—BURN YOUR BRIDGES
Azra Dogan. 28. Nurse.
about. musings. connections.
Dominic Ludlow. 40. High School Teacher.
about. musings. connections.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Sweet Seals For You, Always
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
Not today Justin

Discoholic 🪩

JVL
almost home
noise dept.
KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.

Andulka
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Product Placement
Xuebing Du
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

⁂
Today's Document
Game of Thrones Daily
Peter Solarz
seen from United States
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seen from Germany
seen from Peru

seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore

seen from Vietnam

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia
@burnurbridges
—BURN YOUR BRIDGES
Azra Dogan. 28. Nurse.
about. musings. connections.
Dominic Ludlow. 40. High School Teacher.
about. musings. connections.
WHO: Anyone (0/5)
WHERE: Any restaurants of Woodside!
Josie stepped through the thick layers of fresh snow, her boots crunching with each step as she walked towards the front of the restaurant. The storm had come in fast, leaving behind a city that still felt in recovery mode, half-frozen but alive with the buzz of people trying to return to normal. She rounded the corner to the entrance, her breath visible in the air, but something was reassuring about the warm light spilling from the restaurant windows. She spotted her friend standing near the door, likely trying to fight the same cold Josie had been battling for days. "Looks like you survived, and you haven’t turned into an Eskimo. That’s a win, right?" Josie called out with a grin, her eyes glinting with playful warmth despite the exhaustion she was feeling. She gave a small wave before continuing, her tone a little softer. "How'd you make out with all this madness?"
Even bundled up in her coat and boots, Azra was still freezing. As if she didn't already have enough issues in her life, not even the weather seemed willing to cooperate. It was like the universe was telling her to hole up in her now-empty apartment forever, and she gladly would have complied if it wasn't for the fact that even heartbreak didn't save you from an empty stomach. But she definitely didn't look 'presentable,' clad the same ratty sweatpants she'd been wearing for days along with one of Dylan's sweatshirts she didn't have the heart to return yet. She didn't want to run into anyone, and somehow the fact that it was Josie, always so effortlessly beautiful and sweeter than words, felt even worse. She held up her left hand, now ring-less, though impossible to see through her mittens. "Down a fiance," she said, and she was proud she at least got that much out before blubbering.
Since Dom's return to Woodside it was an understatement to claim that relations between brothers were strained. Bear didn't know quite how to talk to the older man or be around him, mostly because he was incapable of looking at his brother as anything but. To him, Dominic would never be human. He'd always be the one that abandoned him and went on to carve out a life that had nothing to do with him. Rather than hold out a hand he chose to save himself and himself alone.
The reason they were talking now had more to do with Bear's niece and wanting to know her and less to do with maturity. The answer to the request had been a no brainer and Bear picked up Sophie and spent time with her at Dom's until his older brother could make it home.
"She's been good," he answered despite the question not being for him, when Sophie glanced his way. The hint had been taken. "Got all of her homework done and she's been kicking my ass at poker ever since I taught her," Bear hadn't even registered the swear slip, though his niece giggled, "I say it's beginners luck but she says otherwise." Then a once over of his brother, he couldn't help his mild curiosity, "rough night, huh?"
Something ached deep within him when Sophie looked to her uncle to answer instead answering him herself. He wanted to believe his daughter was just getting a leg up on teenage angst, but the truth of the matter was that the move had been hard on her, and it hadn't exactly helped that Dom had spent the previous year becoming more distant as he threw himself into work. They were still trying to find their new dynamic, and while he should be happy she was bonding with her Uncle Bear and had that comfortability with someone, all he could feel instead was just... sadness. Yet another person he had let down...
But he refused to let it show. Because the last thing he needed was his little brother feeling sorry for him. "Poker, huh?" he arched a brow, a vague hint of disapproval. The last thing he needed was Bear leading her down the road to a gambling addiction, but so long as he wasn't introducing her to his more destructive habits, he would pick his battles. The man had saved his ass today, after all; maybe he shouldn't be so picky.
"Long," he nodded when asked about his day, though he didn't elaborate. "Have you guys eaten? I can make some spaghetti." He wasn't great at cooking, but he was learning. And considering Bear was already here, and Sophie looked the happiest she had in days, he might as stick around.
Maeve inhaled sharply, steadying herself. She had played this moment out in her head a hundred times, but nothing had prepared her for the raw hurt in Azra’s voice, the way she looked so… small. Like she truly believed Maeve had left because of her.
God, she had let this go on for too long.
“You didn’t do anything.” The words tumbled out quickly, desperate to reach her before the silence could twist things further. “Azra, I didn’t leave because of you.”
Maeve swallowed, forcing herself to keep eye contact. “I left because I got pregnant.” The truth felt heavier out loud, like saying it made it more real. “And I—I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do, and instead of handling it like a sane person, I ran.”
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I was scared. Not just of the pregnancy, but of how everything would change. Of what people would think. Of what you would think.”
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “And the worst part is, I should’ve told you. You would’ve been there for me. But you had just gotten engaged to Dylan” She paused, head bowed not wanting to look at her. “And it just felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe in that town. So I left. Because I was a coward. Not because I wanted to be free of you. Never that.”
She exhaled slowly, finally, like she’d been holding this in for so long she’d forgotten how to breathe past it. “I’m sorry, Azra. For all of it.” And for more than she would ever know. “You deserved better.”
It hurt. God, it hurt so much, it felt like she was a bleeding, open wound. She should be stronger than this. After everything, she should be able to get through a conversation without falling apart. But Maeve... Maeve had always been her heart — more than Dylan, more than anyone, her soul lay with her sister. Losing her, it ripped her apart in a way she hadn't felt in years. It hadn't been hard to leave Hawaii because, without her, the island no longer felt like home...
"You were pregnant?" The shock felt like a small reprieve, but it was short lived. Maeve had been pregnant. She'd gone through that alone. The miracle of life, and Azra had missed it all. Baby showers and sonograms, decorating the nursery. Did Maeve not feel supported? Was she worried Azra would judge? And to think that all this time, Azra had a little niece or nephew in this world, who hadn't known how instantly loved they were. If she even... "Did you- I mean, are you...?" She couldn't finish the question; it felt rude to ask. But there was potentially a little child in the world, and that felt more important than anything else.
Emine arched her neck to look at the item in his hand and raised a brow. It felt like ages since she'd done it, and it hadn't been the best experience then, but she'd been trying to impress people. "Fuck it, sure. My sister is at a sleepover too and it's better than just going home to stare at the wall."
"You sound like a real parent," he teased, opening the baggie and taking out the joint. Or maybe he meant she sounded like a real single parent. He'd only been doing it a year now, but it was even more exhausting than he expected. If it wasn't the exhaustion that got to you, it was the guilt. "I can't guarantee this will be good. All things considered, it might even just be oregano, but I've become such a lightweight, I doubt I'll know the difference." Lighting up, he took a puff and passed it.
Enjoying the cool evening breeze as she sat outside on the deck, suede coat wrapped around her delicate shoulders, Julianna turned her head upon the realisation that she was no longer alone. It was a beautiful night after all, people would be stupid not to make the most of it.
As the man spoke, his words intrigued the older woman immensely, a perfectly sculpted brow raising as he pulled an item out of his pocket — a small but perfectly rolled joint. “Oh god!” She laughed, utterly flattered for the offer… being a few years off sixty, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d smoked pot. It would’ve had to have been at least… 35 years prior.
“Sure, why not?” There were no work obligations that needed to be dealt with the next day, so why not indulge this once for old time’s sake? A drag or two wouldn’t hurt. “I’ll warn you, it’s been a loooong time since I’ve smoked, so I may be a little rusty.”
Dom had always felt older than his years; now at 40, he finally felt like his personality had grown into his age. Smoking pot wasn't exactly the 'hardcore' activity it once had been, but even still, it wasn't like he was a frequent customer at the dispensary or anything. "I'm a father to the nosiest ten year old in existence, so I'm not exactly smooth with this either," he shrugged. All of which was to say, he wasn't particularly 'cool' and never really had been.
He brought the joint to his lips and sparked it up, taking an deep inhale before passing it off.
Ethan tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smile forming. He couldn’t help but be amused by the nervous energy. It was almost like she was caught somewhere between wanting to vanish and wanting to engage. It was oddly familiar and disarming at the same time.
"Hey, don't worry about it," he said, not really sure why she would apologize to begin with. "Philosophy with strangers is the way to go. Less predictable." He paused for a beat, giving her space to settle into the moment. "And trust me the so-called 'right crowds' aren’t always that great. Mostly noice and not that much substance."
A part of him thought about how Senna might’ve handled this conversation. He had always thought of someone who had the ability to naturally charm anyone. It wasn’t a skill Ethan had been gifted with, at least not anymore. These days, he was more measured and cautious. Less chance of missteps or misunderstandings that way.
"At least they probably do better than laughing in your face," she said sheepishly, which — yeah, a smarter person probably would just let that go, but she was genuinely embarrassed. If it wouldn't be even more rude, she'd probably knock a bookshelf over just so she'd have something to bury herself under. (Only that would cause even more of a mess, which would lead to a whole other problem.) "I really am sorry. You caught me off guard. Have you read it?" she asked, pointing towards the book he was holding.
If it hadn't been the week before a major holiday, Felipe might've have turned him down. Coordinating with guests who wanted to confirm every last detail of their stay at the B&B could get taxing and having a drink or two wasn't cutting it at that point.
“Better us than the youth of America," he replied with a wry grin, knowing full well the sentiment was meaningless. The youth, much like he did at that age, will find a way to partake in smoking weed regardless. He dug around his pockets, finding his wallet, keys and switchblade but no lighter. He wasn't a smoker by any means but it was one of those items that was a staple in the 'just in case' department. “You happen to confiscate a lighter too? Think I left mine at home."
It wasn't like Dom was some sort of square, but this also wasn't one of his normal activities. Sure, he'd been to college, and even after had taken advantage of New York's legalized status on occasion, but he was also a full-time dad who had shit to deal with. All of which was to say: no, of course he hadn't thought to bring a lighter.
Still, he patted himself down like maybe by some miracle he might have something. "Shit, no," he sighed. He really was getting old... "Fuck, I'm losing my touch."
—Starter for @wrongtvrns (Bear Ludlow) Location: Dom's house
He wasn't trying to be dramatic, but Dom's feet dragged across the floorboards as he came through the garage door. It had been a long fucking day. It seemed like his students had collectively decided to be particularly shitty smart-asses, and that was after his nerves were already shot spending the morning panicking when his babysitter called in sick. Even his fix of getting his brother to pick Sophie up from school and keep her entertained until he got back felt like a real Catch-22, and he hated the idea that now Bear might think he 'owed him one.' And shit, as much as Dom tried not to let the outcome of a high school basketball game affect his life or mood — yeah, tonight's loss had been a tough one...
A bunk day, Sarah used to call it, when nothing seemed to go quite right.
The only silver lining was the sound of Sophie's cheerful voice to come home to, and Dom followed it into the kitchen to greet his daughter and brother. "Hey, Soaps," he said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. "Hope you've been behaving."
Maeve felt the breath hitch in her throat as she watched Azra struggle to keep it together. The manic smile, the way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears—it was like looking at a mirror of everything Maeve had been trying to suppress since she walked away. Guilt twisted in her stomach, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to focus on the person in front of her rather than the mess of emotions clawing at her own chest.
She let out a soft sigh, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Azra,” she said gently, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to pretend like you’re fine or that this isn’t—” She gestured vaguely between them, exhaling. “A lot. And you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that needs to be apologizing.”
Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the table, searching Azra’s face with something softer, something raw. “I should’ve called,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “I should’ve said something, anything, instead of just…” She trailed off, unable to even say the words. Leaving. Disappearing. Hurting her.
Her chest tightened at the way Azra still smiled through the tears, still offered kindness despite everything. It made Maeve want to reach across the table, to fix things the way she always used to—an inside joke, a ridiculous story, something light to make the weight go away. But this wasn’t something that could be fixed with laughter alone.
“I missed you too,” she said finally, meeting Azra’s gaze with unwavering honesty. “More than I can even explain. And I’m sorry for what I did.” There was so much for her to be sorry for - even more than Azra knew now. “I never in my wildest dreams imagined you would have wound up here but I’m glad you did. Life hasn’t been the same without you.” That was true. Her life was void without Az in it but deep down she knew that this wasn’t going to be all rainbow and butterflies. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
Azra wasn't embarrassed about crying in public, but for the first time, she was embarrassed about crying in front of her best friend. Because it felt weak, and predictable, and the last thing she wanted was Maeve to feel obligated to take care of her once again. Poor Azra, it was always something... That was the conclusion she'd come to, anyway, in the lack of any real answers: that she'd always leaned too heavily on Maeve, literally invaded her life. Azra understood; she was a lot, had more baggage than most would sign up for. And after announcing her engagement — why shouldn't Maeve take the opportunity for freedom when she saw it?
All of which to say, it had never been Azra's intention to make Maeve feel obligated to her just because of their history, and bursting into tears immediately upon seeing her was pretty counter-productive to that goal. But whatever, you can't change nature. Azra was soft to her core, and Maeve leaving hadn't changed that.
She swiped frustratedly at her tears, no point in denying them now. "You could start with why?" she said quietly, feeling small and pitiful. "I mean... what did I do?"
—Open Starter for Dom Ludlow Capping @ 0/4
"I'm not supposed to take bribes," Dom began, reaching into his pockets. "But it's also contraband, so technically it's more like confiscating. And Sophie's at a sleepover for the night, so..." He held out his hand, showcasing the item he had stashed. "Care to join?"
JAMIE DORNAN by Boo George for C California Style, Spring 2024
DOMINIC LUDLOW. 40. Sagittarius. Jackson Hill. High School Math Teacher and Basketball Coach
Full name: Dominic Ludlow
Gender & pronouns: Cis Man & He/Him
Occupation: High School Math Teacher and Basketball Coach
Neighborhood: Jackson Hill
Length of residency: Returned 3 months ago; grew up a local
3 positive traits: responsible, empathetic, nurturing
3 negative traits: passive, resentful, avoidant
location: novelty bookstore open: 1/4
Ethan ran his fingers along the worn spines of a row of books, pausing on one with a cracked leather cover titled Empires of the Forgotten World. Pulling it free, he flipped through the yellowed pages. Without looking up at the person standing nearby, he struck up a random conversation for the hell of it.
“You ever think about how much of history is just someone’s version of the truth?” He finally glanced sideways at the stranger standing a few feet away. Like, how much of what we know is just what survived—what someone wanted us to believe?” He smirked slightly, thumb tapping against the spine of the book. “Makes you wonder how much got buried on purpose.”
He was right. Azra knew he was right — from stories she'd heard from family growing up, and also just the simple fact of witnessing human nature. She was willing to admit she could be naive, but it wasn't like she wasn't stupid... She was, however, horribly socially awkward, and could always be relied upon for the wrong reaction to any given situation.
"Sorry," she sputtered, after failing to hold back her nervous giggles. "Shoot. Sorry, you're right. You're totally right, I just... I've never discussed philosophy with a stranger before. I think I must've been hanging out in the wrong crowds." She cleared her throat, willing the awkward tic to pass so that she could give the man the respect he deserved. "You're right," she tried again. "That's... most of human history at this point."
location: serendipity bed & breakfast status: open to all
Xo always knew deep down she would end up back in Woodside, that despite her best efforts to start a life with the familiar town behind her that it was only a matter of time before she was thrusted back into the town she grew up in. She knew her father despite his protest of being a grown man able to take care of himself that they both knew that was never his specialty. Xo had been taking care of the older man for most of her life, it felt natural to her to tend to his needs and despite claiming he was more than capable she knew he needed her. Xo was the only person Diego had left to call family and despite her father's charm she knew none of his drinking buddies were necessarily the type of people you call when things get real. The moment she heard the word terminal from his doctor's she packed up her apartment with boxes enough to fit into her car and made the drive back down the familiar roads she had spent so many years driving down. Being back in Woodside had a very strange effect on her, it's familiarity engulfing her at every turn. Each corner of the town had a memory attached to it, a ping straight to her heart. It was almost as if the town stood still while she was gone, every thing perfectly had it's place as when she left it, even the air seemed to have a sentimental smell of freshness. It was a very strange feeling being back in a town you spent your youth now as an adult, feeling something of a stranger and a local all in one. Xo was naturally a planner, organized in moments of stress was something that came natural to her. So she did just that, she made a plan for her father, began making meal plans, started a calendar for doctor's visit, even scribbling in spots where she expected him to get a walk around the neighbor. In moments where she couldn't control the outcome she fell into a natural state of micromanaging. It just made sense for her to move back to her childhood home to care for her father, however, strange of a feeling it was. She took a job at the local B&B a place where she didn't have experience per say but her natural abilities excelled. Before she knew it she was able to fall into a routine, one where she did her best to stay busy as to not allow herself to wander down memory lane too far. Stay busy, stay focused. She would remind herself, maybe she could blend in, despite feeling like a intruder in the place she once called home. On this particular day at the B&B she decided she need to redo all the current filing system so when someone walked in, triggering the bell on the door, she had her hands filled with stacks of files blocking her view. "One moment." She said before the papers at the bottom slipped out of her hands creating a domino effect before most fell in the most synchronized of ways. "Tada." She joked a little frazzled tucking hair behind her ear and let out a sigh.
This was barely even planning. More like 'pre-planning' — a scope out of a scope out that would happen at the later date. She was just tired of everyone asking how the wedding planning was going, and considering this was on her way home, she thought... might as well. In all likelihood, Azra saw herself getting married back home in Hawaii, but there was something about the picturesque grounds that was enough to tempt her. For summer, maybe — definitely not winter. But even still, not a bad idea to check out the cozier interior...
She had been hoping to slip in and slip back out again, but seeing the commotion she she had started, Azra knew she had to stay and help. "Oof, sorry," she winced as she rushed over to help, realizing only as she started stacking her own pile of papers that maybe she was overstepping her boundaries. Helping was nice, but it might be different if they were confidential records or had a specific organizational system. "I- sorry," she repeated, not quite sure what to do next.
Pınar Deniz (b. 1993, Türkiye)
Lebanese and Arab descent
Maeve hesitated for a moment just inside the door, letting the warmth of the bakery wash over her, the scent of cardamom and sugar wrapping around her like a hug she wasn't sure she deserved. Her eyes landed on Azra immediately—she could always spot her anywhere. Even now, frazzled and fidgeting, Azra still looked like home.
"Hey," Maeve said softly, the word carrying more weight than it should. She stepped closer, her boots tapping softly against the wooden floor. "You look… good," she added, her voice careful, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters of a conversation she'd replayed in her head a hundred times on the way over.
Her eyes flicked down to the table—coffees, pastries meticulously arranged like offerings to some invisible force that might dictate how this would all go. Maeve smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth pulling upward in a way that felt almost foreign. "You remembered the börek," she said, her tone somewhere between impressed and wistful.
Sliding into the chair opposite Azra, she placed her bag on the floor and folded her hands in her lap, suddenly feeling like she didn’t know what to do with herself. "I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me," Maeve admitted, her gaze dropping to the coffee cups. "I’ve missed you, Az." The words came out quieter than she intended, but they hung between them, undeniable. "How is everything?"
Despite the butterflies churning in her stomach, it was so good to see Maeve again. Azra had desperately missed her best friend, and it was only when she was sitting right in front of her that the weight of it fully hit her. The sadness and hurt that Maeve had left. The confusion at never getting a proper explanation. The sheer relief of knowing that she was okay... It was like a ton of bricks on her chest, and even with her manic smile, Azra was suddenly blinking back tears.
Not now, she told herself furiously. She had always been so humiliatingly quick to cry, but she wanted to at least start the conversation first. To figure out what she'd done wrong before she started apologizing for it. They would never get through this conversation otherwise. "Sorry." The word slipped out on instinct, that all too feminine habit, and as soon as it registered, everything else went to shit...
Immediately. She'd ruined it immediately. The one thing she swore she wouldn't do, and she couldn't even get two words out... The dam broke. The tears fell. But Azra tried to continue on like everything was fine. Her smile wavered, but never dropped entirely. "Of course I want to see you," she said, her voice shaky but full of as much cheer as she could muster. "I missed you. I kept hoping you would call."