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eloves-writes · 6 months

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careful who you’re talking to

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: snow hears a conversation with the academy boys about the girl he is secretly seeing and wants them to know who you belong to warnings: snow being snow like fr (toxic, controlling, insane, blah blah blah), smut, exhibitionism, public sex, unwarranted sexual comments about reader behind her back, she/her pronouns used, reader is wearing a dress, if i need to add any other warnings please lmk a/n: hiiiii! i'm back again. this is slightly unhinged and i didn't mean for it to be this unhinged but anyway hope u enjoy, send any and all coriolanus requests my way! mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

it was a cold night in the capitol, and you were steadily sipping a glass of posca to keep warm in your blood-red dress. the silky material was slit up your leg and cut down to reveal just the right amount of cleavage; you might feel a chill but you looked damn good and everybody knew it.

especially coriolanus snow. the two of you had been spending a lot of time together recently- behind bookshelves in the library, in dark corners of the academy halls, bend over desks in empty classrooms. it had begun as purely physical. stress relief. but after a month or so, you had each caught feelings for the other and were struggling with whether or not to admit it. and in that moment, he was also struggling tremendously to take his eyes off of you.

you stood talking across the room with arachne and livia, unable to concentrate on whatever meaningless gossip they were discussing with the feeling of coriolanus’ ice blue eyes on you; there was an electric thrill passing between you like you were connected with a live wire. to say your relationship so far had been hot and heavy would be an extremely severe understatement, and you found your mind constantly occupied with the thought of him touching you and the need to have him touch you again.

“i think y/n is checking me out,” festus creed smirked to the group of boys around him.

coriolanus almost snorted in amusement. you were obviously looking at him, and only him.

“something funny, snow?” gaius asked sharply. “jealous, perhaps?”

snow reserved his irritation. “not at all, breen.”

“whoever she is looking at,” felix stated earnestly, “i’m certainly jealous of them. i mean, just look at her. she looks fucking hot.”

festus nodded in agreement. “i’d love to rip that dress off of her. she acts so innocent, but you just know she likes it rough.”

coriolanus felt his blood boil. you were his. how dare they talk about you like you were a common whore? perhaps you did like it rough. he would know, he was the one fucking you. not these basic capitol losers. none of them could make you scream the way he did. none of them had scratches down their backs beneath their shirts from your nails. only he did. only he ever would, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

the other boys laughed, agreeing with festus. adding on their own ideas. detailing the ways they’d make you fuck them. describing the times you had supposedly sent them signals. assuming that you did not already belong to snow, that you would even think about going near them. that you would get on your knees for them like you always did for coriolanus.

he couldn’t listen to them any longer. “she’s seeing somebody,” he jeered, fixing the cuffs of his jacket and making definitive, unquestionable eye contact with you and subtly tilting his head towards the exit.

festus laughed incredulously. “is she now? i think we’d have heard.”

oh you’ll hear it alright.

“yes,” coriolanus replied with a chilling calm, watching you make your way to the door. “if you’ll excuse me.”

on the steps outside the ridiculously grand building, you waited patiently for snow to follow you out. it was only a few minutes before you heard the door open again, turning to face corio and immediately sensing anger. you worried, sometimes, about his anger. you knew he wouldn’t seriously harm you, but the same could most certainly not be said for any others who dared cross his path. the future president of panem could only afford so much blood on his hands.

“what’s wrong, coriolanus?” you asked gently.

he inhaled deeply and stared into your eyes in a way that strongly suggested you would be unable to walk the next morning. you waited for him to answer.

“you shouldn’t have worn that dress," he warned.

“what?”

“you heard me.”

either the cold or a fucked up part of you sent shivers down your spine, hairs standing up on your neck. your underwear dampened at his fury.

“i thought you would like it, corio,” you flirted, stepping closer to him. he placed a large, firm hand on your waist.

“i do like it, y/n,” he said before speaking in a low voice. “i would like it better if you took it off.”

you smiled and leaned up to kiss him, but he turned his head. you pulled a face in protest.

“behave,” he spat. “so desperate. do you not want to know why you shouldn’t have worn this?”

“yes, corio,” you replied, doing your best impression of somebody who wasn’t about to throw yourself on top of him. he liked when you were patient.

“because every man in that room wants to see it on their bedroom floor," he attested lowly.

“and you’re jealous,” you smirked.

coriolanus suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair and roughly pulled your head backwards so that your face was tilted towards his. “and nobody else should be looking at you like that.”

a jolt of excitement ran through you. “corio-”

he gave your hair another tug. “say you’re mine.”

“am i yours?”

he realised instantly the meaning of your question. he didn’t have to think about his reply; he had thought about it every waking moment since the day you met. “you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours.”

“good girl,” snow spoke deeply before kissing you like he’d never kissed you before. without breaking apart from your lips, coriolanus guided you around to the side of the building. he counted the windows you passed until finally stopping by one that was cracked open and pushing you against the cold wall. as he removed his jacket and unfastened his belt, he looked inside the hall and you assumed he was checking no one was looking. he wasn’t. he was making sure that festus creed and the other boys were still stood in the same spot; directly in front of this particular window, and far enough from the rest of the partygoers that only the boys would hear you.

you gathered the skirt of your dress at your waist and wrapped your legs around corio’s sturdy form as he reached to move your underwear to the side. he circled your clit until you were practically whimpering, then slid two fingers inside of you.

“corio, feels so good,” you moaned softly.

he kept his same pace with his fingers, fucking you into a state of bliss where he knew you would be uninhibited and so drunk with his stimulation that people would think you’d finished every glass of posca in this stupid party. coriolanus was too good at what he was doing, you were on the edge of release within minutes and still desperately trying to quiet yourself in the name of dignity.

“corio, please, corio, i’m so close,” you whimpered into his neck.

he pulled away his hand, making you whine in displeasure. he liked to do that. liked to know he was in complete control of you, you would only cum when he willed it.

corio looked through the window again, but the boys had yet to hear anything out of the ordinary. they were still laughing amongst themselves. he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, using the slick on from your pussy to stroke himself before he pushed inside of you.

you tried again to stay quiet, but coriolanus began to coax you. “look at you, taking me so well. you wouldn’t let anybody else fuck you like this, would you? who makes you feel this good, huh?”

you couldn’t hold back anymore, his beautiful face spewing such foul things whilst fucking you raw and digging his fingertips into your flushed skin. “you do, corio. fuck,” you moaned, loudly enough that festus turned to look outside.

coriolanus smirked as they made eye contact. the initial confusion about the sounds coming from outside, the look of shock as he realised his classmate was balls deep in a girl he had pushed against the exterior of a building in the damn capitol, his face finally dropping as he realised who corio was fucking by the colour of your messed up hair and the visible strap of your dress, his eyes widening as he heard the things snow was saying to you.

your moans were getting louder too as you got even closer to your orgasm, whimpering corio’s name and repeating “i’m yours,” like a mantra.

snow took his gaze from the boys to you, feeling satisfied that he’d proved his point and starting to performatively enjoy himself, knowing yours weren't the only eyes on him. his pace quickened, driving you over the edge and making you clench around him as you came. he moaned aloud himself as continued to fuck you through your high and the overstimulation that came after until he finished inside of you.

you were completely fucked out, relishing the feeling of snow’s cum beginning to drip down your thighs after he swiftly removed your underwear to fold into his back pocket. he picked his discarded jacket up from the floor and placed it over your shoulders, kissing your head and leading you to the front of the building and helping you into a car which would take you both home. before you walked away from the window though, coriolanus smoothly pulled your lace panties from his pocket and waved them nonchalantly in the night air, catching the attention of the rest of the group. you would never have to know why he fucked you, only that the boys would stop bothering you now they knew who you belonged to.

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cupid-styles · 1 month

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a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day.

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem.

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.”

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.)

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life.

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago.

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that.

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups.

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish.

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it.

Until now.

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem.

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods.

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation.

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply.

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception.

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her.

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept).

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed.

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response.

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response.

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number.

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.”

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach.

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees.

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?”

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure.

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it.

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls.

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm.

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline.

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name.

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

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denimbex1986 · 5 months

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'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”

...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.

“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”

“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?

It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.

Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.

That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.

In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.

It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?

It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.

Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?

Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.

Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?

They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.

Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?

It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]

Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?

I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.

There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?

There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.

Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?

Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.

To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.

Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.

Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.

I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?

I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.

Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?

Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.

[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]

I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…

I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”

3K notes · View notes

dellalyra · 10 months

Note

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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buhok-ng-bruha · 2 years

Text

Uh oh! A Jehovah’s Witness is at my door!

A guide on what the fuck is happening and what to do about it as a never JW, from an exJW.

JW congregations have just been told to start doing door-to-door preaching (aka ‘service’/‘service work’/‘witnessing’) again this September. They stopped for the past few years due to…well. The whole state of things. But it’s starting again! Fuck!

So, to get you folks in on the Secret Inner-workings of a Cult:

JWs do service work mostly on Saturdays and Sundays, but any day of the week is fair game, just less of them will be out on other days. Generally it’ll be in the mornings (anywhere between 9AM to 1PM being common, my family did 10AM to noon Saturdays), but any time of day is also fair game. Evening witnessing is encouraged, to catch parts of the service area who didn’t answer during morning service, like people who were at work or asleep.

JWs are given ‘territories’: entire neighborhoods if they’re a majority language and can generally bet on most of the people in a given area speaking that language; SPECIFIC ADDRESSES if they belong to a smaller language demographic. These are on ‘territory cards’, which include areas to fill out once they’ve called on houses. They often pull addresses from the phone book or other such directory, pulling based on name, or get referred new addresses from neighborhood sweeps in other congregations and were told x language was being spoken, so if you get called on by someone speaking your language and wonder how they got your address, it’s because they’ve collected data already! On You!

On that note: JWs collect data on you! A lot of it!! Those territory cards they fill out? They can include any information they gleaned from conversation (age? gender? personal details like if you’re married, if you live with your parents, etc? what religion do you belong to? any problems in your life they can ‘help’ with? any ‘problematic’ details, like if you’re queer? all of it.); if someone was home or not (yes we can see you peeking out from behind your curtains! we looked in windows!); if the person answering the door was uninterested; if they were aggressive; if they have dogs; if we were able to leave any publications with them; the details of any conversations we had, like which topics we discussed and which seemed to interest you the most; when to call on you again. The areas to fill this in on these cards are rather small so they usually only write down the most important information, but it is the most important information for trying to indoctrinate you into a cult. DO NOT give them any personal information. It will be used against you.

So that’s the gist of it. Now, you don’t want them at your door, probably.

Please do not harass them.

I know they’re annoying. We always knew we were being annoying. They do it anyways because they think they’re helping you. They often have children with them - not only because it’s often families going preaching together, but also because it’s a well known tactic to get a softer response from people they call on, to have a child with you. Even if there are no children, please do not harass JWs - they are cult victims, and doing so will only enforce their ‘us vs them’ mentality, and discourages members from leaving. The outside world hates you so much, so how can you leave?

“But what if—“ Nope! Beyond the whole ‘don’t be fucking cruel to abuse victims’ thing, it doesn’t even work! I’ve been threatened with dogs; my mother has been threatened with machetes; others have been flashed, or physically assaulted - we still went back eventually. Usually someone else would get the assignment, and usually we’d wait a bit, but we still went back.

“Okay, but what the fuck do I do, then?”

You open the door (yes, open the door; if you ignore them they’ll return again, assuming they just missed you or you were busy), let them tell you what they’re there for, and before the conversation goes further, you simply say:

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

And then you tell them goodbye. Nothing more. Don’t say you have your own religion. Don’t say you’re queer. Don’t try to use the ‘magic word’ apostate - actual former members can get harassed.

Unfortunately, despite this being the most successful and least harmful strategy, it isn’t 100% foolproof. They’re supposed to write ‘do not call’ on the territory card next to your address, but they’re human and forget sometimes (or might not mark it intentionally, though I haven’t seen that personally); the next person who gets that card might not see the mark, as well. On top of everything else, even if not forgotten, they will eventually come back. It’s policy to come by after some time to check on you, ‘just in case’: just in case you changed your mind, just in case you moved and there’s someone else there now, just in case, oh, you recently had a loved one pass away and suddenly find yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position in need of support and sympathy.

If you have the knowledge and mental/emotional energy and stability to, you can go about trying to debate them, maybe help some of them doubt, but it is no easy task and there is no guarantee of any success. It takes a lot of patience. They are undergoing some extreme brainwashing and ‘waking up’ is incredibly traumatizing, and you will face a lot of resistance in trying to deconvert any of them. Again, only attempt this if you have the energy, stability, and knowledge required - the delicacy required, too. Otherwise, remember, it’s

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

Nothing more.

#cult #how to avoid jws #how to avoid jehovah’s witnesses #please reblog #psa #exjw

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strawbeerossi · 4 months

Text

August || Chapter One

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: After a few days, you are back at the office whenever you have an emotional outburst over the JJ/Spencer situation. That leaves you to have a soul shattering boundary you need to put into place.

Content/Warnings: Drama in the workplace, mentions of questioning self worth, Penelope is the best friend ever (duh), horrible friends, Spencer is an ass (again, sorry lmao)

WC: 2K

Navigation || August Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @sadroses98 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @cultish-corner @s0urmarvel @measure-in-pain @yourfavoritefangirl @imjustheretoreads-blog @bookworm003 @finnysmusic @itsbritney123 @hizzielover @tlou-reid @babyspiderling @sunsebaessie @lilrios-world @reidsdaisies @heleaflm @emotionalecho @witchcraftandwit @azxulaa @small-and-violent @corpsebridenightamare

“I don’t think I can come in today. I’m sick." You spoke to Emily over the phone, even feigning a cough, as you were just hoping she’d fall for it. It was only a few days after the wedding, the whole water in the face incident creeping up to embarrass you.

“You can’t avoid them forever, you know. Now come to the office. All you need to do is work and then go home. No need to talk to JJ or Spencer.” The unit chief spoke over the phone, her tone making you just feel the disapproving look on her face.

“Fine..” You huffed a bit while pushing yourself up from your couch, already dressed for the day, anyway. “I’ll be there soon.” With a defeated sigh, you were hanging up the phone and pocketing the device. It would be a good day, right? All you had to do was get through it.

The drive to the office was horrible, feeling nauseous with each mile you drove. Most people would assume that after your small outburst at the wedding, you’d feel better. That was far from the case. The action just made you feel worse, knowing that Spencer nor JJ attempted to follow you out, to explain themselves. There was radio silence from both of them.

You probably should’ve expected that.

As you arrived at the dreaded building and parked in the parking garage, it wasn’t long until you were on the elevator and on your way up to the floor you needed to get to. The more you stood there, the sicker you felt. Facing two people who you are forced to work with is going to do nothing but hurt you even further. You could quit, although then you’d be homeless. Putting in a transfer was a good option, even if you’d miss your other teammates.

The sound of the elevator’s ding was tearing you from your thoughts, your steps deliberately smaller and slower just to take the last few seconds to prepare yourself. The minute your hand was on the glass doors of the bullpen, you knew there was no more hiding.

Much to your surprise, the team was too busy at their desks to even look up. Thank god. You quietly approached your desk, your purse being placed underneath, as you took your seat. That got everyone’s attention.

“Hey.” Luke spoke first, a smile on his face. “You’re later than you usually are, was worried we’d have to come get you.” He joked, causing Tara to laugh softly from her desk.

“We would’ve been there too. It isn’t a good workday when you’re not here.”

At least you knew the rest of the team considered you as a friend. No way they’d ever do the things JJ and Spencer did to you. Just thinking of them had a frown on your face, your eyes on a file that you’d opened previously.

“Well, I couldn’t leave my favorite people hanging, could I?” You finally broke the silence while offering a forced smile. The idea of a transfer just made you feel horrible now. You were stuck here, no escape in sight.

While you were working on a case file you’d neglected, it wasn’t long before the door was opening again. This time, there was laughter and lighthearted discussion from two very distinct voices that you recognized. God damn it.

It was best to keep your eyes down, even though you could feel every person’s eyes burning into your skin, just waiting for a reaction. You felt like a circus act, expected to perform based on one interaction you had a few days ago.

The three of you didn’t even have to look each other in the eyes in order to make the whole room thick with tension that the strongest knife couldn’t even cut. “Can we be adults? I really don’t wanna discuss what happened.” JJ spoke up, knowing the attention was on all three of you.

The audacity of her wanting to move on was what made you finally turn around, your ears heating from the anger that was still deep inside you. “Are you kidding me? You wanna be an adult and not get questions?” You asked, unable to help the laugh that fell from your lips. “Here’s a question that I know you want to be asked; How’s Will doing? Judging by how you wasted his time for.. Eleven years? Better yet, how are Michael and Henry? I think that someone needs to look out for them.” Venom seeped deep into every syllable.

She had a family. A husband who loved her, children who adored her and needed her. Yet here she was, with a man who she hadn’t even shown any interest in. The whole situation made you sick to even think about.

“That’s not fair.” The blonde spoke up, visibly hurt by the topic being brought up. The absolute fucking nerve.

“You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Will and the boys at all. I guess you didn’t stop to think about them, did you?”

“Enough!” Emily snapped from the doorway of her office, arms crossed over her chest. “This is ridiculous. The last thing any of us need is you two bickering all the time. I suggest you solve this and let it go. I will not deal with the bullshit. I’m sorry.”

The frustration of your unit chief made you take a breath, putting your hands up. “I can’t pretend like this is right and I will not endorse this fraud of a relationship. If you choose to fire me, that’s fine.” Your built up anger and hurt made you push in your chair, your purse on your arm as you were storming out of the bullpen.

Penelope was the one that caught you in the hallway as you were making your escape. “Wait!” She screamed, quickly following behind you and grabbing your arm before you could make it to the elevator. “Come hang out with me for a little bit. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

You didn’t answer, instead just letting the tech analyst pull you behind her into the safety of the batcave. As soon as that heavy door was closed and you realized you were with one of your best friends, it was like the dam holding in all your tears had been burst open as a hot stream of tears was running down your cheeks.

“Oh, honey..” Penelope frowned softly as she was letting her arms wrap around your body, giving you a tight squeeze as she was rubbing your back. “It’s okay, you can sit in here as long as you want. We will just tell Emily that you need some Garcia time.” Everyone could benefit from such time.

You were forced into one of the chairs while the bubbly blonde grabbed one of her many phones to inform Emily on what was going on. “Just so you know, I don’t think you’re wrong for feeling the way you do. I would be just as upset.” She assured, the woman now sitting down beside you while gently holding your hand. “I just think that you should maybe calm down a bit. We don’t need any physical fights.”

“I can’t help it, Pen. Why? Why would JJ encourage me to tell Spencer how I feel about him and then jump on him at the next opportunity. She has a family.” You knew that she wouldn’t have a concrete answer for you but you had to admit, it was nice just ranting to her about it. “It also hurts knowing that Spencer just.. Stopped talking to me. It made me feel like I was a placeholder for her. Like he was just entertaining himself until what he truly wanted came around..”

There was a soft silence between you both, though it was soon being broken whenever there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Penelope called to the mystery guest, although the both of you were in a stunned silence whenever Spencer Reid was poking his head through the door.

“I come in peace, just let me talk.”

“Too little, too late. I don’t wanna hear it.” You spoke, standing your ground.

Instead of taking the hint, the man just entered the room before closing the door behind him. “I understand that you’re mad at me, pissed at me even. I can handle it. That being said, I don’t want trouble. I came to personally apologize. I was a shitty friend to you these past few days with not reaching out.”

“You are a shitty friend, Spencer. You know, I thought you were supposed to be by my side. I don’t expect you to be madly in love with me but what kind of friend ignores someone for days? What kind of friend makes their friend feel unimportant and makes them question their self worth?” You asked, keeping your composure as you were going to put everything on the table.

“I think you’re a horrible friend. Not just to me but to Will. I think you’re a horrible person who broke up a family. JJ may have left Will but you didn’t even stop and try to make her consider her husband. You were selfish.”

It seemed like a sobering realization, judging by the way Spencer’s eyes widened and his body went stiff. He needed to hear that, even if he wasn’t planning on changing things. “I- Wow. I don’t know what to say,” He let out an awkward chuckle as his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sure you don’t. Doesn’t sound like a good situation whenever someone says it out loud, does it?” You asked, voice cracking toward the end of the sentence as you were clearing your throat. “I just want you to know that I have no interest in talking to you outside of work. I think it’s best for you just to stay away.” A necessary boundary that killed you inside, however it needed to be put into place.

“You don’t mean that. I don’t wanna lose you permanently like that. Please, just take some time to consider.”

“You lost me the moment that you chose to devote every ounce of your time to someone who didn’t ever say that she wanted to be with you until the night you were in a hostage situation together.”

“We weren’t even dating, listen to yourself. We had sex, what, a few times? I hardly find that as something serious, especially whenever you never even seemed like you objected to the thought of something casual.”

“Spencer Reid!” Penelope’s horrified voice was what solidified that you weren’t crazy, that he was in the wrong just as much as you could be.

You wanted to scream, punch him, cry, and just lose it. This wasn’t the place for such outbursts but you knew that the minute you got out of everyone’s line of sight, you were going to shatter.

Your nights spent with Spencer were something you cherished. The way he’d touch you, the way he’d hold you.. It just felt like there was something real there, the potential for a love story that you could read about in novels, see in movies, even hear in songs. Instead, you were casted off as a casual plaything. There was no care behind the long nights spent tangled in one another’s embrace.

“You know,” There was a laugh erupting, your arms over your chest. “JJ is gonna get bored of you. If she can leave her husband, she will leave you too. I think the day she does that is the day that you will feel the same way that I do. And you know what? I hope it fucking hurts. I hope she keeps you up at night wondering why you weren’t good enough.”

With that, you were done. Emily would most definitely be calling you in her office for a meeting in the morning, so you just grabbed your bag and walked to the elevator.

You said what you needed to say and you thought it would make you feel relieved, instead, there was more hurt than you could’ve possibly fathomed.

How stupid you were to think that he actually saw something in you.

#criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid au #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #strawbeerossi august series #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid scenario

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fickleminder · 4 months

Text

sacrificial lamb

The impossible choice between you and the Devildom.

I can’t believe I didn’t see anything based on this cliffhanger yet. I gotta do everything myself, don’t I. Spoilers for the Frost event!

“Well, it was nice knowing you guys.”

The joke fell flat as everyone’s heads whipped towards you with varying degrees of shock and horror.

“You… How can you possibly think that we’d ever consider—”

“It’s the classic trolley problem. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” you explained with a sad smile. “You of all people should understand that.”

Diavolo visibly winced. You were right, as always. The fate of the Devildom and all its denizens hung in the balance.

“There has to be another way.” Solomon shook his head, unwilling to accept the ultimatum. “Barbatos, let me try talking to it—”

“I’m afraid we are out of options. The white wolf expects an answer before it returns to the ice realm, and we do not have any bargaining power at the moment.”

Lucifer’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t realize when he’d grabbed it, but now it was the only thing keeping you upright.

There’s a rumor that the white wolf likes beautiful things. It freezes them and keeps them in its personal collection. Thirteen’s words burned at the back of your mind and sent chills down your spine. You knew better than to take rumors at face value, but the reaper was rarely wrong about these kind of things. Your mental impression of a soft, fluffy good boy was quickly twisting into one of a sadistic beast straight out of a nightmare.

The impatient howls echoing from the summoning chambers weren’t helping your nerves either.

“What if I went and bought you some time?” You whispered to Lucifer, who’d been watching quietly from the sidelines as Diavolo, Barbatos and Solomon dissolved into frantic discussion. “Maybe this arrangement isn’t permanent. I could go with it for now, until you find something else it wants more than me.”

“Out of the question.” The demon shot you down without hesitation. “There’s no guarantee the white wolf will respond to our summons a second time, and only it knows the way to the ice realm. If we let you go now, we risk losing you forever.”

All the breath left your lungs in a shaky exhale. An unbidden image popped into your head: a crystal statue of a human figure preserved in ice, curled up for warmth that would never come, a hand reaching out for loved ones who would never be seen or held again.

Lucifer drew you closer as you shivered, and you decided to let him think the cold was finally getting to you.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon

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drudyslut · 3 months

Text

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only! forced arranged marriage, strong language. (Y/D/N + Y/M/N = your mom and dads names)

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated<3

part two

❥ marrying the enemy — r.c

Y/N

I’ve always known my father had some fucked up trick up his sleeve for my life. I always knew he’d pawn me off somehow, someway. Anything to make a quick buck, right? The thought alone sends me spiraling. Makes me see red. Anger. Shame. Fear. All the emotions that swirl through my mind as I pace my father’s in-home study, awaiting the arrival of none other than Rafe Cameron and his father, Ward Cameron.

I’m not one hundred percent sure what it is my father has planned, but I do know if it involves me being in the room, waiting on Rafe and Ward to arrive for a “meeting” as my dad put it. It can’t be good.

“Please sit down and stop pacing, sweetheart. You’re making me nervous” My father says, snapping me back into the cruel reality that is my life.

I stare back at him for a moment, mouth slightly parted in shock. I’m making him nervous? What about me? And my feelings? I was happy just an hour ago. Sitting in my room, studying for my upcoming final exam, when my father knocks on my door, letting me know my presence is needed in his study. When I asked him why? He told me that the Cameron’s were coming over, and that we had things to discuss. Things that would benefit both of our families tremendously.

Letting out a deep and frustrated sigh, I obey. I plop myself onto the large black leather couch that’s sat against the back wall of his office. I chew at the skin of my lower lip, anxiously scanning the length of the room. I have so many questions. What role could I possibly play in this “family benefiting” situation? I have my theory, but I absolutely hate the thought, so I quickly shove it down.

A few minutes pass, awkward silence and tension fill the air. As I open my mouth to ask what exactly I’m doing here, a knock sounds on the door, making me audibly clamp my mouth shut.

“Doors open” My father says calmly.

I’m not sure why, but now my hands are clammy. Shaking. Anxiety has crawled all the way up my spine, making me sit up right, resting my elbows on my knees that are now anxiously bouncing up and down.

The door is pushed open, and in walks Rafe and Ward. They’re both so different. If they didn’t look so similar, you wouldn’t know that Rafe was Ward’s son. Ward is dressed in a three piece suit with a white button up underneath, shiny black shoes and his hair is done to perfection. Rafe on the other hand is dressed in a simple pair of denim jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and a pair of black and white Nikes. His hair is messy, parted in the middle and giving him the ‘just rolled out of bed’ effect.

No one can deny how attractive Rafe is though. Even I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the Cameron boy’s good looks. He has perfectly plump pink lips that seem to always be drawn into a frown, his eyes are so blue, like the ocean on a cloudless day— you could drown in his eyes — a perfectly defined jawline that could cut diamonds. And his body? Lets just say the few times I’ve hung out with his sister, Sarah, and we’d be lounging by the pool, Rafe and his friends would love to come terrorize us, and I couldn’t ever break my eyes off of his perfectly sculpted body. Hard defined chest and abdomen, tanned, smooth skin. Rafe Cameron is what I’d imagine a Greek God to look like.

But he’s also got a nasty drug habit. A God complex. He truly believes he’s God’s gift to mankind, and that in itself makes him the ugliest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t miss the glare he shoots my way the minute he sees me sitting on the couch. The look in his eyes is so angry, so lifeless. It makes me even more terrified of what’s about to be said in this room. He knows something I don’t, and that is terrifying.

“Thank you for having us over today Y/D/N, I know it was short notice, but Rose and I felt it’s best to get a move on things” Ward says simply, giving away nothing.

Rafe snorts, rolling his eyes as he finds a seat in front of my father’s desk. He crosses his arms across his chest, slumping into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

“Not a problem, Ward. Y/M/N and I agree, it’s time we get this process moving”

Getting annoyed with the beating around the bush they’re playing at, I stand from the couch. “What… What are we talking about? Get what moving?”

My voice sounds small and weak, pulling another forced laugh from Rafe’s chest. He turns his head, blue eyes finding mine as he says, “Oh. You don’t know?”

“Know… Know what?”

“Our parents are making-” Rafe begins but his dad cuts him off.

“That’s enough, Rafe! Sit there and don’t speak unless we say. Got it?”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, but I pay him no mind. Instead, my heated gaze is strictly on my father. His eyes have a small hint of empathy in them, but not much.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Come sit, would you?” He asks.

I try and swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, but I can’t seem to. My entire body is frozen in fear. My mind is racing. I knew Rafe knew something from the moment he stepped foot into this room. The air is thick, and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I don’t dwell on that right now. Instead, I hesitantly make my way over to the chair beside Rafe, slowly sitting down and crossing my ankles together underneath the seat.

Ward clears his throat, “So. As you both know, Cameron Developments has been wanting to merge together with Y/L/N Industries. We think the best way to make our businesses grow and merge together into one big company instead of two working together, is by having one child from each family to be married. And since Sarah is dating John B. and Wheezie is only thirteen, that leaves me with Rafe.” Ward pauses, thinking on how to continue with his spiel. “Your brother is only seventeen, so that couldn’t work. So that leaves you, Y/N.”

I pinch my brows together. I must’ve been hit over the head with a two-ton brick because there’s no way he just said married.

“I- I don’t follow…” I say honestly.

Rafe chuckles, lolling his head to the side so his eyes meet mine once more. “They’re saying we have to get married, princess. Total bullshit, I know. But apparently, we have no choice.”

Ward ignores his son, his eyes finding mine as he takes in a deep breath. “Rafe is right. Albeit his attitude needs some adjustment, he’s right. The two of you are to be married. Your father and I have signed all the necessary paperwork, and all that is left to be done now is get you and Rafe married. As soon as possible.”

My mouth is stuck in an ‘O’ shape, shock and anger rushes through my body. I probably look like an idiot from having my mouth wide open, but I simply do not care. How could my parents do this to me? Pawn me off like I’m a game winning prize? To Rafe fucking Cameron of all people too. All for what? Money? Merging two very successful businesses into one? None of it makes sense. And it’s unfair.

My father’s stern voice pulls me from the thoughts swirling in my mind, “Sweetheart, close your mouth.”

I snap my lips shut, my eyes narrowed into slits on my father. “Daddy. You can’t be fucking serious..”

“Language, Y/N!” He snaps, and I can’t bite back the scoff that escapes me. He has the nerve to say something about my cursing rather than explain why the fuck he’s forcing me to marry… Rafe…

“I’m serious, dad! I’m not marrying him! I don’t love him! Hell, I don’t even like him! You can’t make me marry him!” I snap back.

Rafe snorts beside me. “You think I wanna fucking marry you? The prude, Kook princess who thinks she’s better than everyone else?”

I open my mouth, a sharp comeback sitting at the tip of my tongue, but Ward’s booming voice makes me snap my mouth shut again.

“Rafe! That’s enough. We’ve discussed this, and this is happening. The two of you will just have to learn how to tolerate one another”

My gaze trails back to my father. He’s sitting back in his black leather office chair, his hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. His eyes are void of any emotion. No anger. No sympathy. Nothing.

“Daddy…”

“Sweetheart, this is final. I’m sorry, but Ward is right. This is happening. We’re announcing the engagement this weekend, your mother and Rose have already started planning everything. The wedding will take place in one months time. You will become a Cameron. You both will be doing our family a huge favor.”

I shake my head, a scoff escaping me once again. Standing from my seat, I push my way past Ward and stomp out of my father’s office. I don’t even care if I’m acting like a child right now. I’m being forced to marry Rafe Cameron. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

RAFE TAGLIST: @targaryenbarbie @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @uraesthete @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @kamninaries @biggesthat3r

rafe cameron masterlist | series masterlist | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #arranged marriage #enemies to lovers

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indigovigilance · 7 months

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The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person.

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard.

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry.

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling.

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

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clockwayswrites · 7 months

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Like Betta Fish Do Part 27

Wc:3213 Masterpost CW: Hospitalization, discussions of temporary character deaths

The hospital was pure chaos. Reporters were at the door, police were at the reporters to stay back, and the Waynes were pacing.

None of them had wanted to be left behind, not with this, so as soon as those who had been playing hero changed, they all headed for the hospital. Bruce had met them in a waiting room that had been cleared out for their use. There were benefits to having a wing named after one’s father.

“Clear,” Babs said as she and Tim finished typing on the tablets that they had brought from WE. “CTV cameras will just loop past this room.”

“There are no bugs. I’ve activated scramblers for parabolic mics or anything, not that they should be able to get to us in here anyways,” Tim said.

“What happened?” Steph asked, looking to Bruce.

Bruce looked to Dick. The rest of the eyes followed.

Dick sighed.

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“I believe we are past that, Richard,” Damian snapped.

“Why don’t you start with a debrief of tonight,” Bruce coached.

“I was almost in suit when Babs came over the comms, telling us they took Danny. I started to look for suspicious vehicles given the time frame. I wasn’t successful at spotting anything before the…” Dick was really glad that Jason was back with Danny and not here listening to this. “…before the trap went off. I saw one of the buildings go dark.

"Cass joined me. We took out the henchmen at the van and leading into the building. Based on intel, I headed straight for the basement. The place was flooded an inch or two deep. They broke the sprinkler valve, I believe. Danny was tied to a metal chair bolted in the middle of the room. A wire had been tapped into the circuit breaker and was at Danny’s feet. His shoes were off.”

Dick swallowed hard and let his arms drop to his side. That urge to punch something was still there. He flexed his hands and then purposefully relaxed them.

“I was sure he was dead, but when I called out his name he moved. I made sure the circuit breaker was off, disconnected the wire, and went to him. He was…” Dick snorted, shaking his head. “He was making jokes. He was conscious but not fully lucid. Confusion, slurred words, panic. He didn’t want to be taken to the hospital. He thought they would cut him open if ‘they knew’. I was able to convince him to come by saying we’d get Leslie and that we’d protect him.”

Damian scoffed. “Of course we will.”

“Case?” Cass signed, face scrunched up in question.

“And asked Alfred to bring a case, one that Jason put in the Cave that Danny gave him,” Dick confirmed.

“What’s in it?” Tim asked.

Dick just shook his head.

“He’s a Meta, isn’t he?” Duke asked. The question was quiet, but it felt loud in the tense air of the waiting room. He wasn’t staring at the ground rather than any of them. “Something new. Maybe something dangerous or, worse, something useful. It’s why he’s afraid they’ll cut him open.”

Steph cussed and turned to punch the wall only to be stopped by Tim.

“Is he?” Tim asked.

It seemed like there was no getting out of this question. “’Close enough’ was the way it was put when I stumbled in on… the secret.”

“Are his powers electricity based?” Babs asked. “Is that how he survived?”

Dick laughed. The bitter sound made a few of the others flinch or grimace.

“No, opposite, really. He’s weak to it. I think they only got him because they used tasers and it really knocks him out.” I’m so sorry, Danny, Dick thought. “Danny… Danny’s been electrocuted before when he was a kid. It killed him, however briefly. Really… I’m not sure if it didn’t actually kill him again tonight.”

This time Tim didn’t stop Stephanie from punching the wall.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Dr. Thompkins said as she peeled off her gloves.

Danny just glared at the IV in his hand that had been carefully tapped down and put under a mesh glove.

“It’s like she doesn’t trust me,” Danny whispered loudly to Jason.

“She’s right not to,” Jason said.

Danny pouted at him.

“Fish,” Jason said with a wet chuckle. He ran his hand through Danny’s hair again, which seemed to soothe him. “You said loudly and repeatedly that you were going to go out the window as soon as she stopped watching you or if she took your blood or if she put the IV in.”

“She did take it,” Danny whined.

“I did,” Leslie said, “and I also promised you no one else would get a hold of your blood and I meant it. I need a baseline for you though. It’s my job now to make sure that you’re well.”

“And no clones,” Danny said.

“And no clones,” Leslie said.

She shot Jason a look who just shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know enough about what went down with that to answer her questions.

Leslie gave up with a sigh. “You really went and found someone who fit right in with the family craziness I see.”

“Nah, Doc, he goes above and beyond.”

“Well… that should make for an interesting file.”

Danny flinched at that, hard enough for Leslie to notice and stop what she was doing.

“Danny, listen to me,” Leslie said. She waited until Danny met her eyes to continue. “No one else will see the file. It’s encrypted by Oracle, Batman’s tech person, and that’s understating them. I need to keep a file so that I can treat you and keep you healthy, that’s all.”

“No experiments,” Danny croaked.

Jason wanted to punch someone again.

“No experiments,” Leslie promised.

Danny gave a little nod, turned away from her, and all but climbed into Jason’s lap.

“Make sure he doesn’t pull that IV out,” Leslie ordered and went back to making her notes.

Not long after Jason had gotten him and Danny settled into the hospital bed, there was a knock at the door. Jason’s hand went immediately to the scalpel that Leslie had generously pretended not to notice Jason palming earlier. It didn’t matter that it was a knock Jason recognized, he wasn’t taking any chances with Danny right then.

Jason only relaxed when Dick had stepped fully through the door alone.

“Hey Danny, how are you doing?”

“Leslie took my blood.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Dick said. He was smiling, words cheerful, but Jason could see the cracks in his brother’s facade. “Alfred is going to be here in just a moment with the case. Can I send him in when he arrives? Or I can bring it myself? Or any of us. We’re all out there.”

Danny turned his head enough to be able to peer at Dick with one eye. “You’re worried.”

“Yeah, little fish, we’re all pretty worried. We care about you,” Dick said gently.

Jason resisted the urge to kiss Danny’s pout away as he shifted his gaze from Dick to Leslie.

“Can they come in?” Danny asked.

Leslie pursed her lips. “Only for a half hour. After that, it’s only Jason and one other allowed at a time and that’s only because I want Jason to try to get some rest too. Whoever else is in here is on a minimum two hour shift so not to wake you up every five minutes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dick chirped.

“And tell them to keep it calm,” Leslie called after Dick as he slipped back out the door. She sighed and shook her head before focusing back on Danny. “Now, there will be nurses who come in.”

“Noooo,” Danny whined.

“Yes,” Leslie said. “They’ll just be taking your blood pressure, which they’ll know to expect to be low, and changing out your saline and pain medication. I’ll be back in the morning myself to check on your burns. Everyone who steps foot in this room will be approved by Bruce and I. Someone from the family will be with you the whole time, you’ll be safe in every way.”

Danny’s pout deepened before he sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Danny. Now please try to rest after the group leaves, both of you.”

“Sure, Doc,” Jason answered and sent her a smile. He’d have to do something to help her clinic out soon, she really went above and beyond for them tonight. He managed to get Danny turned around so that his boyfriend wasn’t buried face first into his pecs before his family invaded.

It seemed like everyone was really trying to listen to Leslie and they all filed in orderly and tucked themselves onto the couch and chairs and each other. Bruce and Alfred stayed standing.

“Hi guys,” Danny said with a wobbly smile.

Some of the family flinched at how ruined Danny’s voice sounded. The flinches weren’t obvious to be noticed by anyone by a Bat, except maybe for Duke’s, but they still happened and Jason noticed. They all looked wrecked, really, in various ways. One would almost think they had been the ones kidnapped and murdered tonight.

It was Jason’s turn to flinch at his own thoughts. Greedily, he soothed himself by pressing a kiss to Danny’s temple.

“Hi Danny,” Duke said back. “How are you?”

“You know, feeling a little extra crispy,” he joked.

The room seemed to lose all the air for a moment before Tim groaned. “God, there are two of them now. No wonder you’re dating Jason, you have the same morbid sense of humor.”

The tension in the room broke and Barbie even laughed. (They all ignored how the laugh was a little too tinged with hysteria to be truly happy.)

Alfred cleared his throat and stepped forward. “The case, Master Jason.”

“Ooh, is that…” Danny asked, zeroing in on the case.

“Yep,” Jason confirmed, popping the ‘p’.

Danny held out his arms, making grabby hands at the case. Alfred raised a brow, looking to Jason for permission, before he moved forward and handed over the case. Jason rested his hand on the lid before Danny could open it.

“So,” Jason started. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “no one freak out, okay? What’s in the case isn’t what it looks like. And… and we’ll explain?”

He wasn’t sure if they would.

He wasn’t sure if they could afford not to.

“We’ll explain,” Danny confirmed.

“Okay, Jay-lad,” Bruce agreed, though Jason could tell he didn’t know what he was agreeing to, other than trusting his son.

Jason took a breath and removed his hand. Danny flipped the lid open. It was innocuous at first, a simple black padded case. Then Danny plucked out one of the glowing, Lazarus green ectoshots and the stances of several Bats shifted.

“That is—” Damian started.

“Nope,” Jason interrupted.

“Jay—” Bruce rumbled.

“I’m sure,” Jason said. He glanced at Cass. “Really.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Tim asked, sounding a little strangled.

“Drink it,” Danny answered.

“Drink it?!”

Danny’s nose wrinkled. “Does everyone in this room have issues with that— what did you call it— Pit water?”

“Pit water or Lazarus water,” Jason said. He calmly ran his fingers through Danny’s hair as he made sure to not have a reaction to the ectoshots. Danny needed to drink them, he couldn’t have any of it spilled from misplaced panic. “And a lot of us, yeah. It’s… been a thing. My situation didn’t help any.”

Tim frowned at the vial, clearly itching to get his hands on it. “If that’s not Lazarus water, what is it?”

“Ectoplasm,” Danny sing songed and then just downed the vial to the wince of the room. A shudder ran through his body before he slumped bonelessly against Jason.

Jason plucked the empty vial from Danny’s limp fingers, pressed a kiss to his temple, and put it back in the case. “From best we can think without getting our hands on Lazarus water, they’re a bit related, but ectoplasm is a pure source where as whatever Lazarus water is, it’s fucked up. Beyond that, I think…”

Jason sighed and buried his face in the top of Danny’s head. He didn’t know how to explain the next part to his family. He didn’t know how to tell them he was still, at least a little, dead. He didn’t want to hurt them like that.

“Ectoplasm isn’t a miracle cure, not like it sounds they use Lazarus water for,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. “Doesn’t work for normal people.”

“Does it work for you because you’re a meta?” Duke asked. The sympathy in his voice was hard to hear.

Danny’s laugh wasn’t any easier to hear. “Nope! I mean, like, sure how you count Superman as a meta I’m a meta, I guess. More a different species.”

Steph made an incredulous noise. “You’re an alien?”

“I wish,” Danny snickered. “I’m dead.”

“That is not funny, Nightingale,” Damian snapped.

Jason peered up at his bristling little brother. Demon brat really was already attached to Danny. “He’s not trying to be funny, Dami. Danny is half dead or, rather, half ghost.”

“Okay, which of your parents fucked a ghost?”

“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chastised.

“Sorry Alfie,” Stephanie mumbled under Danny’s snickering.

At least having almost died (again) tonight saved Danny from being admonished too.

“Ancient, no, my parents hate ghosts,” Danny said.

“But you’re half ghost,” Babs pointed out, gently.

“Yeah. And there’s a reason that I changed my last name and don’t talk to them anymore, not that they know,” Danny said. He stretched out his arms, arching like a cat. Clearly the ectoshot was starting to have an effect. “No, I’m half dead ‘cause I died and then didn’t.”

“You’ve died before, Danny?” Bruce asked, voice carefully gentle in that way he used only when talking to his kids or those who were basically family through his kids.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “It was, um, don’t like talking about it. It’s a ghost thing. But my parents built a portal to the ghost’s realm to try and study them. It didn’t work, not at first. I stepped in it, tripped, hit the on button and bam… ten thousand volts of electricity later and I’m dead.”

Tim and Cass both reached out to stop Steph from moving.

“Thing is, the portal turned on,” Danny continued. “So I also got pure ectoplasm shot right through me. It brought me back, kinda. I’m a halfa; half ghost and half human. Half dead and half alive.”

“You’ve died by electricity before,” Bruce said into the silence of the room.

“Probably died again to it tonight,” Danny said with a casualness that had Jason tightening his arms around Danny. Danny just giggled. “But like I told Dick, I’m immune now.”

“You know,” Barbie said. She narrowed her eyes as Danny shrugged before she glanced to Dick. “And you knew.”

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Little wing?”

“Go ahead, Dick. I’m pretty sure you’ve connected all the dots now,” Jason said. Maybe it would be easier, no, smoother if Dick explained it. He was better at hiding his anger.

Though by the way Dick had to shift on his feet, maybe not. “I… I think I have. Then you’re…?”

Jason nodded.

“Fuck!” Dick twisted and paced to the door and back again.

“Master Richard!”

“Don’t be so harsh, Alfie,” Jason said. He couldn’t make Dick be the one to tell them; that had been a selfish hope. “Dick just put two and two together that if the ectoshots only help Danny because he’s dead—”

“Part dead,” Danny chimed in brightly.

“—then that means I’m still part dead too.”

“Jay-lad?” Bruce prompted after a tense moment, voice rough.

Jason just smiled sadly. “The Pits healed me. It sorta… filled in the cracks, but it couldn’t fix that whatever brought me back didn’t bring all of me back… or couldn’t bring all of me back. I think that’s part of why the Pits had such a hold on me. Not that it’s an excuse, but just… whatever. Point is, I’m a halfa too, even if I’m still healing enough to be a proper one.”

The family practically curled around each other in grief. Dick tucked Damian against his side. Tim slumped into Steph and Cass. Steph reached out to squeeze Bab’s hand. Bruce took an aborted step towards them. Even Alfred raised a hand to his mouth.

“I’m alright,” Jason assured them.

“You’re still dead!” Dick snapped.

“I’m half alive, that’s more than I was before,” Jason pointed out.

Dick hunched into himself at that, prompting Damian to give Dick an awkward looking hug.

“What all does that mean, being a halfa?” Bruce asked. He held up a hand as he paused and took a measured breath. “I don’t mean that as an interrogation. Right now, what’s important for us to know to make sure you’re both healthy? Or is there anything that we should avoid doing?”

Jason snorted. He appreciated the clarification, the attempt at being gentle, he did, but, “I know you want to know more than that.”

Bruce smiled, though the expression was more mocking himself than anything. “Of course I do. You know me, chum, I don’t do good with only pieces of information, but right now I’m not the important one. I can deal with some… unease so that we can focus on you and Danny.”

“Danny should drink at least another ectoshot in a bit. They help us heal as halfas. Dick knows because there was an incident where I got stabbed. Danny sensed my distress and showed up to give me an ectoshot. I had called Dick already. Which means Danny also knows about everything.”

“Danny sensed your distress?” Tim asked.

“It’s a ghost thing,” Jason said with a shrug, unsure how to really explain it. “It comes from ghosts having cores which are sort of their central organ.”

“You core?” Cass asked, clearly struggling to verbalize right then with how her nose wrinkled.

“I do. Or, I’m getting more of one. Because the Pits put me back together badly I was really messed up.”

“It’s coming in well,” Danny said sleepily. He yawned wildly (a little too widely) and turned to bury his face into Jason’s chest. “Pretty lava core too. It’s good to have close for healing. It’s warm and lovely.”

Jason snorted and kissed the top of Danny’s head. “Go to sleep if you can. You’ll need lots of rest.”

Danny huffed a mumbled protest, but Jason could tell that Danny was fading fast.

“We’ll talk more later, Jay-lad,” Bruce said as he finally let himself come close to help Danny and Jason better settle into the hospital bed to sleep.

“Yeah,” Jason said as he fought his own yawn as the head of the bed lowered. “Have to have Danny show you his ghost form, it’s really something.”

Tim echoed ‘ghost form’ quietly in the background as Alfred murmured something to the group.

“Do you want myself or Dick here for the first shift?” Bruce asked.

“Stay?” Jason asked. His eyes dropped closed as his dad ran a hand through his hair.

“Always.”

---

AN: a very tired taaaaaada. They got the bulk of the explanation! Though still things to learn and talk about. I was going to put in more bits, but this felt full the way it was! Next chapter more answers, more questions, and someone shows up.

I no longer tag people but you can subscribe on the masterpost.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

Text

Twisted Wonderland Characters Signing Your Shirt

So when I was in primary school, on the very last day of term, the year 6 leavers would sign each other's white school polo shirts with felt tips as a sort of parting gift before we all went our separate ways to secondary school. I thought it might be cool if the reader shared this tradition with her friends at NRC.

Warning: I write reader as female

I literally had no idea what to write for bat grandpa and Silver so I just didn’t write them. In return, I’ll add snippets of Trein, Crewel, Vargas and Sam

Word Count: 8k+

Masterlist

Despite the comfort you felt with your friends in Twisted Wonderland and the obvious collective effort that your fellow students showed in making you feel at home in this strange new world, sometimes it did strike you just how different your current abode was - well, barring the universal use of magic that was so common that even infants were capable of it, of course. Such instances when your geographical displacement was most apparent was when you were reminded that there seemed to be little to no shared holidays between your world and this. For example, whilst Halloween did exist here, the concept of Christmas, Easter and Valentine’s Day didn’t - and neither did Mother’s or Father’s Day or even the smaller holidays like International Best Friends’ Day. It made you wonder if this world had any holidays or traditions that yours didn’t. This exact conversation starter was how you found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of Ramshackle with your fellow first year friends as you all discussed different traditions that you’ve all partaken in (when in fact you were supposed to be using this timeframe to be studying for an upcoming assessment).

“You know,” you mused out loud, “my primary school had this tradition where on the very last day, all of the leavers would sign each others’ shirts.”

“Really?” Deuce looked at you with sparkling wide eyes, and leaned forward slightly, as if he was hanging onto every word you said and was careful that he would miss a single syllable that came out of your mouth despite sitting less than two feet away from you.

“Yep. It was basically as a parting momentum we’d give each other to show our support even if we are parting ways and may never see each other again. I still have mine hanging in my wardrobe at home. By the end of the day, it was covered in so many felt tip marks that it was more colourful than white,” you gave a nostalgic smile at the memory of your eleven year old self being surrounded by your laughing and tearful classmates as they decorated each other’s polo shirts (and even some a lot of skin) with well wishes, signatures and drawings that were partly sweet, partly adoringly offensive and partly completely random and out there that you had no idea of what to make of them. It did make you wonder how they were currently doing and then it hit you - you had no way of knowing. Atleast back home, whenever you found yourself revisiting your younger years, you had the ability of picking up your phone and finding out for yourself. But here - here in this world where your friends and family didn’t exist, where your life had about as much substance as a black hole until that fateful day you appeared in front of that dark mirror - you had absolutely no way of connecting to anyone you once knew. You didn’t even have any pictures or mementos from your world to remind yourself that they were even real to begin with. How long would you be able to cling on to your memories and -

“Y/N,” Jack's voice pierced through the blurry memories as sharply and swiftly as Rook’s arrow, shattering every thought like glass and every fragment of them fell and dissolved into nothing until you found yourself out of your head and sitting in your dorm’s living room floor with Grim on your lap and your friends nearby. His face contorted with concern the second he noticed your smile going from fond to bittersweet, “are you okay?”

Were you?

“I-”

“Why don’t we do that?” Epel blurted out.

You looked at him in confusion as Jack and Deuce glared at him for his interruption (but, honestly, you were very grateful for that), tilting your head to the side, “huh?”

“The-the shirt signing thing. I never did it when I left elementary. It sounds like fun?” he looked at the other boys, “whatdya fellas think?”

“I’m in,” Ace stretched out his arms.

“Me too,” Deuce said immediately after, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’ll-I’ll join in as well,” Jack stuttered out, “just ‘cause you guys are. Not-not because it sounds fun or anything, alright.”

“Hmm,” Sebek scoffed, crossing his arms and looking down on the rest of the group with an expression that says ‘I’m very much interested but I’m not going to say that because I’m a tsundere who pledges allegiance to my large commissioned portrait of Waka-sama every morning’, “I suppose these human customs seem adequate enough for me to partake in them. If at least to ensure that you do not tread on a path that could cause a disturbance to Lord Malleus, as is my duty as his knight.”

Ace rolled his eyes, “sure, pal.”

“Everyone wait,” Grim yelled out, “I should go first. As Y/N is my minion, she should receive the honour of getting The Great Grim’s mark first.”

When Ace and Deuce looked like they were about to argue, you silenced them with an, “alright, Grim, you can go first.”

GRIM

Since he’s so small, he couldn’t really reach that high, even though you were sitting down

He signed ‘to my favourite minion, from the great grim. P.S buy me more tuna’ at the bottom of your shirt near the hem of your shirt

He added a little simple drawing of a fish and a doodle of a small tin of tuna next to his words

Since he didn’t wear any clothes, you signed your own name with a cute little heart on the dangly end of the ribbon that made up the bow around his neck.

ACE TRAPPOLA

He and Deuce played rock, paper, scissors to decide who should go next

He had to be reminded by everyone not to write anything too big

“That means that I can barely write anything. You’re so short and small that half a sentence would take up half of your shirt,” he snarks with a teasing grin.

Deuce hit him over the head with an unimpressed look for that one

Good boy, Deuce

He uses one of his red pens to sign ‘your best friend and favourite person in the whole world who you like more than Deuce, Ace Trappola’ with a smiley face and a doodle of the ace of hearts card under under your collar, near your chest area before surveying his masterpiece and looking up at you with a smug wink

Deuce, hit him again

You signed your own name on his collar with a heart next to it

“A heart?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, “are you trying to tell me something, prefect?”

DEUCE!

DEUCE SPADE

Baby boy is so scared

He’s so worried that he’ll ruin your shirt with something you won’t like that his hands are shaking

Protect him

After you reassure him that you’ll love whatever he does (Ace: not as much as mine, though 😏) he nods, eyes burning with determination as he braves himself and picks up a dark blue biro

He slowly and steadily writes out, in his neatest handwriting ‘you’re my best friend and I can’t imagine NRC without you. You always make me happy, Deuce Spade” with a little coloured-in spade doodle next to his name on the stomach part of your shirt (because the mere notion of idea of going any higher made his head spin and face burn)

The entire time he was diligently writing, he was looking at his handiwork with the most concentrated expression you had seen, with his eyebrows furrowed with great attention and care whilst his tongue stuck out slightly from between his teeth

He does know that this is supposed to be a fun little activity, right? He knows that he’s not signing his last will and testament (of course he does. In his mind, this was way more important)

“That’s great, Deuce. I love it.” you smiled softly at him when he finished

He perks up at the praise before blushing and looked down, his pink face conveying how bashfully pleased he was that he didn’t mess up

He’s so going to tell his mother about this during their nightly phone calls

“Thank you, Y/N,” he shyly smiles back at you

You place your own signature on his shirt as he looks on at you with still pink cheeks

You beam at him after punctuating your name with a small little hear

“You didn’t say anything about miiinnee ~”

FOR GOD’S SAKE, ACE-

JACK HOWL

No, his tail is most definitely not wagging in excitement when he approaches you with a gel pen in hand so shut up

No one said a word, wolfy

Writes a swift ‘keep up the good work. Jack Howl’

A simple wolf, our Jack is

Please ignore the red blossoming along his cheeks and nose and the still wagging tail as he doodles a little cactus next to his name

You give him a smile as you sign your own name on his shirt and add a little smiley face next to it

You can still see some red peeking out from under his hand as he covers the lower half of his face with his palm, his tail wagging like crazy

You swear that you can hear a faint little “thank you”

EPEL FELMIER

“Hell, yeah! Move aside, losers, it’s my turn!”

*coughs and clears throat* “ahem, I mean - it’s my turn to sign your shirt, prefect.”

Uses his dark purple gel pen to sign his name and draws an apple next to it

Pretends that he isn’t elated to see your name on his shirt

Is planning to proudly wear that shirt to Vil’s etiquette lessons, propriety be damned

Is also whooping and punching the air the second he’s out of sight

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

He strides towards you all stiff and square-shouldered

Signs ‘Sebek Zigvolt, loyal knight and retainer of His Glorious Majesty Lord Malleus, the beloved and awe-inspiring fae prince of the noble kingdom of Briar Valley. It is he who I pledge my eternal loyalty and allegiance to and it is my greatest honour to die in his name.”

You had to stop him from writing a whole essay on your shirt (complete with book references) about the might of the esteemed prince who you once found sulking in the woods because Lilia ate all of his ice cream during a Call of Duty session with Idia

He loudly explains to you that it is of poor taste to allow a human to sully the uniform of the great Waka-sama’s dorm as it is unheard of for a knight to appear as anything less of perfection as his attire reflects the power of his future king-

Uh, alright crocodile boy but why are you leaning closer to me?

You sign your name really small on his shirt so that it’s not immediately visible and only those who know where it is find it.

He doesn’t know why his heart is beating much faster at the sight of this magicless human’s name. Clearly he has contracted an illness. Quick, he must go to Lilia at once and remedy the issue lest Lord Malleus finds out.

CATER DIAMOND

Once you bid your friends farewell, you, Grim, Ace and Deuce, make your way to Heartslabyul for that afternoon’s unbirthday party

The students were still setting up the tables and food in the rose garden so the dorm leader and vice dorm leader weren’t present

Cater senses the four of you approaching as he finishes painting the last of the roses red and his eyes immediately dart to your shirt

“Hey, Y/N-chan. What’s with the get-up?”

You explain how it’s a tradition in your world to sign each other’s shirts and how your friends wanted to do it for themselves

“Aww, no fair,” he pouts at you, “Cay-kun wants to join in on the fun too.”

You offer him a pen, “you’re more than welcome to add your signature, Cater-senpai.”

He grins at you and writes a funky ‘Cater Diamond’ with doodles of the cartoony smiling four diamonds on his phone case on your shirt. Underneath his name he adds his magicam and other social media usernames.

“Well, Y/N-chan?” he sing-songs, twirling the pen around with his index and middle fingers the same way a drummer would a drumstick, “what do you think?”

“I love it, Cater-senpai,” you reply happily

He joyfully pats your head, “anything for my favourite underclassman”

Ace and Deuce: we’re here too, you know 🧍🧍

“Now smile for the camera,” he chirps, holding out his phone to take a selfie of him gesturing towards the area of your shirt with his name on it

After you quickly jot down your own name on his collar before running off to help with the party preparations, he takes a selfie of himself and then spends a bit more time gazing upon your smiling face on his screen before making a post

#HangingOutWithMyFavouriteUnderclassmen #ShesTheBest #WhenACuteGirlAsksYouToSignSomethingYouSignIt #SheLooksReallyPrettyWithMyNameOnHerThough #ImNeverWashingThisShirtAgain

TREY CLOVER

Comes out before Riddle to make sure that everything is set

And to see if you’re Ace and Deuce are here

Immediately notices the shirt and wants in on it

Uses one of his edible pens that he just happens to be carrying to write his name with a cupcake and clover drawn next to it

“Here you go, Y/N,” he says as he gives you the ‘I’m the responsible and reliable senpai even though you and I both very well know that I am capable of causing the most chaos here’ smile

Pats your head after you return the favour

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

You’re the first thing Riddle notices the moment he enters

Has to take a second to gather his bearings when he sees you smiling when you notice his arrival

At this point he’s gotten used to the teasing smile Cater shoots him when he’s in your proximity but that doesn’t mean he has to DO IT EVERY TIME HE’S GOT A REPUTATION

In Riddle’s head: Y/N’s here 😊 I must greet her with the grace every gentleman must have when they meet a lovely lady like her. Perhaps I should point out how wonderful it is for her to join us. Or personally escort her to a seat as I comment on how happy her presence here has made me.

What Riddle says: What has happened to your shirt 🤨

Don’t worry, Riddle. You tried your best

You apologetically tell him how it’s your fault since Ace and Deuce were trying to cheer you up and then Cater and Trey wanted to join them so you’ll take full responsibility if they broke any rules

“Well,” Riddle states primly, “there’s no rule forbidding it but bear in mind that I shall not accept you making a habit of unkempt attire. As Heartslabyul students and prefects both you and them are expected to possess a certain standard of decorum.”

“Does that decorum include personally fixing the prefect's tie in the middle of a busy public corridor in broad daylight?” Ace asks innocently

Riddle shoots him a sharp glare as he puffs up with anger

Before he can open his mouth, Trey swoops in to save Ace’s neck and Riddle’s vocal chords as he suggests that the unbirthday party should commence and then tells Cater to stop filming and put his phone down

The entire time you swear that you can feel someone gazing at you when you aren’t watching but every time to turn to look in Riddle’s direction, you notice that he’s looking elsewhere whilst Cater and Trey give each other knowing looks

When everyone has finished cleaning up afterwards, Riddle catches you and Grim on your way back and politely asks you if you could join him in the common room

You agree and set Grim down so he can trouble Ace and Deuce

When you get there he stiffly stammers something about wanting to know more about the shirt situation

How someone can be both poised and shy you have no idea but it’s adorably endearing

After you explained how it’s something friends do back in your world, he gets this contemplative look on his face as he looks down and twiddles his fingers before shyly asking if it would be alright if you permitted him to sign your shirt as well

Once you give an enthusiastic reply he gets out one of his fancy rich boy fountain pens and elegantly signs his name somewhere near your shoulder blades, his face burning the entire time

“If it’s alright with you, I could do the same back,” you offered, “I signed everyone else’s shirts but since you’re the dorm leader, I’d understand that it would be improper for me to-”

“No!” he blurts out, startling both you and himself. The red hue on his face gets even darker once he realised what he had just done and clears his throat before continuing in a tone that is much more controlled yet still a tad shaky, “no, I-I’d be honoured if you wanted to do so.”

So you take the pen he offered you from his outstretched hand and sign your name on his collar like you did the others

“Well, I’ll see you soon, Riddle-senpai. I hope you take care,” you smile at him before bowing your head slightly and walking out of the room to rescue Heartslabyul from whatever Grim had done

Riddle stared at the doorway from which you left from for a considerable amount of time before looking down at the hand where your fingers grazed his when you reached for the pen

He smiled slightly before shaking his head and composing himself. Then he marched out to supervise his dormmates

RUGGIE BUCCHI

This sneaky little hyena catches you during one of his errands

He finds you on his way to deliver lunch to a certain lazy lion

Was about to pawn off the job to you but catches the names on your shirt before he hears a lightbulb go off in his head

“Shi shi shi. It seems like our prefect has been busy.”

Without even asking for an explanation, he asks if he could sign it

Throws in some hopeful puppy eyes to ensure you say yes

You don’t need to do that Ruggie. To quote my non-twst friend when I showed hyena boy’s picture to her: I would commit arson for you

Honestly he’s only doing this 60% because he wants to and 40% because he knows that it would annoy Leona

You hand him the pen you have been carrying and he scribbles on his name with a picture of a sprinkle covered doughnut next to it

He then asks you to do the same to him

You comply, noticing how his tails wags excitedly behind him

You then offer to bring Leona his lunch to give him a break, which he hastily agreed to

After you leave he wonders if he could sell this shirt to one of your simps before immediately scrapping that idea since he decides it’s not worth it this time

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It took you a while to shake him ‘awake’

I say ‘awake’ in inverted commas because the second he hears footsteps in the botanic garden his ears perk up and he tries to determine if the scent from the incoming person is yours. If it is, he’s wide awake

But he’s also a jerk so he’s not going to make this easy for you

He’s internally smirking whenever he hears you’re irritated little huffs as you try to wake him up

The he considers that he should maybe throw you a bone so he opens his eyes only to see the names of your first year friends , those uptight Heartslabyul students and his own second in command on you

Something about that does not sit right with him and he has to fight back a possessive growl

At least he can’t see the names of that stuck up beauty queen and - god forbid - that stupid lizard

“You some to have something on you, Herbivore,” he drawls as he lazily flicks his eyes towards your face

Like you did to everyone else, to explain how it’s a thing in your world to sign your classmates’ shirts

At this he gets up, whilst maintaining eye contact, and takes one stride so that he’s right in front of you

Excuse me sir, we like to respect personal space here

Unless you’re a Twisted Wonderland character then no we don’t

“Does that mean you marked other people with your name?” he asks you with a tone that you can’t quite put your finger on but can definitely tell has hints of annoyance

You just look at him in silence, completely off guard by his proximity and out of the blue question

“Well?” he leans down closer to you

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess”

He just hums in reply before holding out his palm

You just look down at it before giving him a perplexed look

“Pen,” he says, “now.”

You place your pen in his hand before he immediately crouches down and writes ‘LEONA KINGSCHOLAR’ in block letters that seemed to be a bit larger than everyone else’s names

He holds out your pen, “your turn.”

“Oh, okay”

The minute you finish writing your name you he stands back up at his full height, green eyes gleaming with mirth

“You know, Herbivore,” he holds up your chin so you get a full view of his smirking face, “I can think of plenty of other ways I could mark my territory if you're ever up for it.”

He gives your head a pat, remarking “you know where to find me” before yawning and sauntering off to god knows where with one hand in the front pocket of his trousers and his tail swinging lazily behind him

…

You just blink at his retreating figure in confusion

“Oookaayy,” you drone out to yourself and then you make your way out of Savanaclaw as Grim mutters something about weird predators

JADE AND FLOYD LEECH

“KOEBI-CHAN! :D”

Oh dear, it seems as if Floyd has found you for his daily accosting

You know that there is no way you can run from an eel so you just brace yourself with closed eyes as you hear the grunts, groans and shouts of several students being pushed out of the way as Floyd makes his way towards you for his completely necessary squeezing the life out of you hugging session

You open your eyes the second you feel those arms glomp you as you give the eel twin a smile, “hello, Floyd-senpai.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jade casually strolling along the path that his brother had cleared with a pleasant smile on his face, completely ignoring the still groaning students on the corridor’s floor

“Good afternoon, dear prefect,” he greets you politely as you feel Floyds arms wrap tighter around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I see that you’ve run into quite a few students on your way here - if your shirt is anything to go by.”

“Huh,” Floyd lets go of you and notices Riddle’s name at the back of your shirt. He then turns you around to inspect the front of your shirt only to be met with the names of all of these bottom feeders

“Hey,” he pouts at you accusingly, crossing his arms in displeasure, “how come koebi-chan let goldfish and crabby and sea lion and all these other fish write all over her and not us. I wanna write on koebi-chan too.”

Jade gave a fond sigh at his brother’s whining before turning to you with a gentlemanly smile that barely concealed the grin of a predator, “I must say, dear prefect, I’ve got to agree with my brother here. It does seem very unfair for you to allow others to enjoy this event and not us. I feel rather hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd nods, “koebi-chan should let us write on her.”

“And what luck,” Jade piped up, taking a pen out of his pocket (though you had the strange suspicion that it was used less for writing and more for some weird torture technique that he and his brother liked to dish out), “it appears that I have a pen in my possession. Now, you will allow us to do so, right prefect?”

You knew for a fact that even if your brain decided to take a holiday and leave you to enter the boundless void of nothingness that inhabited your mental stability you would not even think to refuse him

“Alright then,” you said slowly and both of their faces lit up

“Me first, me first,” Floyd gleefully snatched the pen from his twin’s hand and bounded over to you, writing his name in big bold letters on your right sleeve. Underneath it he drew a picture of his eel form and a cartoony shrimp with arrows pointing towards both figures saying ‘ME!! :)’ AND “SHRIMPY!”

Jade then took the pen from his brother and wrote his own name on your left sleeve with a drawing of an anatomy correct shiitake mushroom under it. He then labeled different the different structures with their biologically correct scientific names

“Now write on us,” Floyd demanded, so you took Jade’s pen and did just that.

After he pocketed his pen, he turned to the other eel with a mischievous grin, “You know, Floyd. I believe Azul would love to see our dear prefect. What do you think?”

Floyd matched his brother’s expression with an even more unhinged one of his own, “yes, yes. Let’s go.”

And with that, the both of them each take a firm hold of each one of your shoulders and began to stir you to the Mostro Lounge, paying no attention to Grim, who was yelling at them about how it was his lunch time

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Due to spending almost his entire life with the Leech twins, Azul was fairly accustomed to their antics - which was why he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed to the sound of the door to the VIP room slamming against the wall and Floyd’s cheerful voice loudly exclaiming “WE’RE HERE”.

He just sighed and continued to finish the sentence he was writing before looking up to greet him when he did a double take when he sway you’re slightly embarrassed self give a small smile and wave from where Floyd had you rooted with the way his arm rested over your shoulders

“Ah yes, Floyd what is-PREFECT??!!”

No his voice did not crack at the end, thank you very much

Jade gracefully stepped into the room, “Azul, Floyd and I were just admiring the prefect’s shirt and thought that you would appreciate it if we brought her here to show you ourselves.”

“Yes, what Jade said,'' Floyd nodded happily, “Jade and I both wrote our names on koebi-chan as well, see. And she wrote on us. Isn’t that great?”

Despite clearing his throat, Azul’s voice still was choked when he let out a surprised, “yes, that does look rather nice.”

The four of you spent the next minute standing in awkward silence. The eels were directing their shark-like grins on a red and embarrassed-looking Azul who seemed to look completely stumped and you just stood there having no idea what to do

“Well,” you started when the silence got too much, “I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this Azul-senpai and interrupting your work. It seems like you are really busy in the middle of something important so I’ll just head back and-”

“Wait, prefect,” Azul pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way towards you with a pen in hand, “If-if you would allow me, I would love to add my name onto your shirt.”

“Go right ahead,” you reply

Now he’s written his name hundreds of times, with the business that he runs, but for some reason him signing his name directly onto the clothing that your wearing has his heart leaping and twisting in ways that he’s never felt before

He’s lying. He’s felt that many, many times before and strangely every instance has occurred in your presence

Once he’s finished he gives you a look that very clearly expresses that he wants to ask you something

“I could sign your shirt as well if that’s okay?” you half offered half asked, thinking you might know what he wanted

He gives you a shocked look, a rosy hue painting his nose and cheeks, before clearing his throat once more

“I can’t say that I would mind terribly if you did that. Of course,” he gives you his signature businessman octopus grin, “if you would much rather sign your name on a contract, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, no thank you,” you deadpan. You turn around, “if that’s it then-”

“Wait,” he grabs ahold of your wrist, “actually prefect, I would very much like that.”

Your face softens and you sign your name onto his collar and left the fish mafia to practice their Godfather impressions or whatever they did behind closed doors when they weren’t dealing with the poor unfortunate souls of NRC

Unbeknownst to you, Azul immediately changed out of that shirt and kept it next to his third draft of that marriage contract he had been preparing

KALIM AL-ASIM

It was after you left Octavinelle when you remembered that Kalim had invited you to a party at Scarabia so off to his dorm you went

Almost ten seconds after you enter, you hear a shout of “Y/N!” coming from above you

“God?” you mutter under your breath as you look up and find the resident sunshine boy of the campus beaming down at you from his magic carpet

You happily give them both a joyful and hearty wave, “HI KALIM-SENPAI! HI CARPET!”

The two of them descend towards you. Kalim jumps off when it reaches a few centimetres above the ground before tackling you into a hug that was filled with unbridled merriment. Carpet, feeling lonely, latched onto the both of you as well, wrapping its tassels around the two of you and squeezed in its own version of a hug.

The two of you laughed at its enthusiasm until it let go and Kalim pulled back

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here,” his smile filled with pure sunshine never once left nor faltered as he looked at you with all of the joy in the world, “you’re going to love it. Everyone’s dancing and Jamil made kunafah which is really really tasty and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it and we can go for a magic carpet ride as well and - woah, your shirt looks so cool!”

You giggle at his amazement, “thank you, Kalim-senpai. In my home world, it’s a tradition to sign your classmates’ shirts when you leave school so

“Wait, you’re not leaving are you?” he gives you the saddest tearful golden retriever puppy-eyed look you had ever seen and you instantly hated yourself for being the monster that caused it, “please say you’re not. We haven’t even done half of the things I wanted to do with you. Please don’t say you’re going.”

“No, no, no,” you wave your hand erratically to show that you were most certainly not leaving, “I swear that I’m not going anywhere, Kalim-senpai. I just mentioned that to everyone and they wanted to sign my shirt for fun, that’s all. I’m staying right here, pinky promise.”

Of course, you had no way of leaving this world, what with the headmaster being a lazy idiot who makes empty promises but you didn’t say a word about that part

Kalim smiled and intertwined his pinky with your outstretched one

(Meanwhile carpet sulked because he wanted to join in on the pinky promise but he had no pinkies to promise with)

“So,” he gives you a hopeful look, “does that mean that I can sign as well?”

“Of course you can,” you smile at him.

He beams back at you, holds your hand and scampers towards his room

After bringing you inside, he rummages through his drawers until he procures some limited edition ultra deluxe sparkly golden sharpie pen that you know costs like enough to feed you for a week

He skips back towards you and signs ‘KALIM!’ all big and glittery on your back with a bunch of stars and hearts surrounding it and a smiley face to dot the exclamation mark

He then giddily hands you the pen and asks you to sign his clothes as well

You hesitate because there is no way that you are going to stain a piece of clothing that has enough zeros in its price to pay for your entire neighbourhood back home

But his hopeful/pleading face was too much for you to refuse so you did as you were asked

He now wants to buy an entire store’s worth of clothes just so that the two of you could write your names all over them

He also is so happy that he wants throw another party in your honour and hopefully make an event of having the two of you sign each others clothes

Not going to lie, he’ll probably commission the best painters in the Scalding Sands to make a giant portrait of his shirt so that he can hang it up in his rooms (no that’s not a typo) and show it to his parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, his pet elephants, his pet peacocks, that tiger he was going to ask for his birthday…

He just wants to keep the memory of this moment forever

“Woah, Y/N, that looks great! Hey, I have a bunch of other clothes in my wardrobe that you can sign, I’ll go get them-”

You had to stop him before he did something that would make Jamil pop a blood vessel or consider alcoholism (again) so you asked him if he could take you to where Jamil was

Thankfully, he agreed and happily lead you to the kitchens

JAMIL VIPER

Jamil had no idea what to feel when Kalim barged into the kitchens

On the one hand, the Scarabia kitchens were his safe haven, the one place where he could be alone without his airheaded master coming in to cause further trouble due to the fact that Kalim is forbidden from stepping foot in it so his annoyance at seeing that bright face in here was more than welcome

On the other hand, however, Kalim had brought you along. The diamond among the soiled charcoal that were his peers, the coolness of his eyes that never failed to put him at ease no matter how unreasonable Kalim’s never ending laundry list of problems became so he did admit that he felt much more relieved when he saw your smiling face pop in to say hello in that enchantingly sweet lilt

But then Kalim dragged you in and showed off all of the names that had been written on your shirt for that bitter python of annoyance that he keeps chained and shackled in his gut to start coiling around in displeasure - only for it to start hissing and biting at his stomach when Kalim happily pointed out his own name standing out on your back and your name on his shirt, it’s teeth sinking into every vein it can find and contaminating his bloodstream with that pungent envy

On the outside, he regarded all of this with the same cool and unwavering expression he usually wore but on the inside he was raging at how happily you wore everyone’s names - how you wore Kalim’s name - whilst casting him to the shadows.

He simply reminded Kalim that he was not allowed in the kitchens and he had a party to host so it was best for him to leave

Kalim turned to you and was about to ask you to come with him when you told him that you’ll stay and help Jamil and you promise to dance with him later

“Alright then Y/N, see you later,” and then he skipped away, a cloud of sparkles and flowers following him

You approached Jamil, who appeared to be a bit more tense than usual and placed your hand on his shoulder

He immediately stopped, took a breath and turned to you

“You know,” you smiled at him, “I didn’t just come here to help you cook, though I would very much like to.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “is that so, prefect? Then pray tell, why did you come here.”

“Well, you see, all of my dear friends have decided to write their names on my shirt after I explained that it was a tradition where I’m from and now that I’m here, I realise that I’m one name short.”

“Is that true?” he mused, his lips twitching ever so slightly

You nodded with the gravitas of a judge giving a sentence, “yes, it is. And you see, Jamil-senpai, the person whose name that I’m talking about happens to be someone who would never go out of his way to do something that he thinks might not be wanted - even if the receiver would very much want it - so the idea of him offering his signature like everyone else seems to be out of the question.”

“What are you trying to say, prefect?” he sighed and put his head down so that he can hide his blush by pretending to rub his temples

“What I’m saying, Jamil-senpai, is that I would absolutely love it if you wrote your name on my shirt. It just doesn’t seem right without you and having you there would delight me to no end,” you reply, taking out the pen you’ve been carrying in your pocket and holding it out to him expectantly

‘How troublesome,’ he mentally sighs, though the thought was directed not towards you but to the pleasant feeling of warmth that enveloped him whenever you were near.

Regardless, he takes the pen and signs your shirt in a manner that appears to be annoyed and rushed but anyone can clearly see that the calligraphy of his name is definitely carefully thought out with strokes that look more like artwork than a teenage boy’s signature

“So, um,” you start, “you can say no if you’d like but would you like it if I signed yours back?”

He shrugged, “I see no reason why not?”

Don’t let his perpetually controlled voice fool you, he is internally punching the air and screaming with elation at the prospect to you placing your signature on him

Usually he would hate to have another's name anywhere near him. He was already cursed with the invisible shackles of the Al-Asim family, he didn’t want any other form of ownership to strip the miniscule amount of control he had in his life. However, the idea of him belonging to you only filled him with bliss instead of the accustomed disdain

‘Oh, prefect,’ he thought, internally smirking to himself as he continued with the preparations of Kalim’s feast with your assistance, ‘the next time you want me to leave my mark on you, I may not be as gentle.’

ROOK HUNT

You swear you take one step out of the mirror chamber and into the corridor before you find yourself face to face with Tamaki Suoh’s long lost cousin, who appeared out of frickin’ nowhere

“Petite mademoiselle trickster,” he cheers, “it has come to my attention that you are going around, letting the students write on your clothing and thus I must implore you to allow me the honour of joining them in this ceremonious ritual.”

Ritua - does he think that you’ve started a cult?!

Although, to be fair, that would be the least weirdest thing that’s happened in this school

You could’ve sworn you saw a bunch of Savanaclaw students standing in a circle and chanting so cultists are not completely out of line

And Crowley’s whole bird mask and making his students wear robes does seem very cult-y

Not to mention Sebek’s whole existence

Deciding to ignore the second part of Rook’s words (a standard procedure when it comes to students dealing with the huntsman) you hand him your pen

“Please allow me to write a sonnet so that I may pour out my awe at your splendorous beauty”

Yeah, you shut that one down hard

“Ah, I see. You’d much prefer a villanelle!”

No, Rook

A ballad or an Ode?

This is going to be another Sebek situation, isn’t it?

He did end up writing something

You must admit, you were impressed that he was able to conjure up a rhyming couplet dedicated to your beauty and general existence

In iambic pentameter no less

Now if only you could get him to stay still and quiet enough for you to write on your name

Great Seven, is he crying?

I’m flattered that there tears of joy but all I did was write my name on your shirt

I’m pretty sure my handwriting looked nicer on that contract that Leona turned to ash you really don’t need to praise the heavens for my existence

Oh good, Vil-senpai, you’re here

Your huntsman is broken

I know that he most probably came like this but it’s a bit unnerving

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil was strutting through the hallways like NRC was a pageant and his catwalk was going to be crowned as the winner when he noticed Rook singing (yes, actually singing) your praises to you whilst you just looked at him like most people do

“Rook,” he called sharply, his high heels clicking through the corridor and the back of his royal purple robe effortlessly flaring out behind him, “I have been looking all over for you.”

“Roi du Poison!” he called out, “I was just engaging in the most splendid tradition with Petite mademoiselle trickster!”

“Ah, yes, Epel mentioned this during his etiquette lesson,” he looked down at the piece of your shirt that he was pinching between his perfectly manicured index finger and thumb, “whilst I understand the sentiment, I cannot believe you would allow these undeserving potatoes to tarnish your appearance like this.”

He huffs and pulls out a pen from one of his own pockets, “thankfully, I come prepared for situations like these. Honestly, what would you do without me? Be grateful that I’m here to save you from these unruly spudlings.”

He then signs his name onto you with complete precision, most probably from his years of experience as a renowned actor

“Now it would be unfitting for me as the dorm leader of Pomefiore to walk amongst these halls with ink stains on my uniform but I have a suitable substitute for you to use so that the criteria for your traditions have been met,” and with that he pressed an apple scented soft handkerchief into your palms

“Well,” he looked at you expectantly, “aren’t you going to sign it?”

“Oh, um, yes,” and you wrote your name on this obviously very expensive piece of cloth

“Wonderful,” Vil gave you an approving smile and took his handkerchief back before briskly turning around and walking away, calling out for his vice, “Rook!”

“Coming Roi du Poison!”

ORTHO SHROUD

You made your way to Ignihyde for your regularly scheduled gaming/anime watching session with the otaku shut in of the school

But of course you couldn’t do that without saying hi to his younger brother because not greeting Ortho when you enter the dorm of the Lord of the Underworld is a crime worthy of death

“Big sister Y/N!'' is the first thing you hear when you step into Idia’s dorm. The adorable android with flaming blue hair greeted you with stone-melting giddiness, “my scanners informed me that you have arrived! That’s great news! Big brother has been waiting for you to join us all day! In fact, my sensors picked up that his heart rate increased by 15% everytime I or he mentioned you!”

You giggled and pet the little robot’s head, “that’s nice, Ortho. Say, would you like to sign my shirt? All of my other friends have written their names on it and I would be very happy if you did too.”

“Write my name on big sister’s shirt?” Ortho’s eyes widened and he clapped with glee, “yes, yes, I would love to. Please wait a moment.”

You watched with part surprise part wonder as Ortho’s right hand transformed into a tiny laser

“Big brother has downloaded and programmed over a thousand different fonts into my database. Is there a style that you prefer?”

“Um, not really, Ortho,” you reply, “why don’t you choose?”

“Alright then, I’ll apply a random generator to select one for us.”

After doing that he floated towards you and wrote Ortho Shroud onto your back

Well, it was less ‘wrote’ and more lasered ink in straight lines to create letters the same way a laser printer would shoot ink to create an image

“Thank you, Ortho, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at him, but then frowned, “though I don’t know if I can return the favour to you the same way I did to everyone else since you’re made of metal.”

“Hehe, it’s okay big sister,” he happily replies, “I’m sure big brother would be more than happy to have you write to him instead.”

IDIA SHROUD

Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING

If anyone were to ask what our resident technological genius was thinking about for last twenty minutes it would be that

You’d think that him knowing you for more than a few weeks, you rescuing him from his own overblot and learning his entire tragic anime backstory would prepare him for every time you come near him but Idia doesn’t work on the logic of normies

Can you blame him? You were like ultra SSR tier and he was so below you it wasn’t funny

Hey, at least he managed to beat that weird french blond guy with the bow and arrow in the fight over who got to be the leader of the Y/N fan club

So when you and his brother, his two favourite people in the world, come into the sanctuary of his room with blinding smiles his heart does a one hit k.o

And what’s worse is that his body pillow is all the way over there on the bed so he can’t even sink his face into it for the comfort of darkness

And then when Ortho comes and says that you want him to sign your shirt and then do the same to you?

Well, the pink that was forming at the tips of his hair has erupted his flaming locks into a bright pink fuschia

What kind of shoujo manga otome game special edition event is this

Okay, cool, Idia, cool

He takes one peek at you and then immediately covers his face with his palms as his hair grows pinker if that’s even possible

You tell him that you understand if he’s uncomfortable so it’s okay if he doesn’t want to do it

But, you see Y/N, he does

He would very much like to take part in this event

But his social stats are lower than the bottom of the ocean

And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to level up in the next two or three decades at least

Seeing his brother’s internal plight, Ortho huffs at him to just do it

So he does it

Because he wants to, alright - not-not because he’s being shamed by his little brother

So he picks up one of his pens with a miniature funko pop of his favourite anime character on it and hastily signs his name without even looking

Thankfully he signed on a free space on your back otherwise he would never show you his face again

You ask him if he wants you to do the same to him and he passes out

Sigh, Ortho activate the defibrillators

MALLEUS DRACONIA

You meet Tsunotarou after the sun has set on Twisted Wonderland and you invite him inside of Ramshackle so that the two of you can share some tea you’ve prepared before you can start your nightly walk in the woods

He politely questions you on the state of your dress and you laugh and tell him all about how you mentioned a tradition back in your home world to your friends and how that evolved into a sort of scavenger hunt for signatures

As delighted as he is that you seem to be enjoying yourself and as thankful as he is that you were able to surround yourself with people who lift your spirits and ease your homesickness, he couldn’t help but feel a dark cloud of dread invading his mind and questioning whether or not this was another occasion that he was not invited to

“Tsunotarou?” you speak up, and hold up the pen that had accompanied you throughout this whole ordeal, “would you like to sign your name as well.”

He gives you a pleasant smile as he takes a sip of his tea, “I suppose I could, Child of Man. But that begs the question.”

You tilt your head in confusion and he internally laughs at how endearing you look, “what question?”

“On how you would like me to sign,” he gives you a smug little grin, “names are very important to the fae, you see. They’re very powerful, as well. In fact, a human giving a fae their name without thinking is often considered an act of foolishness (ouch, you could sense that subtle dig at your initial meeting but, in your defence you were new to this world and the concept of fairies and magic in general, and you didn’t even know the guy). So I would need to ask you if you would rather have me sign as the crown prince, Malleus Draconia or as the Tsunotarou that you met wandering around in the woods near your abode?”

“Is there really a difference?” you pose a question of your own, “Tsunotarou is Malleus and Malleus is Tsunotarou. To me both are the same. I know the rumours of you being powerful aren’t unfounded - I mean, you fixed the entire VDC venue in a second and called it child’s play so I can only imagine how strong you are. But the thing is, when I look at you, I don’t really see some crown prince who can destroy an island in the blink of an eye. All I see is a friend that I enjoy being in the company of - even if he can be a bit odd at times.”

“Odd? How brave of you to describe the future king in such a way. I was right in stating that you have no fear,” he teased you, eyes twinkling with mirth, “very well, I shall accept your request.”

He signs his name on you with the grace and elegance you’d expect a prince would have

You feel a slightly electric tingle from where the pen touches your skin through the fabric of your shirt and you can’t help but wonder if he had cast some sort of enchantment where his name was.

Once he has completed he hands you your pen back and you smile back at him, “I trust you, Tsunotarou. Not just because you’re my friend but also because you were one of the few who truly made me feel welcome even before we even knew each other. Actually, I trust you so much that-

You beckon him towards you, causing him to lean closer towards you. You take the pen and sign your name right on the first patch of white that you can see and reach

-that I would give you my name a hundred times without even a second of hesitation.”

ALRIGHT, TEACHER SNIPPETS: The next day, you take the shirt that you had worn the previous day and carry it around in your hands around campus so that you could ask the teachers to sign their names

PROFESSOR DIVUS CREWEL looks down at all of the names with disdain and mutters something about ‘rowdy mutts slobbering around his pup’ and something about ‘neutering’ before signing his name on your shirt with a flourish

PROFESSOR TREIN looks at you fondly and gives you one of his tea biscuits before signing his name.

COACH ASHTON VARGAS gives you a booming laugh and a hair ruffle as he gladly signs his name all big and loud with several exclamation marks and some reminder to always work out

MR SAM argues with his friends from the other side on whether or not he should add their names as well. Instead he just signs his name and draws a cute little skull next to it

P.S. Please note that, if given the opportunity, any one of the NRC boys would very gladly and willingly write their names directly onto your skin with no hesitation whatsoever.

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malinthebodyguard · 2 months

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Young Royals is anti-monarchist propaganda (always has been)

I think it’s fair to say that most of the fandom was quite happy with the finale. However, I’ve seen a handful of posts by people who were unhappy, specifically those who were unhappy with Wille giving up his place in the line of succession. These criticisms range in everything from dismissing Wille’s choice (Wilhelm has made a harsh decision without thinking of the consequences, this won’t actually make the media circus around him go away), to those disappointed in how the monarchy in general was represented (Wille could have modernized the institution, no one in the show attempted to consider how the monarchy could be good, actually). I don’t want to invalidate anyone’s feelings about the finale. If you didn't like it, that’s more than ok and I don’t want to argue with anyone about their taste.

But when it comes to criticism about Wilhelm giving up the throne, I do find myself frustrated at what I see as a fundamental misunderstanding of what this show was trying to communicate. Young Royals, plain and simple, is a story that denounces the incompatibility of antiquated and hierarchical institutions (Hillerska, the monarchy) with equality and justice.

If you’ve had the displeasure of being my fandom friend you’ll know that I’ve spent the last 3 years yelling about how this show is about abolishing the monarchy. I even wrote a lengthy fanfic with the sole excuse of having Wilhelm arrive at this conclusion. Still, I knew that whatever statement the show wanted to arrive at, we’d only really be getting to it at the end of the show.

Seasons one and two were setting up all the characters on the chessboard for the end: Wilhelm is the Crown Prince, although he does not want to be. He and Simon are in love, but Wilhelm’s role drives a wedge between them. Erik’s legacy and August's spot next in line are keeping Wilhelm in his place.

From episode one, I think the show was telling us about the many things that are wrong with the monarchy, but I don’t think it’s until season three that these discussions become more explicit. Is this why some people were disappointed by the ending? Maybe so. Still, I wanted to look at how season three in particular answers some of the questions or issues people are bringing up regarding both the monarchy and the Wilhelm’s choice.

What do you like about the monarchy?

Season 3 Episode 4 is the first time we hear an explicit discussion about why the monarchy could potentially be a good institution. I’ve seen some people complain that the show didn’t give this idea enough thought.

I completely disagree with this take: the short conversation Wille and Simon have in this episode is succinct, but still effective at presenting both arguments in this debate. A longer and more drawn out conversation would have been a bit unrealistic and probably boring to watch. These are not academics having a debate, but two teenagers who are talking about what for them is emotionally charged.

There’s also no need for a longer, more detailed discussion. Wilhelm does provide a very good answer to the question: The monarchy is there to unite the people. To be a neutral party in situations when the government cannot or will not interfere.

A quick civics lesson: In parliamentary democracies, the monarch serves as the Head of State.

This role is predominantly representative, although in many places the government is formed in the name of the monarch. This could, theoretically, grant them some political power-- since they could technically reject the winning party from forming a government. However, in most parliamentary monarchies, the King or Queen simply has to accept whatever decision is made based on election results.

However, the value of the Head of State is precisely in its apolitical nature. Regardless of who’s in power, the head of state is a neutral ambassador of the nation, both in and outside of their country. Their job is diplomatic and representative, and one that is thoroughly divorced from politics. This is what Wilhelm meant when he said that the monarchy was there to ‘unite the people’. Whenever I’ve spoken to pro-monarchy folks about their beliefs, they cite this as the reason why they like it.

It’s easy to see why Wilhlem would latch on this as his main argument to defend the institution. I don’t think there is anything inherently bad about having a separate head of state that represents the country. I don’t think the major grip with this issue is the having a head of state, but the fact that the head of state is a hereditary position. Simon says this himself twice in this episode: the issue is not that the head of state exists, but that the head of state is not an elected position. Furthemore, the head of state is a role that is imposed on a person not by their talent as a public speaker or negotiator, but by a simple accident of birth.

The job’s legitimacy or importance should not be above any individual’s right to autonomy and self-determination. Furthermore, considering that taxpayers are the ones who finance this position, shouldn’t they be able to elect who it is?

Let’s imagine a scenario where a friend tells you they’ve gone into a career because everyone in their family works in that industry, and they simply had no choice in the matter. It wouldn’t even matter if they were good or bad, they had a job in this career guaranteed from birth.

Would you not be concerned that maybe your friend is unhappy for a rather unnecessary reason? Would you not think that perhaps someone who actually wanted the job would be better suited for it? Would you think it right for a company to hire someone simply because of their family history? Would you consider any of this fair? And what is so special about monarchy that makes us have a different answer for it than we would if the question was about law or medicine?

You’ll always be famous.

Another common criticism I’ve seen is that Wilhelm will inevitably regret his decision, especially once he realizes that public scrutiny will not be going away. This is true, Wilhelm will likely always be a figure of public interest. But to me, this has always been a negative consequence of the monarchy, and I have a hard time seeing this is a valid reason why he should stay in it.

From the second we meet him, we know Wilhelm is uncomfortable with both the public attention and the scrutiny placed on him. However, this goes a bit further than that. I’d argue than more than the scrutiny itself, Wilhelm is weighed down by having to keep a public image. Because, remember folks, Wilhelm is not merely an awkward teenage boy with acne and a crush. No, no, Wilhelm is the State. Wilhelm is going to be a publicly-funded representative of the nation . This means, of course, that there’s a narrative, as he mentions himsef, that needs to be put forward. One that’s generic, serious, and unproblematic:

From the get go, Wilhelm is uncomfortable with the inauthentic and performative aspect of his role.This is a constant we see with Wilhelm in seasons one and two: every ‘performance’ he has to do fills him with nausea, anxiety, or some sort of discomfort.

In season three, Wilhelm begins acquiescing to this performance. Uncomfortable as he may be, for most of season 3 he’s accepted that this is his role. However, the attention this season shifts from Wilhelm to Simon, who’s now the one facing public scrutiny. The difference is that, unlike Wille, there’s no role for Simon to play. Nothing about who he is or what he believes is compatible with the public image the monarchy is putting forward. The only thing he can do in this situation is disappear, and Wilhelm is tasked with having to ask that of him.

I know a lot of people were exasperated at Simon’s very bad and clumsy social media presence. I’m not gonna argue that my boy wasn’t being a bit cringey, because he absolutely was. But I think the larger commentary here has more to do with the expectation that these two teenagers have to censor and edit themselves to comply with a particular PR image.

Ultimately, the criticism that Wilhelm will always be famous leads us straight back to the institution. Why does an underage boy have the same PR expectations as a politician? Why is a teenager dating his classmate + being cringe online justification for doxxing him? Unfortunately, no abdication is really going to undo any of this, and things are certainly going to be crazy once Wilhelm announces he’s stepping down .

However, this time around both he and Simon will at least have the agency to decide what they want to do with their public image, including the decision to disappear from the public completely if that’s what they want.

Queer representation

This a sentiment that has been in the fandom for some time now. This was the main argument why some people wanted Wille to stay in the monarchy. Sure, the institution has always been about bloodlines and tradition. But wouldn’t it be so nice to have Wilhelm as a symbol for the queer community? I’ve always found this idea a bit shallow. I’m not sure how much of a symbol of a queer and progressive country Wilhelm could be, when the whole idea is predicated on absolutely no one having a choice in the matter. Is it really impressive to accept the queerness of the guy you already had no choice in accepting?

There’s three scenes in season 3 where the potential Wilhelm -and by extension Simon- could have for the queer community come up. Farima brings it up in the first episode, but the framing here is reversed. Wilhelm isn’t serving the LGBTQ community by being a queer Prince, but the monarchy is using Wilhelm (and his queerness) to appear progressive.

The show, however, does humor this idea with the May 1st photo. We see what Simon and Wilhelm could potentially do for the community by simply existing as who they are: they’re inspirational. It gives Simon, briefly, hope that maybe something good could come out of this.

But this moment is quite literally framed by politics. It doesn't matter that Simon is not participating in that manifestation, anything that is slightly connected with politics is a challenge to neutrality of the monarchy. This same idea is stated more explicitly int the next episode, when Wilhelm is reviewing the options for his charity.

Ultimately, any action significant enough to be truly impactful, would be bordering the limits of what could be considered political. He's got to stick it out with these quite frankly boring and limited themes, all for the sake of staying on the very narrow lane of things that are not political.

The weight of the crown.

Stories about Kings and Queens usually carry the same fundamental tension of duty vs self.

In order to rule, our protagonist has to sacrifice themselves, usually for the sake of their country and people. The Crown is an excellent example of this type of story. Sacrifice in that series is framed as something noble and selfless.

Young Royals started out with this same fundamental tension, but the main difference is that Young Royals has framed this debate as a question:

Why should Wilhelm give himself up, his happiness, the love of his life, and his mental well-being? What’s so important and valuable about this institution that requires this sacrifice?

Wilhelm’s journey is about accepting and voicing his answer. He doesn’t want to be Crown Prince, he doesn’t want to be King.

But by virtue of taking part of this journey with him, we’re able to examine this question from a different perspective: Is this institution valuable enough to justify all of this? I think the show is inviting all of us to evaluate this situation and arrive at the conclusion that it isn’t.

Even someone like August, who wanted this, is weighed down by the realization of just how much the crown weighs. Of course, a big part of the fandom probably doesn’t live in countries with parliamentary monarchies. Still, considering the worldwide popularity of the British Royals, for example, I still think it’s a worthwhile exercise to question the validity of these institutions. Are they really worth sustaining? And if they’re not, why should we continue to drag them on into the present, citing tradition?

#young royals #prince wilhelm #Wilhelm #wilhelm yr #simon eriksson #Wilmon #Politics in Young Royals #august horn #yr meta #my and

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