks.

Karolina sighs, running a hand over her eyes. They both know this call was never about business. “Haven’t had any complaints, Ger.”

“Very funny,” Gerri says, and Karolina can’t find it in herself to be too satisfied, but she can picture the look of fond disdain in Gerri’s silence, and she finds a little bit of comfort in the image. “Seriously, Karolina…if you need the cavalry to step in—"

“It’s fine, Gerri,” Karolina says. “I’m fine.”

Because Gerri knows. She’s heard the stories and she’s seen the remnants herself. She’s the first pair of eyes on Karolina the second Logan’s a little too aggressive and the first voice in her ear when she thinks Karolina’s about to crack, but it’s different this time. It’s not about her, it’s about being there for Shiv.

“She’s not your responsibility,” Gerri finally says. It’s an act of protection, Karolina knows this, and she can rationalize Gerri’s point of view—Karolina inserting herself into a ticking time bomb of a family, putting herself right at the center of something she’s spent her entire adult life trying to escape—but Karolina had never done anything to earn Gerri’s protection. It was something Gerri decided on, something she felt she could give, and it shouldn’t be any different for Karolina. Gerri’s right, Shiv isn’t her responsibility, but Karolina still owes her something. There’s a sense of security that Shiv is now cashing in. If Karolina were to break that, what would it make her?

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Karolina replies.

Gerri doesn’t have anything to say to that.

—

Karolina’s created an entire action plan for monitoring news about cruises and drafted up about four different press releases by the time Shiv gets out (her favorite is the one where she’s announcing Hugo’s retirement).

Shiv seems to be in a lot less pain after the procedure, hunkering down on Karolina’s couch as soon as they get back to the apartment. Karolina’s still trying her best not to hover, but there’s also a part of her that can’t settle down, so she compromises by sitting on the couch adjacent to Shiv and opens her laptop for the first time in over twenty-four hours. She forwards the action plan to her team for review and does a few indirect searches regarding Waystar and the news. It’s not as bad as she was fearing. There’s a bit of a rocky perception from the conference that’s mostly shrouded in inconsistent messaging, but it’s nothing she can’t work with.

It’s a while before Shiv stirs, and Karolina doesn’t take the time for granted, ordering soft groceries and panic-searching everything she can about root canals and molar splinting and if there’s somehow still a risk of concussion even though it’s been a full twenty-four hours and Shiv has never even once complained about a headache.

She left a pair of pills out on the coffee table, a light prescription from the dentist should Shiv need it, and she pretends not to watch when Shiv finally sits up and analyzes the display as Karolina types away. Shiv takes them, Karolina glad that she’s no longer participating in whatever emotionally charged abstinence she was displaying earlier in the day. Shiv leaves the room wordlessly, and Karolina distracts herself with work while she waits for Shiv to return, careful to listen out for any signs that might make her needed. She’s about to give in and check on Shiv when she appears back in the living room, a pillow from Karolina’s bed in her hand, and she lays down right up against Karolina. Karolina instinctively drops a hand in Shiv’s hair, scratching lightly as Shiv gets comfortable again.

“You need anything?” Karolina asks.

“Just this,” Shiv says quietly. “And to not have wires poking my cheeks like I’m fucking fourteen.”

“I can only help with one of those things, unfortunately,” Karolina says, brushing back a lock of hair.

“Really?” Shiv hums. “You’re supposed to be a fixer.”

It’s not meant to be a jab, but Karolina can’t help the way it hits her. Fixing something like this is out of her depth, no matter how much she wishes it wasn’t.

“How’s the rest of it?” Karolina asks. The dentist checked out Shiv’s jaw, figuring it was most likely just sore from the hit, but did refer Shiv to a specialist in case there are any lasting issues. Karolina, naturally, is on edge about the possibility of another complication, but Shiv doesn’t need that from her. She needs reassurance, a strong hand to hold. Not shaky.

“Hurts,” Shiv says. “Maybe Dad’s true calling was the ring.”

Shiv can’t see Karolina, so she doesn’t even attempt feigned amusement. She doesn’t think that’s what Shiv was going for anyway, what, with the deadpan tone and the fully deepened bruise. It’s then, that Shiv’s phone rings from the coffee table. They both look at it, Dad, popping up in big bright letters on the caller ID. Shiv’s knuckles pale as her hand clenches into a tight fist, her thumbnail worrying itself into the skin of her fingers.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Karolina reassures. Shiv nods, digging a hand into her eyes. She must hit her bad eye the wrong way, because she yelps out in pain before her entire body goes rigid under Karolina’s hand.

“What is it?” Karolina asks worriedly, sitting up. Shiv exhales slowly, her body releasing some of the tension as she does so, but her face still clearly expressing the discomfort she must be feeling as she attempts to breathe through the pain.

“I just—moved too fast,” Shiv says.

“Okay,” Karolina says. “That’s okay, let’s just take it easy. I’m going to get some ice.”

Shiv nods and Karolina carefully gets up, once again pushing back the immediate concern that comes with Shiv not denying care. She returns to the living room with the ice pack and kneels in front of the couch, brushing a thumb across Shiv’s forehead as she hands it over. Shiv hesitantly holds it against the side of her face, and Karolina continues to brush Shiv’s hair, waiting patiently for her breathing to return to a normal pattern, and she’s relieved when it does.

“Why don’t we get comfortable in bed?” Karolina asks, and Shiv shakes her head lightly right away.

“No,” Shiv says. “Can we—will you stay here?”

“Of course,” Karolina says. It’s not often Shiv asks her for anything—she’s barely asked anything of Karolina throughout this entire ordeal—and even if she did, Karolina would never say no. “I’m wherever you want me.”

She gets back on the couch, and Shiv settles against her once more. Karolina draws light patterns along her side, only pausing when her laptop dings with an email, and she closes it before they have to hear any more.

“I’m sorry,” Shiv says, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Karolina says. “And you don’t have to talk to me right now, either.”

“It’s fine, I just—forgot about my eye,” Shiv says. Forgot. As in, Shiv’s not used to having shiners that she has to be careful not to touch, and she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t even have one to be careful with in the first place. Karolina tries not to dwell on that part of the conversation, doesn’t want her anger to seep through the comfort that she’s supposed to be supplying.

“Just, don’t push it, Shiv,” she ends up saying.

“That’s my big skill, Kay,” Shiv says. Karolina’s heart lurches at the nickname, Shiv’s voice far too frail and far too defeated.

“You did what was asked of you,” Karolina says. What I asked of you. “You tried to make things better.”

“I don’t even know why I did,” Shiv says. “I should’ve just let Kendall have his fucking moment.”

“With that plausible deniability bullshit?” Karolina asks. “You said some hard truths, Shiv. That isn’t a crime.”

And the punishment certainly didn’t fit the bill.

“Still, I should’ve known better,” Shiv argues lightly.

“Should’ves won’t get you anywhere,” Karolina says. “You could’ve read a script Logan had written himself, and this still would’ve happened.”

Shiv is silent as she mulls over the words. They both know Karolina’s right, that nothing is good enough for Logan Roy unless it’s his words coming out of his own mouth. Shiv removes the ice pack and Karolina reaches out to put it on the table for her. She intertwines their hands, shivering slightly at how cold Shiv’s is.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Shiv eventually says. “What to say to him.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Karolina tells her. “This isn’t your mistake to fix.”

“You don’t know what it’s like with him. Everything is our fucking fault.”

“I know what it’s like—”

“To work for him,” Shiv interrupts. “Not to have him as a dad.”

Karolina brings Shiv’s hand to her lips gently. Shiv’s skin still smells like the lavender body wash she likes to steal out of Karolina’s bathroom, and it’s nothing like blood, or sweat, or angry fathers.

“I had my own dad, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Nothing was ever good enough for him, either.”

Shiv stills, her fingers fidgeting in Karolina’s hand.

“I mean, but did he…” Her voice trails off, but Karolina doesn’t have to work very hard to figure out what the question is supposed to be.

“He did,” Karolina says quietly. “And thinking about everything that I should’ve done—it never made anything better. There’s no world where he wanted to be anything other than what he was. It took me a long time to accept that.”

Shiv sits up and Karolina meets her troubled eyes with a calm gaze. Shiv looks her up and down as if she’s inspecting her, like she can’t quite imagine the Karolina she knows ever having any man-made imperfections. Karolina knows when a light scar catches Shiv’s eye, remnants of a thinly split brow in ’98, one that’s difficult to notice unless you’re searching. It was a humiliating affair that left her facing reality for the first time when she was a doe-eyed intern at Waystar and a certain member of the legal department who’d taken her on as some sort of mentee inquired why she came back from the Thanksgiving holiday roughed up. Karolina said she had brothers; her background check didn’t add up.

(Then came a small note on the inside of her planner reading that she’d have to get better at cover-ups if she wanted a future in PR. The next half was an address, and an open invitation for the winter holiday should she choose not to spend it with her brothers.)

Shiv brushes her thumb across the scar, faded and not Karolina’s biggest takeaway from that period of her life, and Karolina grabs the hand, bringing Shiv’s knuckles to her lips once more. Shiv’s eyebrows are furrowed in a pitiful sort of sadness that she doesn’t mind too much coming from Shiv. Coming from someone who understands.

“What are you thinking?” Karolina asks.

Shiv shakes her head lightly and sniffs. “That I’m tired of this bullshit,” she says, attempting to keep the tears at bay. “That I don’t know if I can walk away.”

Karolina takes a deep breath, attempting to not let the conversation get to her the way it feels like it is, poking and prodding at her gut.

“You don’t have to,” Karolina says. “You don’t have to do anything. All of it, it’s your choice.”

“But you walked away?” Shiv asks, as if Karolina has the right answer. She wishes she did.

“Shiv, my father…there was no room for conversation,” Karolina says, unable to control the slight shake in her voice. “If I kept going back—”

She doesn’t like to think about it, the way his anger kept building the less it seemed she needed him. Just like she doesn’t indulge in should’ves, she doesn’t like to think about the what ifs. Staying just wasn’t an option.

Logan seems to carry the same propensity for rage, but with a level of regret that sucks everyone back in. She doesn’t know what she would do in Shiv’s position either; it’s not hard to go back to someone who understands that they’re supposed to say sorry. And maybe that’s why she’s put up with Logan for so long herself. It’s nice to imagine a father who knows what he does is wrong, even if that doesn’t make it right.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Shiv says, but the words sound wrong coming out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, too,” Karolina says. Then a nagging question appears on her tongue, one that’s been eating away at her from the moment she stepped into that bathroom. “You said—that he meant to hit Roman?”

Shiv looks away then, as if guilty of something.

“He wouldn’t—I mean, it wasn’t often, but he—” Shiv stumbles through her words. “I mean, we were kids. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t me.”

Her voice cracks at the end, and Karolina gently pulls Shiv into her, holding her tightly. She can imagine how confusing it must be, to go your whole life feeling some sort of distance from the violence, even if it was occasional. It’s not like Shiv has been spared any of Logan’s mind games, but even then, there’s a level of comfortability that she most likely reached in it. Whatever her normal was with Logan, he destroyed that.

“Have they just been carrying this with them their entire lives?” Shiv asks.

It’s a loaded question, one Shiv deserves an honest answer to. Karolina doesn’t like to believe it’s something she’s always carrying. It’s there, and it affects her in ways she wishes it didn’t, but she doesn’t think it has total control. She laughs, and she cries, and she still can’t stand the scent of Lucky Strike Reds without it making her skin itch a little, but she loves the scent of the Marlboros Shiv loves to pull out at the end of a long and drunken night at a Waystar event. It’s give and take, things come and go, but she’s still her, regardless of what she’s carrying and how much.

“Shiv, it all fucking sucks. Whether he’s spitting your name or spitting in your face,” Karolina says. She rubs a comforting thumb along Shiv’s arm. “Haven’t you already been carrying things your entire life, too?”

The question brings a discomfort to Shiv that she can Karolina immediately. It’s not normally her place to point out the flaws in Shiv’s upbringing, and it’s not a topic they’ve ever broached until tonight, but it needed to be pointed out. Shiv thinks this is the first time she’s suffered under Logan’s hand. Karolina would argue that Shiv doesn’t know what it’s like to not suffer under him.

“What do you think I should do?” Shiv asks, ignoring Karolina’s question. Karolina hates when Shiv does this, when she looks at Karolina like she has all the answers. Like whatever thing she’s about to say is an absolute that Shiv will let herself be ruled by, despite acting like she doesn’t ever really want anyone’s input at all. That’s where her responsibility lies, in being honest with Shiv. She thinks Shiv knows that, or at least, Karolina hopes she does.

“I think that wounds heal and scars fade,” Karolina says, piecing together her thoughts. “I think…that your father isn’t someone who’s going to change, but I think he might say that he’s sorry. It’s not a bad thing, if you’re willing to let it go. It’s not a bad thing if you can’t forget it, either.”

“I’m tired of being terrified of him,” Shiv whispers through a teary breath.

“I know,” Karolina says.

“If—if I walk away,” Shiv swallows, “What happens to this?”

This. Karolina’s not even sure she can define what this is in the current moment, but she can still recall her life without Shiv in it, and Karolina knows one thing is certain.

“Absolutely nothing will change.”

#tumblr user jeniffercheck posting a shivlina fic in the year 2024??? #we lived to see the day #shivlina #shivlina fic #shiv x karolina #karolina novotney #shiv roy #succession fic #duskfalls

[copperbadge]

Sam - You probably already know this, but I just heard that Adderall is now on back-order nationwide (even worse than it had been before). If you can start trying to re-order it well before you run out this time, I'd recommend it. I don't know if that's possible, though...

Unfortunately -- but also fortunately! -- it’s not possible. Because it’s a controlled substance that can both be abused by the patient and sold for a reasonable profit, it’s got very firm regulations. You get one scrip for a 30 day supply (you can’t have more) and then on day 30 you can file a whole new scrip (no refills!) for your next 30 day supply. This is a bit bullshit because there’s no real reason not to give someone who has a history of regular non-abuse a 90 day supply or two refills, but it’s legal meth, so you know, I see why the bullshit is in place. 

So it’s Bad, obviously, because it means I can’t get a refill now while there might be some still in stock; my 30-day deadline is next Friday and there’s no moving that. So that’s me fucked a bit. However, this is also Good, because it means nobody else can do this either -- you can’t create artificial demand when it comes to Adderall, because nobody can buy out the entire stock or take more than their share. So while it would be much more ideal if I had renewed my scrip last week, the demand will only rise as much as the immediate action of people who are normally slow to fill their scrips, which I can’t imagine is a lot. Like yes we all have executive dysfunction but I think a lot of us have a real laser focus on the Good Brain Drug, you know? 

The real problem is an uneven backstock. Some pharmacies will probably have a reasonable amount, others will be out for weeks.  The pharmacy I use is a perpetually-empty Walgreens that nobody ever goes into or uses because nobody lives near it (I work near it) so I might get lucky. 

Usually, so far, the protocol for me has been "every 30 days have a consult with my psychiatrist, he puts in a new scrip, they fill it". This time, OF COURSE this time, we're trying something new -- he wrote two scrips at once, one got filled, the other one gets submitted by me on the 30 day mark. So I’ll call the pharmacy on Monday and be like “I’m not freaking out about the shortage, I just need to know when I should submit a scrip that can’t be filled until Friday” but hopefully I’ll also get some info on the shortage. 

And if I can’t get any immediately, well, I take frequent breaks and often don’t take my second dose, so I did the math in my tracking sheet and I have enough to see me halfway into November, especially if I don’t take any on weekends. I don’t love breaking into my personal backstock, but that’s why it exists, after all. This is a much bigger deal for people who really need the drug for basic function -- people on higher doses are going to be significantly more fucked. 

I may ask my psych next time I see him if I could get on a 20mg scrip so I can split the tabs and make a 30 day supply last 60 days; I don’t think it’s normally something he’d approve of but with the shortage it might be the best way to secure a reasonably-sized emergency stash. 

And I think all of this -- the spreading of the news, the counting of backstock pills, the strategies to stabilize one’s personal supply -- are really fascinating evidence of how treating non-addicts like addicts...makes them behave like addicts. If half the population of Adderall patients had a 90 day supply in hand, this shortage wouldn’t be such an issue. 

#adderall #sam has adhd #drug use

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everyone. New year, new story. This one is kind of a niche one. It's a PJO!AU, and also keep in mind the myth of Achilles and Patroclus. I wanted to write about destiny and tragedy, and maybe succeeding in escaping them. As always, comments are more than welcome. Enjoy💜

When Charles enters the room, he knows that this is where his battle starts, still miles away from the actual battlefield.

He gently pushes the door to the infirmary open, and is not surprised to see the other sat on the bed, looking as though he had tried to stand up but failed, with his head in his hands and a bandage already stained with blood on his left thigh.

The blonde looks up, and in his eyes he can see the red hue, but not because of his father's powers. They are bloodshot and puffy.

He'd like to kneel in front of him, rebandage his wounds and comfort him, but he can't. He has to be strong. For the camp, for their friends, for him.

So he just walks until he is in front of Sebastian, gathering enough courage to pose the fatal question.

Everything seems to vibrate with the sound of the incoming tragedy, history repeating itself, never ending sorrow.

"Seb, where is the armour?" That's it, quick, simple, clean.

Many emotions cross his face, and then they all disappear, leaving behind a blank mask.

"No" he says, final.

"Seb, you know I have to. I'm the only one that's left to do it" he can feel the fear starting to make itself known, but he can't let it win, not today.

"Charles, you are not doing it. We'll find somebody else. Hades, I'll do it myself"

Even if his tone is low, his words are firm.

"Seb, there is literally nobody else. It's either me or we lose" And just as he says it, the desperation is starting to feel like something solid.

"I said no. Give me some ambrosia and nectar and I'll deal with it" As he says the words, he pushes on the bed to stand up. It's not even a half step later that his legs give out, and his knees dropping on the wooden floor.

Charles could see it coming, but he did nothing to stop his fall or help him up.

"Sebastian, look at you. You can't even stand, and other ambrosia will kill you, we both know it. Just give it to me, and then..."

"And then what, Charles? I watch you leave camp to never come back? Because you and I both know how this story ends"

"Thanks for the vote of trust" But even as he says it, he knows it's not about trust. It's about prophecies, about destiny, about eternal returns.

But Charles has to raise his temper, so that this will be an angry goodbye, not a sad one.

And, just like he always does, the son of Ares sees through his strategy, and the fury quickly fades.

But without anger, all that's left is shaky voices and wet eyes.

"Charlie, please, listen to me. Stay here, at camp. Defend the children. Let me go" he says as if it's the most logical thing in the world. Or, even if it were, as if Charles is going to listen to logic. He never has. He is not about to.

"Seb, we could fucking see your femur through the beast's slashes like two hours ago. Nectar is not magic. I believe in you more than I've ever believed in them, but even you have your limits. We are still human, Seb" he keeps talking while helping the other on his feet, leaving one of his hands in his and intertwining their fingers.

"So help me put on your armour, then let's go doing what we can to save as many lives as we can" This time he doesn't stop the shaking, doesn't stop the tears, but keeps looking straight into Sebastian's eyes, trying to express all that he can't say through them, trying to impress the colours there into his mind for the last time.

Even as Seb shakes his head, Charles knows he has won. Not because of the power of his words that he will use to rile up every remaining fighter towards the battlefield, but because he can see the despair, hopeless and cruel and inescapable.

He presses his free hand to his cheek, and slowly kisses him as if they have all the time in the world. One last kiss, one last shared breath.

When he pulls back, Seb uses their connected hand to lead him to his cabin, limping slightly.

It's dark and empty, all his siblings guarding the still too young kids.

Gods, they all are still too young for this. But they don't have a choice, it's either this or failure, and failure is not acceptable, for neither of them.

Sebastian's bed is the one nearest to the front. His evident need to always protect makes Charles smile, and it also makes him fall even more in love with Seb.

From beneath it, the blonde takes what looks like the sturdiest armour of all times: the Celestial Bronze culrass shone into the low lights, the helmet with its red crest, the wooden aspis.

Charles accepted all of it, except for the xiphon. He will not leave behind his Bronzen spear, nor his Stygian Iron dagger.

Dressed in Sebastian's armour, with the long cheek guards hiding his face, he knows he can get the other campers to fight. He has to.

Sebastian stares at him, maybe thinking this is the last time they will see each other. But Charles knows it is not. Even if he were to die today, he knows his soul will find Sebastian's. Even in another life, they are predestined.

When he begins to turn, Sebastian gently raises his still tied hand to his lips and he kisses his wrist.

"We will meet again. I swear it on the Styx" he professes in ancient greek.

With a final smile, Charles turns towards the door, towards where all the other campers are bundled.

He isn't Charles Leclerc anymore, Monegasque son of Aphrodite with the most powerful charmspeak of the last 3 centuries.

He now is Sebastian Vettel, German son of Ares, ready to lead his cabin towards the battle, ready to win it.

#charles leclerc #sebastian vettel #sebchal #pjo inspired #Pachilles inspired #the reunion will be written #because that's the actual scene i wanted to write rn #but the need for context and coerence plagues me #don't worry this will have a happy ending idc about the original myth #also could turn into part one of a Greek mythology inspired series #aggressive-sweet dog x retired old man

[houseofbrat]

If Kate was adamant she didn’t want this information out there before Easter, what strategies could’ve been deployed by their PR to prevent this mess? Hyperactive information environment or not, if she didn’t change that position, all the PR can do is follow the strategy and brief editors that there’s a very good reason for the radio silence and promise an update after Easter. The only thing I can think of is releasing regular ‘doctors are pleased with Kate’s progress and expect her to be back to Royal duties after Easter’ statements to manage expectations. Also presuming she didn’t want to take part in any ‘at home recovering’ style images or videos for social which given the circumstances is understandable. The big mistake was bowing to pressure and releasing an image on Mother’s Day that ended up blowing up in their faces. If they felt compelled to release something, an older picture with the caveat that it was taken last year as the Princess is still recovering and not posing for photos at this time would’ve been better.

If their hands were truly tied, then yeah, there's not a lot they can do. I think an important take-away is that we always need to be able to not only articulate what's going to happen in a given situation, but also explain why. In this particular case, by leaving an information vacuum, they created a much worse outcome. I hope someone explained that clearly to "The Firm". Of course we saw much worse with Andrew and his disastrous live interview where he wasn't able to answer basic questions, or even pivot to key messages. There is clearly a lot wrong with how the family handles the media - it's nothing new, but it is definitely broken.

Original statement should have given less detail. “Abdominal surgery”+10-14 day hospital stay+3 month recovery timeframe is just enough info to invite people to try to solve the puzzle. 

 2) Royal watchers twigged something was off early on because of KP’s unusual silence when they are known for being leaky as a sieve. Their usual MO is a constant drip of vacuous puff pieces by the Royal Rota. A good PR strategy would have been to continue feeding the Wales and Middleton happy perfect family stories (the kids have made their mum get well cards! Carole’s been by her daughter’s side! William is making breakfasts by hand!) This could have been done with no involvement on Kate’s part and a minimal burden on William to approve the briefs. Instead the absence of the usual drip drip drip got the public’s attention, especially in contrast to Buckingham Palace’s steady-on strategy for Charles’s procedure and cancer. 

 3) PR can only do so much about their principal’s demeanor and I can’t get too much on William’s case for his noticeably weird behavior while he’s been dealing with his wife’s cancer diagnosis. But at minimum someone should be empowered enough to look the man in the eye and had him practice saying “She’s recovering from her procedure, thank you for your concern” so that he could reel off that line when people or press asked him about Kate during his engagements. His pretending not to hear thing did NOT help.  

 4) I agree they should have never released the Mother’s Day photo. Nor the two car pap photos, which were obviously not candid but clumsy attempts to address speculation. Each one was fuel to the fire. The effort would have been better spent on a simple statement signed by Kate saying the PoW thanks the public for their concern, she appreciates the cards, and she reiterates her desire for privacy at this time. 

This woman was failed at every conceivable point.

Silence during a crisis breeds suspicion and speculation. Social media provides a broad, uncontrollable platform and rewards those who amplify the nonsense.

Mother’s Day presented a prime opportunity. An IG story with a carousel of past photos of Kate & the kids and a 15 sec voiceover of Kate saying:

”Thank you so much for all your well wishes. I’m looking forward to returning to my duties when I’m cleared to do so. I’ll be celebrating Mother’s Day quietly with my husband and children this year but I hope you all have a lovely day.”

There were any number of ways that Kate could have been briefly engaged without being intrusive or needing to show her face.

It should never have come to this.

Or a picture of her as a child with HER mom. Isn’t the point of Mother’s Day to honor your own mother, not tout your role as a mom? A nice post about her mom with some pictures of her would have been lovely.

My sense through this is that the PR people (who are professionals and handle sticky situations all the time) had their hands tied by what William and Kate did and did not want to do. Given the circumstances it is understandable that they would back down and follow the couple's script - even as they watched fires pop up all over that they were not allowed to address.

A lot of people on here who don’t understand there is a family of people who are “royals” and The Royal Family which is a public institution and has responsibility for public service and some constitutional duties, aka The Firm.

Does Kate deserve privacy? Sure.

Does, “The Princess of Wales” get to take 4 months away from her public duties without explaining why? No. It’s not how The Firm works. Does Kate get to approve PR about The Princess of Wales? Maybe, maybe not. That title belongs to the institution.

So these are two separate things. And this has been a great example of how digital and social media means carrying on with two distinct entities, is likely no longer viable.

The information that she was having surgery was already out. However, announcing that Charles had cancer as well while he was still being seen out was what led people to come up with wild theories. If the king can walk around with cancer then Kate can go out for a quick I'm ok wave was the thinking. And let's be real here, there is soooooo much more going on than they'll say. There was absolutely NO reason for a photo collage of a moment that never existed. She was already seen in the car with her mom -allegedly her because puffy faces don't go away that quickly - yet they felt the need to not say a darn thing. Either disappear until Easter with vague updates or quit with the pranks. I believe her when she said they weren't expecting cancer, and I'm sure there were already other high stake activities in occurrence, which led to them scrambling for cover. She's not the first public figure to get a life-threatening illness either. We all wish them the best as we would any mom with kids, but they're also living on public acceptance and dollars. They also threw her under the bus a couple times and it got RIDICULOUS.

They didn’t need to prove to the public that she was well. I know the monarchy has a history of hiding illness and I get that, but photoshopping a photo to prove that she is well went too far. The public isn’t dumb. She had major surgery she isn’t going to look herself. They should have posted a more simple statement for surgery, they should’ve posted a statement from her saying “thank you for your well wishes, I look forward to getting back to my duties when able” and then maybe a post on Mother’s Day of her children or her mother and sister.

VERY simple things would’ve prevented the fiasco and maybe given them more time to deal with this in private. They may have still made the announcement on Friday but all of this abuse could’ve been avoided. They made it seem like she was dead and The Firm was pulling a Weekend at Bernie’s.

Pull a classroom full of any PR majors from ANY school ANYWHERE and they all could’ve protected her and her family more than their freaking comms team. It’s an absolute abomination and embarrassment. I really hope they fire all the people involved. They brought so much shame and embarrassment to the crown.

I'm sure a lot of non PR professionals who have an understanding of the standard playbook for public figures and basic competence in business/personal communication could have done better than the "professionals" they hired. Some of it is ... not that hard. I mean, I'd have to think about Mother's Day - just the kids? W or C as kidlets with their moms or what? But thank early, thank often. Charles isn't spilling all his tea but he and his team have hit their marks and there is far less crazy chatter about him. If this is William's notion of "modernizing the monarchy" it's going to be a bumpy ride. As we used to say "don't throw the baby out with the bath water".

Why does a cancer patient need PR? There is nothing shameful about cancer. I get she needed time to process. There is still so much ambiguity around this. “Abdominal Surgery” “Cancer” but not specifying what type of cancer.

I don't understand why so many people are blaming their PR team or William ("he made her take the blame for the photoshopped picture!")

Kate is married to the future King of England. She has enormous power. She isn't Meghan Markle trying to adjust to life in the palace while married to "the spare." She isn't a mid level Royal. She isn't Andrew, Edward, Eugenie, Beatrice etc. People act like she has no power and influence over her team.

The reality is according to a post on X from a person who broke the news about her condition before the media did so apparently has some sort of inside information Kate has known she has cancer since January and started chemo after the surgery. She most likely did that at the hospital since it might be traumatizing for the younger children to do it at home and she didn't want to travel back and forth every day.

Kate didn't want to admit to the public she had cancer. In the initial statement they denied it was cancer. They had to admit it yesterday because unfortunately people got access to her records and it was being shopped around to media publications so she had no choice. According to "sources close to Kate" who spoke to US and People (they're not tabloids and usually have legit sources) she didn't want to tell even people close to her and decided to keep it private. She had no plans to tell the public that they knew about. Unfortunately Kate was being unrealistic. One of the most famous women in the world can't hide for several months without generating conspiracy theories. Kate has photoshopped pictures before. I don't know why so many people think it was Palace officials who forced her to photoshop the mother's day picture. It doesn't take much physical exertion to use photoshop. I believe she did and she apologized for it. She couldn't blame other employees when they didn't have anything to do with it. Nobody "forced her to take the blame" for the picture.

The point is her PR people can't divulge confidential medical information. The only way to handle this was to be honest from the beginning back in January. "The Princess of Wales had surgery and is undergoing treatment for cancer. Please respect her privacy." That's it. (Assuming the insider's belief that she knew it was cancer back in January is true but she seemed to be wearing a wig in the photo in the car so don't believe she is only now beginning treatment)

It's a horrible sad situation. But Kate is known to be stubborn and probably isn't the passive easily intimidated person people are portraying her to be. There is no way her PR team could have done anything differently when she wanted the public to believe it was simply "recovery from abdominal surgery" and nothing else.

Thank you! So glad other people are saying this!!! Can’t believe how many people have missed the point that she is literally one of the most powerful visible women in the world and you can’t just disappear without generating a frenzy. I agree if they’d been very simple and honest from day 1 they would have avoided this whole fiasco. They could have revealed even less as you note - not even mentioned “abdominal”!!

The problem started with the first statement that said her surgery was planned. The public already knew they had scheduled overseas travel/work during that time. Meaning this wasn’t planned in the typical sense and they were wordsmithing things. This set off people’s spidy senses. It was also proof that KP and Buckingham Palace aren’t coordinating between press offices. To have both health statements come out the same day was terrible practice. They should’ve coordinated both messaging, tone and timing.

Then it came out that someone was rushed to the hospital over the holidays.

Also, Will has been tied to Rose for years and there have long been rumors of his poor attitude as well as the family’s poor treatment of the women who have married into it. There were stories years ago that they used to throw pillows at each other during fights. It was natural rumors would start about her leaving him. For the past year they’ve been showing up to events separately- as if they live apart. The rumors have long been there. All the Harry and Meghan stuff confirmed some of the long-thought beliefs about Will’s handling of things.

When the AI photo came out, it was odd. But throwing Kate under the bus was wild. You know who approved that? Will. That made the public even more suspicious something was off about what was being shared.

Overall I would’ve handled this so differently. The balance of privacy and transparency is possible. I would’ve shared that Kate was taken to hospital over the holidays and underwent surgery, will be in recovery for timeline. Share flashback photos on holidays. Coordinate with Buckingham Palace on message timing. If she had been up to it, have her do Zoom calls with her charities and have the charity go on record about their interactions with Kate.

I think you're missing a step: the media went bonkers because social media lost its collective mind and MSM felt it had to respond to that hoopla, which was a palpable thing. I'm very much a student of PR, but I worked in journalism and I understand the impulse to have a line - any line at all! - on this thing people are apparently talking about. As somebody trying to learn the ropes, I'm very keen to know what a PR practitioner should do if the client says, "I pay your wages, and what's going on in my life is my business - I won't be adding to my previous statement until I'm ready."

#my gif #reddit #critique #pr games #strategery #PR fail #fail! #MESS! #kensington palace #palace officials #William The Prince of OWN GOALS #kate middleton #Catherine The Princess of Wales

[bengiyo]

Hidden Agenda Ep 11 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Zo went home to take care of some paperwork, and that allowed us insight into the difficult relationship he has with his mom. She's been extremely hard on him since the Puen situation, and it's created a perfectionist streak in Zo that is all too familiar for me as the son of two educators. Joke came to see Zo at his home, but Zo wasn't ready to come out. Still, the two of them are back to rolling around on the couch together. Meanwhile, Jeng has quit his football club, and Pok is worried.

Oh, starting with a dream of winning? I just know Zo isn't gonna win.

Curious why Joke seems to be only close to his grandmother.

I do like the boxes they tap for the debate.

These new juice cans Oishii is pushing are just too much.

I like that their team won, but Nita won the best speaker award. She's not tied to a romance, and it lets us get two levels of drama. So succeeded as president by leading his team to victory with a sound strategy, but he failed to meet the standard for himself.

Hello, Arm! Glad to see you acting and not just presenting.

They got Zo doing a surprise for Nita when he's so disappointed right now.

I feel for Zo. It's difficult to work as hard as you can and it still not feel like enough. But, Zo, baby, you are kenough.

I like the continuity of showing the rain and having the boys' shoulders be wet when they reach the hospital bed.

I like Zo's mom. This is the kind of complicated relationship I have with my family. They would absolutely hide information from me in the middle of a major event so that I could focus and then tell me after.

Joke is a good partner, and Zo's mom is perceptive. I think they would be great in laws someday. My dad's mom loved my mom. They were really close.

Joong and Dunk are huge. They are towering over the actress playing Zo's mom.

I'm not sure what the deal is with Joke's family this episode.

Okay, I liked Joke holding firm on the small argument about Zo's mom. Whatever Zo may be feeling, his mom was trying to encourage him.

I don't like Joke's shirt. It's been bothering me since he changed out of his uniform.

They all just left all this food out in the table? They didn't wrap it or anything? Thailand is humid and hot. I just know there are bugs everywhere.

It's interesting how Zo and Joke feel kinda distant with their families, and are receiving these awkward offerings from them.

Joke's shirt looks like the movie era TOS Star Trek uniforms.

Very impressive that they made Dunk's big ass look small on this bed without Joke.

Sepsis is very scary. Zo's mom is usually so tough that it's really sticking out how worried and shaken she is.

Okay, Joke silencing Zo to tell him he's not leaving this time was kinda hot.

Wow, this final preview doesn't look that dramatic.

This has been such a strange show. I wish I had watched it more like Horiimiya and not as some sort of mystery implied by the hidden agenda stuff. This has been a rather light experience about two people getting closer and their friends.

#hidden agenda #hidden agenda the series #hidden agenda meta #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

[kanene-yaaay]

Chasing Laughter

Kanene's Notes: Heyaa! Gosh, it's been a long time since I've been able to write and finish AND post a fic. But! I've got a new fandom >:D uytredrtyuidfg So, at first I didn't know a lot about Fit but GOSH, now he is one of my faves. Like, a guy that is trapped in a experiment controlled by a gigantic force that is not above torturing, experimenting and doing awful thing just to keep the control and yet this is the happier he had ever been? Because he has a wonderful son and friends? Because here, different from the world filled with war he came before, he at least knows a bit of peace? And he would do anything to still have this love, happiness and family he found? B r u h I am on the FLOOR Although, I still haven't watched a LOT of him so probably this is kind of OOC but yeah it is what it is dfghujuygtfrftgy

Warnings: None. This is pure flluff and plyaful tickles. Ticklish!Ramón and Ler!Fit. Around 1.000 words. General warning: this is a tickle fic

[~*~]

Ramón took off running.

It felt almost natural, now. He learned to run for his life a long time ago, nowadays being able to deal much better with all the thoughts his mind had to attend to. Where he should step, when he should keep going or try to hide, how far was his pursuer, what could he do to get just a few more seconds before help came… 

At first, it wasn’t supposed to be a game, running away from someone more than often isn’t in his daily life. Not with the place that they lived. The island.

But, well… 

The wind ruffled his hair and the adrenaline raced in his veins, heartbeat going in sync with his footsteps, painting in firm strokes and nimble steps determination in every turn and dodge. The voice that followed him on his path only served as a reminder that it was just a fun chase.

It was hard to not have fun when his father was involved. 

“Ramooon, where are you? You can’t run forever, my baby boy.”

All of this was Dapper’s fault, really. He was a menace and immature and the one who didn’t know when to admit that he had lost the wrestling match and so decided to change to cheating so he could win. And no. It didn’t matter that technically Ramón had also cheated by sneaking up behind his twin and starting the play fight when the other was busy building. That is not cheating. This is being tactical and having a strategy . Cheating is resorting to unfair methods like throwing all your weapons and tools to the ground, shoving your hands under the enemy’s chestplate and squeezing their sides non stop.

Tickling isn’t even allowed in a real fight! Dapper doesn’t even expect the big storm that is coming to him, Ramón also has a lot of a very kind of giggly, tickly blackmail about his brother that he is more than happy to share with his uncle Bad.

He just needed to survive this chase first.

With the potato gun in his hand he turned around, firing. None of them hit the target, it was hard when both of them were moving so fast and inconsistently, full of zig zags, circles and jumps on the usual irregular soil.

“Ops, almost got me there, Ramon, but you can’t escape your father.”

Ramón almost laughed, almost cursed and almost tried to shoot another round of potatoes on his dad for being so embarrassing.

“You know I will always find you. Come here, my boy!”

In the end, he ended up stumbling.

His body didn’t even had the chance to fall on the grass before two hands, warm and kind. larger than life, full of scars that contained brave stories and strong enough to hold him dangling in the air in what his Tío Foolish liked to call the “Air Prison”, got him from behind.

“Oh! Oh!! I got you, I got youuuu, my beautiful, beautiful baby boy! Look what I have right in my hands, a cute little sneaker who thought that he could outrun his old man, huh? You love to see it.”

Ramón struggled on the hold, kicking and feeling his cheeks light up in flames at his father’s usual baby voice, trying to ignore with his entire might all the giggles crawling up his throat and the gigantic smile that fought to take over his mouth. 

He was NOT going to lose this time! No matter how much embarrassing praises and unfair baby voices his own father attempted to pull against him, he would keep himself strong and simply not break!

(He always did. No matter how long they’ve played this game of hide and seek and chase, or how often his father’s eyes glinted in pure happiness when he saw him awake or even how the pride took over his words and gestures every time Ramón showed him his newer project. Everyday Ramon tried to keep his composure, his mature self in front of him as a shield and a preparation. Yet,  every single day his dad came and let him act and feel like he was… like he could be just a child in front of him.)

All his thoughts came to a halt and got scrambled when suddenly he was thrown upwards and spun in the air, no time to get the grappling hook to escape the situation before Fit caught him again, now with both of them being able to face each other. 

His father’s grin was as mischievous as big. Ramón huffed and squinted at him and did not pout at his destiny. 

A couple of fingers sneaking under his armpits and digging there quickly made his grumpy demeanor melt in a loud squeak.

"Ohoho, what is this? Is that a smile that I am seeing right there? A big, bright and starry five stars smile, indeed."

Ramón shook his head, entire body shaking with the struggle of keeping the laughter inside. His hands attempted to push his father's hold away, but it would be much easier to try to move a mountain. 

The fingers began crawling downwards, giving each rib a few quick, nimble scribble before focusing entirely on squeezing his sides, not being even slightly discouraged by the smaller’s tactic of trying to become a defensive ball, a couple of quiet yelps escaping when the scratching found a sweet spot right where his sides and ribs connected.

"I think someone's barrier is about to crack.~" Fit playful taunted.

A couple of giggles ran away without permission from his mouth, his smile growing from one ear to another as each tickle seemed to send a tingly, funny kind of adrenaline in his veins.

It took only single scribble on his stomach for everything, every squeal, giggly snort, squeaky wheeze and crackling to come trembling down from his mouth, filling the air with a loud, energetic laughter and a quiet, amused chuckle that danced together amidst the wind and the trees.

For a few moments that was all that existed, the silly, playful, tickly moment and genuine laughter. It lasted a couple of minutes before Fit decided they both already had their fun and that Ramón could use some of benefits of taking big, uninterrupted gulps of air.

"Okay, okay, enough. I don't want to take it too far." His father's movements weren't exactly gentle , still roughed in the edges by the life he had before the island, but he was the most careful as he let him on the ground and discreet enough to not snicker too loud when Ramón wobbled a bit on the same spot, left over sniggers still escaping and making his nose scrunch up. "Are you alright, Ramón?"

The kid just quietly wiped the beginnings of tears that formed in the corner of his eyes before, in a flash, grabbing his sword and quickly hitting his dad with a clear swing before jumping away.

"Wh- wha- what! Hey!" His voice was the perfect mix of amused and exasperated. Not a single drop of regret in it as the flames danced on his armor, barely even affecting him. "Now, come on…"

He stepped closer to the smaller one, only for Ramón to jump away once more and pull his spyglass, squinting at him in a clear show of protest.

(Of course both realized how the corner of his mouth was still up in a remain of a happy smile, how the swing was totally non harmful and how he would never, ever, truly run away from his father.)

"OK, OK, you're right, that was unfair of me." Ramón slightly bent his knees, hand still close to his sword, waiting for more. "What if we go clear that dungeon you mentioned earlier? Think you could forgive me then?"

The kid quickly put away his spyglass, stepping closer and nodding pleased. His father was smart. He knew he would stop being silly and see the reason, eventually.

Fit watched as his kid led the way, a pep on his step and a joyful hum in the tip of his tongue. His chest filled with warmth, realizing (not for the first or last time) how lucky he was to have all of this in his life.

He will do anything to keep this happiness, to keep them, alive.

[~*~]

Ramón may or may not strategically try to get his revenge in the future in front of a very curious and mischievous Brazilian (Pac really needed a Second to Breath when he heard Fit giggling for the first time, and, really, how could he just NOT help his sobrinho, ya know?) and ever since their life (and bit by bit the life of everyone in the island because rumors fly like crazy and not a single one in there isn't prone to some mischief) got filled with much more laughter and sillyness Just wanted to write some light-hearted fun

#qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Ticklish!Ramón #Ler!Fit #Tickle fic #Cute fluff #I forgot what to put in tags so SDFGHUJIKKJH #playful tickles #can't stop thinking about the beans Having Fun and Being Happy so i just had to write something rkjhgvfghnjm

[louisupdates]

BMG, FOLLOWING ‘MORE EFFICIENT AND MORE EFFECTIVE’ STRATEGY UNDER NEW CEO THOMAS COESFELD, REORGANIZES STRUCTURE; AROUND 40 STAFF CUT

OCTOBER 28, 2023 | BY TIM INGHAM

Thomas Coesfeld, CEO of BMG since July, has made another major move at the Bertelsmann-owned company.

MBW revealed in September that, under Coesfeld, BMG was taking the digital distribution of its music in-house – bringing its longstanding distribution deal with Warner Music Group/ADA to an end. (BMG has since confirmed that, while keeping digital distribution in-house, it’s inked a deal with Universal Music Group to handle its physical distribution business.)

Now, Coesfeld is enacting another set of significant changes at BMG, which posted an operating EBITDA of €90 million ($97m), up 22.6% YoY, in the first six months of 2023.

Berlin-based Coesfeld this week confirmed to staff that BMG is reorganizing its global structure in pursuit of his strategic goal for the company to become “more efficient and more effective”.

The biggest change under that plan will see BMG discontinue its centralized international marketing department for recordings, which to date has been led by the company’s EVP Global Repertoire, Fred Casimir.

In an internal note, issued to staff on Thursday (October 26) and obtained by MBW, Coesfeld said: “The international marketing team was set up five years ago in response to the needs of the company at the time.

“Our talented team have done a great job, driving international campaigns for artists including Lenny Kravitz, Kylie Minogue, and Louis Tomlinson, but unfortunately on a business level, expectations from this novel structure were not met and it created duplication of functions with local teams.

“The clear business decision is to instead give artists a single contact point with their local repertoire teams.”

In addition, Coesfeld has green-lit four other significant alterations to BMG’s structure: (i) The discontinuation of BMG’s Modern Recordings label based in Berlin; (ii) The closure of the firm’s New York-based theatrical productions initiative; (iii) No more active commissioning of new films to take place at BMG; and (iv) The consolidation of BMG’s New York and Canada-based recorded music operations into its Los Angeles office.

In total, MBW has confirmed, these changes – including the international marketing function closure – will affect 3% of BMG’s global staff, equating to around 40 employees. Fred Casimir will be leaving the company later this year as part of the move.

“These are tough but necessary decisions,” said Coesfeld in the Thursday internal note to BMG staff. “I would like to extend my thanks to the team members involved on behalf of everyone at BMG. They have done us proud. They were given the news only today, and I understand it has been a shock. We are in close contact with them and in Germany with our Workers Council to ensure everything is handled in a respectful way.”

Elsewhere in the internal memo, BMG confirmed that it is “on target” to begin distributing its own recorded music to streaming services such as Spotify from Wednesday next week (November 1).

In addition to becoming a “more efficient and more effective” business, Coesfeld’s comments in the memo outlined three other core strategies that form part of his “four-point plan” for the company this year.

The other points in this plan include “better engaging with our clients and partners”, “renewing BMG’s culture”, and “investing money wisely”.

Referencing the latter point, the internal BMG memo said that the company recently introduced “a new deal-modelling tool and new deal-approval routines to create more rigor in the system”.

As a result of the closure of BMG’s international marketing function, the company’s artists will no longer have two marketing contact points (domestic and international).

Their sole contact point for marketing going forward will be the repertoire team to which they are signed.

“Much like our distribution alliance with Warner Music/ADA struck in 2016, our previous international set-up – established around the same time – was the right decision back then,” said Coesfeld in Thursday’s memo.

“It allowed us to grow and was the ideal structure for the time. Our recordings business is now three times the size it was then and it’s overwhelmingly streaming-based. It is no surprise that the way we manage our business also has to change.

“While the logic of this move is clear, however, we should not underestimate the impact on our colleagues. Our best wishes are with them and BMG will do what we can as a company to help them at this time.”

When contacted by MBW, a BMG spokesperson said today (October 28): “Just as we have insourced our digital distribution because we had outgrown the old set-up, so we are changing the way we do international to reflect the scale we have now achieved.

“A centralised international department made sense when our local repertoire teams were not as strong as we are now. We’ve addressed that and a centralised function is no longer needed. As the only global player outside the three majors, international continues to lie at the heart of what we do. We’ll just do it differently.

“It’s far better to make changes like these from a position of strength when you’re performing well, rather than leaving it too late”

“Obviously these are tough decisions to make, but there’s better ways to invest this money to improve our service to clients and you can expect further announcements on improvements to our service offering imminently.

“97% of the BMG team are unaffected by these changes.”

#bmg #louis tomlinson #louis press #28.10.2023

[beardedmrbean]

Jayden Camarena, in Northern California, is contemplating blowing off the 2024 presidential election. Evan McKenzie, in battleground Wisconsin, is looking for any other candidate than the current front-runners. In Philadelphia, Pru Carmichael isn’t even convinced this race matters.

These young voters live in different cities, work different jobs and have varying political beliefs. But among the things they have in common: They voted for Joe Biden in 2020 — and now say the president can’t count on their support in 2024.

“I genuinely could not live with myself if I voted for someone who’s made the decisions that Biden has,” said McKenzie, a 23-year-old working at Starbucks and as a union organizer in Madison, Wisconsin. “I didn’t even feel great about" voting for Biden in 2020, he said.

The feeling helps illustrate why Biden’s ratings and support among young voters have dipped noticeably in recent polling. In November, NBC News’ latest national poll showed Biden locked in close competition with former President Donald Trump at the moment for voters ages 18-34, a sharp drop from the margins Biden enjoyed over Trump in the 2020 election, according to exit polling.

“We’ve been seeing this in our data and focus groups actually since May,” said Ashley Aylward, a senior researcher at the Democratic polling firm HIT Strategies. “And to me, it’s because the 2024 campaign season for Democrats hasn’t started yet.”

Polling a year out from an election is a snapshot in time, and Biden and his party have time to bring young voters back into the fold. But Aylward and others said it will take work.

“This is the alarm bell that we needed to make sure that not only the Biden campaign, but every other Democratic operative out there and all the campaigns down the ballot — state and local — actually invest in young people, because we know how much they can change the outcome,” Aylward said.

NBC News spoke with voters who responded to the poll, as well as other voters 18-34 who supported Biden in 2020, but who now say he hasn’t earned their vote for next year, to get a clearer picture of why they are unhappy with Biden and what they want to see him do to earn their support back.

“It’s so complicated, because it almost feels like if I were to give my vote for Biden, I will be showing the Democratic Party that what they are putting out is enough, which is the bare minimum in my opinion,” said Camarena, a 24-year-old living outside the Bay Area.

Voters cited a number of policy areas that disappointed them, including insufficient moves to address climate change and Biden’s inability to fully cancel student loan debt or codify Roe v. Wade, as the president deals with a closely divided Congress. However, Biden’s response to the Israel-Hamas war may be having the greatest effect on his relationship with this voter bloc.

The NBC News national poll, conducted more than a month after the start of the Israel-Hamas war, shows 70% of voters under 35 disapproving of Biden’s handling of the war.

McKenzie cast his first presidential ballot three years ago for Biden, when the Democratic candidate carried Wisconsin narrowly, in part thanks to young voters like McKenzie. He said he urged his friends to vote for Biden then, telling them, “You’ve got to do this.”

He now says he won’t be having those conversations this election cycle. He’s angry at the president for his handling of the Israel-Hamas war, and the threat of losing the White House to the Republican Party has done little to win over his vote.

“I want to show the Democratic Party as a young person that you still need to earn our vote and if you don’t, the consequences will be your career,” McKenzie said. “A Republican getting elected isn’t the end. It is the beginning of a much larger fight.”

Big promises unfulfilled

In 2020, Biden carried young voters by more than 20 points against Trump, but some of that support appears to have been tepid — and tied to enormous campaign promises from Biden that he has not been able to deliver as president of a closely divided nation.

“I mean, he made a lot of really big promises in his campaign and virtually none of them were followed through on,” said Austin Kapp, a 25-year-old living in Castle Rock, Colorado. “I mean, he could have codified Roe v. Wade, he could have stood up for the rights of people all over the country, he could have done a lot of things, but he didn’t.” ________________

While Biden and Democrats pushed to codify the protections of Roe at the federal level, congressional realities made legislative efforts impossible. A vote to codify Roe in May 2022 failed in the Senate, with Biden lashing out at Republicans afterward and urging voters to “elect more pro-choice senators this November, and return a pro-choice majority to the House.” Democrats kept the Senate but lost the House in November 2022.

Biden also backed a rules change to the Senate filibuster, which would have allowed legislation to pass by simple majority instead of a higher, 60-vote threshold, but the change was blocked in a bipartisan vote.

Biden wasn’t Kapp’s first choice as a candidate in the last election, and this year he plans to vote third party if the contest is a Biden-Trump rematch. He graduated from school just last spring carrying both private and federal student loans.

When asked how he felt about his loan repayments beginning soon, Kapp groaned: “Oh, yeah, that was another thing.”

“It’s kind of sad to see that the quote unquote lesser of two evils that we were all promised, is this,” Kapp said of Biden.

Camarena agrees. Though she is vehemently against Trump, she says she only supported Biden in 2020 reluctantly.

“It was more of a well, [Biden]’s better than Trump, you know?” she said.

Camarena’s feelings toward Biden now are worse. She works for CalFire and is passionate about addressing climate change. She says she was “turned off” when the Biden administration approved the controversial Willow oil drilling project in Alaska.

“It made me really angry,” she said. “He painted himself as, you know, trying to advance or improve climate change.”

When she talks to other voters her age about Biden, she says, the sentiment is similar and discouraging. “It feels like the best option that we have isn’t good enough,” Camarena said with a sigh, adding, “It can feel really powerless.”

Worried voters cite higher prices

Sentiments like these among a constituency Democrats rely on to win elections mean campaigning in 2024 will be critical, maybe even more so than in previous elections, said Daniel Cox, director of the Survey Center on American Life at the American Enterprise Institute.

“I think on some level, you can say that the Biden-Harris team have not been as aggressively pitching their accomplishments to voters and maybe that they don’t feel like they’re in campaign mode yet,” he said. “You certainly see this with the economy, which the sort of macroeconomic indicators have been positive for quite a while and keep surprising analysts that things seem to be doing much better than folks thought they would.”

While the economy is performing stronger than when Biden first took office, Olivia Thompson, a 26-year-old mother in Elko, Nevada, says she doesn’t feel those improvements.

“Not even a little bit, and I’m living it firsthand,” Thompson said.

Her family of five lives paycheck to paycheck. She says Biden earned her vote last election based on promises for a more prosperous future.

“I was more excited about the fact that he was saying that he was gonna fix the economy and get everything back on track and then everything just skyrocketed,” she complained. “All of like our grocery bills and gas — it just never went back down.”

Thompson plans to vote for a third-party candidate in November.

Some of the economic anxiety voters have may be because they’re not hitting the same economic milestones that their parents did, said Aylward, the Democratic opinion researcher.

“I think it would do Biden wonders if he came out with a really, really clear plan for that to help these young people’s anxiety,” she said. Millennials and Generation Z voters "are seeing just how far out of reach buying a home is or saving money and, of course, student loans are really the first barrier and piece to that.”

Several voters said they supported Biden on the expectation he would tackle the student debt crisis. The administration successfully erased $127 billion in student debt — more than any president in history, but after the Supreme Court ruled against his original plans to cancel up to $400 billion in student debt, that failure became the lasting headline.

“Whether you like it or not, Biden has done a number of things, but young people are just far less likely to give him credit, good or bad, on anything that he’s done,” Cox said.

McKenzie, who graduated in the spring, said he remains unimpressed by the accomplishments of the administration.

“I’m glad it’s the most ever" canceled student debt, he said. "It’s still not even close to what was promised,” he added. “And I think that that’s sort of what I’m going into this campaign feeling, like broken promises all around.”

Combating that sentiment will be crucial to winning back support.

Cox said he thinks the Biden campaign "is in deep trouble at this stage.” He said, “There’s still plenty of time, but the trajectory is not good for him.”

Camarena is one voter leaving the door open for her mind to be changed.

“I think that there is a chance” of Biden winning back her support, she said, adding that she expects the president to call for a cease-fire in the Israel-Hamas war.

“If he would do that, that would make me reconsider. Though, she said, she would "still be a bit skeptical.”

Another voter said it’s already too late.

Carmichael, of Philadelphia, hoped the Biden administration would remind her of the Obama days. She says she is disappointed by both Biden and Trump and wants to spend her time focusing on local community care and voting in local elections.

“I don’t think the presidency has too much of an effect on what happens in my day-to-day life,” she said.

Carmichael won’t be supporting Biden in November. If the choices next fall are Biden and Trump, she says, she will likely leave those boxes empty.

“I gave him one shot and it was not worth it,” she said.

#nunyas news #A lot of the complaints #in this article #are things the man has no control over #but I'm glad to see #voters saying this kind of thing #even if I don't think most have the spine #to not still vote for the same guy

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

Could you possibly (if it's not at all triggering or uncomfortable for you) do something for Sevika x reader with an ED? One more so on the an0rexia/restrictive ED end of the spectrum?

If not I totally understand, I just haven't really seen anything like this for her and I would personally find it very comforting and I just love how you write her 💜💜 keep doing what you're doing even if you don't take this request!!

Hello! Thank you so much for the request and sorry for the wait. I've definitely imagined having Sevika help me when I'm struggling with eating. I hope this is to your liking, if there's anything you want me to elaborate on or add please let me know <3

Warnings: ED, Negative body image/self talk, restricting, recovery, there's also a NSFW section (cause it's sevika) that's marked so minors avoid that

I think as much as Sevika would want to help, she’s very headstrong and can come off aggressive in her approach. She may have a hard time understanding your disorder, your triggers, etc. but when she realizes it’s a serious thing that affects you, she’d strive to understand. You'd catch her reading a book about the topic she somehow acquired before bed, reading glasses perched on her nose because she's an old lady.

She’d be very authoritative, which may or may not be a good thing depending on your personality. She wouldn’t push you too hard, but you’re definitely not skipping any meals and she will sit with you all night until you finish the portion you both agreed upon beforehand. She'd be very adamant about making deals/goals with you. This woman is a tough negotiator and is not used to being told 'no.'

If there’s anything she can do to make it easier on you, she will. You like puzzles? Then that’s what you’re both doing while eating your dinner. Board games? Each one has a designated night of the week. If you’re feeling frisky, you can attempt a card game with her. She likes the concentrated pout on your face as you wrack your brain for a winning strategy.

Regardless of what you do, her goal is to take your attention off of clocking how much you eat and to make it less stressful for you through distraction. If you're focusing too hard, then her foot is gonna brush against yours under the table until your game of footsie turns competitive and you're damn near kicking each other.

Because the increased amounts are new for you, you may feel full faster and struggle with eating more, or you may get a belly ache after. Sevika’s coaxing you through it, firm but gentle commands and praises, rubbing your belly after dinner. Her hands are warm and big and do wonders for the cramps.

Sevika will drop by your work with breakfast, lunch, dinner, whatever time of the day it is. If you don’t work, then she expects you to stop by the Last Drop daily and eat with her. She’ll say it’s to spend time with you, and it is, but it also gives her peace of mind to know you’re taking care of yourself.

If you have a hard time eating in front of others, no worries. She’ll get you a private booth if you’re out in public. If you still feel shy eating with her, she’ll avoid staring at you and instead look at her plate, the wall, her arm and talk about whatever she needs to talk about.

If you can’t get yourself to eat a snack, she wouldn’t force you or guilt you into it. She has a plethora of other options to offer you and she'd tell you that one bad day isn't failure, it's just a rest. She'd be incredibly understanding about how taxing it can be for you.

Sevika would refrain from commenting on your appearance when you do start gaining weight. She doesn’t want you to misinterpret her words (healthier, better) and affect your progress. Her joy and relief of seeing your results would be shown in the form of showering you with kisses and keeping you in bed all day.

She will shut down your apologies and concerns of annoying her. She’ll tell you that she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere, and to wipe that smile off your face.

Lovey-dovey Sevika is rare, but she will express her pride in her own way. Any kind of reassuring praise isn't spoken to your face but into your skin as she kisses it.

“You’re doin’ good.”

“Proud of you, babe.”

“I know it’s not easy, thanks for letting me help.”

Since you’re being vulnerable with her, she would be vulnerable with you too. She’d teach you how to tinker with her arm and how to take care of it. If she has a night time routine of taking off her arm and massaging lotion into her scarred shoulder, that will be your responsibility.

If she catches you criticizing yourself in the mirror, she’s going to ask you to point out and explain every flaw you think you see. Then she’s going to show you how wrong you are about each one.

“Hey, hot stuff.” A pair of mismatched arms wrap around your waist, blocking your view of the cellulite and myriad of stretch marks on your stomach. You attempt a smile at her effort to make you feel wanted. “Hey.” Her eyes see right through your feigned nonchalance. “What are you looking at?” “Me.” The word comes out a bit more bitter than you intended. A hum reverberates through your back, hands shifting to splay across your hips.  “And what do you see?” Your eyes meet in the mirror and you examine her face for any sign of sarcasm. A dark eyebrow quirks at the lack of response, fingers drumming against your navel in a silent, ‘I can wait.’ It would do you good to just get this over with, you surmise, and sag into her hold. “Okay, where do I begin,” Your self-deprecating tone doesn’t sit well with her, if her scowl is anything to go by. A colorless mark is traced by your finger until she wraps your hand around hers. “Show me. I want to know exactly what you’re talking about.” Heat rises to your cheeks under her intense gaze and your eyes fail to remain on hers. With her hand in yours, you trace her finger over a few of your stretch marks. “These.” “And what are those?” Ugly.  “Stretch marks.” Like she’d let you off that easy. “And what do you think about them?” Silence fills the room for several beats, and then, “I don’t like them,” You start delving into your darkest thoughts, voicing what you find disgusting about yourself, what you could change, guiding her hand to every insecurity and unloading the festering guilt onto her as she caresses each one. When you finish, you’re crying. Suddenly you’re facing her and she’s wiping away your tears, ever so silent as she patiently waits for you to stop. Once the tears seize, she’s kissing your nose. “Okay. Want to know what I see?” “Not really.” You choke out a tearful laugh. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a sad little smile. “I think you’re gonna want to hear this.” Soon she has you in her lap, unable to tear your gaze from the mirror as she justifies every little imperfection. “These,” Feather light touches ghosted over the multitude of marks, pouring nothing but love into each caress. “Show how far you’ve come. Your strength and your progress. They remind me of how proud I am of you, and how we got through this together.” Sevika punctuates her statement with a kiss to your shoulder before giving you a sidelong glance, as if she needed to ensure you were truly recognizing the weight of her words. “You’re so sexy your skin struggles to contain it, your overwhelming beauty.” A snort cuts through her sappy words and you slap her shoulder. One of her rare, beautiful big smiles adorns her face as she noses against your cheek, holding you as you shake with laughter. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

NSFW

This would lead to her taking her fill of you. I’m not sure if worshiping would be the right word to use if a great deal of it is beneficial to her, too. She’d make you compliment yourself as she does it. If the praises stop, she stops.

"Um-I, I'm doing well with my meal plans, uh, oh," "Focus." A seemingly impossible task if she keeps swirling her tongue like that. "You-you're so proud of me. I'm-I'm strong for- gods." "For?" "For getting this far. Sevika." You feel the curl of her lips against you. "Keep 'em coming."

Whenever you finish a goal or even just a meal, she may reward you by getting you off. If you have stomach aches, orgasms can relieve cramps so that's what she's going to distract you with.

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #sevika imagine

[sassyfrassboss]

Its sick that they're using their children for emotional blackmail. Archie never went to balmoral for Christmas or Sandringham for summer break when the queen was alive. Why are you suddenly wanting a relationship months before the coronation??

I have a very firm belief that they won't be getting a balcony photo. Charles is absolutely going to respect their wishes of their children being "private citizens" who currently don't live in the UK. Harry and meghan want approval by BP of their children, official photographs released, rolls to play in this history-making event. its just another temper tantrum, but throughout all of this both times charles has directly spoken to the public he has acknowledged (with no titles) and their life overseas. I don't think that will change on the biggest day of his life. He wrote his Christmas day speech having already known about the docuseries. Two weeks later after the book, he notified them to move out of frogmore. He's drawing a very clear line in the sand relating to the monarchy, they don't get to take advantage of it. I may not like the fact that the children have titles of a country they have no connection too, but the only thing it does is make them look really bad and desperate. And give something to charles to take away that they very obviously care deeply about.

Saying that the titles are their children’s birthright is just absurd at this point.

I’ll never for get when I was watching the Netflix series and Meghan mentioned her children’s “role” in the family. So she truly thinks her children will one day have a role in the BRF.

Remember the rumors going around that 2023 was going to be their reconciliation year? This tells me that Harry and Meghan didn’t expect TQ to die. It also tells me that they fully expected TQ to issue an apology to them after the Netflix series and the book.

The one thing that is stopping Harry and Meghan from them basking in the BRF fame is that H&M still expect an apology. For what? Who knows. But they will keep making disparaging remarks and paying for negative BRF PR because they want that apology so they can look like they are the victims and the bigger people by returning to the fold. However, the BRF have made it clear that an apology will never happen. Therefore, H&M’s strategy has backfired.

Here is what I think they expected to happen:

1. The Netflix doc and the book raising their popularity ratings to the stratosphere.

2. The Netflix doc and the book getting the world on their side.

3. Using this as leverage to garner an apology from the BRF and to demand the 1/2 in and out deal along with patronages and military titles back.

4. Once #3 happened they would graciously and benevolently accept and start their new journey as the “stars” of the BRF where they and only they attend red carpet events, state dinners, and 5 star tours.

5. #4 would show Hollywood that they are now ever more royal than the royals so they would receive the hero’s welcome back to Cali they expected in 2020.