#personally i had the highest highs ever with the lowest lows this year but i think i came out better in the end :') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingstoraes · 1 year

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someday 🌅

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine/drabble (angst)

notes: was in the mood for some angst so... lmk what u guys think!

warnings: none that i know! plain angst, unrequited feelings, mutual pining (??) and all that

about: charles has loved you since he was 18.

Charles has done many stupid things in his life. Emphasis on the many — he's lost count, and doesn't even bother to recall which foolish decisions had made its way to his list.

But if he had to name one, if he had a gun to his head and his life depended on it, he has one extremely stupid decision he regrets every single day: not telling you how he felt from day one.

You would think that the Charles Leclerc had the greatest moves of all time, swaying people with his words and charming personality, wrapping people around his finger effortlessly. But when it came to you, he stops in his tracks and forgets the entire English, French, and Italian vocabulary. It was the exact opposite: he was absolutely smitten for you, you've got him completely wrapped around your finger to the point that he'd cancel his plans when you call.

But you were his friend. His greatest friend. More than great, because you've been with each other since you were children, and he'd be damned if he risks losing you by telling you how he really felt. It's stupid, he knows. It's been what, 7 years? He has the courage to drive around a racetrack in a car that goes 300 kilometers per hour yet telling you the three aching words he's been keeping to himself for so long seems to be harder than driving a car with no steering wheel. It's the typical book trope of slowburn and pining, except he thinks he's all alone in this battle.

The moment he met you, he knew he wanted you in his life for a long time. You were his first friend, you even came before Pierre, before any teammate he has ever had. You've witnessed his highest highs and lowest lows, the days he cried over losing a karting competition and even the day he knew he had a spot in the Formula 1 grid. You knew each other better than you know yourselves. Sometimes, no words need to be spoken for you to know what the other needed.

The first day he realized he liked you was a day of intense denial. You had just started dating someone from your high school and it was fair to say he didn't like the guy very much. He'd tell you he thinks the guy was bad news and you should stay away, jokingly might he add. He would get unfamiliar and displeasing twists and turns in his stomach when you mentioned someone else's name. Sooner or later his brother Lorenzo would notice the dagger of a look he sent your "premature" boyfriend, and would make Charles realize that he was just jealous. He didn't want to believe it — you were his best friend, and he can't like his best friend. He tells himself it's just an unwritten rule.

He was in F2 when he realized he loved you. More than a best friend, not just platonic. He had lost a race that was crucial to his chase for the F2 championship and the unrelenting expectations were piling on his shoulders. He runs away, far from the track, ensuring no one else finds him. His family was looking for him, team principal and engineers ringing his phone without halting. But you, you refuse to let Charles wander around alone. Sooner or later you find him, and you don't say anything just yet. You sit down beside him, letting his head rest on your shoulder as he silently let the tears fall down from his eyes. He was craving comfort that day. He wanted someone to just listen, to make him feel that he was still human, capable of mistakes and it's okay — and you did just that. You did more than that.

Ultimately, he decides to never tell you how he felt. He hopes it'll pass, because he was sure you didn't feel the same. But it didn't, it just grew more each day he spent with you.

There was a day he realized his love for you pained him. You knock on his door, tears laced with mascara ink running down your cheeks. In your hands was a torn-up present you were supposed to give your boyfriend. At the time, Charles has made his peace letting you go, to someone you loved, if it meant seeing you happy. He sends you smiles when you run into him and you're with someone else, he helps you pick your outfit for dates, what gift to buy for your boyfriend because you needed a guy's opinion. He tells himself he's okay with it, as long as you're happy, as long as you're in love — even if it's not with him, as long as he gets to keep you in his life. But all that comes crashing down when you face him at his door completely heartbroken. It shatters him to see you this hurt, and he realizes it pains him, greatly, to let you go and be with someone else. He's furious at him for ever hurting you, furious at himself for letting it happen, when he's right here and he could treat you so right and so well.

Charles has loved you for as long as he can remember. He's loved you since he was 18, back when he hasn't grasped the entire concept of love yet. But he knew what it was, and it was you.

He still loved you when he was 20, when he saw you laugh from across the table during family dinner. He's captivated by your smile, eyes almost disappearing as you laugh at Arthur's not-so-funny joke.

He's loved you when he turned 21, the day you flew out to surprise him on his birthday, cake in hand with a cheesy smile on your face, after having stuck only 20 candles on it because you dropped the other one.

Even when he was 23, he loved you still. He finds you at your hotel room in Abu Dhabi, desperately trying to stay awake because you made dinner plans. You greeted him with a smile, even though he was kept late by a team meeting.

He's loved you in every scenario, in every which way. Even now, especially now.

He'd be lying if there weren't times he thought you'd finally reciprocated. The longing stares, touches that radiated comfort yet felt like sparks, he felt it all. Just when he thinks he can come out and say it, he remembers you're just a really good friend. Charles was just merely too afraid to give in to his assumption and face you. Even if he's contemplated about it a hundred times, he chooses to stash his feelings for you in a box and stow it away it in a little compartment in his head. He thinks it's better to just be your best friend, because losing you is something he can never handle. He thinks someday this will pass, but it never has. He doesn't think it ever will.

Charles looks at you — he gets reminders of why he's immensely in love with you. To him, you were his person. His soulmate, his peace in human form. You were his favorite place to go to when he searches for comfort or peace, or even when he's mad, frustrated or sad; being with you just makes it all better. He gets to be his truest self with you, a version of himself separate from the car and behind the whole world who watches him like a hawk, and you love him for it still. His heart swells every single time he sees you in the crowd, looking up at him proudly as he celebrates with champagne and a trophy on the podium. But he loves it even more when you stay with him at his worst races, when his car suddenly stops or he delivers a terrible lap time. You stay amidst the chaos. In the middle of all of it — there you were, with no plans of ever leaving him.

He looks at you — and it shatters him that he cannot love you the way he wants to. So he reminds himself, what's love without a little pain, right? He's willing to go through it, as long as he doesn't lose you. Just as long as he does not lose one of the biggest reasons why he chooses to keep going every single day.

It's not like he hasn't tried to move forward himself. There were desperate tries to get over you. He's opened himself to dating other women, but every time his relationship with someone else progresses, he feels like he's committing infidelity. He had went on dates and dated some, but it never worked. He feels tethered, like there was something pulling him back, and it was you. No matter how much he's tried to move forward, he will always choose to come back to you. Even if it aches him to do so. What a martyr, right?

If he had to take a shot every time a reporter has asked him why he's still single, he would be passed out on the sidewalk for three days. There were conspiracies, theories; complex ones at that. They wonder how can someone so deluriously handsome like Charles Leclerc be single? He's got it all, so how the hell does he not have a girlfriend? Charles Leclerc has definitely not got it all, he thinks. He's got the looks, the talent, all good things except for one — the woman he loves does not love him back. Charles often sends them a laugh, a light chuckle. Their theories were so complicated as to why he was single but the answer was simple. The answer was seated in the motorhome of Ferrari, red headphones on, silently cheering for him.

The thing is, Charles can be a good pretender. But not to the people dear to him. His brothers, Carlos, even Fred, all see the way his gaze lingers on you. They all see the small smile that forms in Charles' lips when you're around or how he laughs at the corniest jokes you tell. They were all thinking the same thing. Charles, was not a good liar. So they wonder, why couldn't you see it?

They wonder to themselves, because not only do they see Charles, they also see you. How your body tenses when Charles seem to get a little to close to a girl, how your eyes sparkle when you look up at Charles on a podium, how relaxed you seem to be when you're in Charles' embrace.

Were the two of you such good friends that the thought of being something more becomes negligible, just so you don't lose each other? Or were you just plain oblivious? Was Charles just wrong?

Charles blinks. He spaced out, yet again. He faces the interviewer, giving her a smile as he adjusts himself on his seat.

"Are we ready?" The interviewer sends a nod to the camera man.

"For the first question of the day, and I am pretty sure you are sick and tired but I will ask you anyway - why is Charles Leclerc still single?"

And there it is. The dreaded, over-asked question. Why was he single? Ah, because there's a small part in him that believes that maybe someday, the two of you could be something more. He hates to admit it, but a part of him hopes, and hopes a little bit more each day.

He lightly laughs, and he looks at you once again. You were a few meters beside the cameraman, watching him be interviewed.

"Ah well, I am proudly single, thank you for asking." He chuckles.

He smiles.

"Maybe when the timing is right. Someday."

He shifts his gaze to you again, smiling small, eyes sparkling. The look of love. Painted on his face was the exact portrayal of love in movies, in books, and in songs. He does not realize it, but maybe he loves you more than he thinks he does. As long as it was you, he does not mind waiting for the right time, even if there's a possibility it won't come.

You send him a smile back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You tell yourself to snap out of it, to stop looking at him like he hung the stars and invented love itself. He was just your best friend. He probably does not feel the same way. You can't feel this way. It's an unwritten rule.

But there's a reason why you've stopped dating other people for the past 3 years. There's a reason why you look at him ever so dearly and why you were out of reach and out of it when he dated other people. You just haven't realized it yet.

Maybe, Charles was right. All you needed was time.

Someday, you'll realize it. That's when the time aligns, that's when timing becomes just right.

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tagging: @slytherheign mwah ily! this is dedicated to her bc not only do i love her but she LIVES for angst so 🫣

notes: my first charles angst? i think? let me know what u guys think! this idea did not stop pestering me so i had to write it before i study, anyway, thanks for reading 🤍

#writtenbyrae #charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc drabble #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 angst #charles leclerc one shot

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iricressent · 5 months

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i think 2023 had the highest highs and lowest lows i've ever lived through for me personally. big "adult" year for me. still trying my hardest

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minniiaa · 1 month

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(long ass post just me rambling about a new lawlu fic idea. t/w for discussion of addiction and sui attempt. feel free to keep on scrolling.)

Writing a new modern au about Law becoming an addict after Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo died in an accident coming to pick him up. It's inevitably going to be a healing LuLaw story, Luffy finding him in his apartment by sheer luck after he decided to end his life on the one-year anniversary of their deaths. Luffy is in his hospital room when he wakes up, a cute stranger who he discovers is his neighbor and also a firefighter. Luffy declares that he's going to be his friend which makes no sense to Law, why would a guy like him with such a good life want to be friends with a pathetic junkie freak who just tried to off himself? What he doesn't know is that Luffy knows what it's like to lose the most important people to you, to feel so alone and not know how you're going to go on. Only Luffy did go on. He built a new family for himself, a home, and a life where he could be happy and he wants Law to do the same.

The first chapter was one of the darker, more emotional things I've written, detailing Law's relationship with death and how he is convinced everyone he ever cares for will die because they all have died. He falls into despair and tries to die once but can't go through with it. He turns to alcohol, finding that it numbed the voices in his head that screamed at him every waking moment. So the decline begins, Law becoming a street rat alcoholic who goes to grimy bars, going home with any guy whose willing to fuck him until it hurts, the pain overwhelming everything in his head. Alcohol turns to club drugs which turn to opiates and he's just a shell of a human at this point.

I think there's beauty in the rise from your lowest low to your highest high (not a drug high, just happiness). Law needs a reason to stay. Luffy becomes that reason, someone who understands him, who he almost hates in a way because he was able to pull himself out of the trenches when Law couldn't. Law decides to get clean once he wakes up in the hospital, deciding to give life one last try before he calls it quits for good. Luffy declares he's going to be there for him every step of the way and after some thought, Law lets him only because he knows can't be alone anymore. He'll use Luffy as a crutch he clearly needs until he's fulfilled his purpose, and then he'll just dispose of him.

He's shocked to find that Luffy is just a good person, unlike anyone he's ever encountered. Sure, he's pretty brutally honest, almost chastising Law for not even trying to move on but he's totally right, Law never did try, he just gave up. He has this way of somehow just knowing how Law is feeling even without him saying a word. He brings him gifts in few days he's in the hospital, cleans his apartment that had fallen into an absolute shit hole while Law was an addict, and when Law comes home he basically just moves in even though he only lives down the hall. He doesn't want Law to be alone, to fall back into his addiction. He introduces him to his friends and is active in his treatment even going to his first NA meeting with him so he doesn't have to go by himself.

He's exactly Law's type and he's maddeningly charming, openly affectionate and flirtatious right off the bat which just confuses Law. He convinces himself that it's just the kind of person Luffy is, some people are just like that but there's no way he's actually attracted to him... right? He's still down horrendous for him from the very start though, and Luffy doesn't make this any better, sending him shirtless pictures of him and little flirty messages like 'wish you were here ;)'. (Law's a degen and Luffy is totally aware of what he's doing but he just likes Law and wants him to know it).

Their strange friendship grows and evolves while Law deals with the harsh reality of what it means for him to be sober. One day Luffy kisses him, things get intense and Law is fucking TERRIFIED. He can't care about someone again, can't watch them die like everyone else and know it's all his fault. He pushes Luffy away but he won't go. He loves Law and he's going to do anything it takes to make sure Law accepts that fucking love. He does, of course. He's wanted this from the beginning but he was just too scared of what it would mean to love someone for the first time, to admit it aloud. Law overcomes his addiction, begins to process his losses, and Luffy becomes his Reason to Stay.

(If you don't care about my personal shit feel free to stop here and enjoy this random summary headcanon thing I unintentionally wrote. This is just this week's episode of me oversharing but maybe it'll help someone who has been in similar situations idk.) I decided to write this story for purely personal reasons. About 7 years ago the person I was dating was an addict and although I did everything I could to try and get them the help they desperately needed after I saved them from overdosing the first time, but it wasn't enough and they ended up dying a few months later. I was also doing various drugs at the time, though only recreationally, and was thankfully able to stop after seeing what it did to the people around me. However, this death fucked me up and I blamed myself to the point it drove me to become an alcoholic just to help cope with the pain. Things are much better now and it took many years but I've finally been able to process everything. Writing is therapeutic for me and I always wanted to write a story about addiction and loss but I wasn't sure how it would do it. I guess I found it now?

At the end of the day, I wasn't enough of a reason for that person to stay but what if there was a world where someone was? I wanted to explore that concept with my favorite ship and somehow this beast was created in my fucked up little head. I'm looking forward to the very fulfilling and heart-warming journey of Law healing and falling in love with our favorite loyal puppy dog Luffy :)

#before you say ANOTHER story? yes. another story. i have problems.#it's staying in the drafts for awhile though #needs time to marinate #was just frothing at the mouth to talk about it #lawlu #lulaw #lawlu fanfiction #yo to the like 2 people who read this #honestly this post is just for me to remember wtf my plans are with this story

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fionaapplerocks · 1 year

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I read I was dead on the Internet.

POP QUIZ -- Q & A With Fiona Apple Published 4:00 am PST, Sunday, Dec 7, 1997

Q: Was this a good year to be Fiona Apple?

A: This was the best year. For me, the best times are always going to be the most intense, the ones with the highest highs and the lowest lows. I was so pissed off that I was misunderstood on this whole worldwide level for a while that it discouraged me. Because I don't feel that way anymore, I can use those experiences and think they're wonderful. If I had the worst of times this year and I had the best times, that means I really kicked ass because I got past those worst times.

Q: Any reflections on your acceptance speech at the MTV Awards?

A: That was a big step for me, and it had nothing to do with the content of my speech, or lack thereof. It was the fact that I said what I wanted to say. If I can't show everybody out there that I'm willing to go up there and make an a-- out of myself and be inarticulate and be nervous and be angry, then I have no right speaking because I have nothing to offer that hasn't been seen before.

Q: Do you feel old now that you have turned 20?

A: I don't know how I would feel old or young. I don't understand how people can really answer questions like that. I have no basis of comparison. I've never been anyone else.

Q: Do you feel more mature?

A: I was just telling my sister yesterday that I feel like I'm 6 years old. Everything I do with my free time is absurdly kindergartenlike. All I do in hotel rooms is, I lay out the blanket on the floor and get a bunch of magazines and make collages. I had a day off yesterday and that's all I did.

Q: Are you worried your next album will lack the intimate quality of your debut?

A: A lot of times when you're surrounded by all these people it can be even lonelier than when you're by yourself. It can be a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anybody or talk to anybody, then you feel like you're really alone. I have a very steadfast tendency to parent myself, to monitor my development into the person I want to be. I've tried to keep the corruption minimal. I try not to pay too much attention to what goes on around me. It's like when you see those horses pulling carriages in Central Park and they've got those blinders on so they don't get spooked by the traffic outside. I feel like I'm in a place where I don't feel too comfortable, so I'm just going to keep my eyes on the road ahead of me and not look around and not get spooked or brought down by anything.

Q: What's the best rumor you've heard about yourself?

A: I read I was dead on the Internet.

Q: How did you die?

A: I don't know. I just heard about it yesterday.

Q: It must be your a𝑛or𝑒xia.

A: Yeah, that's great. I dare anybody to look at me and I say I'm a𝑛or𝑒xic. I'm so totally not.

Q: Does it bother you that people make out to your music?

A: Hell, no. I don't care what people do. Honestly, I don't care how people remember my first album. I did it for my own reasons. I don't have a big thing with leaving my mark or being historic. It made me feel good. It made some other people feel good.

Q: What do you listen to when you make out?

A: What's really good is African drum music.

Q: Did your boyfriend (magician David Blaine) really get your name tattooed on his shoulder?

A: Yes. He did it as a surprise. He had talked about it, but I kept telling him not to do it. I would feel stupid if somebody had to get me removed. It's not like he'll ever have to get it removed, though, because we'll always stay best friends.

Q: What did you do to show your devotion to him?

A: I have a tattoo and part of it says "kin" on it, because I call him my kin. He's my best friend. I'm a writer so, of course, I'm going to find something a little more poetic than just somebody's name.

Q: Are you going drinking when you turn 21?

A: Come on. I got drunk when I was 5. Everybody gets drunk before they're 21.

Q: Do you really believe that you will die young, as you said in a recent Spin article?

A: I was being sarcastic, but the writer just didn't get it. I wasn't misquoted or anything. I don't think anyone had it out for me or anything, but I was just misunderstood. I had been fighting all day about what I was going to wear and how I was going to look at the photo shoot. I just got p -- off and was in a weird mood. I was being deadpan and the man didn't get it. I got into therapy in the fifth grade because I said I was going to kill myself in a sarcastic way and they didn't get it then. Nothing's changed.

By Aidin Vaziri

#fiona apple #interviews #1997 #4:00 am

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andiwriteordie · 1 year

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prompts um . um ! may i suggest a little piece with one of the boys having bird/angel wings

wibble!!!! ok i was a little nervous for this one at first because i've never done any wing fics, but this was such a fun prompt! so thank you for indulging my two current loves: 1) fantasy-esque byler aus and 2) some good ole fashioned mike angst :)

—

take these broken wings

People always say that right before you die, your life will flash before your eyes—memories and images of the moments you lived, your worst failures and greatest successes, the highest highs and lowest lows, and every moment in between. Some people who have had brushes with death and lived to tell the tale claim that life flashes before your eyes in the same way that lightning strikes—there, one moment, and full of crackling energy which calls all of your attention, then gone the next.

Mike’s had a lot of close calls with near-death experiences. After all, it just comes with the territory of knowing about the Upside Down and all its monsters, what with their faces literally made out of teeth and their creepily evocation of actual, less terrifying animals. Death’s not exactly something new to him, which is sorta sad, as a seventeen year old.

But in the five years since this shit all started, he’s never, ever had a “lightning strike, life flash before his eyes” kinda moment.

At least not for himself.

It’s funny, in like the world’s least funny and most morbid kinda way. Is it possible to have someone else’s life flash before your eyes? Only if you know them well enough, Mike would venture to guess. Only if you’ve been part of so many key moments in their life, only if your life is so deeply intertwined with theirs, and only if they are the one brushing hands with death and preparing to meet their end.

Yeah. That would be Mike’s guess.

Except that it isn’t a guess anymore. It’s actually something that’s happening, right here, right now in front of him, playing out like the world’s worst movie written by a screenwriter with a personal vendetta against Mike Wheeler himself. Lightning strikes—figuratively and literally—and Will’s life flashes before Mike’s eyes, right as his best friend pushes him out of the way and puts his own body in between Mike and a rabid, snarling demodog.

We killed it, a voice in the back of Mike’s mind protests, and that voice isn’t wrong. Mike could have sworn that thing was already dead, that its snarls had been reduced to mere whimpers, that the threat had already been neutralized by a stroke of sheer luck and some unfortunate How To Fight In the Apocalypse 101 training they’ve picked up on over the last few years.

Clearly, the thing’s not dead though. Clearly, it’s alive, and in the slow motion moment when it lunges at Mike and Will pushes Mike out of the way and the demodog makes contact with Will’s back, Will Byers’ entire life as Mike Wheeler knows it flashes before his eyes.

Kindergarten and the swing set. Becoming best friends.

First grade and meeting Lucas. Their party of two becomes a party of three.

Second, third, fourth grade and running around on the playground together. Late nights spent talking back and forth about their favorite comic books. Dreaming of worlds together.

Fifth, sixth, seventh grade. Dustin joins their party. DnD is discovered by the four of them, and Will the Wise, as well as all their other characters, is born. Mike’s basement is the safest place in the world.

November 6, 1983. The nightmare begins.

Halloween 1984. It continues.

Summer 1985. It keeps on going and going and going.

Fall 1985. The Byers move away, far, far, far from Mike, and Mike doesn’t know what happens after that—in the in-between months, because he wasn’t part of Will’s life back then. He did that to himself.

Spring 1986. The worst fucking road trip ever and the start of the literal fucking apocalypse.

1986, 1987, 1988.

Every. Single. Moment.

And now.

Thunder rumbles above them, and with it echoes Will’s cry of pain as the demodog sinks its teeth into his back—into his wings, Mike thinks, vaguely, somewhere in the haze of his mind. He hasn’t heard Will scream like that in years. Not since the Mind Flayer incident, that night at the lab.

The scream’s enough to kick him back into action.

Well-thought out action?

…

Not exactly.

See, there are actually no logical thoughts running through Mike’s mind when he throws—quite literally throws—his entire body weight against the snarling demodog. The sheer impact does succeed in his intended, vague plan of getting the dog off Will, but it does, unfortunately, come with the unintended (and very obvious, now that Mike thinks of it) consequence of having said demodog on top of him now.

That’s a lot of teeth, Mike thinks. That thought is quickly followed by a barrage of curse words, Shit, fuck, shit, shit shit, holy fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, as pure survival instincts kick in, and Mike tousles with the demodog. The thing’s growling at him, its entire face full of teeth and spit and blood—Will’s blood and honestly probably some of Mike’s too—snapping at him and trying its best to maul his arm, and holy fucking shit, there’s no lightning strike, but Mike’s going to die, Mike’s going to die, Mike is going to die—

A single gunshot rings out above the silence. Mike’s pretty sure his own heart stops.

Then, barely a split second later, a pained yelp follows the gunshot, and suddenly, sixty something pounds of pure monstrous muscle and evil collapses onto Mike, complete deadweight. Something warm and sticky presses against Mike’s old jacket, and he winces, doing his best to squirm away from the now dead demodog.

Once upon a time, he remembers Mrs. Blackburn from across the street used to complain about how difficult it was to get up when the family’s golden retriever used to make a bed out of her lap. Growing up, Mike had never really understood that, having never owned a dog in his life.

He gets it now.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes, right as he manages to pull himself out from under the dog. His heart somehow must’ve restarted, because now it’s beating faster than it ever has before, and adrenaline courses through his veins, making him feel jittery and out of breath. There’s blood on his clothes and on his arms, so God knows he’ll wake up feeling like hell tomorrow.

But he’s alive. He’s alive. That’s all that matters. Mike’s alive, and so is Will, and—

Suddenly, a pained groan interrupts Mike’s thoughts, and he whips his head around, eyes widening as he catches sight of his best friend.

Lightning strikes above the two of them. Will looks pale in the dim light, his eyes drooping and his legs swaying. He opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but he never quite gets to.

Will’s body hits the ground before either of them are able to say or do anything.

“Will!”

The strangled cry tears itself from Mike’s throat, and once again, his body moves on pure instinct as Mike throws himself down onto the pavement beside Will. Up close, it’s easier to see just how bad Will has been hurt—the ever darkening color of his fabric as the blood continues to flow, staining his shirt and the jacket he’s wearing over it, the open gashes and bite marks underneath torn pieces of fabric, the unsteady rise and fall of his best friend’s chest as Will tries desperately to stay conscious, and—

Bile rises, burning the back of Mike’s throat. His hands, which had been moving with a mind of their own, panicked and full of a desperation and need to help Will, save him, make sure he’s okay, oh God, he has to be okay, now freeze. His heart damn near comes to a stop, and it’s probably a miracle Mike’s still alive with how much his heart has been pounding, then suddenly stopping, then pounding again this evening.

And worst of all, his eyes… his eyes take in a sight Mike had never wanted to see—the familiar, white feathers of his best friend’s wings, now mauled and stained with red. With Will’s wings still folded under his shirt, kept close to himself, it’s difficult to see the full extent of the damage, but Mike knows it’s bad.

This is your fault, the harsh, critical voice in the back of Mike’s mind whispers. This is your fault.

Those words feel like a knife in the heart, and Mike falters, his hands still lingered on Will’s broken and mangled wings. Your fault, that voice taunts again. This is all your—

“M-Mike,” Will wheezes, and Mike can’t help but flinch, looking down to see Will straining to look at him. His face is still pale; his eyes are still barely open. But worst of all, there’s a fear in his eyes—one that Mike has only seen a few other times.

It’s that fear that kicks Mike back into action. His trembling hands, now covered in blood that’s probably Will’s but also Mike’s but also the demodog’s, reach for Will, and Mike squeezes his best friend’s hand as tightly as he can.

“You’re going to be okay,” Mike reassures, even though he has no business saying that. “Just stay with me, Will, okay? Just stay with me; please don’t leave me, okay? Okay, just hold on, just hold on—”

Those words continue to tumble out of Mike’s mouth, mixed in with desperate, snotty sobs, even after Will’s eyes flutter close. He’s still breathing in small shallow gasps, and his hand is slack in Mike’s own, and he’s hurt, Will’s hurt, it’s your fault, your fault, YOUR FAULT—

Please don’t go, Mike thinks. The thought feels far away, lost somewhere in the loud cacophony of anxious thoughts. Please, please, please don’t go; stay with me, please, Will; please don’t go; please.

And then:

I love you.

Truthfully, Mike doesn’t really know what happens after that. He doesn’t know how much time passes or how the others manage to find them or how his body becomes unfrozen from its place, keeping watch over Will. Everything else becomes a blur of rainwater and blood—so much blood—staining the ground and Mike’s hands and Will’s clothes and Will’s wings that awful scarlet red.

This is your fault, that voice whispers to him, the entire ride back to their makeshift home. This is all your fault.

It takes a scary amount of time for Will to wake up.

Time’s a really fucking strange thing, you know? Mike still remembers being six or seven years old and how the weeks between the first day of school and picture day in the first week of October always felt so long. That month stretched on for forever and ever to his little six year old brain, but slowly, as he got older, the month seemed to become a little bit shorter. Then, even shorter the next year and shorter again the next. Growing up, it was as if the older he’d get, the faster time would fly right past him.

But apparently, time has decided it wants to do a complete one-eighty on Mike while he’s down for the count. Apparently, time no longer wants to fly; no, it wants to move at a fucking snail’s speed, dragging on until every second that passes by feels like a minute and each minute feels like an hour and each hour feels like a day.

Time’s really fucking strange.

And so, by the time Will wakes up, Mike honestly doesn’t know how long it’s been since the two of them were attacked. He knows a few things though—some that are helpful and some that aren’t.

Mike knows he hasn’t slept since then, choosing instead to sit by Will’s bedside and watch over him, as if that might do any good.

He knows practically everyone in their little group of Upside Down survivors has tried to convince him to leave, and he knows that, in response, he’d turned into a creature about as vicious as the one who did this to Will.

He knows that the fucking demodog that had attacked Will deserved a far crueler ending than a well-aimed bullet in the heart. He knows that it’s maybe a little sick and twisted for thinking that, and he knows he doesn’t really care right now.

He knows that Will’s wings are broken and torn, feathers brutally ripped off, bones broken underneath, damage near irreparable. He knows that Joyce cried when she saw her son, and he knows that she then picked herself back up and did everything she, with Hopper and Jonathan’s help, did everything she possibly could to mend Will’s broken wings and ease his pain.

And Mike knows that all of this is his fault.

So, when Will wakes up, eyes fluttering open and searching the dimly lit room, relief and guilt go to war inside Mike’s heart and mind. Relief wins out the initial battle, because Will is finally awake, and Mike doesn’t even care that Joyce and Hopper are in the room and can see him cry. But it’s guilt that ultimately wins the war, taking its place as the victor when Will sits up and immediately cries out, instinctively curling his wings around himself and only making things worse.

Bile rises in the back of Mike’s throat, and he feels frozen—just as frozen as he did in that moment when Will had stared up at him, terrified and bleeding out on the pavement. Joyce and Hopper are quick to jump to action, and Joyce’s soothing words fill the quietness in the room, “It’s okay, baby; you’re okay. Just relax, okay? Just breathe for me; that’s good; you’re doing so good, baby.”

Mike can barely hear the words over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears.

Get out, something in the back of his mind pleads. Get out, get out, get out—

He would get out, if he could. But instead, Mike’s stuck here. Completely frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch in horror and try not to throw up as Joyce and Hopper slowly unwrap the bandages around Will’s wings.

Red is the first color Mike sees as the bandages come off. Blood, sticky and dark red, has stained the bandages, and Mike’s eyes wander from that gauze to the wounded appendages. Massive gashes, still a bright, painful shade of maroon, marr Will’s normally white wings, and there are chunks of feathers missing from where the demodog had attacked him. More than that, with Will now awake and able to stretch his wings out more, it’s easier to see the awkward, painful angles his wings are twisted at.

Every single moment and every single touch seems to hurt Will, even if he doesn’t say it.

And all Mike can do is watch. He’s breathing. He has to be. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. His chest is burning; his lungs don’t feel like they’re getting any oxygen. Will’s bandages are discarded to the side—red, red, red replacing white, blooming, spreading, overtaking, and—

“Mike, sweetie?”

Mike flinches sharply, and finally, his body feels unfrozen. He’s able to look somewhere other than the blood-stained bandages and the bloody gashes on Will’s wings, and instead, he turns his attention to Joyce, who’d just called his name.

“S-sorry.” Mike swallows the lump in his throat and tries to remember how to breathe. “Did you, um… did you say something?”

A sad smile forms on Joyce’s face. “I didn’t,” she reassures gently. “But I, ah… I think maybe it would be best if you stepped outside for a bit. Maybe… go get some rest now that Will’s awake.”

Mike’s gut reaction is to protest, but the words die in the back of his throat as Joyce’s gaze flickers to Will’s face. Mike follows her line of sight, and—

Oh.

Red colors Will’s cheeks too, and he’s hiding his face from Mike, like he’s ashamed to be seen crying. It’s hard to see, but Mike can feel the heartbreak and the pain his best friend is experiencing right now. All he wants to do is make it better—to help Will, to somehow make this up to him, to let Will know that he’s here and that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Protest rises again, clawing its way up Mike’s throat, but he manages to bite his tongue and stop himself from yelling, It’s okay; please, it’s okay; you don’t have to hide, not from me. Please don’t hide. It’s okay; I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, and you’re my best friend, and I love you—

Warmth rushes to Mike’s face, and for just a moment, he feels frozen again. There it is again—that thought that keeps sneaking up on him, more and more with each passing day. It’s the confession that Mike’s too much of a coward to say out loud, but he’s no idiot. There’s no denying the implications of those three words.

Not when he couldn’t even write the damn words in a letter to his own girlfriend.

Not when the words sneak up on him, in the most mundane and the most insane moments of his life, like they’re something as natural as breathing.

Not when it’s Will.

I love you, Mike lets himself think again.

Unfreeze.

Mike takes a step forward, ignoring the way his heart pounds inside his chest and the skeptical looks both Hopper and Joyce give him. Instead, he just sits down as carefully as possible as he can onto the bed, and he reaches for Will’s hands, pulling them away from his face so the two of them are looking at one another again.

This is your fault, that voice in the back of Mike’s mind whispers as Will tentatively looks at him, eyes full of grief and shame and embarrassment. It’s all your fault.

Maybe, Mike thinks. But Will needs me.

So, without giving it another thought, Mike scoots close, and he wraps his arms around his best friend, being careful to not exacerbate Will’s injuries. Like two puzzle pieces slotting into place, Will falls easily into his arms, and Mike hugs him close, running his hand up and down Will’s bare arm.

“You’re okay,” Mike whispers. It’s a reassurance and a reminder wrapped up all in two simple words and meant for both of them. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this. I promise. I promise.”

Maybe that’s not a promise he should be making, but it’s one that Mike is going to try and do everything to keep.

Eventually, Will begins to get better.

His wings will never be the same again. That much is clear. Wings are already sensitive appendages—something that both Will and El can attest to—but it doesn’t help that they’re in the middle of the apocalypse with limited medical supplies. Hopper and Joyce do their best, and Will does slowly begin to heal from his injuries.

But his wings will never be the same again.

He doesn’t like talking about it, and that’s fine. Mike doesn’t like thinking about it, much less talking about it, so instead, he pours all of his energy into making sure Will knows he isn’t alone and also into keeping Will’s mind off the current reality of their situation. It’s no easy task, but if there’s one thing Mike’s gotten good at over the last twelve years of their friendship, it’s making Will Byers smile.

It’s… strange, actually. These past couple of months have objectively been some of the worst months of Will’s life—and Mike’s too, if he’s being completely honest. Will has spent these months recovering from a severely traumatic ordeal, both physically and emotionally. They’re living in the middle of the apocalypse, and One could literally return any day now to try and… destroy everything or whatever the fuck he wants to do.

And yet somehow, even in spite of how shitty things have been, the two of them have been able to find a little bit of light in the middle of the darkness.

It’s different, and it’s maybe too soon to say this, but also not soon enough. They’ve been walking down this path for years now, and only in these past couple months has that walk turned into a sprint towards… something – something remarkable and exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Something Mike doesn’t dare name yet, but that he wants to name, every single time those three words, I love you, come to mind.

It’s an ordinary day when he finally finds the courage to.

“Okay, so I was thinking,” Mike announces as the door to Will’s room flings open, and he walks in, the way he’s done dozens of times, “we should—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. Before he can, Will turns around quickly, arms wrapped around himself, and he yelps, “Mike! Jesus, knock next time!”

His face is bright red, his eyes are wide, and his expression is caught somewhere between embarrassed and actually mortified. Part of Mike wants to point out the fact that he’s done this multiple times and Will’s never seemed to care, but the words die in the back of his throat as he takes in the sight of his best friend.

For starters, Will is shirtless, and that – that’s totally fine. That’s fine. Mike doesn’t feel like his face is on fire or anything. Pfft, no. He’s seen Will shirtless hundreds of times, so this situation? Right here? Totally normal. Completely.

…

Anyways.

Beyond that, Will is… clearly trying to hide his wings. Despite the fact that Mike knows it hurts him to not stretch his wings out, he’s folded them down, so that Mike can just barely see the tips of his wings not hidden behind Will’s back. His eyes dart back and forth around the room anxiously, and a pang of hurt and guilt forms in Mike’s heart.

“Will,” Mike whispers, and he takes a step towards his best friend, unable to help himself. “Hey, it – it’s just me. It’s okay.”

Those words, apparently, aren’t the right ones to say, because Will’s face falls. He looks away quickly, wraps his arms around himself, and mutters, “It’s not okay. Just… please… can you go?”

His voice breaks on those last few words, and though he doesn’t say it aloud, Mike hears Will regardless. There’s no one in the world he knows better than Will, just like there’s no one in the world who knows Mike better than Will does. The two of them get each other.

“If you really want me to go, I will,” Mike says quietly and takes another step, holding out his hand for Will to take. “But if not…”

He lets his voice trail off, waiting for Will’s reaction. It takes a few moments, but then finally, Will looks up, eyes watery and heartbroken. He doesn’t say anything; instead, he just slowly unfolds his wings and takes a step backwards, sitting down onto his bed and keeping his arms wrapped around himself.

The invitation goes unspoken but not unsaid, so Mike takes another few steps forward, sitting down beside his best friend. Not a moment later, Will rests his head on Mike’s shoulder, and Mike responds by wrapping his arms around his best friend and holding him close. Neither one of them says a word, but Mike can feel the way the tension dissolves from the room, the way Will’s walls begin to crumble, the way both of them walk hand in hand back towards who they used to be.

There was a point in their lives when things were too confusing. Too messy and too big to figure out. There was a time when this didn’t feel right, even though all Mike wanted to do was keep Will as close to him as possible. He didn’t understand it back then, but he gets it now.

It’s pretty simple, actually. Mike is in love with Will, and he has been for a long, long time. Maybe since before he even met El, but definitely during the extent of their relationship. And while the feelings for El were there, they were never as strong as the ones he felt for Will.

…

The ones he still feels for Will.

So, it’s easy. It’s the most natural thing in the world for Mike to hold his best friend close, to let the rest of the world fall away, to think back to the very same thoughts that had flooded his mind on the rainy night all of this first began. Please don’t leave me, and You’ve gotta be okay; you’re gonna be okay, and even I love you, I love you, I love you. Please don’t go.

Eventually, the tears stop falling, and the room grows quiet once more. The two of them sit there, arms still wrapped around each other, with Will’s head resting against Mike’s chest lightly. He’s shifted a little bit now, wings wrapped around the two of them as best as he can, and it reminds Mike of when they were little, back when Will’s wings were the secret Mike was lucky enough to know and back when the world seemed just a little bit smaller and less overwhelming.

As carefully as he can, Mike adjusts ever so slightly, and he lifts one of his hands, running it across one of the long, jagged scars on Will’s wings. He feels his best friend shiver under the touch, and hesitantly, both of them turn their gazes towards one another.

There’s hesitancy written all over Will’s face, and his gaze flickers to Mike’s hand for just a brief moment, before returning back to Mike’s eyes once more. He looks like he wants to say a million different things, but finally, he settles on quietly saying, “They’ll never be the same again.”

He doesn’t say it aloud, but the words don’t go unsaid.

I’ll never be the same again.

And there – there is the root of all of this, the grief that Mike knows Will has been feeling this whole time. Hell, it’s the same old grief and confusion and pain that’s been around since Will was first rescued from the Upside Down. It’s the same grief that appeared again the year after, and it’s the same grief that keeps on coming back, manifesting itself in new ways, and always posing the same question.

Will I ever be the same person again?

Will any of us?

“Maybe not,” Mike says quietly. The words don’t feel nearly big enough to even begin to say what he truly means and how he truly feels. All he can do is hope that Will understands what he’s trying to say—that the words he can manage right now are enough until he musters up enough courage to truly tell Will everything Mike needs to say to him. “But they’re still beautiful.”

You’re still beautiful, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, Mike just runs his hand delicately down the broken, scarred wing, never once taking his eyes off Will. And I love you.

Will takes a shuddered breath, and despite the watery look still in his eyes, he manages to smile. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah,” Mike whispers back, and he scoots closer, one arm still wrapped around Will and the other still gently stroking the patches of white feathers on Will’s wings. In return, Will wraps his wings around the two of them even tighter, and the smile on his face grows. He seems more relaxed. More at home. “I really do.”

The words still aren’t everything that Mike wants to say, but Will gets it. He always does. And one day, hopefully soon, the two of them will be able to talk about this, and Mike will be able to speak the words that have been echoing through his mind and that he’s kept close to his heart ever since the moment he came to this realization.

Someday.

#byler #byler ficlet #andi writes not dies #andi's asks #ok sorry the ending was rushed #truthfully i probably could've written like 2k more words #but i was like oh this is getting Long #wing ficlet!#woohooo!!!

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kairakeiji · 2 years

Text

it’s the cheering of your classmates that reminds you where you’re currently sitting.

the tassle turning from right to left, the applause from family members, and the sheer amount of caps flying through the air sends a rush through your body as a sigh leaves your lips, drinking in everything these few short moments had to offer.

you did it. you graduated, and the smile that graces your lips reminds you of just that.

you instantly turn to akaashi, sitting next to you with a grin of his own. he pulls you into his arms as your classmates continue to cheer, your own grip on him is tight as your head rests on his shoulder.

“we did it,” he whispers into your ear.

“we did it,” you mumble back.

over a decade of education, over ten years of being in the same classroom with the same students, this chapter of your life is suddenly coming to a close.

you pull away to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, “i’m so proud of you.”

“my darling,” he sighs, hand reaching up to cup your cheek as you lean into his touch. “i’m so proud of you.”

you laugh, “we’ve come so far keiji,” you smile.

and you have. ten years of being friends, seven of secret pining, and two years of being together have brought you closer than you could ever imagine. you’ve seen each other at your best and at your worst. you’ve been with him at your highest highs and lowest lows. you were there when the volleyball team qualified for nationals, when he placed top ten in the grade, and when he became captain of the team. yet you’ve been there for every loss and every moment where he was on the brink of burnout.

no matter what you were by his side.

and in a moment as special as this, neither of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“i love you,” he smiles, voice filled with nothing but certainty as he meets your gaze.

even now when he says it, even though you’ve heard it thousands of times, it still makes your heart race. it makes you forget the crowd of students celebrating around you, letting the world melt away until it’s just you two.

“i love you too,” you sigh before you lean in close, your lips meeting his as the melody in your heart swells.

and he kisses you as his classmates celebrate, he kisses you as family and friends cheer, he kisses you once the tassel is turned and the caps are thrown.

because he’s been waiting for this for over a decade, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you laugh as you pull away, pulling his cap off his head to toss it, and you cheer as akaashi does the same with yours, both of you watching your caps fly into the air before you turn back to each other.

“we need to go find those,” he reminds you.

“we can worry about that later,” you shrug before looking at your classmates, the applause has died down and your classmates are making their way to their family and friends. and akaashi can’t help but smile, because the one person he’s looking for is sitting right next to him.

“ready for the future?” you tease.

and he grins.

“as long as you’re by my side,” he smiles.

because he wouldn’t have it any other way.

let’s pretend akaashi sat next to me when i graduated last week...anyway kairakeiji comeback woot woot

thanks for reading! reblogs/interaction are always appreciated <33

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persephoneandherhades · 6 months

Text

I posted on Facebook the other day. I don't normally ever post on facebook. However I have been back in my home state for 2 months now so I figured it was time I let the general public know. I took a selfie with my sister at a popular local festival and posted it. I knew that at least one person I used to know would probably reach out but I didn't know who it would be.

It was my ex best friend.

I'm not entirely sure how we got to be ex friends. I made it clear I was intending to escape the state and that was apparently enough for her to put distance between us. I wanted her to get out of there with me. Be free of our tiny home town together. She didn't want to go, and apparently she didn't want to be long distance friends either. We weren't talking before I had even started finding housing. Maybe I offended her or she had other things going on that I didn't know about. I always thought I would never know why. I always thought I would never come back.

But here I am again in the place I was desperate to leave. And she is reaching out, wanting to meet up and catch up after 6 years of silence.

I have spent the last 6 years finding my highest highs and lowest lows. I abandoned every belief I had ever had and formed new ones. Gained new traumas to go with the old. And becoming this cynical sad person is the result. I have barely had any friends to speak of in the last 6 years. I had no one I could really talk to.

I never blamed her for distancing herself from me but it still hurt. I would think of her every time I had something good happen and I wanted to tell someone. I thought of her when I found a particularly pretty view while driving. I thought of her every time I had a bad day. I thought of her every time my loneliness was crushing me and I was begging for it to end. I thought of her when I was picking out bridesmaids for my wedding and how I always thought she would be my maid of honor. I thought of her when I made the decision to get a divorce. I thought of her on my birthday and hers every year since they are only a few days apart. I missed her every day for 6 years.

And now she has reached out. After 6 years of nothing she wants to be my friend again.

I'm sure the last 6 years were just as life changing for her. I wonder if she ever thought of me while I was gone. Did she miss me even half as much as I missed her?

I have 2 parts of me warring. Part of me wants to jump back into friendship with her like I never left. I want to end my loneliness finally and act like it never happened. The other part of me is convinced that this is some elaborate plan. The second I really begin to trust her she will reveal it was all a prank to show how pathetic I am and that she is just pretending to want to reconnect. That part of me is convinced that I did something 6 years ago to make her hate me without knowing it and now she wants revenge.

The part of me that is most broken by the last 6 years is my ability to trust. It has been so corroded that now I cant tell caution from paranoia.

But she was my best friend. She was the one person who really knew me. It is basically built into me to trust her. We knew each other for so long that I barely remember not knowing her. How do I make this choice? How do I pick a side to believe in?

Do I trust and potentially get hurt or protect myself and never know?

#personal #persephone speaks #best friends #mental health

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

The Agreement Chapter 4: Recriminations

Series: The Agreement

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Mature themes

Song Inspiration: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer

Remember the words you told me, love me 'til the day I die

Surrender my everything 'cause you made me believe you're mine

Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me by name

Takes one to know one, yeah

You beat me at my own damn game

Lately our conversations end like it's the last goodbye

Yeah, one of us gets too drunk and calls about a hundred times

So who you been calling, baby, nobody could take my place

When you're looking at those strangers, hope to God you see my face

Word Count: 4,119

A/N: Riley and Liam deal with the emotional fallout of Riley's choices.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley stepped off the plane and inhaled the crisp morning air. Autumn in Cordonia was always her favorite. The bite of the slightly chilled air felt amazing. Especially after the heat of Texas in the summer.

“How the hell is it this hot in September?” Riley groused as she pulled at her dress.

“Sorry, babe.” Drake told her, “Sometimes fall skips Texas altogether.”

“How is that possible?” She blinked up at him.

“One night you go to bed sweating and the next morning you wake up cold.”

Riley’s eyes slid to Savannah who raised her shoulders, “He’s telling the truth.”

Her eyes tracked back to her husband to find him studying her, his soft brown eyes filled with concern, “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Do you need to go back inside? We can postpone this.”

“Fuck no, Walker. We’re doing this thing!” Her entire mood shifted when she looked into his face, “Let’s go get re-hitched!”

Her hand was in his as they made their way through the airport, her eyes slightly unfocused as her mind whirled with details about getting Valtoria ready for the baby, his locked firmly on her wondering what she was thinking about.

Liam probably.

They had spent four months, the entirety of the summer, in Texas and there had been no communication between the king of Cordonia and the duchess of Valtoria.

He knew that wouldn’t, couldn’t, last.

Riley caught a glimpse of two members of the King’s Guard as Drake helped her into the back of the car that would take them home.

She sighed as leaned back into the plush leather upholstery of the limo. Of course.

Liam already knew they were back. Nothing had ever been on her terms.

That was about to change.

She had thought that letting herself fall fully in love with Drake would have done something to diminish her feelings for Liam. But the truth was she'd been falling for Drake for years, slowly, almost imperceptibly and it had done nothing to even dull the edges of her love for the man that had shattered her.

Liam had broken her heart, but he had also opened it up in the first place, he had swept her off her feet as well as sweeping her feet out from under her.

He was her first real love, and her first real heartbreak, he could make her feel like the only person in the world and also like the most insignificant one. Being with him had brought her to the highest highs and lowest lows of her life.

Her feelings for Liam were complicated.

She stared out the window as they drove, watching the reds and oranges of falling leaves.

Drake sat next to her. Her hand was still clasped in his.

She turned her head and gave him a smile.

Her feelings for Drake were simple.

~~~~~

Riley groaned in protest as a persistent ringing slowly penetrated the fog of her sleep clouded brain. “Who the hell is calling you at this hour?” she grumbled irritably as she rolled toward Drake.

“It's not my phone.” he said, his tone guarded.

She cracked her eyes open to give him a baleful look. She envied him his ability to come immediately and completely awake on a moment's notice no matter how little sleep he had. Occupational hazard he had told her, first from the military, then later from being in the Royal Guard.

He had loved being in the Guard. Something else he had given up to marry her, become a duke and devote his life to ruling.

She fumbled for her phone in the dark. “Hello? Liam?” She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the time. What the hell? “Do you know what time it is? Are you…are you drunk?”

Drake swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his clothes, grabbing his underwear and pajama bottoms from the pile in the floor where they had been carelessly tossed just hours earlier.

“Hold on a minute,” Riley said into the phone, then to her husband, “where are you going?”

“To give you a little privacy.” he replied.

She sat up shaking her head as she reached for him, “No, you don’t have to. Drake, please-“

“Hey,” he told her as he leaned over and ran his fingers through her hair before placing a kiss on her forehead, “It's okay. I'll be right back.”

He had known that eventually Liam was going to make an appearance.

He hadn’t expected it to be a drunken two a.m. phone call on their first night back but here they were.

Riley watched him walk out of their bedroom as she held the phone to ear.

“He can't take my place Riley, and you know it!”

“Hello to you too.”

“Remember when you told me you loved me forever? You can't be serious about this!”

“I can’t be serious about what, Liam?” Anger burned the last vestiges of sleep away.

“Any of it! Is it mine, Riley?”

“Is what yours?”

“The baby! It’s mine, isn’t it?” He demanded.

She snorted, “No, Your Majesty, it’s fucking not so you don’t have to worry about your precious public reputation!”

“No, that’s not what I��.” On the other end of the line, Liam squeezed his eyes shut as pain shot through him. He had wanted it to be his.

Which begged the question, why hadn’t he agreed to have a baby with her sooner; while there was still time, still a chance for them? Why hadn’t he just given her what she wanted?

Regret, pain and desperation surged through him, but what came out of his mouth was a snarl, “I want a paternity test!”

“Oh yeah? Really? The press would have a field day with that, wouldn’t they?” She’d gone from angry to livid.

How fucking dare he try and act like he gave a shit now. This baby was Drake’s. This baby was hers! Her pregnancy was the first thing in six years that she had done for herself and goddamned if he was going to tarnish that.

“I don’t give a fuck about the press, Riley! This is about us! You and me!”

“Since when is the press not a consideration in any discussion about us, Liam, huh?”

“I have a right to know if I have a child, Riley!”

“You do have a child, with your wife! Or did you forget about that?”

“You know what I mean! If this baby is mine-“

“Then what, Liam? Huh? What? If this baby is yours, you’ll ignore him, see him a few times a year? Keep his existence a secret from everyone? Make him feel worthless and unloved just like you did to me?”

“Riley….” Was he crying? “I never meant to make you feel that way…I’m sorry…please…”

“Please what?” Now they were both crying.

“I can’t do any of this without you….”

“You’ve been doing everything without me just fine for six years!”

“No, I haven’t! You don’t know what it’s been like for me not being able to be with you like I want to be!”

Her mouth fell open, “I don’t know what it’s been like for you? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Riley….please….”

“I’m done with this conversation. Go to sleep, Liam. Don’t fucking call me again until you can do so sober!”

She ended the call, tossed the phone to the side and drew her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them and dropped her head onto them. She let the tears flow freely down her face as she sobbed quietly.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting like that when she heard her husband’s voice.

“You okay?”

She lifted her head to find Drake standing in the doorway, a tray loaded with food in his hands.

“What’s all this?” She asked with a sniffle.

“Oh this?” He lifted the tray with a grin. He brought it to the bed and took a seat next to her, “Thought the baby might want a midnight snack.”

Her stomach growled. “I could eat.”

“Healthy food first!” He lifted half a turkey sandwich from a plate and held it out to her.

She giggled as she took it, “You’re too good to me.”

“Nah.” He smiled as he took the other half of the sandwich, “That’s not possible.”

Her eyes scanned the tray. It was loaded with all her favorite comfort foods. Fresh tears sprang into her eyes as her heart filled with love for this man.

His smile faded, “You want to talk about it?”

“These tears are good ones! I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffed, as he brought the sandwich to his mouth and looked away, “I’m the lucky one and everybody knows it.”

She laughed as she brushed the wetness from her face.

They ate in companiable silence for a while.

Drake regarded his wife thoughtfully as he chewed. She hadn’t chosen him so much as she had chosen herself, he understood that.

He knew that, on some level, what she had chosen was to not give Liam another chance to hurt and disappoint her. The choice had been between going to the palace that night, or going to Texas and everything that both places represented.

Choosing the palace meant choosing to continue the cycle of hurt and heartbreak with all the commiserate baggage and detritus. Riley had chosen to break free of all that.

And he was proud of her for it.

But he had no delusions that she and Liam were actually over.

~~~~~~

“I’m so sorry Your Majesty, but I…I can’t give you that information. You’re not on the approved list of people who have access to her itinerary.” Riley’s personal assistant squeaked. She looked like she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

His mouth fell open, “I am the fucking king! Who the hell does have access?”

“Her husband.” The girl flinched at the cold fury that crashed across the king’s features.

Even in his agitated state, he saw the irony. Was this karma?

Liam opened the door to Riley’s bedroom to find her crying in Drake’s arms. “What’s wrong? I came as soon as I got your message!”

“I…I just needed to see you…” She sobbed quietly as she moved from Drake’s embrace to bury her face in Liam’s chest. “My grandmother passed away this morning and I just needed to see you.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my love.” He crooned gently as he stroked her hair, “Do you need help making the arrangements?”

She shook her head, “Drake already helped me with all that.”

Liam’s eyes flicked up to meet Drake’s. He should be grateful. Why did he feel angry about it? What he said was, “Thank you.”

Drake just nodded, his expression blank, unreadable.

“I’ll have the royal jet fueled and ready to go for you.”

“Already done.” Drake said.

Liam felt annoyance fill his chest again. He ignored his best friend as he asked Riley, “When are you leaving?”

She jerked back in surprise, “Me? You mean us? When are we leaving, right?”

“I’m so sorry, love. I can’t get away right now. If we were married, then of course, it would be expected. But if I cancel my diplomatic obligations to go with a ‘friend’ to a funeral, people will want to know why.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that…” She knew he was right, but it still hurt.

“I’ll go with you, Riley.” Drake said quietly.

Fucking Drake.

Liam knew he should be grateful that someone would be there for her. He knew that Drake was just doing what he himself had asked him, no, begged him, to do.

He was being her husband.

The problem was that Liam wanted to be her husband and he found himself resenting Drake more and more as time went by.

Liam hated the way her body sagged with relief at Drake’s simple statement, the way her eyes lit up with gratitude as she thanked him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Next time have my assistant page me.”

“I tried! She said that you weren’t to be disturbed and that she wasn’t at liberty to give out your schedule to just anyone. Just anyone Liam, that’s what I am now!”

“No!” He murmured into her hair as tears pricked at his own eyes, “You’ll never be just anyone to me. You’ll always be my everything.”

“Why are you harassing my assistant?”

He spun to find Riley had just entered the room. Her eyes were cold, her tone sharp.

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to find you!”

She said nothing as she made her way through the outer office and pulled open the door to her private office.

She didn’t bother to look back. He followed her into the office and closed the door behind them.

“What are you doing here, Liam?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

He gaped at her, “What do you mean about what? About us! I’ve been trying to give you space, Riley, but it’s been six months! Six fucking months with no word from you at all!”

“I didn’t choose you, Liam, remember? And you didn’t call.” She tossed the stack of folders she’d been carrying onto her desk.

“What?”

“I didn’t show up at the palace that night, and you didn’t call me to find out why. Not that night, not the next day, not the day after that, not-“

“I fucking called you the day you got back to Cordonia!”

“You drunk dialed me, Liam! And even that was four months after the fact!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not calling you the next day to ask how you were enjoying fucking my best friend! Which, you’d already been doing behind my goddamned back for god knows how fucking long in the first place, right?”

“Fuck you, Liam. Why are you here?”

“How long?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Liam’s jaw was clenched so tight his teeth might shatter, “How long were you fucking Drake behind my back?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“How is it not my business, Riley?”

“By virtue of the fact that you married another woman, Liam!”

“You know damn good and well I’m not in love with her and I’m not sleeping with her!”

“You slept with her once.”

“Once! Literally once, Riley!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve slept with Drake a lot more than once!” She regretted the words the moment they left her lips.

She had wanted it to hurt.

Liam stumbled back like he’d been hit.

Bullseye.

“Liam, I’m sorry….” She stepped forward and reached a hand out to caress his cheek.

He took her hand from his face and pulled her closer. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his breath came in deep gulps as he stared into her eyes, searching for something, anything to indicate she still loved him.

She had fucked his best friend.

She was his best friend.

She had chosen another man over him.

He had chosen another woman over her first.

She had put a knife squarely through his heart, and his back.

He loved her.

She might not love him anymore.

He loved her.

She made him hurt like he had never hurt in his life.

He loved her.

He could fix it all.

He wrapped his arms around her and attacked her lips with his. He felt her go stiff in his arms for a fraction of a second, then her body relaxed, and she kissed him back.

She kissed him back.

She still loved him.

As the kiss deepened, and heated, his hands stared to roam across the familiar curves and valleys of her body. Every inch of it as familiar to him as his own.

Until he felt the unfamiliar and new curve of her stomach under his palm.

Right. She was pregnant.

With Drake’s baby.

He pulled his hand away like it had just been scorched and stepped away from her.

He struggled to get his emotions in check before he met her gaze again.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” She challenged.

“What?”

“Seeing the person you love have a child with someone else.”

“No.” He answered, his voice clipped.

“I’m happy, Liam.” She said as she cradled her bump, “I’ve always wanted to be a mother, you know that.”

“But it was supposed to be us!”

“I know.” She said softly.

A little sadly?

“But it wasn’t.” She continued, “And it was never going to be.”

“I just needed a little more time!” He insisted.

“It’s been six years!” She yelled.

The angry retort that leapt to his lips died there as he took in her demeanor.

She was angry, but she was also hurt.

He had hurt her.

Badly.

And he had been completely blind to it.

“You’re right.” He admitted in defeat.

“I know I’m right.” Despite her best efforts, hot, angry tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorrier than I can ever tell you.” He took a step toward her.

She stepped away.

“Can we go somewhere and talk about this? Please? Let me take you to dinner.”

“Maybe another time, Liam. I can’t tonight.” She said his name so formally, so coldly.

Liam. She used to call him her king.

“Why?”

“Because I told Drake I'd be home for dinner tonight.” She wiped the tears from her face as she moved behind her desk and started gathering up paperwork.

Liam’s jaw clenched, “So, you're letting him control you now?”

“What?” She looked up at him in surprise, “No! It's not about that!”

“What’s it about then?”

“Common fucking courtesy, Liam!” She shoved the papers into her attaché case furiously as she spoke, “He didn't ask me to be back at any certain time, he made no demands upon my time! He never does! But I said I'd be back at a specific time, and I intend to keep my word! I'm not going to have him sitting there watching the clock waiting for someone who doesn't show up! I know what that feels like, and I won’t do that to him!”

“Can't you just call him and tell him plans have changed?”

“Is it really that simple Liam?”

“Yes, it’s really that fucking simple, Riley!” He yelled.

She pressed her lips together in a tight line as enmity filled her eyes. Her voice was low and seething with barely contained hostility when she asked, “Then why did you never do it?”

~~~~

Drake and Max were catching up, having predinner drinks at Valtoria while waiting for Riley to return from a late meeting when a floral delivery arrived.

Drake signed for the flowers and closed the front door. Max followed him to the kitchen where he sat the vase carefully on the counter.

The flowers and gifts had been arriving daily for weeks, ever since Liam’s unexpected appearance at her office.

“So, he isn’t giving up, I see.” Max observed.

“Nope.”

Max spotted a red velvet jewelry case on the counter. He flipped the lid open curiously then let out a low whistle, “Wow, Drake, that fucking necklace is worth more than everything you own!”

“Probably.” Drake shrugged.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

“Why not? I think it would bother me.”

“Because it doesn't matter. If he doesn't figure out that material things aren't what she needs or wants he isn’t going to get very far.”

Max gave him an appraising look, “And you give her what she needs?”

“Damn straight I do!” He sounded confident, sure, a man with no doubts.

Riley plucked the box out of his hands, her face lighting up, “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” He replied carefully, “It’s not from me.”

“Oh.” Her face fell as she unwrapped it.

She cracked the box opened and stared down at the glittering jewels, sparkling sapphires surrounded by brilliant diamonds. It had to have cost more than the palatial estate they were currently standing in. Which Liam had also given her.

But his money wasn’t what she wanted.

Her face betrayed no expression as she snapped the lid closed and tossed it onto the counter.

Looking up at her husband, the smile returned to her face, “So, what do you want for dinner?”

“Riley, don’t you think we should talk about-“

“There’s nothing to talk about, Drake. Unless you want to help me pick out a stroller. I am seriously torn between three different ones, and I could use some help deciding.”

“Okay.” He gave up. She would talk to him about it when she was ready and not a moment before. He knew her well enough to know that.

~~~~

Liam kicked the closest piece of furniture, sending it skittering across the sitting room.

It had been weeks since his argument with Riley and she still wasn’t returning his calls.

“What did the ottoman do to you?” Madeleine asked, a note of amusement in her voice.

Liam’s head jerked up in surprise. He had thought he was alone in the room. He took in his wife’s appearance. Her perfectly coifed hair, her flawlessly applied makeup, her ramrod straight posture.

Why couldn’t he just love her? It would make everything so much easier.

But he didn’t and it wouldn’t matter if he did. She didn’t love him either.

His days were filled with meetings, political agendas, business, diplomacy, and considerations of the crown.

His nights were filled with torment.

He drowned his sorrows in bourbon.

His dreams were haunted by the smell of lilac and lavender and by the memory of dark tresses and soulful ocean blue eyes.

It had always been that way, ever since his wedding, but now that she wasn’t speaking to him, it was infinitely worse.

He missed her. He missed the soft, velvet touch of her hands, the lyrical sound of her voice, the way butterflies erupted in his stomach every time she smiled at him.

At least before he had known that he would see her again, would hold her again, would be loved by her again. Even if those stolen moments had been few and far between.

The ache in his chest coiled tighter around his heart as he considered, for the first time, that he truly might never touch her again. His heart split open at the thought of having actually lost her.

“It’s Riley.” Slipped from his lips before he thought better of it.

“Oh?” Madeleine regarded him curiously, “Is something wrong?”

“She’s not speaking to me. She’s playing house with Drake, for real and she….she’s pregnant.” He saw the alarm on his wife’s face and headed off her question, “It’s not mine.”

“Ah.”

Not that he had expected sympathy. “Ah? What’s Ah mean?”

“Nothing…just….It's been 6 years Liam, what's changed?”

“Riley's changed! She thinks I took her for granted! And now she’s ignoring me! I just want to make it right, but she won’t even talk to me!”

“Huh.” Madeline raised an eyebrow in consideration, “Well, good for her.”

“Good for her?” He stared at his wife in astonishment.

“Yes, Liam. Good for her! Is she right? Have you been taking her for granted? Have you prioritized her in any way?”

He stared at her in astonishment, “I thought you, of all people, would understand why I’ve made the choices I’ve made! The optics! The press! Public-“

“Oh, cut the shit, Liam.” Madeleine fixed him with a soul piercing stare, “Cordonia's future is secure. We’ve given them an heir and you’ve been a good king. Your approval ratings are high. The country is thriving. What’s your real issue?”

He gaped at her, “Aren’t you worried about a scandal?”

“I was.” She admitted, “But not so much anymore. I think the goodwill we’ve built can weather it if the affair came to light. Besides, none of it would touch me. I’d be the injured wife. The only negative blowback would be to your public image. Is your male ego so fragile that you couldn’t handle a little dirt on your name for the woman you love?”

“That….that….that’s not it at all!” He sputtered.

“Then what is it?”

“I wasn’t just protecting the image of the crown; I was protecting her! I was shielding her from being dragged through the mud again and cast as a homewrecker!”

“Did you ask her if she wanted your protection from that?”

“What?”

“It was a simple question, Liam. Did you let her in on what you were doing or is this coronation night all over again?”

“I….” His perception of the last six years shifted.

He was an idiot.

A colossal, massive, world class idiot.

#angst with a happy ending #why choose #reverse harem #the royal romance #trr poly #the agreement #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories we play #choices fandom #choices trr #trr #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction

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sukimas · 8 months

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the highest high i have ever had in language learning was when a french person complimented my french accent (not even "for an american" just "oh your accent is very nice"). the lowest low i have ever had was realizing i can pull off the ɽ perfectly fine with only six or so years practice but i will never be able to fucking roll my Rs despite speaking to people who speak spanish and italian since i was a young child. :(

#the closest i get is the francophone r #which is more of a rh

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

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A Living Piece

WARNING: this one might be kind of gross? IDK use your best judgement i guess.

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

Adam had always been an optimist, not the naive kind of optimist that hopes everything is going to be alright all the time, but that kind of optimism that assumed he could make it through anything. Perhaps it was less optimist and more a sense of balance that he believed in. Where there are highs there are lows, where there is evil there is good, and where there is pain there is joy. Light cannot exist without dark Yin and Yang sort of logic. Adam had experienced some terrible lows in life, but he had always been comforted by his optimistic assumption that there had to be some balance, his lowest lows had to be balanced out by his highest highs, and the lower he went his only assumption was that there might be an amazing high waiting for him later.

Up to his point in his life that rule had remained true enough. It had started out small of course, his poor school experience balanced out by a food family, his high school experience turning into his training at the academy. Those joyful years learning to fly and meeting aliens balanced right back out with the Drev war, and the incredible low he had hit with the loss of his leg. Getting his ship, losing his eye, meeting sunny and later falling in love with her. All of this and then the birth of his son which was such a high high he could now see that it required an incredibly low low.

One he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come back from.

He didn’t want to leave a widow, or a fatherless child.

Two now since his sacrifice had been successful, but what was to stop Kazna from trying again.

He was only aware of the first few minutes following the trident entering his chest, acutely aware of the way it had torn through one of his lungs and, likely fatally, impacted his heart or close enough to it. He had lain there as Sunny stepped over his body, hot blood beginning to pool under his torso. She hadn’t looked at him, but neither bothrered nor surprised him.

She was a Drev, having her battle partner fall in combat was not uncommon, and the only response that would have seemed optional to her must have been to attack.

He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

And then

Things began to fade and the world around him flickered. When he closed his eyes, his mind sort of… collapsed, some unseen barrier in his head losing its strength and falling away to let him mind drift outward. Perhaps it was the beginning of the slow degradation of his mind, but that thought was only present as a whisper as his consciousness spilled across the open floor, rolling in a slow inevitable wave like the viscus spreading of honey.

It was Krill’s mind he touched first, Followed by Mitzen, and Conn, and all the way up until he reached Sunny. Her thoughts were familiar to him, comforting like his favorite song, and with a certain cadence personal only to her. It was a driving rhythm but at the same time very steady.

At this point he was too far gone to really be aware of where he was or what he was doing, but her mind was familiar, comforting, and in an effort to escape a lingering fear and pain, he found himself drawn to her, sinking into her thoughts like warm scalding water.

There were thoughts on the surface, just the flash of battle, more instinct than thought. Just the rhythm that came with combat.

And that was nice too

And there was anger.

And fear,.

He sunk deeper, deeper than he had ever gone before, unaware at ont point that it had been possible searching for something soft or calm. The memory that he found was neither but it was one he could certainly linger upon… because he hadn’t seen it before

***

Nearly ten months, ten months and the days seemed to stretch into weeks. WIthout a sun overhead to track the passage of time, Sunny had always felt that Arcadia moved slower, somehow. She leaned against the glass of the window in the spiral tower and watched. Below her on the street people crawled like insects over the slowly growing metropolis.

Behind her, water burbled, and the tree waited as trees always waited in the silence. The place seemed so big now, big and empty with an echo that only reminded her of what was missing. She wasn’t alone of course, off to her right, resting on the couch was waffles, curled into a tight ball, her snout resting gently on her paws. When sunny looked at her, the dog’s tail beat once or twice in acknowledgement. Sunny had to look away from the sad brown eyes and up into the tree where Jeffrey sat curled around a waiting branch.

When hse looked at him, he made a soft chirping noise, but otherwise remained still

She was restless.

Incredibly restless.

She felt like she needed to move, needed to walk. She thought about heading outside and going on a hike into the dark moorlands beyond the city, but thought better of it. So instead she paced around the floor of the apartment and thought about just how distant this all was from how her life had originally been. Billions of miles and countless man hours of invention away from her moss thatched hut back on anin.

Strange how her life had come to this,.

Strange and now kind of sad.

She sighed again and rubbed her lower hands absently against her thighs which, along with her hips, had been aching all week. Aching and joint pain wasn’t something usually ascribed to drev, that was more of a human thing, but here it was. She stepped back from the window, eyes momentarily focusing on her reflection in the dark glass.

She looked the same as she always had, and was eternally grateful that Drev didn’t change in the way humans did. She trend to the side trying to imagine the big bulbous lump that would have marked a human woman in the latter stages of pregnancy, but as a Drev the signs were subtle and her torso remained mostly unchanged.

That’s what happens when you have more room.

Her inhumanity was the one blessing she could hold onto as, there were a lot of unknowns in this territory that certainly weren’t covered. Like the looming chance that the child wouldn’t even be viable. There had only ever been one other naturally occurring hybrid birth on Anin, and Krill had been forced to preform an emergency cesarean section on a Finnari mother struggling to contain a human hybrid baby. The baby had been fine of course, but that was a sample size of one.

Sunny had seen the images of course, all of the ultrasounds, and strange technology that let her see her offspring before it was even here. Krill said there was a heartbeat, and it was most certainly moving.

She could feel that well enough.

But being alive inside her and alive on the outside of her were two different things. What if it couldn’t breathe normally. The human and Drev respiratory systems were perhaps one of the most different things about them. How the adapted DNA could moderate that was one of her greatest fears.

Which is why Krill had been staying in the apartment just below them in case something were to happen.

She turned in a slow circle as the aching in her hips intensified.

Off to the side waffles lifted her head in some interest, and leaped down from the couch.

Sunny patted her head as she moved closer.

Waffles whined.

Sunny frowned, “I fed you this morning didn’t I?”

Waffles backed away from Sunny’s hand and whined again circling her sharply.

Sunny looked at her still with some confusion, ‘I’m sorry I don’t understand.” Waffles whined again and Sunny sighed, stretching her lower back which was now beginning to ache along with her hips, “If you don’t tell me what you want I can’t get it for you. Do you want to go outside/’

Waffles just stared at her.

“You aren’t about to throw up are you. That is a moment I never want to experience again, thanks. If you eat weird things you get what is coming to you.

Waffles just whimpered again.

“I don’t speak-” she paused and leaned against the window, “Ouch.” Her entire back, her hips, and referred pain all the way down to her knees,

This was getting stupid,

“Well if you don’t need anything I’m going to find some scalding hot water to soak in.” She said mumbling under her breath heading through the door to her room and into the bathroom. She pointedly ignored her reflection in the mirror and walked over to the shower, which she switched on to let warm. Adam always complained she liked to take her showers at Volcanic heat, and it wasn't long before the bathroom was filled with steam and radiating heat.

It must have been the heat that did it, thousands of years of ritual birth on the edge of volcanos. Perhaps it was simply the heat that did it, but the aching in her hips suddenly sharpened, rolled upwards into her abdomen where all of the muscles in her lower body seemed to tighten all at once against her bidding.

She gripped the edge of the counter before the pain passed leaving her with the dull aching again.

Sunny stared at her foggy reflection in the mirror, and then poked her head out into the bedroom where Waffles was lying by the door, “I get it,” She said to the dog who lifted her head and whined again.

“Now?” Sunny muttered

Waffles barked.

“Not a false alarm?”

Waffles barked again.

Sunny reached down to pat her through the open door and then retreated back into the heat. She walked over to the tap and turned it up even higher until condensation was beading on her carapace. She didn’t have a volcano but this would have to do.

She was oddly disappointed she didn’t have a volcano.

Her bathroom was significantly less impressive.

But still it was warm, and the heat was nice even as her body went into spasms again. She could have called Krill, probably should have but something stopped her. Old drev beliefs dying hard.

This was something she wanted to do alone.

She hated the way humans did it, making a spectacle of things.

She didn’t want a spectacle.

Another wave of pain came, and she slowly lowered herself to her knees sitting with her head down, silent and waiting as steam washed over her body.

The aching had begun late the day before, so she supposed that meant she had been in inactive labor for a little over 12 hours now and just hadn’t noticed it. That could happen to Drev though she wasn't sure it could happen to humans. The waves continued to come, faster and faster, each one more painful than the last. She stayed silent fists clenched, body ridged, all her muscles taught counting up the seconds as each wave of pain hit her. The pain grew worse and she was doubled over, on her hands and knees now breath coming in sharp hissing gasps, but she would not make a sound.

Fearing it would ruin her concentration.

The pain reached a crescendo, and with heat and water rolling down her body. Her vision went red, and then white hot and then red again, and her entire body shook from the force. Then something gave.

Her lower hands were positioned just right to catch it, warm and unpleasantly slimy. The floor around her was spattered with orange blood , but Sunny didn’t care. She staggered to her feet holding the tiny body up in the palms of her hands, searching its face for signs of life.

For a horrible moment she thought something was wrong with it, its entire body a sort of livid red covered in orange gore nose screwed up, and something covering its head. It had all together too many limbs and not enough carapace, and she couldn’t tell what was wrong with it for the first horrible seconds.

She tried brushing the sticky coating from its body one hand instinctively rubbing at its chest, or at least that’s what she thought.

Then it twitched, failed a little.

And screamed.

She was so taken aback she took a step back, but all at once the picture resolved before her.

It was…. Human mostly, and yes it did have too many limbs but that's because it had an extra set of arms.

The thing on its head was hair, and a lot of it plastered in sticky spikes to its head. The more she looked the clearer the picture became. It continued to scream, and Sunny had to admit that….

It wasn’t very cute.

She felt immediately horrible for thinking that but.

It was nothing like a Drev baby.

Truth be told it was kind of ugly.

Was it supposed to look like that?

She reached into the shower to turn off the water and, not knowing what to do staggered out into the next room where it was almost ice cold compared to the steamy bathroom.

That didn’t seem like a good idea, and she returned to the bathroom to grab a towel in which she wrapped the tiny screaming thing still damp. Waffles followed at her heels as she meandered in a confusion into the next room walking in a circle before she finally figured out what to do. She opened her comm.

“Krill.”

“Yes Sunny, what, is that noise/”

“Uh, you better hurry up here. I need you to tell me if its supposed to look like this.”

As it turns out newborn human babies have all the aesthetic appeal of a corpse worm, so that was at least comforting. Krill was angry she hadn’t called him but she let him be angry. At the very least, there was a piece of Adam in the world that was still alive,

Alive and slightly squished, but alive nonetheless.

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ecoamerica · 22 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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kismetkween · 20 days

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An exchange of control

“I try in vain to be persuaded that control is anything but the intersection of rage and desire.”

Today is an odd one, I went to my dad’s for Easter I did not pressure Ben to go. He had plans to fix his truck and help Chrissy move. The past week Ben and I have been sitting in the wake of the news that I am moving to Ohio. We decided not to divorce quite yet and play it separate. This has been very casual, and everyone is digesting it well.

His GF(ish) is moving into a new apartment and starting over from scratch. He has offered her some of our furniture from the garage storage to give her a head start. Kurt and I continue to work towards a life together we don’t know what that looks like, but we know we want to love and support each other in our quest to be the best versions of ourselves.

Ben and I have been together for 16 years. He has always yelled, and we broke up a lot and our day to day has been touch and go. Highest of highs and lowest of lows. I always thought we were a relationship and we loved each other and were strong and resilient and stayed together for better or worse.

Then there came a time when he yelled at me when I did anything I enjoyed, or when we tried to have a discussion or debate or if I did not respond to something he said properly. I carried guilt for losing interest, but it was not that, I can see that now. It was not wanting to put myself in the way again.

I lost my interest in sex but, … Who can bring them to fuck someone who hates them. I am not trying to be emo hate is the appropriate word.

Anyone, (even your partner) Who finds the places and times you are to be the most vulnerable (in your home) and then chooses to be the most malevolent presence in your life, they are not your friends and they do not like you.

If I am wrong how else am I to tell? Name-calling? check. Knowing the things I hate and doing them anyway? check. Being petty? check.

If I was going to a party and found out this person was going to be there… I would not go. If I found out this person was to be educating my son, I would not allow it. Why do I go home? Why do I allow?

I no longer feel bad.

It does not mean he is a bad person I do feel these things that spark his rage are born in a conflicting place for him. I just don’t want to participate in it anymore.

An example that became relevant today,

A few months ago, (find date) I was working, from home, I was trying to update a game so Sterling and I could play together later.

I asked Sterling to get my controller and start the update. Ben started helping him look, of his own volition, and I suggested moving the couch. To look under and in it.

He said something about the clearance of the couch to the floor and how would it fit under there, I did not understand why I was supposed to know that and why he was upset about me not knowing that.

We fought about it really badly, He called me a fucking idiot in front of my son. We went back and forth a bit longer about it and eventually got quiet. Nate stood between us, and I mumbled, “No wonder I want to fucking kill myself this is what happens when I try to have a good morning.” He piped back up that if I wanted to kill myself it was not his fault, it was because I was a weak person especially if that is all It takes to make me want to die” I called my dad and his mom. I wanted to leave but I didn’t.

Cut forward to today he is hauling around furniture he bought me to give to her. Here is where things confuse me. I have no interest, even at times I have tried to force myself or move parts of me around, they are burned and can no longer connect with him.

I even feel as though I have moved on at a higher level. I have found and loved and lost people more dynamic and more interesting. I am literally in love, and it is the best feeling ever. All he has done is like… fucked another and that does not interest me.

I definitely don’t envy her, or him...

I do, however, find it very very hard to admit I am not worthy of love. I cannot understand how she, a person he barely knows, is worthy of more respect and effort than his wife and the mother of his child. The person who does a lot for him. Who is always there to love him the day after he has fucked up. I have huge issues with these feelings of inadequacy.

He does not treat me as a person he loves or has ever loved.

I have written about this a million other times, but If I ask him to do something, or need his help with anything, it is always a huge fight. The kind with ugly words and screaming not the kind where you finger wag and say “boys will be boys” the kind where you wonder to yourself, who in their right mind wants to fuck a grown man who throws a fit about cleaning up after himself.

But honestly, he is generous and helpful... Just to everyone but me. Free car work for his friends and family, his sister or mother need painting, moving, yardwork? He is on it.

Others, people who only call when they need something, they had him for a whole weekend and he will call me annoying or needy if I called him and ask him when he is going to call him because I want him to spend time with me or his son.

Last week he and I got in to a screaming match where he mocked me and made fun of me and threw my words up in my face. Because he was laid up in bed all week with some girl and wanted me to do all the dishes while I was out of town. I refused.

His own dishes.

This sounds like old sitcom wife stuff but it bothers me on a fundamental level that is “why them and why not me... and if them and not me... why do I?”

But he moved an entire garage full of furniture for her on his only day off, on a holiday he could have been spending with Sterling. She needed it and she deserved it and he should have. It is not a matter of her getting more than me it is me seeing a baseline of his efforts and what he is willing to do for those people and then questioning why I do not qualify for those same efforts.

What is wrong with me and my all and why does it not compare to a common person and their bare minimum? I sometimes am just embarrassed.

Embarrassed that I am still here, embarrassed that I have not done anything effective to stop it. Embarrassed that, I have changed so much of myself to make it work, and given so much of my time to a person who does not want good for me. Who does not want me to succeed.

I think I am mostly embarrassed because it took me so long to realize. There is a part of me that is baffled, as I am not able to function in any other environment when I am humiliated. I don’t know how I am able to keep it together here. I think because I am using all my energy at home I do not have enough to do anything and it is just cyclical.

When it comes to the yelling itself. I have asked for it to stop for the entirety of our relationship and he says he cannot help it but it is a weak excuse.

In the past 16 years, I have seen him get so angry, blood boiling mad at his siblings, friends, and bosses and other people and he has never yelled at them. I have tried to counter this in anyway. I have tried fixing the issues that he is mad about, I have tried talking to him, emailing him calmly, I have tried walking away, shutting down conversations and even try yelling back.

When I consistently used that approach, it was when his niece was here, this was just following I would say, that happiest period we had, the most relationship success we had. I complained a few times to him mom and sister who simply replied “yell back” it seemed just that simple. Maybe I had been overthinking it. Also it seemed to solve the issues I was having with my niece witnessing the yelling. I didn’t want her to think I was just, “taking it” I wanted her to see strength but instead I showed her desperation, being backed in a corner.

Either way the irony came when he sent me an email telling me that if I cannot stop yelling I need to leave his house along with several other threats to my security (not my safety.)

So why does he do it to me if it is unsuccessful, and it is not a method he uses with anyone else? If I ask him I always get confirmation of my greatest fear. The problem is me, my issues, my health, my inability to understand. I am constantly changing. There is no way that every single version of me has been a problem.

I know he is wrong whether he means it or not. He does mean it though. If he is in a good mood later, if he is better and open to discuss it I have begged for apologies that he has told me I do not deserve. I have given him a thousand sorries he has not earned just so he does not have to carry the weight around with him. I donot believe he does not care how I feel, I believe he wants me to feel badly.

I have seen his behavior with Chrissy, He wines and dines her, goes to restaurants he hates, he showers, he cleans the room, cleans the house, he doesn’t disrespect her, he helps her with tasks. He treats her like a person.

He won’t clean up after himself if it helps me, he WANTS me to work around him. He will not even wash the sex of someone else off of him before he crawls into my bed in the middle of the night because he wants me to be uncomfortable.

I want to be treated like a person by everyone but especially a person I have to face at my most private and vulnerable, in my own home. I want all I do for him to be valued and in return I simply want to not be abused.

He could have done these things for me, when I asked him too, long ago. He didn’t because he didn’t want to. He did not want to give me effort. If I say these things need to change or I go, and he does not fix them, he wants me to go.

The amount of time I have stayed where I am unwanted is embarrassing but It took so long for me to realize this is abuse. Halloween really did it for me I have written about it a bit but not always in the mood to reflect on it.

Now that I have a plan to leave though… I cannot put it back in the box. I cannot unsee it as abuse. Even if I am humiliated I need to go back to whatever lobotomized state that allowed me to stay and ignore the obvious.

Because the fear, and humiliation and anger at wasted time makes it so hard to stay. I don’t want to waste another minute. 71 days I keep telling myself. I just can’t pretend enough to make me stay or ruin all my progress. I think that is what scares me the most.

Long story, less long. As he was moving the couch, after all the damage has been done and we both have new partners, when I can never look at him again without seeing every name, he has ever called me, the controller fell out of the couch.

I don’t care about the controller. I bought a new one that day without rage. Knowing things get lost, living in the world in which we have to pivot. Where abuse will not unlose things or unruin relationships, or uncall someone an idiot.

But it has taken me months to realize that he never cared about the controller either. When he found it, He brought it to me, beaming with pride, waiting for me to thank him. Waiting for me to tell the story where he was the hero. He cared not about the controller but control. For so long, he wanted to control me. Not even for what I was offering just so things don’t change for him. I used to be more angry, more willing to fight, sometimes I was the opponent he needed. I would fight my own nature to be what he needed. I think it validated him. I think all his life he has waited for someone to fight for him and not against him. He has trauma too and I acknowledge that but when mine has been an issue, I fix it. I take time off work, I get medication, I talk to therapists, I change things. When I asked him straight forward, are you going to change, and he said he had no interest in changing, I knew there were no longer things here that he can control.

I see the irony, the OCD girly is remarking to others about control, but I am also willing to change to be kinder. To be nicer and I need an environment that supports that.

I don’t know how to say this other than the fact I am wildly dynamic. But I don’t think he is bad, I don’t think he is a bad guy. I think we are like most couples, we did fine for a long time and somewhere along the way we started putting fights off for later and so many unresolved issues came up, and everytime we speak ot think of the other so much hurt and ugly comes out and no one wants to be hurt and ugly all the time. // I know this just seems like a wild rant with no point but the point is, I am releasing my guilt, I carry it no longer. I do have a touch of guilt about introducing Ben and Chrissy, I don’t think it was very “girls’ girl” of me but ... I don’t think he will be cruel to her. I think they can find peace and happiness and I don’t believes he deserves to be alone.

There is so much more to discuss but I hope to be more coherent with my thoughts..

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