#we have a loose idea of what's going on with them

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[galadriel-blue]

The Adar is Celeborn theory is becoming my entire personality you guys have no idea how obsessed I am with that concept-

[ellecdc]

here for the drinks!! what are your thoughts about friends to lovers with barty? also, congratulations for the 4k xoxo 💘

thank you baby! and great thought. honestly, friends to lovers makes the most sense to me for this guy

I feel like Barty would have a hard time firstly with the idea of commitment at all, and also differentiating between platonic and romantic love, simply because he didn't experience a lot of love growing up (only child, abusive/neglectful parents)

he also sort of strikes me as the kind to resort to sexual intimacy when feelings of any kind occur just because he doesn't know what else to offer (I'm imagining a cliche emotionally constipated loose guy with daddy issues)

I feel like most of his friends have hooked up with him, which wouldn't be any different with you

and while Barty doesn't exactly like when his friends start dating/sleeping with other people (e.g., Regulus x James), and he does still feel some jealousy/insecurity at being replaced or needless, it has nothing on the pure unadulterated rage he feels when he sees you talking to/flirting with someone else

he always finds something wrong with whoever you're seeing, constantly picking fights with them, happens to show up when the two of you are sitting in the library or Great Hall together, etc

takes Reg & Evan actually walloping him up the side of the head to point out that he is completely in love with you

feelings are scary - tries to sleep with everyone else in the castle to get it out of his system

doesn't work and he's now left you unsupervised to that damned other wix he didn't bother to learn the name of

pines silently until you mention something bothering you about this new person

"Are you going to break up with them?" He asks as nonchalantly as he can manage - "we were never dating, Barty" - "thought you guys were in love" - you simply snort in response

"I tried." you admit after some silence - "is it something you have to try to do? to love?" he asks - "no, it's not." - "what was wrong with them? Why couldn't you love them?"

You stare at him for a long time and it takes everything in his being to hold your eye contact as you seem to come to some decision.

"They weren't you."

the two of you stare at each other a while longer before you eventually stand and head to your dorm

Barty shows up later that night - you're not sure how he didn't get caught or managed to make it up to your dorm at all but he's standing there at the door, breathless and eyes red rimmed before his lips crash into yours - and the kiss is unlike any that the two of you have shared before

"love me." He whispers breathlessly as he finally comes up for air, though he keeps your face close enough that his breaths cause your eyelashes to flutter

"I've been loving you, Barty, I can't- I can't keep doing this on my own."

"You're not, I'm here. I'm here. I love you."

and then you're kissing again and it's messy and it's desperate and it's perfect

:)

[sparklingcid3r]

CW: discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation

Scorching hot take about to come in, but I think that Darry’s line about Dally killing himself because he “gave up” actually does fit the character that the musical made Darry into. I’m not saying it’s a good way to view the situation or even a message that should be imparted at the end of the show, but I think that specific perspective of what suicide is aligns with the Darry we got to know.

You don’t have to agree, but let me explain🙏

There are a few ways that a viewer can interpret Darry’s character. In my opinion, suicidal is one of them. Darry equates suicide with giving up because it’s what he would do if he ever gave up, if he ever lost Pony and Soda the way Dally lost Johnny.

But I also want to say that just because he equates the two in his head doesn’t mean they actually are synonymous. I mean, Darry’s not exactly someone whose word you take at face-value for a lot of the show when he’s talking about his feelings, save for a few vulnerable moments.

When he is being vulnerable and you know that these are his core feelings, undisguised by the need to be strong, it’s during “Runs in the Family” (very sparsely, but there are small clues), and “Throwing in the Towel.” Especially in TITT, he expresses what can be perceived as suicidal ideation, which we’ll get to very quickly.

Because it’s one line in RITF, I can’t really harp on it as much as I’d like to, but Darry says “I don’t know what them boys would ever do without me, and what would I do on my own?” Obviously we never find out what Darry thinks he’d be doing on his own, so you can really only make loose, debatable inferences. Because of that, you can take the fact that Darry is a very goal-oriented person, then take the fact that he knows he would not have anything to work for if his brothers were gone, and combine them to say that Darry might very well just give up.

Darry’s suicidal ideation comes out the most in TITT. He literally says “Maybe you’d be best without me.” He never specifies what “without him” looks like, he leaves that up for Soda (and the audience) to interpret, but three ideas stick out to me:

1. Him giving Soda and Pony up to a boys home

2. Him having never been born at all

3. Him removing himself from their lives permanently (suicide)

Whether he feels one, two, or all three, two out of the three express either ideation or blatant suicidal thoughts.

It also explains why Darry is so insistent on Pony just snapping out of his depression following Dally and Johnny’s deaths. He’s seeing his brother go through the same tired, despondent motions that he did in the beginning of TITT, on the road to giving up.

What Darry doesn’t understand is that Pony truly giving up looks different than Darry truly giving up (I have a feeling that Pony would turn towards drugs and addiction if he hit rock bottom, but that’s another convo for another time), and because Darry is projecting his own version of giving up onto Pony, he’s terrified of his youngest brother doing something so drastic and permanent. Even if that’s not the reality of the situation, it’s what he believes, so it’s what he talks about.

[lxvsiick]

CRUSH ON HIS TUTOR | KIM WOONHAK X READER

PAIRING: younger! tutee! kim woonhak x two years older! tutor! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Woonhak has a cute crush on his two years older tutor, Y/n.

GENRE: fluff, crush, imagine

WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

A/N: just a cute short imagine about woonhak having a crush on someone who is older -- i’m still on campus and i really want to go home ( ￣＾￣) i am writing notes but at the same time thinking about story ideas so at one point i wrote down my story idea into my notes 🧍🏻‍♀️welp, enjoy!

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Laughter echoed around the small dorm room as Leehan and the rest of the group were in the middle of a chaotic video game session. The air was light, filled with jokes and playful banter, but Woonhak barely noticed any of it.

He was sitting on the couch, controller in hand, staring blankly at the screen. His thoughts, however, were nowhere near the game. They were on her—Y/n, his tutor, and Leehan’s friend. His mind kept replaying little moments with her: the way her lips quirked up when she caught him making a mistake during their study sessions, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating.

"Why do I keep thinking about her?" he wondered, frustrated at how easily she occupied his thoughts. "She’s two years older... She probably doesn’t even think of me that way."

“Yo, Woonbaby!” Jaehyun called out, waving a hand in front of his face. “You alive over there?”

He blinked, startled, and realized all five of his friends were now staring at him. He hadn't said a word in the last ten minutes, and clearly, they’d noticed.

“Seriously, man,” Riwoo laughed, “you’ve been completely zoned out. What’s up?”

“Did you even hear anything we said?” Leehan added, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

The tips of Woonhak's ears turned red. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to shrug off the attention. “I—I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff.”

“Ohhh, thinking about stuff?” Taesan said with a teasing grin. “Does this stuff happen to be a girl?”

The room immediately erupted in laughter and catcalls. Woonhak's face heated up even more as he tried to wave them off, but his friends weren’t having it.

“Look at him! His ears are red!” Riwoo pointed out, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on, dude, who is it?”

“Yeah, spill it,” Taesan chimed in. “You got a crush or something?”

“No, I don’t!” Woonhak blurted, his voice a bit higher than usual. He knew denying it only made them more suspicious, but he couldn’t help it. His flustered reaction only fueled their teasing.

Leehan leaned back, smirking knowingly. “You know, Y/n mentioned something the other day. She said you’ve been spacing out a lot during your tutoring sessions.”

At the mention of her name, Woonhak stiffened. “She—she said that?” he stammered, his heart racing.

“Oh yeah,” Leehan continued, clearly enjoying the situation. “She said she’ll ask you a question and you’ll just sit there, staring at your notes like you’ve never seen them before.”

His friends burst into laughter again, and Woonhak wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. He could feel his face burning as he tried to play it cool. “That’s—she’s exaggerating...”

Jaehyun wasn’t letting it go, though. “Yeah? Then why’re you turning red just hearing her name?”

Before he could stop himself, Woonhak blurted out, “Did she say anything else about me?”

That made the room go silent for a split second, and then all hell broke loose.

“Aha! So there is someone!” Sungho shouted triumphantly, slapping Jaehyun on the back. “I knew it!”

Leehan grinned, crossing his arms as he gave Woonhak a teasing look. “So you’re interested in what she thinks, huh?”

“I’m not—I mean—” Woonhak sputtered, feeling more flustered by the second. His mind was racing with possibilities, wondering if Y/n had noticed him the way he’d started to notice her. He thought about the way she’d laugh softly when she caught him spacing out during their tutoring sessions, how she’d patiently explain things again even though she must have been annoyed.

“Dude, you’re so obvious,” Riwoo teased. “You’ve got it bad for her, huh?”

Woonhak threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine, whatever. Yes, maybe I’ve been... thinking about her. A little.”

The room exploded into cheers and shouts of “I knew it!” and “Finally!” Woonhak sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.

But underneath all the teasing, a small part of him wondered—What did she think of him?

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the distant hum of air conditioning. Woonhak sat across from Y/n, his books spread out in front of him, but his attention was far from the math problem she was explaining. Instead, his gaze kept drifting back to her—how her lips moved as she spoke, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, and how effortlessly confident she always seemed.

“Are you even listening?” Y/n asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts.

Woonhak blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word. She was now waving a hand in front of his face, her brows furrowed in slight concern.

“Uh, yeah—sorry,” he stammered, sitting up straighter and pretending to refocus on his notes. “I’m listening.”

She wasn’t convinced. Leaning back in her chair, Y/n crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been spacing out a lot today. What’s on your mind?”

His heart raced at her question. What’s on my mind? You. Always you. But there was no way he was going to admit that. Instead, he quickly waved it off, trying to sound casual. “It’s nothing, just... tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it but deciding to drop the subject. “Alright, fine. Let’s move on to the next topic.”

As she began flipping through her textbook, Woonhak felt a surge of boldness. His mind raced with possibilities. Maybe now was the time. They were alone—or at least he thought they were. Taking a deep breath, he decided to go for it.

“Hey,” he started, his voice a bit too casual, “just out of curiosity... what do you think about younger guys?”

Y/n paused, her pen hovering over the page. Slowly, she looked up, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she caught on to his line of questioning. “Younger guys?” she repeated, a teasing smile forming on her lips.

He nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, though his heart was pounding. “Yeah, like... would you ever date someone younger?”

Her smile widened, clearly enjoying his attempt at subtlety. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin as though giving it serious thought. “I don’t mind younger guys—younger guys who can pass their exams, that is.”

Woonhak felt a spark of hope. His confidence surged, and before he could think twice, the words were out of his mouth. “Okay, so... if I ace my next exam, will you go on a date with me?”

The question hung in the air between them, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Y/n blinked in surprise, and then, to his relief, she giggled softly, shaking her head.

“You’re cute,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alright, Woonhak. You ace your exam, and I’ll go on a date with you.”

His heart leaped. He couldn’t believe it. A date. With her. He tried to play it cool, but his grin betrayed him. “Deal. I’ll study harder than ever.”

Just as he was about to bask in his newfound confidence, a chorus of whispers and stifled laughter erupted from behind a nearby shelf. Before he could react, five familiar faces popped out from behind the bookshelves—his group of friends, who had clearly been eavesdropping the entire time.

“Whoa, Woonbaby! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Jaehyun teased, clapping him on the back.

“Did you really just ask her out right here in the library?” Taesan added, grinning from ear to ear.

Woonhak's face turned bright red as his friends swarmed around the table, throwing in playful jabs and comments. “Shut up, guys!” he hissed, trying to wave them away. “Go away, you weren’t supposed to hear that!”

But they weren’t about to let it go. “Woonhakie's got a date! He’s in love!” Riwoo sang in a mocking tone, while Sungho pretended to swoon dramatically.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the scene unfold with an amused expression, trying—and failing—to hide her laughter. She looked at Woonhak with a teasing smile, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club.”

Mortified, Woonhak buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this...”

Leehan leaned in, smirking. “You’re really going to have to ace that exam now, Woonhakie. No pressure.”

Still blushing, Woonhak groaned. “Can you guys just leave?”

His friends finally relented, walking away while still snickering among themselves. Woonhak let out a sigh of relief, but the embarrassment still burned on his face.

Y/n, clearly entertained by the whole situation, leaned forward and gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ll be fine. Just focus on passing, okay?”

He nodded, still flustered but more determined than ever. “Yeah... I’ll do my best.”

And as they returned to studying, Woonhak couldn’t help but feel that, despite his friends’ teasing, the day had turned out pretty well.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[jintaka-hane]

@walmartmihawk!! I did it!!! My first request and I WAS SO EXCITED!! You have no idea how much fun it was writing this for you!

Ladies and gentlemen! Come get a ride with our favourite FIRST MATE!

A TRIP TO THE ONSEN

Masterlist

Img source / Img source

Summary: Your crew convinces you to join them for a relaxing trip to an onsen. When you arrive, you find out the women’s section is closed due to maintenance issues, and you're forced to use the men’s area as a mixed bath. What could possibly go wrong? Word Count: 2800 Notes: Beckman x f!Reader, forced proximity, nudity but not very explicit, Reader is shy, Beckman is a gentleman, Red haired pirates are assholes XD

As you stepped into the men's changing room, you seriously considered turning around and walking right back out the way you came. 

The place couldn’t be more different from the clean, orderly women’s changing area, with its wicker baskets arranged in perfect harmony on symmetrical shelves, and its pristinely rolled, white towels ready for use. No, the room you found yourself in—thanks to the sign that read, “due to a facilities issue, we kindly ask you to use the men’s pool as a shared space”—was a far cry from that. 

The clothing of the current occupants—your crew—was strewn across the room in a careless mess, distinguished only by loosely categorized piles according to ownership. Each pile was a disaster of wrinkled sashes, balled-up t-shirts, trousers with one leg inside out, and the inevitable final touch, a pair of used boxers, briefs, or trunks, perched proudly on top. You let out a heavy sigh, recognizing your captain’s floral trousers, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the first mate’s cloak.

Were you really prepared to share an enclosed space with your crew members, as they had been brought into the world? The answer was a resounding NO. But the thought of sinking your body, aching after so many nights sleeping in a hammock, into the soothing waters of the onsen was too tempting to resist. Besides, you had an infallible plan. Slip in quietly, draw no attention, and position yourself as far away from them as possible.

You wrapped the largest towel you could find around your naked body, then placed your hands on the swinging doors that led to the pool. With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pushed the doors open... only to come face-to-face with Yasopp’s ass as he sank into the steaming, shimmering waters.

The mere sight of the sniper’s bare backside left you blushing, so you marched forward in long strides, avoiding any eye contact, carefully stepping around the towels your crewmates had scattered along the wooden edge of the pool.

“Hey! You made it after all!” Shanks called out cheerfully, resting his forearms on the edge of the pool to get a better look at you. 

“Yes...” you mumbled, clutching tightly at your towel and rushing past him as quickly as you could. Beckman wasn’t far away and greeted you with a slight, elegant nod—a gesture you shyly returned.

When you reached the farthest side of the pool—and definitely not the prettiest, with a large pipe in plain sight on one of the walls—you sat down carefully on the edge making sure your towel wouldn’t betray you at the worst moment. You dipped your legs into the water and, with a calculated move, let the towel fall onto the wooden floor before quickly slipping into the pool.

The moment the mineral-rich water touched your skin, you felt relief and relaxation wash over your sore muscles. The water was soothingly hot, and the steam rising from its surface created an atmosphere of calm and tranquility. You dipped your head beneath the surface, letting the water soothe your face and scalp. As you emerged, ensuring the waterline reached at least your shoulders, you opened your eyes to find your entire crew staring at you. A flush crept up your cheeks as you became the center of attention, so you discreetly turned away, lifting your arms out of the water to rub them as if you were busy cleaning.

"Roo, stop staring at me," you shot, picking a random scapegoat as you felt all the men’s eyes glued to your bare back. Beckman was quick to react, giving the cook a good smack upside the head, splashing water on a few of the nearby crewmates.

“Ow!”

"Stop looking at her," his deep voice commanded, stern and reprimanding. "And you too," he added, smacking Limejuice on the back of the head too.

"Huh? Punch is doin' it too!" the long-haired blonde complained, pointing an accusing finger at his larger friend.

Shanks chuckled heartily and leaned in toward the first mate, speaking in a low voice, “Come on, Beck, give them a break. Don’t tell me you didn’t take a peek yourself.”

The first mate turned his back to you so you couldn’t see, then flashed a cheeky grin and mouthed, 'I did,' causing the rest of the crew to crack up.

For the next few minutes, they left you alone, allowing you to settle into the little haven of peace you’d created at the far corner of the pool. You focused on your own relaxation, letting the warmth of the water soothe your body.

“Oi” Yassop’s voice broke through the peaceful silence. “The owner said there’s a cold pool next door, and a bar close by. Who’s up for checkin’ it out?”

Everyone but Beckman nodded, and they began to climb out of the water, offering you the rather embarrassing sight of a row of bare backsides as they completely ignored the towels waiting for them. You dipped your head under the water again, staying submerged until they had all left, which they thankfully did quickly — as they always did when a bar was involved — sparing yourself from having to choose between a death of embarrassment or by drowning.

"How’re you doing, darlin’?" you heard the first mate’s warm, baritone voice the moment your head broke the surface of the water. His back was pressed against the side of the pool, arms casually draped over the edge, biceps flexing slightly as they rested there. You noticed how his broad shoulders lifted just a touch, the position making them strain. His wet, silver hair was tied back in a loose, low ponytail, and beads of water trickled down his neck, landing on his collarbone. You swallowed hard, silently grateful for the distance between you, knowing that your nerves wouldn’t handle being too close to him. 

“Fine,” you replied shyly, sliding into the water until it reached your chin. 

Beckman opened his mouth to say something more but then shut it, his sharp eyes narrowing as they shifted from your gaze to a point behind you. You heard the faint hiss of pressure behind you and turned to see the massive pipe protruding from the wall, vibrating slightly.

“Darlin’, something’s not right…”

“What—” you turned to find him looking at the pipe, his body tense and alert, the water now at his waist.

The pool’s swinging doors burst open, and the onsen’s owner rushed in, his face a mask of panic as his hands clutched his head. 

"THE PIIIIPE!!! It’s going to explode!!!" he shouted, clawing at his face. "You, the strong one!" his finger pointed at your shocked first mate. "Try to contain it until I can close the valve! The water’s extremely hot, and if it blows, you’ll be scalded!!"

And with that, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Beckman, a competent man used to urgent commands, sprang into action without a second thought. He pushed off from the edge of the pool, water splashing everywhere as he vaulted out, and grabbed his towel with a gruff grunt to tie it in a loose knot around his waist. Then he raced toward the massive pipe just behind you, while you stared in shock, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, unable to react to the sight of the first mate sprinting toward you, half-naked.

When he reached the pipe, he felt it with his hands, locating the exact point where a joint was giving way, and pressed on it, straining with all his might to hold back the increasingly vibrating pipe.

“Shit, shit, shit…” he muttered to himself, bending slightly to apply more pressure with both hands. He lowered his head, mumbling incomprehensible words until a perfectly clear “FUCK” reached your ears.

“What? What’s going on, Becks?” From where you stood, all you could see was his wet back, taut with the effort. 

“Darlin’… I’m afraid I’m going to need your help here.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else. You always followed your first mate’s orders, no matter how peculiar or awkward the situation. So, putting aside your shyness, you scrambled out of the pool, knotted your towel tightly at your chest, and rushed to help him.

“Where do I need to press?” you asked as you moved closer, trying to ignore the striking muscles of his lower back peeking out from his towel.

“Right at my waist.” 

“What?”

“My towel…” he explained as calmly as he could, “it’s slipping, and I can’t let go of the pipe. You’ve got to hold it for me.”

“Okay,” you said, trying to hide your reluctance. You lifted one hand, extended your index finger, and pressed it against the towel on one side of his adonis belt.

“Darlin’, it’s slipping on the other side too…”

“...Okay,” you repeated as you robotically moved your other hand to the other side of his hip, your face so close to his back that your nose nearly brushed against his defined shoulder blades.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you lifted your chin to fix your gaze on the ceiling.

You hadn’t been in that position long when you heard him curse again, his hips shifting under your hands, tense and nervous.

“I think there’s another loose joint,” his rough, deep voice said. “Let me check…” He crouched down, arching his wardrobe-like back, and you stepped back to avoid bumping into him. “Yeah, damn… there’s another leak. Darlin’, you’re gonna need to help me contain it.”

“How?” your voice quivered.

“Get in front of me, hold the pipe where I tell you with one hand, and keep my towel in place with the other.”

“Okay…”

You let go of one side of his towel and moved to his side, waiting for instructions. He looked at you with his eyes framed by those characteristic deep lines on his face, and with a nod, he motioned for you to tuck your head between his arms. You complied, wedging yourself between his massive body and the pipe, your back practically touching his chest.

“Right there,” he instructed with a tilt of his chin. 

You placed one hand where he directed, and pressed firmly.

“Now the towel.” 

Keeping an eye on the pipe, you awkwardly fumbled at the lower part of his abdomen, trying to find the edge of his towel. Not finding it easily, you turned towards him, coming face-to-chest again with his massive, muscular frame. Your cheeks flamed red as you felt his stomach tighten under your hands, your fingertips tracing the line of his happy trail until you finally found the towel.

Beckman knew you were a very shy person. He had tried to approach you several times, and you had always shied away. And at that moment, he felt an intense wave of guilt for putting you in such a compromising position. 

“Darlin’, I am so sorry ab—”

“—Beck,” you interrupted, noticing the pipe shaking and dripping dangerously from the other side. “I think I need to use my other hand to hold the pipe on that side too…”

He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “Alright… do you think you can hold my towel with your knee?”

“... I-I’ll give it a try.”

You released his towel and turned so that your body faced his broad frame. Then, you extended your arm as far as you could to cover the new leak, successfully sealing the damage. Feeling proud that you had managed to control the situation, you lifted your leg—perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm—toward the first mate’s groin.

“Hey,” he chided, jumping slightly in surprise at the speed of your approaching knee. “Just… be careful.”

“Sorry,” you slowed the movement of your knee, pressing it gently against the towel just below his navel.

Seconds stretched into eternity in that position. Beckman, in an attempt to be as polite as possible, turned his face away to give you some space, his elegant cheekbone exposed to you. You were so close that you could see the details of the X-shaped scar marking his temple, and your eyes traced the small beard adorning his chin. The situation was extremely uncomfortable and awkward, but you both were convinced that any moment now the onsen owner would come and tell you he had managed to close the valve.

But, of course, anything that can worsen, will. So, barely a couple of minutes had passed when you heard Beckman curse again, his body twisting and his arms trembling.

“Darlin'...” His gray eyes locked onto yours.

“Huh?” 

“The pipe... ah, damn,” he grunted, shaking his elbows frantically over you but still gripping the pipe. You noticed large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “It’s too hot. I—I can’t keep holding it. It’s burning my skin.”

Your lips parted in alarm. “What do we do, Beck?”

“I’ve got an idea… “ He cleared his throat a bit. "take my towel off, so I can use it between the pipe and my hands.”

“What?! No, Beck…” You felt your pulse quicken.

“Got a better idea?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm, his eyes flicking quickly to the knot of your towel at your chest. You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. 

“Oh, NO. No, no, no—”

“My towel, then,” he insisted.

You swallowed hard, and removing one hand from the pipe, you nervously traced the edge of the towel around his waist until you found a corner to tug on. Just before pulling it off, you muttered a clumsy, “Sorry,” which made him let out a genuine laugh that rumbled through his chest.

“Oh, I'd way rather have you see me naked than lose my hands, Doll”.

You forced a shy smile onto your lips and gave the towel a quick yank to pull it free, your eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Alright," he said with endless patience, "now you're gonna need to crouch down a bit to get it around my hands."

This time, the smile didn’t come. You simply gave a curt nod, squeezed your eyes shut, and crouched down to a compromising level, feeling him step back to give you space. You helped him protect his hands, then straightened up as fast as you could, extending your arm to cover the pipe again, avoiding letting your peripheral vision wander too far downward.

And so, there you were, standing directly in front of your bare and broad-shouldered first mate, arms outstretched, each hand firmly gripping a pipe. 

“Could be worse, you know…” Beckman grinned, trying to joke as he noticed the sweat beginning to form on your brow.

"How?" 

"We could be dealing with sewage."

You weren’t sure if you were about to faint or burst into a nervous, hysterical laugh. You didn’t get the chance to figure it out either, because at that moment, you felt the knot of your towel begin to loosen around your chest.

"Oh, Beck..." you groaned, your voice shaky and weak. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I—"

“What’s wrong, Darlin’?” His eyes darted between yours.

“My towel… the knot… I don’t know what to do, I-I can’t…” you said, tears threatening to spill over. 

Beckman couldn’t stand to see you suffering. As first mate, his duty was to protect and care for the entire crew. And the sight of your doe-like eyes, full of desperation, broke his huge heart. So, without asking for permission or thinking twice, he did the first—and only—thing that came to mind. He respectfully shut his eyes and buried his head into your cleavage with a low growl, gripping the knot of your towel with his teeth just as it was about to come undone.

You stood there, frozen, blinking several times as you tried to process what was happening. Your heart started thudding in your chest, and your blood rushed to your temples, your face turning a fiery deep red as you couldn’t contain your embarrassment. And just at that precise and convenient moment, you heard a group of familiar male voices cheerfully making their way into the onsen pool.

The doors swung open, and the room fell into a sepulchral silence.

'Seriously, guys? Here?' you heard someone whisper.

'Well, well, Beck…' you recognized the unmistakable, mocking voice of your captain, singing out with a teasing grin. 'Didn’t expect this from you. So you wanted her all to yourself, huh?'"

You felt Beckman grumble against your chest, and when you looked down, you saw that his ears were even redder than your own flushed cheeks, the contrast with his pearl earrings making them even more striking. Your shoulders began to shake involuntarily as you snorted out a wild, uncontrollable laugh, realizing that, for once in your life, you weren’t the most flushed person in the room.

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

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita <3

[nieded]

Hi! Doing a re-read of #RR for the nth time a question popped up in my head... how and when did AJ's parents die? I don't think it was ever mentioned. Ezira dwells a lot on his dad's death and in his mom's reaction. But other than getting rid of the whole estate when it happened, we don't know how AJ's parents passed (I sort of have the feeling they died together maybe). Was the fight with his dad after AJ DNF'ed the last time they talked? Do you have a hc about it? Been wondering for a while

Hellooooo! This is a great question with an unsatisfactory answer! I have never really determined how they died. I also have only a loose idea on how Ezira's dad passed (I don't think I've concretely mentioned it).

TW for abuse that is consistent with #RR. There are maybe some spoilers for future content I may or may not write that I have headcanoned for a long time below the cut.

The fight was one of the last few times they spoke. It was one of the last times Crowley Sr. ever tried to push AJ around, and he suffered dire consequences for it, financially and reputation-wise. The thing about parents who abuse their kids is, one day that kid grows up to be an adult, a beheamoth of an adult in this case, while the parent grows old and frail. AJ put fear in his father that day, and it ended their transactional relationship. His death and the estate he left behind was less so an inheritance and more of a fuck you, deal with this crap. And if it hadn't been illegal, AJ would have committed arson.

Of course, decades later, Crowley is still unpacking all of this shit, only realizing now that he went from one abusive relationship (his father) to another (Javier) without really acknowleging them for what they were until years later.

My not-so-little headcanon has always been that AJ has a difficult relationship with his surname. He doesn't really like being a Crowley, but that's his brand now (note that he has also never really liked his 'brand' either). So he lets slide Raph's jokes about him being "Mr. Phale" cos doesn't that sound nicer? The first time Raph ever called him that, something twigged in AJ's brain, and it wasn't, "I want to marry Ezira" necessarily, but "I don't have to be Crowley."

So he starts to use it a little here and there casually outside of official capacities, like ordering pizza or picking up the nibling from daycare. And they go to brunch meetups and book clubs with an ever-evolving group of people who don't always recognize them right away, and they introduce themselves as Anthony and Ezira Phale. And it's nice. Weird at first. But when Ezira doesn't really comment on it and signs them under reservations as a couple, AJ's shoulder relax.

But also, Ezira has helped him like the other half of himself, the Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll, so to speak. Because Anthony Fucking Crowley isn't a trainwreck anymore or a has-been. He's a mentor and an inspiration, a legend, and while that is discomfitting in its own way, it's better than the unrepetent, unloved, unforgivable AJ Crowley of old.

I've always liked this idea when I make up little stories about them in my head because it seems very in line with canon!Crowley who goes through several name changes, trying on different hats (aha!) until he finds one that fits best. I don't think he'll change his name ever in an official capacity, but he enjoys the person he gets to be behind the scene when he isn't front-facing.

So, he says, "Who cares about my parents? I don't," and that's why they rarely get mentioned.

[transgenderboobs]

the word 'continuation' fills my heart with fear cuz i'm still over here hoping it's Not some kind of post canon sequel DFJGHLKDFJGHDFJGHDF

[clownjacket]

Okay my crack theory for Lucy’s god situation:

What if instead of dying Lucy’s god became an archfey and fucked off, forsaking all of their followers. I could see that as justifiable for a minor god—maybe you don’t want your personality and existence to be dependent on a group of people small enough for a really big hurricane to wipe them out. Maybe you want to try your hand at self actualization, which you can’t really do as a god. Whatever.

But that would still mean Lucy’s grades would be screwed for the year, and the whole group would be switched to pass/fail.

Whatever god they’re trying to bring back seems like they want to stay a god, but would also only have a single living cleric so their nature would be heavily influenced by who that cleric is, and could still be controlled. Bringing back an established dead god with living followers probably reduces the risk of the god immediately dying or completely sucking ass/not being powerful like what happened with YES!(?), and we know the Ratgrinders LOVE minimizing risk. And choosing a dead god that represents something Lucy is actually passionate about preaching and proselytizing would make her work as a cleric much easier for her emotionally than, say, switching to Helio and just going through the motions, and bringing back a god would probably look good on college resumes.

Idk, that’s just an alternative theory to Lucy’s god dying based on what’s been established this season.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Once, Always

(Edmund has an abundance of birthdays)

 .

“I say,” murmured Edmund sleepily as the fire burned low. “When do you suppose it is here? I mean—what time of year? Do you think it’s the beginning of September, the same as it was in England?”

“Summer,” said Lucy. “Certainly summer.”

Peter agreed. “I think it must be Highgrass, if I had to guess. Perhaps later. Greenroof?”

“If it’s Greenroof, then Edmund gets another birthday,” Lucy sighed. “Eleven or twelve, Ed?”

“Neither,” put in Susan. “A thousand, if you’re going to rationalize it that way. Now everyone hush, please, and get some sleep.”

.

Edmund’s birthday was the fifteenth day of Greenroof by the Narnian reckoning. Greenroof, late summer, when all the leaves were dark and broad. Narnian summers were long, but Greenroof was the last and best of the summer months. Greenroof was hunts through the dense foliage, blackberries heavy with juice, lazy afternoons, bonfires, wild romps, and the pleasant kind of sweat. Edmund’s birthday celebrations were always held on Dancing Lawn in the old days: the sort of long, laughter-bright nights that summer was made for.

. 

The second time Edmund celebrated his eleventh birthday, it was just past three months since he and his siblings had returned home from the country. Their house was glass-strewn and battered, but still standing when they arrived home. By August it was beginning to feel really safe again, but sometimes Edmund still woke in the night to find his mother standing silent in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her two sons returned to her.

The professor sent one of Ivy’s famous spice cakes for Edmund’s birthday. It arrived tied in red string, which made Lucy reminisce fondly about dear Mr. Tumnus. Edmund’s siblings pooled their allowances to buy him the new Nero Wolfe detective novel, and his mother gave him a new cap and an electric torch.

“How do you feel?” his mother asked over dinner.

“I don’t feel any older, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Eleven feels just the same as ten did yesterday.”

. 

All four of them missed their birthdays the first year in Narnia. Too much else was going on at the time, and none of them was quite sure when their birthdays were supposed to be besides. The measurement of time was a thoroughly tangled issue.

The Narnian year had four hundred days even, divided into fourteen months of inconsistent lengths. Furthermore, the kingdom had only known winter for the last hundred years. The Narnians themselves were still remembering how the calendar worked in a world where the seasons changed. They didn’t have the words yet to explain it to their sovereigns.

. 

“Eustace,” said Edmund, “your journal is wrong.”

“Give me that,” Eustace scowled at once. “I know it’s wrong, but there’s no need to rub my face in it. Aren’t I trying to make up for how I was?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. The month is wrong. You’ve got September written here, but time works differently in Narnia than it does in the Other Place. Haven’t you noticed that it’s summer, not autumn?”

“Oh.” Eustace shrugged. “I followed Occam’s Razor and assumed that the climate here was different rather than time itself.”

“Occam’s what?” This was Lucy.

“Occam’s Razor: the simplest solution to a problem is the most likely—never mind. Well, go on, what month is it?”

“Highgrass,” said Lucy.

“July,” said Edmund at the same moment. “More or less.”

 .

They worked it all out one afternoon as the second spring of their reign was ending. Peter and Susan wrote out the English calendar on one stack of parchment while Edmund and Lucy sat down with the Narnian calendar and penciled in seasonal markers as best they could manage.

“The first crocuses came up right at the end of Cleardome, yes?”

“Yes, I think so. And the snowdrops were in their full glory that month too.”

“How do you want to deal with leap year?”

“Just forget about it. Narnia doesn’t have anything similar, so I think twenty-eight days for February is fine for our purposes.”

“Magnolia in Laceveil, yes?”

“Laceveil is a good marker in general. We ought to set that as May and go from there.”

Birthdays were guesses, no matter how much counting they did. Yet as memories of England receded and Narnia’s world blossomed into everything they knew, those guesses solidified into fact. Edmund turned eleven for the first time on the fifteenth day of Greenroof. He was the first of his siblings to celebrate a proper birthday in Narnia.

. 

The fourth time Edmund turned twelve, he received another electric torch to replace the one he’d lost. He laughed for half a minute, holding that gift in his hand.

“Really, you should have expected it,” said Susan primly.

"I did."

Their mother tsked and added something about keeping track of one’s belongings, but that was alright. His siblings understood.

Edmund flicked on the light and watched the beam land on the far wall across the living room. Bright at the edges and dark towards the center where the bulb was. He moved his wrist sideways and watched the spot of light follow.  

. 

Edmund might have forgotten about his birthday aboard the Dawn Treader if Lucy hadn’t remembered. She conspired with the cook to have a spread of Edmund’s favorite foods at supper (such as could be managed at sea) and coerced Rynelf into playing jigs on his fiddle afterwards. While they were dancing, Caspian called for a cask of his best wine, and soon the ship’s whole company was making merry like only Narnians could.

“Didn’t you have a twelfth birthday the last time you were in Narnia?” Caspian asked curiously as the party was dying down.

“Yes,” Edmund replied, “and the time before that too. Confused yet?”

“Ed has all the luck,” Lucy pouted playfully. “We always seem to return to Narnia in the summer, so he gets all the extra birthdays.”

Caspian's face lit up. “How extraordinary! When’s yours then?”

“Cleardome. There’s a year and a half between Ed and me, and he never lets me forget it.”

“It’s really not as exciting as all that,” Edmund added. “We’re not living our lives backwards, or unstuck in time, or any such nonsense. It’s more like—our lives are folded in on themselves, you see? But never the same way twice.”

“I think it’s more like music than anything else,” Lucy said, a kind of fond wistfulness in her voice.

“Yes,” said Edmund. “I know what you mean.”

. 

On the thirteenth of Greenroof, the Telmarines laid down their arms and surrendered to Old Narnia. The next day, messengers were sent forth across the land with news of the surrender and with terms for the Telmarines. Caspian’s coronation followed, and then Edmund woke and it was his birthday again.

Breakfast that morning was long and languid, for Peter and Susan knew that they must say farewell to Narnia, even if the younger ones did not. They lingered round the table with Caspian and Trumpkin and the rest, and presently Peter offered a toast.

“To my brother King Edmund, who is eleven and twelve and sixty-three and thirteen hundred years old today.”

Everyone raised their cups and repeated, “King Edmund.” Caspian nodded and added, “Long live the king,” with an almost ironic tilt to his head.

Naturally, Edmund nodded back. “And to you, King Caspian. Long may you reign.”

Another round of assent followed, and then Lucy cleared her throat. “But also,” she said, “To late summer and the rebirth of Our Narnia. And to the land, the sea, the hills, the trees, the sky, Cair Paravel-by-the-sea and Dancing Lawn and all the flowers that are still in bloom. And to the color green. To all of us here today, and to those who are gone. And to Aslan.”

“Here, here.”

There were tears in Susan’s eyes now. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, and squeezed Edmund’s hand tight. Edmund looked down at his plate, fiercely overcome with love for this place and these people. In a strict, chronological sense, it had been less than a month since his last birthday, but how did the saying go? Time was just a tangled string, or falling snow, or whatever else Aslan told it to be.

. 

“Bother,” said Edmund, “I’ve left my new torch in Narnia.”

Everyone chuckled at this, but Susan said, “Wait a year. We’ll get you a new one for your next birthday.”

[mishy-mashy]

[astradyke]

okay hi i'm Back Here again general thoughts of my own :3

I - i think the board game is going to be a definite thing happening, possibly alongside or in lieu of a new merch drop, but i don't think it's going to be the big project. if we're going off of dan's later and a little bit after that or whatever strange thing he said, i could see this as being one of those two, alongside something bigger. i know someone said in someone's inbox (sorry horrid memory) that Relatable took on new copyrights so i think this is near definite

II - i could see how they're gearing up for a tour in the sense that we're in the d&p renaissance but i genuinely don't think they'll even start ramping up for a tour until at least next year. dan wrapped up WAD like a few months ago and we're so new into the consistent content gig that switching into the rhythm of a tour feels weird. that being said i think most likely, 2025/6 d&p tour that is (potentially) their last collab tour.

III - i think if DINOK is going to happen it's gonna be a book and i'm pretty confident on this? in which case i would actually genuinely read it; i love d&p so bear w even though this sounds like a haterism but i actually don't love their on stage scripted comedy sometimes so it would be a win for me if DINOK was a book (also think he's maybe hinted at this?)

IV - i think the odds of them doing a film/series of some kind is HIGHLY LIKELY and personally i would annihilate this i would be ripping at it with my teeth you understand me. i could see this mostly being some kind of fictional though or maybe half fictional half biopic (you know what i mean?) but i know these guys have got Creative Ideas and i think whether it's original concept they act, or them riffing off their own lives with something (kinda DINOK-esque), it'd be something they haven't really done before and would definitely qualify as like New Project

V - bonus: it takes two #2 before the end of june. i believe this. it might be the 29th it might be the 30th but i think it'll be pre-announcement, and i'm expecting announcement early july

tldr: merch + board game, then film or series; tour in 2025 or 2026

anyway! i yap more than daniel james howell sorry (i'm always saying this) but lmk thoughts if u have them!! especially about what the film/series might be because if u can't tell i'm kinda waffling lol idk what it might be

[trans-xianxian]

my personal convoluted answer to the question is that both pre death and post res wei wuxian have the possibility to resurrect lan wangji in a fit of emotion (pre death moreso because of you know the deteriorating mental state), but pre death wei wuxian would not resurrect lan wangji on purpose, and post res wei wuxian would only do so with express permission, which I can't imagine lan wangji giving

[pcktknife]

I should really play sun and moon ...

[twpsyn-who]

Soulmate AU in which you see the way you die when you touch your soulmate for the first time.

And yeah we have the classic "bottle to the neck" scene which is kiss chief 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 BUT I present to you "Steve touched Eddie by mistake during high school" with a little bit of "Steve is an idiot and didn't notice" and "Eddie is suffering".

The fall of 1883. Steve has yet to make a move on Nancy, let alone touch her. Meanwhile Eddie is living his best life as of yet : his father finally got put in prison, new freshman has joinend his club and they finally found a drummer for their band. Yes, Will Byers got missing and Eddie felt a little bad for Jonathan, but that was life. Nothing could change Eddie's good vibes.

Until The King of Hawkins runs by him while trying to get to one Nancy Wheeler. The touch was barely there, a hand brushing by Eddie's leather jacket, but it was enough to trigger their apparent soulmate bound. That's when Eddie saw himself in front of his trailer (which looked more like a military base or a fortress with how heavily guarded it was), holding into a made up spear and a shield made with a bin's lid with nails pushed into it. There were huge bats (?) (Eddie wasn't sure what to name the things in the sky yet) getting out of the trailer and him from the vision began running towards one of the bikes outside, getting on one of them and pedalling away from the trailer.

He was yelling for them to follow him. It probably made sense, if uncle Wayne was in the trailer, for him to try get those monsters away. That didn't stop Eddie from being surprised at seeing himself trying to be the hero.

He was no hero. Eddie has always run away from conflicts, from fights and situations that put him in a bad spot. From help too, until his father finally lost it to the alcohol and Eddie has to accept uncle Wayne's offer to move with him if he wanted to stay alive. He was known for running away.

Yet he was trying to get the monsters away from the trailer, distract their attention. And he made a good job too, until his bike got stuck into a vine and made him hit the ground. Eddie felt sick while watching his vision self try fight the monsters only to get pinned down by them and eaten alive. He from the vision was yelling from pain and it took agonizingly long for the huge bats (looking closer they had no resemblance of bats, yet it felt right to call them as such for some reasons) to drop on the ground. By then it was more blood outside of Eddie than inside and he could see his vision's self organs from one of the bites.

There was more, Eddie knew there was more to watch, more to see before he was going to take his last breath, but the vision was too much and it took all of his willpower to get out of it. By then he was alone in the hallway, the classes going while he was watching his own death happen. He went straight for the bathroom and pushed his way into the first stall before getting on his knees and vomiting all he got to eat the other day.

He was crying. Eddie could tell that it was going to happen soon, with how young he looked in the vision. At that point it didn't even mattered anymore that his soulmate was the biggest jerk alive, not when the future was so dark and he wouldn't survive it.

Somehow Eddie spent the rest of the school classes in the bathroom, switching between vomiting and mourning over something that he was never going to have.

[fingertipsmp3]

I’ve just realised another reason why Edward Cullen is an idiot. He acts like provoking the Volturi is the only surefire way to die, but surely he could’ve had a similar effect by provoking some random nomads, and brought way less danger on the rest of the family? Sure, it would’ve taken longer, but he wouldn’t have had to go all the way to Italy or deal with a possible refusal, or Aro’s creepiness. Idk, just seems like a better way