#vibranity

[spiraldevs]

Vibrapup —

✶ A gender under the vibranite umbrella that is connected to puppies/being a puppy.

naming: "vibra-" (vibranite), "pup"

for @felidaety's coining prompt, "aesthetics" (vibranite is connected to kidcore/vibrant academia/rainbowcore!)

[flagtism]

boy cheer, guy vibran, & man vividan flags

man/etc & vibranite terms

made by us. for cam. tagging @radiomogai.

[98ae73]

[manaosdeuwu]

necesito que los parlantes del auto suenen más fuerte el volumen máximo no es suficiente máximo

[valejaloittelija]

kävin kaverin puolesta kissavahtina ja kaverin palattua reissusta se pistää viestiä

kaveri: hei jäikö sulta meille laturi? valkoinen laturi ja punainen johto?

mää: no toivottavasti se ei ole mun koska ainoa mun latureista joka vastaa kuvausta kuuluu mun vibralle

kaveri: jaahas

[shubham123blog]

https://nurserylive.com/collections/small-plants-name

[desorden-en-letras]

Normalicemos cerrar ciclos con amigos que ya no vibran en nuestra misma sintonía.

Hazel wings

[candywife333]

You Could Never

Pairing: Jungkook singer x chubby y/n

PART 1 of Places You Never Were

Not edited as usual and should end with part 2. Really poured my heart out in this one, hope you like it!

Triggers: sad feelings, crude words and description, intense unrequited love, heart break

She had loved him in the silent ways. And he had simply let her, as though he was doing her a favor.

He never asked for anything but he always accepted. The hearty home cooked meals , the cheerful messages reminding him to sleep early and take a break when he needed it, the silence when resounding echoes of the world around him got too loud. When he needed an escape. Always there.

Foolish girl. I was always there. Invisible, woven into the tapestry of his life --a single seamless thread overarching the entire narrative. Always there, but never seen.

Too trivial to be seen. To be seen with. In the background of his life like a never ending tune.

Even the way he broke up with me was trivial. Like I held no meaning to him after 5 long years of holding him down. It was a text, after he had left for one of his international tours with the rest of his group.

I never told him about what I saw in the studio that day. I simply bottled it up, the grief and then the rage, rocking myself to sleep in tears -dwelling on things of the past that would haunt me.

That night was when they all hitched a late night flight to America from South Korea. It was 5 AM when I received the text, "Let's take a break Y/N. I know this feels like it came out of nowhere, but come on. You know that we haven't been the same since a while now. It's best for me and you , so we can stay focused on our professional goals".

I read the text, a manic, dry laugh escaping my throat. Like something in me had cracked. Permanently. Focused on professional goals. So that was what he was doing with that dancer in that studio late into the evening. Pursuing professional goals. I see, I guess that's what they called whoring around nowadays.

We both knew whose goals he truly cared about. His. Because, even though I had been transforming his career and his life selflessly, mine had changed very little. I was still under-study to a producer, not even an official one. That's what happens when you take shit. From everyone. Including people at work. I guess my relationship dynamics had translated into my work as well.

Days evolved into weeks.

Weeks of unwashed, crusty dishes and funky smelling, dirty hair. But if I didn't show up for any more days- I would be unemployed. So I went back to work. The producer I worked under, Kang, still forgot my name though I had been working with him for a number of years. Still getting his dry wash, still making his piss water coffee, still organizing messy shelves-fixing his life instead of mine. Still unnoticed.

But the world doesn't wait for you. Even when you are decaying and decomposing inside. The machine of the industry won't ever stop. For anyone. The world wouldn't let me recover, headlines flooded with rumors of his projects, his hook-ups, his relationships, collaborations, him.

The text still reverberated in my ears, as if he had spoke it out loud , "Let's take a break". Five years down the drain. Spilled milk. And maybe that's why they call these things break-ups. Because it literally breaks you from the inside out... corroding parts of you that you tend to take for granted. Trust and optimism in the world gone in the blink of an eye.

Those were the days I wish my love was unrequited. If it had just stayed a pipe dream, at least it wouldn't have broken me like this.

I still didn't know where I went wrong. I still didn't as I went through the motions of my monotonous life. He had been warm to me. Kind and considerate, loving. He had called me his rock, his calm in the storm that was his life. All lies. I should've known that I was just a phase in his life. A passing summer rain. We were too different to work in reality.

His life is noisy and vibrant. He lives in stages and luxury hotel rooms. Rented Villas. He passes through places, nothing ever permanent. I live in the embrace of soft blankets worn out by the passage of time and faded covers of books I have thumbed through the pages of a million times. In an apartment I had stayed in for 6 years now.

My eyes fall on memories--all too painful. I try not to think of them, to not see them. Mementos of times gone by. A backstage pass, a hoodie he left behind, a birthday card signed in his messy loopy signature. The pain never dulls, even though its been a few months since the fall out. He has been jet-setting across the globe for his tour.

And just when I thought it could not hurt anymore than it already did. I saw them at the award show. The dancer and him. Walking hand in hand. The dancer was dressed in a golden shimmery fabric, floating across with floor with her lengthy, frail arm on his buff, tuxedo clad shoulder. My producer had told me to come, a networking event from hell.

I was dressed in black, as most of the junior crew were. A drab black shirt and pants that couldn't cover my hefty frame well enough. As if it wasn't enough to see him with her, his speech poured salt on the raw edges of my wounds. "Thank you to our fans, our team, our families", he drawled smoothly. "And to all the people behind the scenes who have seen all versions of me and still helped me to walk this path and achieve so much when I was lost. You are all part of my journey and I am forever grateful".

I felt like I had been sharply slapped on my cheek. I had been relegated to the supporting cast in his life, the side character, the background. It seemed to me, that's all I ever was. The supporting character in someone else's life. He looked through the crowd, his gaze fixing on me - a flicker of recognition. A momentary lapse in his nonchalant composure.

I look forward at him as though he was immaterial, as though he was invisible. Because to me in that moment that was what he had become. He had erased my existence from his life. And he did so proudly.

I didn't win anything that night.

But I sure as hell was done losing.

________________________________________________________

The studio looked different now that it had nothing to do with him. I had purged all signs of him from the studio. The ones that I could anyway. Gone were the days were I scurried around like a mouse, silent and hesitant to pitch in ideas.

I stayed longer than everyone else. I was building myself. Something I should have done from the beginning. Instead of building up someone else. Learning and absorbing all the skills of the producers and engineers around me. Fine-tuning layered vocals, manipulating sample sounds to fit in with a track. Lacing together vocals with syncopated beats.

I asked. Something I never did before. I let them take a risk on me, trying the controls myself when they offered. I worked on demos on my own and one day when I was busy munching on a veggie sandwich , my boss came in, a wry smile on his face , crooning melodically, "You've got it".

I stared at him confused. Stuttering, "Sss...ir what do you mean"? He went on resolutely as though he had made up his mind, "You got it kid. The gumption and the genius. Drop all the projects you are working on as of today. You will be working for a solo artist, crafting together their title tracks".

I sat there completely mind-blown as he walked away as fluidly as he had come in, just as silently.

I worked on the tracks day and night. The rough work schedule and my disinterest in food making me lose weight and gain skills I never thought I had. I thought I didn't have it in me. But I layered every track, made every decision regarding arrangements- no matter how minute. I could hear a hint of the insertion of one trumpet and the chords of one piano piece and know which part of which track I was in. I was obsessive. It had to be how I envisioned it.

The room was silent the day of the title track recording. "Alright", I said to the awaiting room, all head producers and boss in to hear the recording. "Let's make sure the verses for track 3 are minimal , raw, with low reverb. Pull in the strings, and build the tension . Make sure to make it sharp in terms of enunciation of lyrics because once we break the tension... there will be silence in the track ".

The young soloist frantically noted it down, teaming with fear and wide eyes as I explained how it should progress.

One of the senior producers who wouldn't even have acknowledged me before raised his hand. "Are you certain that such a drop, with silence, wouldn't be too precarious. Don't you think it would lose the interest of listeners"?

This time was not the time I doubted myself. I had slowly stopped doing that as I had crafted these tracks together. "I am sure", I firmly responded. " There are too many ballads-especially pop ballads nowadays with the same over produced noises. Silence occasionally would do the audience some good".

There was a brief overture of silence in the room till another producer sighed.

"Let's give it a go".

In the booth, the artist sang the song over the arrangement, and as i sat in the control room--I felt so joyous. Something I hadn't felt in a while. The tracks with the voice sounded honest...truthful... and so beautiful. I let his voice crack because that brought beauty to some tracks. The rawness with the music arrangements enveloping them, even brought tears to a few producers in the room.

When the artist came out of the booth, he fearfully looked at me, "I am so sorry... for my voice cracking. I promise I will do better. Please let me record them again". He looked at me, like I would take away everything he worked for. But I am not that type of person...I don't take people away from their dreams.

I whispered back to him, "We are keeping the tracks as is. If your voice didn't crack, I would feel like you were singing lies. But you can't lie on these tracks... they have to be honest , even if they are painful. Thanks for lending your voice and bringing them to life".

He smiled back at me, his pink bangs fringing his watery, teary eyes. And you know what, I was not at all close to this guy. But I could feel my eyes tear up too. Some bonds are forged differently. We laughed at each other , leaky eyes meeting as the rest of the producers clapped me on the back, exiting the room.

It was the birth of something new.

______________________________________________

The track dropped 2 months later. No heavy marketing circuit. Just a midnight release and accompanying dance performance done by the artist to certain tracks on music bank and other channels.

It was everywhere by that morning. Flooding the radio, in all stores, in clubs, cafes , playing everywhere--even in a few ads and the central track anticipated to be in one long awaited korean drama which had already included it in its trailer .

The title track dominated the charts with its "charming simplicity" and "devastating lyrics and arrangement". Even the most astringent of critics lauded it as a "heart wrenching series of compositions that mimicked the death of love". Artists used it in edits and sang along to it. Even avid indie lovers who tended to harp on mostly overproduced pop songs spelled it out to be " the sound of scratching your soul on glass shards , melancholy and akin to slowly bleeding to death".

Placed in cursive handwriting below the title, in credits was my first name. Embossed in red script on the bottom of the album. Something for once, in its entirety, belonged to me.

The artist, Jimin, blew up overnight as well. He was a part of Jungkook's group and a lesser known member. He had been struggling til now to make an identity for himself, to distinguish himself as he had what some considered " weaker vocals" and only dance skills to show. But with this album, he ascended into the ranks. Showing up on billboard, even getting international acclaim. Invited to perform at the VMAs.

With my production and lyrics, and his innate talent, he beat out Jungkook's solo for the No. 1 spot on the Korean Hot 100- and stayed there for 4 weeks straight.

His fans argued that it was a fluke, a temporary deviation. Nothing to write home about.

But the talents and the machinery of the industry knew better.

Jungkook may have been spectacular, but he lacked depth. Depth and soul that the newcomer had. Singing that sounded like crying... that resounded in the souls of everyone who heard the artist live. And now the soul had someone's name encrypted into it, one that the industry couldn't afford to pretend away any longer.

Headlines ravaged the press, "Rookie member Dethrones Veteran Soloist in Weekly Chart", "Clash of Members due to Superior Skills ", "The Death and Birth of Pop".

All dramatic titles that reached me. I laughed dryly at the soap opera that was being played out in the headlines.

My life sure was changing quickly. I was being fought over...artists wanted me to direct and produce their albums. I had moved out of my apartment into a cozy house that I had always wanted, since I was a little girl. A homey, spacious cottage with a massive garden filled with fruit and flower trees.

My earnings were sky-rocketing and I bought properties to ensure that in case something happened, I still had the means to stay in my new house (that I now never wanted to leave).

At work I felt like I belonged. The other producers listened to my thoughts and took it seriously. I had my hands in a lot of projects. And it was all working out.

I showed up on my first talk show , a panel named "The Sound of Music". It was an entire show talking about female empowerment through music as a medium. The host of the show asked, "You have been behind the scenes for the longest time. Was your success something you expected"?

I pondered the question for a bit. "No, definitely not. But I built it , thinking that the outcome was inevitable . That there is no way I could possibly fail".

And that is how I continued my work. My newfound stability was reflected in my appearance. I had lost some weight from following a healthy lifestyle and my curves that had at one point made me look frumpy, now looked well-proportioned on my frame. No way would I be a model by any means, but my figure suited my frame. I was feeling more active than ever.

But life can't stay perfect like that now, can it? A headline dominated the frame of the news articles, "Idol involved in DUI, severely injured. Can he survive this"?

I stared at the title in bewilderment. Can he? Did he survive? I guess we'll find out.

[cheritzteam-es]

[MM] Corazones que vibran con la brisa primaveral🌷, Evento de mayo 2025 contigo

Hola, somos Cheritz.

Con la llegada de la primavera estos días, las tardes están llenas de cálido sol 🌞

Y los pétalos de flores bailan suavemente en las calles.

Las redes sociales están llenas de fotos de los paseos de todos,

¡Y notablemente más personas caminan por la calle con helados o bebidas refrescantes en mano! 🍓🍹

Ver estas escenas realmente nos hace sentir que la primavera ha llegado.

¡Así que aquí está nuestro evento de mayo preparado para ti!

En este emocionante día de primavera, ¿con quién te gustaría caminar, coordinator? 💕?

Por favor, ¡consulten el aviso a continuación para más detalles~ 😉

< ① #MM_DíaDePrimavera_TúEresMiPrimavera >

Como la suave brisa primaveral, los sentimientos se acercan - ¿quién es la persona con la que quieres caminar esta primavera?

¡Piensa en ese nombre, el que compartirá este día de primavera contigo!💕

Mientras piensas en esa persona que se asemeja a la primavera, ¡deja un comentario con el hashtag #MM_DíaDePrimavera_TúEresMiPrimavera y la razón por la que elegiste a esa persona!💬✨

Entre los participantes, 15 personas serán seleccionadas mediante sorteo para recibir 50 Relojes de Arena⌛ cada una♥

Período del Evento : 7 de mayo (miércoles) ~ 18 de mayo (domingo) KST

Anuncio de Ganadores : 22 de mayo (jueves) KST

< ② Evento de inicio de sesión en el juego >

¡Durante el período del evento a continuación, inicia sesión en el juego y disfruta con la imagen de título de mayo🎉

¡También hemos preparado recompensas especiales de inicio de sesión que han llegado con la brisa primaveral! 🎁✨

Inicia sesión durante el período del evento para recibir recompensas de inicio de sesión, ¡así que no te lo pierdas y asegúrate de recogerlas todas! 😊🎉

Imagen de Título de Mayo : 8 de mayo (jueves), 2025 ~ 18 de mayo (domingo), 2025 KST

Período de Recompensas de Inicio de Sesión : 10 de mayo (sábado), 2025 ~ 13 de mayo (martes), 2025 KST

Finalmente, durante el período a continuación, habrá un evento de descuento del 20% para [Toalla de Playa de Mystic Messenger] [Set de Fotocards de Mystic Messenger] en Cheritz Market. Si has estado dudando en hacer una compra, coordinator, ¿por qué no aprovechar esta oportunidad? ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌ )

Período de descuento de Cheritz Market : 9 de mayo (viernes) 2 PM ~ 15 de mayo (jueves) 2 PM KST

¡Estas son todas las noticias de mayo que hemos preparado!

En esta temporada de brisas cálidas, esperamos que tu vida diaria esté llena de felicidad

Por favor, crea un día de primavera aún más especial con Mystic Messenger 🌷

Muchas gracias.

De Cheritz.

[brideofmbappe]

Missing My Baby || Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x reader

Raindrops pelted the windows as Kylian stared out, the pitter-patter echoing the rhythm of his racing heart. He had been restless, consumed by thoughts of you. The heated argument still played in his mind, the words exchanged and the raw emotions that had torn you both apart. He missed you terribly; the laughter, the shared moments, the love. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and his regret weighed heavily on him.

He poured himself into football, channeling his emotions onto the field. 

The stadium lights illuminated the pitch, casting an intense glow that mirrored the fire within Kylian. As the opponents charged, he couldn't help but see them as an embodiment of his frustrations.

His movements were fueled by a mix of anger and determination. With each dribble, each pass, and each shot, he unleashed his inner turmoil upon the game. The ball seemed to be an extension of his emotions, driven with a ferocity that only he understood. Scoring felt like a release, a brief moment where the weight on his chest lifted.

But even as he dominated the match, a void remained. In between plays, his mind would drift to thoughts of you. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the soft touch of your hand in his, the countless memories that now seemed distant. The cheers of the crowd were a bittersweet symphony, a reminder of how much he had to prove – not just to them, but to himself as well.

Practice was both a sanctuary and a battleground.

Kylian pushed himself harder, the physical strain helping to momentarily overshadow the emotional pain. Yet, there were moments when he faltered, his concentration slipping as your name echoed in his thoughts. He would catch himself, frustration and sadness clashing within him.

The other players noticed the change, the usually happy Kylian appearing somewhat distant and preoccupied.

Nights were the hardest. Exhausted from training and the game, Kylian would return home, hoping to hear your voice, to share the events of the day as he had done countless times before. He would step into the shower, allowing the water to cascade over him, masking the tears that mingled with it. He would close his eyes and for a fleeting moment, imagine that you were there, that the distance between you had vanished. But reality always came crashing back, a cruel reminder that he was alone.

In those moments, the emptiness felt suffocating. The arguments, the regrets, the echoing silence – they all merged into an overwhelming ache that refused to subside. He would call your name softly, almost expecting you to respond from the next room.

The loneliness would settle in, a heavy weight that seemed impossible to escape. And as the water spiraled down the drain, so did his tears, carrying away some of the pain but never truly washing it all away.

But Kylian wasn't the only one struggling.

You had been grappling with the aftermath of the argument as well. The silence between you was deafening, and the emptiness in your heart was unbearable. Every corner of your life seemed to remind you of Kylian, the joy he had brought, and the love you had shared. Each night was filled with tossing and turning, your thoughts consumed by his absence. His words during the argument had cut deeper than you had ever anticipated. The pain was etched into your every thought, replaying his hurtful phrases over and over again.

You found solace in the little pieces of him that remained. Clinging to his pillow, you would bury your face in it, desperately inhaling the lingering scent that was uniquely his. It was a bittersweet comfort, a connection to a time when you were intertwined in each other's lives. But nothing couldn't fill the void he had left behind, and it certainly couldn't mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

Nights turned into days, and days turned into weeks, but the ache persisted. You moved through life like a ghost, a mere shadow of the vibrant person you once were. The laughter that used to flow so easily now felt like a distant memory. The world had lost its colors; everything seemed to be draped in shades of gray.

Sometimes, in the midst of your loneliness, you swore you could hear his voice. A whisper carried by the wind, a faint echo in an empty room. Your heart would skip a beat, hope sparking briefly before reality crashed down again.

You would find yourself turning around, half-expecting to see him standing there, that familiar grin on his face. But it was always a cruel trick of your imagination.

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you two. But another part of you held back, afraid of being hurt again, afraid that things might never be the same. The battle waged within you, tearing at your insides and leaving you feeling utterly lost.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain had become a constant companion, an unwelcome guest in the house of your heart. You often wondered if life would ever regain its vibrancy, if you would ever find the strength to forgive or move on.

The uncertainty was suffocating, and you clung to the memories of what once was, hoping that someday, the wounds would heal and you would find a way to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart.

On a rainy night, the sky's tears seemed to mirror the emotions in both your hearts. The doorbell rang, interrupting your thoughts. With cautious hope, you opened the door to find Kylian standing there, soaked to the bone but with a determined look in his eyes. In his trembling hands, he held a bouquet of white roses. 

His voice cracked as he began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've missed you so much. I can't stand not talking to you. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what I said. It was all my fault, and I wish I could take it back. I regret it all, every word, every moment we've spent apart. I can't bear to be without you. I've been dying to see you, to hold you, to tell you how much you mean to me." 

Tears mingled with raindrops on his cheeks as he poured out his heart, his emotions laid bare. The sight of Kylian, usually composed and strong, brought a pang of sympathy to your heart. You couldn't stand to see him like this, broken and vulnerable.

"Kylian," you whispered, your voice a mixture of forgiveness and understanding. "I've missed you too." And with those simple words, the dam holding back your emotions cracked, and tears streamed down your face as well. 

Without another word, Kylian pulled you into his arms, his grip strong yet tender. The scent of rain and his cologne filled the air as his embrace melted away the days of distance. The world seemed to fade around you both as he lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. 

His lips met yours in a kiss that spoke volumes - a kiss filled with longing, regret, and a burning desire to make things right. It was a kiss that rekindled the fire that had been smoldering within you both. Slowly, he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb wiped away the remnants of tears from your cheeks. 

"I've been so deprived of your touch ma belle," he admitted, his voice a mixture of husky desire and vulnerability. Without breaking eye contact, he scooped you up in his arms, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he carried you, your heart pounding with a mix of joy and relief. 

As he ascended the stairs, each step brought you closer to a reunion you had both been craving. He set you down on the bed, his hands running over your body as if he were memorizing every inch. You could feel him trembling, his breathing coming out ragged as he looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. 

You reached for his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders, eager to see him again. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt yourself melt under his touch. His lips brushed against yours, his tongue slipping between them. 

You moaned softly, kissing him back, eager for more. His hands slid up your waist, his fingers brushing against your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. Your hands moved to his belt buckle, undoing it with ease, eager to get at his flesh. He stepped back, watching you intently, his eyes dark and hungry. 

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off, but you weren't about to let that happen just yet. You smiled mischievously as you slowly undid his pants, pulling them down to reveal his boxers. 

His cock strained against the fabric, and you couldn't wait to see it again. You ran your hand up the length of his shaft, feeling him throb in response. You gently tugged at his boxers, sliding them down his legs, exposing his cock, already glistening with precum. You looked in his eyes as you took it in your hand, stroking it gently. 

He groaned, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. You kissed his tip, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting him. He gasped, his hands tangling in your hair, pushing you harder against him. You moaned, loving the feel of his cock in your mouth. 

You began to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper, sucking on him like crazy. His hips thrust forward, meeting your motions, urging you to take more. You looked up at him, a smile playing across your face. "Oh yes," you heard him whisper. "That feels so good." You smiled, moving faster, wanting to bring him to climax. 

You felt him tense, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he held you close. You kept going, determined not to stop until he came. You felt him explode in your mouth, his cum filling your throat. You followed Kylian's lead as he guided you towards the bed, both of you eager to finish what he had started. 

He lay you gently onto the soft sheets, and then knelt between your legs. He spread them wide, inviting him into you. He took you with one long stroke, burying himself deep inside you. You threw your head back, arching your body towards him, your muscles tightening around him. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your neck. Your nails dug into his back, marking him. 

Kylian pounded into you hard, making you cry out again and again. He was close, and you knew it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you. "Oh fuck, yes!" you cried, your body convulsing as you came. He groaned, slowing his pace, but never stopping. You clung to him, feeling every inch of him buried inside you. 

You couldn't get enough of him. Finally, he gave one last thrust and collapsed on top of you, his body still shaking. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He kissed your shoulder, breathing deeply. You turned your head and kissed him softly. "I love you so much mon amour," he said breathless. You smiled, stroking his cheek. 

"I love you too kyky."

[waltfrasescazadordepalabras]

Manual para hacer el amor.

‌Por favor, estimula todos y cada uno de sus sentidos, sus oídos con canciones suaves o de preferencia indaga sobre aquellas que sean sus favoritas, ¿cuáles para cantar?, ¿cuáles para escuchar? y ¿cuáles para bailar?. Si corres con suerte quizá habrá algunas que tengan en común, o regálale una, muéstrale otra, una con la que te recuerde aún después de que el amor se haya ido, si tiene la osadía de irse. Los cuerpos vibran, se estremecen, tiemblan y flotan con una buena melodía. Cántale, has que tu voz retumbe por largo tiempo en su cabeza. Léele tus poemas favoritos, escribe algo especial para ella aunque no seas el mejor de los poetas para después decirle "ven, te voy a leer algo que escribí para ti", no sabes qué tan enorme puede ser un detalle tan pequeño; léele un capítulo de tu libro en turno y mándale una nota de voz tan solo deseándole los buenos días o contándole tu día (bendita tecnología).

‌Tócala, acaríciala, di que eres un experto en masajes (cualquiera se vuelve experto en el cuerpo adecuado), toma su mano mientras beben un café, pequeños movimientos circulares con el pulgar en el dorso de su mano siempre serán bienvenidos, quédate en silencio mientras la miras atentamente y acaricias su mejilla para después sonreírle; abrázala, abrázala mucho, mientras caminan, mientras explotan en carcajadas, desliza tu dedo índice por su antebrazo mientras estudia o lee o hace cualquier cosa; sújetala fuerte de la mano al cruzar la calle, toma su cintura en la menor oportunidad, además debes tocarla con los labios, con los dientes (una mordida es buen ejemplo de caricia), entrelaza tus dedos a sus dedos, enreda tus piernas a sus piernas, cubre sus espalda con toda la extensión de tu pecho, haz una mapa estelar completo de las constelaciones de sus lunares y una cartografía a detalle de su cuerpo, con sus valles, son montes y los hermosos ríos como estrías. Decodifica su cuerpo descubriendo sus puntos erógenos y encarecidamente, no te olvides de dibujar, escribir, delinear con la yema de tus dedos o con tu lengua en su piel arte y poesía.

‌Aspírala, haz tuyo el aroma de su cuerpo al despertar, al bailar, al reír, inhala sus palabras. El olfato tiene una excelente memoria. Llena tus pulmones de su aliento. Llévale gardenias, planta en su jardín un jazmín, invítale unos tacos al pastor y observa y disfruta como enloquece cuando aspira. Deja que huela tu cuello perfumado. Seguro ama el olor de un Malbec o una cerveza oscura. Vayan al bosque o al parque a descubrir a que huelen los eucaliptos, los cedros a dejarse seducir por el olor de los oyameles, la delicia de las "huele de noche" y del azhar. También vayan a la playa a aspirar la brisa salada.

Conoce su comida favorita, sus dulces, el sabor de su helado, sus panes predilectos, sus postres, sus carnes, sus frutas, sus pastas, sus sopas, el número de cucharadas de azúcar, su tipo de café, en fin, sus platillos y bebidas predilectas, si puedes cocínale. También has que pruebe tus besos de múltiples sabores, que pruebe tu pecho, que beba de tu boca, de tu sexo, has que el sabor de tu piel ronde por sus labios tal que pase los días mordiéndolos; que devore tu cuello, que bese tu espalda y que tu lengua sea siempre su mejor condimento.

Llena su mirada de bellas artes: teatro, cine, pintura, literatura, escultura, arquitectura,danza. Has que entrecierre los ojos al mirar fuegos artificiales, siéntense en una banca o en una banqueta a observar cómo pasa la vida, a veces el mejor mirador también puede ser una azotea. Sonríe tanto como puedas, has muecas, vuélvete loco, que nunca se aburra de mirarte o de observarte atenta cuando le hablas, cuando le cuentas un chiste o una historia remasterizada; manda un mensaje para que se asome a mirar la luna, deja una nota entre sus libros, que prefiera leer de tu puño y letra una carta a una novela completa, llévala a la biblioteca, a la librería y que se le ilumine el rostro (la de libros usados guardan un gran encanto). Muéstrale museos y tu predilecta obra de arte, deja que vea a través de tus ojos tus lugares favoritos, las películas con las que lloras y queda con ella para mirar una lluvia de estrellas.

‌El amor no s��lo se hace en la cama, con el sexo y las pasiones elevadas, hacer el amor es colarte bajo su piel, tener una habitación en su pecho que solo tú puedes ocupar, es tener la magia para hacerla sonreír y la sutileza para hacerla gemir, quedarte impregnado en sus ojos, ser un eco en su alma, flotar en sus pulmones y que se embriague de tu calma.

‌Y cuando quieras decir que nunca nadie le hará el amor como tú, será porque has sido capaz de tomar su corazón en tus manos, cuando hayas conseguido decirle un "Te quiero" con la mirada, cuando seas capaz de oír las cosas que nunca dice, cuando hayas probado el dolor de sus lágrimas, la felicidades de sus risas y el querer en sus labios, cuando hayas percibido el dulce aroma del deseo y se te revuelvan las tripas y hayas olfateado sus miedos e inseguridades aunque aparente parsimonia y sobre todo cuando hayas masturbado sus ideas, apretujado sus ganas y por fin hayas tocado, acariciado y abrazado su intangible alma.

[flagtism]

vibran

vibranite (general) term

[bluu3berry]

Club night!

-You stumble apon a lonesome sleeping hound, as you approach it immediately woke up. You both stared before you awkwardly left, seeing it go back to sleep as it awoken.

ANYWAYS!! finished price of my drawing plbbth!! Iike how the colors came out, very vibranate :33 I also like rhe pose little out of comfort zone!! I even used references

Don't repost reblogs encouraged

@anon-coke @scramble-eg @superbfirnacho @phishyypawss @the-second-reason

[lapetitemortarts]

Tomba Lacrimata - Roberto Ferri

Roberto Ferri, nacido en 1978 en Taranto, Italia, es un pintor contemporáneo que ha dejado una huella imborrable en el mundo del arte con su estilo neobarroco. Su habilidad para capturar la esencia de la condición humana es inigualable. Profundamente influenciado por Caravaggio, Ferri ha logrado una fusión magistral entre lo clásico y lo moderno, creando obras que vibran con una intensidad emocional sin par. Su vida, aunque mayormente privada, refleja una devoción total al arte, con un enfoque casi obsesivo en alcanzar la perfección técnica y en explorar temas oscuros y apasionados.

..................................

Roberto Ferri, born in 1978 in Taranto, Italy, is a contemporary painter who has left an indelible mark on the art world with his neo-baroque style. His ability to capture the essence of the human condition is unmatched. Deeply influenced by Caravaggio, Ferri has achieved a masterful fusion of the classical and the modern, creating works that vibrate with an unparalleled emotional intensity. His life, though largely private, reflects a total devotion to art, with an almost obsessive focus on achieving technical perfection and exploring dark and passionate themes.

[happilyhadesbound]

The cast of Three Sisters at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse in musical rehearsals!

Via Oliver Vibrans's Instagram (@vibransoliver).

[fairchilds-glasses]

Guilt and Love

Summary:

Lou is left to raise Rachel alone after her mother passes because of a horrible illness. It's difficult to raise a five year old alone, and even more so when you aren't sure you ever cared for them in the first place.

Notes: I will warn that there are a few moments in this fic that might be a bit heavy to read. It's a story that focusing mainly on grief and loss, so there's that to watch out for obviously. There's also some abuse, depressive episodes, and I think one suicidal thought, but nothing too bad. I just want you guys to be prepared and if you were hoping for something really wholesome and happy…sorry 😂

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Under a large bright Hunters Moon, in a small hospital miles and miles away from the place he once considered home, Lou sat in a waiting room, leg bouncing anxiously. He couldn’t be sure if his restlessness was due to the fact that he was missing the first night of deer season, or if it was the fact that after tonight his life was never going to be the same.

He’d been told multiple times that he could go into the delivery room with his wife, but he’d refused. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to hold her hand. He kept considering leaving. His truck was downstairs in the parking lot waiting for him. His crossbow was in the backseat, ready to be used for the hunt. The sky was bright and the woods were filled with prey. Something kept him here. Something had been keeping him here. That curiosity. That nagging voice in the back of his mind that had kept him tightly bound to Elizabeth since their first date. That something that kept him from breaking up with her after that first night. The same something that kept him from letting her live in her car. The something that made him buy a ring. That made him run away with her. The something that brought him to this hospital with her in the first place.

He couldn’t figure out what it was. It wasn’t love? Was it? This couldn’t be love! He was a proud pure blooded esteemed hunter! He couldn’t be in love!

No, it was guilt! Guilt is what kept him stuck in this little hick town when he’d rather be back in DC with his father and friends. He felt guilty that he’d made her think he actually cared about her so he took her on more dates. He felt guilty that he’d gotten her pregnant and shunned by her own parents, so he moved to New Jersey with her. He felt guilty that she was going to have to raise this child on her own, so he’d stayed. Yes, it had to be guilt. There was no love here.

She must’ve felt the same way, because he knew damn well she didn’t love him. Not anymore at least. She might’ve loved him in the beginning, before he’d grown so cold and bitter towards her. She told him the day she revealed that she was pregnant that she’d originally planned on terminating pregnancy. Apparently due to complications the child didn’t have great survival odds as it were, and when her family had found out about the infant they’d kicked her out of her home. It just hadn’t seemed worth it. Yet, when her father scolded her for her recklessness, he’d referred to the unborn child as “that thing” and something in her snapped. It made her angry! It fucking pissed her off! And that was when she’d realized it. She cared so much about how her father addressed the baby because she already loved them. She wanted to keep them.

“Mr. Fairchild?” The nurse asked and he stood on wobbling legs, giving her his full attention. “Would you like to meet your daughter?”

He followed the nurse into the delivery room and before he’d even had the chance to take in the scene, a much shorter nurse was already putting something tiny in his arms and instructing him on how to hold it.

The baby was much smaller than he’d been expecting. Elizabeth looked huge when she was pregnant, how come this tiny bean was all that came out? Were there six more of her or something!? No, just one. One tiny squirming bundle with vibrant red hair that was already starting to curl slightly. Her little hands had been covered with mittens already so she didn’t scratch herself with her nails. She was only a few minutes old and she was already struggling in Lou’s arms, trying grab at stuff and move. She let out a small whimper like noise, and Lou practically melted. Damn it, he didn’t even want this little thing and yet there were tears sliding down the sides of his face. His heart was thudding in his chest and he found himself never wanting to let her go. He was falling in love.

No! No it was not love! It was just guilt! Just more guilt. He felt guilty for the life this little freak was going to live. That’s all the feeling was. Nothing more.

“Is she okay?” Elizabeth was asking in a weak voice, “She’s still okay?”

“She’s…” Lou swallowed, glossy eyes staring down at the little creature nuzzling closer to him. “She’s perfect.” 

If only perfect could’ve lasted forever…

 ***

“It’s not looking good I’m afraid.” The doctor explained, running a hand down his sour face. “She’s been fighting hard, but I think she’s reached the end.”

Lou just nodded, staring out into nothing, arms wrapped around himself. Why did this damn hospital always feel so cold?

 Elizabeth was only diagnosed with Chronic Withering Disease eighteen months ago, but it felt like it had been years. Having to not only be constantly available every time doctors called, check in with her every single day and bring her anything she requested that was within his limits, was wearing him down fast. He constantly had dark bags under his eyes and her hair was disheveled. He looked as sick as she did at this point.

No. That was a lie. She didn’t even look sick anymore. She looked dead. Lying in the hospital bed, emaciated and frail. Cloudy eyes and dry, thin hair. Lou didn’t need a doctor to tell him she wasn’t going to make it much longer, he could tell from looking at her.

The worst part was that while she was in the hospital, they’d actually grown much closer than they ever had before. He’d come sit with her everyday and just talk. About life, about work, about everything. He found that she was a much better friend than she was a wife. She was a great listener, and extremely understanding. Hell she even asked him about his fucking love life! She knew he’d want to move on once she passed, and a few times she’d ask him how he felt about the nurses in the building. She was mostly joking, but there were hints of truth in her teasing.

Of course now that he’d actually grown to care about the bitch she was leaving him.

It was good, right? I mean, obviously death was never good, but it was an easy ticket out! He could go back to his old life! He could reconnect with his family and friends and go home to DC! Act like the past four and a half years never happened!

Wrong. He couldn’t do any of that, because he was still stuck with Rachel.

The annoying little thorn in his side. The little red head had been so precious and adorable at first, but now she was nothing but a pain. She was much closer to Elizabeth than she’d ever been with Lou. Once she’d grown enough that she no longer had to be rested on Lou’s chest to sleep, she suddenly acted as if she was afraid of her father! She never wanted to be around him! She stared at him with fear filled blue eyes and dropped to the floor, covering her head, whenever Lou so much as looked at her the wrong way.

“Sir… I know you’ve been holding off on bringing your daughter to say her goodbyes, and trust me I don’t blame you. But… If you were planning on letting her see her mother one last time, you might not have a lot of time to do so.” The doctor continued, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at the thick glass window separating them from Elizabeth’s bed. He’d been told before that he could bring Rachel to see her so long as the door to her room remained sealed and they only interacted with each other through the safety of the glass since Elizabeth was so frail that a single wrong move could cause her bones to snap. They’d done several blood tests on the child after her mother’s diagnosis just to be certain that she didn’t have the extremely fatal genetic disease along with her.

He had yet to bring his daughter to see her. As much as he and Rachel didn’t get along, he feared for her getting sick. No, he’d not wanted Rachel in the beginning. On some level he still didn’t want her! Still, he wouldn’t wish this illness upon anybody, especially not a child! Aside from fearing that Rachel would somehow catch the disease through the glass despite it not even being contagious, he also feared how the child would react to seeing her mother in such a sorry state.

Ever since she’d been taken away, Elizabeth had asked about Rachel every single day. She understood why she hadn’t been to allowed see her, but she still wanted to know if she was alright. She asked about her schooling, about her health. She wanted stories of her, and photographs. She wanted to know her baby was okay. And Rachel wasn’t much different. She begged for her mother every day. Asked where she was, when she was coming home, why she left. Lou had raised his voice several times, the constant repeat of questions growing old. Still, Rachel didn’t let up. She’d gotten in trouble a lot at school for her behavior. She’d been acting out so badly that her teacher couldn't do anything with her. She’d even talked about having her removed from her class! It seemed the longer she spent away from her mother, the more aggressive she became! If Elizabeth died and Rachel never got to see her again, she’d never truly grasp what happened to her. She’d never understand why she disappeared. She’d never come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t coming back. She’d just continue to grow more and more aggressive until Lou couldn’t do anything with her.

As scary as it was, he knew it was time. He had to bring Rachel to say goodbye.

***

“Remember what I told you, Curls.” Lou breathed as they stepped into the hospital side by side, holding tightly to Rachel’s hand. He nodded at the receptionist as they went past the front desk. She knew him well by now.

“Be on my best behavior.” Rachel squeaked out in a tiny voice, tensing slightly as she took in the scenery. Even a child, unable to grasp the concept of pain and death, seemed to understand the sad and eerie atmosphere.

“That’s right.” He nodded, “And why do we have to be on our best behavior?”

“Because mommy is sick.” Rachel swallowed.

“Right.” The elevator dinged and they stepped inside.. He pressed the button to take them to their floor without even looking. He took a deep breath inward. “Now, I already told you once, kid, but I’m gonna say it again. Your mom is going to be in her own room, and we can’t go in, okay?”

Rachel was staring up at him, listening harder than she’d ever listened to anything in her little life. Absorbing every word.

“We have to stay on our side of the window, and she has to stay on her side.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s really sick plus she’s very tired and you might accidentally hurt her”

“Like with the chickens pots?”

“Chicken Pox.” He corrected, “And no. It’s a little worse than chicken pox.”

The elevator dinged again, the doors opening and letting them out into the quietest floor in the entire hospital. They walked through the silent hallways, feeling like the only people on earth, before finally coming to a desk with a single nurse sitting behind it, looking tiredly over a computer screen.

“Morning Nancy.” Lou nodded.

“Morning Nancy!” Rachel repeated, nodding her head to mimic her father.

The half-asleep nurse stood from the swivel chair and looked over the counter, peering down at Rachel. Her tired eyes lit up upon seeing her and she gave her a kind half smile.

“You must be Rachel.” She sighed, “Your mother has told us all so much about you.”

“You know my mom?” She asked, standing straighter, “Have you been to her room? Did you get the chickens pots?”

“Rachel.” Lou growled under his breath and the child flinched, her legs bending as if she was about to drop to the ground but she managed to stop herself.

“No, sweetie. I didn’t get chicken pox. I’m one of the nurses that takes care of your mom. Are you here to see her today?”

She nodded, a small smile creeping over her face.

“Okay. Well I’m sure your dad has already told you, but I’m gonna tell you too. You can’t go in your momma’s room with her, you have to stay on the other side of the window.”

“Right.” She nodded.

“And your mom is really sick, honey. So she’s going to look different than when you last saw her, okay?”

She nodded again. Her smile disappeared and she searched the ground before looking back up at the nurse with a nervous expression. “When will I be able to go to her room?” She asked. “When will she come home?”

The nurse walked around the desk, getting down on her knees in front of Rachel and taking both of her little hands into her own, running her thumb over the back of them as she took a deep breath.

“Listen sweetie, your momma’s body isn’t working like it’s supposed to anymore, okay?” She explained softly, “One day, it’s going to stop working. Her heart won’t beat, and she won’t breathe. She won’t be able to see or hear or feel anymore.”

Lou watched Rachel’s eyes widen, scanning the nurse's face, taking it all in.

“Wh…When will it start working again?”

“It won’t, baby. We won’t have her around anymore. At least not like you used to. You will always have her in your heart, but she won’t be able to be with you anymore.”

Lou had been dreading that conversation. He’d tried multiple items to explain what was going to happen to his daughter, but he couldn’t find the words. He’d expressed this to nurse Nancy before, and he was glad she seemed to have been prepared to help him.

“Death isn’t like a trip. She’s not going to come back, but she will always love you, okay honey?” Nancy asked, giving her hands a small squeeze.

She was quiet. Too quiet. Lou couldn’t tell if she was understanding what she was saying to her or not.

“Dead like the heads and antlers on the walls?” She breathed quietly, eyes cast down at the tile floor.

“Oh…” Nancy swallowed, glancing up at Lou. she hadn’t been prepared for this kind of a response. She hadn’t realized that Rachel, the five year old, already had at least a little experience with death. “Well…”

“Sort of, kid.” He interrupted, clearing his throat.

Nancy took the hint and stood up, dusting off her knees. She’d done enough parenting his child for one day.

“Well then, if you follow me I’ll show you your mom, okay?”

Rachel nodded quietly before following behind the nurse, Lou bringing up the rear.

The air felt heavier as they marched onwards, closer and closer to the large glass window at the end of the hall.

“Mom?” Rachel asked, perking up slightly. From her short height, she could make out a vague shape lying on the bed by the glass. The nurses had moved Elizabeth’s bed up against the window to make interacting with others easier. This way they could stop and speak to her without going into the room and then having disturb her from her rest every single time they had a question for her.

Nancy put the thin mask over her face and gave Rachel a small nod before she went into the room, switching on the light inside.

“She went in! Is she gonna get the chickens pots- er- the chicken pox?” Rachel asked, tugging on his pants leg worriedly. Lou ignored her, instead watching as Nancy very carefully woke his wife from her slumber.

Her milky white clouded eyes struggled to focus on anything, and when she sat up her body shook weakly. Her eyelids were drooping, and even without being on her side of the glass, he could practically feel how exhausted she was. He wished he could help her. Not because he loved her or anything, but because he felt guilty. Guilty that she was having to suffer through this illness while he was out here, perfectly healthy. On some level, he wished he could switch places with her. If one of them had to die, it should’ve been him. He’d been the one making all those stupid fucking mistakes. He should be the one in the hospital, and she should be the one staying alive and raising Rachel.

Thanks to the speaker mounted on the glass, they could hear the goings on inside Elizabeth’s room, and she’d be able to hear them once her mind had caught up with her body and started functioning enough to understand what was happening anyway.

“Mrs. Fairchild, I believe there’s someone here to see you.” Nancy smiled, pointing out at Rachel through the glass.

He watched his wife slowly piece together the nurses words, understanding what she was saying. She turned slowly and looked down at the red haired child… But something was wrong. She wasn’t smiling down at her. She wasn’t pressing hands against the glass. She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t acting like someone who’d been stuck in a hospital for eighteen months finally being reunited with their child! In fact she was acting like-

“Where?” Elizabeth’s hoarse voice quivered, vacant eyes scanning the ground all around where Rachel was. She couldn’t see her. As bright as her hair was, she couldn’t see it!

Lou could practically hear the little girl’s heart shattering in her chest as Rachel got closer, standing on the tips of her toes and pressing her hands against the cold glass.

“I’m right here, mommy!” She called out. Elizabeth didn’t even twitch at the noise, it was like she hadn’t heard her at all.

“Look.” Nancy encouraged, moving closer and pressing her palm against the glass near Rachel’s, “It’s your daughter. It’s Rachel!”

Elizabeth stayed in place for a moment longer before slowly turning back to the nurse, eyes narrowed weakly. “Who’s Rachel?”

“Mommy!” Rachel’s voice broke, she balled her tiny fists and hit the glass once before Lou got down on one knee, carefully but forcefully snatching the back of her shirt and pulling her backwards before she could hit the window a second time. “Mommy I’m right here! Can’t you see me!?”

“Rachel, sweetie, take it easy!” Lou swallowed, trying to make his voice calm and gentle like Nancy’s had been.

“Why can’t she see me!?” The child sobbed, trying to get closer again. Lou wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her back while she struggled to escape. Desperately trying to get closer. “Why can’t she see me, I’m right here!”

“Sh-she has bad days sometimes.” Lou tried to explain. He didn’t have a good way to put it into words. “She forgets me sometimes too, kid it’s not that she-”

“She forgot me!?” She interrupted, tears cascading down her face. “No! No, mommy don’t forget me! Please see me!”

“Rachel.” Lou shushed, noticing how Elizabeth’s eyes were starting to dart around. Trying to filter through the strange crying sounds coming from absolutely nothing.

He felt Rachel’s stomach move under his arm. Her chest shook as something primal deep within her threatened to rise up.

“No, Rachel. Don’t-”

Before he’d been able to finish his sentence, the child was wailing. A desperate attempt to get her mother’s attention. Elizabeth stiffened and her dull eyes widened, but she still didn’t seem to comprehend what was going on. They were stressing her out! He threw a hand over Rachel’s mouth and the little girl started shaking her head, kicking her feet, and scratching at Lou’s arms in a desperate attempt to escape, tears heavily flowing down her face the entire time.

Lou scooped her up, holding her back to his chest, keeping her mouth covered. He had to lean backwards to keep the little girl’s flailing legs from kicking him, and no matter what he tried, he couldn’t calm her down.

“I’m going to take her home, Nancy!” He called to the nurse over the commotion. “We’ll try again tomorrow!”

“Mmm!” Rachel cried out, voice muffled by her father’s hand “Nnmm!”

“Rachel, we’ll try again tomorrow.” Lou growled through gritted teeth, backing away from the glass, towing the still fighting child with him.

The tight hold Lou had on his daughter finally loosened once they were out of earshot of his wife's room, and Rachel didn’t hesitate to shake his hand away from her mouth. “Mom!” She screamed, voice broken up and scratchy. Large salty tears and snot covered her face, and she kept kicking her legs, trying to force Lou to drop her. “Mommy! Mommy I’m here! I’m here please see me!”

“Rachel, you have got to calm down!” Lou begged through his teeth as he hauled the energetic ball of sobs through the halls of the hospital, drawing the attention of everyone they passed.

“NO!” Rachel screamed. One of her kicks managed to make contact with Lou’s ribs and the man had to stop walking momentarily, the force knocking the wind from his lungs momentarily. “No! I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

“I already told you, your mom is having a bad day!” Lou growled, heart thudding in his chest. “We will try to visit her again tomorrow, don’t you understand!?” 

“No!”

Finally they made it out of the hospital! Finally away from all the prying judgmental eyes. Everyone staring at them. Judging him. Wondering why on earth he couldn’t get control of his own damn child!

They made it to Lou’s truck and he threw open the back door, practically tossing Rachel down into the seat next to her booster. The hair on the back of his neck raised and he bared his teeth. Snarling down at the child, seeing nothing but red.

“Listen to me you little shit!” He shouted, causing Rachel to flinch and begin to curl in on herself, lying down flat in the seat, body shaking as she desperately tried to contain her sobs. “I already told you. Your mother is having a bad day! I am sorry that she couldn’t remember you, but I can’t help it! You’re going to start listening to me when I tell you to calm down, do you understand?”

“I-I want my my mommy!” Rachel sobbed, looking up at him with large glassy eyes. “I just want my mommy!”

“I know!” Lou snapped, “I fucking know! You already said that! Crying about it won’t fix it, okay! You’re just making things harder!”

“I-I-I’m sorry!”

“You’d better be sorry!” He huffed, taking a step backwards. “Now we’re going home. If I hear one more peep out of you I… I…” He searched the girl’s shivering body for something, anything, he could use as a leverage before remembering something the child had mentioned earlier “I’ll mount your head on the wall, do you understand!?” He finished, clenching his fists.

That seemed to do the trick, because Rachel’s eyes had gone wide, and her trembling grew worse. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She stayed in place, watching her father carefully. Shaking like a leaf.

“Good.”

That evening, Rachel was quiet. She sniffled every so often, never quite getting over her crying spell from the hospital. She messed over her food, refusing to eat anything, but this was normal. She’d been doing that since her mother had gotten sick. Lou knew it was because she was used to eating balanced meals. Lots of fruits and veggies and meat in moderation. Now she was being served by a hunter who could barely cook for himself. Steaks, burgers, chicken or more often than not venison, he found it easier to cook whatever his latest kill was. At first Lou wondered if he was doing something wrong, but he’d just tell himself it was fine. The girl was probably supposed to have more meat in her diet anyway. All those evenings she’d been spending lying around complaining about an upset stomach was completely unrelated. She’d be fine.

They were going to be fine.

It was late that night. Rachel was asleep, curled up in her bed, squeaking out in her sleep the way she often did when she was having a bad dream. Elizabeth would often hear her from across the house and she never thought twice about crawling into her bed beside her, holding her close. Her heart beating beside her seemed to chase the darkness away, similar to the way Lou had been the only one able to soothe her to sleep as an infant. He could never bring himself to even attempt to comfort her that way now. He wasn’t cut out for parenting and he knew it.

He was standing out on the front porch, smoking a cigarette in the crisp fall night. Listening to the sounds of the leaves rustling in the trees above them. His phone began to ring in his pocket, and he took a sharp breath inwards. He knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew.

Lou answered without evening looking down at the screen, his breath visible in the cold. Tears were already starting to form in his eyes.

Elizabeth was dead.

***

“Rachel, listen. You remember how that nice nurse the other day told you that your mom’s body would stop working soon? Well, it stopped. Your mother is dead, Rach.

No, we can’t go see her. She’s gone, and she can’t come back.

Because that’s just how life is, Rachel!

I know I told you we’d go see her again, but we can’t!”

He sat on the couch with his head in his hands, leg bouncing anxiously the way it had the night Rachel had been born. The kid hadn’t understood any part of this process, and he didn’t know how to help her. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. Elizabeth hadn’t passed. She was just pulling a horrible horrible prank on him. Just getting back at him for all the years he’d been so mean to her.

The funeral had gone just as bad as he’d imagined it would. Only a handful of people actually came. None of her family, only a handful of coworkers. Her former boss had stayed the longest, seemingly offering more support to Rachel than Lou, which was fine. Lou hardly even knew the man, he most certainly didn’t need his sympathy. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy! It wasn’t like he’d ever loved her! It wasn’t tears of a broken heart, it was just guilt.

Of course, she’d been cremated so there was no body. Nothing for Lou to physically show Rachel. Nothing to do to force the little girl to understand. She was there. She wore the black clothes. She stood in the line. She listened to the priest jibber jabber while people in attendance who barely knew Elizabeth swiped away at fake tears, pretending to care more than they did just so her small and pathetic little memorial service would feel real.

Rachel had been given a week out of school, but they’d told Lou that when she came back they were transferring her to a different class. That stupid teacher had finally had enough of her. Lou bit at his tongue, holding back his words. He wanted to tell her that he could see right through her. He wanted to tell her she was being a bitch. He knew damn well she was only having her transferred to another class because she didn’t want to have to deal with a grieving five year old. He couldn’t say he blamed her. He didn’t want to deal with it either, but he was stuck with the little freak! Unlike her, he couldn’t just pawn Rachel off onto whoever this new teacher was. He wished he could.

Later that night after Lou had decided to go to bed he twitched at a sudden scraping noise coming from down the hall. He listened for a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he stood, making his way towards Rachel’s room.

“Hey!” He barked, opening the door to find his five year old standing on her bed, using her plastic toy tools to scrape at the wall by the window.

The child jumped at his voice, dropping down onto the mattress and grabbing her hair, body starting to shake.

“Kid what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He raised an eyebrow.

I… I needed to let momma inside.” Rachel squeaked, and Lou’s breath hitched for a moment.

“You… What?”

“I… I heard momma.” She shivered, “Sh-she was outside. I need to let her in.”

Lou’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at the window, the markings on the walls, and the unmade bed sheets.

“Rachel, you were dreaming. Your mom’s not outside.” He sighed.

“But- But I heard her!” Rachel whimpered.

Lou swallowed back tears, a shiver running down his spine. He wished it were true. He wished she were standing outside. He wished he could open the window and let her inside. Deep down he knew it couldn’t be real. It was a dream and that was that.

“You were dreaming, kid. Stop scratching up my walls.”

Rachel didn’t stop scratching the walls. As the days passed, she kept waking up from delusional dreams and frantically trying to tear an opening into their home. There were tiny markings all over the walls and floors at the little girl’s level. It was growing old. No matter how many times Lou tried to convince her that it wasn’t real, she just couldn’t get it through her head.

It was two in the morning when Lou had finally had enough.

He’d been awoken by the all too familiar sound of plastic against wood. Rachel was up again. At the front door by the sounds of it. This had gone on too long. This was far enough.

He bared his teeth and climbed out of his warm bed, slinking through the cold house. The icy floor freezing under his feet and causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin under his shirt.

“Rachel!” He snapped, turning the corner into the living room.

Again, Rachel dropped, hands covering her head and grabbing at her curly red hair.

“What the fuck are you doing, kid!?” He snarled, eyes narrowing.

“I… Mom needs to-”

“Rachel, your mother is dead!” Lou interrupted, ignoring the glossy eyed stare the child was giving him in the dark.

“But… But she said she was-”

“You are dreaming! Do you fucking hear me!? You’re dreaming! Your mother is dead and nothing we do is going to fix that!”

Tears were starting to leak down the sides of the five year old’s face now, her little chest moving up and down rapidly. “Sh-she’s outside! She’s j-just lost!” She sobbed.

“No!” Lou stomped closer, snatching the little girl by the collar of her pajama shirt and lifting her up to eye level. “Rachel enough is enough! You have got to stop this! Your mom is not coming back, okay!?”

“Sh-she-”

“She’s not coming back!” He growled, teeth bared.

Rachel was crying too hard for her words to be comprehensive anymore. Little nails scraping across Lou’s arms as she struggled to free herself, wanting to be put back down.

“She was ju-just holding me!” She finally choked out in heavy sobs, “Sh-she was in my room! She said she had to go but she-”

“Stop!” Lou shouted so loud that she had to cover her little ears, face scrunching up. “Stop talking like this, Rachel! You were dreaming!”

Rachel hung in his arms, crying, biting her own fingers in an attempt to stop herself, hardly able to breathe through the tears threatening to drown her.

“Say it.” Lou snarled, eyes narrowing. “Say you were dreaming!”

“I-I-I was-was dre-dreaming!” Rachel coughed.

“Say it again.”

“I wa-as dreaming!”

“Louder!”

“I was dreaming!”

They stayed there silently. Lou kept his eyes glued to the child struggling in his hold before eventually releasing his hold on Rachel’s shirt, letting her fall unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor.

He stared down at her for a moment. A puddle of tears and sobs on the ground. He felt nothing but cold. He turned and went back to his room, leaving the child behind.

If only that stupid woman had taken better care of herself. If only Lou hadn’t gone out hunting quite as much. If only if only if only.

He wished he’d never gotten so defensive when his fathers hunting friends challenged him. He wished he’d never agreed to their rules. He wished he’d never taken Elizabeth on that first date, or any of those dates. He wished he’d never stayed in her van longer that night. He wished he’d looked away from those big brown eyes. He wished they hadn’t had such a strong hold on him.

He wished he’d never fallen in love with her.

He shook himself off. No. He wasn’t in love with her! He’d never been in love with her! He’d… He thought about her smile, her laugh. Her beautiful eyes, her sweet voice. He thought about the way her hand felt intertwined with his. He felt about the way she laid her head on his shoulder when they sat next to each other on the couch. He thought about how she slept with her arm wrapped around him. Her hugs, her jokes, her heartbeat.

He loved her. He fucking loved her. He’d loved her the whole fucking time.

Oh God, he’d been in love. He’d been in love with her! He’d loved her enough to go on a second date. He’d loved her enough to go on a third! He loved her enough to have sex with her that night. Enough to agree to help her raise the child. Enough to run away with her! Buy a home! Start a life! Raise a fucking baby! He’d loved her.

And now she was gone.

She was gone forever.

He barely registered the things going on in the house that morning. He’d thought of nothing but Elizabeth’s face all night. He could hear dishes in the kitchen. He could hear the clatter of things moving throughout the house. He heard the clicking of little shoes on the hardwood floor, and saw the shoes stop in front of him. He looked up, making eye contact with Rachel, dressed and ready for school with her backpack on her shoulders.

“A-are you going to t-take me to school?” She squeaked nervously. Lou sat silently staring at him for a moment, processing. God why did she have to look so much like her. She had her face. She had her curly hair. Her nose, her smile. Why the fuck did she have to look like her!? He wished he didn’t have to look at that face all the time.

“D-dad?”

 He shook himself off.

“School.” He swallowed. “Yes. School.”

He didn’t want to take Rachel to school. He didn’t want to do anything. He wanted to lay in bed and die. What was he supposed to do with his life now? What was the point?

 He blinked and suddenly they were in the drop off line in Rachel’s kindergarten. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Rachel in her carseat, gripping the seatbelt tightly with a horrified expression on her face, body shivering. He couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d gotten here. Had he driven the car out here?

When it was their turn, a short woman opened the back door, letting Rachel jump out of the car onto the sidewalk. She gave the woman a hug, which seemed to shock her for a moment, before she bolted into the school without even saying goodbye. Lou was driving away before the woman had even gotten the door closed all the way.

Another blink and he was standing in the shower, staring down at nothing. Letting the water wash over him.

Why had he been so fucking mean to her? Why had he yelled at her? Fought with her? Why had he thrown things? He hit her! He fucking hit her! Dammit he’d been hitting Rachel too. Dammit he was fucking everything up. Why did he keep fucking everything up? Why hadn’t he realized he loved her.

Suddenly the water was freezing. How long had he been in the shower!? He stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself, picking up his phone. Oh shit! It’s nearly nine o’clock in the evening. He was supposed to go pick up Rachel hours ago! He frantically pulled up the phone number of the school and dialed, but nothing happened. When was the last time he’d paid the phone bill?

He shook his head and rushed into his room to get dressed. Somewhere between getting dressed and leaving to get Rachel, he’d gotten lost and ended up sitting on the bedroom floor, staring down at his hands as tears dripped down his face, his chest aching. He fucking loved that woman. He loved her even though he didn’t want to. He loved her and he’d never told her.

 Light stretched across the floor and hit him in the eyes. How long had his eyes been closed? What time was it now? He picked up his phone again, but it was dead. What was he doing? What was he supposed to be doing? He got up and finished getting dressed, walking into the living room. He took in the scratches and markings on the floors and walls. Rachel. Where was Rachel?

 As he was trying to figure out what had happened to Rachel, he got distracted by the couch. He’d sat with Elizabeth on this couch so many times. He sat in what used to be her favorite spot, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Why was this her favorite spot? Was it because the other spot belonged to him? Which one of them had picked their favorite spot first?

What was he doing again? Rachel! Where the fuck was Rachel!? He went towards the child’s room, looking inside. Rachel hadn’t been here for a few days by the looks of it. So, where was she?

He twitched at the sound of a car pulling into the front yard. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes before going to stand on the front porch. He watched as a blond woman with a kind face got out of the car. Trailing behind her as she walked towards the house, was a very tired and very scared looking Rachel.

He leaned against the support beam of the porch. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“That depends.” The woman swallowed, “Are you Lou?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Jolly, I live near the school, I don’t think we’ve ever officially met. I tried to call you after school yesterday when you missed pickup time.”

Shit, he’d completely forgotten! He knew he’d been forgetting something.

“Ah, shit. Yeah, the car was outta gas.” He lied, unsure how to explain what had actually happened.

“That’s your excuse?” The woman asked, hands on her hips. “And you couldn’t call the school or-” She stopped, letting out a frustrated sigh, “You know what, I have a lot I’d like to say to you, but I’m not going to right now. Not in front of Rachel…” She trailed off, turning to look behind her where the little girl had dropped onto the ground. “Rachel?”

“She does that a lot.” Lou nodded once, watching as the woman walked over and went to try and make the frightened child stand again. “Her mother said it was a phase, but I hope she outgrows it soon. It’s really annoying.”

The blond woman cut him a look. “So… Your car was outta gas. Was your phone out of gas too?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lou bit his tongue. What was this bitch’s problem!? She had no idea what was going on in his head. He didn’t even know what the fuck was going on in his head right now!? It had only been a few months since Elizabeth died, and the last thing he wanted was for this woman to come into his yard and start shit! She needed to just hand over the fucking kid and leave already!

“Funny. No, smartass.” He growled, “I can’t get down to pay the bill without a car now, can I?”

“Hey, here’s a suggestion.” Said the woman who’d somehow managed to get Rachel into her arms. She was clinging to her like a monkey in a tree, head pressed into her shoulder and body visibly trembling. She was terrified. Lou had done that. “Since you’re having trouble with your car, and I go to the school every day with my own daughter anyway, why don’t we just let her stay with me for the rest of the school week? I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

Lou swallowed, looking back down at Rachel’s shivering form in the woman’s arms. Clearly he wasn’t in the right headspace to look after the kid right now. He hadn’t even remembered to pick her up for the past two days for fucks sake! As horrible as it sounded, maybe this lady was right. He couldn’t let them know how scared he was for himself though. He had to play it off like he was fine. He couldn’t let them know he was struggling. Couldn’t let them know he’d ever fallen in love with his wife. Couldn’t let them see that he was grieving.

“Well, I don’t see why not.” He shrugged, “It’d give me a break from the little gremlin. Sure, you wanna come in and pack a bag?”

This was good. He just needed a few days to get ahold of himself. He couldn’t let anyone know what he was going through, that he ever cared for his wife. He’d be fine. Everything was going to be fine.

…

 End (for now)

—————————————————————————

“Oh he realised what he was doing was wrong so that means he’s gonna change right?” *LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER* Nope! If anyone thought that you have too much faith in him.

​This is what happens when I let the angst parasites win.

So there we go! This was a sort of more in depth look at Lou in a way, going into how he thinks and views these situations.

I may write more stuff like this in the future mainly just because the thought of little Rachel is too cute to not write more about 😂.

Obviously if you want more info on anything mentioned feel free to message or comment or whatever or you can look at the little info posts I’ve posted in the past, just click on either Lou or Elizabeth’s tag and you’ll find them quickly lol.

Tags cause omg Sophie actually wrote something and finished it for once: @barclaysangel @nicascurls @morganandtheemorgana @sigyn-foxyposts @sayitwithsizzle @squidsharky if anyone else wants to be tagged in anything I write in future lmk