#ive decided to just become content that nothing i have will ever have labels and this is infact how i am

[dykeplants]

i have found somewhere over the rainbow calms the feelings of my ears being stabbed and grinded into dust by screeching pterodactyls

[safetycar-restart]

OH NO!!! i cant BELIEVE i missed boypussy!seb object insertion woe be me i am INCONSOLABLE (i went down with a cold so bad it was like a nosedive and the disturbance in the force brought me back to life but TOO LATE oh no)

i will at least come scream at you about it as it is all i have left in life 🥲

because hello ????? walking in on him masturbating is always fun and i think A LOT of it would be the most unexpected place/time because when he is horny he is horny and he would just shrug shove a hand down his pants in the first semi-private corner he can find and think nothing of it. So usually he isn't fazed at all by your appearance but now you walk in and he is suddenly shy? hiding, covering himself up?? and was that ?? was that a bottle between his thighs ???? shels hello???????

and YES the fun thing about water bottles is how easy it is to include temperature play and YES getting a fun-shaped water bottle and putting it in a freezer would be PHENOMENAL but also can i rase you a boring-shaped round one that is on a thick side and filled with hot water?

and it's mostly unplanned, you just decide last-minute while he's choosing panties that you might want a bottle on hand for today and this is the only safe-looking one (no label glue or scratchy cap etc) you can find quickly, and then you fill it so it's heavier and easier to handle and turn the tap to hot in a bout of inspiration.

you genuinely don't expect it to have much effect on top of the fact that it's A Water Bottle, but then you press it up playfully between his thighs and he just freezes? His eyes go huge and mouth falls open when you nudge it about just a little and then he is scrambling for your wrist frantically so he can make you hold it still while his hips slide up and down it in a beautifully obscene motion you don't think you've ever seen him make? he opens himself with his free hand impatiently, desperately trying to angle his hips so that the hot side of the bottle presses simultaneously against his clit and entrance, and you're just, entranced by how smooth the glide becomes in barely a couple of motions because he is so wet it gets smeared all over the bottle instantly, and then he starts whining helplessly because he cant get it to press against him snugly enough so you snap out of your trance to help him find a better position

and then when you get it inside him--it's cooled down a bit by then but is still warm, and you can't imagine what would've happened if it was still properly hot because even as is he comes so quickly and so messily, all of him seizing up, and oh my god it never occurred to you before to look into heating-up toys but maybe you should?

lmao SORRY idk what happened here evidently i am in water bottle seb land now. i feel like there should be a cheerful little 'kink unlocked' icon on my forehead or sth

Lwmon 🍋

also sorry i went quiet for a hot bit ive been through like 4 time zones in under 3 days bc i had to get to a uni where im doing masters abroad but now im HERE and im SO FUCKING HAPPY i cant even tell you and then i barely been to like 2 days of classes and my body was like yup off with you and i went down like a shot plane with im-hoping-not-the-flu but anyway

Oh my god this is AMAZING. Lemon anon you are truly incredible I always look forward to your ramblings after I post Seb content.

Firstly, I’m kinda in love with Seb always masturbation around the house? I think at first he’d be really shy about it (which is less to do with being shy about masturbating and more about being shy about not shaving his pussy and being worried about it you not wanting to always see it). But then once he’s comfortable? Absolutely all over the house.

You arrive and Seb is sitting on the couch with his hands down his pants or touching himself in the bathroom. And especially in the gym? You guys have your own gym at home and the amount of times you’ve walked in on Seb masturbating mid workout is ridiculous.

But anyway back to the object insertion idea:

I had never even thought of using hot water but oh my god that’s brilliant??

And Seb wouldn’t have thought about either. He doesn’t expect it at all. He’s more focused on the fact that you’ve brought a thick waterbottle for him, happily spreading his legs because he’d like it right now please.

Then you run the bottle over his folds and holy fuck it’s hot??

Seb doesn’t even know how to deal with that, has never felt anything like that before and he needs to have that against his pussy IMMEDIATELY.

He grabs your wrist, holding your wrist tight to make sure you don’t move as he grinds against your he bottle. It feels so good.

You’re entirely entranced by how good he looks, how desperately he’s grinding against the bottle. And he needs it inside him as soon as possible.

Seb almost never opens himself up, but you’re holding the bottle against him and he’s so desperate and he just has to start opening him.

But the poor thing can’t get the angle right?? He’s trying to have the bottle against his clit and his fingers inside and it’s not working he needs help!!

Maybe you let him hold the bottle against his clit? He holds the bottle like it’s a vibrator, pressing it against his clit as you open him up enough to take the bottle and then take the bottle from him to fuck him with it.

The bottle isn’t as warm as it was before, but Seb loves it either much. He whines and tenses to quickly, cumming almost instantly.

So yeah, you’re gonna have to start looking into heated toys.

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[penumbra-rp]

Congratulations Dean, you have been accepted for the role of Rabastan Lestrange!

“Does reputation matter to you?”

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly.

Admin Ash: Dean, from the moment we heard of your interest in Rabastan, we had a feeling he had just the vibe that would be perfect for you, and this application only proved how right we were. Rabastan is hilarious, he’s animated, he’s completely and utterly obnoxious -- just as you stated in his traits -- and I found myself cackling out loud to his antics and the numerous ridiculous things he said. Much like the gem above. He’s a proper nuisance -- wearing his place at the bottom of his graduating class like a medal and taking utter pride in spicing up any dinner party -- and I found that I adored him all the more for it. I know he’s going to give many of our Death Eaters a headache that’ll be too hard to shake. I’m so excited that you’ll be bringing our rambunctious rockstar to us! 

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Dean

AGE: 21

YOUR BIRTHDAY: July 4th 1997

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE:  GMT

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Rabastan Lestrange

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Robert Sheehan

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: July 29th

PERSONALITY:

+ Persuasive

+ Comical

+ Boisterous

- Argumentative

- Obnoxious

- Impressionable

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

‘What a beautiful little girl you have,’ strangers would coo, easily mistaking the boy’s long dark eyelashes as a feminine feature. The compliment felt like a stab in the heart for a woman who had mothered two sons when she had spent the majority of her second pregnancy dreaming longingly for a daughter.

The minute he had said his first words, the Lestranges knew he would be nothing like their first child. Rabastan was demanding, his mother’s disinterest and father’s sternness only making him thirst more for their approval. He’d approach the world as if it were a stage and his friends and family was his audience. Every move calculated strategically as a plead for more attention, plots intertwined intricately to remove wishfully himself from his older brother’s seemingly overbearing shadow and earn his own moment in the spotlight. When that didn’t work, Rabastan turned towards misbehaving. Playing cruel tricks on Rodolphus which were reciprocated with pure disdain from the young teenager, saying inappropriate things when there were guests around and neglecting to follow any rules. There were no limits, so long as he knew it would obtain him the measliest bit of recognition.

As his troublesome ways manifested and endangered on becoming a larger problem, Rabastan was swiftly packed up and sent to a private school. One where the tuitions were sky high since there was the promise to straighten out unruly children and turn them into well-behaved future politicians and lawyers. The first couple of years, Rabastan was no stranger to disciplinary procedures. Hours upon hours spent in detention, letters sent home on numerous occasions and not to mention the extra load of homework he’d receive on the basis that he never seemed to be listening in class. Yes, within the three years of his enrolment, the youngest Lestrange was fast becoming one of the rare cases that the school couldn’t fix. Foreseeably a failure in the eyes of his teachers and his parents.

That was, of course, until they decided to place the boy in front of a piano. Fingers gliding effortlessly across ivory keys and filling the room with delicate twinkling accents. What was meant to be another amercement spun into Rabastan’s saving grace, the first time he’d receive acknowledgement for the right reasons and actually feel some contentment in what he was doing. When he’d returned home that year for the summer, his piano lessons continued. Quickly followed by learning the guitar, the violin and even the saxophone. Essentially, it was considered to be a miracle, at long last, they’d found the one thing that installed some calm into Rabastan’s relentless frenzy of a personality.

Throughout the years, Rabastan’s creativity and musical talent only appeared to flourish. Carefully written lyrics sang in perfect pitch over another one of his original guitar riffs, an angelic voice filtering through the house and reverberating a gentle symphony in the bleak hallways. But when the time came, the answer was a clean cut ‘no’ to his proposal of studying anywhere else other than the Slytherin school of Social Business. Despite his talents, his father would have sooner fallen into an early grave than see one of his son’s graduating with anything that wasn’t a business degree.  

The confinements the course held over his time to express artistic freedom entirely reignited Rabastan’s dormant compulsion to rebel. Skipping one too many classes and spending more time drinking than he ever did in the library. When it came to graduating, the life of the party and class clown unsurprisingly had barely scraped the mark. Proudly taking the place at the bottom of his class and leaving the school entirely unqualified to fulfil a role in the family business.

Rabastan had won. One last swipe of his father’s credit card was enough to book a couple of days in a recording studio and the rest, as they say, was history. Songs that he’d masterfully been pouring all of his efforts into during his studies turned to meticulously crafted pieces of art. With a pretty face and sleek style, it wasn’t long before a record label picked him up and churned him into a full-fledged rockstar. Fame and notoriety came second nature. Orchestrating publicity stunts with his PR team and spreading his own rumours were all part of the game in establishing his very own empire. It was as if Rabastan was created for this fast set lifestyle, stepping on other people’s toes so he could climb the social ladder right to the very top.

Rabastan Lestrange had become a household name. Securing a number one in the UK charts for three consecutive months and selling out venues shortly after the release of his debut album. His quick-witted opinions and outrageous interviews going viral across social media, gaining him the admiration of many and resentment of others. It wasn’t long after that, that his family name would call on his like a curse to act dutifully to another cause.

Owning one of the major organisations that formed the frameworks of the Sacred 28 meant that the Lestrange family were no strangers to the acts of Death Eaters. Regularly, it had been part of the dining room chatter that Rabastan was effectively escorted away from, untrusted with the secrets that Rodolphus’ silver tongue was so often wrapped around. That was until they’d seen an opportunity in the younger Lestrange’s childish arrogance and increasing influence he held over the public. Rabastan’s lust for trouble and manipulative discourse fit suitably within the skill sets of a Death Eater. They would use him as a middle man, putting his sweet talk and skilled bribery to good use and when that failed, he’d follow precise orders and discard of the target.

If it weren’t for Rodolphus’s involvement, Rabastan would have never of handed his loyalty to the organisation as easily as he had. Though the Dark Lord may be the ringleader, for Rabastan this went further than ranks. It was about blood. He’d never been that ideal, pristine version of the man his parents anticipated that he’d be. Dismissing controversies to the press with blatant arrogance and refusing to comment on anything associated with Lestrange Industries and the warfare it supported. This was a chance to prove himself, to his bloodline, he was one of them.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

“Adoring fans that scream your name, music royalties, fancy events, groupies,” Rabastan lists off one by on his fingers before scoffing, “no, you’re right, I should really go beg my darling big brother for a space in the family business, I’d be a really sexy secretary for a businessman- I mean, picture me in a pencil skirt.” Rabastan puckers his lips at the thought, using his hand to fan himself down, “my apologies, I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

Running a hand below his chin, he’s selecting his next words carefully. “Hmm, now who do I hand out this chunk of free promotion to if not myself… No, really, I say I like something and the sales skyrocket the next day, I guess it’s my charm.” Reclined in his chair Rabastan springs back up once the perfect song comes to mind, “Have you ever heard of The Cheeky Girls?” his own laughter surrounds him in a pitch almost as harmonic as his singing, “In all seriousness, Club Tropicana by Wham! really just radiates my personality.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly. “It’s been said that I’m like marmite, you love me or you hate me. Either way makes no difference to me. This is where my manager comes swanning in to warn me to play nicely with my dearest interviewer, but you know why my fans love me? It’s because I’m genuine, I’m not going to feed them all this bullshit as other singers do- that reminds me! Buy my new EP, available now on iTunes.” he punctuates with a charming wink, though his tone was sarcastic his intent is entirely serious.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

“Mummy and Daddy wanted a little girl so badly, then when I turned out to be a right old diva they still weren’t impressed” He can’t fight the look of pure delight that rules his expression, even as a boy his parents distaste in his demeanour had been hugely entertaining. “Truth is I like being the black sheep of the family, it’s satisfying work for me. That and I make our dinner parties a lot more enjoyable, I inject a healthy bit of personality into the dining room conversations and stop people from falling asleep in their soup bowls, you know?… for example, bear versus shark, who would win? Obviously, it’s the bear.”

v. What languages can you speak?

“Most days I can hardly even speak English,” he declares humorously, “I speak enough French to get by thanks to private schooling. You know the basics… Voulez-vous coucher avec moi,” he’d definitely learned that from Lady Marmalade, not his expensive education.

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“The drugs- Kidding!” he’s aware that he’s yet to answer one question sincerely. “For all my beautiful fans out there, please know that I would NEVER participate in the massive consumption of cocaine, but I didn’t say anything about ecstasy.” Rabastan pauses long enough to make them feel uncomfortable, visibly revelling in the awkward silence. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m joking, again. I don’t know what I’d save, I could easily replace anything. So maybe my wallet.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

His lips are pressed together in contemplation, finally a question that couldn’t be glossed over with humour or shocking statements. “The Slytherin School of Social Science,” as he answers, he gags to dramatise his disdain. “I wanted so badly to study Literature under the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, but daddy dearest was refusing to financially support me if I didn’t follow in the family’s footsteps. ‘No son of mine is walking around reading Bridget Jones’ Diary’” Whilst imitating his father’s hoarse voice, his expression changes to an unnatural dark grimace and wags his finger in the air. “-Great book, by the way. So that’s the story of how I became a Business graduate and the bottom of the class.” A nostalgic sigh pronounces itself from his lungs as he stares dreamily into the distance, “oh the glory days.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“@RabastanLestrangeMusic, that’s the one I’m meant to plug anyway, or my publicist will have me by the throat- little does she know, I’d enjoy that,” he glances over his shoulder to see if his manager is watching before looking back to them with a delighted grin, “I do have this lesser known Instagram account, @Rab_a_stan, it’s got a couple of thousand followers, I started it last week and I put really weird unfiltered shit on there- wait can I swear during this interview? I never asked, fuck.”

[buglersboots]

My Experience with Prostate Cancer

I don't post this wanting anyone to feel sorry for me. I am pretty much recovered from this and am back to hiking 8-10 miles, lifting weights (although I'm not back to my pre-surgery poundage), bicycling 12-15 miles on the road, and 6-10 miles on the trails on my mountain bike. It's just something I want to get off my chest, and the anonymity afforded here makes it easier to say. And who knows, it may give encouragement to a person who is dealing with prostate cancer now.

The genesis of my story was late 2006 or early 2007, my yearly physical check up. My doctor said that since I was 45, he needed to run a PSA test to establish my baseline. About a week later, the doctor's office called and said that my PSA was abnormal and that he had scheduled an appointment with a urologist for follow-up. I kept the appointment with the urologist. He did the normal finger test and said that everything felt right. That was when I learned that a normal PSA is below 3 and that my score was above 10, a certain indication that I had prostate cancer. The urologist scheduled a date for what would become the first of several biopsies of my prostate.

I spent the time between that first meeting with the urologist and the biopsy learning about prostate cancer. First, when caught early, prostate cancer is almost always curable. Second, the cure has some unfortunate, life-long, and life-changing side effects. The most alarming are impotence, no more cum at orgasm, and varying degrees of incontinence. For an active person like me, the prospect of wearing diapers for the rest of my life was not something I looked forward to. Even worse, at 45, I still had hopes of having children, and the idea of being a permanent bottom was not appealing.

The day for the biopsy came, and I must admit that it was not as painful as I feared. Then came the waiting. Do I have cancer or not? If I have cancer, is it localized and treatable? Or has it spread, and I only have a limited number of days left? A week later, back at the urologist to get the results of the biopsy. Good news! No cancer in the biopsy! A month of worry and fret for nothing! But the urologist didn't sound as enthusiastic. Even though he removed twelve plugs from an organ the size of a walnut, all that meant was that there was no cancer in the samples. With my PSA as high as it was, it was a certainty that there was cancer in my prostate.

The next ten years included semiannual trips to the urologist for blood tests and finger tests. My PSA stayed consistently in the high 12s and low 13s. I endured two more biopsies, both of which were negative for cancer. As I said, the biopsy was not really painful, but for the next day or two, there is blood in your pee, and it takes four to six weeks before your semen is white again. But biopsies can damage the nerves that cause an erection. I don't know if it was the result of the biopsies or just my getting older, but my erections went from pointing up to the sky to 45° pointing to the ground.

In 2017 my PSA started rising and at my fall examination, it was over 17. My urologist recommended an MRI this time, saying that an MRI looked at the entire prostate rather than just a sample, and that it would find cancer anywhere in the prostate. Insurance balked at this, but my urologist was able to persuade them to cover the procedure. As with the biopsies before, the results of the MRI were negative for cancer. I dodged the bullet yet again.

My PSA continued to rise, and by the fall of 2018, it was over 23, a full ten points above what had been my normal reading. This time, my urologist wanted to do an extensive biopsy of between 24 and 36 cores. This would require that I be sedated and I would have to have someone drive me back home afterward. Finding a person willing to drive an hour to the hospital, wait two hours while I have the procedure done, and then another hour back home is a challenge for a single person with no family nearby and whose friends all have full-time jobs, but I did manage to get someone willing to kill half his day for me.

I arrive at the hospital and either insurance denied the extensive biopsy or my urologist had a change of heart, but he only took 14 cores. No need to be sedated, no need for a driver, another week of waiting for the results.

November 14, 2018, the results. My urologist walks into my examination room with papers in hand and says you have cancer. OK, is this one of the slow growing cancers that you do watchful waiting with or is it more serious? You have five cores that came back positive for cancer. Two have Gleason Scores of 3 + 3 = 6, two have Gleason scores of 3 + 4 = 7, and one has a Gleason Score of 4 + 3 = 7. These last three are concerning. In addition to that, one core showed cancer in 50% of the sample. The good news is that none of the cores showed perineural invasion, so we can fix you. At his last comment, I said to him that I know he didn't mean it like this, but I couldn't help but picture in my mind someone taking their dog to the vet to be fixed, especially given the similarities of the outcomes. We both had a good laugh over that.

November 29, 2018, preop consultation. During the two weeks following my diagnosis of cancer, I did a lot of research on treatment for prostate cancer. In addition to the three common treatments: surgery, radiation, hormonal therapy, I also learned about several other promising treatment methods in trials that did not result in impotence and incontinence. We discussed each one of the promising new treatment methods, and for each one, he explained why I was not a good candidate for inclusion in a trial. That left the three traditional treatment methods. He recommended surgery as the best option, because if the cancer comes back in the future, radiation or hormonal therapy are viable and relatively easy to do. In addition to that, I would still have viable sperm to harvest if I ever decided to start a family. Then I asked if he would do the nerve sparing surgery. He explained that even though my cancer was limited to one side of the prostate and had not penetrated the perineural, my high PSA, more than 3 positive cancer cores, a 4 + 3 = 7 Gleason Score, and at least one core with more than 35% cancer made me a poor candidate for nerve sparing surgery. So much for me ever being able to get a hard on by myself again. :(

Monday, January 7, 2019, surgery. Don't ask me anything about that day because I don't remember anything after they attached the IV to put me under. I was told that several people came by after surgery and that I carried on intelligent conversations with them. I'll take their word for it. My first post operation memory is waking up the evening after the surgery with crust on my face from my eyes down to my chin, like I had been crying. Was it from pain or because I just lost the ability to have sex on my own? I'm not sure. I don't remember being in pain, but they pump you full of pain killers after surgery also.

Tuesday, January 8, 2019, discharge. After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, coffee, orange juice, and biscuits, the discharge nurse enters. She provides instructions about how to care for the six incisions in my abdomen, how to care for and clean the Foley catheter, instructions for and limits to my physical activity for the next week, instructions about when to call the doctor or go back to the hospital if certain things happen, and prescriptions for half a dozen meds -- pain pills, antibiotics and such. I am out of the hospital by 10 AM the day after surgery. My driver is kind enough to take me to the pharmacy to pick up the meds. Why is the pharmacy always in the back of the store? It's not like people really want to walk to the back of the store the day after surgery.

Friday, January 11, 2019, return trip. In the four days since the surgery, I followed the discharge instructions as best I could. Don't stay seated for too long, walk at least once every hour for as far as you are able, keep the wounds clean, no lifting, take meds as instructed. But I had not had a bowel movement since the surgery, and it takes less and less food for me to feel full at each meal. After breakfast Friday morning, I try to take my morning meds with a glass of water. That was too much. I barely made it to the bathroom before I began to throw up the contents of my stomach. Uh-oh, the discharge papers say that throwing up is serious and to return to the hospital.

Back at the hospital, a series of x-rays and other tests results in a tube going up my nose, down my throat, and into my stomach to draw out the contents of my stomach. That was an experience I will not wish upon anyone. By that evening, it was determined that I needed to walk as much as I could, so a nurse came in every hour, helped me out of bed and I walked. At first, it was just in the room, and not too bad. By mid-day Saturday, it was "We need you to walk from your room, down the hall and to the nurses station and back." So here I am, showing my hiney to anyone who looks, dragging a rolling stand with my IV bags with one hand, a tube coming out of my nose, and my catheter bag in my other hand. What a frightful sight I was! The night nurse was a really cute, and really nice male nurse who was kind enough to get me a second gown to drape over my shoulders and hide my back side. He also set off my gaydar, I know you are not supposed to be able to tell us from straight people, but sometimes you just have to wonder. For some reason, I decided to lift my gown and look at crotch that evening, and I got the surprise of my life. My balls were the size of grapefruits and my dick had swollen so much that the skin of the shaft covered the head of my circumcised penis. I pressed the call button and a young female orderly came to my room a few minutes later. I did my best to describe my predicament in a way that would not get me labeled as some sexual deviant. She got my nice male nurse. He took one look at it and got the floor nurse because he had never seen anything like it. So now, the female orderly, my male nurse, and the female floor nurse are all in my room, looking at my swollen sexual organs. The floor nurse informs us all that the swelling was normal after surgery and that it takes care of itself in a week or two. That evening I have my first bowel movement since the surgery. It's only liquid, but it's a start.

The next day, Sunday, walking to the nurses station and back wasn't enough, now I had to walk the corridors of each of the four wings of the floor. I was told walking helps the swelling go down. I still had the rolling IV stand, my catheter bag, and the tube out my nose, but thanks to my night nurse, I could at least cover my rear end. By Sunday evening, I was starting to feel much better. I'm not sure if it was all the walking, the suctioning out of the contents of my stomach, or a combination of the two, but either way, my nose hose was no longer being hooked up to the suction pump. The bowels are moving more. In addition to green liquid, I'm pooping stuff that looks like coffee grounds. The nurses have to inspect what comes out each and every time I go to the bathroom. I feel sorry for them.

Monday, January 14, 2019, the nose tube comes out. One week after surgery. I get to drink water and eat ice chips again. Mind you that I have had nothing to eat since Friday morning, and the only times I was allowed to drink was when I took my meds. Since I am now consuming liquids, the IVs are all disconnected. A nurse accompanies me for my first lap around the floor to make sure I am OK. When we return to my room she says now do another lap by yourself. So now I am left to my own to do two laps around the floor every hour. About the time the other patients get lunch, they remove my nose tube, so I am only carrying my catheter bag for my hourly laps. My night nurse tells me that he can't get over how much better I look now compared to Friday night. I have to admit, I was feeling much better, so much better, that my perverted little brain was trying to figure out how I could get him into bed with me.

Tuesday, January 15, 2019, bye-bye catheter. For the first time since Friday morning, I get to eat food. It was only jello and cream of something soup, but hey, food is food. After breakfast I go down to x-ray where they fill my bladder with saline and take x-rays to make sure that the splice in my urethra has healed and is not leaking. If the swelling has gone down, I can't tell. I still have grapefruits hanging between my legs. My urologist comes by and tells me that after they remove the catheter, I will be going home. Excited to go home. Waiting. More waiting. Lunch of more jello and cream of something different soup. Still waiting. Finally two nurses come in to remove my catheter. They draw out the saline that has been keeping it in place in my bladder, and pull. Not a good feeling, but not as painful as I imagined. One of the nurses hands me a container and informs me that before I can be discharged, I have to produce enough pee to get to the mark on its side. If anyone has made it this far in my tale and has never had prostate surgery or never had a catheter for a week, let me educate you on something. When that catheter comes out, you have no bladder control. The kidneys send urine to the bladder and it pretty much comes on out by drips and squirts. So here I am, drinking as much water as I can stand, while at the same time holding that container under my dick, trying to catch every drop that comes out. Between my swollen balls, and surgery shortened still swollen dick, I can't sit down and collect my urine as it comes out, so I have to stand and walk around the room holding the container under my dick. My pee is still stained with a little blood from the surgery and the removal of the catheter, and a few blood clots that have been swept out by all the water I'm drinking. Between the water and the walking, I'm slowly approaching the line that the nurse marked on the container when I bump into the bedside table and drop the container. It hits the floor and spills all the pee I've so carefully collected. I have to start over. I have been so focused on filling the container with my pee, that I failed to notice that it is now supper time. Supper is more jello and cream of who knows what soup. That's when the nurse informs me that help prevent congestion at the front of the hospital, the hospital discharges each floor at a particular time, and that the floor I'm on discharges at 7:30 PM no matter what the doctor says. Finally, around 7:45, an orderly makes it to my room with a wheelchair and I'm on my way home.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

sign up now for a free trial! [part vii/vii]

Ben catches feelings and decides to take things to the next level with his long-time roommate, close friend, and occasional hook-up. Rey, ever the more sensible half of the duo, decides that they should make sure a relationship between them won’t be a total disaster first.

What they need is a trial run.

Featuring: awkward run-ins with a family member, even more awkward holidays with the whole family, and fluff. So much fluff. All the fluff.

It’s the last chapter, and I’m getting unnecessarily emotional about it so just... keep reading for Ben and Rey and a shit ton of fluff and a happy ending. I’ll be here, trying to pull it together in time for the thank-you note.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI Also available on AO3.

On Saturday, Rey wakes to the sound of Ben puttering about the kitchen.

She heads to the bathroom to wash up, makes a quick stop by her room to get shorts (how long has it been since she last slept in her own bed, anyway?), and enters the kitchen to find Ben making breakfast for two.

“Hey, you,” Ben smiles, looking up briefly from the French toast he’s preparing.

“Hey,” Rey replies, wrapping her arms around him from behind.  She presses her forehead to the curve of his spine and lingers for a moment before stepping away. “What’s all this?”

“I vaguely remember saying something about making breakfast more often, so,” he shrugs, shaking his head at her when Rey snags a slice of bacon off the counter. “And hey, guess what?”

Rey heads for the fridge in search of orange juice. “What?”

“It’s Saturday,” Ben tells her, waiting for her to turn back to him before he continues. “We’ve been together for a week.”

A whole week, gone by just like that. Rey can’t even remember why she ever thought being with Ben would be anything but as easy and natural as breathing. “Would you look at that?” she murmurs in wonder, setting down the carton of orange juice to loop an arm around Ben’s neck and bring him down for a kiss. “Happy one-week anniversary, I guess.”

He comes willingly, abandoning the stove as his hands find her waist and hold her steady while she stands on her toes to reach him. “Happy one-week anniversary,” Ben echoes with a slight laugh, capturing her lips in another kiss before Rey can pull away. Her fingers find his hair of their own accord, and she can feel his hands slipping down to the back of her thighs when a telltale smell hits her nose.

“Ben,” Rey murmurs against his lips before she lets go of him and steps away. A disgruntled sound finds it way past his throat, something dangerously close to a whine – not that he’ll ever admit to it. She shakes her head at him with a grin and points at the stove. “The toast.”

The haze in his eyes instantly gives way to clear panic. “Oh, shit.”

Rey laughs and Ben grimaces and breakfast, even if the French toast ends up slightly… crispier than they’re used to, is perfect.

“So,” Ben says after breakfast, as they’re on their way to get groceries. “Now that we’ve been together for one whole week–” And here they share matching grins because sure, it’s only been a week and no one actually celebrates that but it still feels like something. “I think it’s time I tell you the full story about my life before I came here.”

Rey stops short, and their joined hands cause Ben to stop too. “Are you sure?” she asks, searching his eyes for any hint of reluctance or uncertainty. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready to talk about it, Ben. I don’t mind.”

He sighs. “As much as I hate to admit it, my father was right. I’m going to have to talk about it at some point, and right now I’d rather talk about it with you than anyone else. I want you to know who I was before this, the way I know who you used to be. You’ve never hidden your past from anyone, Rey, especially not from me. If I’m only ever going to share my past with one person, I want it to be you.”

It’s… it’s an offering, Rey realizes. It’s his way of saying that he trusts her enough to let her in, trusts her not to run away from whatever he’s about to tell her.

“Okay,” she gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand in hers as they start walking again. “If you’re ready to tell me, then I want to hear it. I want to know all of you.”

And so, Ben tells her about the child whose mother was never around, the child whose father tried his best but just couldn’t quite understand him.

“They thought maybe Luke would have a better chance at getting through, because I was always reading and learning and writing so hey, why not send the lonely kid to live with his workaholic uncle who barely had time to take care of himself?”

Eventually Ben went to law school the way his mother had, the way everyone had always expected him to, because there just wasn’t any other path for him. He wasn’t happy but he wasn’t unhappy either, and he’d resigned himself to a life of never quite being content.

“And then, halfway through my first year in college, the scandal happened,” he says quietly, clutching Rey’s hand as they walk down an aisle of instant noodles. Ben had been eighteen the year his family’s secret was revealed, which means Rey couldn’t have been any older than ten or eleven.

But even she remembers. “The press found out about your grandfather.”

“You know, my mom tried for years to figure out who could have had that information and, of that very small list of people, who would have leaked it. Sometimes I tell myself that if I had known it was Snoke all along, if I’d known he was the one responsible for putting her through hell, I never would have gone to work with him.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Rey insists. “Ben, I know you. You love your mother. There’s no way you would have agreed to even speak to him if you knew.”

Ben shakes his head. “You can’t understand what was going through my mind at the time, Rey. I think even I don’t understand. But I was angry, and hurt, and above all I felt like some stupid kid they didn’t even trust enough to share the secret with. So when Snoke offered me an internship that summer, I took it so that I wouldn’t have to work with my mom. When he told me that my grandfather was really just a misunderstood man, I fell for it because no one else had ever told my otherwise. No one in my family ever talked about my grandfather, and I finally knew why. I interned with Snoke every summer throughout college, and then I went to work for him after graduation.”

He doesn’t tell her much about the nearly four years he worked for Snoke, and Rey doesn’t push. She just stays close to him and keeps her free hand in his as they pick out groceries, as if nothing’s amiss. Even when Ben tells her about the way Snoke would berate him for hours, even when he struggles to recount the ways Snoke tried to use him against Leia, Rey ignores the urge to drop everything and pull him to her and cry for him. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to break down in public, and if Ben had wanted comfort he wouldn’t have chosen to tell her this here.

“When he announced his plan to run against my mom in the next election, it got worse. He didn’t want me to just dig up information anymore; he wanted me to actively sabotage her, to use her trust and her love for me and turn it into something twisted, something to be exploited. I couldn’t do it… Rey, I couldn’t do it,” Ben mumbles into the curve of her neck, and she puts down her basket to hold him for just a moment.

Ben pulls away eventually – maybe two minutes later, maybe two hours later. “Around that time my mother started really looking into Snoke; she could pour actual resources into him now that he was her opponent. And when they found out that he was the one responsible for the leak, when they found out that even Palpatine had labelled Snoke too distasteful to work with, my dad didn’t even hesitate. He got a copy of the file, and he jumped right into his car and drove to my office. Just… walked right into the goddamn dragon’s lair because his son had been stupid enough to get trapped there and his sole priority was getting me out.”

This has to be it, then – the part where Ben nearly killed his father, the part where he finally snapped out of it and took the first step away from that life, the first step towards becoming the man she knows today.

“He confronted me right in front of Snoke, basically gave away every single bit of information my mom’s team had. When he was done I was just… I was in shock. It felt like I wasn’t even in my own body. Both he and Snoke thought it meant that I didn’t care, that all of it changed nothing for me. So he left, and Snoke… Snoke finally realized that the file in my father’s hand had enough information to lock him away for a very long time, and the fact that I now knew all of it made me more of a liability than anything. So he ordered me to intercept my father on his way out and run him down. An accident, he said they’d call it,” Ben scoffs, his voice sharp with bitterness. “I realized later he was never going to paint it that way; the end goal was for my father to die and for me to rot in prison.”

“But he failed,” Rey points out gently when Ben falls silent. She reaches up and curves her hand around his cheek, smiles when he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. “Snoke was wrong about you. You weren’t on his side, you didn’t kill your father, and you didn’t betray your mother. Everything he ever said about you was wrong, Ben. You are so much more than Snoke could ever have hoped to be, and he thought he could blind you to that and use your potential for his own gain instead but he was wrong.”

It seems like forever before Ben speaks, before she can breathe again. “Snoke was wrong about a lot of things,” he finally says, turning his head to press a kiss to the hand on his cheek. “Like my name. What kind of idiot calls himself Kylo Ren?”

He grins, and maybe her laugh is a little too loud but she’s too fucking relieved to care about the fact that they’re standing in the frozen food aisle with tears shining in their eyes and an abandoned basket at their feet.

“I like Ben Solo much better,” Rey tells him.

“Good,” Ben smiles. “Because Rey Ren would sound so stupid.”

It takes him about two seconds to realize what he’s just said, what he’s just implied and revealed and suggested all in one breath.

Rey kisses him before he can freak out.

The next morning, with her head on his chest and his arm around her waist, Rey says, “You know, you never did answer Maz’s question.”

“Hmm?” Ben asks, his hand still tracing indecipherable patterns into her side.

Rey turns around and props herself up with one arm, the ends of her hair falling over her shoulder to brush against Ben’s chest. “Maz’s question, during lunch. Do you know what you want to do yet?”

Because he’s due to complete his master’s soon, just a few months from now, and a year after that Rey will be done with her degree too, and who knows where life will take them after that?

“I’ve been thinking,” Ben says slowly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Maybe my parents were right, when they sent me to Luke thinking that I had more in common with him than them.”

Rey furrows her brow as she tries to puzzle out what he’s saying. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I like research. And I like teaching. And I like being on campus. So maybe I should follow in my uncle’s footsteps after all and just… stay here,” Ben shrugs. “In Coruscant U. Apply to the PhD program after I graduate next year, and see where that takes me.”

“So you’d be here for… years,” Rey realizes. “You’d be here after next year, and you’d be here to see me graduate, and if I get into grad school we could still be together.”

Ben laughs, a quiet, soft thing. “Sweetheart, I was always going to make sure we’d find a way to be together. I’m not letting go of you that easily.”

She kisses him then; it would be impossible not to, not with how gentle his voice is and how happy his eyes are. “But now it’s a sure thing. We’re going to have years together.”

“Years, huh?” Ben smirks, pulling her on top of him. “Someone’s planning ahead.”

Rey lets out a little yelp at being manhandled before she braces her hands against his chest for balance. “Oh, as if you don’t already have the rest of our lives together mapped out,” she scoffs, the effect somewhat ruined by the wide grin she can’t quite hide.

Ben stills, a soft smile blooming on his face as he looks up at her. “I do,” he admits quietly, rising up to meet her. “Of course I do,” Ben murmurs right before he kisses her, and Rey wonders if you can fall in love with someone after just a week or if it’s the kind of thing that creeps up on you over a period of two long years only to suddenly make itself known.

Either way, it’s there.

Finn and Poe aren’t due to arrive till tomorrow afternoon, which is the only reason Rey lets Ben pull her into his lap halfway through the movie. Because they’ve discussed it, how they’re going to let their best friends know, and it does not involve said best friends walking in on them while they’re making out on the couch.

“What the hell is happening here?” Finn demands, his voice unnaturally high.

Rey tries to put some distance between them, but one look from Ben is enough to communicate that he needs her to stay where she is until he can… calm down. “Um,” she says, twisting around to face Finn and Poe with her shirt clutched to her chest. “Hi. I thought you guys were coming home tomorrow.”

“There’s a storm rolling in so we decided to get ahead of it,” Poe explains calmly, bringing in the last of their bags and nudging Finn out of the way. “Didn’t you get our texts?”

Her phone is charging in her room, and who knows where Ben’s is. They’ve had more important things to focus on.

“Forget about that!” Finn tells Poe, pointing at the two of them. “This! We should be talking about this!”

“We’re…” Rey turns to Ben, and she doesn’t know how they ever planned to keep this from the guys for even five minutes when she smiles like an idiot every time she so much as looks at him. At least Ben’s not much better, and they both look like fools when Rey announces, “We’re together now.”

“Finally!” Poe exclaims, a smile tugging on his lips as he roots around his pockets for his phone. “I’m really happy for you guys and I want to know all about this, but first I’ve got to make a phone call real quick.” Phone in hand, Poe wanders into the kitchen area.

Finn quickly draws their attention back to him. “Together? We leave you alone for one week and you start dating? THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T LEAVE YOU UNSUPERVISED!”

From the kitchen, Poe calls out, “Finn, honey, I’m gonna need you to stop freaking out.” And then: “Hux? It’s Dameron. You owe me a hundred bucks. Yeah, dude. No shit. For real.”

“He knew?” Finn gasps, eyes torn between his boyfriend and the couple on the couch. “Even Hux knew? How the hell did I not see this coming? Poe, why didn’t you say anything–”

“For fuck’s sake, Hux, why would I lie about–”

“Poe! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Amidst the chaos of Finn’s increasingly-high voice and Poe’s angry one-sided conversation with Hux, Ben takes Rey’s hand and asks her, eyes bright and voice teasing, “So we’re officially dating, huh?”

Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course we are,” she tells him, pressing their foreheads together. And then, very deliberately, she uses a word she’s been avoiding all week, a word that means something, a word that she’s been wanting to apply to Ben for longer than she cares to admit:

“Hi, boyfriend.”

I'm not usually one for long and teary goodbyes (I mean, yes I am but I usually hold myself back) but this one's gonna go on for a bit, I think - just like this fic.

This was originally a ficlet idea, which then turned into a full-length one-shot, which then inspired a series of ficlets, ALL OF WHICH then turned into full-length chapters in their own right. As you can see, I'm a total disaster when it comes to keeping things short and sweet. Sweet and short? I don't know, words don't make sense to me anymore, not after seven straight days of daily updates.

But it was all worth it, because you guys have been the loveliest readers I've ever had the privilege to write for. I think I'll miss interacting with you daily just as much as I'll miss writing these characters every day. Thank you so much for checking back day after day, for taking the time to leave all of these wonderful comments, and for reading my tooth-rotting fluff. I know, I know, writing should be its own reward, but let's be real: your enthusiasm and support have been the real reward here. So again, thank you so very, very much.

Moving on: I'll be taking a short break to recover from this fic, but I'll be back in a few days to participate in Reylo Week. I'm planning to write two fics for Thursday's prompt (mythology) and one for Saturday's (soulmate), all three of which I'm very excited about. I hope to see you guys then! In the meantime, if you ever wanna say hi or just scream about Reylo or anything, hit me up. I'd love to stay in touch with everyone.

Next up, for seven decades or so: Rey, Ben, and a lifetime of happiness.

[passengerskrp-blog]

S T A T U S:  P A S S E N G E R  D I S C H A R G E D

                                       HEO JIEUN // TWENTY-EIGHT                                DAUGHTER OF HEO ENTERTAINMENT

                                      LOADING PASSENGER INFO P1941...  

– personality

She’s kind and thoughtful, always with her head in the clouds. Her feet were never on the ground, even on Earth. She thinks nothing of money, content with her own little worldly treasures – movies, books, her writing utensils (both pencil and laptop) – and so she spends it on those she comes to care for. She’s blunt, but never means to cause harm to anyone, and if she knows she’s hurt you, she’ll want to make it up to you. Don’t think of her as just some loony with her thoughts scattered far and wide, though, she’s quite smart and she’s teasing and full of mischief. Her clumsiness is quite a downfall and it’s why she was never as good at modeling as her sister, but she has a beauty about her that’s natural – not manmade by make-ups and perfumes. She is Heo Jieun, simple yet complicated.

– bio (trigger warning: car crash ; death/mercy death ; illness)

i. somniate [to dream]

Late February brings a light in the form of two cherub-faced baby girls, both with full heads of hair and powerful lungs. Jieun and Jihye grow up side by side, never leaving one another for anything other than asked for personal space – and even then it’s rare. Their mother and father love them both and dote on them and they take them to beautiful cities, places most would only dream of going. Jieun develops a love of fantasy, things people can only describe on paper, with a pen, or typed on a computer while Jihye gets lost in the stars.

Together, they imagine whole scenarios and stories – of people they know, people they want to meet, people they know could never exist. Their parents let them have that, let them enjoy their time as children – playing and laughing, throwing the occasional tantrum when they don’t get their way. And they’re so in-sync, just as some twins are.

Their childhood is full of love, and laughter, and dreams never-ending.

ii. traümerei [daydreaming]

All dreams must end, however, and by the time they’re ten, their father has them in the limelight. They become their parents’ label’s first children models. First it’s school uniforms, then it’s pillows and pajamas. At some point, singing is added and they’re learning music. The cameras never stop, but neither does Jieun and Jihye’s love of fantasy. They still love their parents and do what their father and mother ask of them – after all, isn’t it a dream to appear on television and in magazines? Most little girls don’t get that.

At fifteen, their lives are already too much for them. They’re talked about constantly, they’re harassed for autographs, and pushed and shoved for attention. They never let go of each other’s hands, and they let their parents handle the media. Charges are filed, and they continue on.

Jieun is more adept at singing than modeling (even though she’d rather be writing), and so they’re split sometimes and Jieun will sing while Jihye watches her, cheering her on happily. But Jieun sees the sadness in Jihye’s eyes – everyone talks and what they say is harsh.

          (Not good enough, no talent, just use her face and nothing more.)

And Jieun holds her sister at night when she cries and cries, the sun rising up on them and then they’re at it again. Jieun copes by writing her stories, sometimes getting them published – sometimes her stories are just for her and her sister.

Jieun doesn’t allow them to use her name on the soundtracks ever – she always signs Jihye’s name then. She gives her sister the credit for her voice, and she lets her sister be praised at galas and parties their parents take them to. Jieun’s father isn’t happy, but he doesn’t press the issue after Jieun threatens to stop singing altogether.

Eighteen comes and both sisters decide to travel together, with their parents’ permission, and they head to an unpronounceable place and get lost in the culture and the city for two weeks. They experience a life they’d only dreamed of – total freedom. They love their parents, but they can’t say no to them. Jieun can’t anyways, and Jihye doesn’t leave her sister ever.

When they return, they go back to their modeling and singing, keeping their parents’ happy, but always dreaming together. Their getaways become annual, and then it’s twice a year they disappear for a few weeks at a time. Always, always, together.

iii. oneirodynia [nightmare]

Just like dreams, a sense of ‘always’ and ‘togetherness’ has to draw to a close.

It starts slowly – Jihye unable to keep up with photo shoots, unable to rest. She’s not eating right and weight drops right off of her. Everyone thinks it’s depression, but they don’t see that she’s trying. Jieun does. She knows her sister as well as she knows herself, and they go together to the doctor. Examination, after examination, nothing is found, but Jieun pushes – begging and pleading with them to make her sister better.

Two weeks after their twenty-fifth birthday, Jihye gets a call. Jieun eavesdrops, holds her sister’s hand as the doctors tell her there’s something wrong. Something inside of her, and neither of them can pronounce it and they don’t care to. Jihye is sick with a disease – one that should’ve been caught at birth, but wasn’t. They’re both scared.

With no cure and few treatments, Jihye’s on her deathbed at twenty-six, hooked up to machines to help her in breathing and eating. And Jieun mourns for her sister, lies in bed with her to keep her company. Together, in those last few days, they watch the news and Jieun offers Jihye the ideas of them leaving together on Avalon, sleeping for two hundred years together and waking to medical knowledge that could save her.

Jihye knows she won’t make it. But Jieun still could, so when Jieun slips out to get something to eat, Jihye records a message on her phone, and programs her personal android to pull her life support plug for her.

When Jieun returns, her sister is gone. She doesn’t fight it, she doesn’t ask for her sister to be brought back because he knows she suffered in the last few months. Jieun suffers most afterwards, no more singing, no more modeling. She doesn’t come out of her and her sister’s shared room unless it’s a necessity.

iv. oneirocosm [a dream place]

On the morning that should be Jieun and Jihye’s bi-annual trip, Jieun slips out of bed, gets dressed, and heads out. Recklessly, she hasn’t eaten much in days, and she’s weak, too tired to be behind the wheel of a car. She crashes just two miles from her parents’ mansion and is rushed to the hospital in critical condition.

A punctured lung and fractured face are easily fixed, though there are scars. Her parents want them fixed, but Jieun doesn’t. She opts to keep her scars, to let them heal naturally and if they’re still visible years later, then that will be a story to tell the people she loves. She wears them with pride, even when people no longer compliment her on her beauty.

Like this, two years slip by; Jieun copes without her sister, she stops modeling, and she doesn’t sing anymore because her sister isn’t around to take the credit and receive all the love she deserves. She presses her nose into her laptop and she writes – sometimes about her sister, sometimes about worlds upon worlds that people could only ever dream of. In them, her characters experience tragedy, but they get through it – they live, and are happy. There’s the occasional bittersweet ending – Jihye would like them, she was the more realistic of them. Jieun dedicates those to her sister.

Just weeks before Avalon is set to launch, Jieun convinces her parents to let her go. She knows she’s their only child now, but she has dreams to achieve, and her feet have never been planted firmly in one place – certainly not the ground. Her head is far above the clouds, wishing to touch the stars. Jihye would’ve wanted it.

They buy her a Platinum class ticket and spend the next few weeks with her, spending time together as a family, and setting up accounts for her for when she arrives on Homestead II.

And then, they say goodbye and ‘I love you’ for the last time as she exits the car.

v. euneirophrenia [peaceful state of mind following a pleasant dream]

There’s dreams, so many endless dreams, and none of them she remembers when she’s awoken. Bright lights that flicker are what greets her, but she exits her chamber, struggling to stand properly and nausea swimming in her stomach, head clouded from her slumber. Had two hundred years passed? No. They had not – she hears ‘malfunction’, but there’s nothing visibly wrong that she can see.

They’re up too early, and Jieun finds herself not minding it one bit. An adventure, and the perfect idea for another story.