#photo is from my hike today

[jinglebunns]

3 of them 🌸🍒🍒

[sebs-studies]

[saaski]

my husband took these photos of me today and I couldn't be happier with them omg 😭

descriptive text: a white woman with long brown hair, wearing a pink flower crown, dark green dress, and tiny acorn necklace, smiling against a background of green trees

[graveyardrabbit]

hello today I found the Best Fridge Magnet That Ever Was

[softlypause]

Paths to the sea

[abby-howard]

Some folks were asking for my boiled peanuts recipe (as they feature in our game, Scarlet Hollow, and we made a big batch this past weekend), but it's unfortunately a bit difficult for me to post with lightness in my heart right now because this past weekend the entirety of western North Carolina, where Scarlet Hollow takes place, was devastated by hurricane Helene.

Towns I have been to and have fond memories of have been described as "washed away." The region is almost entirely still out of power, the water is all contaminated with repair efforts expected to take weeks, and there are hundreds of people stranded, including my relatives, as roads have been totally destroyed. My uncle sent a photo of the road near his house, thankfully his home is okay but I have to image it's going to take a while for roads like this to see repairs:

I know this photo has been making the rounds, but it bears posting for those who haven't seen it-- the main strip of Chimney Rock, before and after:

Trees, cars, buildings, everything is gone. And now all that debris is just sitting in lakes and rivers. This is Lake Lure today:

Pictures from Swannanoa, an absolutely lovely town with so much character, where my sister went to folk music camp as a teen, where mobile home parks were hit hardest-- people's houses just floated away downriver:

And of course Asheville is the town most people will have heard of. A city of 95k, completely isolated in the days after the storm. The River Arts District was still underwater as of yesterday:

People throughout the entire region are without power and transport and fuel and water and food, they've lost their homes and their businesses, and people have had to resort to hiking to reach loved ones to see if they're safe or whether their homes were just wiped off the face of the earth-- hundreds are still missing because it's been so difficult to get in contact with people in these isolated, rural communities that are now nearly impossible to get to because roads were washed away or collapsed in landslides.

I honestly don't even know where to start when it comes to relief funds or ways that people can help. I've been listening to the local radio station and it sounds like the area is in shock, people are coming in to help pick up the pieces but there is so much recovery that will have to happen that it's hard to know where to start.

This article from the Citizen Times has a list of places that are currently helping with relief efforts.

It's absolutely unfathomable that a hurricane could hit the mountains. The effects of this are going to be felt in western NC for a long time, and my heart goes out to everyone who is currently stranded or trying to get in touch with people who are.

[theonottsbxtch]

Secret Sister | OP81

in which lando has a secret sister and oscar falls hard and fast

oscar piastri x norris!reader

fc: sophia birlem

a/n: lol hello this is my first ever smau, everyone say thank you rianna. hope you enjoy this and if you have any requests lmk!

landonorris:

liked by ynnorris, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 1376 more

happy 21st birthday to this gremlin, ig being your big brother is fun or whatever @/ynnorris

*tap to load comments*

userone: i’m sorry i beg your pardon what

usertwo: someone say sike rn

maxfewtrell: lando you’re going to break the internet with this post

userthree: a bit too late

userfour: YOU KNEW?!

ynnorris: guys i’ve been held captive for 21 years. dobby is free!

yourbestfriend: how long have you been waiting to say that?

ynnorris: 3 years

userfive: how did lando manage to pull this off for so long?!

oscarpiastri: you have a sister??

maxverstappen1: lando what?

usersix: it’s the way lando just hardlaunched that he had a sister for me 😭

alex_albon: I KNEW IT

georgerussell63 : i’m so sorry i never believed you

alex_albon: i was onto him back in 2019, you guys just thought i was delusional😞

userseven: moral of the story, always trust alex

ynnorris

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 47 others

hello world. twenty first and graduation? now you guys know who the smartest norris is xx

*tap to load comments*

landonorris: you’re public for one day and you already start publicly bullying me wtf

userone: oh i like her already

usertwo: sorry did i just see she graduated in computer science? from edinburgh? we love an educated queen

yourbestfriend: world’s hottest programmer

ynnorris: get it on a top

yourbestfriend: yes ma’am

userthree: why did she have to wait until her 21st to post? i’m so confused 😭

userfour: maybe lando didnt want her to be in the limelight and now that she’s an adult she’s in control of it?

userthree: oh that makes sense

ynnorris: he just didn’t want people to know that his sister is 100x cooler than him

userfive: yn pls 😭😭😭

oscarpiastri: hello

ynnorris: hello

landonorris: not happening

usersix: oh no poor lando 😭

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris i refuse to believe she’s real, tell her to come to monaco with a birth certificate

imessage

twitter

instagram - ynnorris

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and 973 others

just arrived to monaco and lan’s ditched me for max, give me recs x

*tap to load comments*

userone: i love that she thinks we’re rich enough to ever be in monaco

usertwo: the waterfront!

yourbestfriend: what happened to “we’ll go together”?

ynnorris: you chose your girlfriend over me 😁

yourbestfriend: she is quite literally graduating today

ynnorris: then don’t complain x

userthree: that’s a few too many suitcases no?

oscarpiastri: the vaundé bakery or the hiking trail

ynnorris: noted 🫡

userfour: something is going to happen between them two i’m calling it now

instagram dms

ynnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 2734 others

i guess i understand why lando left gloomy london for this

*tap for more comments*

userone: where are the insta detectives, is that the bakery oscar recommended

usertwo: it is!

userthree: is that oscar?

oscarpiastri: no

userthree: oh no he’s experiencing his first heartbreak

landonorris: lol

userfour: foul

userfive: she’s living the dream

yourbestfriend: i miss u

ynnorris: come here, lando said i could invite anyone

landonorris: i did not.

ynnorris: do you want mum and dad to find out what happened to the clutch of their old fiesta?

landonorris: @/yourbestfriend what i meant to say is you’re more than welcome

usersix: she’s so effortlessly funny

imessage

ynnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxfewtrell and 7610 others

monaco over and out, see you soon 😉

*tap to load comments*

userone: is that oscar??

usertwo: god she is so pretty

userthree: i know oscar’s back when i see it

oscarpiastri: photo credits? 🙄

userfour: i knew it!

ynnorris: the photos are mediocre at best

oscarpiastri: take them down then, copyright 😤

ynnorris: big baby 😤

userfive: wait they’re so cute

maxfewtrell: oh yn

yourbestfriend: he’s going to kill you

landonorris: is that my balcony?

landonorris: answer the phone yn

ynnorris: no x

[cokou]

What OP Men Post About you on Reddit PT2

OP 男性があなたについて Reddit に投稿するもの。

𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒄

sum. Your boyfriend posted about you on reddit. 𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑫𝑰𝑻 PT1 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. Fluff & Crack! Slight nsfw on shanks part😭 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. Im using my free time to upload my works, i hope its okay to have late uploads😭😭 // Do not translate or transfer any of my works, this is my only account (exp. AO3) will not be cross posted anywhere else. // Masterlist♥

r/AITA Swrdsmn.Zoro ⬆︎ 11.7k ⬇︎ 309

Am I the asshole for refusing to take my girlfriends map route?

My girlfriend loves to take me on a different of adventures throughout the world, her main favorites were taking simple walks that would eventually end up at the other side of the city. She drags me along with her always even if i had told her multiple times that it's too early to go for a walk. My girl, sets her alarm at 3am and wakes me up to go outside and walk with her.

About a week ago, she broke the news to ME, that she booked us a hiking trip. Me being myself, i usually laze around the house and get some sleep, so hiking isn't definitely my thing. But either way she bought us 2 hiking tickets up a snowy mountain.

When we had 4 days prior before setting out for hiking, she immediately drew a map from the place we were going. I admit that she is definitely good at drawing maps, but i studied them and absolutely got confused. I gave up on doing so.

We arrived to our destination and she immediately grabbed her map out of the bag, she tried pulling me to the right side of the mountain but there was a map hanging by the wall of the cabin shop saying that the left side is where the mountain hiking is located. I talked to her about it and she told me that the map they made is probably fake.

We got into a small argument and i parted ways with her towards the left side and i fot lost, I was reported as missing and a group of search party was launched to get me back, Now I'm back with my girlfriend's hold and she's mad at me for not taking her word. We talked to the cabin shop for the map route and found out that there was no such thing as a cabin back on the mountain.

Comments:

Chef_Sanji: yta, obvi your gf deserves someone better. ➣Swrdsmn.Zoro replied: I wasn't asking you ➣Chef_Sanji replied: Obviously you were, you posted this so you're asking everyone. (COMMENT WARNING)

—

r/meat Straw_Luffy ⬆︎ 12.7k ⬇︎ 103

My girlfriend cooked me this today :D !

I'm absolutely thinking that she's better than @chef_sanji! Her cooking is so yummy i could eat all of this in just one bite🤤 THANK YOU SO MUCH @Your.Name !!

Comments:

Chef_Sanjii: IT LOOKS SO GOOD, GIVE ME SOME TOO YN-CHAN❤️❤️ ➣Straw_Luffy replied: No way it's mine! ➣Chef_Sanjii replied: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU ➣Your.Name replied to Chef_Sanjii: I will when we meet again! :D (Liked by Chef_Sanjii)

—

r/wifey ItsmeShanks ⬆︎ 47k ⬇︎ 1.7k

—Attach photo of you

All night, all day, with clothes, naked, doggy style, missionary, full nelson, in public, in private, in bed, on the sofa, with toys, vanilla, piv, anal, boob job, hand job, fingering, masturbation, in the ship, on the floor, top to bottom, on sea, on land, on my face, on your tits, helicopter style, pegging, on camera, in front of everyone, in an alleyway, in the shower, standing up, sitting, laying down, bent over, no stopping, finishing inside, finishing outside.

@Your.Name

Comments:

Your.Name: WHAT THE FUCK SHANKS (Liked by ItsmeShanks)

—

r/girlfriends Com.Acee ⬆︎ 113k ⬇︎ 12.3k

My girlfriend is so beautiful, she absolutely deserves the world.

Literally shes the best, I don't know what i even did to desrve her presence besides me, but im sos so thankful for it. Everyday i wake up next to her it feels like im blessed eith yet another peaceful and loving day knowing that everything is complete with her by my side.

She smells so good that it stays on my sense of smell, the way her fragrance litter her room and immediately smells like her once i enter is so peaceful and sweet. I absolutely love her perfume, i bought one of them to keep on my room and i spray tiny bits of it on me whenever she's not with me now.

I seldom carry her little gifts in my small bag whenever im away from her to remind me of her presence, her perfume never leave my hands. My shelves are filled to the brim with her godly scented perfumes, her perfume is wuite expensive yet it doesn't matter. Her little girts are kept in a glass covered shelf to ensure protection and will never be broken.

I love gifting her her favorite items and seeing the cutest smiles on her face, i really really wish to spend my eternity with her forever. @Your.Name i love you so much😭😭

Comments:

Your.Name: THIS IS SO CUTE AHHH ➣Com.Acee replied: ILYYYY❤️❤️ (Liked by Your.Name)

—

r/Girlfriends MetalPipeLover_Sabo ⬆︎ 46.1k ⬇︎ 429

I need advice on where to take my girl on a date! D:

Any recommendations for places that's suitable for a date? I'm planning to propose to my dear girlfriend, we've been together for a solid 6 years and a half. We've talked about getting married and i think today is the day i propose to her. I can't think of any place thats perfect enough to do so.

Anything that would have a good view or maybe a little cute cat cafe beside it would be fine, I'm thinking of a little elegant theme..or maybe a little cute one? I really cant decide, i contacted my brothera but they couldn't take a single thing serious. Please actually take me seriously😭

My girl isn't that picky, but i myself think that what ever crosses my mind is simply not enough and that she deserves much better than what im thinking of, but of course i still need to atleast make the proposal romantic right?? 😭😭 Please give me recommendations, im absolutely desperate...

Comments:

Com.Acee: The grand canyon idk🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ ➣MetalPipeLover_Sabo replied: ACE GET OFF MY COMMENT SECTION😞😞😞 Straw_Luffy: Take her where there's meat! :D ➣MetalPipeLover_Sabo replied: No that's not good enough. Unknown: A flower field maybe lol? (Liked by MetalPipeLover_Sabo)

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

[josephquinnswhore]

hiking - joel miller x female reader

summary: as a family, you go on a hike with your daughter.

word count: 1k

content warning: joel wanting to have another baby omlll, NO smut. Fluff!! Dad joel.

a/n: the second photo (of the waterfall) is my own. Do not edit or repost without permission!!!! Took this today while on a hike hehe.

The burning ache in your calves serve as a reminder to you that you’re not the woman you once were. Activities like this, hiking, walking along a perfectly cured tar track was more of an effort than it had ever been. You’d grown a bit slack in your usual adventures, ones that are demanding now; were so simple back then.

Now, there’s the ache in your back that hasn’t left since you’d entered your third trimester years ago, it’s a constant reminder of why you haven’t had a second child after Sarah.

An ache constricts in your chest, pneumonia wracks your lungs, burning and causing strain on your breathing. You carry a small bag on your back, a few water bottles and some snacks for Sarah, not to mention your asthma puffer. Joel had insisted, in case you’d collapse, he was more worried than your mother most days.

He didn’t want you out of the house, his face almost turning white when you’d brought up the idea of going hiking like this, for the first time since Sarah had been born, nonetheless. She was almost three now. He’d been keeping a close eye on you, turning back to make sure you’re okay. Offering that subtle smile, supportive.

The tar track is slippery, bright green moss has grown in between the cracks of the concrete, making it slippery. You’re conscious of it now, making a mental note to watch your step.

“Nearly there darlin’, you’re doin’ great.” Joel praised softly as he stopped, turning back to wait for you, where you linger a few paces back, keeping a mindful eye on Sarah to make sure she didn’t wonder off track. Joel had her though, he did. He was always aware, always scanning for anything that could or might be a threat or hazard to his little girl.

“C’here baby girl. Hold daddies hand.” He’d murmur for the tenth time, his giant hand contorts around her own, and Sarah giggles.

The sight warms your heart, swelling with pride and adoration. This was your family, your husband. You’d picked the right man, you’d known it since you met him.

“Come on mommy!” Sarah fleets with joy and excitement. It’s enough for you to push through the burn on each inhale.

“I’m gonna get ya baby!” You put your hands up, mocking a monster, roaring as you take big stomps towards her as she tries to drag Joel along to run.

“Run daddy, run! Mommy’s a scary monster!” Joel plays along, gasping dramatically as he lets Sarah lead him up the path.

The sound of water is thunderous and distracting, too loud for Sarah to keep up her charade of playing monsters. She tilts her head. “What’s that noise?”

“That’s the waterfall, baby, what we came to see.” Joel explains, pointing to the huge waterfall. It’s hundreds of meters deep, the water is brown, rushing through the rocks down into the pool of stagnant water below, where the water begins to foam. A small family of ducks occupy the water.

Sarah squeals in joy as she sees a peek of the waterfall from her height, the trees obscure her view. “I wanna see! I wanna see more daddy!”

“Just a few more steps baby, then we can get a real good look.” Joel encourages with a big toothy smile, turning to you, ensuring you get the hint that the encouragement was meant for you too.

The lookout is stunning, fenced all around, and safe. You remember the view, from before you fell pregnant. It hadn’t changed a bit. The rain sprinkles down onto you, and Sarah rushes up to see the waterfall.

“Wow. Water!” She exclaims, trying to show Joel. “Look daddy, a bird!”

It’s clear she was in awe of how many animals she’d seen, pointing out every duck, bird and bug she could see.

Lifting Sarah up against your chest, you give her a better view, clear of the obstruction of the fence. One her little body couldn’t yet compromise. “Ain’t that pretty?” You murmur softly to her, pressing a small kiss to her cheek.

“Turn around darlin’.” Joel calls softly, getting your attention, you turn around and Joel’s getting his new phone out. An iPhone he was still learning to use for work.

He fumbled for a second before snapping a family photo of all of you. “We’re gonna have to find room on the wall for this,” he hums.

“Show me that,” you scold lightly, and you grimace once you see the photo. Your cheeks are red and you look sick. You are sick—but that’s besides the point.

Joel knows you’re about to protest, to whinge or huff. “You look beautiful. This is us remaking memories with out little girl. Maybe good enough to have another?” He pries softly.

He’s been bugging you for another baby. You almost give in.

“My backs already killing me,” a simple reminder and he makes a noise of resignation. “But I didn’t say no,” you murmur. The thought of a second baby was on your mind too.

His brown eyes twinkle with hope. He’d have to bring this up later at home.

The rain trickles down a little harder, and Sarah starts to get a little unsettled. It’s cold and wet and the wind is picking up. “Come on baby, let’s walk back to the car.” You offer your hand out for her to hold, and Sarah shakes her head, tears welling up in her brown eyes.

“No! Cuddle!” She demands, holding her arms up for you to pick up her.

“I can’t baby, you know mommy can’t carry you all the way back,” you explain softly.

Joel steps in. He won’t allow you to pick Sarah up while you’re sick, or while your back hurts.

“Daddy will put you up on his shoulders, how’s that sound baby?” Sarah looks up at him and nods, her cheeks and nose are turning red.

He swings her up, and she sits on his shoulders, she clings onto the curls on top his head. Your fingers fumble to find your phone in your jumper pocket, snapping an image, unbeknownst to Joel.

“You gonna make it back?” Joel asked, concern abrupt in his tone.

“I’ll be okay.” You reassure softly. “Let’s get going.”

Maybe—you would do this more often from now on.

[trophybutchpics]

the tumblr safe photos from today 🤭 he/they/it/she

tip me 💸 sub to see what i got up to on my hike

[terrible-eel]

I may be too stressed to articulate this clearly but I am going to try.

While Hawai'i and Maui are trending I'm going to share this link. Its a FAQ about Hawai'i's statehood and the situation Hawai'i is in at the moment. There are people who want to be part of the U.S in Hawai'i and there are people who don't, but the people of Hawai'i were never, at any point, given an option to choose.

If you want to help Hawai'i and it's people but can't donate, spread this word. Help educate people. Make Hawai'i as the tropical paradise be replaced with the sovereign nation stolen by the u.s.

It is subtropical, meaning it is much more vulnerable to arid climates caused by climate change.

It has been systematically stripped of its native food harvesting practices and any ability to farm and self sustain. It has been systematically stripped of its previous industries. Maui used to export milk and cattle. That's all been taken away.

The islands since the 1800s were exploited as plantations, burning sugar cane and growing pineapples which are not native, diverting the water and depleting the water table.

Lahaina burned because of these practices. Because the native people were no longer allowed to govern their lands.

We as local people know that tourism is bad because this systematic destruction has happened in living memory. Within my grandparent's lifetimes, within my lifetime. I have watched this island crumble at the hands of mainland startups, hoping to take people on whale watching tours that cut the whales with their boats while people aren't allowed to have a ferry between islands. People create ziplines and tours through lands that used to belong to local people for farming and cattle. Now they're bought out for photos and hikes the local people can never afford. Hundreds of jobs have been lost in the past thirty years. Mass migrations to the mainland have been made by local people, myself included because we can no longer afford to stay on the island where we were born. Working three jobs is not enough to cover the rent because the houses are bought up by mainland people who then turn these houses into vacation rentals and charge hundreds a night. Right now these very homes are being paid for by the government so that Lahaina people have somewhere to stay and it's costing the state millions that people in the mainland are reeping.

People ask why tourism is bad. Because there are people alive today on Maui that have watched the foreign industries destroy everything. Because people alive today know what used to be and knew how to take care of the ecosystem so that this kind of calamity didn't happen. Lahaina was not just fertile. They had canals and waterways. Rivers that they would drive boats through to go from one part of town to another. It was more like Venice than this desert you see in pictures.

And do your own research. The information is out there. There are two Hawai'i's. The one you see as a tourist, and the REAL one. The one we need to protect.

Let Hawaiians have their land back. Let them restore the water to the land so we can prevent further catastrophe. Tell people about REAL Hawaii.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

I'll Be Home for Christmas - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Some Crying and Slight Angst; No Physical Descriptions of Reader; Reader is a Teacher; Use of "You" but No Y/N

Summary: Bob promised you that he would be home for Christmas.

Master List

Dating a naval aviator wasn’t easy. Bob's schedule was erratic and never usually worked in their favor. He could be in one place one day and a completely different continent the next or out in the middle of the ocean. And it wasn’t easy to communicate with him when he was deployed. Emails and letters were about all you could usually manage. 

For Bob, you would do it all over again to keep him in your life. But that didn’t make the holiday season any easier. 

Bob, along with the other Daggers, had been deployed for the last six months. Somewhere in the Pacific, that was all that you knew. He told you that they would be docking today and so you waited outside the school where you worked, anxiously waiting for his call. The call about whether or not he would be home in time for Christmas or not. 

Fiddling with the necklace that he bought you for your one year anniversary nearly three years ago now, you sucked in a breath when your phone started to ring. The photo of you and Bob on the hike you took on his birthday last year.

“Bobby?” you called softly, answering the call. 

“Hi, honey,” he returned, his voice sounding clearer than it usually did on these types of calls. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you,” you replied, smiling bashfully. “What about you?”

“Exhausted.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Pretty late.”

“Well, thanks for staying up to talk to me,” you stated, a bit concerned about Bob. He was uncharacteristically short with his sentences. “How’s Phoenix and the boys?” 

“We’re all good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you get the care package that I sent you?” you asked softly, fiddling with your necklace.

“Oh, yeah, I did, Honey. Thank you for sending it.” 

“Did you send a video over to Leslie? She was putting a movie together for the kids.” 

“Yeah, I did, Honey. She’s got it.” 

“Thank you for doing that. The kids will really appreciate it.” After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, you asked, “Are you okay, Bobby?”

“I’m fine,” Bob replied, his voice cracking a bit. 

“Bobby.”

“Honey, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I'm not sure that I’ll make it home in time for Christmas,” Bob revealed, causing your heart to shatter in your chest. 

“It’s okay, Bobby. It’s not your fault. There’s always other holidays.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on coming home safely. Whenever that is.”

“I will. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I really miss you,” you replied, your voice breaking at the end. 

“I really miss you too. And I’m so sorry, Honey.”

“Stop apologizing, Bobby. Just come home safe and that’s good enough for me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, Honey.”

“Bye, Bobby.”

Hanging up the phone, you sniffled and wiped your tears away. You let out a steadying breath, trying to calm yourself down, before grabbing your bags and heading inside the elementary school where you worked. 

It was the last day of school before Christmas Break and so, it was your class’s Christmas party. You got to school early to set up, but now you might need to use the time to gather yourself. Opening the cabinet, you smiled sadly at the photos of Bobby that you put up. Hanging up your coat, you wiped your tears away and quickly moved to start setting up. 

~~~~~

Meanwhile, just a few miles away from your school, Bob was holding his head in his hands, looking like he was going to be sick. The other Daggers were gathered around him, all having returned home just a short while earlier. 

“He’s this beat up about it?” Hangman sighed, leaning on the car. “All he did was a little lie.”

“It’s a wonder that you’re still single,” Phoenix replied dryly, shooting him a look. 

“I made her cry,” Bob whispered out quietly as Fanboy patted his back. 

“She’ll get through it, Bob. And you only had to lie to her for a couple hours,” Fanboy reasoned, motioning for the other Daggers to speak up. 

“She’ll forget all about it once she sees you,” Phoenix replied, looping her arm under Bob’s and pulling him to his feet. “Now,  come on, we’ve got some shit to do before the big reveal.”

~~~~~

“One, two, three, eyes on me!” you called, clapping on the numbers and then pointing at yourself. When you saw that all of the kids were looking at you, you added, “Alright, do you guys remember when we made those care boxes? For the service men and women?” 

Various kids shouted out that they did remember, causing you to nod and smile. Since you worked in a Navy town, many of the kids in your class had parents or other family members in the Navy. The care packages had been a personal project that you decided to bring to your class, since you knew that a lot of the kids would be in a similar position as you—wishing that someone that they loved so much came home for Christmas. 

“Alright, well, Ms. Sullivan put together a video of them opening the boxes that we put together. So, if everyone could sit in their seats quietly, we’ll start the movie.”

You dimmed the lights before the video started up and slowly sat in your seat, waiting for Bob’s video to pop up. Kids in your class would yell out when they saw their family member, which made your heart both swell and break at the same time. The video continued on until Bob’s familiar face appeared on the screen. 

“Hi, everyone,” he called, waving to your class. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!” one of your kiddos yelled out. 

“Yeah, it’s Mr. Bob,” you mumbled sadly before you paused, frowning slightly as you examined the video more closely. “Is that the cafeteria?”

“What?” Ms. Sullivan asked, trying to hide her smile. 

“That’s the cafeteria,” you stated, getting to your feet. 

Walking up to the screen, you scrutinized the image of your boyfriend as he pulled out the items from the box, including ones that you definitely didn’t put there. Confused, you turned to Ms. Sullivan when the door opened and the lights turned back on. 

Looking at the door, you spotted Bob standing there in his flight suit, beaming at you with such a loving smile that your knees wobbled. Choking out a sob, you sprinted over to your boyfriend, causing your kiddos to scream and cheer. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy as he pulled you to his chest. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!”

“He came from the video!”

“What are you doing here?” you cried, fisting the back of his flight suit. “I thought that you couldn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I lied. Can you forgive me?” Bob asked, rocking you back and forth. 

“Of course, I forgive you,” you choked out as Bob wiped your tears away. You snuck a chaste kiss before straightening up. “I love you so much, Bobby.”

“I love you too, Honey. And I’m really relieved that you forgave me because otherwise this would be really awkward.”

“What are you . . .”

You held a hand to your mouth as Bob slowly got down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, causing your kiddos screams to reach new heights. Bob opened the box and you swore you almost fell to your knees. He looked at you with those big blueberry blue eyes, which were filled with so much love and devotion.

“Will you marry me, Honey?”

“Say ‘yes’!”

“You have to say ‘yes’!”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Bobby,” you replied softly.

He stood up and you pulled him in for another chaste kiss that promised more when there weren’t thirty-five six-year-olds staring at you. He slid the ring onto your finger, where it would stay forever. Turning to your kiddos, you laughed and tried to wipe your tears away as they raced towards you guys. Bob squatted down again, accepting high fives and a few hugs, which only made you fall more in love with him. 

As if that was even possible. 

School was released shortly afterwards and after cleaning up the Christmas decorations and Bob hauling stuff out, the two of you walked out to your car. The Daggers told you that everyone would celebrate your engagement tomorrow, but tonight, it was just you and Bobby. 

“I told you that I’d be home for Christmas,” Bob replied, opening your door for you. 

“You did,” you agreed, pressing a less appropriate kiss to his lips. “And I think that the only time you’ve ever successfully lied to me.”

“And the last,” Bob promised, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Merry Christmas, Honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Weightless | On Call

summary: your curtains are closed, truck silent on the drive. today of all days, you shouldn't be alone.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. loooots of angst. active grieving for a dead parent. a very soft frankie. vibes are better in the next chapter lmao.

wc: 2.1k

an: my grandad was a man who loved flowers. today marks seven years since we lost him. he was gentle and kind and so talented.

have some forget me nots, which are in my garden and now also in your hands. for @morallyinept's flora and fauna challenge. for anyone you may also miss <3

When the time came Just like you are He was weightless In my arms

- weightless, elbow

series masterlist | main masterlist

Your house is quiet.

Quiet like Frankie has never heard. 

There’s always some kind of noise. A record turning, the hum of your voice. The TV on, windows open to birdsong. But today, there is nothing. 

His legs are heavy. Heart heavy, fingers shaking, wrapped around the bag of groceries he’s brought. He’s taken two steps in through your front door, and now he doesn’t know what to do. 

He watches the dust motes swim in the sun of your hallway. Shifts on his feet to look through into the living room. You must be upstairs, but to call your name in the silence of the morning feels like too much. Invasive. Cruel. 

Instead, he swallows and takes the remaining strides into your kitchen. Breathes in the fresh smell of your plants, the familiarity of your spice rack in the corner, the spread of miscellaneous stuff that he’s rarely seen tidied away. He gently places the bag of groceries on the counter before opening your cupboards for a vase. 

Once he finds one, he fills it with water and trims the stems. Forget-me-nots and white carnations. Something simple. Remembrance and love. Bright and pretty. No lilies. They only remind you of the funeral.

He’s biding his time. Trying to tamp down the nerves swirling in his gut, the somersault of his heart in his chest. He knows from the gaps left in his own life that today will be hard. And he wants to make it easier for you. He just hasn't worked out how.

He knows what works for him. The long hikes, the pull of a bottle. In murkier times, many years ago now, the sharp taste of powdered gums. Knows what works for the boys. The days with drawn curtains, video games played in the gloom. Tequila and memories shared across barbeques. Even his parents - honorary pastel de choclo, flicking through photo albums. But for you, he’s not sure. 

Once he’s happy with the way the flowers are arranged, he takes off his shoes. He leaves his cap on the counter, and pads up the stairs.

It’s still quiet. You’re not in the bathroom. No reason for you to be in any other of the rooms. He holds his breath and raises his knuckles against the wood of your bedroom door.

He knocks, softly - once. Waits for an answer that doesn’t come, but pushes it open anyway.

‘Bug?’ He says gently into the morning sunlight.

You’re swaddled in bed, still in your pyjamas, eyes red and swollen. You sit up slightly with a watery smile as he edges in, managing a crackled hey, Fish.

A sharp lump rises in Frankie’s throat. Something about seeing you upset has always hurt; the same kind of ache he gets in his chest when Lucia or his mum cries. His eyes flick from yours to your bedside table, to the picture of your father settled on top of it. Frozen in time, his smile is wide - just like yours. Greying hair, a little more chin fat than he would have had as a younger man. A younger you tucked into his side, his arm slung over your shoulders. Your arms around his middle, squeezing, laughing. Fuck.

Frankie’s heart shoots out the bottom of his legs and skids across the floor. He looks you over, and your chin wobbles. Too much. Too vulnerable. The smile drops, your face cracks. Your mouth clamps shut with a snap of teeth, and a fresh wave of tears begins to pour down your cheeks.

Frankie feels his own expression crumble, and he’s at your side before he can even think for his feet to take him there. Perched on your mattress, arms around your shoulders to pull you close. Shushing like the gentle in and out of waves, lips pressed to your hot forehead. 

You’re tense, so tense. Breath coming in choked hiccups, shoulders up to your ears. Hands gripping the sheets. There’s another pull in Frankie’s chest.

‘Stop trying not to cry,’ he murmurs, ‘I can feel it.’

You release a ragged breath, a heartbroken cry as you cling to his sleeves. Like you're being ripped apart. Like you're being drowned.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp, ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Frankie shifts you further across the bed so he can fit next to you, shaking his head. 

‘Don’t be sorry. Why should you be sorry?’

‘You don’t have to be here,’ you choke, ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to stay.’

Frankie closes his eyes. Leaving you here is the furthest thing from his mind, a notion that wouldn’t even cross it.

‘I want to.’ He says.

You nod, curled tight to him. He can feel dampness seeping through his hoodie, and he sits back against the headboard, cradling you to his chest. His heart is beating so fast. You can hear it, the conch of your ear pressed to the cage of his ribs. You try to focus on it, try to think of nothing else. Try not to think of this day four years ago. The weightless feel of your father in your arms in the last minutes of his life. How you held him when he could hold you no longer.

‘What do you need, baby?’ Frankie asks.

The streams of tears, the bow of your brow, serve to split his heart in two.

‘I don’t know.’ You whisper.

So Frankie holds you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Unwittingly, he’s answered the question for you. For the last four years, you have needed to be held like this. Needed to be held together by someone who is not yourself, someone who can shoulder the weight of the grief you have carried alone for years, just for a moment. 

You lose yourself to it. To the warmth, the smell, the comfort. You let the flood come, you let Frankie rock you. You ask him how Luc is, and he understands the need to hear about life outside this room. So he tells you about her arts and crafts, her newfound dislike of mac and cheese, what she wants for her birthday. The daisy chains she's been making, the sweetpeas they're growing in their garden. And it’s wonderful. It reminds you of the good of the world, that it keeps spinning, that there is love out there even when it feels lost to you. 

If there is something out there other than life, you hope your dad is in it. On a deck chair with a beer on the beach, a little basket of fries delivered to him every so often. He’s smiling, laughing. You hope he’s still around, because the idea that he’s not is too big, too great to face. It’s too lonely. Too terrifying to be alone in this world, no anchor, no tether, a family with their backs to you after you’d told them who you loved, too far in the distance to turn back to you with outstretched palms. An ex-fiancée who simply didn’t love you enough.

But he’s here, you feel. Here in this moment, watching from somewhere above. Mixed with the fabric of now like clothes in a washing machine. A spiral of colour and feeling. Pink, purple, blue, green. Love, joy, heartbreak, loss.

Orange. Orange and white is what Frankie can see. The warmth of the sunlight, the pale of your sheets. You’re far away but safe in his arms. He wants you there always. Wants to be wherever you need him.

He thinks of this day in his own life, four years ago. The tiny, warm body of his baby in his arms. Weightless as you are now and yet so heavy, the two of them fighting sleep in a nursery elsewhere in Florida. He can still smell her hair, still hear the way she’d babble, the way she still fit tucked into one arm. He swallows, hard. Holds you tighter still, thumbs rubbing your shoulder, your side. There is so much of his daughter’s life to see. He can’t imagine having it cut short. Can’t imagine knowing it would end soon, counting down the days as his body wasted. The milestones he’d miss, the moments and memories. The stories and people she’d introduce him to. It doesn’t bear thinking about, her out in the wide world without him to guide or protect her. And he knows you’d hate it, but he’s sorry. So sorry that that’s the life you have, that you don’t have him to turn to anymore. And he’s sorry for your dad. For him to have missed who you are now, to miss who you will be. 

He presses another kiss to your head, hoping to convey this. This nebulous thought, this strange feeling.

‘He wrote letters for me,’ you whisper into his neck. So quietly, voice strained to breaking as you force the words out. ‘For birthdays. For jobs. For my first home. For my wedding. For a first child.’ You try to smile, but it’s flattened with a broken breath. ‘He thought of everything. And I read them again today - the ones I’m up to - but it’s like - it’s like his voice -’ you cut yourself off, burying your face in your hands as you try to calm down. ‘Sometimes it’s like I can’t hear him properly anymore.’ 

Frankie strokes the back of your hand, and it drops easily. He holds it in clammy palms.

In the cold days after your dad passed, through numb dissonance you had googled everything to do with grief. The stages, the remedies, the processes. What you forget first.

Voice. There would be a day, before anything else, when you wouldn’t be able to remember how your name sounded spoken by his lips. When you couldn’t remember the texture of I love you spoken in his tongue.

Frankie knows this. He googled it after Colombia, when the weight of every body he’d seen or carried seemed to settle on him. It had comforted him. He didn’t want to remember shouts and screams, couldn’t stomach the memory of Tom’s orders rattling through his brain. But he feels so desperate to take this from you, to retract and hide what you know. So useless in the face of so much hurt, so much loss. Even when he knows the best he can do is sit here in it with you. 

You press your free fingertips into your eyes. 

‘I’m so scared, Frankie,’ you whisper from behind the dark in your head. ‘I’m so scared I might forget him.’

Frankie’s seen the simplicities of grief before. Knows them intimately. Knows the horror of these realisations, understands as he presses his lips to your hairline and you shake in his arms. He loves you too much to lie.

So instead, he tells you a truth.

‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

When the light turns from golden to white, the sun a little higher in the sky, you disentangle yourself to blow your nose. You manage a laugh as you do it, muttering a bashful ew as Frankie watches you, still stretched out on your mattress. Any other time, and your heart would be hammering in your chest at the sight. But now, it’s all the comfort you need. 

He stands, stiff, stretching his arms to the ceiling before gathering you briefly in his arms again. 

‘You okay?’ He asks.

‘Better.’ You say, brushing a curl from his forehead.

His eyes are so warm, so gentle. 

‘Breakfast?’

You hum, offer him the best smile you can. A sludge of guilt slops in your stomach, but you try to swallow it.

‘Thank you. I’ll be down in a bit.’

When he’s downstairs, listening to the sound of your shower, he unpacks his grocery bag and begins making a stack of pancakes. Blueberry, banana, strawberry, chocolate chip. Syrup enough for you to taste through the salt at the back of your throat. Methodical, mechanical, more focused on listening for your movements through the floors of your house. The shutting off of the water, the soft thunk of your drawers. Your footsteps heavy on the stairs, down the hall. You appear in the doorway, hair washed, eyes red, cosy in sweats and a t-shirt. He smiles at you, and you smile back. It’s small, but it’s a start.

You move closer, and he takes you under his arm as he turns the stove off. You wrap your arms around his middle.

‘Thank you for the flowers,’ you say, quietly. Frankie follows your eyes to the bouquet arranged in the vase. Forget-me-nots, white carnations. ‘Thank you for not getting lilies.’

He smiles, kisses your forehead. Wonders whether he could leave a mark simply from doing it so often, so you’d always feel safe.

‘No problem.’

He guides you towards the table, pulls out the chair and makes sure you’re settled. Makes sure you have your coffee, your pancakes. The smell of the flowers is sweet, something blooming in your stomach. You trace the outline of them before you, the simplicity, the thought. Frankie asks what you want to do for the rest of the day. You deflect the question back at him, and he smiles.

‘Anything.’

‘Anything?’

You raise an eyebrow at his mhm.

‘That’s dangerous.’ You say with a wry smile.

Something in Frankie’s chest lifts. There she is.

Later, when Luc is tucked into your side and you’re tucked into Frankie’s, you’ll wonder how you can ever repay him. The kindness he shows you, the patience.

You only hope that you will, someday. Promise it, head leant against his shoulder.

Even if it takes the rest of your life.

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves - part five

chapter one ✩ chapter two ✩ chapter three ✩ chapter four

Your legs ached from the hiking, and your arms were definitely slightly sunburnt but otherwise your first day on the job had been a success.

The sun was starting to set as you and Paul drove back into the Rez. In no mood to cook you had already decided a trip to Sue’s was in order.

“Paul thank you for today, especially for getting me there and back in one piece.”

“No need to thank me, it’s literally my job,”

“Still, you put up with my relentless questions, and teasing, and impressively slow walking without complaining…much. I know you weren’t that keen on helping out today but I’m really glad you did.”

“Me too. I was just hesitant to get to know a new person, an outsider especially, so I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t want to be here. Maybe that was initially the case but I promise that went away very quickly,”

“I’m pleased, can’t have you thinking I have anything less than a stellar personality.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,”

“If you wouldn’t mind could you show me where Sue’s is? I think I’ll go straight there for dinner. You are absolutely more than welcome to join me”

“I’d never say no to Sues’ burger.”

The idle chit chat continued across the table as you and Paul finished your meals. The diner itself was small and cozy, with tribal artwork splashed across the walls and delicate wood carvings etched into the furniture. The food too was delicious, and definitely worth coming back for throughout your stay.

Paul was also proving to be just as good company inside as he was outside.

He happily chatted about the tribe, and the natural forests around the error. He was clearly linked to the land he grew up, despite the earlier comments about moving away. However he did seem to steer clear about his upbringing, never mentioning any parents or siblings.

It was hard not be nosy, you had an intrinsic desire to learn every little thing about him, but you managed to hold off.

“So how about tomorrow, did you get the short straw?”

“The short straw?”

“Being my babysitter.”

“That straw isn’t short. I initially didn’t, Jared was suppose to help out tomorrow. But I may have already texted him to let him know that I am taking over. There’s no way I’m letting him have the satisfaction of seeing the first wolf sighting.”

“Should I be honored, or is this purely to one up your best friend?”

“The latter for sure. If I knew how to operate the camera I’d ditch you as well and head up there myself. Steal the glory.”

“Well at least your honest. But just know I will be sending a heads up to everyone in my phone contacts. Wouldn’t want you to get rid of me once we have the photo.”

“Darn, you foiled my plan.”

Your chuckling was abruptly interrupted by a nasal voice piercing both your ear drums.

“Paul, fancy running into you here” A blonde haired, pink sweatsuit clad, lady declared from the edge of the table.

“Oh. Lauren, hi,” You could hear the drop in Paul’s voice, seemingly just as upset at the intrusion as you were. “What are you doing on the reservation?”

“I was spending the day on the beach with my friends, just thought I’d stop in for a coffee before I drove back to Forks. I’m glad I did!”

“That’s nice, well it was lovely to see you. Looks like your coffee is ready so you’d better get it and head off”

“Don’t be silly, I can drink it here with you ,”

“I’m really sorry Laura, but we’re actually busy at the moment. I’m sure Paul can talk to you some other time.” You interjected, not comfortable with the intense stare she was giving Paul. The girl hadn’t even looked in your direction once. Hopefully you weren’t misreading Paul’s feelings on the girl, but the grimace on his face seemed like a good indicator.

“It’s Lauren, actually. And who are you?”

“This is [y/n], and we were actually having a private conversation.”

“I can wait! Then we could go out….or stay in. Up to you,” Lauren playfully pouted. You almost groaned in the second hand embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen Lauren. I’m not interested in you like that,”

“Are you kidding?” She hissed, “and you’re interested in her?” Pointing a sharped clawed finger in your direction.

You prepared yourself for a polite no, but when Paul opened his mouth you thought you had misheard him.

“Absolutely.”

next chapter

[wosoragebaiter69]

double wham

patri guijarro x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: only 1 post tonight 😔 sorry guys, been busy with work and this was surprisingly hard to write… so it’s short, sorry anon

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*NOT PROOFREAD*

Today is the day that I finally propose to my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for 4 years and it’s been the absolute best of my life. It seemed fitting because the whole team is going out on a hike through the mountains, so not only will it be scenic but it will also be in front of our other teammates.

I’ve already told Frido, Lucy and Mapi. Who probably told others in the process. So most of the team likely know my plan. The only thing I don’t have control over is the answer Patri gives. I know she’ll probably say yes but I can’t help but feel nervous.

Little did I know.

Patri and I arrive together, as per usual and she immediately goes to sit with Claudia. Again nothing unusual. I go and sit down next to Lucy who has a massive grin on her face.

“Jesus Lucy, I haven’t even asked yet.” I lean over, whispering in a hushed tone.

“Ohhh, I know. Can’t wait to see her reaction.” I squint my eyes, she knows something.

I shrug it off, plugging in my headphones, ready for the hour bus ride we have to make before getting to our destination.

- - - - -

Once we arrive, Mapi pats me on the back before going to annoy Ingrid about something. I make my way to find Patri, interlocking my fingers with her own. Too focused on my own nerves, I fail to see hers.

We start the trek, observing the views of the city and other wildlife around the place. Taking photos every so often. The weather is nice, not too hot and cool enough so that when we do sweat it’s a cooling feeling.

After an hour or so, we make it to the top. The views are absolutely gorgeous as the city is lit up by the glowing sun. In the distance, I can see the bay. The water glistening even from so far away.

(side note why tf do i keep rhyming things help)

This is the moment. I have to ask, so I pull Patri aside and make her sit down. We’re away from most of the others but the views do not miss.

“So what is it?” She asks, slightly nervous.

“Well I… We’ve been dating for quite a while and I thought, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, soo.” I pause, pulling the box out of my bag.

“Will you marry me?” I ask.

I watch as her smile grows, and she starts laughing slightly.

“What’s so funny?” I smile, confused.

“Because, I was going to ask you the same thing.” She then proceeds to pull out her own box with a ring. Now it’s my turn to laugh.

“Oh God!” I yell into her shoulder, tears streaming out of my eyes.

“Well, I’ll put the ring I got on you, vice versa.” She nods and I take the ring out of the box, placing it delicately on her finger. It’s clear it suits her so well, even if my bank account cried for days. I’m assuming hers did as well.

Because when that ring is put on my finger, all I can think about is how right this feels. To the point I start crying.

“What’s wrong amor?” She wipes the tears away.

“Nothing, this just feels so right. I love you so much bebé” Her hands are on my face still, and she pulls me in for a long kiss.

When it’s done, realisation dawns upon me.

“Wait… do you think all the girls knew? I told Lucy, Frido and Mapi who probably told others and if you told people that means-“ Her eyes also go wide.

“True, very true. How about we go show them ah?” I nod and we get up walking toward everyone else.

“WE’RE GETTING MARRIED BITCHES!” Patri screams.

Most of them respond with the same energy, but all I can think about is how lucky I am to have someone like Patri. Someone I love so deeply.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

“A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY a wretched, wretched thing!”

Your mother repeated the phrase time and again, the redness in her eyes a reminder of the tears she had cried. Her face was full of wrinkles, as if she had just consumed a basket of sour oranges. Perhaps that is how the words felt on her lips, because despite being aimed at someone else—the ex-love of her life—they were also born out of her own painful experience.

“Listen to me carefully. They don't know what it means to love. Their hearts are barren, unable to take root and abide. Nothing can make them stay, my dear. Not for love, not for sex, for all your years of devotion to them, not even for their own flesh and blood!”

The woman's words may sound deranged, but her message is clear. Barren, has no ability to stay. Is this the reason why it was so easy for Daddy to walk away? Even when he walks by pictures on the wall, images of happier times—his wedding photo, your birth photo, your first day of school photo, the photo of you laughing over his shoulder—perhaps he doesn't even glance at them.

Society doesn't help either, because how is it all fair when the man can start somewhere new, as if he never had a daughter, and leave a woman behind whose love he could no longer return? He moves on to a new city, unburdened by the weight of his past mistakes. Meanwhile, the mother who stayed is scorned by the supposedly good neighbors for being a single mother.

“Why did you let man walk away?”

As if there was something to make him stay.

(Nothing can make a man stay.)

And so, precisely two weeks following your last encounter with Simon, you tried to stomach the absence of his face from the pub. Even if it's bitter and slightly sour—burning, the poison you chose.

Entering the subway car two seconds before the doors automatically closed, you hurriedly took a seat. Your phone screen shows nine o'clock – enough time to arrive on time. Raising your head to look straight, you just realized the presence of the lovebirds hanging their hands on the subway handle. Shy laughter with hints of sultry beneath could be heard amidst their whispered conversation.

Your eyes stay focused on the man's hand as it rests on the woman's waist before making a subtle path to continue moving downward. She pressed her head against his shoulder like a lover's nest; the noise her laughter once obscured now turned into soft moans as he proceeded lower and lower. His fingers were covered in plaster, covered in wounds and calluses.

Like a certain someone. However, deep down, even this man wasn't the first person to remind you of him today, or even just yesterday or the day before yesterday.

His fingers closed in a disguised squeeze. He slid it between her lush thighs, and yet it was you who pressed yours against each other as he rubbed three fingers against her stocking-clad flesh. She tried to stifle a moan—but, you heard it, saw how she gripped his shoulder tightly.

The sight was crude and improprietous, particularly in the company of the general public despite most of the passengers either snoozed quietly or were lost in their wired earbuds' music. Couldn't they have waited to at least get out of here and find a dark alley to do it?

Despite that, you couldn't take your eyes off the two. Like a pervert, or indeed you have become one. As she traces his ass and mirrors his action, you hold your breath; heart pounding.

Those work-worn fingers hike her skirt ever higher. What are they after? You still wonder. Is it the thrill of exhibitionism, or perhaps it is the urge to convey to the world and to the unfortunate souls witnessing their display of affection that their longing for one another is so powerful—so intense—that they simply cannot wait another minute to touch each other passionately?

The woman lets out a gasp that gives you an unwelcome shock as they proceed. Some other passengers cast curious glances in their direction, but the majority appear accustomed to the nearly indecent conduct.

Glancing around, you caught the eye of a man seated nearby in the chair across from you. Your cheeks heated, and you dropped your gaze. He must have seen it—your long, focused glare at the couple. Probably appeared as a truly envious woman or a hypocrite who judges others for their actions, while in reality, you would die for the same intimacy.

The world is old, and yet here you are, a young woman who has just lost her virginity, with no one to crave you the way the couple did. You don't know much, and you think that's what being in your twenties means—too naive to be an adult, too knowledgeable to be a child again. Everything is filled with dreams, until they transform into haunting ghosts. And when someone asks you about love, all you can say is that it is foreign – a privilege you were never granted.

When the stop is announced, you stand up in a hurry as the brakes squeal and doors slide open. Stepping onto the platform, you looked back at the couple through the dirty windows. You shook your head, focusing on each step up the stairs and making your way down the familiar streets to the opera house.

In the warm-up room, chatter and laughter filled the air as the ballerinas stretched and prepared. You took a place in the empty part of the barre. Stretching your muscles, you let the routine seep into your nerves.

The first piano key pressed represents an endless loop—the familiar strains of music for the White Swan pas de deux fill the studio as you and Jacob take their places as Odette and Siegfried. For more than two hours, the director bombarded the two of you with endless criticism, telling Jacob to be more "reluctant" to let you go, while it was the same old notes for you.

“Your Odette still looks bland! I want to see the doubt, the secret hope despite it all. Surprise us!”

Jacob spun you easily between his arms. You furrowed your brows stiffly in your attempt to instill an expression, but the director's shake of the head said it wasn't enough. He holds up a fist to stop the music.

The director stops in front of you and Jacob, the choreographer beside him. Hands on hips, he peers critically at your dancing partner.

“Hold her like this – like she is the most precious thing. He must be reluctant – he's found a girl he wants to marry. Savor the moment!” He put a strong hand on your waist to demonstrate to Jacob. “Feels how he clings to her, not wanting to let go just yet.”

Jacob let out a sigh. “Got it.”

As the director turns to face you, you suck in a sharp breath to brace yourself. He has lots of corrections for you—endless notes of your shortcomings, expectations not met. A tangled web of emotions knots in your stomach. You hope he can quickly spit it out, to be done and get this over with.

But to your surprise, he said nothing, only shaking his head with a frown. “Again from the top, Robert,” he calls to the pianist.

The room was filled again with the opening music of the pas de deux, pulling your head forcefully into focus and into Jacob's arms. However, as the dynamics swell, your heart beats faster. He definitely regrets it—his decision to choose you. You're sure after this, the balletmaster and the choreographers will pressure him to replace you if he hasn't already, saying they should've stuck with Mary or Claudine if they insist on a change. That will leave you as, once again, another dancer in the background.

Something burns inside your chest, yet the smoke can't seem to escape. Everything was securely shut, so nothing could enter, nor could the poison come out. You breathe in little by little, gasping for air as tears well up in your eyes.

He will replace you. He will replace you.

By the time the rehearsal is finished, you proceed to your private coaching. Standing in front of the mirrored wall, you watched carefully as the coach moved her elegant arms in a slow curve in the air.

“Like that. Just let your movement flow from the core of your body outward," she instructed gently.

You imitated her fluid movements, trying to imagine the graceful lines of wings and feathers. Your brows furrowed in concentration.

The coach shook her head. “No, you have to relax, my darling. Release that tension – swans move easily and freely. Don't set points on your movement, let it move past you.”

Trying again, you took a breath and softened your movements. More naturally, your arms rise and arch. Like a swan, like a swan. You lift higher, curving more and trailing an imperceptible wind.

“Yes! Just like that!” The coach walks around you. “Though, I'm sure you can do better. Go out and observe some swans, watch how they move.”

“And observe lovers as well while you’re at it.”

From the new voice joining in, you turned and saw the director. Crossing his arms, he took a step towards you. Your coach let out a small laugh as she scribbled something in her small notebook.

“Now Henri, don’t be a jerk. Leave the poor girl alone.” She chides.

The director stops in front of you, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder. He stared at you, eyes scanning what felt like every flaw that his experienced observation could find. You held your breath waiting.

"You're gifted; never make mistakes. Ballet, however, is much more than just dancing.” He pauses, and you almost think he's contemplating whether to keep it gentle or come out with the harsh truth. “Your performance lacks heart and it frustrates me because I see talent, but there's no soul. Tell me – have you ever been in love?”

You hesitate, then say softly, “Once in high school.”

Henri scoffs loudly. “That is not love, that’s puppy love. I mean the real thing – the kind of love that makes you feel like a complete idiot, that twists your insides and leaves your heart in tatters!”

The kind you were warned about long ago.

But why was Henri, unlike her, talking with such enthusiasm about that? With determination, as if he hadn't just said clearly that it was torture—a slow poisoning, a self-inflicted wound that never fully heals. What kind of person, in their right mind, advocates for another to dive into such peril?

Or perhaps that's the key. Perhaps, as artists, their blood was shed to be inscribed into art. Old ways made immortal. After all, what's life without tragedy? Without the perfection of the tragedy?

A chuckle from your coach snapped you back to reality. “Well, he's right. Better to have loved and lost than to never love at all, right?” she turned to you with a gentle smile, closing her notebook with a soft snap before putting it in her bag. “Now go home and rest that busy mind. We'll continue again tomorrow.”

With a final squeeze, your coach walked away after Henri; the two engaged in a new, vague conversation that carried outside the room. Their voices fade, leaving you alone. Dust grains danced under the lighting. You stared straight at your reflection.

As you gather your belongings, your feet drag reluctantly. You walked over and turned off the lights, then made your way to the door. For the last time tonight, you look again in the mirror—a silhouette created from the darkness of the room meeting the light of the quiet hallway. You pulled the door knob and locked the heavy doors before returning to the old streets of London.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to love at all.”

Mother would disagree.

That woman walks across the earth stumbling, her feet heavy from the ball and chain that shackle her feet—the restraining device is all her anger, and all her anger was once love. If someone said that to her face, you could imagine her lips pulling into a frown before they parted and spat out curses. “Foolish little girl,” she would say. You never truly love until you pray on your knees to stop loving.

Mother would disagree, that's for sure. But you?

Henri was right about your high school crush being puppy love. Upon further reflection, it might have been admiration or even a lie. Teenage girls are always desperate to look like they know a thing or two about love, to enter a room holding hands with someone, and to be the talk of the week. It doesn't make you stupid, but it certainly helps you fit in. It was probably why your mother never reacted much when she was found out—because she knows it will pass quite quickly.

You're not your mother, are you? Nor her warnings. Not that a man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing! bullshit that she always repeats. Not that fragile woman whose view of the world changed after her own romance turned sour. Surely, it wasn't all that horrible? After all, people fall so deeply in love that they decide to marry, to be in a lifetime commitment. People fall so deeply in love that they make little humans as a testimony of their union.

(A girl never learns.)

And you are nothing if not obsessive, full of determination. You want everything – perfection—the first step is to bring Odette to life. If it's true what Henri said, then you will do it. Fall in love.

(A girl never learns.)

Yet, here you are. A month has passed since you made up your mind on your little quest. Despite the vastness of London, people are too focused on their own issues, and chatting with strangers brings more harm than unexpected (or, in your case, expected) romance. By day, the city bustles, but at night, it's the drunken men who crowd the sidewalks with their unnapealing false flattery and alcohol-infused breath.

Tonight, as you exit the grand doors of the opera building, you are greeted by a drizzle. Mist rises from the rain-soaked pavement, droplets bounce off cobblestones and roofs. The chill air bites past your thin coat, making you sneeze.

“Damn this weather.” You grumbled.

A dull ache has made a home behind your eyes. Changing seasons and busy schedules are really a good combo for lowering the body's immunity. You sighed trying to ignore the fever burning your skin.

Too lost in dreamy thoughts, you stride across the street without looking. Blinding headlights beam at you with a blaring horn—and you freeze. Heart in your throat, you close your eyes bracing for the impact.

Someone pulled you back just in time. The car slowed down for the driver to roll down the window and yell a string of curses before speeding off again. Your pulse starts to slow, head spinning trying to process what just happened.

“Christ, pay attention will ya?”

At the deep voice, your brain nearly shorts out. You whirl around so fast that your vision swims, and you find yourself looking up into a pair of brown eyes that you would recognize anywhere. Tall, broad shoulders, blonde eyelashes, and that leather jacket he always wears.

“Simon?”

After almost two months of his absence, this ghost of a man stands in front of you. Simon. Your heartbeat picks up again, this time with questions swirling around your hazy mind.

It is our custom to always look for something. To dig meaning in the meaningless. To hope for worth in the worthless. To search for deeper design. To take the warning as a good omen. To mistook tragedies as blessings in disguise.

(Being human, is it beautiful or tragic?)

@strawberrygato

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