#just the boys being happy

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Freedom

day 23!! @youngroyals-events <3

Wille and Simon go out to enjoy a nice, summer day in town. Something is weird, though, and they can’t quite place what it is.

read below or on ao3 (G, 800)

Wilhelm was used to people staring at him. He’d gone his whole life that way; still remembers the first time he realized that his life was very different from his friends’ lives, and that not everyone had to walk out on fancy balconies in a suit at 6 years old and wave at crowds of cheering people. While he wasn’t necessarily okay with it – in fact, he rather hated it – he knew how to handle it. 

Simon, on the other hand, was not used to it. He’d been unwillingly thrown into the spotlight first by August, and then for a second and third time by Wilhelm. What made it even worse was that the stares Simon got were unkind stares. They were judging and sneering, whispered gossip and smothered giggles. 

So, now, despite the fact that Wille’s stepped down and it’s been years since the video and the speech, whenever they go out in public, Wille no longer knows how to handle it. He doesn’t mind the stares on him, but knowing it makes Simon uncomfortable, knowing his beautiful boyfriend pretends it doesn’t, makes Wille all the more nervous and angry. How dare they continue to gossip when they don’t even know Simon at all? How dare they make him hesitant to be in big crowds or, God forbid, anywhere near a royal monument? 

He is never thinking about it directly, but the anxiety is always there bubbling in the back of Wille’s mind. So aware of Simon, always aware, and never wanting to cause him any more undue harm; which, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Even after all this time, it’s still Wille and his (former) royalty status that brought all this shit down on them. 

It’s a gorgeous summer day, the sun finally out in full force after a rainy spring, and they’ve decided to go out to run a few errands and maybe have lunch at a park. At this point, it’s second nature for him to keep tabs on their surroundings, prepared to throw glares at anyone who dares look at Simon wrong for even a second. They make it to the main thoroughfare of shops without incident, though, and the worry fades to the background. 

Simon looks absolutely radiant in the warm sunlight, blissful and smiling. They swing their hands between them as they walk, admiring the pretty window displays and commenting on the delicious smells coming from a bakery nearby. A street performer is playing the violin, and they drift over. Wille wraps his arms around Simon, and they sway there for a moment, enjoying the music and the gentle breeze. As they continue down the path, they pass a jewelry store and Simon eyes the rings in the window. When he turns and sees Wille’s giddy expression, he giggles and shakes his head. They already know; the promise is there. But, they have time. Not yet, but soon. 

By the time they grab a few sandwiches and settle down on a park bench, Wille can still feel something weird wiggling under his skin. Glancing around, he doesn’t see anyone staring at them or any ill-disguised camera phones. 

“Does today feel kind of weird to you?” Simon asks, looking over at him with a smear of mustard on his cheek. Wille reaches out to wipe it away, then sucks his finger into his own mouth to clean up. Simon smiles in thanks, then continues, “Not a bad weird. Like, today is lovely, but just kind of weird?”

Wille hums when Simon brings a clean hand up to rest against the back of his neck, fingers gently brushing the short hair there. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. I don’t know what it is.” 

They both look around for a moment, admiring the ducks circling in the pond before them. Somewhere across the way, a group of children laugh and chase each other through the grass.

“Oh my God,” Simon gasps out, grip tightening on Wille’s neck. He drops his sandwich onto the paper wrapping in his lap, and turns back to Wille, mouth open in shock.

“What?” Wille sits up straighter, scanning around them in fear. 

“No one’s looking at us! No one’s been looking at us all day!” Simon exclaims, wide eyes still trained on Wille. 

It can’t be. Wille looks at the groups of people around them, then thinks back to their walk through the shops. That feeling he’d had wasn’t anxiety, it was confusion.

“Oh my God,” Wille repeats. 

Simon laughs joyously. “Are we finally irrelevant?” 

Still not fully believing it, Wille continues to think. Not even the cafe attendant spared them a second glance when they’d ordered their sandwiches. They’d even asked Wille for his name for their order – Wille had never given his name for anything like that in his life. 

A smile grows on his face, large enough to rival Simon’s. Finally, he looks back over at his beautiful, beautiful Simon, chest bursting with love and glee.

“No,” Wille says, shaking his head. “We’re free.” 

[egophiliac]

he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!

PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE

[lil-lemon-snails]

[rayveneyed]

sukuna ryomen is somewhat of an infamous bachelor.

it’s not surprising to see him with a new beau every few months, if not weeks — almost trope-like in their frequency, his image bouncing between playboy and manwhore. he doesn’t take it personally, and he makes sure to let people know: he’s young and sexy and he has two oscars, for fuck’s sake, so he thinks the world can cut him some slack when he wants to mess around. and mess around he does.

between obvious paparazzi shots of panties tucked badly into his back pocket, and instagram posts with fellow actors and models pressed tightly against his chest, most are divided between thinking it’s either damn good pr, or a simple man living a life most would wish for. regardless, nobody is surprised when sukuna arrives alone at the mugler show for paris fashion week, and leaves with someone on his arm.

the only thing that came as a bolt from the blue was that it was you hanging from him.

the photos are undeniable, a story in parts; sukuna finding his seat in the front row, you on one side and kendall jenner on his other. his eyes drifting from the models to your face, as if taking a clandestine peek. you, meeting his underhanded gaze with a smile as sweet as spun sugar — and, gasp, sukuna returning it. the display is so out of character for him it feels almost voyeuristic to see it plastered all over twitter.

you, with your vintage, girl-next-door-esque image, big hair and big eyes and demure, calf-length hems, a voice that evokes the memory of helen forrest or ella fitzgerald. him, with his smudged eyeliner and tattoos and all-black attire, persistently typecasted as the panty-dropping bad-boy or devil-smiled brute. it shouldn’t work. for all intents and purposes, he should be spotted with a new supermodel the next week, leaving you in the dust of his philandering. most expect it, wait for the other boot to drop — expect an album of heartbreak from you, but—

a month passes. and another, and another. and suddenly sukuna ryomen, notorious rake, is photographed backstage at your shows. suddenly there’s an anklet hanging from your ankle, his initials in garnet. it’s early morning paparazzi pictures of you both in sweatpants and hoodies — yours, suspiciously oversized — one of his hands engulfing yours, the other holding a bag of takeout from a local breakfast spot, a lit cigarette in his mouth. hickies on your neck and a shit-eating grin on sukuna’s face. candid snaps taken at intimately sized parties, with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his large hands cupping your stomach. tiktoks of you both on the red carpet in the background of somebody else’s interview, sukuna leaning in close to brush an eyelash from your cheek.

neither of you confirm anything, but then — you don’t need to, do you?

[hinamie]

can't believe im saying this but long time no megumi

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[sophfandoms53]

Anyway shout out to Dewey who constantly looked like he was having the worst time of his fucking life in the pitches

Just an 11 year old pissed off at the world it seems😭

[technically-human]

Ooh, now that we’ve seen N!Edwin and DP!Edwin talk about Feelings could we see the same with N!Charles and DP!Charles?

As simple as that.

Edwins version

ko-fi

[coloursflyaway]

I kind of wonder if the reason both boys are wearing gloves so often is because not being able to feel is kind of painful.

Not in the actual sense, but touching something soft and not feeling the fabric against your skin and realising that you're forgetting how soft used to feel must be horrible. Brushing against something hot when it is a winter's day and not feeling the relief of your blood warming under your skin must make you long for it, because yes, you don't get the pain of it, but you never get the pleasure either.

And touching someone you love more than life and death and existence itself and not feeling their skin against yours must be agonising, but maybe its easier to bear if you pretend that the only reason for it is the gloves you wear. You can't feel your soulmate's fingers because you are wearing gloves. You can't feel their hair when you ruffle it because of them, too. You can't feel their warmth and the softness of their skin and their tendons shifting under your touch because of the gloves, not because you'll never feel again.

And now imagine if they end up taking them off and realise that they can feel every touch up there, but because they're both ghosts or because they love each other the most or because of any other reason they can feel it too, and Charles reaches up and brushes a finger across Edwin's jaw and Edwin feels it, every bit of it.

Imagine that the only thing they'll ever be able to feel is each other and imagine how that would always be more than enough.

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[zuppizup]

My angsty brain: So… Callum’s Dad died of some kind lung condition, eh? Sure would be a shame if that was hereditary

[herewegobebe]

Happy Birthday Taeminnie 🥰💞🐥💞✨💞🥳

[chiakery]

Dropout newsletter this week:

Me:

[jacqcrisis]

I can't stop thinking about the rings on Hermes' fingers. I can't. Whats the story behind those? Did he start wearing them because Charon gave them to him as a job well done? The weirdest gift imaginable to your professional associate?

Did Hermes steal them to be a cheeky bastard and got them fitted and put them on for the jokes? Did he start wearing them apropos of nothing? Just happen to start accessorizing like his professional associate? Is it part of a shared uniform? Can we see the employee handbook?

Did Charon go out and get rings commissioned to look exactly like his for not one, but two of his partner in crimes' fingers, slide each lovingly onto Hermes' corresponding digits, and then gently hold his now bejeweled hands in his own to see how they match, knowing Hermes will now carry something of Charon with him when he leaves him for his dangerous work?

I'm just. Asking. Questions. But I swear to God, if we get Charon's portrait and he has a feather or an orange ribbon somewhere on his person, I will be inconsolable for days.

[hinamie]

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