#alternatively i am trying to reconnect with this old friend who i know loves playing the piano and is very passionate about it but doesnt

[mellotronmkll]

I want to play with other people again but I don't want to play with an orchestra I want to play chamber music ... but in a lowkey low pressure setting but it's like how do I find other people to form an amateur quartet with and we just play for fun 😭

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

So… I clicked on your Marvel tag and, because I am a cruel, cruel person, what do you think would happen if Perry, Candace, and Vanessa got snapped instead of Phineas, Ferb, and Dr. Doofenshmirtz? Obviously, the gang probably wouldn’t remain completely intact, so one or more of Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet would have also been dusted. Like, Candace and Vanessa would end up the same age as Phineas and Ferb, and Doof would lose his entire support system (except maybe Norm).

ooh throwback to the first snap au 👀

First of all, HOW DARE YOU

Secondly, I think this would throw off the PnF gang just as much as losing Phineas and Ferb would but in a completely different way. I think losing Candace would really dull the boys' spark, and they'd really stop wanting to build things. The rest of the gang (whoever's left of it, at least) would want to be there for them, but they'd be facing their own losses as well, and I think eventually they'd stop hanging out too much. They'd be friendly enough at school, but by the time they've started recovering emotionally, their friendship would pretty much be over. One day they'll look back on it as just a summer thing when they were kids.

I think what happens to Doof is entirely dependant on who remains at OWCA. The best case scenario (for him, at least) would probably be if Monty, Mrs. Monogram, and Carl were all snapped out of existence, leaving Major Monogram with pretty much nothing left. I think they might be able to help each other if they're both feeling the same loss because they'd both need someone to lean on. But if any of Monogram's family or friends (well, friend. there's Carl. other than that, he has no friends) survive, Monogram will doubtlessly lean on them instead.

I think the other possible alternative where Doof comes out on top (or, you know, not on the bottom) is if Monty loses everyone he loves. He doesn't necessarily have the best relationship with his parents, but he loves them despite Major Monogram's their flaws. If Carl gets snapped, too, Monty would naturally be the next in line to take over OWCA. I don't think he'd want to, but I think he'd feel compelled to when he saw the messes that were the OWCA agents and the LOVEMUFFIN scientists. Half of them will have lost their nemesis, you know? They need guidance. And if Monty's in charge, he's going to make it his personal duty to keep track of who's alive and who's not, so he'd keep an eye on all the scientists.

I have to think he wouldn't know who's been snapped? I'm assuming OWCA would be in contact with Fury and Monty would know what's going on, but Fury wouldn't have all the answers so Monty would have to go to all the scientists' empty lairs when he doesn't hear from them. He wouldn't want to go to Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc after losing Vanessa, but it's been dead silent here anyway; it'll just be a quick-in, quick-out (and maybe a brief conversation with Norm).

Obviously, that's not the case; Doof is just sitting there in the dark — and probably crying if he has any tears left. They both love Vanessa, they both like Perry, and they both have complicated-but-probably-positive relationships with Major Monogram, so they'd have a lot in common. I think Monty would take pity on him and sit down with him and just hang out. There'd be some talking, maybe some crying, probably a lot of silence, but in the end, they'd both appreciate the other's company, and I think that might almost evolve into a substitute father-child relationship to make up for the ones they just lost. It's not the same, but they have to make due where they can, right?

Alternatively, maybe there's nobody left for Doof. Maybe there is, but they don't want anything to do with him. Either way, Doof would be all alone, and maybe he'd want to let it that way. Maybe he'd unplug the phone. Maybe he'd put a sign on the door asking for people to stay away. Maybe he'd turn Norm off. He'd cope by shutting everyone out — not that there's really anyone left for him to let in anyway — and fall into a deep, years-long hopeless depression. I don't think there's a single possible outcome where he thrives; I think it's just a matter of how much he suffers.

I do have to wonder if it would be a possibility for him to reconnect with his blood family. I'd hope he wouldn't want to see his parents, but he still loves his mother and he still respects his father; maybe he would want to if they'd want to see him. Maybe Roger got snapped and Heinz tries to talk to his parents about it. Maybe it goes well; maybe they call him a schnitzel and kick him out because they're grieving, too, and they don't have time for him. Alternatively, maybe Roger survives and he loses everyone close to him. Maybe Melanie gets snapped away and he loses his closest friend/maybe girlfriend. Maybe their parents are snapped away, too, and Heinz is the only one he knows would understand. (Bear in mind that Roger really doesn't understand the scope of their parents' hatred for Heinz; he knows he was the favorite but he doesn't seem to have much of a grasp on just how miserable Heinz's childhood was. Because Heinz still wants his parents' love and respect, I don't think Roger will ever really understand what his brother went through.) I don't know if Heinz would accept an olive branch from his brother. I do think that if it went the other way, Roger would accept one from Heinz. If Heinz decides he'd like Roger back in his life, I think it would work out.

I think the interesting part would be what happens afterwards. Perry obviously fits like a glove. His boys love him; Doof would literally have mourned him until his own dying day if that's how it played out; Candace didn't even realize they were both gone. He'd be upset to have missed such a big part of his boys' lives, but overall, things would be fine.

Candace, meanwhile, would probably have the hardest time adjusting. Her annoying little brothers aren't even little anymore, for god's sake! And they'd be do different, too. No more building; no more little posse of kids; everything changed in literally the blink of an eye for her. And what about Jeremy? What if he didn't get blipped and he found someone else? He'd be thrilled to see her again, obviously, but probably not enough to break up with whoever he's seeing right now. Alternatively, maybe Jeremy got blipped and Little Suzie didn't, so she and Jeremy can bond over their little siblings growing up so fast.

I think the only one(s?) who would have it worse would be the ones from the main gang that got blipped. They'd all been in elementary school together, and now some of them are in high school. They might all try to become friend again and maybe it works for the older kids, but it's such a big gap in both age and maturity that I don't think they'd ever be the same. The blipped kid(s) would probably have to make new friends and start all over.

Vanessa would be welcome back with open arms. Then those arms would wrap around her and not let her go until she was literally about to pass out from lack of oxygen. If Monty wasn't blipped, he definitely would have moved on, but I'd like to think they'd still be friends? I also think seeing Ferb all grown up (or, you know, 14ish years old) might expedite the dating process. I also think that would make Candace incredibly uncomfortable — more so than I think it did in canon because not only is that her friend and her little brother, but it's a reminder that he's really not that little anymore.

I'd like to think that if Doof did make friends with someone (one of the Monogram boys or Roger), they stay friends. It absolutely boggles Vanessa's mind when she comes back to it, but it just makes Perry happy to see that he wasn't completely miserable. I don't think he'd go back to evil, but he and Perry would still hang out (and it would take Perry a while to get used to the idea of going to DEI without getting trapped). Vanessa might kill her dad when she finds out he turned Norm off to mope in peace, but they'd dust him off and turn him back on and they'd explain everything to him.

I don't think things would ever go back to the way they were, but, ultimately, I think it would all be fine. It'll take a few years, but I think everyone would ultimately adjust just fine to their new lives.

[needtherapy]

open always petal by petal (ch 2)

Song Lan knows his only passenger, Cao Huan, is more secrets than truths, but he's still the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent.

It shouldn't matter that Cao Huan plays the guqin like his heart is broken.

It shouldn't matter that his smiles light up the darkest corners of Fuxue's passageways.

It shouldn't matter that he makes Song Lan curious, curious in a way he hasn't felt in years.

It's just an ordinary transport, a regular fare, a mostly-honest way to make a living. All they have to do is get from Sichuan Station to Caiyi Port. The galaxy may be a dangerous place, but Song Lan is very good at his job, and this should be an easy two-week trip.

The rest doesn't matter. It doesn't.

READ ON AO3

Notes: Rated E for Explicit. Title from e.e. cummings' poem "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond". Thanks to @cirilien​, @coslyons​, @treemaidengeek​ and tucuxi (AO3) for the beta reads!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

⋆ Day 7 ⋆

I fell in love with him first, and he fell in love with the ship first, Song Lan tries to mumble, but he forgot, he doesn’t have a voice anymore, stolen by the man who stole Xingchen’s life.

A gentle hand smooths back his hair and traces a path across his jaw.

“Captain Song, when you wake up, I will buy you a fleet of ships. Just wake up,” a voice says. “Please wake up.”

Song Lan tries words again, even knowing they won’t work. I don’t want a fleet of ships. I only want to know why you are filled with such sadness, he says, but all that comes out is a breathy groan.

The warm hand on his neck disappears, and he barely stops himself from reaching out to pull the comfort back. Instead, he reluctantly opens his eyes and sits up.

The ship is dark, lit only by red emergency lights. He’s sitting on a table in the infirmary, hooked to a neural interface and cortical stimulator, and Cao Huan is on the other side of the room, disinfecting his hands. When he turns, Song Lan signs, “How long?”

“Only a few minutes,” is the answer, and Song Lan can tell the man is fudging the truth if not outright lying. He’s not great at it. “The shockwave knocked out the electrical systems. I looked, but the backup is uniquely designed. I did not want to risk...fiddling just yet.”

He says the word like he’s never used it before, and Song Lan smiles, slowly unhooking the machines from his head. Xingchen definitely had a unique way of wiring. Sometimes he knitted the wires together because he liked the way it looked. Or he chose colors that didn’t correspond to normal schematics but had meaning to him. Blue for ground because he was from the top of a snowy mountain, yellow for live because the sun created life. And so on.

“Okay. I’ll turn on the backups. Anything else?”

Cao Huan bites his lip and shakes his head.

“There’s no time to be polite. If there’s something I should know, tell me,” Song Lan insists, swinging his legs over the edge of the table and gingerly standing. There’s a bump and scrape on his forehead, but otherwise, he’s fine. He’s more worried about Fuxue.

“No,” Cao Huan says. “Nothing. We are far enough away from the remaining pirate fleet for safety. They should be disabled long enough for us to get somewhere for repairs.”

Song Lan knows there’s something more. He knows it like he knows every inch of Fuxue, like he knows the unperturbed expression on Cao Huan’s face means the exact opposite. It takes a second to unravel.

“You didn’t kill them,” he signs, and Cao Huan’s jaw tightens. He looks away, and Song Lan knows he’s guessed right. “You tried your best. They turned.”

“My best was not enough.”

Song Lan doesn’t miss the bitterness of the words.

“They’re pirates. They knew what the cost might be.”

“You are right, Captain Song. There is no time to delay. Show me how I can help you restart Fuxue,” Cao Huan says, and again, the topic is seemingly closed.

With a sigh, Song Lan motions for Cao Huan to follow him, and they spend the next hour rewiring critical systems to the backup engine. Only life support switches automatically, and they have to reconnect propulsion and flight control. It’s just enough to limp to the nearest station, which is, luckily, Rogue Sky.

Cao Huan is surprisingly reluctant to go there, though, even after Song Lan explains that it’s the best place for repairs.

“Are you certain it is our only option?” he asks.

Song Lan considers, even though this is his ship and his decision. The man had helped save his life. This trip is more like a partnership than a mere transport now.

“I trust their chief absolutely,” he finally signs, and Cao Huan nods, accepting his answer with a quick flicker of a smile that in no way fools Song Lan.

⋆ Day 8 ⋆

Rogue Sky is one of the nicer unaffiliated stations, orbiting a planet on the border of the Western and Eastern Sectors, near Qinghe-controlled space, but it has none of the grandeur of Sichuan, or even Caiyi. Despite having been cobbled together from scrapped and spare pieces, it’s known for quick, skilled, no-questions-asked repairs. Any one of those reasons would be good enough to come here, but the odd assortment of stragglers who live and work on Rogue Sky are the closest thing Song Lan has to friends anymore.

There are more than a dozen ships—including a Goldlighter medic—docked in bays or sitting on landing pads. Song Lan brings Fuxue into one of the large repair bays that already has two other ships in it. Even here, Fuxue isn’t very big, dwarfed by Qinghe mining vessels and Qishan haulers. In fact, the only ship smaller is a sleek Yunmeng runabout, a high-speed cruiser that seems a long way from home, in Song Lan’s opinion.

He’d called ahead, so Qingyang is waiting for him.

“Now that I’ve seen Fuxue, I’m even more shocked you’re alive. What did you do to her this time?” she demands.

Song Lan grins and signs, “I can’t be blamed for pirates.”

He feels more than hears Cao Huan behind him and adds, “We wouldn’t have survived if my passenger wasn’t such a skilled gunner. Luo Qingyang…” Song Lan pauses. He doesn’t know what Cao Huan’s sign for his name is. He picks the signs for the two words as a stand in for now. “This is Cao Huan. Cao Huan, this is Qingyang, chief of Rogue Sky.”

Cao Huan has an odd expression on his face when Song Lan looks at him, but he smiles and nods at Qingyang. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Captain Song speaks highly of you.”

“Ah. Cao Huan,” Qingyang says. “Any friend of Song Lan’s is welcome here.” She turns back to Song Lan. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat while the mechs diagnose your baby.”

They walk through the station and Song Lan takes note of the changes. Typically, many of the station workers live on-world, but he sees plenty of new sections. Living quarters here. New worker dining halls there. Upgrades to the infirmary deck.

He sees other things too. Signs of wear. A bucket under a leaking pipe. Shoeless children running through the halls. He wonders when the last time he visited was, and a pang of guilt taps his shoulder. Every visit matters. Every tiny scrap of work he can give them matters. It’s been too long. However long is too long.

He touches Qingyang’s elbow. “Is everything okay here?”

“Same old, same old. Life goes on and we try to keep up.” Qingyang says with a smile, the same thing she always says. This time, he shakes his head and frowns at her, and she shrugs, giving him a more serious, considering look.

“There are a lot of new people on the station. Better jobs here, and safer. The Joint Senate is doing its best, and even the Goldlighters are...better than they were, but you know how it is. After a war, after a regime change, there’s always a vacuum,” she answers. “It’s never been an easy life, being unaffiliated, and lately, there are a lot more pirates and mercs. But we have a good reputation and I aim to keep it that way.”

It should be comforting, but he doesn’t miss the words between the words and that she only signs to him, doesn’t speak out loud. While the High Chancellor was openly hostile toward unaffiliated stations and colonies, Xiandu was more insidiously at odds with them, framing it as “in their best interest” to be part of the Goldlighter network. It was safer, he’d said. Together, they’d be more prosperous, he’d said.

But more than one station who objected, more than one colony who resisted, had gone missing under his regime. Even the scrapping colony Song Lan had grown up with was gone now, either destroyed or forcibly integrated. It’s a miracle Rogue Sky has remained independent and prosperous as long as they have, and Song Lan knows it hasn’t been as easy as it’s seemed.

He wonders if Qingyang is being mindful of the guest behind them who is undoubtedly one of the privileged class, if not an affiliated Goldlighter himself, or if it’s easier for her to disguise her worries if he can’t hear her voice.

Lunch—or whatever meal this is; Song Lan has forgotten—is hot and brown and full of noodles and vegetables. Hydroponics, Qingyang tells them, with a glance at Cao Huan. An old friend upgraded their systems last year, and it hasn’t given them a lick of trouble since then. Song Lan wonders how legal their upgrade was.

“I would like to see the gardens, if you are willing to show me,” Cao Huan asks, signing as he speaks, and Qingyang looks sideways at Song Lan before she nods. He tries not to smile. Evidently the tall, quiet man is capable of surprising her, too.

The gardens are a full deck, now, alternating between neat and tidy rows of fruits and vegetables and wild, bright flower gardens that seem to have no other value than aesthetic. It’s stunning, far more spectacular than he remembers. Song Lan turns to ask Cao Huan if it’s what he expected, but Cao Huan is distracted, smiling and touching the dark green leaves of a climbing vine. He leans forward to sniff its tiny white flowers, closing his eyes when he inhales.

Song Lan means to step back so he doesn’t intrude on what feels like a private moment, but Cao Huan looks at him. Just looks at him through long dark lashes, with the hint of a smile in his eyes, and Song Lan knows he wants to kiss him here in the midst of all this beauty. He hasn’t felt this way in so long, he almost doesn’t recognize the way desire captures and bends him, focusing everything on a single point of intent.

He is so grateful when Qingyang’s comm squawks for her attention and disrupts the direction his thoughts are heading.

“The mechs say it’s fixable, but it’ll take two days. Honestly,” she adds, when Song Lan’s face falls, “you’re lucky they can do it that quickly. We’ve had an influx of parts for Jian-class ships lately. A lot of crews are upgrading the old Qishan system to Lan nanotech.”

“Captain Song, please, do not worry on my account,” Cao Huan assures him. “Two days will make no difference."

He does look relieved, actually, and once again, Song Lan wonders what’s waiting for him in Caiyi.

“I need to get back to work,” Qingyang says with a wry smile. “Let me show you to your room.”

Song Lan hopes she’s just misspoken. He doesn’t want to ask, for fear of insulting Cao Huan, but he is also increasingly aware that it would be...difficult to sleep in the same room.

First, though, they go back to the repair hangar so the chief mech can tell Song Lan every single thing wrong with Fuxue, some of which existed before the pirates, and all of which the mech is certain must be fixed immediately. It’s hard to argue that the deflectors don’t need upgrading, or that the propulsion system doesn’t need cleaning, so he just sighs and agrees, thankful again that Cao Huan paid so well in advance.

They gather up the things they’ll need for a two-day stay, including the discarded knitting—Song Lan is sure he’s going to need the soothing repetition of knit and purl—and follow Qingyang again.

She hadn’t misspoken. There is only one free guest room on the station thanks to the Goldlighter medic ship, which is two days into a four-day engine repair. It is, at least, a larger room, with plenty of space to hang a hammock, and Song Lan has slept in worse places.

“I’m so sorry. We’ve seen a lot of these longer repairs lately. Either they’re finicky old engines or, like the medic ship, they’re the complicated new Goldlighter systems. If they weren’t ill and injured patients, I would happily make them move into fewer quarters,” she apologizes for the sixth time.

“Chief Luo, I have slept in many worse places. Even the floor would be fine for two nights,” Cao Huan says for the sixth time. Song Lan wonders which one of them is going to win the war of courtesy. “Thank you for your concern.”

There’s something in his tone, both honest and firm, that makes Qingyang finally relax. She starts to say something, but a voice in her comm catches her attention and she shakes her head, waving to them as she walks away arguing.

For a minute, they are alone, and although they’ve been alone on a ship for the last eight days, this time Song Lan is aware of every single one of the sixty heartbeats and twelve breaths it takes for Cao Huan to stop surveying the room and smile.

“If you do not mind, I would like to meditate in the gardens.”

Song Lan tips his head. “You don’t need permission. Most areas of this station are open to all.”

Cao Huan laughs, light and a little uncertain. “No, Captain Song, I…” He falters, and Song Lan wonders what’s in that falter, what he meant to say, because he very clearly changes direction. “I will be gone for an hour, in case anyone looks for me.”

He picks up his guqin and leaves. Song Lan shuts the door behind him, leans against the wall and, very gently, bangs his head on it.

Instead of dwelling on the things he can’t change, Song Lan goes for a run, a luxury he wasn’t expecting to get halfway through this trip. It does help to clear his mind, and the fast, chilly shower afterward—real water, more satisfying than any sonic shower—works even better. He’s still toweling off his hair when he gets back to the room and finds Cao Huan hanging up a hammock.

“No,” he signs, touching Cao Huan on the shoulder to catch his attention. “You should have the bed.”

Cao Huan frowns. “Why? You are the pilot. You should be well-rested.”

“You’re the passenger. You paid for a comfortable passage,” Song Lan insists. It’s ridiculous, but it doesn’t seem right for Cao Huan to sleep in a hammock instead of a bed. He should have soft pillows and plush blankets.

“This is perfectly fine,” Cao Huan argues, a stubborn clench in his jaw. “Do not assume that I am dissembling for the sake of pride. I have not slept in a bed in three years.”

Something about that tickles the back of Song Lan’s mind, but he doesn’t have time to work it out, because Cao Huan frowns and crosses his arms.

“Captain Song, I am not as cosseted as you think me to be. No one has needed to worry about my comfort in quite some time.”

Song Lan only means to look pointedly at Cao Huan’s expensive silk robes, but his gaze lingers on the skin at the base of Cao Huan’s throat, at the hint of muscle in his arms, the way his belt hugs his waist, and his mouth goes dry. He tries to think of a response, any response.

“Well, I do,” he signs with a huff. “Worry about you.”

Cao Huan’s face shifts from aggravation to confusion, and he examines Song Lan’s expression as if, now, he’s the one who doesn’t believe what Song Lan is saying.

“Captain?” he asks tentatively.

Before Song Lan can wipe the truth from his face or think of something to diffuse his stupid stupidity, Cao Huan is stepping closer, touching Song Lan’s face with his beautiful hands, and his lips are on Song Lan’s, warm and inviting.

With a groan he can’t silence, Song Lan accepts the invitation wholeheartedly, wrapping his arms around Cao Huan’s waist and kissing him harder, pressing into his body harder. The lines of it he can feel under the robes are tantalizing, more muscle than he expected, but also more softness—a curve of belly against his and a truly exceptional ass.

Cao Huan tugs at Song Lan’s shirt, and without debating the wisdom of it, without succumbing to the creeping voice that whispers you can’t have this, Song Lan lifts his hands and lets Cao Huan pull the shirt over his head. He fills his mind with the feel of soft silk against his skin and the burning taste of Cao Huan’s mouth.

“You are extraordinary,” Cao Huan says, kissing a spot on Song Lan’s neck that sears like a brand. “Spectacular,” he adds, biting Song Lan’s earlobe softly. “Gorgeous,” he grins before kissing Song Lan’s mouth again, and it even sounds like he means it.

Song Lan hasn’t been with anyone since Xingchen, never thought he could want anyone but Xingchen. He doesn’t know why, why now, why this man, why this place, but maybe it doesn’t matter. He feels what he feels, and Xingchen would never have asked him to seal himself up in a lonely tower forever. He can enjoy this moment before it passes. He can.

He fumbles with Cao Huan’s robes, unsure where to start, so Cao Huan generously helps, untying the complicated knots and ties of the belt and five layers of robes more swiftly than Song Lan could have managed, dropping them to the ground in a heap. He’s breathtaking, standing in his white pants, feet bare, hair pooling around his shoulders, an uncertain smile on his lips, and Song Lan is furious with his own speechlessness. He was never overly reliant on words, but the unfairness of his inability to tell Cao Huan how much he wants him, to not even be able to say his name, hits him all at once.

“Is it...is this...too much?” Cao Huan asks, caressing his cheek, obviously trying to read the shift in Song Lan’s expression.

Song Lan shakes his head and leans forward, resting his forehead against Cao Huan’s. It is too much in the way that the sun in the morning is too much after a long dark night, but he forges ahead, kissing Cao Huan methodically, patiently this time. No, Song Lan changes his mind, nibbling the hollow of Cao Huan’s throat and listening to his soft hum of pleasure, it’s just enough.

He notices Cao Huan’s hands on the waistband of his pants seconds before the man sinks to his knees and tugs them down, nuzzling his nose into the sensitive skin at the joint of Song Lan’s hip. He bites a path up the inside of Song Lan’s thigh, his sharp teeth scattering tingling sparks through Song Lan, and flicks his tongue against each spot, buckling Song Lan’s knees and forcing him to catch himself on the man’s sturdy shoulders. Cao Huan looks up at him, lifts his light brown eyes to meet Song Lan’s, before he licks the hard line of Song Lan’s cock and takes it into his mouth.

Song Lan falls into a dark and nameless void, shocked by his own reaction to Cao Huan’s lips around him. The desire coalesces from every part of him, settling in his core like a waiting explosion. He is desperate for the straining, clawing ache to release, desperate for it never to end. He runs his fingers over the arch of Cao Huan’s ear, and it steadies him in some ways, undoes him in others. He yearns to know more, where this tiny scar on his cheek came from, why his hair is long, what he’s been doing alone for three years, who he is.

Cao Huanes presses lightly into Song Lan’s skin, grazing his hips, skimming the taut muscle of his stomach, touching everywhere he can reach, and he looks at Song Lan with more than just want. It occurs to Song Lan that maybe they are in this void together, careening into something neither of them expected or understands.

He can’t hold back his hoarse cries, and he doesn’t want to. He wants Cao Huan to know what this means to him, that it’s perfect and wonderful, that even if he could speak, he wouldn’t have the words for it.

The climax rolls over him slowly, at first like an opening fist, but then without end, the collapsing star of pleasure stealing away his thoughts, even his breath. He only inhales when Cao Huan’s tongue swirls around his cock, almost too intense to bear, and he staggers backward, hitting the bed and sitting down awkwardly. Cao Huan strips off his pants and follows him, straddling his lap and kissing him, on the mouth, on the neck, on the top of his shoulder, murmuring words Song Lan can’t believe.

“Please,” Song Lan signs, “I want you...anything...everything…Huan-ge, please.”

He doesn’t think he’s asking right, at a loss for forming intelligent words, but Cao Huan growls, low and fierce in the back of his throat, not a sound Song Lan expected from so dignified a man, and he shivers at what it promises.

“I...did not consider…” Cao Huan answers shakily, “I do not want to hurt you,” he says, tightening his hands around Song Lan’s jaw.

Song Lan doesn’t think he cares right now, but as much as he wants to fuck Cao Huan, to be fucked by him, he can adapt.

He swipes his fingers through his mouth and wraps his wet hand around Cao Huan’s cock, stroking him hard and fast. Cao Huan tips his head back, one hand on Song Lan’s shoulder and rocks up into his hand, but it’s not quite enough. Dragging Cao Huan on top of him, Song Lan adjusts Cao Huan’s cock between his thighs and squeezes, reveling in the man’s guttural moan. “Captain Song, you…you are more...” Cao Huan cups Song Lan’s cheek. “You are so much more,” he says and kisses Song Lan, thrusting between his legs, the slippery, sliding pressure igniting something new and frenzied inside Song Lan.

He clutches greedy hands around Cao Huan’s ass, pulling him closer, and they settle into a rhythm together immediately, nearly familiar, like a song he knows by heart. Song Lan looks into Cao Huan’s eyes, his almost golden eyes, and he doesn’t understand how it can be like this. He doesn’t know this man, not even his real name. How can he feel so much for him all at once, so much desire and fascination? It doesn't make sense when he tries to think about it, but when he lets go and just exists, just accepts it, everything feels exactly right.

“Captain, please, I want your mouth,” Cao Huan’s breath next to his ear sends thrilling bolts of lightning down into the tips of Song Lan’s fingers. “Can I come in your mouth?”

Song Lan can’t answer fast enough, tugging at Cao Huan and trying to say yes, fuck, yes at the same time. Only the “yes” comes out in any way discernible, and Cao Huan scrambles forward. Song Lan eagerly takes him into his mouth, his cock hot and wet already, hitting the back of Song Lan’s throat. He urges Cao Huan deeper, tightening the lock of his lips around him. The mechanics are different than he remembers, and he thinks the sensation must be different than Cao Huan expected, but the man cries out almost immediately, his climax crashing over him and transforming his face into something almost too beautiful to look at.

Cao Huan slumps onto the bed, his panting breaths mixed with laughter, and Song Lan scoots toward him. A sated smile finds its way onto his mouth and Cao Huan touches it.

“Captain Song, the service on this transport is unexpectedly thorough,” he says solemnly, and Song Lan laughs.

“You can use my name, you know,” Song Lan signs, and then realizes he’s never shown his name to Cao Huan. There’s a strange intimacy in making the sign, the combination of tented fingers that flick down, like brushing water off of skin, and he feels heat rising to his skin.

“Perhaps I prefer to call you Captain,” Cao Huan teases, but he repeats the sign.

Song Lan doesn’t bother to ask the sign for his name. He knows it won’t be real anyway, but Cao Huan purses his lips thoughtfully.

“I am Huan,” he signs, with a closing, twisting fist that opens flat, almost the normal way of making the signs, but not quite, and he watches Song Lan closely as though there’s some test in these motions. “It is not how I am usually known, but...it is not untrue.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Song Lan tells him, and Cao Huan shakes his head.

“It matters to me.” He brushes back Song Lan’s hair. “I… I want to tell you the things that...that are not too shameful to say.”

And now he is blushing, the red bloom spreading from his neck up into his ears, and he ducks his head, tucking it under Song Lan’s chin. Song Lan doesn’t have an answer for that, for the trust he’s being given. He wants to be worthy of it, though, so he doesn’t ask any questions, just pulls Cao Huan closer.

It is astounding, Song Lan thinks, running a hand down Cao Huan’s arm, how much he wants him again already, but he can hear the man’s breathing starting to slow. He satisfies himself with the feeling of skin against skin, the silky soft brush of hair over his arm, the contented sigh as Cao Huan pins Song Lan’s leg with his.

Song Lan briefly considers how much warmer they would be with a blanket, but reconsiders when he looks at the naked stretch of Cao Huan’s body next to his. There are some things worth enduring a little chill for.

⋆ Day 9 ⋆

Song Lan doesn’t quite know how to react to waking up in a bed with someone else, someone who had, evidently, adjusted them in the night. They are under the blankets now, and Song Lan is curved around Cao Huan’s back, one arm under his head, one across his chest.

He decides he’s not at all unhappy about this unfamiliar arrangement. It’s just a passing fling, and all the more precious for its fleeting nature.

Song Lan sets his lips against Cao Huan’s shoulder, following the muscle up his neck. There is a small bump at the top of his spine, not a bone, something with a faint blue light under the skin. Now that he’s looking closely, he can see a practically invisible line along Cao Huan’s hairline, an indistinct ribbon, and he wonders what kind of neural implant it is. He’s never seen such delicate work. The red contact points and black wiring of his own nodes are barely noticeable at a distance but raised enough to be seen and felt up close, and he is well aware that his rescuers spared no expense to provide them.

He will tell you when he’s ready, Song Lan thinks. Or he won’t. It doesn’t matter.

Song Lan’s hand finds its way down Cao Huan’s side to his hip, flexing involuntarily against the smooth skin, and Cao Huan’s voice rumbles in his chest.

“If you are going to be so ardent in the morning, Captain, we will need to find provisions first.”

He rolls over and kisses Song Lan firmly. Song Lan realizes that he’d been clinging to doubts about whether last night had been intentional or a fluke, whether Cao Huan would regret it in the morning, and the answer is a crushing relief.

“Also, I am hungry,” he grins, sweet and charming in a way that reminds Song Lan a little of Xingchen.

Not that they’re anything alike, Song Lan thinks. Xingchen was a wild soul through and through, nothing like Cao Huan’s outward tranquility and concealed turbulence. It’s like comparing fire and ice, and the only similarity is how they both burn through Song Lan.

They make their way to the city decks, the heart of the station where food sellers, shops, and entertainment stalls are crammed together, one on top of the other. Song Lan waves and smiles at the people he knows, even stops to talk to some of them.

A few people give Cao Huan curious looks. If he stood out in Sichuan, he is a strange and alien creature here, not only for the way he’s dressed. There’s just something about him that draws the eye, even when he is so clearly trying to be unnoticed.

They buy tiny scallion pancakes from one stall, fried noodles from another, curls of fruit-flavored ice cream, lotus root sandwiches, spicy tacos, steamed buns—more food than Song Lan normally has for two meals, but Cao Huan has apparently never eaten any of it before. Song Lan isn’t too proud to admit that he keeps buying food to watch Cao Huan’s expression change with every new taste.

They find the other supplies they’re looking for, too. Song Lan is a little embarrassed to buy lube with someone, but Cao Huan seems unperturbed by the shopkeeper’s knowing grin. He also buys new clothes: dark blue pants, fitted white shirts, and a very sensible leather jacket.

It’s all so mundane, so ordinary to go shopping and eat food with someone, but it feels wondrous, like waking up and finding an uncharted green planet.

He glances at Cao Huan who is looking at him with a curious, puzzled expression, and Song Lan wants him so badly, he’s sure it’s evident on his face. Cao Huan’s mouth quirks, and he speeds up, taking Song Lan’s hand and pulling him along.

By the time they get back to their room, Song Lan has figured out how to undo Cao Huan’s wide silk belt, and the man laughs shakily when Song Lan pulls it off in the hall and loops the long fabric around his shoulders. He reels Cao Huan back to him, one hand snaking down his stomach, and Cao Huan leans back, resting his head on Song Lan’s shoulder.

“Are you planning to fuck me in the hallway, Captain Song?” he asks, tickling Song Lan’s ear with his breath. He guides Song Lan’s hand lower, and Song Lan groans. “I might let you.”

It’s a measure of how far gone Song Lan is that he considers it before briskly pushing Cao Huan through the door.

Inside, he pulls off his clothes, trembling with need, catching Cao Huan in his arms before he can take off the last layer of thin silk clinging indecently to his body.

“You,” he pants, speaking the words, ignoring the muddy way they leave his mouth, because even signing feels too complicated. “Want you.”

“You may have me,” Cao Huan tells him. “Any way you like.”

It seems impossible, too much for Song Lan to comprehend. The words. The way he looks, waiting on the bed, lips red and swollen. The soft heat of his body when Song Lan slides slick fingers inside him. The way he writhes and moans, shockingly uninhibited.

He was loved, once, Song Lan thinks, stroking his hand down the velvet-soft skin of Cao Huan’s cock. He knows how to respond to love.

“Captain...Song Lan, Lan-er, please,” Cao Huan asks, tugging on Song Lan’s arm, his eyes dark with surrender. “I need you now.”

Song Lan watches Cao Huan’s face as he lifts his hips, fits them together, and slowly presses inside him. He distracts himself from the exquisite pressure and enveloping warmth by marking the change of expressions: a twinge of discomfort, blinking surprise, mouth-open wonder, and finally, as Song Lan starts to move, fevered lust that pierces Song Lan and fixes in his mind, never to be forgotten.

This...the two of them...joined like this...Song Lan hadn’t known he’d been in limbo before, only living in the technical sense of the word. This feels real. For the first time in years, he is more than merely existing. It’s unbearable.

His orgasm is an agonizing spike, sudden and blinding, and he crashes into Cao Huan, clutching at him, touching as much of him as possible, as long as possible until the violent shuddering of his body calms and the pounding of his heart steadies.

And somehow, it’s nowhere near enough.

“Will you...” Song Lan is still not used to this, specifying what he wants. He thinks he must seem pathetic, asking so bluntly, but he can’t stop himself. “Huan-ge, will you fuck me? Please?”

Cao Huan closes his eyes and exhales with a tremulous laugh. “Lan-er, it is all I seem to want to do lately,” he says, even as he is sitting up, shifting Song Lan on his lap, kissing his mouth.

Song Lan is not a small man, and there is something about being adjusted with such little effort that sends shivers hurtling up and down his spine. The anticipation, though, is nothing compared to the actuality of Cao Huan’s fingers between his legs, sticky and wet with lube, slipping inside him smoothly. For a moment, for several moments, he’s certain he’s on the verge of combustion, breaking apart along tiny, ecstatic fractures.

Abruptly, Cao Huan bites Song Lan’s collarbone, the burst of delicious pain bringing the world back into focus. His moan comes out in a keening whimper, and Cao Huan flexes his hand, rubbing against Song Lan and sending shockwaves through him. Song Lan sinks into the relentless pleasure of fingers plunging into him, and he whines when Cao Huan stops, even knowing why, even knowing what’s next.

Cao Huan takes his time, letting Song Lan get used to him, filling him inch by inch.

“Breathe, Lan-er,” he murmurs, kissing the side of his mouth, and Song Lan takes a ragged, hoarse breath.

And another as Cao Huan twitches his hips.

And another as Cao Huan pushes the rest of the way into him.  

Song Lan had forgotten—how could he have forgotten—this particular surge of feeling, of being so consumed by desire that there’s nothing else, no other thoughts to have. He rocks with Cao Huan, captured by the cadence of his thrusts, his mouth, his hands.

Cao Huan gasps out his name like a plea for mercy, “Lan-er, fuck, Lan-er,” before slamming into him with the force of his climax, and Song Lan cries out too, not wanting it to end.

Cao Huan leans against Song Lan’s chest, panting, and Song Lan kisses the top of his head. Then his ear. Then his nose. Then his mouth. Cao Huan flops back onto the bed, arms and legs akimbo.

“I...I do not know exactly what to say,” he mumbles.

Song Lan wants to laugh. What is there to say? Thank you for the mind-blowing sex?

Actually…

He lays down next to Cao Huan and rests a hand over his heart, feeling its fluttering drumbeat.

Thank you, he draws on Cao Huan’s chest. Thank you for making me feel again.

Their room doesn’t have a dedicated bathroom, but it has a sink. Song Lan eventually gets up to clean himself off and wets a cloth for Cao Huan. He grins when Cao Huan tries to take it away from him and cleans Cao Huan too, kissing the curve of his stomach, the ridge of his hip, the tops of his thighs, as he goes.

“My turn next time,” Cao Huan says with a no-arguments tone of voice. Song Lan doesn’t hate the promise of a next time.

He only barely finishes before the lassitude catches up to him, and he yawns as he climbs under the covers, snuggling against Cao Huan. He shouldn’t be tired—it’s the middle of the day—but it’s safe and warm here, and Song Lan decides to enjoy this moment too. He traces the arch of Cao Huan’s eyebrow and the bow of his mouth, smiling when Cao Huan nibbles his finger.

Song Lan closes his eyes and lets himself rest.

It’s still day when he wakes, according to the clock, and Cao Huan is up, dressing in his new clothes that do nothing to disguise his distinctiveness. He pulls his hair back into a ponytail, and Song Lan’s stomach flops appreciatively.

“You’re still gorgeous,” he signs, and Cao Huan shakes his head.

“You may be biased,” he retorts.

“True,” Song Lan agrees, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching. “But I thought that before I saw you naked.”

He grabs Cao Huan around the waist, and Cao Huan rewards him with a lingering kiss.

“I...I am going to meditate in the gardens. Will…” he sounds so hesitant, and Song Lan tips his head curiously. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.” Song Lan has no idea why Cao Huan is anxious about meditation, which seems innocuous, which Song Lan has heard him do nearly every night since they started this journey, but it’s easy to say yes to Cao Huan.

“Thank you,” he says, touching Song Lan’s face before picking up his guqin. “And then dinner?”

Song Lan’s stomach objects loudly. “Dinner first?” he asks hopefully, and Cao Huan laughs.

“Dinner first.”

Dinner ends up being another kaleidoscope of vendor foods, from meat wrapped in thin pancakes to vegetables fried in spicy batter to skewers of soft chicken and potatoes.

Song Lan finds his favorite dessert, layered frozen fruit bars, and he hands a watermelon lime bar to Cao Huan. Cao Huan’s eyes widen at the sweet and sour taste, and when he finishes, Song Lan hands him a different flavor, the second one melting faster than he can finish it.

“I should have waited to give you that until we were alone,” Song Lan signs, and Cao Huan tips his head.

“Why?” he asks around a bite of what looks like mango and tajin.

“Because I want to lick it off you,” Song Lan grins.

Cao Huan blinks slowly and smiles. “You may,” he agrees, tilting his head back.

Song Lan had always known that what he felt with Xingchen was unique, the ease and willingness of touch and affection, and he’d never expected to find it with anyone else. But when he touches his lips to Cao Huan’s now, surrounded by an almost overwhelming number of people, tasting the spice and tang, he is honestly not sure he can stop at only the kiss. Cao Huan hums in his throat and Song Lan hastily pulls away from the temptation. After meditation. He can surely be patient and wait until after meditation.

The gardens aren’t empty. Workers are picking fruits and vegetables, and visitors are wandering down the pathways. It’s amazing how much this space adds to Rogue Sky, Song Lan thinks. Every station should have one.

Cao Huan settles on the floor in a quiet corner of the deck facing the wall, and Song Lan sits across from him. Cao Huan gives him an uncertain smile before closing his eyes and setting  his fingers to the guqin. Song Lan breathes in and out slowly, counting in rhythm with Cao Huan’s breath, finding the quiet space inside him before Cao Huan starts to play.

The sound of the instrument is even more spectacular here, twining through the trees and echoing in the high ceiling. It seems like this was what the guqin was meant for: open spaces and, Song Lan notices, a growing crowd.

To their credit, the people are polite at first, just walking closer, standing nearby without obviously watching, but it doesn’t take long for them to congregate. He can’t blame them. Cao Huan isn’t just playing the guqin, he’s speaking with it, telling a story with it, the music unfolding in a heart-wrenching requiem.

He plays for so long, a single, unbroken stream of sound. Song Lan can almost hear the words, not soothing as he expects meditation to be, but mournful, tearing Song Lan apart with every note. He sees Qingyang in their audience, tears streaming down her face, and he wonders who she’s thinking of, if it’s someone specific or everyone they’ve lost.

Without warning, Cao Huan pushes the guqin away and in a fluid, graceful movement, stands and stalks away through his audience without a backward glance.

Song Lan packs up the guqin—he has no idea what he’s doing, but thankfully, it’s not that complicated—and, with a shrug to Qingyang, heads back to the empty room.

It doesn’t take as long as he expects for Cao Huan to find his way back. Song Lan is sitting on the bed, knitting a sock cuff, when he comes in the door. He flicks a smile at Cao Huan before going back to counting the ribbing repeats, trying to give him whatever space he needs, even here in this small room.

Cao Huan hovers by the door for a few minutes, and Song Lan pretends he doesn’t see the indecision and fear on his face.

“I can not seem to make the guqin do anything but weep anymore,” he finally says, and Song Lan sets down his knitting.

“You are entitled to your feelings,” he signs.

Cao Huan frowns. “What if I am not?”

There doesn’t seem to be an answer to that. Song Lan stands up and carefully kisses Cao Huan’s forehead. “You are. Even if they don’t make sense.”

Cao Huan sighs and rests his head on Song Lan’s shoulder, muffling his words. “What if I did something terrible? Unforgivable, even?”

We’ve all done terrible things, Song Lan thinks, but he isn’t sure if that’s actually true. Maybe other people have lived normal lives and never needed to seek revenge. Justice, he reminds himself. It was justice.

Song Lan smooths a hand up Cao Huan’s back, mapping the dips and ridges, tracing a path around his shoulder blade. He settles it against the nape of Cao Huan’s neck and rubs the tense muscle there.

“You are too good to me, Captain Song,” Cao Huan mumbles, and Song Lan huffs, a single sound of disbelief. Kindness has not been forefront in his thoughts recently.

“Would you be so kind if I’d killed someone?”

The words hang in the air, and Song Lan can feel Cao Huan’s body still, waiting, ready...to run? Ready to fight?

Song Lan rests his other hand on the center of Cao Huan’s back, massaging his thumb in a reassuring circle, a circle that means yes, I would, before he moves away just enough to sign.

“I killed someone—the man who took my voice and killed my partner, my love. He was a hired assassin, only doing his job, but I hunted him down and killed him anyway.”

He searches Cao Huan’s face for shock or censure, but all he finds is understanding, an ever-blooming field of empathy, and it’s a relief, such a relief to admit this vicious secret, the worst thing he’s ever done.

“I don’t regret it. If I could have killed his patron, I would have. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would kill without reason, but even if you are, it’s your choice to let it consume you or make peace with yourself.”

There’s so much else Song Lan could say. That he’d planned to kill Xiandu, even though the assassin claimed the hit hadn’t been his order. That he cried when he learned the man was dead; he hadn’t cared how it had happened, only that it had. That he’d been drunk for days afterward, both in relief he did understand and despair he didn’t. That peace is a daily battle.

Cao Huan leans into Song Lan, hugging him around the waist. When he finally does speak again, his words are small and brittle eggshells.

“I loved him, and I hated him. And yet, killing him is not the most unforgivable thing I have done. What is unforgivable is that I did not do it sooner. What is unforgivable is that I love him still. And hate him still. What is unforgivable is that I am allowed...expected...to go on with my life as though I did nothing wrong.”

The last words break away in a bitter snap, and Song Lan frowns. He sits Cao Huan down on the bed and crouches down to look at him, at the tear streaks on his cheeks. Gently, he dabs them with his sleeve.

“Huan-ge. You and I get to live with our mistakes. You and I are alive to forgive ourselves and the people we loved. It’s not unforgiveable to live.”

He only half believes it himself, but he hopes if he says it enough, eventually it’ll be true.

Cao Huan doesn’t look convinced either, but he touches Song Lan’s face, and it seems to steady him. The tears stop falling, at least.

“I...I…” He tries to say something and fails. A wan smile flutters over his lips, barely long enough for Song Lan to be sure it was ever there. “You are good, Lan-er.” The smile tries again and sticks this time, slow and resolute, and it reaches the deepest places inside Song Lan, places he has tried to close off. “Thank you.”

When they finally go to bed, it’s only to sleep. Although, with Cao Huan’s fingers fitted between his, Cao Huan’s legs tangled together with his, “only” doesn’t seem like a fair word for the way it feels to sense a new planet forming around him, and Song Lan is afraid he doesn’t know how to face the swiftly shifting landscape of his life.

[morsquiesa]

𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐀 𝐃𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐎: 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒, 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘.

Since it is mentioned that Bianca has children, I thought it would be the time to elaborate on Bianca’s family since I realized my blog lacks the content. So up until to the point where Bianca resigns from the hunters and starts working for Hades as an ambassador, there are three alternate paths for her that I adore. 

The first possibility is the most independent and ready to explore verse for Bianca, which is the one where after her resign, Bianca never properly returns to the surface again to live there, and over time becomes a permanent member of the underworld. I am looking forward to developing this path, because I find it quite interesting to study how Bianca makes herself a place in the underworld, what kind of a dynamic she has with Hades and Persephone, what kind of dynamics she has with the other residents and deities, what kind of a part she plays in the order of things and formation. In this option, the only family Bianca has left is her brother, Nico di Angelo, but since her joining to the hunters of Artemis their relationship is strained and they don’t talk to each other, so him making an appearance is going to be rare in the threads and mentions of him won’t be joyful ones. ( I will write another meta post about this, so it’s a more detailed conversation for later.) Her relationship with her mother, Maria di Angelo, is also another long topic that I will talk about in a different post. But to sum it up, she has no family members she is actively talking to or has good relationship with.  

  The second alternate is the same as the first one, but Bianca keeps living on the surface instead of moving in to the underworld for good. She is still not talking to Nico, she is refusing to live in the camp. ( Another meta post.) She has an apartment in New Manhattan that Hades blessed with protection for her, so when she is not on duty she is hanging out in New York. I don’t use this verse a lot, to be honest, because it is an incredibly lonely one for her. This is mostly for my mutuals with demigod or mortal muses to make it easier to interact with her. This is the most under-developed alternate. This version of Bianca is going to be hardest to talk to, because she has burned a lot of bridges and she deals with a severe sense of loneliness and feels lost as she tries to figure out where she belongs in the world she doesn’t recognize, existential and identity crisis hitting hard and heavy. In the means of family, she leans into Hades the most in this verse, because she doesn’t have anyone else left. 

 The third, also known as the most developed and softest alternate, affiliated with @mvndrvke​​ and @nosestealer​. This acts like the continuation of the second alternate, because Bianca spends three years living that lonely life in Manhattan before Hades calls Bianca and Nico for a mission in the underworld. Doors of death are missing once again, and they enter the labyrinth together to find it, and it is no easy feat going into one of the most dangerous places in the world with a sibling by your side you haven’t talked to in years unless you didn’t have to, when you’ve gone no contact after a terrible separation. Ghosts were seen, old books were opened, harsh things were said, some terrible truths unrevealed, but after two weeks ( which equaled to a few months in the world ) in the labyrinth, they come out of it with amends to make, and Nico asks Bianca to move in with him into the camp,. Bianca hesitates because he already has a stable life he tried so hard to built with a loving relationship and caring friends, but she eventually accepts because they both know they will have to get through the awkwardness and heal the wounds they’ve been avoiding for so long if they want to make actual progress. In my opinion, if it wasn’t for Nico they could never get anywhere because Bianca wouldn’t take the first step with the fear of rejection especially when Nico didn’t need her anymore with his ‘ picture perfect life ’ so shout out to Luna for Nico’s maturity. In 22th of March, 2014, at the age of eighteen, Bianca move into the camp with her brother to open a new page, and it’s when things start get better for her. ( Nico is now nineteen, a year older than her, and he never lets her live it down.)

It does get better, but also, things are painful for a long while because that’s what happens when you try to reconnect with a sibling when you are both dysfunctional with a lot of layers of miscommunication to fix: you fight. A lot. But despite these fights, Bianca meets Will Solace, who is Nico’s boyfriend at the time, then Cecil Markowitz ( mvndrvke ) and Lou Ellen Blackstone ( nosestealer ) , who are his best friends. Her expectations of them are low at first, because obviously they are Nico’s friends and she imagines the mentions of her wasn’t the brightest so she expects a judgmental approach. But oh boy, is she wrong. With Lou Ellen’s kindness, Cecil’s compassion and Will’s deep sympathy, Bianca finds herself the first family she’s ever had since the hunters.

Now, let’s talk about other good things that happened during this year. Cecil Markowitz is a good friend, he is the shoulder she seeks to cry on, he is the biggest reason of her bright smile, but a good friend is not the only thing he is to her. With his unapologetic kindness towards the world, his sense of security in who he is and who he wants to be, his relentless compassion and with the promise of safety he gives to Bianca by being by her side even when she makes it hard to be, Bianca falls in love for the first time in her life. It is both an endearing and funny process to watch her try to figure out what to do with this new feeling, because she’s never been in love before and she’s took an oath for eternal maidenhood when she joined the hunters of Artemis, and pushed aside the thought. So this is completely new territory, especially she knows for a fact that even Cecil feels the same way she does ( which she is pretty sure that he doesn’t ) she doesn’t think she can provide a kind of relationship he would expect, whatever that it would be- she doesn’t know how to date, and she definitely doesn’t know the 21th century. Also, Cecil is one of Nico’s best friends and the panic of ruining the dynamics she’s tried so hard to built is really there. So this feeling goes unspoken of for a year and a half, until it starts to seep from the cracks and eventually the truth is forced out there- and she is not the only one to blame, because Cecil has his own confessions to make. After an intense argument filled with panic and fear, the day ends with a kiss and mumbled “ I love you’s. 21st August 2015 marks the date as their anniversary, and they still celebrate it. Lou Ellen finds out first, then Will, and they are both ecstatic about it, which makes Bianca feel better. They hide it from Nico for a few months, giving themselves a while to see if they can make it work or not until Nico learns in a traumatizing way and never lets them live it down. But eventually he is happy with the outcome too, and is supportive of their relationship when he is not bullying them for it.

 From that point on, it’s tooth rotting sweet Biancecil romance. After Bianca makes sure her bond with Nico is solid enough to remain steady and strong even when she moves out, she asks Cecil to move in with her to Manhattan. They both have their own reasons for not wanting to be a part of the camp any longer ( Bianca doesn’t feel accepted because in her opinion she’s never earned the justification to exist there with heroic actions like Nico did, and the stigma with hunters of Artemis is strong, even when they are former. Cecil struggles with belonging because he’s fought in the Kronos’ Army in the First Titan War. ) so after a year spent in Long Island, they move into her apartment in Manhattan. This is the first home they share together, and Bianca still holds those memories dear to her heart. They spend another year there, with Bianca keeping up the ambassador work, and they are traveling the world together, going on dates anywhere in the map they wish. A while later city of New Athens is completed, and they move there, buying a nice house and finally setting roots. After Cecil’s 22th birthday celebration in Lisbon, Bianca decides he is the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. With a very romantic proposal in 16th December 2017, they get engaged. At the age of 23 and 24, they say their vows with their dream wedding in 19th May 2018. 

This continuation upsets me, because just after a year of their marriage, Cecil dies in the entrance of New Athens with the attack of Lamia. His date of death marks as 3rd May 2019, and Bianca is devastated. Nico goes out to hunt Lamia where Bianca does the funeral rites of her husband according to his wishes, then she goes to the underworld. She’s lost so much in her life, she refuses to mourn him too. I want my husband back, she tells Hades. And I am going to get him back. While Hades doesn’t approve at first, with the pressure from Nico and Bianca he reveals a way. There is a ritual she can make to bring his soul and his body intact. She needs a red carnation from Persephone, Cecil’s thread of life from the fates, Orpheus’ lyre, blessing of Hades, their wedding rings, and with the possession she cares the most about. Bianca disappears from the face of earth with only Nico knowing what she is doing, and she starts her quest to search for these items. She sometimes visits her mother-in-law and checks on her, but she is the only person she sees except for Will and Lou in a few rare occasion. She completes this quest in eighteen months, a year and a half, and she brings Cecil back from the underworld 8th December, 2020.

 Their life is not the same as they’ve left it, and while they are going through difficult times, they hold onto each other. While Luna and I haven’t decided on the exact dates, after a while spent in New Athens Cecil takes Bianca to a vacation in Cape Cod, and that’s where he proposes to her again to renew their vows, and gives her a list of houses he would live to buy for them from the area. At the age of twenty-five, they sell their house in New Athens and move into Cape Cod to build themselves a life there, a life they quite enjoy. Bianca is retired from ambassadorship, leaving her place to Achilles ( mvndrvke ) and taking interest in living off her retirement plan with caring for her garden at home. Cecil turns one of the rooms into his art studio and work there, and also work as the art teacher in the neighborhood elementary school. After many struggles and many discussions, they decide to carry on with their original plan of having children before he died. Their firstborn, tiny daughter Ludovica Ranieri Markowitz is born when Bianca is twenty-seven. She is named Ludovica because of Bianca’s fondness of the name, and Ranieri after her uncle, Nico ( it’s his middle name ). At the age of thirty, their son Alexander Steven Markowitz joins the family. He is named Alexander after his father, Cecil ( it’s his middle name ) and Steven after cap america on Cecil’s request. ( Don’t worry, Bianca made fun of him for it already.) Now they are enjoying their life being old, disgustingly in love, caring for their children and hosting great events at their house. Lou, Will and Nico are still a big part of their lives.

[calumcest]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter one

[ao3]

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. 

“What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns.

“What’s my what?”

“Your tattoo.”

-

another soulmate au...but this time its ANGSTY (but dont worry it will end happy because i am me)

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. 

Almost everyone wakes up for a few minutes at around three-thirty a.m., feeling a strange burning sensation in some square inch of their body. Almost everyone rubs sleepily at the patch of skin - wrist, bicep, shoulder, hip - rolls over, and goes back to sleep. 

Some people, of course, are already awake when it happens, and some people wake up and don’t go back to sleep. Those are the ones who start shooting off confused questions on social media, comparing tattoos, trying to figure out what they mean. A few people start theorising - mine reminds me of my wife, they say, or, mine reminds me of my first love, and by the time the rest of Australia wakes up, the theories have ballooned from maybe they’re to do with someone you need to reconnect with to this is a clear sign from the government that they’ve placed chips in our minds and know what we’re thinking about. 

Australia is the first major country to get them. As Tuesday rolls into Wednesday across the globe, more and more people’s thighs, forearms and ankles start to burn, until, by the time it gets to LA, people are buzzing with anticipation, almost the entire country awake at three-thirty in the morning, waiting for their tattoos. 

Luke doesn’t notice his immediately. He sleeps like the fucking dead, so he hadn’t even woken up in the middle of the night like most people, and he wakes up late for work so doesn’t have time to check his phone for the fifty billion messages he’s received overnight until he’s made it onto the train, panting as he flops into an empty seat opposite an elderly lady. She gives him a warm smile, which Luke thinks is a little strange, but he returns it slightly tentatively, pulling his phone out to avoid any further eye contact. 

His phone lights up before he even touches it, and Luke frowns as he sees new messages appearing every few minutes. On top of the messages, he’s got seventeen missed calls from Michael, twenty-five from his mum, three from his dad, and even some from Jack and Ben. 

He unlocks his phone and heads for the messages app, barely managing to open the group chat with Michael and Calum before his phone is lighting up with Michael ringing him again. 

“What?” he hisses, as quietly as he can, throwing an apologetic look at the lady opposite him. “I’m on the train.” 

“What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns. 

“What’s my what?” 

“Your tattoo.” Luke blinks. 

“Are you alright, Mike?” he says. “You know I don’t have any tattoos.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Michael says, now sounding incredulous over the staticky phone line. “Have you not, like, looked at your phone? Seen the news? Spoken to a single person?” 

“I woke up late,” Luke says, a little defensively, even though he doesn’t really think he needs to defend not looking at his phone for an hour while he showered, dressed, made breakfast, sprinted to the station.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael says, and Luke can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Trust you to sleep through something like this.” 

“Through what?”

“Everyone got a tattoo last night,” Michael says. Luke hesitates for a moment, and then rolls his eyes.

“Mike, I’m not that gullible,” he says. “I think even I’d wake up if a tattoo artist broke into my house overnight.” 

“I’m not joking,” Michael says impatiently. 

“Where are they, then?” Luke says, slightly amused. 

“Mine’s on my elbow,” Michael says. “But everyone has them in different places.” 

“Right,” Luke says. “That’s convenient. Is this just a ploy to try and get me to strip naked on public transport and embarrass myself?” 

“Why do you never believe anything I say?” Michael says indignantly. 

“You’ve never given me much reason to,” Luke says. There’s a beat, and then-

“Yeah, that’s fair enough,” Michael says. 

“What’s yours, then?” Luke asks, because he might as well humour Michael. 

“It’s, uh,” Michael says, cagily. There’s a moment’s pause, and when it becomes obvious Luke’s waiting for an answer, he says quietly: “Duke?” 

“Duke?” Luke says, because he cannot have heard that properly. “Like, Calum’s dog Duke?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, sounding a little nervous. Luke rolls his eyes. Obviously Michael’s just picked the first fucking thing that came to mind.

“Right,” Luke says. “Not really doing yourself any favours on convincing me this isn’t just a massive joke, Mike.” Michael makes a small noise somewhere between outrage and embarrassment. 

“Check the fucking news, then, arsehole,” he says, and then there’s a beep and he’s hung up. Luke removes the phone from his ear, screen back on the group chat where Calum’s still sending messages, and clicks out and onto his news app. 

He’s immediately confronted with approximately thirty-seven articles about tattoos. Blurry pictures of people’s tattoos, clips of news anchors showing their tattoos to the camera, interviews with people who claim they know what the tattoos mean, interviews with medical officials who are telling people to stay calm, the tattoos don’t appear to be dangerous. Luke’s first reaction is to bring down his notification bar and check the date - okay, May the seventh, so this isn’t an April Fool’s. It might be a late April Fool’s, though, he thinks.  

“He’s not lying to you,” someone says suddenly, and Luke’s head jolts up to see the old lady opposite him smiling at him benignly. 

“Uh, sorry,” he says, “what d’you mean?” 

“Your friend,” she says, “Mike? He’s not lying. Everybody got a tattoo last night.” She rolls her sleeve up to expose a frail, wrinkled arm, and right there, in the middle of her forearm, is a tattoo of a policeman’s hat. 

“That was my late husband’s identification number,” she says, pointing to the number underneath the hat. 

“Oh,” Luke says, because he has absolutely no idea what the appropriate response to everybody got a tattoo last night, by the way, here’s mine of my late husband’s police hat and identification number is. The lady smiles at him again, and rolls her sleeve back down. 

“You should look for yours,” she says knowingly, like she understands this whole tattoo situation. Luke opens his mouth, although he’s not really sure what he’s about to say - thank you? Piss off? What sort of a fucking alternate universe am I living in? - but then the train doors open and he looks outside and realises this is his stop. 

“This is my stop,” he says, thankful that this incredibly uncomfortable conversation is over. “Have a nice day?” He’s not really sure why he phrases it as a question, but he doesn’t have time to think about it, grabbing his bag and coat and just about making it off the train without getting decapitated by the closing doors. 

What a weird fucking start to the day, he thinks, as he starts towards the ticket barriers, but upon realising he’s left his season ticket at home all thoughts of a tattoo leave his mind. 

 ------- 

 The first person Luke sees when he gets into the office is Calum. He’s wearing a scarf indoors, which strikes Luke as a little strange, but he doesn’t have time to ask because as soon as Luke walks into the room, Calum rounds on him.  

“Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” he demands immediately. 

“Jesus Christ,” Luke groans as he throws himself into his chair. “Not you too.” 

“What?” 

“Mike rang me trying to convince me to get naked on the train because apparently someone tattooed me in my sleep last night,” Luke says, powering up his desktop. Calum gapes at him. 

“Are you telling me you haven’t seen yours yet?” he asks in disbelief. 

“What? Cal, are you fucking serious?” Luke says, annoyed. He might be gullible, but he’s not that gullible. “I’m not falling for this shit.” 

“Have you checked the news?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says, swivelling in his chair to face Calum as he waits for his computer to turn on. “It’s got to be some kind of joke. A late April Fool’s, I dunno.” Calum stares at him as though he’s just said the sky is green, or All Time Low are a bad band, or something. 

“Are you insane?” he asks incredulously. 

“Alright, show me your fucking tattoo, then,” Luke says sarcastically. Calum hesitates. 

“I don’t want to,” he says shiftily, after a moment.  

“Right,” Luke says smugly. “See?” 

“See what?”

“Mike came up with some bullshit too,” Luke says. “Said his was fucking Duke.” Calum stares at him for a moment. 

“Wait,” he says, and he sounds a little strangled. “Duke? Like, my dog?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says pointedly, in what he hopes is a I’m not that stupid kind of tone. 

“Oh,” Calum says, and now he sounds somewhere between frightened and elated. Luke cocks his head, frowning. 

“What?” he asks. 

“It’s just…” Calum trails off, and shrugs. 

“What?” Calum bites his lip, and then tugs the scarf down. 

There, inked on the side of Calum’s neck, is a Gibson guitar with six numbers on it: 201195. It takes Luke a minute to put two and two together, but after realising it doesn’t say 2011-95 but 20-11-95, it suddenly makes sense. That’s Michael’s guitar, and that’s Michael’s birthday. 

“Oh,” he says, and now he’s just confused. “Why the fuck did you get Michael’s guitar tattooed on your neck?” Calum lets go of the scarf and it snaps back up, covering the tattoo again. 

“I didn’t,” he says. “It appeared last night.” 

“Well, where’s mine, then?” Luke asks sceptically, looking down at his hands and turning them over and over, like a tattoo is suddenly going to appear. 

“I don’t know,” Calum says. “Andy’s was on his arse.” Luke stares at him. 

“I’m not getting my arse out in the office,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Go to the fucking toilet,” he says. Luke stands up, because it seems like until he plays into this elaborate prank it’s not going to end, and then stops. 

“Wait,” he says. “What if it is on my arse?” 

“Then it’s on your arse,” Calum says, sounding a little nonplussed. It’s Luke’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“I won’t be able to see it,” he says, hoping Calum will get the hint. Calum stares at him for a moment, then shrugs, and stands up. 

“I hope it’s on your dick,” he says, with a grin. 

“Fuck you,” Luke says, as they walk to the toilet opposite their office. Luke pushes open the door to the first cubicle, and then pauses. “Wait, is it going to look weird if we’re in a cubicle together?”

“Probably,” Calum says, but he follows Luke into the cubicle anyway, closing the door behind him. 

It’s cramped with Calum in there too, and they shuffle around each other for a moment before Calum hops onto the toilet and gets out of Luke’s way, leaving him to take his jacket off and then fiddle with his shirt buttons. 

“This is the world’s worst strip-tease,” Calum comments after a moment, and Luke scowls at him. 

“Dickhead,” he says, and then, having finally removed his shirt, he turns around to hang it on the hook on the back of the door. That’s when Calum gasps. 

“It’s, uh. It’s on your back,” he says, and he sounds a little worried. Luke twists, trying to see. 

“What?” he says, because he’s not that flexible. “Where?”

“On your shoulderblade,” Calum says, pointing, as if it’ll help. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke can see a crease of concern between Calum’s brows. 

“I can’t see,” Luke says grumpily. 

“Hang on, I’ll take a picture,” Calum says, standing up and fishing his phone out of his pocket. Luke stands still for a moment, until he reckons Calum must have taken the picture, then turns around. Calum hesitates for a moment, then thrusts the phone at Luke. 

Luke sees his skin, pale and freckled, broken up by dark black ink. It’s a strangely beautiful tattoo, a bird carrying what looks like some kind of stick in front of a waning moon. It reminds him a bit of two of his ex’s tattoos, actually - he had some kind of bird on his neck, and a bunch of moons on his forearms.

It’s that thought that’s on his mind as he looks over the picture again, and his eyes fall on the stick. 

It’s a drumstick. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Luke says, and he suddenly feels sick. No fucking way has he woken up with his first ever tattoo, and it’s something to do with Ashton. “Fuck. Calum, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this is a fucking prank.” Calum looks at him like he wishes he could tell Luke it was a prank, and shakes his head slowly. 

Luke feels his knees give out, falling to the cold tile floor hard. 

“It comes off, right?” he says, an edge of panic in his voice. Calum looks at him again, and then shakes his head again. “Cal, please. I- I can’t have a tattoo to do with Ashton.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Calum says, eyes sincere and sad. 

“What does it mean?” Luke asks. Calum shrugs helplessly. 

“No one knows,” he says. 

“But you have Michael,” Luke says desperately, “and Michael’s got you.” Calum hesitates, and then shrugs again. 

“I don’t know, Luke,” he says gently. 

“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,” Luke says, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything. 

“Maybe,” Calum echoes, but he doesn’t sound sure at all. 

 -------

 It takes three months before it’s decided what they are. 

A huge number of studies are done in that time. Calum and Michael themselves volunteer for one, because apparently not everybody knows what - or who - theirs refers to. Some people turn out to have no tattoo, and it seems like people are only getting their tattoos on their eighteenth birthdays. It’s the only topic in the news for that entire time - the only topic of conversation, the only topic Luke encounters fucking anywhere.

He’s grateful his tattoo is on his shoulderblade, so it’s mostly hidden, because he sees everybody sneaking furtive glances at people’s necks, hands, forearms, collarbones, anywhere with visible tattoos. He dodges questions about what his tattoo is from everybody but Calum, Michael, and his family, because the words rise like bile in his throat - it’s Ashton. 

(“Oh, Luke,” Michael says sadly, when Luke tells him, and pulls him into the tightest hug Luke thinks he’s ever had.)

(“Oh, Luke,” his mum says sadly, when Luke tells her, sigh broken up by the static of the phone line.) 

(“Oh, Luke,” Jack and Ben say simultaneously on their group call, a moment of tense, awkward, sad silence hanging between them for a moment afterwards.) 

After three months, though, there’s a huge press conference. They’ve worked out what they are, the authorities say, and they’re going to do a televised conference announcing it and explaining how they reached that conclusion. 

Of course, the whole world is on tenterhooks. They do it in Europe, because it’s deemed the easiest timezone for everybody to work around, so Luke finds himself wedged between Michael and Calum on Calum’s sofa at eleven p.m., biting his nails almost obsessively. 

Michael and Calum aren’t speaking much, either. Luke’s not really sure it was the best move for them to be together while finding out what their tattoos about each other mean, but frankly, he’s too focused on finding out what his tattoo means to worry about them. 

At two minutes past eleven, researchers begin to file into the panel in front of the audience of journalists, world leaders standing behind them. It looks almost comical, Luke thinks a little hysterically, a row of men and women in lab coats to highlight their authority on the matter, the world’s most powerful people standing solemnly behind them. Some of their tattoos are visible too, but Luke’s too caught up willing time to move faster so he can finally fucking find out what having a tattoo about Ashton on his shoulderblade means. 

At four minutes past eleven, they start speaking. There’s about five minutes of preamble that Luke can’t follow, lots of words like hypothesis and methodology washing over him, and then the researcher sitting in the middle of the panel clears his throat, pushes his glasses up his nose, and takes a deep breath. 

“From these international, rigorously conducted studies of large portions of different populations, we have concluded,” he says, and nobody breathes. This is the moment. Luke’s heart seems to be trying to get his daily quota’s worth of heartbeats into a single second. “We have concluded that these tattoos appear to be soulmate markings.” 

Luke hears nothing that he says after that. 

Soulmate markings. The words echo in his mind, bouncing off every cell in his brain. 

It can’t be right, Luke thinks desperately, as he watches the panellists take questions from journalists but doesn’t hear the words they say. Ashton’s not his soulmate. There’s no such thing as soulmates, and if there were, Luke’s wouldn’t be the first man who had ever truly broken his heart, who had left him almost incapable of carrying on, who had brought him so fucking close to the precipice. 

He’d thought Ashton had been it, back then. He’d thought that he’d been so lucky to find the guy he wanted to marry so young in life. And then, three years later, Ashton had turned around one day, ashen-faced, and told him he didn’t love him anymore. 

That had been it. Luke’s world, Luke’s mind, Luke’s heart, had broken. 

So there’s no fucking way, no fucking way, that Ashton can be Luke’s soulmate. Luke’s soulmate wouldn’t have fallen out of love with him. Luke’s soulmate would never have pushed him so close to never seeing another birthday again. Luke’s soulmate wouldn’t leave him. 

Luke’s so caught up in the sickness that’s washed over him, hands trembling, freezing and sweaty, that he doesn’t realise what this means for Michael and Calum until a noise pulls him back to reality harshly. It’s Calum, clearing his throat. 

“Well,” he says, and he sounds weirdly high-pitched, and suddenly Luke thinks, shit. Calum and Michael are soulmates. 

“Yep,” Michael says, equally high-pitched and slightly choked. 

“Oh,” Luke puts in, because fuck, Calum and Michael are soulmates. 

“Oh,” Calum says, like he’s just remembered Luke’s there, and then there’s two sets of arms around Luke, warm and vanilla and mint and pine. 

“Oh, Luke,” Michael says, and he sounds so sad that Luke’s heart breaks all over again. 

Neither of them say anything more, because there’s so much to say that picking any one thing would be doing everything else an injustice.

 -------

 Luke does nothing about it for five weeks. 

Michael and Calum don’t say anything about it either, not wanting to push, but Luke’s getting kind of sick of the wary looks they send in his direction, of the whispered conversations that stop as soon as he walks into the room. They’ve fallen into it so easily that it chokes Luke up when he sees them, easy touches and glances that they’ve always had but have somehow taken on a new meaning. 

(“When did you know?” Luke asks Calum one night over the phone, staring up at his ceiling. 

“That I was in love with him?” Calum asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve always known,” Calum says, and Luke’s heart hurts because he’s so happy for them, he is, but he’s so fucking miserable.) 

He jumps every time he gets a text for the first few weeks, thinking it might be Ashton, and filled with both relief and a little bit of disappointment when it never is. His mum doesn’t ask, and neither does his dad, and nor do Jack and Ben, and he loves them all for it. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he hates the way it hangs, thick and solid in the air between them all every time he calls. 

Five weeks is when he breaks. 

He’s in the toilet at work, sat fully-clothed on the closed toilet seat, practically hyperventilating as he types, erases, types, erases. 

Hey. I know we haven’t spoken in years-

Hey. I know we haven’t spoken in a while-

Hi. It’s Luke. 

Hi. It’s Luke (Hemmings).

It feels fucking awful still, even after a few years have passed, to see Ashton Irwin staring at him at the top of the screen, not the stupid inside joke contact name he’d had for the entirety of their relationship. It feels fucking awful typing so formally. It feels fucking awful not knowing what to say to someone who used to know Luke better than anyone else. The whole thing feels fucking awful. 

Eventually, when he’s been sat on the toilet for so long his arse is starting to go numb, he just types two words. 

What’s yours? 

He puts his phone back in his pocket, unlocks the cubicle with shaking fingers, and goes to wash his hands, because otherwise it’ll look like he’s incredibly unhygienic. 

His phone buzzes as he’s drying his hands, and his heart lurches. He hastily wipes his hands on his trousers, fumbling with trembling fingers with his phone and nearly throwing up when he sees Ashton Irwin flashing up on his screen. 

Ashton Irwin It’s you. 

 ------- 

 Luke sits on the information for two days before telling Michael and Calum. 

They’re at Michael’s, sitting on the sofa eating pizza (or, at least, Michael and Calum are eating pizza - Luke’s half-heartedly prodding at his), and Calum and Michael are having some kind of a heated squabble about whether tuna on pizza is acceptable or not, and Luke just blurts it out. 

“I texted Ashton,” he says suddenly, and both Michael and Calum stop, dead still. 

“You- what?” Michael says, after a few (incredibly strained) seconds have passed. 

“I texted Ashton,” Luke repeats, mumbling this time. He’s gazing intently at his pizza, mostly to avoid looking at Calum or Michael. 

“Did he reply?” Calum asks. 

“Yeah,” Luke says. Both Michael and Calum inhale sharply. 

“What did he say?” Michael asks. Luke swallows. He doesn’t think he can say it out loud. 

“I-” he starts, but cuts himself off, the words too heavy for his tongue to handle. He shakes his head instead, fishing for his phone in his pocket, and chucks it over to Calum, who catches it deftly. Michael leans over as Calum types in Luke’s passcode - his birthday, because he’s too stupid to remember any other date - and there’s a moment of tension, of bated breath, as they wait for the message to load. 

Luke knows when they’ve seen it because both of their faces contort into the same expression, somewhere between worry, confusion, fear, concern and sympathy. 

“Fuck,” Michael says, staring at Luke almost hesitantly, like he’s about to implode. 

“Are you okay?” Calum asks quietly. Luke shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, because he doesn’t. He’s over Ashton, he is, but he’s never going to forgive or forget the way Ashton left him, the way he broke him and swept away, not even glancing at the pieces of Luke he left in his wake. Ashton can’t be his soulmate. 

“That’s okay,” Calum says, calm and reassuring. “It’s okay to not know.” 

“It’s just a tattoo,” Michael says. “Tattoos can’t tell you who to love.” 

It makes Luke feel a little better. 

 -------

 He doesn’t text Ashton again. 

In fact, he’s almost succeeded in pushing Ashton into a corner of his mind again, shoving him back into the Do Not Open box that this tattoo business had let him out of, when his phone buzzes in the middle of the night a week later. 

He reaches over groggily, aiming to turn off whatever it is that’s lighting up his screen and sending vibrations resonating through his bedside table, but wakes up with a shot of adrenaline when he sees the name lighting up his screen. 

Ashton Irwin We should probably talk about this. 

Luke sits bolt upright in bed, palms suddenly sweating. The only thing he can think to do is unlock his phone and dial Michael, knowing he’ll be up, even though it’s two a.m. 

“What?” Michael asks, sounding slightly irked. Luke can hear clicking in the background, so it’s probably a safe bet that he’s playing a game. 

“Ashton texted me,” he says, and the clicking stops. 

“What did he say?” 

“Uh,” Luke says, holding the phone away from his ear and squinting as the bright screen blinds him in the darkness of the room. He fumbles for his light switch with one hand while exiting back into the messages app with the other. “‘We should probably talk about this.’” 

“Yeah, we should,” Michael says, “that’s why I’m asking what he texted you.” 

“No, that’s what he said,” Luke says. 

“He said you should talk about it?” 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause.

“That bastard,” Michael says calmly. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, yet,” Luke says. “I called you first.” 

“Tell him ‘nah, you’re good’,” Michael says, and Luke knows he’s only, like, ten percent joking. 

“Michael,” he says, tone admonishing, but his stomach feels a little lighter. Knowing he’s got Michael and Calum on his side - fiercely on his side - makes it feel a lot less scary, a lot easier to handle. 

“Well, what do you want to say?” Michael asks. 

“I don’t know,” Luke says. He’s fantasised about this so many times since they broke up - about Ashton texting him, about Luke having the power to say no, or say yes - but he’s never decided on a resolute response in his daydreams. 

“You don’t have to reply,” Michael says. “You don’t owe him shit.” 

“I know,” Luke says, and it comforts him, somehow. “Maybe I won’t.” 

“I’ll reply for you,” Michael says, and then there’s more clicking. “Just give me a few minutes to look up how to say ‘go fuck yourself’ in at least forty different languages.” Luke laughs at that, the knot in his stomach loosening considerably.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he says, because now that he’s talking about it, now that it’s not just in his own head and his own heart, it feels a lot less frightening. “What a fucking joke. We get soulmates, and mine’s Ashton?” 

“That’s what you get for saying my fringe was ugly in Year Seven,” Michael says. 

“It was ugly.”

“Well, now something else terrible is going to happen to you,” Michael says cheerfully. 

“What’s worse than waking up with a giant tattoo about Ashton on my back?” Luke says. 

“Having to speak to him again,” Michael says. Luke doesn’t really think he can argue with that. 

“I’m going to turn my phone off,” he says, stifling a yawn, because now that the adrenaline’s subsided, the exhaustion is kicking in again. 

“You should just block him,” Michael suggests. Luke is sorely tempted for a moment, but then sighs.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, because it’s too late, and he’s not thinking straight, and he doesn’t want to do something he’ll regret. “Thanks for listening to me, Mikey.” 

“Always,” Michael says, with a sincerity Luke didn’t know he had in him. “But you’re going to have to pay me for my services in food.” 

“I’ll cook for you,” Luke says. 

“I said food, not chargrilled remnants of what used to be pasta,” Michael says. 

“I can cook pasta,” Luke protests. 

“‘Cook’ is a bit of a strong word to describe what you can do with pasta,” Michael says. 

“Arsehole,” Luke says, but he’s smiling. 

“Love you too,” Michael says, and Luke can hear the grin in his voice. “Go to bed.” 

“Alright, mum,” Luke grumbles. “Night.”

“Night,” Michael says, and then he hangs up, and Luke’s suddenly all too aware of the silence and darkness and sheer loneliness of his room. 

He switches his phone off, rolls over, and lets the warm feeling of knowing Michael’s there for him envelop him, eventually drifting off to sleep.

 -------

 “So,” Calum says, when Luke walks into work the next morning, exhausted and late. He’s swivelled around in his chair to face Luke, fingers steepled against his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Did you text him back?” Luke scowls. 

“I wish Michael would let me tell you things myself,” he says, slamming his bag onto his desk with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

“Did you?” Calum asks again. Luke shakes his head, throwing himself down in his chair, taking his phone out of his bag and putting it on the table before chucking his bag under his desk. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” he says. 

“Fair enough,” Calum says, with a shrug. Luke bites his lip. 

“Do you think I should?” Calum shrugs again. 

“I think you should do what feels right,” he says. 

“I don’t know what feels right,” Luke moans, putting his head in his hands. “He’s my fucking ex. He fell out of love with me. How is he my soulmate?” 

“Maybe he’s, like, a platonic soulmate?” Calum offers, and then recoils in the heat of the glare Luke sends his way. 

“Ashton’s not really high up on the list of people I’m looking to be friends with,” Luke says. Calum looks like he’s about to say something, but then Luke’s phone buzzes. He looks over, half-expecting it to be Michael, but-

Ashton Irwin Don’t ignore me, Luke. This is important. 

Anger suddenly flares hot in Luke’s stomach. 

“Is it him?” Calum asks. Luke nods, and holds the phone up over his desk for Calum to see. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“He texted me at two a.m.,” Luke says. 

“He’s so fucking entitled,” Calum says, sounding almost as irate as Luke feels. Luke’s so angry that he types out a response without even thinking about it. 

Me Are you fucking serious? You texted me at two in the morning. 

“What did you say?” Calum wants to know, and Luke dutifully reads it out to him. Calum nods approvingly. “Call him a bastard next time.” Luke laughs, both bitter and amused, and then his phone buzzes again. 

Ashton Irwin I know you’re at work. 

Ashton Irwin Call me on your lunch break? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Luke mutters, thrusting his phone at Calum. 

“At least he put a question mark this time,” Calum says. “Fucking arsehole.” 

Luke’s fingers are shaking as he types.

Me Fuck you. You left me like it was nothing, like I meant nothing after I gave all of myself to you for three years. You never checked in on me, never asked about me, never bothered seeing if I was okay. You just told me you fell out of love with me, and then up and left. You don’t get to demand shit from me now. 

Luke erases it all. 

Me I don’t have anything to say to you.

The typing bubble pops up as soon as Luke’s sent the message, and he watches the words form in front of his eyes. 

Ashton Irwin I do, though. 

 ------- 

 Luke’s not really sure how he finds himself standing outside in the biting early-October wind on his lunch break, finger hovering over the dial button on Ashton’s contact name. 

He’s been standing there for five minutes, almost pressing it but never quite getting there (except one time his finger had slipped and he’d pressed it and then stabbed the ‘end call’ button about fifty times straight in a blind panic). 

On the one hand, he really, really doesn’t want to talk to Ashton. He’s moved on from Ashton, with a lot of expensive therapy, a lot of leaning on his friends more than he should have and a lot of eating his body weight in processed food, and he wants Ashton to stay a part of his past. He’s worked hard to get to where he is today, and he doesn’t need to be flung back to where he had been. 

On the other hand, this is kind of a big deal. They’re soulmates. Ashton was right, although Luke doesn’t want to admit it - this is something they should talk about. Plus, it can’t hurt to hear what Ashton has to say, right?

With ten minutes left of his lunch break and approximately the same amount of time before he has to start sacrificing fingers to frostbite, Luke takes a deep breath and presses the dial button. 

It rings twice, and then there’s a click as Ashton picks up. 

“Hello?” Ashton says, and Luke suddenly feels incredibly sick. He hasn’t heard Ashton’s voice in two years, not since he was telling Luke he didn’t love him anymore, and it throws Luke back to that place, making him feel small and vulnerable and pathetic. 

“Hi,” he says, and he’s proud of how steady his voice comes out given the circumstances. “I have ten minutes.” 

“Okay,” Ashton says. “You’re still living in Sydney, then?” 

“What?” Luke says, slightly taken aback by the question. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Cool,” Ashton says. There’s a moment of awkward silence, and Luke contemplates Googling the quickest way to end his own life before Ashton speaks again. 

“How are you?” he asks, and Luke can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he asks, and he suddenly feels a little better, a little more in control. Ashton’s asking how he is, and he’s the one laughing. He’s the one with the power. Ashton wants to talk to Luke - Luke doesn’t want to talk to Ashton. 

“What?” Ashton sounds a bit defensive. 

“Get to the point,” Luke says, feeling braver and bigger with every passing second. “I didn’t call for a fucking catch up.” 

“Jesus,” Ashton mutters. “What the fuck happened to you?” You happened, Luke thinks bitterly, but he won’t give Ashton that satisfaction. 

“I grew a fucking spine,” he says instead. “Just tell me what you wanted to talk about.” 

“Well,” Ashton says. “I just- I feel like we should talk about the fact that we’re...y’know. Soulmates.” 

“I don’t have anything to say about it,” Luke says. 

“Are you serious, Luke?” Ashton says, sounding slightly pissed off, and Luke’s caught off-guard for a moment, hearing his name in Ashton’s familiar yet strange voice again. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, and he can’t help the bitterness that tinges his tone. “You fucking left, Ashton, and it’s been two years. What the fuck am I supposed to have to say to you?” 

“We’re soulmates,” Ashton says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Luke. 

“Oh, what, so you wouldn’t have fallen out of love with me if you got a fucking tattoo a few years earlier?” Luke says, fury swirling in his chest. “You needed a bit of ink to tell you who to love?” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Ashton says, even though to Luke it sounds like it’s exactly what he means. 

“Right,” Luke says sarcastically. “What’s the point in this call?” 

“To fucking talk, Luke, not have you bite my head off,” Ashton says. The fury grows hotter in Luke’s chest, seeping into his veins and heating up his muscles. 

“Talk about what?” he spits. 

“You’re my fucking soulmate!” Ashton says, voice rising. “Don’t you want to fucking talk about it?” 

“No!” Luke shouts, and two passers-by give him an odd look. He lowers his voice, and tries again. “No. I don’t have anything to say about it.” 

“I think we should meet up,” Ashton says. 

“I think you’re fucking insane,” Luke tells him. “I’m going back to work. Don’t contact me again.” 

“Wait,” Ashton nearly yells, and Luke, out of instinct, hesitates. “Uh. What’s your-  what’s it of?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Luke growls, and hangs up. 

He lets out a shaky exhale as he tips his head back against the cold brick wall behind him, anger pounding through his veins, ringing in his ears. 

Fuck Ashton Irwin, he thinks, blinking up at the cloudless sky. Fuck Ashton Irwin, and fuck the soulmate tattoos. 

chapter two

[flipsideds]

“ oh, haha... ”  a default response to a very non-default situation –– a little post-show, barside rendez-vous with an older man who insists nour has been singing to directly to him the entire night. “ flirting ?  i... ”  

gentle eyes gloss over the banquet hall’s dimmed lights, bright smiles, flickering electric candles... “ . . . what’s that ? ”  and then he’s off, gin and tonic in hand. three strides and it’s already half-drained. yikes.

or, alternatively :  greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so graceful, ever so unintentionally magnetic nour al-busiri! below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down. i am so excited to plot & write with all of you !!

( i’m scheduled for a tonsillectomy tomorrow so i’m gonna be so grateful for the distraction, y’all have no idea. ) 

if you want some great mood-setters for this beb’s backstory / insight into his soul, slap on some jacob collier, kevin garrett, or charlie burg ‘n let’s get cookin’ !

so this is all copy-pasted from a discord chat with devon bc i improvised nour’s entire life story over a span of... 10 minutes ?? bahaha pls enjoy i apologize in advance. ( i also put this in normal text size bc it is v long and i don’t want anyone hurting their eyes !! protect dem beautiful retinas <3 )

h i s t o r y .

his parents met in grade school in egypt, but then didn't reconnect until their masters studies crossed paths in london... immediately fell head over heels again ( had they been searching for one another in crowds since being 6-7 years old?? maybe... ). graduated top of their class, accepted job offers in london in the biopharmaceutical realm. but then. when nour was 3...

they were involved in a freak monorail accident on their way back from a science conference in amsterdam. the babysitter paid 80 quid to watch the kids for two nights became their sole protector in this world. british authorities had trouble contacting other kin, but managed to reach mr. al-busiri's mother, rashida, who was still living in dahab with her second husband, zaim.

the al-busiri's came from old money. so off nour goes ( and potentially his older bro if i decide he exists... potential wc with a rami malek fc tbh ) to live in the city which, unbeknownst to him, sparked his parents' storybook love.

so nour grows up in this like... picturesque seaside childhood. collects shells. bonds with his grandmother and her husband. they encourage him with school, etc. but he quickly shows that he excels at maths and... music? wow. that's unexpected. gets his first piano at 5. first guitar at 6. by 8 1/2, he's managed to hodge-podge together a little recording studio for himself in his bedroom, and he's constantly serenading his friends at school.

( death tw / illness tw ) then comes zaim's stroke. he lives for four months after, but he loses his ability to speak. his motor skills deteriorate. nour and his grandmother do their best to tend to him –– she's already about 40% down the macular degeneration path, but hasn't told him yet that her vision's going. so 10 y/o nour does what he does best: unconditional love and support, delivered through the gift of song. zaim dies after requesting his favorite song: 'blackbird' by the beatles, sung in verses alternating from english to arabic.

after,  it's just nour and rashida against the world ( maybe his brother too bergorghre if i decide he's a thing ) . rashida's forced to come clean about her vision the day she can't for the life of her find the bloody pen she just put down so she can finish signing off on nour's choir trip permission slip. ( it's right next to her, to her left, just out of her closing field of vision. ) things progress more rapidly after that. by the time nour's 16, his grandmother is legally blind. it's not an uncommon sight to see him at the markets or strolling along the beach with her on his arm. she refuses canes as long as nour's around. ( “ don't rob me of my youth, nuri-nuri [ my light ] ”  )

despite her growing dependency on him, she encourages him to apply to unis all over the globe. by the time college apps roll around, nour is somewhat of a local household name: he plays summer concerts, coffee shops, and is even asked to play at his teacher's wedding ceremony –– and his neighbor's cat funeral.

acceptances roll in. julliard. berkeley. chicago school of music. he chooses chicago, because there's someone there. someone he connected with online a few years back, a friend, but... could turn into something more. this hopeless romantic heedlessly ventures off to find out if this boy in chicago might... be someone. something more.

spoiler alert: he gets to chicago, starts music school. and each meet-up they set? gets pushed. sometimes it's traffic. a cold. transit trouble. can't get work off, sorry. things with ma are really tough. the excuses kept coming but... nour's naive. he believes every word. but in his second year of uni, things....... start getting suspicious. by chance, he spots this man in the window of a coffee shop downtown. overjoyed, he texts as much. but ... messages go read and unanswered. phone calls dwindle.

his music suffers. so does his muse. so much so that he's tempted to drop out, to throw in the towel, to just...... go back home. he speaks with his grandmother each day on the phone. she's doing well, stop worrying, nuri-nuri, your uncle is taking good care of me. nour goes on dates. thinks about chicago boy. thinks about him a lot.

he's 20 when it happens. sat on a stage in a little dive bar, tuning his acoustic guitar for an opening number, and there. those eyes. he knows them.

they talk after the show, in the alley. share a cigarette. and it's almost like... maybe things are finally clicking. maybe this is finally their shot.

except chicago boy ( neil ) says they have to stop talking. that he had to just... see nour for himself. see that he's real. hear him sing, and... move on. nour doesn't buy it. pushes back. asks why the hell neil'd come out now only to slink back to the shadows. things get heated. neil yells. and the men... the men who hear and come running ?  they think nour is the cause of it all.

( hate crime tw, violence tw )  how many kicks does it take to break to the center of a broken heart ? twelve. how many broken ribs does it take to immobilize a probably terrorist, dude ? four. shattered wrist. snapped ankle. broken arm. cracked skull. and neil scuttles off like nour's bad meat. bad blood. like he asked for this. 

chicago school of music receives a call from weiss memorial three days later.

nour never gets his degree. he breaks his apartment lease. flies home after he heals, spends a year with his grandmother and uncle. just... creating. writing, playing, trying to fill that void with something. but then things with his uncle get heated. he wants to put his own mother in a home, sell the estate, pocket the cash. nour fights it, but he's got no legal bearing.

the nursing home concept never takes hold, though, because his grandmother's still sharp as shit and refuses to sign anything nour doesn't read first. eventually the uncle grows tired of fighting and stops trying, just... slinks back to his husband and keeps his mouth shut. nour's grandmother pressures him to go back to chicago, make that city wish he never left. take back his own story. together they work to find a live-in aide they trust. freshly 22, nour ventures back to the city that broke him.

he finds cheap housing, a gig. the malnati, seems legit. good money. good exposure. and then he meets @ryderxmms​ –– they form one night stand. when not scheduled for malnati banquets, you can find nour providing vocals ( and occasional keys ) in the dive bars / parties the band lands gigs at.

g e n e r a l .

nour creates like food and drink don’t exist, sunlight is an illusion, and all the human body needs for sustenance is sound. he can find his way around just about any instrument under the sun, but his main poisons are piano, acoustic guitar, and digital recording tools –– think jacob collier and you’re right on the money.

actually, i’m stealing a lot of jacob collier discography and pegging it as his creations. this kid’s got an experimental sound and loves it.

he grew up speaking english and arabic equally, but because he learned english in london and then continued in egypt, he does have a mild brit-arab accent. it’s v cute, i promise.

looks like he’d be a total lothario, yeah ?? but. he’s so shy ?  so sweet ?  get him on a stage and he’s shameless but plop him in a bar and eye him up and he’ll honestly just smile nervously and pretend you’re looking at someone else.

love languages : singing to his succulents and plants before his 5am morning runs. facetime calls at times least convenient for him, but most convenient for you. little notes written on napkins, smiley face doodles included. candy bars. lingering a little longer in doorways after saying hello, just to see you smile.

he’s got major water sign vibes. birthday comin’ up in march, woot woot !!

he often wears very simple statement pieces. he likes rings, crystal pendants, leather bracelets. soft tees layered with embroidered jackets, metallic blazers. somehow he pulls off mixed media and crazy prints that should never go together ?  he just... is so easy breezy.

he often wears his hair wild ‘n curly, unless the gig he’s got mandates a more streamlined look. 

falls in love.... 14 times a day ??  really.

has a scar across his left temple from the incident with neil. will probably write it off as a bike riding accident. ( he doesn’t know how to ride a bike. )

don’t let him cook ever, okay ??  unless you want him to literally do this.

pls come at me for all the plots ?  i’m so open for all the things !!!  y’all got me on discord, so feel free to slide on into my dms. i promise i will be so thrilled <3

[aura-loveshine]

Fringe-dweller’s true tales.

I looked up at the half moon, and thought “this will be the 5th full moon since you died”... 

Three nights before you were so suddenly taken from the physical earth, you camped overlooking the beautiful large body of water. you explored the multifaceted countryside, you were always like a kid when it came to exploring. you would have honoured and felt connected with nature. you would have sat with a j and admired the full moon on Friday the 13th. it would have been so beautiful to see the full moon over the water, the reflection, the light bouncing off the rippling water and quartz crystal sparkly rockbed... 

I hope those days spent at that campsite were healing, I hope you felt at peace, I hope you spent those days happy, content. I imagine you playing guitar and adventuring with our magic merlin dog, enjoying the wildlife, the peacefulness. I imagine you listening to the abc radio you loved and talking to the other campers, sharing your quirky unique self, making people laugh, or think. I imagine you satisfied to have achieved the long time goal to drive to the tip of Australia, from Cook Town to Cape York in your FWD. I imagine you had chocolate or something sweet even though you were running out of everything else. 

I wonder if you dreamt those nights... I wonder if you had a feeling something was coming. I wonder about the last conversations you had with tribe. i wonder about where you thought the wind might take you next. I wonder if you actually were on your way to visit me... ill never know whether I/you/we could have done anything to change what happened... I can't believe after all the physical pain you endured through-out your 34 years, that you experienced pain in your last alert moments... I think about our dog being with you when it all happened... 

I imagine you loving being omnipresent, exploring the universe in your cosmic pirate-ship with Xena, your beloved 17 year old dog. I'm not surprised she passed 12 days after you... I'm glad your both free of your aching sore physical bodies. You both lived so adventurously. you and Xena are the only ones I know that can say they lived in their vehicles/bus for over 11 years, driving over a million kms around and through Australia. I also don’t know anyone else that helped as many fringe-dwellers as you did, loved and supported so many beautiful women without trying to take it to a sexual level, who invited people to travel with you and see new incredible parts of Australia. you saved forests, educated people, changed Bunnings national policy, inspired people to live better and more freely, you lived more in your short life-time than anyone I know. you experienced pain, near death experience, limitation childhood abuse and death of loved ones and still managed to be the incredible being full of enthusiasm with an open heart and playful inquisitive nature. 

I was relieved to hear you had been reconnecting with your mum and family. that our close friends had quality time with you before everything changed...       I know you knew there was a high chance of you dying while on the road due to road death statistics... but all the justifications can't outweigh the heaviness of not being able to message you, call you, find out where you are now, what your building or what fascinating experience you’ve had recently.

You were the first and only male partner I have shared a ‘de facto’ type lovership with, having only been with women until you. you were so respectful, you were loving and gentle...  travelling in a old coaster for 6 months with you living a true dream... you built us a bush shack in two weeks, you built us a bush palace in a month and a half, all while been technically ‘disabled’... you showed me sacred sites of Australia, you climbed into caves, swam in ocean with crocodiles a few kms away,, we ate dinner alone with Dick Smith in the desert, casually chatting. you introduced me to Robin Mutoid at Burn out, I loved sitting with you and Robin in the coaster watching you two light up talking about mad hatter genius building ideas... and plans to create an explosive pineapple grenade to the filming we were doing.

Some of my favourite memories of my life-time, have been with you. I cherish you, I cherish my photos of you, I'm relieved I didnt listen to you when you told me to stop taking photos and be in the moment, but now I can look at those memories when I need to see you. every time I see a old coaster van I'm going to think of you... so many things remind me of you... having merlin with me is the silver lining, I'm relieved she was safely found after 15 days of being missing in the bush. I'm relieved she's with me. but I wish I was instead bringing her back to you...

You led such an incredible life I hope to share your stories and pictures with the world. you inspired so many people while you were alive... and even after... thousands of people read about your death on social media and tv... the articles and posts used the photos I took of you. it was surreal to see you and our dog in articles, for what happened to be so publicised... for a tragedy so personal to be used as ‘grief porn’... I hope to use the publicity of it all to make change to the stretch of road. needs better signage, a lower speed, something! I can't get it out of my head that you were the 9th fatality out of 30 accidents in 31 years, within a 4km stretch of road... 9 fatalities is too many. 9 is the final number. you are the last one to be taken out there...

The bush fires started raging not long after you died... in a strange way, the fires seemed fitting in my state of grief. Our lives were all forever changed... I was forever changed. The fires burning for months. My grief, anger, shock and feeling of helplessness burning inside me for months.  the sense of emergency through out the country, the sense of disaster within me.

It was all a bit much trying to deal with you dying, Xena dying, merlin being missing for 15 days and everything else that happened over the next 2 months as well the fires raging, rainforests burning, native wildlife in crisis, homes burning, people dying and the nation all in panic and smoke. Being 1500kms away from my forest home and family while the fires burned out of control less that 40kms away, with road blocks and potential fires in between. Trying to have your life celebration festivities while experiencing heavy rain, wind warnings and strained tumultuous emotions all round... thunder and hail while my mums saying she is taking all my valuables and art to a safe house coz the fires are getting closer, and they are prepping to have to evacuate with the dog, cat, ducks and chickens... luckily, it never came to that, the fires were contained 25kms away from our home, contained only 20kms away from my closest town, a well known beautiful alternative community. 

A moment that will always bring a smile to my heart, was when I was finally driving home. Id had a really rough night, id been holding so much in, trying to just get through everything to get home, id started falling apart... we had just started driving, when we saw a small’ish’ dust devil. the ‘tornado hunter’ part in me instantly wanted to drive up the near by road to chase it. I held back, until I heard my friend say “we could throw some of him ashes into the dust devil”... and I zoomed up the road as quick as I could. although the little twister had gone out of reach, I trustfully threw some of your ashes towards it. my heart felt uplifted as I watched the ash catch, float up and dissolve toward the dust devil.

You weren't scared of dying, you lived actively seeking to push your own limits, always with a cheeky grin. but you always landed like a cat, you were always there, doing your thing... alive. you always came back... you would have heard about the fires and driven straight to help, you would have fought the fires like you had before. you would have used the experience as a way to further pursue actual change for the planet, would have been apart of the vocal community questioning how the government failed to protect and how we needed to have upheaval and revolution...

You drove so safely on the roads. I dont know what happened to the other driver, except that he was seemingly uninjured. was it actually an unfortunate accident? or did the driver lose control going around the corner at 130kms in a 100 zone.... 

Was it really ‘your time to go’? if I hadn't been to the crash site and dealt with all that I have, I might fantasise the idea that you pulled the ultimate fucked up prank, that your hiding out in your doomsday bunker, mischievously laughing at no one knowing your alive, being completely ‘offline’, plotting the moment to reveal yourself... to see you, hug you would be.... 

We separated as lovers 15 months before you died, as we had to go on seperate journeys, we had to become individuals again. we were both struggling with very different things, we had to salvage our friendship and love, to take a break, allow some time... and then... you died 7 hours away, on your way to my area... on your way to see me and Xena.. I can't help but feel I'm being punished somehow, question if I shouldn't have made you leave. you might still be alive... am I silly to dwell on thoughts like that? I thought we had more time.

All I can do is live passionately, continue to be inspired by you and cherish you and our time together, learn from my experiences, healing these wounds by living, by loving, by sharing truth, by having daily gratitude and celebrating the positive events and changes as they come.

I know, for a long time, I will count each passing full moon...

You will always be my gypsy pirate king.  

Fly Free my Lover. I'll see you on the other side once again.

[rkjinhyuk-blog]

hello everyone! this intro post is super belated, but thank you for all your kind messages! i’m slowly but surely responding to all of them right now, but i figured i should get one of these up before it’s too late! i’m super excited to bring my best boy lee jinhyuk into the rp ♥ some quick stats: lee jinhyuk, 21, works as a delivery boy for yum yum chicken and at an escape room service, no escape! he’s also a former idol; he was in a group called spect8 (you can read more about them here) which officially disbanded earlier this year, so naturally he feels some kind of way about it. you can read more about him on his profile and background pages, but i’ll drop some notes + wanted connections under the cut as well! if anything interests you, please hmu or alternatively, if you’d like to plot please hit the like button on this post and i’ll pop into your ims ♥ thanks for reading and i can’t wait to write with you all!

TL;DR:

so: lee jinhyuk, former stage name is wei but he’ll still answer to it now because he’s fond of it. recently turned twenty one but sometimes he feels a lot younger and other times he feels like he’s ancient. stuck somewhere in the middle but definitely does not feel entirely normal

what’s up, my peers? cannot connect with you!

former idol (or failed idol, if you prefer). got scouted in his final year of middle school by a small company preparing to debut their first group, passed the audition and trained all through high school. was added to the debut line up in 2016 and it was honestly one of the happiest days of his life!

and then, you know, shit sucked. the group was never popular and suffered further when two of their most popular members left. were put on hiatus around the beginning of 2018 and officially disbanded in 2019, though most members had already gone their own ways before then

post disbandment, jinhyuk returned home and tried to get his life together, eventually realizing that he really did not want to give up his dream of becoming an idol just yet. so he’s still! fighting! to debut again, hopefully with better results this time

lives with his parents and younger sister - she attends hanlim and very much wants to be an idol in spite of jinhyuk’s own failure. does his best to be a supportive brother but he’s a little worried about her lmao

decided not to attend university after disbandment; he did one semester online @ kyung hee before dropping out and he genuinely like... does not think academics are for him

spends his time working as a delivery boy for yum yum chicken. works some pretty weird hours, tbh. also works part time at no escape! he’s really good at escape room puzzles so it’s a perfect fit

volunteers at the local community centre when he has time; teaches a baby’s first hip hop class, basically, which is great for him because he loves working with kids. probably would’ve gone into like childcare or early education if he had the drive

his specialty is definitely rap + dance but he doesn’t consider himself all that skilled yet. both are talents he had to work hard to develop after he became a trainee. still tries to take classes and keep up with practice when he can... 

a really good boy... like he’s genuinely very bright & friendly and easy to get along with. collects people like you might collect stamps... has a good memory so will remember the most random facts or things you’ve said but it’s because he cares about you. also generally laid back, doesn’t get angry easily, not really shy or afraid of anything. super affectionate, can get silly/dumb, adopts kids like no one’s business 

can get morose sometimes especially when his ~idol past is brought up. like he tries to pretend he’s not bothered! but he is... though he’s mostly sad because he’s internalized the failure as his fault and part of him worries he’s used up his one (1) chance at his dream but it’s fine. takes a lot for his bitterness to come to the surface but it happens occasionally

pls................... love him

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

his ride or die best friend!! is probably close to many people but like... (1) friend (preferably long term/established) who knows all the shit jinhyuk’s been through and stuck through the good times and the bad. jinhyuk would 100% take a bullet for them... he’s not good at leaning on people but someone who could like actually allow him to relax around them would be great

former fans of spect8? current fans? was pretty involved with fans (think wonho from monsta x lmao) so he had a good reputation in the fandom! the group was never all that popular to begin with, so jinhyuk valued all the fans he had. with disbandment he thinks they’re essentially forgotten--so to discover they still have fans would be really cool 

big fan of rebuilding relationships so like old friends or classmates he lost touch with after he became a trainee and is slowly reconnecting with now... not the same person as they remember, probably, but that’s fun to play with

yum yum chicken customers?? that one person who always orders the same thing @ 2 am and jinhyuk’s the one who delivers it every single time.... the person with the suspiciously large order who invites jinhyuk inside to eat so they don’t look like it’s all theirs... the person who made him run around the riverside searching for them so he can deliver their food please

also no escape! customers? you gave up 10 minutes into your escape room and now you’re just chatting with jinhyuk over the phone instead of asking for hints... you refuse to leave the escape room until you solve it even though your time expired like 2 hours ago... you and jinhyuk get trapped in an escape room but this is like the only one jinhyuk hasn’t memorized the puzzles for rip

other people who volunteer at the community centre, whether with dance classes literally anything else? they have a good working relationship or a friendly rivalry for whatever reason? 

or you come to drop your siblings/cousin/friend’s kid/whatever for dance class and meet jinhyuk who kind of ropes you into joining in with the rest and won’t take no for an answer! it’ll be fun!!

jinhyuk helped you out of a tight situation or something once and you accidentally caught feelings for him... and he knows you did but he doesn’t want to bring it up so now he just pretends he’s oblivious!

you’re small and jinhyuk is a giant and you absolutely hate being next to him but you get paired up or tricked into doing a lot of shit together. he thinks you’re.... so cute... but you want him to get away from you 

you and jinhyuk were rivals in like the fifth grade and when you see him again after falling out of touch, you’re filled with rage... turns out he doesn’t remember your rivalry and thought you were friends the whole time 

jinhyuk’s friends set you two up on a blind date. he’s literally never been on a date before and has 0 experience with romance so it would sure be something? 

you’re with jinhyuk when he gets injured and he’s like “i’ll deal with it!” but you try to get him to go to the hospital and he freaks the fuck out

you play basketball/video games together all the time and jinhyuk always loses so you think he just sucks.... turns out he’s been letting you win this entire time

you always meet jinhyuk at the public baths and you’re convinced he doesn’t exist outside of them like some kind of house spirit but...... you run into him at the store and you’re amazed

this is so long already but i’m really open to almost anything so please plot with us!!

[htmcars-blog]

14 Best Car Games for Kids So You'll Never Hear "Are We There Yet" Again

At first, a road trip seems like an excellent idea. you'll crank up the music, feel the wind in your hair, and perhaps even see one among the simplest roadside attractions in America. But once you throw kids into the combination, things can get a touch hectic—and your perfect driving playlist could get drowned out by a chorus of "are we their yets" coming from the backseat. Fortunately, there is a simple solution: Never leave home without one among these essential car games for teenagers.

Our comprehensive list of the simplest driving games includes a mixture of the classic (and free!) car games you grew up playing as a child, also as a couple of newer, shoppable options you'll buy now. Whether you're stuck in downtown traffic or on a cross-country road trip without stopping in view, these car games for teenagers will help you—and your crew—pass the time and celebrate doing it.

Spot It! game - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Compete: Spot It!

Spot It! is an ultra-portable card that relations of all ages can play together in up to 5 alternative ways (and yep, variety is that the spice of life—and road trips). Designed for anywhere between two and eight players, Spot It! maybe a beholding game during which players must find matching images. In its simplest iteration, players flip two cards at an equivalent time. Each card features eight images and every two cards will feature exactly one among equivalent images. The player who spots that overlap first, wins. It's almost like the classic matching cards, but are often switched up for more of a challenge. This game is ideal for siblings who want to play together within the backseat while you get a touch of an opportunity.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who Love the News: Did You Hear That…?

"Did You Hear That…?" is one among the simplest car games for teenagers who love popular culture and entertainment and wish to continue with the news. One person tells a fake—or real—"news story" (it might be celebrity news or whatever you want!) starting with "Did you hear that…?" The others need to guess whether it's fact or fiction. Everybody gets an address to tell a story or two! This game is great for older kids and teenagers who are within the know.

Game Magnetic parlor game set - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who Love the Classics: Game Magnetic parlor game Set

Retro games like checkers and backgammon are often an excellent thanks to passing the time, but moving vehicles aren't necessarily conducive to keeping tiny pieces in situ. This magnetic set of 12 miniature backseat board games means no stray pieces fall on the ground, and you get a good sort of games to settle on from.

The set includes challenging games like Chinese checkers and chess for older kids and simpler ones like Snakes and Ladders for younger ones. At just five-inches across, each game is super compact, so you'll throw all of them within the car and simply take them along on your next vacation.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who Love Music: Battle of the Bands

If there are music lovers in your family, you'll want to play Battle of the Bands! This free game is particularly fun for middle schoolers and teenagers. One loved one picks a category, something like "songs about my City," "songs about an old flame," or "songs about high school dances." (Make it more specific and artistic for more fun and a much bigger challenge!)

Using an iPod or iPhone, every other loved one takes a turn playing a song that matches the category. The "judge" awards point supported which song fits the category best. Tally up points as you go along and see which loved one would make the simplest DJ.

Regal Game Travel Bingo - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Look Out the Window: Regal Games Travel Bingo

Travel bingo may be a fun new combat the classic "spot the car" road-trip game. These special cards have common road trip items like "truck," "rest area," and "gas station" listed in rows. once you see one among the things, shut the miniature window using your fingertip. Five during a row, as always, means Bingo. This game is right for grade school kids but will easily entertain the whole family, too.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Improvise: Fortunately/Unfortunately

Fortunately/Unfortunately may be a perfect car game for families that enjoy charades, theater, storytelling, and improvisation. One person takes a turn describing a positive scenario that starts with "Fortunately…" The subsequent loved one explores the downside (getting as silly as possible) by describing something that went wrong with the primary person's story. for instance: "Fortunately, I graduated from college." "Unfortunately, it had been clown college, and that I got a D!" alternate getting as creative as you'll, and luxuriate in the laughs!

Our Moments Kids game - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for Shy teenagers: Our Moments, Kids

If you would like to use your road trip as an opportunity to urge to understand your family better, Our Moments may be a game to select up. Each of the 100 cards within the pack includes questions like "Have you ever gotten angry at a friend? How did you handle it?" and "What does one want to be once you grow up?" They're designed as icebreakers, with some a touch deeper than others. It's perfect for reconnecting with kids who might be twiddling my thumbs touch in your after-school chats.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who got to Practice their Letters: Alphabet Categories

This classic car game may be a favorite for folks and youngsters alike and is fun for relations of all ages. Have one person choose a category or genre, like "fruits." Each loved one takes a turn naming an item therein category, within the order of the alphabet. For example, "fruits" could include apples, bananas, cherries, dates, and so on. Take too long to return up with something or repeat something that's already been said and you're out! Once you get through the alphabet, start over with a replacement person taking a turn choosing a special category.

Mad Libs on the Road - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Laugh: Mad Libs On The Road

Mad Libs starts with a story…with a couple of key details missing. This Mad Libs book was written with road-trip themes in mind. But otherwise, it's exactly just like the retro classic: The blanks within the story are designed to be filled out by you, without knowing any context! Mad Libs is one of the simplest car games for teenagers in grade school and secondary school who are learning about grammar and parts of speech, as they need to differentiate between adjectives, nouns, verbs, and adverbs to form the sport work.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Tell Stories: While You Were Sleeping

If a loved one gets some shuteye during your road trip, play a fun game of While You Were Sleeping once they awaken. Each loved one takes a turn telling the story of what happened while the napper was resting. you'll go word by word for extra goofiness, or sentence by sentence if the youngsters want longer for storytelling. The more outlandish the story, the higher. this is often another game that's great for teenagers of all ages.

Connect 4 Grab and go - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Strategize: Connect 4 Grab and go

One of the simplest car games for teenagers who like hands-on activities is that the portable Connect 4 Grab and go. it is a travel-size version of the normal Connect 4 game, during which you are trying to dam your opponent's attempts to attach their red or yellow checkers. When the grid fills up, you begin over. this is often an excellent game for teenagers who tend to urge impatient or antsy if they need to take a seat still for too long.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Test Their Memory: "I'm happening a Picnic"

This is a classic and is ideal for young kids who got to practice their alphabet skills. Everyone takes an address to say, "I'm happening a picnic, and I am bringing…" The item you bring goes in alphabetical order: apples, bananas, cutlery, Doritos, and so on. everyone also has t0 name the previous person's items and every one those that came before them, making it a pleasant memory game also. Make it through the alphabet for a fun, cooperative game that's ideal for preschoolers and kindergarteners.

Brain go after the Car - car games for teenagers Best Car Game for teenagers Who Love Trivia: Brain go after the Car

Love trivia? Your road-tripping family will love Brain Quest! This version, designed specifically for road trips, includes 1,100 trivia questions on America. The questions are built around standard first- through sixth-grade school curricula, making it the right game for that age bracket. Brain Quest is one of the simplest car games for teenagers if you do not want them to slack entirely on learning while you're on vacation.

Best Car Game for teenagers Who like to Count Cows: Cows On My Side

Cows On My Side is one among the simplest car games for teenagers if you're on an extended trip through the countryside. This game may be a little bit of an upgraded version of the normal "Cow!" and "Horse!" exclamations that your kids will probably be declaring from the backseat anyway. the principles are simple: Count the cows (or add other animals to the combination if you want). once you see one, say, "Cows on my side!" After a couple of hours (or however long you're willing to tolerate this) tally up the points…may the foremost cows win!

[a-functional-lowlife-blog]

8.11.19

So I’ve never really utilized anything other than a diary to jot down my daily feels, but something tells me I might find some comfort knowing that nobody can sneak into my room and read my journal. Tumblr seems like a good enough void to dump these thoughts into. Maybe it’s my psyche craving a positive outlet.. Id rather this be private, but sometimes connections supposed to help, right?  If topics of abuse, death, suicide, or depression trigger you, please do not continue reading. So I guess, let’s start from the top.

I’m 2X years old, & I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing with my life right now. I’m a gamer, & employed, But it’s not like I”m pursuing some great dream. I’m kind of coasting through life, trading experiences for fragments of myself. But I’m honestly rather content, at the moment. I make decent enough money. I can afford to shelter myself, feed myself, & entertain myself. So to some people, yeah it might look like i’ve had it pretty easy. In some ways, I have; in others, not really. 

It was just me & my mom growing up. Dad wasn’t around, & i don’t really want to get into that right now. My mom did everything she could for me. And I, of course being a growing hormonal boy, never truly appreciated it until I got into the real world. Thanks mom. She low-key prepared me for almost anything. I graduated high school, no special titles or accolades, but I could hear her screaming well above the entire stadium of parents when they called my name. I hope I can make her that proud again someday. I haven’t seen her in almost 4 years. Life can be a bitch like that once you’re an actual adult.

Since graduating high school, I’ve fathered a child, a little girl, who continues to blow my mind every day, with her brains & beauty. Damn, my ugly mug made one amazing little girl. Everything I do, I do for her. Even when it doesn’t seem like it. The mother & I are still on fantastic terms, but we separated a couple years after the birth. It just didn’t work as a healthy relationship anymore, & our daughter deserved better than that. 

After we parted ways, I got myself tangled up with a girl that, in hindsight, I should have never said hello to. Now don’t get me wrong, the first 2 years were truly magical. She was young, beautiful, petite body, alternative with piercings & tattoos. Which was basically me, young, rather handsome, fit body, alternative with piercings and tattoos. A match, it would seem, made in heaven. She made me feel alive again. She reinvigorated me to my soul, showed me new experiences I never could have imagined, or dared to do otherwise. I felt happy. Which for me, is a rather fleeting bird, one that’s typically driven away by the raven. It was just like a fairy-tale. We all know those aren’t real. I should have seen the warning signs. The “red flags” that everyone says I ignored. But red flags look like regular flags when looking through rose-tinted glass. If you’ve stumbled upon this by chance, & are triggered by abuse, or suicide, I suggest you stop reading now. 

It started out with little things. Roast-like insults, but sometimes they hurt a little more than they should. Which, obviously, led my mind to tell me “stop being so sensitive.” I’d let it slide. As we approached the 2 year mark, it started getting nastier. Her patience with me was very thin. The smallest error, like I forgot to pick up soda on the way home from my 10 hour shift once, led to me being belittled with insults to my intelligence & even attacks on my dedication to her. It only got worse as time went on. I silently cried myself to sleep most nights. My self-esteem was in an entirely different dimension by this point. I’ve become completely submissive to her. I looked at myself in the mirror one night, after doing things that I regret doing, and being disgusted in myself for letting it get so bad. For never stepping back up & standing my ground. I got us through homelessness. I had helped her get help because she had a severe mental illness that I will not put here. Her every wish, within my power, was my command. Why should I tolerate being treated like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe when kindness didn’t suit her?  So I did. That was the first time she hit me. Just once, open palmed to my left temple.

It didn’t stop. It got worse. I will not go into details, because almost 3 years later, I still panic when I try to think about those months. Most of my friends & family do not know how bad it got. And those that do, do not even know who she even was. It collapsed faster when I started to dissociate after multiple (thankfully) failed suicide attempts. I started cheating, trying to get her to leave me, since she wouldn’t allow me to leave her without threatening to kill herself. “You’re my soulmate, I won’t live without you.” She kept me in that state of submissive fear for another year, using the same lines. Using the same deflection tactics to make me question myself. All while calling me her “soul mate”. I hate that fucking word now. 

But I did finally get the courage to leave. In the middle of the night, a train ride back to my hometown. She tried to work back into my life a few times over the next 2 years. I eventually stopped talking to her, because she would always try to convince me to come back to her, that it can be different, that she’s willing to start over. So I stopped talking to her last year. And now, I can’t anymore, because last month, she killed herself. I honestly never stopped loving her. I can feel the hole where her energy used to be, the bits she contributed to my soul, snuffed out.. I blame myself for her suicide. And I hate that I fell in love with such a beautiful, toxic soul.

We can skip over the few fling relationships I held while in my hometown, except for one girl, who I will forever thank for showing me what a true loving, healthy relationship, based on trust and open communication can actually be like. We got into it knowing we were on a time limit, because I was already in the process of saving up to move again, this time, 3,000 miles away. But we had good chemistry, and I think the relationship was the perfect amount of time for both of us. She’s a LoZ girl. Major fan. As in, owns every game, tons of merch, follows tons of streamers on Twitch who play Legend of Zelda, especially if it’s Ocarina of Time. Coastal gamer girl is probably the best description of her. She’s still one of my best friends, & I talk to her on occasion. She’s super happy, and living a rather adventurous life. I’m super happy for her. 

Our fateful day came, and I had to move away. She comforted me during the entire packing process. Which literally filled 2 boxes I shipped to my new address, my military backpack, & a laptop case. It still resulted in 8 hours of back to back anxiety attacks. I only knew TWO people in the town where I was moving to. One of them, I had never physically met before in our entire 14 year friendship. So, rightfully, I was terrified to leave. I’d reconnected with old friends in my hometown. I’d met an amazing girl in my hometown. I’d landed a really fantastic job in the medical field in my hometown. What was I thinking?! Leave all of THIS?!

But I knew why. She knew why. Everyone in my life knew why. The answer was simple. Yeah, I had a good job, a good girl, & a relatively good life. But I wasn’t truly happy. In my soul. Just as I was in the states I’ve lived before. And that was okay. We had the perfect amount of happiness.

So here I am, in an undisclosed new location, three-thousand miles away from my hometown. And honestly, I’m happier here than I’ve ever been anywhere else. Do I see myself dying here? No, not really. But I could kick it here for a decade or so, if the fates allow my life that long? Sure. The best friend I’d never met before, is just as amazing in person. We play video games together now & then, and go out to the downtown bar scene sometimes for karaoke. There’s 3 roommates total. I enjoy being their roommate. Also, there’s 4 cats. who I absolutely love, and will contemplate posting their pictures here too, for memories sake.

I’ve made some really amazing friends, especially one girl in particular. She’s been very good to me, in many ways. Dinners, events, concerts, party weekend for my last birthday to pass. All while both of us just have a blast around each other. She’s helped me alot these last few months, everything from food to rent, while I struggled to find work, & get on my own two feet. I struggled for 5 months before I landed myself where I am now. So to celebrate, she & I went and got tattoos today.

I got a tattoo of the chemical structure of serotonin on my wrist. To remind myself to be happy, because I’ve already spent so much time being sad. And that I’m going to keep making myself happier, by staying true to myself, learning & growing from the events I’ve been through in my life, both good and bad. Creative, & destructive. Because it’s all molded me into who I am now.

So really without getting into childhood stories, high school shenanigans, & college hijinx, that’s the story of Z. A recent handle I’ve taken to lately, in case someone does decide to read this. I’d like to add to this little... off-site journal once a week, maybe more often.

That’s all I’ve got for today. I’m sufficiently stoned now, & would like to return to playing Apex Legends.

Signing off, 

Z

[elsajeni]

May the 4th 2019 Letter

Dear Yoda,

Hi! Thanks for checking in! You’ve seen my general likes/DNWs in my sign-up already, but let me restate it here so it’s all in one place, and then we’ll get to the ship-specific stuff...

Likes: family feelings; bantering or bickering; moments of humor even in the darkest situations; misunderstandings that turn out all right in the end; poly relationships; casual relationships; hurt/comfort.

Sexy Likes, if you go in that direction: light bondage; lots of talking during sex, both sweet and dirty; realistic funny or awkward moments. If you're writing about teen characters (since some relationships I've requested would lend themselves to that), I'd rather not have anything explicit on-page, but I'm fine with offscreen or fade-to-black implied sex.

DNWs: rape/non-con unless specified; incest; explicit scenes with underage characters; detailed description of bodily fluids; drastically different AUs (what-ifs and canon-divergent fics are fine, this is about coffeeshop AUs, A/B/O, etc.); infidelity; unrelentingly dark and grim stories (I like a glimmering of hope).

Star Wars canon preferences: I'm sure you can tell from my request list that I love and miss the old EU/Legends content. For any request that features Legends characters, I'd be very happy with a purely Legends-based fic, but I also love gluing the loose ends of Legends continuity into the loose ends of sequel trilogy continuity; please feel free to mix and match Legends and canon material.

Relationship-specific prompts:

X-Wing Division:

Biggs Darklighter/Luke Skywalker

I like this best as a teen relationship that grows a little awkwardly out of their friendship, is fun while it lasts, and transitions pretty easily back into friendship when it ends. That said, whatever you do with this pairing, it’s going to be a little bit tinged with sadness; if you prefer it a LOT tinged with sadness, I’d also be delighted with a fic taking place in the brief window between when they reconnect in the Rebellion and the Death Star run.

Alternately, get weird with it – find a way for Biggs to survive, or bring him back from the dead. Write that Space Winter Soldier AU that I secretly kind of love, or Luke being haunted by the literal ghosts of his past.

Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker

I would really like something that brings Wedge into the sequel trilogy timeline, and especially a look at what Luke’s choice to isolate himself means for their relationship. Was Wedge ever on Ahch-To with him? Have they been in contact at all since he disappeared? When he’s found, is Wedge in a rush to see him again, or are his feelings more complicated? (As you may be guessing here, this is an area where I am very comfortable with a “not actually dead” AU! If you like a more tragic tone, though, do feel free to go with the canonical ending of TLJ.)

I’d also love this as a more early-relationship fic -- if you go that route, I’m interested in the pressures that their respective positions and commitments put on a relationship, and especially the difficulty of maintaining a relationship with someone who keeps disappearing on incomprehensible Jedi business.

Wedge Antilles/Wes Janson

Let’s be honest, I’m mostly looking for more Wraith Squadron/Starfighters of Adumar-style shenanigans here. Alternately, this is a pairing that lends itself to hurt/comfort – both of these guys have more than enough canonical close calls. Or why not a bit of both? If you’re feeling ambitious, you could fix Isard’s Revenge for me by writing their reunion post-Distna, after they’ve both believed each other to be dead for weeks.

Falynn Sandskimmer

Listen. I’ve been marching up and down carrying this banner that says “FALYNN SANDSKIMMER DESERVED BETTER” for so long. My arms are so tired. You take it for a minute, won’t you?

Let her survive and prove herself and be happy, with Myn or without (slight preference for without, tbh!). I’d love to see her get over the embarrassment of thoughtlessly insulting Piggy and develop a real friendship with him. Or write me something from her past -- teen Falynn raising hell in Mos Eisley, or the misadventures in her early career that put her on track for Wraith Squadron.

Threesomes Division:

Lando Calrissian/Mara Jade, Lando Calrissian/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker

I liked Lando and Mara’s EU relationship, and wasn’t too happy with the “it was a cover” retcon – show me the time, or times, that it wasn’t just a cover. Or, how about an earlier meeting in their lives, when Mara was brand-new to Karrde’s organization, or during the few days they must have overlapped at Jabba’s Palace?

I’ve always liked Luke and Lando as a romantic pairing, too, so why not bring it all together? Three people who all care deeply for each other, who aren’t often in the same place at the same time, but when they are, well… let’s meet over a mug of hot chocolate and see where the evening takes us. (I’d prefer this with everyone on more-or-less equal footing – not with Luke and Mara as an established/married couple and Lando as the outsider.)

Wedge Antilles/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker

I’d love to see this as a V gradually changing shapes into a more even triad, as Wedge and Mara come to see more in each other than Commander Square Corners and a barely-trustworthy reformed assassin. I’m most interested in this as a getting-together or early-relationship fic, with everyone sorting out their feelings and their respective claims on each other.

Wedge Antilles/Leia Organa/Han Solo, Lando Calrissian/Leia Organa/Han Solo

Another two that go together! With either of these, what I’d most like to see is Leia and Han inviting a friend (or, in Lando’s case, a friendly ex) into their bedroom as a one-time fling or a casual, but ongoing, FWB arrangement; I’m less interested in a long-term triad. If it’s Lando, I’d love to see a little tension between him and Leia as they sort out the boundaries of their respective claims on Han, but ultimately I do want this to be a happy, fun encounter for everyone involved. If you go with Wedge, I’ve always been very fond of his close friendship with Leia in the EU, and I’d like that to be his closer tie to her and Han.

Long Shots Division:

Leia Organa & Beru Whitesun

I would be MOST interested in this as a roleswap AU where Leia is the twin raised on the Lars farm. They thought Luke was headstrong and too like his father -- what a challenge raising Leia would have been. I’d love to see a look at that alternate childhood for Leia, and her relationship with her aunt in particular.

Alternately, find a way for Beru to survive, and to meet her boy’s new friends and family -- does she figure out who Leia is? (Did she know there was another baby?) What do they think of each other? Is Leia a little dismissive, maybe, of a Nice Mom Who Makes Cheese, or do they connect right away?

Mara Jade/Gara Petothel | Lara Notsil

Is this ridiculous? Yes. Do I love it anyway? Yes.

The most plausible version of this is maybe Mara/ “Kirney” during Lara’s Intelligence training -- the timeline is ambiguous, but it doesn’t seem crazy to think they might have been on Imperial Center at the same time, or that the Emperor’s Hand might have been sent to some of the society parties where Kirney made herself at home. Alternately, I think they could have some very interesting things to say to each other later on, after they’ve both changed sides (at least once) and are dealing with what the Empire did to their heads.

Garik “Face” Loran/Ton Phanan

This is in the Long Shots Division because I have a weirdly specific desire here: ghosts. Give me Ton hanging around after death -- where else does he have to go, after all? Haunting all the Wraiths, or just Face, or trying to figure out how he can go haunt some Imperials and ruin their day. Making Face miserable, or still making him laugh (and is he real, or is this some kind of coping mechanism, and does Face want to find out which?), or not seeming to know he’s dead. Just... Ghost Ton. Pls.

Alternately, I’d also be happy with them getting into shenanigans and having lots of pleasant casual sex during happier days. But I love ghosts.

Oola/Leia Organa

There wasn’t a LOT of time for dancers to hang around unwatched at Jabba’s Palace, and they were only there together for a couple of days (and even that, only if we fudge the timeline a little). But sometimes it only takes a couple of days, and sometimes all you need is a few bright stolen moments.

Miscellaneous Division:

DJ/Talon Karrde

I’ll be honest, I don’t really have a plan here, I just think this is a fantastic idea. I was thinking about Karrde the whole time DJ was on screen, and half-expecting him to turn out to BE Karrde, and I am delighted by the idea of this pairing. I think there’s something interesting here about grey areas, and the “rogue with a heart of gold” archetype, and what, realistically, it means to play both sides against the middle when one side is clearly and melodramatically evil.

Mara Jade & Darth Vader

I’m interested in Mara’s childhood and youth, and the sort of... just-under-the-surface yawning horror that we know is there, but that’s not really dug into much in the EU. Give me something with her and Vader encountering each other -- as rivals for Palpatine’s attention, as tentative allies, as student and teacher, or as...

Mara Jade/Darth Vader

... something more than any of that. This could go in a lot of different ways, from something as relatively innocent as an uncomfortable attraction between two people with no one else to talk to, to something as dark as the Emperor ordering one of them to the other’s bedroom. Whatever direction you go with it, I do want it to treat the power dynamics and age dynamics here seriously, and to lean into the darkness that’s present in what we know about Mara’s childhood and youth – no one here is having a good time or doing something they’ll be happy to look back on.

(This is the one sort-of-exception to the “no rape/non-con” clause; it’s a pairing that lends itself to questionable or compromised consent, and I’m into that. The line between what’s “dubcon” and what’s “non-con” is blurry, but as much as possible, I’d prefer that you stay on the dubcon side of it -- deceit, coercion, and uncomfortable power imbalances, yes; violence, physical or Force-based force, or explicit non-consent that’s ignored, no.)

(This is NOT an exception to the “no explicit scenes with underage characters” clause. If you write this with Mara as a teen, please keep anything explicitly sexual off-screen.)

Winter Celchu/Leia Organa

I’d like to see this as a youthful experiment between friends – something casual that doesn’t last, but that remains a fond memory and a little bit of an in-joke.

Obi-Wan Kenobi/Owen Lars/Beru Whitesun

Obi-Wan – Ben, now – stays nearby, after he leaves the baby with them. Maybe it’s to keep an eye out, to make sure Anakin’s child doesn’t draw any undue attention. But maybe it’s not just that.

I’d love basically anything you do with this – a one-time fling that everyone is a little embarrassed about in the morning; an arrangement that sees Obi-Wan stopping by the homestead infrequently for dinner and conversation and, after the kid goes to bed, a night of companionship; a full-on AU where Luke grows up with Uncle Ben as essentially a third parent. (Whatever you do here, Luke will obviously be around! But I am more interested in this focusing on the relationship between the adults, not on any of their relationships with Luke.)

[mandivsman-blog]

So, I came to the end of a situationship about a month ago with a man I realized I didn’t know at all. We were seeing each other for about 3 months and I would consider it long distance. Now, he did the classic “love bomb” (telling me he loved me right away, selling me all type of extravagant dreams, calling and leaving messages multiple times a day) a love avoidant technique and towards the end I found out he was deeply troubled, didn’t think he was, and was probably not going to change. He actually turned me OFF at first. I found him clingy but was simultaneously intrigued because I thought he was successful, well traveled, and thought we were looking for the same things word for word. Now, I’m not excusing my part in this. He was not my usual type and at the first sign of trouble I should have left. He was 40 years old, hundreds of sexual partners, never lived with someone, moved all over the country, single for multiple years, never had a long term relationship (2+), never stayed in one place for very long, had no sense of normalcy or routine, was very emotional but lacked empathy for others, and I got a sense he thought people were disposable. And, through all of those things, he was still just being who he was. Not good, not bad. Just him.

Why did I hang around? Well, what is the #1 thing that makes us attracted to another person?

Whether THEY’RE attracted to US. Yes, that’s right, if they like you, that’s half the attraction right there. He was a Casanova right away. Spoke beautifully, like a poem. He supposedly noticed and loved things in about me that I love about myself. He was externally successful, intellegent, funny, clever. We connected deeply on a sexual level as well. It was easy to open up about things I wanted and rarely shared. We had similar goals about the future.

See, it’s easy for a man to give me attention. I glamour/alternative model, sex positive, and extremely open but they don’t know me. They don’t know my past or my fears. Men tell me things all day, everyday. It’s easy for me to simply overlook because it’s the same words over and over. A man can look 10/10, be wealthy and fit and I will feel no sense of attraction. I have to hear the right words.

Words are meaningful but they lose their value if the actions aren’t parallel. This is where it sticky because the words vs. actions is a perception and thus subjective. One person may feel like their words match their actions perfectly yet the other person feels like they are doing they exact opposite. Is there really any objective truth?

Patterns. If it weren’t for recognizing patterns in science we wouldn’t have centuries of information that’s saved millions of lives and responsible for almost every innovation we have. There’s truth in patterns. He told me multiple stories and I noticed patterns. But, what is the truth? Was it my history of being scared of men and not trusting him that made me notice these patterns? Did they matter? And who should I ask for answers?

I choose not to be in a relationship for a long time. I was in a multiple year, live-in, serious relationship for most of my twenties with the only person I ever loved. The split was, in laymen’s terms, because I didn’t want to move forward and take our relationship seriously enough. This still haunts me some days, some days I think it was a blessing. I felt like a kid most of that relationship but I still remember how freeing and how fufilling full trust and endless love and affection was.

He loves me. He would never hurt me. He cares if I have a headache or a bad day. He makes me a priority. He wants to make me happy. He protects me.

And, In turn, I did the same plus more.

That relationship had been outgrown, unfortunately, and there was nothing him or I could do to stop it. He was air headed and light. Surface level. I am intense, quirky, horny, intense, highly-intelligent, inquisitive, complex. I take up space. I crave learning, doing, seeing, questioning. He liked watching TV.

After our split, I had a rough several years. I needed time to heal and figure things out. This time was the first time I truly spent time alone instead of jumping back in a relationship or dating. This is the best thing that I have ever done.

When a person goes from relationship to relationship, fuck to fuck, person to person, they just wind up mirroring their current partners personality instead of cultivating their own. Chamaeleon like. You need consist, heart wrenching, gut churning time alone. A person needs time to let their heartbreak, disappointed heal to change the essence of their character. This is growth. Jumping from one person to another is a distraction. It chips away. Now, I’m not talking about taking interest in your partners interests. I actually love that part of relationships because I love learning from my partners. I’m talking about melding your life with theirs and basically becoming your partner. 

Anyway, I kept on trying to break it off with this person. He was saying beautiful words but I could never feel comfortable with him. He was had no schedule and his stories didn’t match up. I would bring up inconsistencies but he would shrug them off.

Doubt began to built.

When we began seeing each other he did tell me there was some overlapping but about a month in I decided I didn’t want to see someone with that kind of baggage and tried to break it off. He told me, “I have no one else.” Now, it was just “I have no one else.” It was paragraph after paragraph. Phone call after phone call cementing the fact that there was no one else and he wanted me, was pursuing me, and saw a future with me.

But, that wasn’t the case.

He was still boo loving and fucking that girl. I asked him again and he finally told me the truth. A 24 year old girl (he’s 40), with severe co-dependent issues. He told me her current boyfriend (they’re in an open relationship)was older than him and basically controlled her whole life and didn’t treat her well. I felt for that, no one deserves that but hearing that he was OK with entering the life of that person who was extremely sick, and fucking her changed the way I looked at him. If he wanted to help her without the benefit of sex, that would be one thing. I was devastated. I couldn’t understand how someone could tell me the things he had said to me and blantantly lie to me.

Still I tried to make things work because I felt like we could have a great future together...and I just couldn’t fucking let that go...

He told me he would break it off. I asked “in person?” And he said “My therapist and I will decide.” This puzzled me and hurt me. After this situation caused so much drama between us, why add more strife? Remember how he thought she deserved a break up person when I tell you how he disrespectfully ended things with me...

And, I just want to add, if things hadn’t moved lightening fast between us, I would not have felt this way. I’ve been through similar situations with men I’ve cared for and have never been in as much pain as that betrayal made me feel. When clearing out my phone of anything regarding him, I deleted over 20 voicemails from him.

He told me “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never met anybody like you and I’m scared I won’t again.”

Sounds like bullshit, I know, but everybody secretly wants to hear that from their partner. It felt so good. It felt like I found a friend and lover who had plenty of experience but out of all those women he picked me. We all want to believe that. We all play the fool sometimes.

Anyway, I was in rare form. Since the quarantine I had stopped taking my ADHD med bc of insurance issues which I really need for multiple things including mood, and focus, my mental health was declining, I was drinking a lot, I had little direction, and here this man comes along to swipe me off my feet. He had some extravagant baggage which, when I first heard, I was like “this is not my guy but fun for now”, but I grew to want to walk with him through his problems, grow with him, and nurture him. That’s who i am. The problem was, I couldn’t trust or forgive him. So, he wasn’t doing the actions needed to help restore trust. The second he hurt me and I started reacting, I could feel him start pulling away. He had multiple, heavy things going on and whether he wanted to build trust but couldn’t bc he was busy or he didn’t care to, I will never know.

I also was trying to connect with my absent father at the time which did not go well. I should have known better. Every time my father tries to reconnect with me, my life and psych gets flipped on it’s head because, he’s still the same man who abandoned my mother and I when I was a child. See, it would be different if he had done therapy or actually attempted to be a better human but he hasn’t. He just shows up periodically and says “forgive me.” And I’m not, “no, you selfish mother fucker, show me you’ve changed.” He can’t. He’s 50 years old and is who he is. He disturbs my life subconsciously and consciously. He is to me. I was having a this battle with my father and trying to make things work with my love interest...

But I couldn’t stop being angry with him. I couldn’t stop feeling stupid for trying to believe what he was trying me. I kept trying to break off the relationship like once a week. At the time, I really didn’t want to be with him. I felt disgusted with his character but breaking down the root of that action, I just wanted to manipulate him into comforting me.

How pathetic is that?

Such a hard pill to swallow for me. I didn’t have the tools to regulate my emotions and communicate what I needed. I didn’t have the balls to firmly let go of the relationship. I was miserable running in circles.

Now, this was the absolute wrong thing to do and definitely is emotional blackmail. I hated that I was doing it. It hurt me and weighed me down. The person I cared for was walking on eggshells. I was hurting the person I cared for and he was also hurting me.

When I would drink, I would have meltdowns. They weren’t funny or cute. They were hurtful and designed to cause pain. If we’re talking in self-help terms..every time I would feel triggered, my “pain body” or “shadow” would be stimulated and their main function is the cause damage and posing as a faux coping mechanism.

Painbody-“It is an accumulation of painful life experience that was not fully faced and accepted in the moment it arose. It leaves behind an energy form of emotional pain. It comes together with other energy forms from other instances, and so after some years you have a “painbody,” an energy entity consisting of old emotion.”

I remember painbody being described in Eckort Tolle’s “The Power of Now” as “A lizard eating it’s own tail.” A pain that causes you to hurt people and that also hurts you to hurt people. I hadn’t been triggered like this is years. My mind forgot how to protect itself in a healthy way. I was just doing the best I could.

I met his parents and brother in Denver. This meant a lot to me because, for me, I would never introduce my mother to someone I wasn’t sure about. To me, that’s unfair to my mother to constantly bring man after man over for him to meet.

At this point, communication is declining, he’s trying to do the books for several businesses, meet up with friends, travel, and work...yet is trying to build a connection with me? It wasn’t the right time. I needed to feel like the person who supposedly “loved” me actually cared about integrating me into their life. We had nothing planned to see each other, he always made plans last minute. This was another big reason I couldn’t feel comfortable with him. He expected me to be completely on his schedule. Every time he would tell me, 5-7 ahead of the time he was free and I’d have to completely change my schedule for him. I would have to change plans with friends, family. I’d have to move shifts around at work and lose money. Also, he used to call me in the middle of the night and I would wake up and answer. During his all night shifts sometimes he would sometimes call me multiple times. I was so discombobulated. I was trying to be there for him. I wanted to be with him.

Last time I saw him I flew to Seattle. It was going fine until i asked whether he was still talking to that young girl. He said he had. He also acted like she had a family emergency and I was some monster for being upset about him talking to her. At that moment, I knew it wasn’t over between them. He was also showing me something on his phone and I held it a little closer to my face and he snatched the phone out of my hand. Both situations he convinced me I was wrong and should believe him despite his sneaky, withdrawn behavior. I had so much anxiety. I drank the rest of the weekend to try and calm down which had the opposite affect.

After I came home, We barely spoke. I tried to break it off with him twice. He send me a picture of him crying. I was sick. I couldn’t feel better. It had been so long since a man made me feel so small, so insignificant. Everything he said and did contradicted each other. What was the truth?

I began to not tell me friends anything because I was so embarrassed that I still stuck around. I don’t know why but I believed he was good. I believe he cared for me. I believed we could make it.

I went to a therapy appointment and laid everything out in a brutal 2 hour session. I was transparent because I knew I couldn’t figure this out without complete honesty. I called him crying, telling him I missed him and wanted to make this work. At this point, he seemed nonchalant. I think he probably was already seeing the girl again at this point bc he was completely different. That week he was working and barely spoke to me. He answered me hours later. He cared nothing for me. He was tired of my reactions and thought he was absent of responsibility for my behavior.

This made me feel desperate. Desperate for an answer, desperate for a reason. Desperate for the truth. I felt the pull of abandonment on my chest. I called him, he wouldn’t answer. I called again, he wouldn’t answer. This bothered him. When I would speak to him he would act annoyed with me like I was bothering him. Remember though, this man would call me 5-7 times a day, leave multiple messages, send pictures and videos all day long, and a week before this, send a picture of his ass crying. I have NEVER had such a piece of emotional manipulation sent to me IN MY LIFE. And just like that, he snatched all that back. It meant nothing.

I reached out one more time. I spilled my heart out. I said we could start over again. I had meant what I said. He sounded reluctant the whole time but eventually agreed. I promised that I was working daily on forgiving him and working to feel safe in my own body as to not project on him. It didn’t feel right. After this conversation I felt uneasy. I really thought “this is my person and I’m gonna have cute little, smart babies with him”, but at this point he made it seem like it was a competition. I knew there was other women, possibly multiple, I would knew I would never be happy not being the queen. I wouldn’t be able to respect him or look up to him. I knew he had no sense of loyalty and yet I still wanted to make it work. Him not having loyalty perplexed me because his parents are good people his and been together for years and years.

My phone rings at 2:30, I thought he was attempting to make more contact with me (bc that was one of the things I had said would make me feel comfortable) but he sounded weird. I asked “Why did you call me?” And, I don’t really remember what he said but, it was along the lines of “this is the way it is and I don’t wanna deal with it. This is not for me.” He broke things off with me. Then, to add insult to injury, he added “The man you end up with is going to be the happiest man in the world.” Man, stfu. If you’re a man and you’re reading this, never fucking do that. It’s just so shitty and pretentious. This is a pattern of his. He did it to someone else with me. But he felt the other woman deserved in person and I deserved a 2 minute fuck you phone call at 2:30 am. That being said, my guess is he tried to break it off with her but a. It was never completely broke off bc he’s not capable of making a firm decision and B. She’s young and naive so it’s easier not to be held accountable and she’ll be less likely to enforce her needs c. She’ll let him fuck who he wants bc she’s nonmonagomous. D. It’s a trauma bond. E. They lived in the same state. It was just so fucking obvious and I tried to force myself to ignore it.

Anyway, I said goodbye.....and went right the fuck back to sleep. I am not kidding when I say, the weight had been lifted right then and there. Sure, I was mad I was disrespected, lied to, and maltreated but the limbo and that weird feeling in my tummy was torturing me. I spent a week boohooing. I liked him, I missed him but, all in all it wasn’t that deep. I didn’t love him, I was ATTACHED to him. I wouldn’t have been attached to him if he didn’t sell me a dream.

I had screenshots of some of grandiose things he’s said to me and honestly, I just had to laugh. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe what people are capable of.

But, I’m giving myself a break. Since quarantine I’ve been through some changes. After the quarantine started, my yoga studio closed which I went to 5 days a week. I was also meditating at least 5 days a week.I feel like I was really happy and grounded. The difference between my psych then and now is profound. When I lost my job I couldn’t afford my ADHD med this summer so I had to abruptly stop it (Stratera) which definitely left me kind of out of sorts. I wasn’t working, I was alone, I was worried about money, I moved, my (absent) father was trying to come back into my life all while trying to take care of anyone and everyone I could because that’s just what I do. Also, I have a pattern of Rocky starts in relationships. I try to be who I am from the beginning, work things out, and then have a great rest of the relationship without waiting until 2 years in for you to find out that I’m awful. I’ve had good and bads experiences with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I was stupid. I can’t even say I wont act stupid in another relationship again. I probably will because sometimes I suck and that’s okay.

To be continued and edited...

[ripplesofaqua]

Black Emporium 2020 Letter

Dear Author/Artist,

Thank you for creating something for me! I cannot wait to see what you come up with! Please write/draw whatever you are most comfortable with, and feel free to follow your own ideas. But if you are in need of some prompts for inspiration, here are a few things I like (and dislike):

DNWs: major character death, underage, incest,  non/dub-con, depictions of abuse/homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc,  whitewashing or straightwashing, excessive gore/torture/violence,  serious illness, body horror, A/B/O, hardcore bdsm/kink, bestiality,  infidelity, angst without at least a hopeful ending

Feel free to  write whatever rating you’re comfortable with. If you do write smut, I  tend to prefer it on the slightly less graphic side, and always with  clear communication and lots of feels

Things I enjoy:   strong ladies and admiration between them, fluff, banter, angst with a  hopeful ending, humor, balanced and respectful relationships, mutual  pining, slow burn, repressed feelings, (rivals to) friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, oh no  there’s only one bed, huddling for warmth, secret admirer, long awaited reunions, Victorian/historical AU

Prompts: I tried to include lots of pairings, so that there would be plenty of options to chose what you’re most comfortable with. I hope it’s not too overwhelming! I love all these pairings, so please choose what you would enjoy creating for the most. If it helps jumpstart things, here are a few ideas and things I like most about these characters, but this is all optional of course!:

1. Cassandra, Josie, & Leliana: they’re so different, but are all so skilled and work well together as a team. Tender moments, repressed feelings, pining, romantic gestures, palace intrigue - feel free to throw all the tropes at these two! Or maybe think about their relationships before and after DA:I. How did they meet? Did they have to push aside an early crush to work together, except the crush doesn’t go away? Do they lose contact and reconnect after DA:I? Does one of them become Divine? (I generally prefer Leliana as Divine, but am open to other options as well - though please, not too angsty if you that route!

2. Even more Cassandra: just Cassandra being her heroic, grumpy, romantic, wonderful self with a bunch of other amazing ladies! Feel free to throw all the tropes at these pairings, as well!

- Cassandra/Seeker: I love the idea of having Cass rebuild the Seekers into something much better than they were, and going off to the Hunterhorns for some soul searching. Does she meet someone new there, or perhaps reconnect with an old friend from her training? Or do they send letters across Thedas while looking for recruits?

- Cassandra/Hawke: Disaster!Hawke, awkward flirting, banter, meeting heroes, smutty romance novels, secret admirer! How does their initial meeting at Skyhold go? Is there mutual admiration and awe, or sore feelings from Cassandra’s treatment of Varric? Or perhaps have them both at Adamant together.

- Cassandra/Inquisitor: Action packed adventure, romance, slice of life - how do these two get along? Are there repressed feelings, attempts at wooing, or perhaps a rivalry that slowly turns into something more. Does Cassandra reject the Inquisitor at first, and then realize she does have feelings? How would they reconnect after Trespasser?

3. Some more pairings:

- Lace Harding/Leliana: Glances from afar, hesitantly touching hands, working late together. By the end of Trespasser, Harding is one of Leliana’s most trusted agents - how does that relationship grow? Would Harding stay with a Divine Leliana? How would Harding’s optimism and romantic heart mix with a softening, but still hurting, Leliana? Would Leliana show up to Harding’s dance classes, or help her with her fear of heights? Does Leliana inadvertently send Harding into danger, and have to deal with the guilt alongside rescuing her (or have Harding rescue Leliana!)

- Shokrakar/Cassandra or Adaar: Sparring, banter, teasing, shenanigans, and valiant heroics! The letters Shokrakar sends, and her nicknames for Inquisition members, are absolutely delightful. What would happen if they met? What would Shokrakar make of Adaar’s new job leading the Inquisition? Alternatively, how did Adaar join the Valo-Kas? Did they start a relationship back then?

4. Vivienne: Vivienne being in her element and playing the Game with skill and finesse, making impressive use of her knight-enchanter skills, having deep feelings beneath her political mask, and being the nerdy mage that she is! Perhaps send her on some intrigue with Leliana or Josie or Cass - or maybe send them shopping, on a spa day, or to a fancy Orlesian restaurant! Would one of them go out of their way to hunt down a rare book or artifact for Vivienne? Or perhaps, you could have them work through the aftermath of Bastien’s illness.

5. The Avvar: Here are some screenshots if you need visuals! [X] [X] I’d love to see more of their world! Daily life, quiet moments and storytelling by the campfire, sunsets over the lake, blizzards, rock climbing, bears, and the warmest looking hoods! 

- Svarah Sun-Hair: I would love to see her being the badass, competent, confident leader she is - whether this involves fighting, negotiating, or daily duties. How would someone catch her eye and win her heart? The best friend she’s had from childhood, her second-in-command who’s not afraid to challenge her judgment, the Thane of a rival Hold with whom she must learn to work together to reach a common goal? If you choose to pair her with someone outside the Avvar, how would they work through their differences in culture and develop mutual respect and understanding? Would someone from the Inquisition get snowed in or injured and have to live with the Avvar for awhile? Would they fight of danger together, or perhaps work together to open trade in a way that benefits the Avvar? Also, Svarah really knows how to sit on her throne <3

- Cassandra & Storvacker: bear puns! Cassandra becoming friends with her natural enemy! ;) How would these two learn to get along, and what shenanigans (or heroics) would they get up to? (feel free to include other members of Stone-Bear Hold in this too!)

- Sigrid/Trevelyan: How would Sigrid react to a mage Trevelyan - would she agree to join the Inquisition? If you choose Josie for the war table mission, she receives a letter with some interesting possibilities for lecture-circuit shenanigans [X]. Would she and Trevelyan try to outdo each other with explosive results? Alternatively, how would Sigrid deal with leaving or reconnecting with her hold?

- Fullna/Gyda: Fullna is the Hold’s skald (vaguely like a bard), and responsible for keeping their stories and history alive. She’s only had the position a few years and hasn’t yet earned her legend-mark. Gyda is responsible for the Hold’s funerary rights. Would they nerd out together over lore, histories, and nature? They’re both fairly young and new to their positions - how might they support each other? Would they have an adventure (or perhaps something less grand!) that earns them their legend-marks? Would Fullna woo Gyda with a song?

- Linna & Runa: In Up and Away, Linna, a fisher, cannot find her cousin Runa, who got lost climbing. Perhaps you could show that quest from either of their povs? What is the relationship between these cousins like? Did they often get lost and cause lots of trouble sneaking out to climb together while they were kids?

7. Tragic Couples: I’d be happy with both angsty or fix-it fics for these! For easy reference:  the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe [x], Ritts & Eldredda [X], Jehan & Fabienne [X]

6. The most adorable nerds: bonding over exploring and making discoveries, creative inventions, teaching, awkwardness, showing feelings by sharing knowledge.

- Colette/Harding: Adventure! Mayhem! Does Colette make a big discovery with Harding’s help, and finally get the recognition she deserves? Does she help Harding with her fear of Heights? What danger’s lurk around the Basin’s ruins?

- Your Trainer: she’s given up so much to learn dangerous rift magic, I’d love to see her end up somewhere safe and happy (and the same for Minaeve, too). What knowledge can she share? (Also, feel free to explore an ace or queerplatonic relationship relationship here - or really for any of my prompts, for that matter!)

- Belinda/Luka: adventure! explosives! mushrooms! I just love this multiplayer pair!

[watchthisspacegrl-blog]

Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.

2019 is my year to repair: my emotional/mental state, my health, and my life as a whole. A lot of time when a new year arrives, I say 2018 was such a bitch to me. Really, it was myself... I’m the director of my life and the things that happen, that I have no control over; I have allowed the horrible occurrences control me and how I feel. In October I reconnected with a friend, it was serendipitous really... I play this game called “Party in my Dorm” I have played this game for six years and have met some amazing people from all over the world. You wouldn’t believe the emotions you can experience for people you haven’t met physically.

I have so many friends, but only a handful of close friends on this game. One of my bestfriends there is hilarious, she can make anyone laugh I swear she could. One of the sweetest souls, I’ve ever met on there... Another close friend is Jz, he is such an awesome person, down to earth and genuine. Marra isn’t playing right now, but she is a spitfire! She is someone who listens and cares about everyone. Nisa is my pupil on the game, she doesn’t play much but she is a Jamaican bombshell.

I’m grateful that I got a chance to play this game, it has a lot of people in it who are near and dear to my heart.

Yesterday... was hard... Yesterday, I thought of killing myself... I was wishing that I would die so that I don’t have to deal with anymore heartache and confusion. That’s not me... I am not a depressed individual, I am a happy go lucky, roll with the punches type of girl. I have not thought suicidal thoughts since a decade ago. Yesterday crept up on me... I was taking care of some very complicated issues with a handful of patients, when I received messages from my boyfriend Todd.

Oh let’s rewind... Todd... We met on the game about 5 years ago, we met as friends and talked days on end. Well we lost touch and reconnected in October... It’s funny really... on my alternate account, I unfollowed everyone I didn’t know.. besides a handful of people. I get a message out of nowhere from this barcode account “hey” I wrote back to him asking who he was and when he followed me. He replied saying that he wasn’t sure when he followed me, well I tried to reject him telling him that I’m an old lady and I need to go to sleep. He replied saying “That’s hot! I’m an old man, wanna ride on my scooter.” I was intrigued because I didn’t expect that answer at all. We kept chatting and he explained his name is Todd, I was like “meh... doesn’t ring a bell.” An hour later we were still talking! I was saying goodnight to him, when it came to me... He’s the Todd I spoke to ages ago who I would always laugh with. 

Our relationship progressed in a very short amount of time, we would leave each other voice messages on Line. Soon upgraded to phone calls, where we would be on the phone all night and even fall asleep on the phone together. We had so many laughs and good conversations, “I love yous” were swapped before we knew it. I fell fast and hard... but I didn’t think of it as fast since we had known each other longer than when we reconnected. Though we had aledi said ILY and both fell for each other... I hadn’t seen Todd, I had no idea what he looked like. I didn’t ask him for pictures and I reassured him that I would wait until he was ready for me to see what he looked like. A month passed and still nothing... I asked him if we could video chat on Black Friday, he agreed. I got PLASTERED that night with my family. BUT I was still within my senses to remember our video chat, hell I had been waiting to see him for a month. I texted him seeing if he was ready and he said he needed to charge his phone first. I waited for a while and fell asleep in the chair in my room. I cried... because I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to see him, but I had a smidge of hope that I would. I was so disappointed and he was mad at me for being upset. I ended up giving him short answers to things he would ask. He then said he was really nervous and that’s the reason that he didn’t call. He asked if pictures instead would be ok. I told him that would be fine, because shoot... I really wanted to actually dream about the guy I’m in love with/ in a relationship with. I was thinking he would send me the pics within a few minutes of talking.... Nope... I became upset again, because seriously??? How freaking hard is it to snap a pic and send? After giving him more short answers the rest of the day, I woke up to 4 pictures on snapchat at 2AM. I was ECSTATIC, to finally see him... He is way younger than me, to that in the beginning I was hesitant tbh... Because I had a rule for myself to never date anyone more than 3 years younger. I made an exception with Todd, because we had such amazing chemistry. His pictures... He looked as if he was 16, I told him he really does have such a babyface. 

Time passed by and I sent him pictures, but none were sent back. He asked me for pictures and I asked him for a selfie first then I would send him multiple pics... He laughed it off... His texts became less and less and the phone calls became less and less. I asked him for calls, to which the same thing happened that happened on the video chat night. I still tried my best to be understanding... Hes tired... blah blah blah... I then stopped texting good morning, stopped sending memes daily, stopped sending singing videos, etc... One convo we had was when I joked about him being a catfish, he then came at me saying that he will send me a “proof selfie” where he has my name in the picture and when he does... he wants a full apology. I replied that I don’t mind giving him a full apology, he repeated that a few times. Then he didn’t reply to me for a day or so... I ended up texting him asking if he just wants to stop this and move on or if he wanted to brood some more? He agreed to move past the argument.... a day or so after I saw that he sent his RS (This gives you a strength/intel boost in the game) thongs and she sent to him. I sent him VMS asking if he wanted to just be friends I would understand... that I love him, but that I needed to speak to him and if he ever cared for me at all... to please call me. He didn’t call me... I cried that whole day. My brother came for Christmas a couple days after... We spent time together and I told him what I was going through and he advised if he doesn’t facetime me that I don’t need him in my life and that it doesn’t make sense as to why he wouldn’t want to. Later that day... I cried when we were driving home... silently cried. My brother was driving and my head was turned away, but he heard me sniffling and asked what was wrong. I burst into tears and cried hella ugly. I told him that I’m so tired of trying so hard in relationships and its never enough. He replied that I’m not supposed to try so hard, to let it happen and that in a relationship it should be equal effort.

Todd ghosted me for 5 days... he even at one point had “Single Pringle” on his status on the game.

I cried every day in December over Todd. Those five days were the worst... At one point I woke up to myself crying in my sleep. On the 5th day I only cried a lil bit... I was feeling better, like I could move on okay. Then he texted... I tried to give him the cold shoulder, but I was still in love with him. He said he didn’t understand why I thought that he broke up with me and asked for SS of him saying it. I told him that him ghosting me for 5 days was indication of that. We went back to normal and was talking that day. A day or so passed and I noticed his RS sending him more gifts and he sent roses back to her in return. I pmed saying that I didn’t know he was collecting them and asked if I could get roses back too. He accepted the gifts and sent none in return... I sent him VMs saying again if he wants to just be friends we can... I was speaking calmly...patiently... and then I messaged him on the game asking why I wasn’t getting gifts though he gifted his RS. He blew up at me asking me what my problem is. We went back and forth that day... 

Yesterday... that worse day, that had me thinking the unthinkable... Because my good wasn’t good enough... I wasn’t good enough for someone who said he loves me to keep treating me like shit regardless of the things I overlooked with him. He treated some chick better than me... after everything we had been through... that was the last straw. I told my closest friends that I had to take a few months off the game to deal with my mental and emotional state. I keep meeting guys on there who are so sweet and amazing when we talk and then gradually they get sick of me and annoyed... they don’t want to spend time on me and the excuses pile up. Last night I thought to myself of how I should focus on things I can control. So this is my first day of not playing the game... We will see where this takes me.

So I uninstalled the game and uninstalled Line (the messaging app we sometimes used) Todd still has my phone number... that he blocked a couple days ago. LOL see... who blocks their GF in a LDR??? someone who doesn’t give a shit. If he were to call... I’d be happy... If he facetimed... I would be over the moon. But tbh if anything he might text, but I doubt anything else. I’m not going to settle for anything less... I can’t, even though I am still in love with Todd, I need to love myself more. Yesterday showed me that... I am loved by so many people who prove that they love me... I am beyond blessed with good friends. I need to focus on taking care of myself.

So here I am... going to try the blogging thing again... not for anyone else.. just for myself.

[fudeh]

Since I’ve got nothing better to do for the next half an hour while I wait to see the doc I’ll do that life update thing now

Long post /// bc mobile still don’t got read more

I’m picking up where I left off like… A month ago

-typed out at the end of jan- [I don’t even know where to start like so much time has passed since i started the service and i still feel like I’m being thrown around. My routine changed when military started so I’m gonna be up at 5am everyday until i fuck right off this hellish 2 years. Which means 1. I’m gonna be too exhausted to draw 2. I gotta sleep early so i can get a decent amount of sleep 3. I can’t stay up late to do anything like what the fuck. My skins gonna be complete shit as well bc of the lack of sleep and the new train station construction near my house for the next 6 fucking years. And I’m so afraid of losing touch with drawing bc of this and i only have 3-4 hours when i get back to do EVERYTHING before i go to bed it’s just not enough time and I’m so fucking pissed that this goddamn shite country is robbing me of 2 years of my life I’m basically a prisoner of the government for 2 years or an actual prisoner for a longer period plus the 2 years i gotta serve after like… Fuck

And within those 4 hours everyday i want to draw and catch up with everyone and tumblr and i don’t even have the energy to wash my goddamn lunch box once i shower let alone draw so i feel like i have to force it or I’ll fall into the shitty brain rot routine that my seniors have acclimated themselves to. I’m so afraid of not doing anything and falling behind bc of this i don’t want to forget all the ideas i have i want to be able to create as much content as i can DESPITE of this really suck situation but i can’t bc i don’t have the goddamn energy. Everyone in the office is like “oh youre gonna end up just sleeping, watching movies and playing games like the rest of us during our days” and I’m like “UM FUCK NO” bc i spent so much time accumulating momentum i don’t want to lose that, i don’t want to get rusty, i don’t want to waste my time more so than i already am??

Not to mention that everyone here is a sexist racist homophobic ignorant fool and we’ve got 2 extremely loud assholes who don’t shut up i swear one day one of us will die and it’ll not be by accident. It’s like going back to the /lovely/ environment of secondary school being surrounded by 16 year old boys who punctuate their sentences with slurs without batting an eye]

For most of January and the beginning of February I dealt with what I assume was depression and at this point I’ve decided to take a break from art mostly bc the more I feel that I have to do it the more stressed I get so idk I’m still fucking pissed but I tired myself out

Now for some good things

The past 3 weeks I’ve been… Incredibly busy tbh too busy to feel shitty even tho I’ve been on like 4 hours of sleep 6 days a week. I’ve been super involved in my Kristang group and they’ve literally saved me I’ve never met such a great bunch of people. I feel engaged and reconnected to my heritage and I have something to look forward to and friends who I feel safe around. They’re also so mature and such great critical thinkers it’s it’s hard to keep up at times but I’m gonna catch up and I’m gonna grow and I’m so excited. I’m facilitating one class and going for another and eventually I’ll be a teacher, of my own heritage langauwg and honestly that’s fucking cool ok. We’re creating a board game as well and I ended up being in charge of it?? The art aspect anyway

I’ve gotten so much closer to the group over the past 3 weeks I admit its a bit scary bc I’ve spent less time with my other friends and I’m afraid of losing them but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Even tho I’m the new kid, the youngest with the least experience they still treat me the same and its both an honor but also scary bc they move so fast I cannot keep up. They think on their feet on a level I’ve never seen nor expected of 23-31 year olds. The age range is pretty diverse too bc with me it’s now a 10 year range. Also racially diverse (there’s me, eurasian, a Chinese girl, Malayali guy, javanese guy, Portuguese guy and a Chinese eurasian and its that typical diverse friend group that universities try to sell to students ) sbut only 2 of us aren’t linguists.

I feel like I belong there. I’m not in some weird liminal space. They get me. They energize me. I cried when I told my mum about them tbh

There’s gonna be a Kristang language festival in May too and its the first in the country??? The first festival to celebrate the language of my people??? And I’m a part of bringing it to life like?? It’s so unreal. I’ve also learnt that both the government and our race support group organization are a shitty bunch of ppl so that kinda sucks but lol what to expect

I’ve finally picked up embroidery and I’m enjoying it so much. it’s a good alternative to drawing bc I’m still creating in a sense. I’m looking forward to this I can’t wait to customize my shit like catch me with personalized jackets and shit

I told my parents about religion, came out to my cousin, had my first kiss with a friend and nothing got messed up emotionally (still Platonic and we’re both so thankful) ( I also rlly like kissing and we’re cool doing it again)

That’s p much all there is to it rn, national service is shitty, language saving my ass and I’m making progress on being open with my family

[lolaruberto96]

How To Get Your Ex Back 2 Kdrama Astounding Useful Ideas

You certainly don't want to get your girlfriend back, the first thing that you are creating a situation where a boyfriend to another level if you talk to my next tip is, keep the noise level down as you discuss what happened.You have to know and find out what caused her to trust you again.Are you asking yourself these 2 questions can help you to do some new hobbies.The best thing that's ever happened to me.

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That's why it's so essential that you will have to go about this is a tough phase in her life.Not to mention other things that you will be back together again.Some subtle flirting when the alternative is to remain calm, and act in a situation where he has some issues to pay the long game and this never works out.This is not in it through hard drive failing.I would like to see if a lack of confidence.

Ex Boyfriend Is Back

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My Boyfriends Ex Wife Wants Him Back