#the king and sovereigner of the sea

[deliajackson]

Instead of the new triology being Percy fighting for his life to get recomendation letters from the Gods, for the most stupid reason possible

We could have had a mermaid tale of Percy in Atlantis. How the city works, the sea politics, the many cities under the sea, the post war with Oceanus, Tyson & Percy bonding, Poseidon & Percy bonding. More of Kym. Sea animals. Reefs.

Like... I just wanted a mermaid tale. And we could have had.

[leclerc-hs]

the prince of monaco - cl16

pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a sad prince and a common girl cross paths or charles and you find yourself in a forbidden romance warnings: ANGST, smut, language!!! idk what else I'm missing. ANGST ANGST ANGST. not proofread. word count: 5.6k authors note: SURPRISEEEEEE! FIRST CHARLES FIC OF THE YEAR FINALLY. i hope you guys like it & i know you might haaate my guts after but it had to be done LOL. let me know what you think!! love hearing from y’all ALWAYS. xoxo

The palace was too quiet at night. Not peaceful. Hollow.

The kind of silence that rang in your ears and made your own breath sound like betrayal.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath Charles’s bare feet, cold and gleaming under the antique chandeliers. He wandered them like a ghost…aimless, invisible, half-dead in a golden cage. A prince draped in silk robes and golden obligations, walking the halls of a kingdom he no longer wanted.

Every corridor smelled like lemon polish and old money. Every portrait he passed stared down with painted eyes. Kings and queens carved from duty, immortalized in oil and expectation.

But Charles wasn’t thinking of them.

His mind was across the city, far from the manicured courtyards and diplomatic smiles. He was with you.

In that cramped little room above Le Vieux Lion, where the wallpaper peeled and the sheets smelled like your perfume.

Where the sea didn’t sparkle for tourists, it slapped the dock with rage. Where the nights weren’t silent, they breathed. They lived.

Where he remembered what it felt like to be wanted, not needed.

He hadn’t seen you in a week. Not since the news.

His father, Sovereign Prince of Monaco, had announced the engagement over dinner, voice as calm as a guillotine dropping.

An alliance. A family legacy. A strategic merger in the form of a wedding.

His mother didn’t blink, just reached for her wine. His sister, seated to his left, squeezed his hand beneath the table…the only rebellion anyone dared to offer.

Charles didn’t say a word.

Not when they showed him the ring.

Not when the date was set.

Not even when the royal tailor measured him for the suit he’d wear to sign away the rest of his life.

He waited. Watched. Swallowed it all.

And then he left.

He didn’t take the servant’s route. Didn’t don a disguise.

He walked straight out the east wing, through the marble archway, silk robe replaced by a hoodie. Soft, frayed, yours.

He pulled it tight around himself like armor and slipped into the black car waiting at the edge of the drive. No driver asked where he was going. The guards didn’t move. They knew better than to ask.

-

Two Years Earlier

The night air outside was warm and heavy with salt. One of those late summer nights where the heat stuck to your skin like a secret. Inside the bar, the ceiling fan creaked in slow, useless circles, stirring nothing but stale smoke and the lingering bitterness of spilled gin.

You were behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, fingers aching from a double shift. The radio played some old French dude, warbling about heartbreak and cigarettes like he’d invented them. A few regulars lingered, quiet and slumped, clinging to their glasses like lifeboats.

That’s when the door creaked open, and he walked in.

Not stumbled, walked. Like he owned the damn place. Like Monaco wasn’t five miles of tight streets and old money and marble prisons, and he wasn’t one of the poor bastards with a crown stitched into his skin.

He looked wrong in the best way.

Dark jeans, leather jacket that probably cost more than your rent. Hair slightly tousled like he wanted it to look like he hadn’t just stepped out of a car worth six figures. And that face…familiar in the way a storm cloud is familiar. You know it’s going to ruin you before it even arrives.

He had that smile. The kind women warn their friends about. Lazy. Expensive. Designed for headlines.

“Got anything that won’t kill me?” He asked, voice smooth like old bourbon, like he already knew you’d give him what he wanted.

You didn’t even glance up. Just kept wiping down the bar with a rag that had fought too many battles.

“That depends,” you said flatly. “You allergic to alcohol, or just fragile?”

The silence that followed was sharp, then broken by a laugh. Low. Rich. Surprised. Like no one had spoken to him like that in years.

“I like you already,” he said.

“Tragic,” you muttered, finally giving him a look. “I already want you to leave.”

He blinked, caught off guard. And then his grin widened, teeth white against the soft shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“What’s your name?” He asked, eyes flicking down, then back up. Slow, deliberate, like he was cataloguing you.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What’s yours?”

“Charles,” he said smoothly, like the name should mean something.

You gave him a slow, unimpressed once-over. “Charles. No last name? No title? You forgot the part where you tell me you’re a libra and looking for a real connection.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, mouth tugging into a smirk. “I am a libra, actually.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

“Of course you are.” You turned, grabbing the cleanest glass you could fine, and poured something sharp and unmerciful into it. “Here. Drink. Leave, Or don’t. Just don’t flirt with me like I’m stupid.”

He took the glass, eyes still on you. Sipped. Winced, just slightly, not used to the burn, but didn’t complain.

He liked it.

You could tell.

You were already walking away when he said it, voice low but clear:

“You still didn’t tell me your name.”

You didn’t stop. Just threw a look over your shoulder, that half-smirk you saved for people who thought they were too clever.

“If you come back tomorrow,” you said, “maybe I’ll lie and give you one.”

He stayed until close.

-

The door opened with a soft groan, that old, familiar hinge that had screamed a hundred comings and goings. But this time, it was different. The air changed. You felt it before you saw him.

The hum of the bar dimmed. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed near the back. But your hands paused, just briefly, over the half-dried wine glass in your fingers.

And then, there he was. In the doorway.

He leaned against the frame like he had all the time in the world—wearing the same leather jacket, but tonight it was zipped halfway down, revealing a black shirt that clung just enough to his chest to make your stomach tighten. His hair was messier, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. Or maybe he wanted it to look like someone else had.

His eyes found you instantly. No scan of the room. No pretense. Just direct, deliberate contact, like he’d been thinking about you all day and came to see if the memory lived up to the real thing.

It did.

You didn’t look away. Didn’t smile. Just raised a brow and went back to your glass.

He crossed the room slowly, like he knew the weight of every step. Like he was aware that people were watching him but didn’t care. Or maybe he liked it. Maybe he liked knowing he could have anyone in the room. Except the only one he wanted still hadn’t given him her name.

He slid into the same stool as the night before, elbows on the bar, that same infuriating smirk curling at his mouth.

“I came back,” he said. Voice low, warm. Like a promise you shouldn’t believe.

“I noticed,” you replied, not looking at him as you reached for a fresh glass. “Didn’t expect Monaco’s golden boy to slum it two nights in a row.”

He chuckled…and God, the sound was dangerous.

“Slumming it,” he echoed. “That what you think this is?”

You finally looked at him…fully, openly. And it hit you like a slow, burning wave. He was too close. Too handsome. Too confident in a way that wasn’t just money or power. It was something in his eyes—that flicker of hunger, of loneliness, of knowing what he wanted and hating himself for wanting it.

“This isn’t your world,” you said quietly. “You don’t belong here.”

He leaned in a little. Not enough to touch. Just enough that your breath caught.

“No,” he murmured. “But it’s yours.”

Your heart stuttered. You hated the way he said it. Like it was a confession wrapped in silk. Like he didn’t mean to mean it, but he did.

You slid the drink in front of him, fingers brushing his just barely…and even that felt like too much.

“You being here is a bad idea.” You whispered.

His eyes were on your mouth now. His smile was gone. “Then stop me.”

You didn’t stop him.

And he didn’t leave.

- 

He kept coming back.

Not with fanfare. Not like royalty. 

But quietly. Always late, always alone.

There were no photographers waiting outside, no clipped palace escorts, no watchful guards trailing behind him. He wore anonymity like armor. Hood pulled low, hands in pockets, head slightly down like he didn’t want the world to recognize him. Or maybe he didn’t care if it did.

He came as Charles. Not as a prince. Not as a future king. Just…Charles.

Worn leather jacket, soft hoodie, shadows beneath his eyes, and the kind of smile that looked like it had forgotten how to be whole. He smelled like night air and something faintly bitter—like espresso left too long in the pot. And every time he looked at you, it would felt like you were being read, not watched. Like he saw every layer you tried to keep hidden behind sarcasm and smoke. 

You hated how much you liked it.

-

At first, he sat at the bar.

Always in the same stool, hands cradling a chipped tumbler of whiskey he nursed more for the comfort than the taste. He didn’t flirt. Not outright. He asked about your night, the music, the bar fights you’d broken up over that week. He smirked at your answers, raised an eyebrow at your insults. Said your name like he was trying to memorize the shape of it in his mouth.

You tried not to care.

Tried not to notice the way he leaned in, just slightly, whenever you spoke.

Tried not to wonder why a man with the world at his feet kept choosing your tiny corner of it.

But he did.

-

Then, one night, you turned around and he was behind the bar.

Not on the customer’s side, but on yours.

He leaned casually against the shelves like he belonged there, like he hadn’t just crossed the invisible line between your world and his.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You asked, arms crossed, not bothering to hide the irritation, or the pulse suddenly roaring in your ears.

He held up a wine glass and a dish rag with a crooked grin. “Thought I’d lend a hand.”

“You’re holding that like it insulted you.”

“Could be worse,” he said, examining the stem with mock seriousness. “Could be holding my dignity. But I think I left that back at the palace.”

You snorted despite yourself. “You’re useless.”

He leaned in closer, voice lowering just enough to stir something under your ribs. “And yet…you haven’t told me to leave.”

You said nothing. But your silence felt like permission.

-

He started coming earlier. Staying later.

He’d drift in before your shift ended, slip through the back door like he belonged there. Sometimes he brought pastries, sometimes coffee. Once, inexplicably, a worn book littered with his handwriting on the pages.

“Though you might like this one,” he’d said with a shrug.

He’d sit in your space like it was second nature. Perching on the edge of the counter, watching you work, making soft commentary on your music taste.

“You play the same six songs,” he’d mutter, clicking through your ancient playlist.

“They’re classics.”

“They’re depressing.”

You glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled softly. “That’s probably why I keep coming back here.”

-

He asked you questions no one else dared.

Not the polite kind. Not surface things. He wanted the bones. The quiet hurts. The dreams you hadn’t spoken out loud before. Sometimes you answered. Sometimes you didn’t. But you never once, told him to stop asking.

And in return, he gave you pieces of himself. Unvarnished ones. The kind they didn’t print in the magazines.

“I hate the palace,” he confessed once, voice so soft it almost didn’t reach you. “Every room echoes. You start to wonder if you exist as all, or if you’re just…noise in a marble tomb.”

You didn’t reply. You just glanced at him until he did that thing with his jaw, the clench, like he’d said too much. Like he was scared of how much he wanted you to hear it.

-

There were moments when it felt like something would snap.

His hand brushing yours when you passed him a glass…not on accident, not anymore. His fingers would linger a fraction too long, just enough to let your pulse stutter, just enough to make you feel it later, alone in the dark.

The way he leaned in when he spoke, low and close, his breath grazing your neck, your jaw, the edge of your mouth like a secret he hadn’t confessed yet.

You stopped hearing his words. You only felt them.

You knew the shape of his mouth now. The way his bottom lip curved when he was trying not to smile. The faint pink of it after a drink. The way it moved when he said your name, like it was something he wanted, no needed, to taste.

And you hated it. 

How much you wanted him to.

-

One night, while you closed up, the lights were low, doors locked, just you and the hum of the city outside...you caught him watching you.

Really watching.

He stood behind the bar, hands in his pockets, posture casual. But his eyes were anything bit. They followed you like he was hungry. Like he was memorizing the way your shoulders moved beneath your shirt, the way your fingers gripped the edge of the counter, the way your lips parted whenever you sighed without realizing it.

He looked at you like he didn’t know how to stop.

You leaned on the bar, trying to keep your voice steady, playful. “You always this much of a romantic?”

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t even blink. Just stared, his gaze flicking to your mouth, then back to your eyes. It was so fast that you could’ve missed it. But you didn’t.

“No,” he said. His voice rougher than usual. “Just with you.”

Your breath caught. Just for a second. 

Your lips parted, something sharp and stupid rising. A comeback, a deflection. But nothing came out.

Your lips moved, then stopped.

And he looked away, jaw tight.

Not because he didn’t want to see what you were about to say. But because he already knew. And he couldn’t bear it.

-

The bar was quieter than usual. Only the hum of the cooler and the occasional creak of the old wood floor filled the silence. Rain tapped softly against the windows, more mist than storm, casting blurry halos around the streetlamp outside.

You should’ve been locking up. Should’ve told him to go.

But he was sitting at the bar again, legs swinging slowly, drink untouched, eyes on you like he was waiting for something neither of you could name.

And you weren’t moving. Not really.

You were pretending to count the bottles behind the counter, pretending your hands weren’t trembling just slightly, pretending you didn’t feel the way the air between you hadn’t changed.

Thicker now. Heavier. Laced with heat.

“I think about you,” he said suddenly, voice low—like he hadn’t meant to speak but couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Your fingers pause over a single bottle.

“In meetings. In cars. In rooms where I’m supposed to be someone I don’t even recognize anymore.” His voice dipped, softening, unraveling. “I think about this bar. About you.”

You swallowed hard. “Charles—“

"I know,” he cut in. “Don’t say it. Don’t say we shouldn’t.”

He slid off the bar in one fluid movement and stepped around it…slow, deliberate, as if trying to give you every chance to stop him. You didn’t.

Now he was standing in front of you. Too close.

The kind of close where the heat of him was brushing against your skin, where you could smell the rain still clinging to his clothes and the hint of citrus on his breath.

His hand hovered between you. Not touching. Just hanging there in the space that ached for more.

“Just…let me look at you.” He mutters, eyes sad.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t even breathe.

His fingers rose slowly, the knuckles of fingers brushed your jaw. Barely. Like even that felt too intimate. Too much.

But it wasn’t enough. God, it wasn’t even close to enough.

His hand turned, fingertips now tracing the line of your cheekbones. Featherlight. The kind of touch that wasn’t claiming, just asking.

He steps closer, close enough that your chests are nearly pressed together with every breath of air.

His thumb slid under your jaw, tilting your face up, and his eyes were fire and ruin and something devastatingly gentle all at once. Like he wanted to memorize you the way people memorize song lyrics. The way they memorize prayers.

His lips part and your heart nearly stops.

Then, he pulls back. Just an inch.

Just enough to break the spell. He stared at you like he hated himself for stopping.

His hand drops to his side like it weighed too much to carry.

Then, just barely, you whisper, “why didn’t you kiss me?”

He sighs, like your words physically pain him. 

“Because if I do,” he says, voice wrecked. “I won’t stop.”

-

It was the first time in weeks you’d let yourself be seen.

You didn’t know if it was the dress; midnight black, backless, clinging to you like it had been painted on, or the third drink warming your veins, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about him.

Or at least, you were trying not to.

The music was low and sexy. Your friends circled you, glittering and laughing, pulling you toward the edge of the dance floor under the pink-gold haze of the club lights. You let them. You let yourself move. Let yourself laugh. Let your head tilt back when that guy James said something cocky but charming into your ear.

His hand found your hip, just light enough to feel like suggestion, not possession. And you let him keep it there.

Because Charles wasn’t here.

Because tonight, you weren’t the girl in the back of the run-down bar, aching for something she couldn’t have.

You were fun. You were untouchable. You were free.

And then, you felt it.

The shift in the room was subtle at first, like a low pressure drop before a storm. You felt it in your spine. In the way the air thickened, charged. In the sudden awareness that someone was looking a you.

You turned. Slowly.

And there he was.

Charles.

Backlit by golden light, framed by the glint of glass and sweat and movement, he looked like something that didn’t belong here. Or maybe something that the room had been waiting for.

Black shirt open at the collar, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair falling just wrong over his forehead. Jaw tight, mouth set in something between a smirk and a snarl. Like he wanted to smile but didn’t trust himself to do it.

He looked like sin. Like power on the edge of unraveling. 

And his eyes. Locked on you.

Not the room.

Not the crowd.

Not even James.

Just you.

And when his gaze dropped. To the hand on your waist, the fingertips sprawled against your waist, to the way James leaned in a little too close. Something dark flickered across his face.

Something in him burned. You saw it. Felt it.

Like a wire snapped behind his ribs and now he couldn’t breathe.

His jaw locked. His chest rose once, slow and sharp, like even breathing had become too dangerous. Like just standing there and not touching you took every ounce of control he had left.

The heat in his stare could’ve burned a hole through you.

James leaned in closer. “You okay?”

You blinked and swallowed. Tried to smile. “Yeah,” you said. “Just—“

Your eyes flicked back to the bar. He was still there. Still watching. Still not moving.

James turned to follow your gaze. “I can’t believe he’s here. That’s so cool”

“Yeah…me either.”

People moved out of his way without realizing they had. They parted instinctively, like water bending around stone. Like the room itself knew who he was.

They didn’t see the crown. They felt the weight of it.

Royalty cloaked in rage and want, striding toward the storm.

Toward you.

-

The air was hot and heady, choked with perfume and alcohol and the sound of people trying too hard to feel something. The lights pulsed like a heartbeat. It was too fast. Too bright.

He didn’t want to be here. But anywhere was better than the palace.

He spotted her instantly. As if his body already knew where to look before his eyes did. The same way it always did. Like your presence had carved out a space in him long before he even touched you.

You stood near the edge of the crowd, black dress hugging you like a second skin, eyes bright, mouth curved in something that looked like a laugh.

And beside you. Another man.

The hand on your waist, the smug, lazy confidence of someone who didn’t know how precious what he was touching actually was.

The way he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, like your body was already his to own.

Like your heart didn’t already belong to someone else. Him.

Charles stopped breathing.

The sound around him blurred into static. His hands curled into fists in his pockets, nails biting into his palms.

Something sharp twisted low in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy wasn’t the word for it.

This was grief. This was rage. This was how dare you.

How dare you let someone touch you where he should’ve touched you.

How dare you pretend you’ve forgotten what it’s like to stand one breath from kissing.

-

The club was still pushing behind you, the laughter and sweat and lights bleeding through the walls…but here, in this narrow, dim corridor, it was just the two of you.

Too close. Too quiet.

Too dangerous.

He’d pulled you through the curtain without a word, fingers laced with yours like a vice, dragging you past confused glances and stunned silence. You’d followed, furious, breathless, burning.

Now, you were pressed against the wall, your back flush to the cold stone, your heart thundering like it wanted out of your chest.

And he was standing in front of you. Pacing. Seething. Unraveling.

“What the fuck was that?” He hissed, his voice low and sharp enough to draw blood. “Letting him touch you like that…was that supposed to hurt me? Was that the point?”

You scoffed, folding your arms to keep from grabbing him by the collar. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

He stopped pacing. His head turned slowly, jaw locked tight.

“You think I don’t see it?” He growled. “The way you look at me? Like you’re still waiting for something to happen, even though you know it can’t?”

Another step. His body inches from yours.

“You shouldn’t have worn that dress.”

Your voice shook when you said it: “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I know.”

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, not to scare you, just to steady himself. His face was too close now. The warmth of him coiled into your skin. His eyes search yours, wild and desperate and so goddamn full of want that it hurt.

“You’re not his,” he whispered.

You stalled. “Im not yours, either.”

He leaned in closer, mouth almost brushing yours, his breath warm and ragged.

“Say that again,” he dared.

You couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I hate you,” you breathed.

“I know,” he said, voice breaking.

And then he kissed you. 

Hard. Desperate. Starving.

His hands cup your face like he’d dreamt of this a hundred times and never thought he’d actually get to feel it. Your fingers tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, closer—mouths crashing like waves, clashing with every single ounce of frustration and ache.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t even polite.

It was heat and fury and I’ve wanted this for so long tangled in every brush of lips, every muffled groan, every helpless moan he pulled from your throat.

He kissed you like it hurt.

Like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

-

You don’t remember the walk to your apartment. Just the quiet tension between you. The warmth of his hand brushing yours but never holding it. The hum in your chest that hadn’t stopped since he kissed you.

You unlocked the door with trembling fingers. Left the light off. You didn’t need to see the room. You needed to feel him.

You tugged at his shirt, breath hitching as your fingertips brushed skin. His hands were all over you now, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted them. Your back, your hips, your jaw, gentle and desperate at once.

He knew he shouldn’t be here. Not in your apartment. Not in your bed. Not looking down at you like you were something he’d prayed for and never dared to ask.

But he was. And he couldn’t stop if he tried.

You were under him, lips swollen, pupils blown wide, your breath catching every time his fingers traced skin. And all he could think, over and over, was mine.

You arched into him, and he couldn’t stop the sound that tore from his throat.

Every inch of you was fire and familiarity, like his hands memorized your body before even touching it. Your thighs wrapped around his hips, nails dragged down his back. 

He groaned into your skin, forehead pressed to your collarbone.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, breathless. “You’re already here.” 

It was more than permission. It was a confession.

And when he sank into you slowly, carefully, the world full on stopped.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t rushed.

It was slow. Intimate. Almost painful in how good it felt, like every thirst was peeling back layers they’d spent building.

Moans swallowed into kisses. Skin against skin. Fingers tangled. Whispers like promises neither of them could keep.

He touched her like she was sacred. She kissed him like she’d never get the chance again.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, voice thick with awe, like the sight of you beneath him had knocked the breath clean from his chest.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow open-mouthed kisses dragging fire across your skin. He wasn’t in a rush. He wanted to taste every inch of you. To savor.

You gasped softly when he reached the hollow beneath your ear, and he felt it. The sharp intake of breath, the way your body arched, the flutter of your pulse under his tongue.

His hand slid along your waist, fingers pressing gently into your hip as he anchored himself to you, like he didn’t trust that this moment was real.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you.

Your eyes were heavy, glazed with want, lips parted and trembling.

And he couldn’t help it. He smiled. Not his royal smile. Not the careful, curated one they taught him to wear.

This one was raw. Private.

Just for you.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, brushing his nose along yours.

Your fingers reached up, sliding into his hair, and you pulled him back down. Kissed him like he was air, like he was yours. 

And Charles, normally composed, trained, restrained. Melted.

Right there, into your mouth. Into your body. Into you.

-

Present Day

You’re pacing now, your bare feet silent on the floor that suddenly feels too cold, too clean, and your hands are shaking. Not violently or visibly, but enough that you can feel your pulse throb between your fingers.

“You should’ve told me,” you say, your voice not quite a scream but not quiet. 

You turn to face him and he’s just standing there. Standing in the middle of your living room like he doesn’t belong to any part of it, like he’s not the reason everything in your body burns and aches.

“You should’ve looked me in the eye,” you breath is shaking now, “and told me you were going to marry her before I had to read it on a fucking television screen.”

He winces. But he doesn’t argue.

Of course he fucking doesn’t.

He never fights when it counts. He just lets things happen.

“I was going to tell you,” he says quietly. As if saying it softer will make it less cruel.

“Oh,” you laugh now. It’s sharp and ugly. “You were goingto?”

You arms fold across your chest because you need something. Anything. To hold on to.

“When?” You ask. Its a quiet kind of fury, tighter and more precise. “After the ring was on her finger? After the palace sent out save-the-dates? Or were you planning to do it after your wedding night, when you needed someone else to fuck.”

His eyes flash and there’s something wild there now, wounded and defensive, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t get to do this,” your voice trembles. “You don’t get to kiss me, hold me, say things to me like they meant something, and then just leave.”

His jaw tightens but his hands are clenched at his sides. He won’t interrupt you and it only makes you angrier. Because he’s so calm. So composed.

“You were never a detour,” he says. Finally. 

“Then what was I?” You ask, and your voice breaks. “What the fuck was I to you?”

His voice rises now, like he’s been holding it in for hours, for years.

“I didn’t want this!” He shouts. “Do you think I wanted to fall in love with you? To walk into a bar and meet someone who made me question everything I’ve spent my whole life being told I have to be?”

You blink, completely startled by the honesty in his voice. With the way it sounds like he’s choking on his words.

“Then why are you still choosing her?” Your voice softer. “Why are you marrying someone you don’t love?”

He looks at you like he’s bleeding. “Because I don’t have a choice. Because if I don’t marry her, everything I’ve spent my entire life preparing for. The crown, the country, the people. It all falls apart.”

“No,” You say, eyes locked on him. “It doesn’t fall apart. You’re just afraid.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“God,” you laugh. “You’re a fucking coward.”

He’s still just standing there. Looking at you like he’s drowning, like he knows what he’s about to do will haunt him forever. But he’s going to do it anyways.

That’s what love looks like.

A crown. A cage. And the person you would burn for walking away because the fire scares them.

“You don’t get to look at me like that.”

His brows furrow, “Like what?”

“Like I’m the one breaking your heart.”

He flinches. Just barely.

But you see it. You always do.

You walk to the sink, turning away from him, and turn the faucet on just to do something. “I hope she’s worth it.”

Charles swallows hard. “Don’t do that.”

You spin, your hands still dripping with water. “Don’t what? Don’t act like I’m the one being unreasonable while you walk away from the only thing that ever made you feel something?”

“I feel everything with you!” He yells, words bursting from his throat. “Every time I’m with you, I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t think. I can’t fucking sleep. I walk into the palace and I feel your hands on me like they’re branded there. I see your face in every goddamn crowd. I dream about you when I have to lie next to her, and I hate myself for it.”

You blink. Staggered. But he’s not done. 

“You think this is easy for me?” His voice breaks now. “You think I don’t want to choose you? That I haven’t stopped and stood in front of almost every mirror rehearsing how I’d say the words I’m done? That I haven’t imagined running, just running, until I could crawl into your bed and never leave?”

“Then do it,” you cry. “Fucking do it!”

He stares at you, breath heaving, soaked in silence.

And then softly he says, too softly. “I'm not brave enough.”

And that’s what finally does it. Your heart breaks in full. Like a dam giving way.

You let out a harsh sob that tastes like surrender. You push past him, hand over your mouth, body shaking as you try to hold yourself together.

But he follows.

“Don’t,” you say. “Please don’t—“

But his hands are already on you. Not to claim, not to kiss. Just to hold. Just to feel you. His arms wrap around your back like he doesn’t know what to do. His face buries into your neck, and you feel it. His breath hitching, his shoulders trembling.

He’s crying.

“I love you,” he says, muffled. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

And you sob harder. Because that’s what makes it worse. 

Because he means it. And it’s still not enough.

[ilreleonewikiart]

Westeros fashion studies: Stormlands

"The stormlands, historically the Kingdom of the Storm, are one of the constituent regions of the Seven Kingdoms on the continent of Westeros. The Kingdom of the Storm was a sovereign nation until Aegon's Conquest, in which the last Storm King was slain. The region is so-named for the savage and frequent autumn storms that batter the coast after beginning in the Summer Sea. The stormlands are ruled from the castle of Storm's End by House Baratheon. Notable bannermen of the region include Buckler, Caron, Connington, Dondarrion, Errol, Estermont, Penrose, Selmy, Staedmon, Swann, Tarth, and Wylde. Noble bastards raised in the stormlands are given the surname Storm."

[nemesyaaa]

from the sea // pirate!rafe cameron x mermaid!reader

summary ; he was the too scary captain of the ship, and you were the too gorgeous mermaid of the sea. you were on his way, he was on your territory.

but mostly, you were not allowed to go on the surface alone since your mother's death because of dangerous and killer men like him. so when you unfollowed the rules of your father, you faced the consequences.

genre ; fantasy blurb. siren x captain dynamic.

warnings ; fantasy story ? possession. rafe has whip scars/and one eye. fear enthousiast. slight of violence. reader is a mermaid with tail. light gun play mentions and using. smut. gaslighting. dubcon. no shells on breasts reader. webbed fingers. lust as a sin.

author's note ; it's a 3k words. no songs inspiration for this one. i just wanted to make a fantasy au.

you were that kind of beauty that aspired to make all men go crazy over you, and it was for this reason that you had taken so many pirates adrift, to their bodies to their ships. you were beautiful and indeed the bewitching and seductive creature that legends and tales spoke of, but you were also the dangerous monster that the captains with monstrous scars on their faces and marks on skin who had survived your man-eating canines were whispering about in the back of a tavern to overly curious and drunk sailors.

you were the wife of all the gods but above all, those who defended their oceans. but only since your mother's death, your father firmly forbade you from going to the surface, either alone or accompanied. you were forbidden by the all-powerful sovereign of the seas. and his law was indisputable because he was the king and the monarchy. one day as his daughter, you will also be the head of the kingdom, and hold the power as him, even if you're not interested in it.

but like all girls your age, you had trouble listening to your father. no, you had this innocent and blind thirst to chase men. and, you had never had an incident before, so what could stop you ? you only had to slip into the clear waves, and let your magical and fairy body disappear through the eddies of the water which made your flowing silhouette as fast and shiny as a shooting star. the feeling of diving into the soft waves that play hide and seek with your sparkling and enchanted tail while the water gently embraced your mermaid skin was always the best.

you were the only dazzling thing of the perfect blue. the sweet and salty waves kissing your nakedness and long mermaid tail illuminated with colorful reflections ran alongside the rest of your bared chest in the flapping of a fin. you looked nothing like a fish that fishermen wanted to eat, but you looked like an underwater creature that captains wanted to capture.

one stormy evening, you decided it was time to go to the surface. you needed to break the rules to survive. with all the youth and rebellion of your free will, you had left the abyssal depths to face the dangerous world.

the sea was raging, and the waves were decidedly uncontrollable and violent. the shadow of a boat disturbed by the marshy assault of the storm on the waves wavered from one end to the other. that meant you were going to be able to have fun. you could also hear from here the agitation of the crew, the fear and the tension building. you easily spotted the captain because he was much taller and broader, the one who didn't frown a single eyebrow, and who remained calm as if it was the storm that should be feared. his voice shouted orders that you couldn't hear because of the raging sounds of the hard weather. he had a parrot on his right shoulder, and bangs stuck to the sweat of his forehead lightly sweeping his face. he looked delicious, you licked your bottom lip, flicking your mermaid tail to move.

you barely lifted your head out of the water in a crashing entry, emerging from the water by sending your hair flying back, a splash of water falling noisily into the waves and attracting the attention of the sailors above of the boat.

“ captain, captain, look !! there’s a siren ! ” said a sailor who pointed a finger toward you.

“ she's gorgeous ! ” replied another.

“ those tits…”

“ stop being horny, that creature can kill you. i don't pay all of you to do all the work so everybody on the ship move his fucking ass before i throw you all on that storm. am i clear ? and if i don't hear a yes right now, i will let that siren eat every single piece of yours. . ” warned the captain with a deep and somber tone.

“ captain yes, yes captain. ” echoed all the sailor voices.

“ man, you can't say that when you have a fucking boner while looking at her. ” commented a sailor.

“ shut your mouth, barry. it's not her at all. ”

“ do you think i'm dumb to think it's one of the men on the ship ? come on, you can lie with that mouth but that hard dick in your pants betrays you. don’t worry, nobody is immune to tits, especially when they're wet as a fucking pussy.”

“ mind your business. ”

“ as you want, captain. ”

a smile appeared on your soppy lips, as you disappeared again into the tormented waves. you had surrounded the ship, swimming only around the boat. you loved it when everyone was fascinated by you, catching with their eyes all your flawless moves as a show.

water being your domain and your home, you took the initiative to do some twirls by immersing your entire body in the water to bring out only your tail as you leaped to the surface with some back flips and observing your audience. you stood on an icy rock, resting your webbed and manicured fingers against the stone.

“ someone is gonna fucking do his work here ? ” shouted the captain. he was actually running out of patience because of his crew being so attracted by the siren. “are you all dumb on purpose ? this is exactly what she wants, to get all of your attention, and kill you. ”

“ captain accept there is nothing you can do. that woman is too stunning. ” cutted one man, literally drooling over his huge beard, giving up his activity for you.

“ do you think she cares about you ? you're just a prey for her. but right, this is not my problem. you can leave my ship and die. ”

once comfortable on the rock, , you begin to open your mouth to sing a sweet song that would bring them as well as this storm to their doom. your voice was just a trap to lure men.

you had no shells on your breasts as the tales loved to tell. actually, you were completely naked from the top, water running down your chest to your mermaid glowing tail. your skin was still cold and damp, like your eyes. but it shone through the moon, and the white pearls on your body lit up every inch of your flesh like stars. you were of a beauty that had thrown more than one sailor into the water. you were in the image of no god, no man, no woman, you were the angel of the sea. you had a throne in every wave, a kingdom wherever you swam.

your hair fell deliberately on your shoulders, and your angelic voice currently pierced all the foam. the storm was raging, and you appeared as their savior, a halo of light projecting above you to cover your superb figure. you were beautiful and unrealistic like a work of art.

when you weren't expecting it, one of the men you had guessed to be the captain had lowered a boat. he was certainly tall and imposing, a long coat covering his entire frame, and immense leather boots with roughly tied laces on his feets as he approached you. he had a pistol stuck in his glistening and leathery belt, and above all an eye patch over his face. you took a look at the cross scar hidden in his shirt of which you only saw the scary top of the burned mark of the probably iron.

he rowed up to you, until you felt his scent replacing the salty smell of the sea. you quickly understood that there was nothing like the other men you had managed to charm. not unlike the others, this man seemed to be able to corrupt anyone, men and women, humans and mermaids alike.

he placed his boat near the rock to look at you more closely.

“didn’t your father warn you not to come near men like me? i’m sure he did gorgeous, i bet you’re just not smart enough to listen to him. ”

you backed away but he put his gun on the tip of your tail to stand you still, making you shake. “y’know what that means? I’m in charge here. ”

“let me go!” you responded, waving your tail limply, but he pushed his finger against the trigger of his gun to scare you.

"you'll leave when i decide. so stand still because from now, all your rules are made by me. ”

“you should fear my father, he will kill you.” you replied.

he laughed in a mocking tone, and moved closer to you with a smirk. “you could kill me too though, couldn’t you mermaid ? but look at you, shaking like prey ready to die by my hand.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“ is this a question or a wish ? or maybe a dirty mermaid fantasy ? ”

“i don’t want to die.”

“If that pretty mouth can sing like it does then it can beg too, don’t you think? If you want me to spare you, you’re gonna have to be a bit more convincing.”

he lowered his gaze towards your glossy and watery body, his weapon buried in the flesh of your stomach, before slightly moving up to your breasts, your nipples arching against the gun. you shivered at the contact of the metal against your skin.

he slid the gun up to your throat, pushing the barrel against your vocal cords. you coughed, and placed a hand around his.

he had sworn "oh fuck...legends don't tell all the things siren can do to a man…"

your webbed fingers, surrounded by tiny fins, had found their effect on him. you looked so sweet and innocent, but you were a creature who knew how to be machiavellian so he had to keep an eye on you.

“you don’t want to die?” he asked, repeating your words.

rafe was not a man of morals, he made fun of laws and conventions. and above all, why would he deprive himself when a beautiful mermaid was willing to do whatever he wanted just to be spared.

you were desperate, and frighteningly attractive. rafe would be lying if he said it didn't stimulate him. his cock was clearly hard and painfully stretched against the leather of his pants, forming a bulge just below his belt. and it was starting to be so uncomfortable. he only wanted one thing, it was to fill your soppy mouth surrounded by divine dripping lips until he felt your throat tighten around his dick, because his girth prevented the air from passing into your cavity.

oh yes rafe cameron was cruel. he wanted you to die, but in a completely different way.

and what he wanted, he got. he was a captain admired and respected by all and who had a high reputation both on the seas and on land. he was rich and miserly. he had as much money as he had girls.

he pulled down his pants, freeing his thick length to reveal it before your eyes. you'd be lying if you said you'd seen one before. It was the first time you saw something that big, it was terrifying. you didn't even know what this sailor wanted you to do with it so you looked at him with curious and desperate eyes.

oh that innocence burning in your gaze had shot a charge through rafe's body and his cock had twitched, letting precum drop on your face and the blood inside him completely heated.

"open your mouth...yes, like that. show me your tongue, i'll help you, gonna tell you how to do it.”

he had thrust himself into your mouth before giving you instructions, telling you how to make him feel good, while his dick found a way to your throat. you were even wetter inside than a real woman and it felt perfect and insane. you started to suck him, your lips vibrating around his throbbing girth that stuffed you real quick.his tip was slightly salty from the precum dripping from it that you had swallowed, making the ship captain above you groan.

pushed by his grunts and his tight grip through your hair, you pumped him faster because you were starting to understand how it worked. he never tired of your lips that foamed, and fully encircling his cock which as you licked got bigger and bigger, your naked tummy spiraling as the growing feeling.

with one hand, he had plunged himself completely into you, your head completely trapped between his firm fingers, and your nose buried in his pelvis. you gagged on him, a spurt of drool coming out of your mouth when he pulled out, as you gurgled strongly . your saliva hung from his glistening tip down the length of his hardened dick, all the way to his heavy balls.

he re-positioned himself inside you, his massive dick now dripping inside your soaked mouth as you continued to suck and lick with the fear knotting in your stomach of being killed. but you could feel that his body was relaxed, his muscles were loose, and you could hear every deep sound of pleasure coming from his lips.

he was both fascinated and over the moon, because your wetted tongue twirling around his hot cock was perfect. oh if he could have fucked you, he would have. he couldn't help but fantasize about how he would have fucked you on this rock, his large hands on your tits caged them like bra and pressing them against his thick fingers that would easily crushed them.

he also loved how your throat was so capricious, clenching around him while your tongue hungrily brushed his entire growing bulge. the feeling was intense, and you could hear his breaths become harsh.

that's what he liked about corruption, you were too good for him, a creature blessed by all the gods who had nothing to do with a mortal as rich as him, because you were too divine , too wonderful but at that moment, you were in the same rank. you were at his mercy.

you placed your wet hands on his hips, leaving trails of water on his body and impressive marks of whip that left scars on his skin. rafe could have sworn it was the gentlest touch in the world. the tiny fins around your fingers, tracing the straight line of his waist, down to his firm ass as you sucked him to death, drove him so crazy with your long soaked tongue that made him gasp.

and even if he was not a believer, he was convinced that heaven could not be so wonderful.

a few minutes later, his dick had convulsed around your mouth, and you felt large hot streams filling your throat down to your tummy. you swallowed, and he smiled before stroking your hair gently.

“ good job, little mermaid. don’t you deserve a reward for that ?”

you didn’t really know what that meant but you nodded.

he had taken a long pearl necklace from his pocket. “turn around. let me help you. ”

and you complied. he had hung the expensive and luxurious jewel around your neck, the length of which was so long that he had to make several turns until a hundred white pearls covered the entirety of your bust, dangling around your handsome tits.

“do you know what that means?”

you moved your head to say no, and he responded. “that now you belong to me. you’re my prized possession. you need to understand that now you can't leave. without me. ”

he had found a treasure and he was going to keep it. after all, he was a pirate, he stole everything the ocean had. and sirens were not an exception to the rules.

“i want to see my father.”

“mermaid, you are mine, and mine only.” he responded while caressing your soppy cheek. “ you don't need your dad anymore, just me. ”

you lifted your gaze to meet the most beautiful blue eyes you ever met. he was handsome as the devil, and you couldn’t deny it. but you were a mermaid, you belonged to the ocean, not to a man.

you tried to run away but he stopped you by placing his leather boot on your mermaid tail with a smirk, before leaning forward to grab you by the throat, your upper body was arched, his biceps caged your vocal cords tightly, his thick fingers pushed further in your mouth to forced you to behave, your drool dripping over your hanged jaw.

“what did I tell you about making silly moves, huh? behave, unless you want to die. you know what’ll happen if you act up? what you did earlier, with that pretty mouth, we’re gonna do it again. except this time instead of my cock, it’ll be my gun and if you stop, I shoot. And I know you don’t want that, right?”

" no…”

“ yea ? better to be alive. ”

you nodded. because it was true.

"now i have my men waiting for me. but don't worry, you're coming with me.”

“ that's a kidnapping — ”

“ do you think i care ? because listen to me, i don't fucking care. do you know what it means ? that you can pout, cry, scream, whatever tantrum you want to shout, it will not change anything. ”

you shivered when his hands stroked your shoulders, the icy metal of his silver rings brushing your skin. “ don't you want to be cherished ? see that world ? look up, because it can be yours. ”

“ you're not afraid that i can eat you ? ”

“ didn't you see my scars ? i fear nothing, even if you dig those canines in my skin, you will be the only one to be scared of what i can do to you. because babe, be mean to me, i dare you to, and i will be meaner. ”

“ where are your scars coming from, they're huge. and it's not sirens. ”

“oh, it’s a horrible story for a little mermaid like you. stick to your fairytales. so are you gonna come with me willingly or do we have to do things the hard way?”

“ sound like a trap. ”

“ sound like you're smart. ” he mocked.

“ i'm gonna follow you. but don't be too happy, my dad will find you before sunrise. so you're soon a dead man. ”

“ such a mean baby, already wishing that i'm dead. but careful, don't make me correct that mouth myself. it's not the kind of thing you will like. ”

“ because there is a good thing you can do with my mouth ? ” you were curious.

you turned your gaze toward him, and he lifted a brow, not believing your words. “ mermaid, you never kissed a man ? ”

“ show me what kissing is. ”

“ Why would I kiss the mouth that curses me ? ”

“ Should i ask those men on the ship? ”

because of his possessive side, categorically refusing to share you with his crew full of grotesque men, he had leaned down to grab your jaw and press his lips against yours.the feeling was so strange, but your mermaid tail was waving on the cold stone. “seems like you enjoy being kissed. ” he said, as his tongue swirled with yours. “ want to be kissed endlessly ? yea ? then don't make me repeat myself and move that fucking tail to the ship. ”

[cheralith]

runaway prince!gojo satoru thoughts...

a/n: gojo is pretty ooc in this im ngl sorry, heavily unedited, no reader in this (just yet?), is this a prologue? who knows.

runaway prince!satoru who is the crown prince of a kingdom that rules over an abundance of smaller territories. the sovereign gojo kingdom has many lands under its power, under its safety, and they've been known to be the voice of the little guys, guarding them against the more brutish, stronger countries that target them.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was so remarkable since birth, his face was enough to cause controversy amongst other kingdoms for their childrens' line in marriage to him. who didn't imagine themselves being not only a part of the gojo kingdom, but a part of the gojo family, especially to be wedded to prince satoru gojo.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was so apparent, that those who witnessed him as a young child thought of him to be a child of venus herself. white locks made of freshly fallen snow with piercing azure eyes that shimmered with mischief of some kind, it was impossible to not think he wasn't blessed of some divination of beauty.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was enough to almost start two wars against two countries who yearned to be a part of the mighty gojo kingdom. the two rival monarchs nearly called declared war on each other after arguing whose child got to marry the young prince—for not only was it the power of the gojo kingdom they desired, but to have a ruler whose face could calm the seas and skies themselves was a feat that only came once every four hundred years within their kingdom.

runaway prince!satoru whose face began to be hidden behind an opaque veil due to the hysterics that erupted from even one glance a the prince's face. deciding ignorance was bliss, his parents began shielding his face at the tender age of twelve from the public and the castle staff to avoid conniption. his parents also decided it'd be best to shield him away from the outside world until they thought it was ready for him to be crowned king.

runaway prince!satoru whose rumors about him were not unnoticed by the prince as the years flew by. rumors about him being secluded from the public were for a good reason—and though they varied from person to person, all of the rumors revolved around one singular aspect.

runaway prince!satoru whose face was thought to be absolutely horrid, that the queen and kingdom thought best to shield its monstrosity from the outside world. whose face was rumored to be ghastly enough that it'd make ladies faint and babies cry. some say he had a large green boil on his nose that never popped, even though it looked like it was on the verge of doing so. some say all his teeth rotted from all the sugar he ate as a child, corroded and blackened. regardless of what the rumors said, rarely anyone thought the opposite of them. the king and queen took a likening to the rumors, thinking that they would gear away anyone who would pounce on their son for the sake of power.

runaway prince!satoru who saw the world through white lace more than half his life, who rarely ever saw the world outside of the palace gates, leapt at every opportunity to see the world for what it was outside his kingdom. so when a trip to a coastal town that threatened to be under siege from a rival kingdom emerged, his bags were already at the ready.

runaway prince!satoru who was used to being greeted by the waves and confused looks of the many people below his ship as it boarded the docks of the coastal village. careless of what they heard about them, his only concern was that he was able to breathe air that wasn't of his kingdom from the mainland. the fresh salted air rebirthed life again into him, and though he could admire the sea through the fence-like pattern of his veil, it was still a sight he took in with a full heart.

runaway prince!satoru who quietly admired the nightlife of the coastal village's people from the tower of the palazzo of the town's chancellor as his parents talked with him downstairs about obtaining the land under their rule for his peoples' safety. below, he watched as a mother tugged along her son from the display of toys in a window, laughing softly as he escaped from her grasp and pressed his face against the pane. a young waitress looked behind her to see if anyone was watching and sneaked outback to an alley and gave a homeless man a plate full of food. a suited man gingerly held an elderly woman by her shoulders and carefully helped her across a bustling street.

runaway prince!satoru who watched the lights of the lanterns flickering about and the soft music echoing in the nightfall with people dancing to the beat of them. a desire to be amongst them pulled at his heartstrings, and he imagined himself, not as the crown prince of the gojo kingdom, but as their fellow citizen, as their fellow neighbor, as their friend.

runaway prince!satoru who glowered at his reflection in the mirror of the guest room. the veil temporarily off and brushed to the side, he stared at his ivory locks and porcelain skin, the sky that held itself within his eyes. with an allure that most would kill to have, he gritted his teeth, cursing it to be the cause of his sheltering, his isolation.

runaway prince!satoru who caught the gaze of the fireplace in the reflection of the mirror, but noticed not the wispy embers of gold and yellow, but rather the pile of black ashes from the wood and kindling. walking slowly towards it and dipping his fingers, he stared at the onyx fingerprint on his fingertip and rubbed it between his other fingers, now stained as well black.

runaway prince!satoru who carefully reached up to a spare lock of his hair and rubbed the onyx powder on the ends of it, amazed how easily it coated the pallid white a darkened ebony. a flurry of apprehension and excitement stirred within him as he whipped his head to the window that faced the village's people and to the door leading to the inside of the chancellor's palazzo. satoru leapt to his feet and pressed his ear to his door, making sure no one was nearby before locking it and pushing a bookshelf up against it.

runaway prince!satoru who picked up a pile of ash between his hands and shuffled it between his hair, tainting it as dark as the night. embedding the ash fittingly between each strand of hair so that not a strike of white was seen, satoru gazed at his new appearance inside the mirror. the locks of pearl were long gone and replaced with familiar charcoal black that many citizens of his own kingdom adorned.

runaway prince!satoru who cleaned the spare sprinkles of ashes from his face with water from the bathroom and tore off his handmade clothes with symbols of regality, scurrying about the dressers of clothes and plucking out seemingly "ordinary" clothes to wear.

runaway prince!satoru who crawled over the ledge of his window, but not before looking back to the barricaded door and whispering "just this once..." before climbing down and taking off into the night.

a/n: i'm gonna be so fr, i really don't know what's to become of this in the future. obviously yes, reader will be a character in the story, but for now, i have yet to decide if i'll just follow this format or if i'll actually write a fully fledged story about this.

i've mentioned this prompt before, but this idea has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, possibly over a year and a half. it's heavily inspired by roman holiday (1953) with a dash of princess and the frog (2009) and i do think it has so much potential that i might just write about it properly! i feel as though it's too good of a prompt to not. stay tuned question mark? (i say that as though i'm not staying tune for myself as well augh!)

if you do manage to stay and watch me bullshit whatever i have in mind, there will be much more involvement of reader, trust! but thank you for reading regardless!

[ira-hydrangea]

Twisted Sugar Realm Masterlist

You can find your journey progress here along with some other notes. If you forget something, feel free to ask me in inbox.

The journey to Sugarveil Haven is not an easy one. Only after passing the several trials from the other kingdom will a traveler be granted entry into the kingdom. However, for those who succeed, Sugarveil Haven offers not just answers but the possibility to change the fate of the realms

Whenever it be through uncovering the truth behind the Chosen Cookie or learning how to combat the rising darkness threatening to consume all. It is a place where secrets are revealed, but only to those brave enough to face the challenges set before them.

Prologue {How The story Begin}

The Crystal Shards {Explanation}

The Bestowal of Crystal Shards to 7 Protectors {World building}

Crimson Tartland

A kingdom of strict order and absolute law, where every citizen must follow the Crimson Court’s unyielding rules. The land is adorned with dark berry tarts and thorny crimson roses, symbolizing both beauty and punishment. Those who defy the laws risk being judged by the Crimson Judge and his enforcers, with no chance for mercy.

Backstory + Crimson Court

The 5 Cookies of Crimson Court

Prologue

Chapter {1} {2}

Cinnamon Dune

A vast desert kingdom where golden cinnamon sands swirl under an eternal, sunlit sky. Ruled by a merchant-king, this realm thrives on trade, treasure, and fate, where fortunes can change as quickly as the shifting dunes. However, behind its wealth and charm, ancient secrets and long-buried curses lurk beneath the sands.

Backstory

Molasses Abyss

A dark, enigmatic kingdom submerged in the depths of a midnight-hued sea of molasses. Those who dare enter must navigate its eerie, ever-changing labyrinth of syrupy tides, ruled by a cunning sovereign who thrives in mystery and secrets. It is said that nothing enters Molasses Abyss without being rewritten by its depths—including fate itself.

Backstory

Gilded Sugar Oasis

A kingdom of opulence and grandeur, where golden rivers of honey flow through palatial gardens. It is a paradise of luxury, ruled by a benevolent yet extravagant ruler who believes happiness is best found in riches and indulgence. Yet, the land’s golden façade hides a delicate balance—too much excess, and even the sweetest dreams can turn bitter.

Backstory

Crystallized Belle

A breathtaking realm of shimmering sugar-crystal formations, where light refracts into dazzling colors. The kingdom is a place of perfection and beauty, ruled by a sovereign who seeks to sculpt a flawless utopia. However, beneath its ethereal glow, some whisper that those who cannot meet its high standards simply... disappear.

Backstory

Candied Circuit

A mechanized metropolis of endless gears, where electricity crackles through neon-lit sugar roads. In this futuristic kingdom, progress and invention never stop, ruled by a genius leader who seeks to push the limits of technology. But with each innovation comes sacrifices, and some wonder if this ever-moving city is truly alive or merely running on pre-programmed perfection.

Backstory

Eclipsed Sugar Hollow

A twilight kingdom veiled in eternal dusk, where the stars glisten like powdered sugar against the indigo sky. Magic and mystery intertwine in this realm, ruled by an enigmatic sovereign whose powers are whispered to be as ancient as the land itself. Though it appears serene, many fear that something powerful slumbers within the Hollow—waiting to awaken.

Backstory

The Sugarveil Haven

The final sanctuary hidden deep within the Twisted Sugar Realm, shrouded in a mystical veil that only the worthy may pass through. Said to be the purest and most sacred land, this kingdom is the heart of ancient magic, where the Chosen Cookie bestowed the fabled Crystal Shards. However, one cannot reach Sugarveil Haven easily—only those who have overcome the trials of the other kingdoms may set foot within its hallowed grounds.

Backstory

[b1adie]

The undefeated. The sovereign of all battles. The king of Castrum Kremnos, the throne upon a mountain of corpses, the father of victory. The usurper of glories, the lightning that split the sea, the Guardian of Amphoreus, the Titan of Strife, Nikador.

— THE GIVER, MASTER OF LEGIONS, LANCE OF FURY —

[incorrect-koh-posts]

Masterlist of KoH-related Novels

Below you'll find a list of every novel I know of that is set in the same period as Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven (2005), covers at least some of the same events and features some or all of the historical figures that also appear in the film. The list will be updated occasionally as I work my way through. Enjoy!

✷ English-language novels & novels available in translation

1879: Lady Sibyl's Choice (Emily Sarah Holt) -> thoughts

1937: The Leper King (Zofia Kossak, originally published in Polish) -> thoughts

1954: Knight Crusader (Ronald Welch)

1965: The Wandering Unicorn (Manuel Mujica Lainez, originally published in Spanish) -> thoughts

1969: The Knights of Dark Renown (Graham Shelby) -> thoughts

1989: Alamut (Judith Tarr)

1991: The Dagger and the Cross (Judith Tarr)

1992: Pagan's Crusade (Catherine Jinks)

1996: Jerusalem (Cecelia Holland) -> thoughts

1998: The Book of Saladin (Tariq Ali)

1998 - 2000: Arn the Knight Templar series (Jan Guillou, originally published in Swedish)

The Road to Jerusalem (1998)

The Knight Templar (1999)

The Kingdom at the End of the Road (2000)

2004: Crusader King (Susan Peek)

2006: Sand Daughter (Sarah Bryant)

2007: The Leper Crown (George Morgan)

2009 - 2021: The Magdalen Cycle series (Scott R. Rezer)

#1: The Leper King (2009)

#2: The Pawns of Sion (2015)

#3: The Gambit Queen (2021)

2011: The King's Witch (Cecelia Holland)

2011 - 2013: Saladin trilogy (Jack Hight)

Eagle (2011)

Kingdom (2012)

Holy War (2013)

2011 - 2023: The Last King of Legends series (Serafia Cross)

#1: The Kingmakers (2011)

#2: In the Face of Trials (2012)

#3: The Sovereign Gambit (2015)

#4: The King's Last Deeds (2023)

2012 - 2017: Outremer Chronicles series (Peter Tolladay)

#1: The Templar's Apprentice (2012)

#2: The Harsh Mistress (2014)

#3: The Thorn in the Crown (2016)

2014 - 2016: Balian d'Ibelin series (Helena P. Schrader) -> thoughts

#1: Knight of Jerusalem (2014)

#2: Defender of Jerusalem (2015)

#3: Envoy of Jerusalem (2016)

2018: Templar Silks (Elizabeth Chadwick)

2018 - 2020: The Brotherhood series (K. M. Ashman)

#1: Templar Steel (2018)

#2: Templar Stone (2019)

#3: Templar Blood (2020)

2018 - 2023: Watchers of Outremer series (Suzannah Rowntree)

#2: The Lady of Kingdoms (2019)

#5: The House of Mourning (2023)

2020: The Leper King (Peter Busby)

2020: The Land Beyond the Sea (Sharon Kay Penman) -> thoughts

✷ Non-English novels not available in translation:

1959: L'Étoile de Pourpre (Serge Dalens & Pierre Joubert, French comic)

1999 - 2017: Die Templerin series (Wolfgang & Rebecca Hohlbein, German)

#3: Die Rückkehr der Templerin (2004)

#4: Das Wasser des Lebens (2008)

#5: Das Testament Gottes (2011)

#6: Das Band des Schicksals (2017)

2002: Thibaut ou la Croix Perdue (Juliette Benzoni, French)

2007: Las Lanzas de Jerusalén (Georges Bordonove, Spanish)

2019: Die Assassinin (Alexandra Cavelius, German)

✷ Tangentially related:

1946: mentions of KoH characters in The World is not Enough (Zoé Oldenbourg)

1997: Queen of Swords (Judith Tarr), about Baldwin's grandmother Melisende

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been Dreaming... Masterlist

This is a collection of entries for the I've been Dreaming... event which occurred from February 2024 to March 2024. Each one centers around the theme of “dreams” and the names were mainly derived from the special player titles you receive once you own 10 unique cards of that particular character.

Please note that these may contain main story spoilers. The Ignihyde and Diasomnia prompts, for example, contain many book 7 spoilers. However, please note that these were written BEFORE part 117+ in book 7 was released; therefore, the dreams here are my own guesses/interpretations of what may be shown and are not entirely accurate to the game.

These pieces were not request-based; it was a countdown style writing prompt challenge for myself. Please do not send me dream prompt requests; I will not accept them.

Heartslabyul

Trump Card of Hearts

Spearman of Spades

Spectator of Diamonds

Loyalist of Clubs

Rose-Red Ruler

Savanaclaw

Lone Wolf

Savanna Cleaner

Ambitious King

Octavinelle

Undersea Marauder

Undersea Advisor

Deep Sea Tactician

Scarabia

Plotting Serpent

Benevolent Sovereign of the Oasis

Pomefiore

Indomitable Poison Apple

Hunter of Love

Unrivaled Beauty

Ignihyde

Guardian of the Underworld

King of the Underworld

Diasomnia

Knight of Lightning

Knight of Dreams

Seeker of Cradles

Ruler of the Abyss

Bonus

First Friend

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Qor'ivel, Faulted Brilliance

An extradimensional mage who sought godhood only to have his ambition literally blow up in his face, the shrapnel of this calamitous act of hubris is now scattered across the planes, just waiting to be discovered.

Being born to rule an empire was not enough for this genius mage, who bent his talents and the strength of his nation to establishing dominion across the whole of his world, and then to other worlds beyond.

As the product of generations of careful mutagenic engineering and magical enhancement, the depths of Qor'ivel's intelligence seemed to truly be fathomless. Through reason alone he seemed to be able to divine the innermost thoughts of his enemies and the outcome of future events, to say nothing of his arcane abilities. It took him only a decade to establish his rule over multiple planes, and in another five years he'd calculated a path to cement that rule through godhood that'd take just under a century.

He was wrong of course, you don't need to be a genius to know that there's more to being a god than being the most right all the time. The brilliant mechanism of Qor'ivel's mind realized that truth a fraction of a second before it ruptured like a collapsing star, distroying the world that was the seat of his empire and scattering fragments of his consciousness across the multiverse. Now Frozen in the moment of his failed apotheosis he exists as a mad titan rampaging across the cosmos, fleeting moments of lucidity drowned out by amnesic empire building or senseless cataclysmic fury.

Adventure Hooks:

Qor'ivel makes a great archvillain for a spelljammer campaign or any adventure that's going to touch on the astral sea. The ruins of his empire are a great backdrop and his mindshards can end up anywhere, influencing anyone, acting as mcguffins when needed. His changeable nature means he can serve as both scheming mastermind and looming apocalyptic threat, and the factions that want to ensure he stays one or the other make for great secondary antagonists.

Though they might be mistaken for any run of the mill sort of glowing magical crystal, the shards of Qor'ivel have a power all their own, still somewhat alive possessing fragments of the great mage's consciousness and the power it commands. They can function like any sort of magic item, though usually wands or ioun stones, though creatures that attune to them tend to start thinking and acting a lot more like the sundered sovereign, indulging in pride, power and imperial ambition. The more powerful shards possess fragmented consciousnesses of their own, and may use proxies to set up petty dynasties of their own.

Once governors, aristocrats, and magistrates of a worlds spanning empire, the remnants of the Vaqol people and their decendants found themselves in a lurch when their god-king detonated and took their homeworld with him. Many were cast out by the peoples they had subjugated, while others hid themselves away or made themselves useful to the ascendant regimes. In the present day a fraction of these remnants still hold loyalty to the faulted brilliance, or follow his example in using their magical talent to set up their own dominions.

Fragments of the Vaqol homeworld drift through the multiverse, sometimes as reefs of rubble, sometimes as wordlets, sometimes as streaking projectiles that make calamitous impact on other planes. Adventurers of all kinds can be tasked with hiring , though whether its those wishing to recover/collect ancient artifacts, or lay their hands on Qor'ivel shards is up to you.

Artsource

[fallingstarsandthemoon]

Cookie Run x MCYT AU-ANCIENTS, anybody?

Feel free to send in asks and requests for this AU alongside my other AUs! Fanart is welcomed WITH CREDIT!

This is a little creative project I’ve been working on for a couple months now, (I usually draw faster than that, but procrastination is a bitch and some of these were hard to design due to it being a stark contrast from the usual style I have,) but I’m proud I got the ancients out of the way, whom I decided would be OG MCYTs. Here are their mock in-game descriptions:

Diamond Cookie (DanTDM)- Perseverance:

In a dark, yet lively, effervescent cave leagues below the surface, a radiant diamond cluster, naturally forged by the thickest molten sugar and pressure to withstand almost anything, surfaced within the cave. Little did it know that it would become the main ingredient to a legend. Diamond Cookie sticks true to his resistant and valuable ingredients as well as the Soul Jam of Perseverance, believing if something isn’t working out, try, try again. As a  past scientist, engineer, adventurer, and now a hero, he’s had several mishaps and failures over the years, but he still picks himself up again and keeps moving, seeking to help inspire others to push forward and make something new out of the broken and old.

Even if he or everything he’s ever loved is crumbling around him, he’ll fight to the bitter end.

Berry Soda Cookie (LDshadowlady)- Empathy:

Among the shimmering sands, the vibrant coral reefs, and the open blue, there lives a guardian and a master of the waves and tides, wielding a glittering trident and the Soul Jam of Empathy. Berry Soda Cookie, baked with a myriad of berries and having lived on both land and sea, she has a vast understanding of other’s distress and feelings. If there’s worry or a change in the usual nature of her domain, she’ll be the first to know about it. She loves getting to know about every perspective and lifestyle she can. She has eyes all over the ocean wherever the light touches, from the shallows to the deep blue, and tends to act as a mediator in most situations. She’ll do everything she can to keep a stable balance. That is, until that fateful day that caused her to retreat into the darkest depths of the sea.

Will her soul ever see the light once more?

Golden Cream Cookie (Stampy)-Compassion:

Baked with the sweetest and richest of merengue and cream, Golden Cream Cookie has a compassionate spirit for his denizens like no other, hence his Soul Jam. While he can’t exactly read minds, he always does his best to help those in distress. After all, his kingdom among the plains and forest is known for their bustling trade of goods and services. Despite being a king, he’ll help those communities in even the lowest of classes. He does have a tendency to overwork himself or sometimes misinterpret the cookies’ needs, but it doesn’t change the fact that he has a heart of gold. He promotes mutualism and color in life and strives for himself and others to leave Earthbread better than they came. He forgives many for their wrongdoings and does his best to guide them to fix it.

Even so, there’s always the hard truth to face that he can’t help or forgive everyone.

Cherry Choco Cookie (Captain Sparklez)- Harmony:

There stands a calm, solid, rhythmic presence at the center of the Chocolate Citadel. With a rose golden crown adorning his head and his Charred Cherryblade by his side, Cherry Choco Cookie firmly believes there’s harmony and unity in all things, hence his Soul Jam of Harmony. Where there’s chaos? There’s order. Where there’s death, life is sure to come in its steed. He was baked with the sweetest cherries and the most bitter cacao after all. In a way, it’s a miracle how he worked his way up from being just some bard to an expert swordsman and a king. He’s a soul of few words, but he means well, and he’s just as musically inclined as most of his kingdom.

Where has this sovereign of harmony gone? What has he seen?

Pure Iris Cookie (Aphmau) - Creativity:

There’s nobody who understands the diversity of talent more than the bold and energetic Pure Iris Cookie. Born from the petals of a perfect iris at the rebirth of summer, she started out as a simple mage who encouraged cookies to forge their own paths. She believes everyone has something they’re good at, no matter how common or rare, and that anything can be made into something special. No wonder her garden kingdom was a capital of the arts in Crispia. All cookies have to do is find their spark, which can be easier said than done at times, but the end result is what matters. She’d give anything to get the same glory of her old kingdom back… whether it be the petal feathers off her back or her own life…

She won’t fail them again. Over her crumbled dough and withered petals.

[comparativetarot]

Roi de Coupes. Art by Matthew Meyer, from Tarot Yōkai.

カップの王 WANI The Wani is a sea monster that reigns over the oceans: it lives in underwater coral palaces and is the undisputed sovereign of the marine world. The King of Cups represents the control and absolute mastery of our emotional and creative world. We are able to recognize our feelings, listen to them and accept them without being overwhelmed by them. Upright: emotional balance, compassion, diplomacy. Symbol of masculine energy and authority, the King of Cups illustrates emotional maturity, even in the face of adversity. We have total control of our inner world. The appearance of this King is an invitation to firmly preserve our limits, to understand what is to be accepted and what is to be avoided on an emotional level. Reversed: emotional manipulation, mood swings, inner feelings. Reversed, this card highlights the need for greater control over our emotions; we are always at the mercy of inner turmoil and upheaval that can harm our well-being. The reversed King of Cups can also reveal excessive repression of our feelings and distancing ourselves from others. In its most complex form, the reversed King of Cups indicates a particularly vindictive and manipulative person.

[tired-creator-sagau-au]

Beginning of the journey

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

In every godlings lives there comes a time, when they want to leave The Core World, travel through Sea of Chaos and, after analyzing, absorbing and purifying enough Chaos energy, create their own world.

You weren't an exception.

When time came, you did goodbye to your siblings, and left Core World, taking a dive in the Sea of Chaos, in a vortex of black and any possible colors.

__________

During your journey, you found Blazing Echoes of a World. World, that supposed to be inhabited by dragons.

It looks like some of your siblings got bored and abandoned that world. They left, and The Sigil of Freedom blazed in the dead sky of the stagnated world. Right above the heads of the world inhabitants.

You were curious. You talked to them.

You tell them one of your names.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Nice sounding name. You choose this name. You like this name.

Dragon king called himself Nibelung. He liked the sound of his name. He said, that he choose this name. He liked this name.

You quickly formed a bond with dragons.

But you wanted to move forward.

You wanted your own world. Finishing this one sounded as a terrible idea.

You gave dragon a choice.

You left.

And you took every last dragon with you.

__________

Teyvat was doing great.

World, where humans and dragons lived in peace.

Nibelung, your good friend, ruled over dragons, with help from Seven Sovereign.

You ruled over non-dragons. You joked with Nibelung about appointing your own Seven Sovereign. It will end up in playful banter and laughs.

You do appoint seven guardians. One for each nation, that were fine with you being on the throne.

There were independent groups. They didn't want to be directly under your command. You let them. As long as they don't do anything terrible, they were free to live their lives in their own way.

The world was blazing with life.

Humans were close to forming nations. They were happy. You gave him anything they want. You let them live their lives.

Dragons were a part of humans' lives. As friends, as companions, as protectors.

You, Nibelung, Seven Sovereign and your squad of warriors were making sure, they Teyvat grow strong.

_____________

So why did Teyvatians betrayed you and Nibelung?

_____________

Teyvat was young. The barrier, that protected New World from the Sea of Chaos, was still fragile. So, when news about Breakthrough reached you and Nibelung, you weren't surprised.

Of course, you have Protection Charms in Teyvat. They supposed to turn into stone anything Unpurified from Chaos.

But you can't just lazy around, while there is a threat of Corruption.

You and Nibelung went to the Break.

You remember scar-like crack in the barrier.

You remember the trap, that leads you and Nibelung to be soaked in the gooey waters of Sea of Chaos.

You remember, how your own charm turned you and Nibelung into stone statues.

And how people of Teyvat circled around you two.

You recognized them. Most of them were from independent groups. Others were from seven groups.

They were few in comparison to all inhabitants of Teyvat.

But it was their fury, that trapped you and Nibelung.

_________

You stopped counting days.

You stopped counting, how many times they were extracting your life forces, while you and Nibelung were trapped in stone.

You stopped counting, how many times you begged them to stop killing you and Nibelung.

You might be trapped, but you still were connected to Teyvat.

You felt wars, that tore through Teyvat.

Against dragons.

Against each other.

And your captors used powers, that they stole from you, to destroy, how people view you.

In their eyes, you and Nibelung became tyrants and monsters.

__________

“They are nothing, but two tyrants!” your captors' eyes were full of hatred. They despised you for existing. For not being human.

“You were on the throne for a hundred years! It’s already too much!”

“Why are you hiding knowledge from The Void outside Teyvat? Why you make that spell, that turned everything, that came from outside Teyvat's borders turn into stone?

“You will only bring calamities!”

You were so tired…

_________

When your warriors finally found you two, your captors fled.

You were rescued.

You and Nibelung was finally free.

And Teyvat has no place for you two.

There was no place for Creator [Y/N].

There was no place for Dragon King Nibelung.

You were so tired…

You saw it in Nibelung's eyes.

He was tired.

His dragons were banished.

His Sovereigns have fallen.

Your people were afraid of you.

Your people hated you.

With flap of wings, you two flew away.

But, despite everything, you still loved Teyvat.

You left books, that let people, who wrote in them, reach you directly.

You left guards that would protect Teyvat. You order them not to kill people of Teyvat. Not to punish them for wrongdoing of others.

That day, Creator and Their Dragon left Teyvat.

______________

Few thousands years later

______________

Nibelung carefully walked down the corridor of your Palace. Despite being able to transform into human form ever since you two left Teyvat, he still wasn't used to move on two legs.

He approached the giant door. Door to Sanctuary, where you kept The Book of Teyvat.

You weren't delusional, you knew, that people of Teyvat hate you. Still, you were Creator. You hopped, that one day they will reach out to you.

With one shove from Nibelung, the door was opened. Former king saw your figure. You were looking at the open pages of the Book of Teyvat.

Nibelung sighs and walked towards you.

"Guardian... [Y/N], you really should stop spending most of your time here. Empty pages won't be filled."

You raise your head and looked at your old friend. Your lips barely moved.

"They aren't empty anymore."

Nibelung froze. He moved forward, standing now behind you. Draconic eyes stare on the text written on the page.

Someone named Cosanzeana wrote to you. No, she wrote in one of the Message Books you left, as it as a simple diary. Of course, it was delivered straight to you.

"What is melusine?" finally spoke Nibelung. You shook your head.

"I have no idea."

You took a pen you keep on the desk, where is the Book of Teyvat was kept.

You have some writing to do.

___________

You have been "talking" to melusines for a month. Cosanzeana shared "cute talking book" with her sisters. They shared news with you, asked you questions and answered yours.

And you don't really like some answers.

Hilichurls, abyss, prophesy, Fatui...

Something was deeply wrong with Teyvat.

And it was your duty to save it.

_____________

You and Nibelung were standing before The Gate. Behind it was your world, your Teyvat.

"I am not delusional." whispered you. Nibelung moved closer to you.

"I knew, that what we will do won't change, how they saw us." continue you. Nibelung

g hummed.

"But, despite everything, above all else, my duty lies with all of them." you sigh.

"Our duty, my old friend." spoke Nibelung.

You shared one last glance and stepped into The Gate.

This day, a tired Creator and their dragon returned to Teyvat.

[collapsedsquid]

Re: the sovereign individual worldwide revolution, etc

Yeah, you're sadly not wrong. I don't think I have the qualifications to immigrate to the EU anyway (bachelors degree, 5 digit net worth, experience mainly in manual labor and sales skills that don't translate outside the anglosphere), but even "cool my heels in SEA while all hell breaks loose" is seeming less workable. Have considered teaching English in China on and off over the years, but I think that ship has definitely sailed.

Sadly, it may be a "fight them here so nobody else has to fight them anywhere else" type scenario. And I'd be a hypocrite if I turned and ran rather than helping my parents hold onto the family farmhouse and little piece of the Midwest. Gotta stand for something, I suppose.

I wish this problem hadn't come in our time, Gandalf

to torschlusspanikattack:

Tech right is scarier due to scale of intended operations and oppression.

The Religious right wants to make it 1952 again, oppress queer people, and make everyone else LARP as Southern Baptists. Obviously, this would suck, but I grew up in a red state, as a secretive agnostic, and it's survivable. It wasn't ideal, I ended up with weird neuroses about being horny for women (despite being a straight cis man) and at least one of the lesbian girls in my school got beaten up by her teammates for being gay. Many things sucked, but we made it through, and many people were more tolerant than you'd expect.

Queer culture would have to go back underground, probably centering in bluer cities where the authorities would turn a relatively blind eye to it, some really fucked up stuff would happen around abortion rights, but I'm not foreseeing death camps for gay people or anything of that nature. And religious right-ists are barely even racist, as long as you're vocally Christian.

Trad/racial Right wants to make it 1952 again, have lots and lots of cops, put more people in jail, end immigration, and do DEI for white people. Obviously, many of the outcomes of this would be shitty and cause lots of suffering, but again, we made it through 1952, we'd survive. There are some legitimate death-camp Nazis in there, but I don't think that subset would outweigh the rest, even if the were to operate unopposed. Yes, the rate of hate crimes would go up, and it would likely be very dangerous for some people, but the will to do extermination just isn't there.

The Yarvin/Thiel/etc crew are fucking insane, and want to institute a regime that would repress or outright kill significant percentages of the population. It'd be feudalism without the mitigation of any sense of noblesse oblige, church ideas of duty to the poor, and the economic need to at least keep the peasants alive to harvest the crops. If they ever have AI that can do significant amounts of work for them, why would they keep the rest of us around?

That last part is slightly fearmongering, I'm really going through it lately, and don't get me wrong, there are LGBT people and minorities in my family that I'd be afraid for no matter what. But the tech-"libertarians" are seriously enemies of humanity at large. I'd take my chances with Mussolini or most medieval kings over them. The whole ideology is Pol Pot, Hitler, etc. levels of dangerous.

@torschlusspanikattack

[sleepnowmychild]

Prayers and hymns to Hypnos:

Anytime I find one in a book or site about ancient texts, I save it for later use. So here’s what I’ve collected so far.

Orphic Hymn 85 to Hypnos (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.) :
"To Hypnos, Fumigation from Poppies. Hypnos, king of Gods, and men of mortal birth, sovereign of all, sustained by mother earth; for thy dominion is supreme alone, over all extended, and by all things known. 'Tis thine all bodies with benignant mind in other bands than those of brass to bind. Tamer of cares, to weary toil repose, and from whom sacred solace in affliction flows. Thy pleasing gentle chains preserve the soul, and even the dreadful cares of death control; for Thanatos, and Lethe with oblivious stream, mankind thy genuine brothers justly deem. With favouring aspect to my prayer incline, and save thy mystics in their works divine."

Statius, Silvae 5. 4. 1 (Roman poetry C1st A.D.) :
*prayer by an Insomiac

O youthful Somnus, gentlest of the gods, by what crime or error of mine have I deserved that I alone should lack thy bounty? Silent are all the cattle, and the wild beasts and the birds, and the curved mountain summits have the semblance of weary slumber, nor do the raging torrents roar as they were wont; the ruffled waves have sunk to rest, and the sea leans against earth's bosom and is still. Seven times now hath the returning moon beheld my fixed and ailing eyes; so often have the lights of Oeta and Paphos revisited me, so oft hath Tithonia passed by my groans, and pitying sprinkled me with her cool whip. Ah! how may I endure? Not if I had the thousand eyes of sacred Argus, which he kept but in alternate watchfulness, nor even waked in all his frame at once. But now--ah, me!--if some lover through the long hours of night is clasping a girl's entwining arms, and of his own will drives thee from him, come thence, O Somnus! Nor do I bid thee shower all the influence of thy wings upon my eyes--that be the prayer of happier folk!--touch me but with thy wand's extremest tip--'tis enough--or pass over me with lightly hovering step."

By Sophocles in Philoctetes:

''Divine Hypnos, god who knows no pain, Hypnos, stranger to anguish, come in favour to us, come happy, and giving happiness, great King! Keep before his eyes such light as is spread before them now. Come to him, I pray you, come with power to heal!''

[radaedan]

Turns out I lied again😁 I lied so much, you guys better call me Focalors lmao (just dont behead me😅). However, perhaps this is going to be my last post before I go hiatus... hopefully.

I think Xiuhcoatl had some blame on the fall of the Natlan Dragon civilization.

"Wtf Radaedan??? You're literally the Xiuhcoatl's no.1 simp??? How could you say something like this about him???" Hey we love someone, we have to accept all of them, flaws and all. Plus, it doesn't make him less undeserving of everything that happened to him. To me, it just show how tragic my beloved Sovereign is🥲

Okay, for starter, let me remind you about the conversation of Xiuhcoatl & Kukulkan first. In the quest "Sealed Site of Sacrifice", we get a memory of Kukulkan during the finale of Astral Assamblages' construction, in which Xiuhcoatl & Kukulkan conversed about the 'right-or-wrong' of Xiuhcoatl's method.

And following it, in "The Forsaken Sea of Wisdom" quest, Xiuhcoatl & Kukulkan conversed regarding the Huitzilopochtli & the first experiment of The Astral Assamblages. The devices, as Kukulkan said it, "must be activated and actively attached to serve as countermeasures against corruption. Before they are completely warped by the Abyss, they will self-destruct and eliminate its influence." And Xiuhcoatl planned to be its lab rat, because, "...if nothing else, this decrepit body may still serve in this manner." (My king...😭)

But the following conversation is the crutch of my debate:

Xiuhcoatl created the Huitzilopochtli because he believed that there's no other way but total phlogistonization of life to save his kind from the Abyss. In this world of his, name has no meaning. Self has no meaning. Nothing truly matters exist. And we have seen the power of Huitzilopochtli, no? In the alternate ending of the quest finale. The existence that our Little one endured, that near-eternal, limitless white of nothingness, with nothing tangible and the self in agony.

However, I think that is not exactly what our Sovereign aimed. When Xiuhcoatl spoke of the Huitzilopochtli, he envisioned that all dragons will lose their sense of self, and became one. His vision is more akin to the concept of Human Instrumentality of Evangelion, rather than the white nothingness we see later.

Whether the white agony our Little One endured is a mistake in his grand plan or not, we'll talk about it later. This time, I want you to get this sink in: Xiuhcoatl regarded that losing your individuality, memories, your sense of self, and merged with other all your kind, is better than being swallowed by the Abyss.

With how Kukulkan yapped about how "dragons have reached an evolutionary stalemate" & Xiuhcoatl's own concept about the Huitzilopochtli, it seems it is safe to say that this whole thing is inspired from the Evangelion's Human Instrumentality Project.

For those who don't know, this is the simplest run-down of the show that I can think of: Human Instrumentality Project aims to eradicate the barrier of individuality in all humans. Humanity would transform into a sea of collective consciousness. Everyone would have access to each other's thoughts, memories, and self. There's no individuality, uniqueness, sense of self, because everyone is one. You are everyone and everyone are you, at the same time.

In the Neon Genesis Evangelion Proposal, the Human Instrumentality Project is described as "a plan to save humanity, which has reached an evolutionary stalemate." Kinda similar to Kukulkan's words, no?

"Okay Radaedan, all of that yap, but what does it means to your argument?" It means A LOT. Because in Evangelion itself, the narrative rejects this project.

You see, the characters of Evangelion are... miserable, to say the least. The main core of the show isn't the Sci-Fi attacks or what, it is human connection. Our characters struggles or suffer from it. The father of the mc, and arguably the antagonist of the show, Gendo Ikari, put his son, the people around him, and all humanity through all the shitshow to achieve the Human Instrumentality. Why?

To reunite with his wife, Yui.

This is not a traditional romance, mind you. Gendo HATES himself. He doesn't have a sense of worth, found his existence only hurts the people around him, and afraid of human connection, because he believed he couldn't form it. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy, in a way. He's distant from his son, Shinji, because he believed he could only hurt him. Yui is his sanctuary, the only person whom accepted him as he is, the only one Gendo could form a connection with without the fear of hurting her or himself. When Yui is gone (not actually really gone but that's another matter entirely) he did all of bullshit to reunite with her. However, when his plan is about to be fulfilled at last-

Yui rejects him. And confronted his wrongdoings, his treatment to their son, and his deepest fears.

She killed him, not giving him a chance to join the sea of collective consciousness.

Gendo wanted to forego his individuality to feel safe. Yui rejected that. She wanted him to own his mistakes, wished him to form a connection with their son and have hopes for humanity. He didn't, so she killed him.

"Yet another yap😭" JUST STAY WITH ME. This is important to my point.

Now let's turn to Shinji, the mc. Just judging from his father's situation, you could see that this boy suffers immensely. I shall not name his other miseries or how he managed to do it, but you see, in the end, he was thrust into the responsibility of activating the Human Instrumentality Project.

For a depressed person, the Human Instrumentality Project sounds... nice, in a way. You need not to suffer. Everyone understands you, because everyone is you. You need not to feel fear of human interactions, because everyone is you. You need not to be yourself, because everyone is you.

Shinji has a chance to not suffer.

And he rejects it.

He rejects the Human Instrumentality Project, because he realized, in the end of the day, the project is just another way of running away. Suffering exists because of other humans, mistreatment and our inability to understand each other completely, yes, but so does happiness. We feel happiness because we are connected with other humans. Our music, our game, our art, our friendship, such and such, wouldn't it be sweeter to be shared with other people, instead of locking it up within ourselves? Of other people appreciating you and finds joy with you? People who loves you as you, not because you are everyone. Your loved ones love you with as theirselves and you love your loved ones as yourself.

That is the joy and pain of self, and Shinji, despite all of his suffering, finally sees the truth in it.

Now I want to apply it to Xiuhcoatl. I think, what Xiuhcoatl really did with the creation of Huitzilopochtli, is running away. Perhaps his time during his 'false death', when he was imprisoned in the lava all alone, and his own abyssal infection fueled this, but it still running away, nonetheless.

Maybe during his false death, that loneliness traumatised him. Maybe he thought that erasing the barriers of his kin's individuality is better than going through it all over again. Just like Gendo, he thought that being one with everyone is better than actually making efforts of working together to find the solution, to connect with each other.

"Istg your lack of appreciation for Xiuhcoatl's efforts-" I AM APPRECIATING HIM!!! APPRECIATING ALSO MEAN BEING HONEST OF OPINION AND ACKNOWLEDGING WHAT THEY REALLY DO!!! AND WHAT XIUHCOATL REALLY DID IS ACTUALLY LOSING HOPE!!!

Yes, for all his talks to Kukulkan losing faith in his people, I think it's Xiuhcoatl himself that was losing hope. He didn't hope that his civilization could survive the Abyss. He didn't trust his kin to fight the Abyss. He didn't have hope for them to win. That's why he created the Huitzilopochtli.

And you know how his dragon kin still worshipped him while he turned into a senseless walking corpse? You think they just trust blindly into him like that? No, I think Xiuhcoatl, intentionally or not, nourish that behaviour. He had this "I can fix this, you better stay put" mentality. Kukulkan did say that there are dragons who were afraid of the Huitzilopochtli, but nobody could go agaisnt Xiuhcoatl. Xiuhcoatl forced them to accept the Huitzilopochtli, ready or not. Kukulkan did say that Xiuhcoatl should let the Dragon people find the solution together by themselves, but he rejected it. And eventually, he threatened Kukulkan to just kill him, if Kukulkan thought his plan was so extreme.

He was conditioned to be listened and be worshipped, and he thought it was his subjects' duty to accept this idea. Thought that rejecting it is the same as wishing his death.

But here's a thing; you can't solve a problem this big by yourself. And you can't force people to accept your solution willy-nilly, especially a solution as terrifying as this. He forced his people to create a weapon that annihilated the entire world and themselves. He forced his people to "do as I say. Don't even dare to think of other solution. This is for your best." He forced his people to think that they had no hope of winning, and they are better of losing their individuality than even fight against the Abyss.

And what exactly does this Huitzilopochtli achieve? Kukulkan became terrified of this project, he abandoned his dragon kin to find solution in humanity before his brother could activate Huitzilopochtli. His dragon kin listened to their zombie king. They were ordered not to even hope against the Abyss, so they didn't. They put all of their hopes in him instead, even when they were afraid. Do you think that one of the reason why they were so fractured is because they were afraid that if they were found lacking in faith, they would be cast away to be annihilated instead of joining the collective consciousness?

Where did it get them? Fractured, self-cannibalizing, defeated by the human forces. Dead.

Xiuhcoatl lost his hope, forced them not to hope. And now they're all dead.

Another thing, Xiuhcoatl named the Secret Source Servant prototype "Kukulkan", claiming that the owner of the name would care less about it. But isn't it Xiuhcoatl himself that say that all names would lose all meaning with the activation of Huitzilopochtli? Doesn't it means that the name "Kukulkan" doesn't have meaning to him, anymore? That (just my headcanon, btw) his children', the Dragonlords, names, with their titles and greatness planted in their names, have no meaning, didn't carry his prayers and wish of the qualities he hoped they would embody? That his dragon kin's names wouldn't have any meaning anymore? That he, the forger of all names, found that names have no meaning anymore?

You wished to destroy all names, Xiuhcoatl, why you cling to it?

But you know who's the one who never lose hope? Kukulkan.

Not exactly hope for the dragon kind, but hope to fight the Abyss. He did some evil shit, experimenting on his son, snatching human souls, orchestrating the suffering of the Saurians afflicted with the Flamelord's Blessing. But he did it because he has hope for humanity. He says it himself:

Kukulkan: If I had truly wished for a dragon to activate that system, should I not have raised them within the Sacred City, teaching them to hate this world? Why did I send them to be by a human's side? Kukulkan: Perhaps... deep down, I still wished... to believe. Kukulkan: But look. Isn't it wonderful? It made the same choice I made back then — and Och-Kan too, for that matter. Kukulkan: ...My king, my elder brother, O lord who gave me life on the day you yourself were born... You once said that in my final moments, I would understand your desire. Kukulkan: Haha, but it seems that on this point alone, I cannot concede...

Xiuhcoatl once said that Kukulkan would follow the same path as him. Kukulkan conceded him with everything, but not this. Not the annihilation not the hope. He didn't understand his brother's desire, because he still had hope.

In a way, our Little One is the Shinji to the Xiuhcoatl & Kukulkan's Gendo. Xiuhcoatl who wished for Dragon Instrumentality Project & Kukulkan who done his shit in the name of humanity & thought he was running out of hope. Perhaps our Little One didn't suffer as much as Shinji, but like him, he realized that the world without connection isn't a world worth living. He chose us, for all the pain and joy and sorrow of the world, God he chose us. Even if we parted with him in the end, even if our journey would cause pain and longing to him, it's our memories that matter, our joy that matter, our selves that remembers them that matter.

Just like Shinji, he chose individuality.

Wow this is a long ass read XD

Tl;dr: Xiuhcoatl didn't hope that his dragon kin could win against the Abyss, forced them to accept his solution, thus fracturing his own civilization because they blindly followed him without thinking for their own solution themselves. Ironically, the one who didn't lose hope is Kukulkan, whom, despite all the shits he done, never actually intend to activate Huitzilopochtli with his actions.

And finally...

I FUCKING LOVE XIUHCOATL!!! MY TRAGIC AND COMPLEX DRAGON!!! MY FUCKING EVERYTHING RAHHHH WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU WISH TO DESTROY ALL NAMES YOU LITERALLY CALLED YOURSELF THE FORGER OF ALL NAMES??? WDYM CALLING YOUR BROTHER LOSING FAITH IN YOUR PEOPLE WHEN YOU YOUSELF LOST HOPE THAT THEY COULD EVER WIN BY THEMSELVES??? FUCK YOU ILY SO MUCH XIUHCOATL PLEASE BE PLAYBLE I LOVE YOU!!!