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[rosestowrite]

Hey!! I have an idea for a headcanon. It’s alright if you don’t like it ☺️. Basically it’s about how the princes would wake mc up. In this case i would assume that mc is a heavy sleeper, who’s got trouble waking up…

Yeah, that’s basically it… 🤭 it’s your choice if you want to do it in a funny manner or rather in a cute style… or maybe they even wake her up in a mean kind of way (*cough, cough* clavis) 😂 yeah it’s up to you.

It would be cool if you could write for clavis and leon. For me those two are enough 😁

Cheers! Love your blog btw. 😊

Clavis, Leon, & Yves Waking a Sleepy Reader

So sorry this took ages @rosestowrite. Guess you could say I've been sleeping on this one, hehe... I added Yves because of that Garfield gif, but it ended up being a bit of a tirade.

Clavis Lelouch

Two to the right… three left… once more right… Click!

Clavis pocketed his lockpick and silently strode into the room, closing the door behind him with the faintest snap. He followed the dim pattern of morning sun seeping through the curtains toward the bed to find the blanket slowly rising and falling in rhythm. Smiling softly, he tiptoed to your desk, laid the small stack of papers he brought with him, and sat down to work.

He couldn’t quite remember when this little routine of yours began, though it had been long enough to the point where you’d ceased boring your unamused gaze into him upon waking. Every irate gawk was warranted, he believed, as the first ones he received were as a result of some cleverly convoluted contraption he used to rouse you from your slumber. There was the time he climbed in through the windows bearing a bouquet of the freshly bloomed corpse flowers he’d been cultivating for months — you awoke with a scrunched up face and the atrocious smell lingered in your room for days. And the time he released a swarm of newly-hatched chicks on your bed — they adorably pecked at your eyelids until they shot open. And who could forget the Amazing Ambush of August — yours was an expression he would relish for the rest of his life.

Of course, this was all due to the fact that you were naturally a stubborn sleeper. Such a tricky customer demanded only the most eccentric of wakeup calls. But as the months went on, Clavis found it harder to come up with exciting new ways to get you up (the same trick never worked on you twice, it seemed). He remained determined and pushed through these creativity blocks, he was the only person to survive the Brutal Beast in the morning, after all. There were some days his conviction faltered and he seriously considered reusing his methods for waking Chevalier on you, though he’d always push those thoughts and his sword aside. He would never lay a finger on you.

Eventually his exhaustion overtook him, and one day he simply sat by your desk at the cusp of dawn, tinkering with some parts for a new trap he was developing, watching the sun climb over the horizon and waited. To his surprise, it didn’t take you nearly as long to wake on your own as he’d expected; several hours before Chevalier normally would, in fact. You merely stared at him, that skeptical look fighting your snoozy countenance as he greeted you, tricky gadget in hand, and from then on the over-the-top wakeup calls ceased.

He knew he could always pop in just before you normally woke, but he found himself unfathomably drawn to your room in the early mornings. Perhaps it was the way your windows faced the rising sun, with desk perched at the perfect angle so that the light never stung his eyes as he reviewed documents. Or it could be the soft colors of the walls that gleamed almost ethereally as the rays hit them, turning the tiny room into a private enchanted chamber for a precious few hours. Or maybe it was the fact that he could simply turn his head and find you resting peacefully under his care that brought him peace in these precious moments before the hustle and bustle of the workday.

The bed stirred, and Clavis watched with rapt attention as you groggily sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. He could always acquire a key to your room, but like he savored cataloging hundreds of your waking expressions, he felt the honor of getting to be the first thing you saw in the morning must be earned.

Leon Dompteur

The door barely managed to hold onto its hinges as it burst open, Leon Dompteur proudly prancing through it in its wake. 

“Who’s ready for the most epic hike of the season?” he bellowed to the cavernous room, carrying two immense loaded backpacks in his hands. When no one responded, he lowered his arms and squinted through the dark to find your form still entombed in blankets.

“Hey!” he called, striding up to your side. “You’re still in bed? The Sun’ll be up soon!” He dropped the bags to the floor with two loud thumps! and clutched the end of the mattress, shaking as hard as he could manage without making you fly off the bed. Aside from a wheezy snore, you made no indication you’d heard the prince or felt his mini quake. 

“Come on,” he pleaded, now moving to lightly shake your shoulder. If you were any of his brothers, he wouldn’t have bothered with the courtesy and chucked him straight to the floor. But even though you were bold enough to suggest an early-morning hike with him up the mountain in the dead of winter to watch the sunrise, he still had his dignity as a prince to maintain. 

Well, that was only partly the reason. He’d also bore witness to you falling victim to one of Clavis’s more… bonkers wakeup calls last August. You had chased him halfway through town before Leon caught up and held you back. He had never seen a more determinedly savage look on anyone before, and he grew up watching Clavis prank Yves multiple times a week.

Safe to say, Leon wasn’t too keen on getting too close to you while you were unconscious, so he applied every unobtrusive method he could think of to break your slumber.

But he had tried everything; whistling birdsong to match the morning doves, tickling your nose with a feather quill, cracking his knuckles right beside your ear. Nothing worked! You were really knocked out this time, but drastic times called for drastic measures. You did authorize the use of force if it came to it, after all…

Leon unclasped his sword from his belt and, still sheathed, brought the tip to your side, making sure he stood far out of your armsreach. Applying the slightest bit of pressure, he ran the end up your spine in undulating movements.

“Look out! A rat’s crawled into your sheets!” he called, failing to hide the amusement in his voice. Not that you would have noticed, the way you rocketed out of the bed and sprinted toward the door. Clavis may be on to something, your morning reactions were really fun.

“Great, you’re up! Come on, we’d better get a move on if we’re gonna make it before sunrise,” Leon said, tossing a pair of jogging pants and a sweater to your scowling face.

Yves Kloss

Sweat pooled along his brow, and Yves elegantly wiped it off with a flick of his handkerchief before knocking on your door, a silver tray perfectly balanced in his other hand. He waited exactly sixty seconds before knocking again and, allowing another sixty-second intermission, resolved to opening the door himself. 

Sunlight dully filed in from the open curtain, illuminating the stacks of books and bottles of ink haphazardly piled atop your work desk. Yves carefully shifted the lot aside enough to set his tray down and scan his surroundings. As he feared, the room was in no better condition. More books littered the floors, many of which still open with pieces of parchment covered in your handwriting stuffed inside, bags and shoes piled in every corner, and there didn’t seem to be a single piece of furniture that didn’t have some article of clothing haphazardly hanging off it. 

“Honestly,” Yves muttered, plucking a satin dress from an armchair. His scowl quickly melted away as he studied the dress more intently, memories of the ball you two attended the prior week flooding his mind, and he let out a sigh. 

He truly admired the persistence and dedication you put into your work, it made him puff up with pride to reminisce the day you’d proclaimed you wanted to replicate his work ethic, but there was a fine line between effort and exertion. How very fortunate you were to have such an understanding and considerate prince by your side to reel you back whenever you overdid it, he thought. He had just hung the dress back in your closet when he heard a stirring from the bed.

“Oh, good morning!” he said brightly as he retrieved the tray. “That didn’t take too long, and what luck, because I’ve brought breakfast. Tea today is a fruity blackberry blend, it should be finished steeping now, and I’ve just taken this souffle out from the oven, so it should still be perfectly —”

But he cut himself short when he saw you still snoozing. Pink-faced and hurt, he slammed the tray back onto the desk, a splash of tea jumping out from the pot and onto his finger.

“Ouch!” he cried, but quickly covered his mouth. You made no sudden movements, and Yves lowered his hand. It was an odd feeling, he wanted so badly for you to wake up and enjoy breakfast with him, but at the same time he wanted you to rest after all your work. It was like his body was conflicted between the two and couldn’t settle on what he truly desired. 

Yves solemnly sucked on his finger and approached the bed again. You looked like you were having a very peaceful dream, a quaint smile draped across your lips, and once again Yves felt the contradictory sensation of letting you continue or asking you to share what made you smile so. He sincerely hoped you were dreaming of him.

Ridiculous. What did it matter what you were dreaming about? Or who? Nope, nope, nope! He wouldn’t dwell on that. He turned away to look at the tray again and an idea popped into his mind.

Right, he’ll just wake you up before the breakfast gets cold. Then while you two were eating, he could casually slip the question. Easy as pie! 

Easier said than done. He didn’t have the nerve to rustle you when you looked so tranquil. And if him yelping in pain wasn’t enough to wake you, what would?

You are a prince, whispered a voice in his head. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Jin’s. And how do princes wake sleeping maidens?

Suddenly Yves’s legs felt as though they were made of souffle. How absurd. Ludicrous. Preposterous. As if he could do that.

He looked at your sleeping form once more and thought, for just a moment, how lovely it would be to have those smiling lips directed at him when you awoke. He couldn’t feel the pain in his finger anymore, because the overwhelming sensation of his hands growing clammy overpowered it. No! That wouldn’t be right, you weren’t conscious.

Although, you did once say that it would be nice if he was more open with his affections. Spontaneous was the word you used. 

The room became stifling as an oven. Yves stood at your bedside, perspiration building again in his brow, his hands… his everywhere. He hovered only a foot away from you, a bead of sweat trickling down his nose and dropping to the floor. Was this how Jin felt when sneaking up on a woman? No, Yves wasn’t sneaking, that sounded like he was doing something shameful. But then why did it feel like his mouth was the only dry place left on his body?

He leaned forward but halted as soon as he felt your tiny breaths on his face. His knees wobbled immensely, threatening to give out any moment. Tipsy and excited at the same time, he held his breath. It was now or never. He closed his eyes and took a step closer —

Bonk! A tiny pool of sweat gathered at his feet, enough to make him slip, and Yves’s forehead slammed hard against yours. He jerked back just as you let out a squeal, and the two of you rubbed your temples furiously before staring at each other. Deep pink blushes sprouted on your cheeks in unison.

“Wh— who were you dreaming about?” stammered Yves, and he wished more than all the desserts in the world that the head bonk would have just knocked him out.

Leon's bit is based off an episode with my roommates ^^;

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[rosestowrite]

do we have a word to make sense of this kind of loss: a body feeling like it doesn’t belong to you anymore? sometimes the act of enduring itself becomes too much to bear and you forget how to go on in a world that didn’t want you in the first place. how do you mourn something you can still see in the mirror?

Billy-Ray Belcourt, from This Wound Is a World; “An elegy for flesh”

[rosestowrite]

I have a young friend who dreams of becoming a novelist, but he never seems to be able to complete his work. According to him, his job keeps him too busy, and he can never find enough time to write novels, and that's why he can't complete work and enter it for writing awards. But is that the real reason? No! It's actually that he wants to leave the possibility of "I can do it if I try" open, by not committing to anything. He doesn't want to expose his work to criticism, and he certainly doesn't want to face the reality that he might produce an inferior piece of writing and face rejection. He wants to live inside that realm of possibilities, where he can say that he could do it if he only had the time, or that he could write if he just had the proper environment, and that he really does have the talent for it. In another five or ten years, he will probably start using another excuses like "I'm not young anymore" or "I've got a family to think about now”

—

Ichiro Kishimi,

The Courage to Be Disliked

[rosestowrite]

sadness in art

the dead miner by charles christian nahl (1867)

la folie by gustave dore 

the poor dog by edwin landseer

the misery by cristobal rojas (1886)

the wedding dress by frederick w. elwell (1911)

unequal marriage by vasili pukirev (1862)

at eternity’s gate by vincent van gogh (1890)

war by louis gallait (1872)

stańczyk by jan matejko (1862)

the bride of death by thomas barker (1839)

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tragedy in art

the execution of lady jane grey by paul delaroche (1833)

the fall of babylon by john martin (1831)

ophelia by sir john everett millais (1852)

the destruction of pompeii and herculaneum by john martin (1822)

princess tarakanova by konstantin flavitsky (1864)

the episode of the yellow fever by juan manuel blanes (1871)

les saltimbanques by gustave dore (1874)

ivan the terrible and his son ivan by ilya repin (1885)

the course of empire, destruction by thomas cole (1836)

the plague of ashdod by nicolas poussin (1630)

[rosestowrite]

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Here are some scientific facts about blood loss for all you psychopaths writers out there.

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'The Sirens'. John Longstaff. 1892.

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He loved her more…

I live for angst and this commission made me feel bad for Clavis.

Ari

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him… I wasn’t supposed to ache for him every moment he was out of my goddamn sight. But I did, I loved him so much more than words could describe. I had fallen for Chevalier and incidentally that made Clavis who was always with him become a very important friend to me. I didn’t realize it until Chevalier had proposed, when I cried tears that weren’t all due to happiness… I hurt because for longer than I cared to admit… I was already under Clavis’s spell. This has to be a punishment… watching the happiness fade from his eyes at my news. He still had my hand in his as he was going to place a kiss on the back of it just as any gentleman would do. “I see.” He swallowed hard after saying those words and all the mirth and playfulness that the 3rd prince was known for had vanished in an instant. I could see the emotions playing across his face as clear as day. First was denial…then the anger…the barganing… the depression… and then finally acceptance. He would let me go… but not before branding his love on my heart and soul with his kiss. I let him because it was the last time I would be unfaithful to Chevalier. I had accepted his ring and his heart and I wouldn’t hurt him by sneaking around with his most favored brother behind his back. The kiss was too short, but it filled me with all the warmth and love that Clavis felt and my heart broke because I knew I would live married to Chevalier but part of my heart would always live for Clavis… the mischievous 3rd prince who despite all of his pain showed me he loved me the most by letting me go and not allowing me to have to answer the question of who I loved more.

Clavis

He loved her… more than he could bear, there they stood on the balcony overlooking the rose garden. Ari’s hand pressed against his lips, but the smile he had shown was slowly dying at the words that escaped hers.. “I’m going to marry him.” Surely it was a lie… surely it was just a prank that she was playing on him as she knew how much he enjoyed playing them… but the look in her eyes told a different story. The tears were already slipping passed her eyelids as she stared back at him. His body went absolutely cold. He knew she felt something for him or she wouldn’t have bothered breaking his heart in this way. “I see…” he swallowed hard… what more could he say? Yet again he was reminded how inferior he was to Chevalier and it made him nauseous. Why was it always about Chevalier? Why wasn’t he worthy of anyones love and affection? He and his bunny had been close but not enough for him to believe she had genuinely fallen for him… I mean who would… who could when their competition happened to be the ice king who could do anything and was better than everyone? This is why he hated that bastard! Not only had he caused his mothers death but he had taken away the only woman Clavis had ever loved. He vowed he would kill him… he had to… but what then? Clavis lowered Ari’s hand and contemplated asking her to run away with him… or even just taking her away against her will maybe then she would forget about Chev… but the thought left his mind as quickly as it came he wouldn’t want Ari to hate him… as much as he craved his own happiness he craved hers more. He hated every hand this life had dealt him… it just wasn’t fair… his heart ached as though a million knives were prickling it…all leaving invisible scars that only Clavis could feel. “I know you will be happy… Chev may be a bit dense when it comes to the female population but rest assured with an adorably educated brother like me! We will have those wedding preparations done in no time.” Clavis finally forced himself to grin at his bunny and lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. “I will be with you every step of the way, my dear lady! I can only imagine the entertainment this union will bring!” Clavis uses his thumbs to wipe away her tears. It hurt him to see his precious little bunny suffering… no he couldn’t have that could he? Ari gives him a knowing smile through her tears. He let himself indulge with one last token of his love for her… a gentle kiss he placed on her lips… one he knew she wouldn’t deny him. That would be the end for the two and it hurt Clavis more than any wound… because this one would fester under his skin invisible until he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. But he wouldn’t tell her that, he couldn’t… because as always he loved his Bunny more.

[rosestowrite]

Does someone wanna be friends on Ikemen Prince ? 🤞

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A post shared by Art Memes! (@ancientcringe)

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You simpering simpleton !

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Karl von Blaas (Austrian, 1815-1894)

Allegorie der Kunst

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There is something so oddly endearing about this and so aggressively OPPOSITE of Chevalier 😆

Sweet guy , ily even if you don't like reading 💜

[rosestowrite]

I have a question, who are all the princes mother? Jin's mother was the previous belle right?

Hello! Yes, you got that right.

As for details regarding all the other princes' mothers... I'll be putting the entire answer under the cut due to major spoilers for all routes and more.

p.s. I also included information on the previous King which is also Major Spoilers. (The answer for their mothers is already full of spoilers already anyway so might as well....)

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Note: All info are from IkePri JP. There may be some differences in terminologies when it comes to how IkePri ENG localizes it since so far IkePri ENG have been changing things up A LOT.

Princes' Father - The previous King of Rhodolite, his physical characteristic is that he and Luke are a splitting image of each other but the previous King and Jin shares the same eye color.

Jin Grandet's Mother - Coralie Grandet, The previous Belle, a commoner with the same hair and skin color as Jin.

Chevalier Michel's Mother - The previous Queen of Rhodolite, the only daughter of Marquis de Michel whose territory is one of the largest in Rhodolite. She was the previous King's princess consort ever since before he fell in love with the previous Belle. (She actually loves the previous King but her feelings for him remained forever unrequited right until death's door....). She shares the same hair and eye color as Chevalier.

Clavis Lelouch's Mother - Letizia Lelouch, a maid of from the family that's been serving Marquis de Michel's household for generations. Everyone from her family are obligated since birth to serve Marquis de Michel's household. She shares the same hair and eye color as Clavis.

Leon Dompteur's Mother - Confirmed to be a noble who married the previous King of Rhodolite as a result of a political marriage. She shares the same hair and eye color as Leon. (Unless we're talking about "Leon's" mother not the "4th Prince's" mother, then she's someone very very poor who couldn't afford to raise her child and sold him off as a slave ever since he was too young to remember who his parents even are)

Yves Kloss' Mother - Obsidian's Princess from the house of Kloss. Like the 3rd and 4th Princes' mothers, also married the previous King of Rhodolite as a result of a political marriage but this one was an attempt to form an alliance between Obsidian and Rhodolite. She shares the same hair and eye color as Yves.

Licht & Nokto Klein's Mother - Anita Klein, a travelling singer, an orphan from abroad (with what is assumed to be German as her mother tongue because "Licht" is her favorite word in her mother tongue). Not only does she shares the same hair and eye color as the twins, but they are a splitting image of her. She's a great beauty that captured the previous King's eyes at first sight.

Luke Randolph's Mother - A palace maid whose hometown is in Espoir (a village/town located at the border between Rhodolite and Obsidian). She shares a similar physical appearance to previous Belle but has the same eye and skin color as Luke.

[rosestowrite]

Grace Rose, Frederick Sandys, 1866

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Carl Strathmann, Chesnut Trees, ca. 1900