#the monarch��s court

[the-meme-monarch]

Here's something I've been wondering about. So, we know that canonically Chara uses/used they/them pronouns, and possibly also it/its although that one's up for interpretation. In this ask we'll assume that it/its pronouns are canon too.

Something I've been wondering about is, would grown-up Chara use it/they pronouns rather than they/it? Most Monster if I recall correctly use it/its pronouns, rather than they or he or she (at least of the ones we encounter in Undertale). If they had been given a chance to grow up, I'm wondering if Chara, resenting their humanity and wanting to make themself more like a Monster, would over time start preferring it/its over singular they, and use it more often than they. What do you think?

chara does also refer to itself as it :0c! in no mercy they call themself ‘the demon that comes when you call its name’ and yeah yeah yeah sure ok they could be using ‘it’ to dehumanize themself here it could be a figure of speech to use ‘it’ here etc but with other monsters calling them it/its it’s real to me ANYWAY recently I’ve been thinking that since it does seem monsters (and darkners) use it/its as their default neutral pronoun, that that’s where chara picked up it/its :] so chara growing up and deciding it prefers ‘it’ before ‘they’ is really sweet (looking at it under the lens of assimilating itself into monster culture bc of it’s family and community instead of Disavowing its human-ness bc they hate humanity bc. kid that’s probably really not good for you mentally. they were probably also doing it for this reason though)

[strawberry-bubblef]

the post about the great seven made me think of a lot of things, but I now only remember one ╥﹏╥

Could I request the dormleaders with a reader that's immortal, and is the great sevens child ? Like for example, reader is the child of the queen of hearts

Feel free to ignore this lol ^_^

Dormleaders with an immortal!s/o that is the child of the great seven

Riddle Rosehearts

“You may be the child of the Queen... but you are nothing like her. And thank the Great Seven for that.”

No one remembers your name.

Once, it echoed through marble halls and velvet chambers, sewn into tapestries and whispered with reverence or fear. But when the Queen of Hearts died, everything that was hers was buried with her: her name, her reign… and you.

You were never crowned. Never introduced to the world. A shadow behind red curtains, a secret hidden even from her most loyal court. Perhaps she was trying to protect you. Or perhaps she knew the world would never accept a child raised by her.

You fled the Queendom the night it fell,when her court turned on itself and the roses bled. You remember the scent of scorched velvet, the last trembling lullaby she sang when she tucked you in that final night.

And then… nothing. Just centuries. Drifting.

You don’t know why you stopped aging. Maybe it’s the magic in your blood. Maybe it’s the curse of royalty. You wandered, studied, observed. Watched Heartslabyul rise in her image,flawed, rigid, hollow.

You didn’t plan to return. You didn’t even know how.

But the mirror chose you. Dragged you into a world echoing with her legacy. And now, you walk Night Raven College’s halls like a ghost wearing flesh, your past stitched beneath your skin, every step retracing memories that no one else remembers.

When you first arrive at Night Raven College, Riddle treats you like a wildcard,mildly irritating, overly cryptic, far too relaxed for someone claiming to know the Queen of Hearts' laws so intimately. To him, you're a contradiction. How could someone speak of Heartslabyul's customs with such precision, and yet flout them with the casual grace of someone who’s memorized every loophole?

You quote ancient laws in fluent Old Queendom dialect. You tie your cravat in the royal fashion,her fashion. And one day, when you're late to a dorm meeting, you offer an apology he recognizes, word for word, from a speech the Queen herself once gave to Parliament.

He doesn’t confront you at first. No, Riddle does what he always does. He observes, watches, collects evidence like petals pressed into the pages of his memory. You’re infuriatingly poised, with that slow, knowing smile. You rarely show emotion in public, but there’s an elegance to you that feels eerily timeless.

And then one day, he sees it.

You’re alone in the rose maze. Crying, not out of sadness, but from some invisible, ancient grief. A single red petal rests in your hand, crushed between your fingers. You whisper something he can't hear, but he knows it's not meant for this era.

He steps forward too loudly, and you stiffen.

“Who are you?” he demands, voice low and trembling. “Really.”

You turn, tired. Not annoyed. Just... worn down.

“I told you,” you say, voice soft. “I’m the child of the Queen of Hearts.”

Riddle doesn’t believe you.

At least, not at first.

But the proof starts stacking: the way you predict ceremonial patterns he hasn’t even memorized yet. The way you refer to royal events like you were there. The way you slip and say “when she was alive” with too much weight behind it.

He confronts you again. This time, behind closed doors, arms folded tight.

“You expect me to believe you’re centuries old? That you were born of one of the most famous monarchs in Twisted Wonderland’s history?”

“No,” you say calmly. “I don’t expect you to believe anything.”

“…But it’s the truth.”

You meet his eyes,his furious, brilliant eyes and something in you aches. He looks just like one of the Queen’s pages. The same fire. The same hunger for order. But the fear in him is new.

He’s afraid you’re right.

“…She wasn’t who they said she was,” you whisper. “Not always. She was terrifying, yes. Powerful. Cold. But she held me like I was porcelain, kissed my forehead every night before I slept. She taught me that rules were how she kept her heart from breaking again.”

Riddle stares. Unmoving.

“You knew her…” he says. Not a question. A quiet surrender.

You nod.

“But she died, Riddle. They all do. I’ve watched kingdoms rise and fall. Watched laws be rewritten. Watched people try to become her, wear her like a title. And every time, they fail.”

Then you look at him, gaze unwavering. “Even you.”

That hits him. Hard.

He’s spent years trying to be a perfect heir for his mother. To learn that he will never be enough in her eyes cuts deep. But deeper still is the quiet horror in your expression when you say it. You're not judging him. You're begging him not to become what she was.

“Why are you here?” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But if I’m going to be immortal, I want to at least feel like I'm living.”

And that… is something Riddle understands more than he wants to.

From then on, he starts treating you differently.

At first, he’s hesitant. Unsure. But the more you talk, the more he sees the scars hidden beneath your stillness. You tell him stories of palace life. Of your mother’s sharpness, her loneliness, her ambition. Of the moment you realized you would outlive everyone and she was already gone.

He listens to you in the quiet hours between classes. Starts sneaking you teas he thinks you might have tasted in the court. Lets you revise the rules, not to manipulate them, but to restore the humanity lost in them.

You, who were once raised as a symbol, now walk beside him not as a relic, but as a person. A strange one. A sad one. But someone who understands what it's like to have your identity shaped by someone else's legacy.

And Riddle, for all his perfectionism, finds something freeing in your honesty. In your quiet wisdom. In your unflinching view of the past.

He asks you once:

“If she were here now… what would she think of me?”

You answer truthfully, gently, “She’d see you as a threat. Because you’re trying to do what she couldn’t,rule with kindness.”

He doesn’t cry. But he looks away.

You take his hand, fingers cool against his trembling ones.

And in that moment, immortal or not, past or future aside, Riddle Rosehearts is simply a boy.

And you are simply someone who understands.

Leona Kingscholar

"You come from the King… but you aren’t his echo. And maybe that’s the greatest blessing of all."

They called him the second son, the shadow beneath a golden crown.

But long before Falena was declared heir, before the pride lands of Sunset Savanna settled into peace under a careful rule there was you.

You weren’t born into the Kingscholar line. You were born into the original one.

The First Bloodline. The one that history erased you like you were a stain on the throne.

Your father, the King of Beasts, wasn’t just a ruler,he was a storm in a lion’s skin. Cunning. Unrivaled. Feared. And you were the child he kept hidden, not out of shame, but out of protection. His enemies were many. His politics ruthless. You were a secret too valuable to let out into the open.

But then he vanished.

Some say he was killed. Others believe he was betrayed by his own council. But you? You were only a child when they tore you from the palace and declared the bloodline broken.

The nobility chose another branch to carry the throne,one less “cursed,” more “obedient.”

The Kingscholars.

You were never mentioned again.

Until now.

You cross paths with Leona after a skirmish in the Spelldrive field. Dirt still on his cheek, sand in his boots, he snarls at you as you walk past, eyes narrowing like a lion scenting a rival on his territory.

"You walk like you own the place."

You don’t even look at him when you say, “I did. Once.”

He scoffs. “Right.”

But the words lodge in him like a thorn. And later,after too many coincidences, after hearing you speak in royal dialects that no one outside palace walls should know,he corners you behind the botanical garden greenhouse.

“You’re not from here. But you know too much.”

You exhale. The silence after that is long. Heavy.

Then: “I was born before the throne ever touched your bloodline.”

He stares. “You’re saying…?”

“My bloodline ruled before the Kingscholars were chosen.”

Leona scoffs the moment the words leave your mouth.

“Child of the King of Beasts? Right.” His arms fold, tail flicking with sharp annoyance. “Next thing you’ll tell me, you’re here to reclaim the throne.”

You don’t even blink. Just tilt your head slightly, expression calm.

“I’m not here for a throne.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To exist,” you answer simply. “I’ve done enough hiding.”

Leona narrows his eyes. He’s not stupid,he can see the way you carry yourself. Proud. Collected. Like someone who’s had centuries to learn how to wear masks. But that doesn’t mean he’ll believe you. Not without proof.

“Fine. You’ve got five seconds to make me care,” he growls. “Or I walk.”

You pause.

Then, from under your coat, you pull something on a chain,worn, but gleaming faintly in the light. A pendant.

It’s shaped like a lion’s head. Old, far older than anything in Sunset Savanna’s current monarchy. The eyes are carved from faded sunstone, and around the mane are markings,etched in a script that hasn’t been taught in generations.

Leona’s scoff dies on his lips.

“…Where’d you get that?” His voice is quiet now. Sharp.

You don’t hand it to him. Your fingers curl around it instinctively.

“It was my father’s,” you say, gently. “The last thing I have of him.”

Leona takes a slow step forward, staring.

“I’ve seen that design. Once. In the sealed royal archive. Back when I still gave a damn.”

You nod. “You’d only see it once. The crest of the First King before the Kingscholars.”

He stares at you for a long moment.

“…You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“And you’ve been hiding this,why?”

“Because it’s not a crown,” you say quietly. “It’s grief. It’s centuries of watching others wear his name, rewrite his story, and erase me from it. I didn’t want to rule. I just wanted my father back.”

Leona’s jaw clenches. There’s something raw in his eyes. Familiar.

“…They erased me too,” he mutters. “The second son. Always in the background.”

You nod. “Then maybe you understand.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, eyes flickering to the pendant again.

“…You keep that,” he says eventually, gruff. “I don’t need it.”

“I wasn’t giving it to you.”

“Tch. Fine.”

There’s a long pause.

Then he speaks, softer this time:

“So… what are you gonna do now?”

You exhale. “Live, I guess. For him. For me.”

Another silence.

Then, with a huff, Leona turns on his heel.

“You coming or not?”

You blink. “Where?”

“To the greenhouse. I’m not gonna sit around thinking about history all day. But if you wanna talk legacy or whatever… I’ll listen.”

You smile faintly, fingers still tight around the pendant.

“…Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbles again. “Just don’t vanish.”

“I already did. Not doing it again.”

And somehow, as the sun filters down on the golden plains beyond the dorm, there’s a strange, quiet peace in the air,two ghosts of old royalty, still learning how to be people.

Azul Ashengrotto

"Born of the Sea Witch, yet so far from her shadow… and honestly, the world is better for it.

Everyone knows who you are.

There’s no secret to your identity. The Sea Witch’s heir, that title follows you like the tide, carved into every introduction, every sideways glance. Most students keep their distance, unsure whether to bow or bolt. And Azul… Azul doesn’t know what to do with you at all.

Because he revered her.

Studied every scrap of her legend, built his entire image from the pieces of her legacy. Her cunning, her ambition, her raw, terrifying brilliance, Azul built the Lounge with those values in mind. But then you arrive. You, who could command a room with a breath and haven’t. You, who could claim dominion over the sea and haven’t.

You don't need to speak loudly,people listen anyway. You don’t bargain like a predator,people offer things to you freely. You carry your heritage like a pearl: luminous, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

Azul tries to treat you like anyone else.

He fails.

You step into the Lounge and every glass seems to hush. You give advice to Jade that he actually takes. Floyd calls you “Little Queenie” and follows your directions with that rare, dangerous glint of respect.

Azul is torn between admiration and envy.

Until one night, when he finally dares to ask.

“You don’t act like her,” he says quietly. “Why?”

You pause, hands stilling over a half-folded letter. “You mean like the stories?”

He nods.

You smile softly, something like nostalgia darkening your gaze. “My mother was… magnificent. The world remembers her power. I remember her songs.”

He’s silent. You continue.

“She taught me that power should be earned, not stolen. That knowledge is the real currency of the sea. She gave me her voice, not just to speak but to listen.”

You open your palm, revealing a small, polished nautilus shell,golden and glimmering, humming faintly with stored magic. “This is all I have left of her. And it’s enough.”

Azul stares at it. He’s never seen anything like it. Never felt anything like it. Power, ancient and soft. Not cold. Not cruel. Just vast.

“I admired her,” he whispers.

“So did I,” you reply, not missing a beat. “But I am not her. I could never be. And the ocean… doesn’t need a second Sea Witch. It needs something new.”

That’s when Azul sees it.

You could have built an empire. Could have drowned this school in your magic and crowned yourself without resistance. But instead, you chose something gentler. Something wiser. Influence without intimidation. Intelligence without cruelty.

And he realizes,painfully, humbly, that you have everything he wants to be. But you’ve already grown beyond the shadow of your legacy.

He watches you slip the shell back into its velvet pouch, tucking it away inside your coat like a promise.

“You may be the child of the Sea Witch,” he says, almost breathless.

“…but you are nothing like her.”

A beat of silence.

“And thank the Great Seven for that.”

You give him a long look. Thoughtful. Unreadable. But then your expression softens, and your voice dips low and personal, like a lullaby meant only for him.

“I’m not her,” you repeat, stepping closer, “but I still know how to make wishes come true.”

Azul's breath catches. You reach up and gently cup his cheek ,the motion graceful, tender, intentional. His glasses fog just a little from how close you are.

"And what if mine’s already come true?" he murmurs.

“Then you’d better hold on to it,” you whisper, “before I swim away.”

And this time, Azul doesn’t try to be like anyone else.

He just holds your hand.

Kalim Al Asim

"Though you carry the blood of the Sorcerer of the Sand, you are nothing like him and that, in itself, is a gift."

Everyone knows who you are.

When you arrive at Night Raven College, the whispers don’t stop. The child of Jafar, the legendary sorcerer from the sands, the one who wielded dark magic and commanded the winds, it’s a title that carries weight. Most students are cautious, staying on the sidelines, unsure whether to smile or bow in respect. After all, Jafar’s influence was legendary, his ambition was terrifying, and his downfall? Well, it’s still a cautionary tale.

But you? You’re nothing like him.

Kalim notices that immediately. It’s one of the first things he learns about you. You’re not cold like your father. You don’t speak in cryptic riddles or draw power from ancient relics. You don’t even seem interested in the wealth or the control he had. You just… exist. And Kalim, for all his brightness and enthusiasm, can’t help but be fascinated by you.

You’re mysterious, yet open. You don’t flaunt your magic, and you certainly don’t try to intimidate others. You smile when you need to. You laugh. You cry, even. And you have this air about you, a quiet elegance, as if you were made to rule, but chose not to. He can’t help but find it captivating.

On the surface, Kalim is an open book. He’s cheerful, full of life, quick to embrace people, quick to trust, quick to love. But you? You keep your emotions locked away, always playing the role of the calm, collected individual, hiding all the things you feel under a polished, neutral facade.

One day, after a particularly intense school event where everyone’s on edge, Kalim finds you alone in the desert garden, sitting cross-legged beneath the stars. You’re holding a small glass vial, the one your father once kept on his person, filled with a grain of sand that never seems to settle.

“What’s this?” Kalim asks, plopping down next to you without hesitation, his voice full of curiosity.

You glance at him, your face unreadable. Then, you slowly open the vial, letting the sand inside drift slowly, the grains twinkling in the moonlight. “A piece of something that’s gone,” you say softly. “A piece of him.”

For the first time, Kalim feels the weight in your words. He’s seen the way you carry yourself, how you’re both haunted by and detached from your father’s legacy. He knows you’re not here to claim power or revenge, but there’s something else in you,something bittersweet.

Kalim watches you closely, then gently nudges your arm with his.

“Hey,” he says with his usual enthusiasm, “It’s okay, you know. You don’t have to carry all of that by yourself.”

You blink, surprised by his straightforwardness. Kalim, in his warmth and innocence, doesn’t seem to understand the weight you carry. But maybe that’s what makes him so special, he doesn’t carry that same burden. Maybe he can lighten your load, even if just for a little while.

“I’m not him,” you murmur quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never be him. But people expect me to be, and sometimes, it’s just easier to let them think that.”

Kalim tilts his head, clearly not understanding. He watches you for a long moment, before his face brightens with his usual, radiant smile.

“Why not show them who you really are, then?” he suggests, his voice teasing but gentle. “I mean, you’re you, right? And that’s way more interesting than some old sorcerer’s name, don’t you think?”

You blink, caught off guard by his confidence. Kalim’s words are so simple, so pure , yet they feel like a revelation. Maybe you could live for yourself, without the shadow of your father looming over your every move.

Kalim scoots closer, his smile softening, his eyes sparkling with kindness. He gently takes your hand in his, his fingers warm, a stark contrast to the cool, distant air that’s always surrounded you.

“I know it’s tough,” he says softly, “but you don’t have to be that person anymore. You don’t have to live up to anyone else’s expectations. You get to choose who you are.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you feel the cracks in your walls start to show. Kalim isn’t afraid of your past. He doesn’t look at you like a reflection of your father. He just sees you. And in that moment, you wonder if it’s possible to finally start living on your own terms.

“I think…” you start, your voice soft but gaining strength, “I think I might just try that.”

Kalim’s smile widens, his eyes lighting up. He moves closer, and for the first time, you allow yourself to lean into someone without fear of what they might think.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m here for you, okay?”

And when he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found something new to hold onto. Not the legacy of the Sorcerer of the Sand, but something far more precious: your own future.

And as Kalim’s infectious laughter fills the air, you let yourself believe that, for the first time, you might just be ready to walk away from the past and forge your own path.

Vil Schoenheit

“You may carry the blood of the Fairest Queen… but your beauty shines in ways even she could never claim.”

Everyone knows your name.

It’s spoken with reverence across Night Raven College’s halls, embroidered on silk and memory both:

the heir of the Fairest Queen.

Your presence is like walking history but not something dusty or forgotten. You are a living embodiment of grace, refinement, and an impossible, devastating beauty that the world thought it had lost when the Queen’s mirror finally cracked.

The Fairest Queen was not simply beautiful.

She was an icon. A legend. A dream.

And you, you are her continuation.

No one knows exactly where you’ve been all these years. Some say you were hidden away to protect you from jealous enemies. Others whisper that after the Queen’s death, you chose exile, unable to live in a world without her. Whatever the truth, when the Dark Mirror summoned you to Night Raven College, the world held its breath.

Especially Vil Schoenheit.

Vil, who grew up studying the Fairest Queen’s philosophies like sacred scripture.

Vil, who shaped himself in the image of perfection she defined.

For Vil, meeting you is like meeting a star plucked from the heavens. No,worse. You aren’t just a star.

You are the night sky itself.

And he will not disgrace himself before you.

The first time your paths cross, you’re standing in the courtyard, a soft breeze stirring your clothes. Everything about you is effortless, the way you hold your posture, the tilt of your head, the calm, poised patience in your eyes. You look as though you were born to be admired.

Vil approaches,his steps are silent. Controlled.

He bows,not exaggeratedly, but perfectly, with a hand over his heart.

“Your Highness,” he murmurs. “It’s an honor.”

You smile, a small thing, but it lights you from within. Vil feels a rush of warmth, a heady, dizzying awe he hasn’t experienced since the first time he saw the Fairest Queen’s portrait.

“You don't have to call me that,” you say gently.

“But I choose to,” Vil replies, his voice low and steady.

Because to him, you are royalty not merely by blood, but by right.

He studies you shamelessly. Not to find flaws,no, he knows there are none.

Rather, he drinks in your existence the way an artist would, memorizing the way sunlight halos around you, the regal way you incline your head, the serene confidence in every breath.

Vil has spent his whole life pursuing beauty, striving to become something greater, something untouchable. Yet standing before you, he realizes:

You were born as the standard he’s been chasing all along.

Over time, Vil's respect only deepens.

He listens when you speak, genuinely attentive.

He offers you only the finest,handpicked skin-care products, rare imported teas, elegant gifts that speak of thought rather than extravagance.

He doesn’t flatter you meaninglessly; he gives the kind of honest praise that means everything coming from someone like him.

“You move with grace unmatched.” he murmurs one evening after a Dorm Assembly. “It’s as if the world bends itself to your will, simply to be worthy of your touch.”

And somehow, you never let it change you.

You are kind, but not naïve. Beautiful, but not arrogant. You carry your lineage with dignity, not pride.

And so Vil watches you. Studies you. Learns from you. Not as a rival. Not even as a mentor.

As something rarer.

As an equal he desperately hopes to be worthy of standing beside.

One night, when the stars hang low and silver over the horizon, Vil finally says it aloud.

“You could command the whole world to kneel,” he says softly, when the two of you are alone on the balcony of Pomefiore. “Yet you choose to walk among us.”

You tilt your head, amused. “And would you kneel for me, Vil?”

The question is playful. Teasing.

But Vil, proud and unyielding Vil Schoenheit, sinks gracefully onto one knee without hesitation.

“For you,” he says, voice like velvet and iron, “I already have.

And somehow, the knowledge of it doesn't make you feel more powerful.

It makes you feel seen.

Truly, fully seen.

Not just as the Fairest Queen's child.

But as you.

Idia Shroud

"You may be the child of the King of the Underworld… but you don't have to follow his path."

The first time Idia hears about you, he nearly chokes on his snack.

The child of Hades?!

The actual King of the Underworld?!

A real life demigod roaming the halls of NRC like it’s NBD?!

It’s the kind of thing that sounds like the premise of a high-level RPG questline,not something that actually happens in real life. But there you are, flesh and blood (and... well, probably something even more mystical), walking through the halls with an aura of death and ancient power so thick it almost glitches the atmosphere around you.

Most students are terrified of you.

Or obsessed with you.

Idia?

He’s hiding behind a pillar, peeking at you like you're some kind of ultra-rare mob he's too scared to approach.

He’s absolutely fascinated, of course.

You don’t strut around like you own the place (even though, technically, being the heir to the Underworld, you probably could).

You're oddly down-to-earth. Quiet. Almost reserved.

And that? That makes it even worse for Idia’s poor heart.

He overthinks every possible interaction with you for weeks. He even drafts multiple conversation scripts on his tablet,ranging from “cool aloof mysterious type” to “friendly casual gamer type” but never uses a single one because just thinking about talking to you makes him want to disintegrate into pixel dust.

You, however, notice him almost immediately.

Not because he’s super subtle (he’s not ,bright flaming hair behind a corner isn’t exactly stealthy) but because you can sense things most mortals can’t.

And Idia? Idia’s aura is like a beacon ,pulsing with intense, chaotic energy barely held together by layers of anxiety.

One day, when he’s hiding (badly) in the library, you finally corner him.

"You’re good at sneaking around the living," you say casually, leaning over the back of his chair.

Idia nearly dies on the spot (pun intended). His hair flares up bright pink, his tablet clatters to the ground, and he whirls around like a caught anime protagonist.

"ACK—!! I-I-I wasn’t staring!! I was just—researching!! Buffs intelligence +10!!! It’s not creepy, I swear!!" he stammers, practically vibrating with panic.

You just blink at him, expression unreadable, then... smile.

"Relax," you say, voice low and a little amused. "I don’t bite."

Idia freezes like a lagging game character.

He’s convinced he’s hallucinating.

You, literal royalty of the underworld are TALKING to him. Casually. Like it’s normal. Like he's normal.

From there, it’s a slow, awkward, chaotic friendship that blossoms into something deeper.

You’re one of the few people who understand when Idia talks about souls, afterlife theories, and obscure mythos.

And when you finally confess, it's clumsy, adorable, and very, very Idia:

"I-I know you could like... have literally anyone... or summon a loyal legion of, like, skeleton admirers or whatever... b-but uh... if you ever wanna, like, uh, game with me or whatever, I promise to only lose most of the time and...and maybe, uh, not die of happiness if you smiled at me again...?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head, reaching out to gently tap his forehead with your finger.

"You’re an idiot," you say affectionately. "But you're my idiot now."

If Idia could, he’d be on the floor, blue-screened from sheer joy.

Instead, he just short-circuits with a shy, wide, stunned grin,the kind only you get to see.

Malleus Draconia

“You may be the child of the Thorn Fairy… but you don't want to be like her.”

Everyone knows who you are.

Whispers trail behind you like mist: The heir to the Thorn Fairy. The last legacy of the fairest queen. In Diasomnia, you are regarded almost with reverence. In the halls of Night Raven College, where lineage means everything and legends walk in flesh and bone, you are already immortalized.

And to Malleus Draconia,you are more than that.

You are a living bridge to the one he reveres most.

The Thorn Fairy, the untouchable queen, the mistress of thorns and dreams and undying majesty.

The one whose wisdom shaped kingdoms.

The one whose power commanded storms and silence alike.

Malleus is enthralled by you from the start.

He watches you with an intensity few dare withstand, caught between awe and aching loneliness. You do not command attention,you draw it, effortlessly, as if the air itself leans toward you.

And you, for all your lineage, carry none of the cruelty history once feared.

You walk gently where others would conquer.

You speak thoughtfully where others would decree.

You smile softly where others would sneer.

It confounds him.

And yet, it delights him.

One evening, beneath a withering tree in the Diasomnia gardens, he finally approaches you, green eyes catching the silver of the stars in their depths.

“You are different from her,” Malleus says, not accusing,almost... wondering.

You look at him then, and your expression is so full of something ancient and mournful that it stills the breath in his lungs.

“My mother,” you say, voice quiet, “was majesty incarnate. Her beauty, her wrath, her sorrow… they shaped the very lands you and I walk upon.”

You reach into the folds of your cloak, and Malleus watches with sharp, expectant eyes as you withdraw a simple object, a thorn, long and blackened, gleaming like obsidian. You hold it as one would hold a relic, reverently.

“This is all I have left of her," you whisper. "One thorn. One fragment of the forest she once called her own."

The thorn hums faintly in your palm, old magic stirring like a sleeping dragon.

Malleus lowers his gaze, his heart a storm of emotion.

He had idolized her, the stories, the grandeur, the tragedy but you had known her. You had been loved by her.

“I am not her," you say at last. "I will never be her. I was not made to rule through fear or flame. I was made to remember."

The thorn vanishes back into the folds of your cloak, your hand brushing over your chest like a silent vow.

Malleus steps closer, the gravity between you almost suffocating.

“You may be the child of the Thorn Fairy…” he murmurs, voice low, reverent.

“…but you are nothing like her.”

He bows his head slightly, a rare gesture of deep, genuine respect.

He finds a companion.

A kindred soul.

Someone who remembers the past,and dares to walk beyond it.

English is not my first language !

[reality-detective]

So let me get this straight…

Virginia Giuffre, Jeffrey Epstein victim, survives a bus slam into her, despite being given just 4 days to live. Then, once she bravely claws her way back from the edge of death and on the road to recovery, she suddenly commits suicide? 👇

One of the first to speak out, Giuffre became a powerful force in the fight for justice against Epstein and his network.

Her courage inspired countless others to come forward, breaking the silence that had protected abusers for years. 👇

Virginia Giuffre claimed she was forced to have s*x with several powerful men—including former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak.

The allegation was revealed by Alan Dershowitz, who cited her claims while attempting to undermine her credibility.

Giuffre also named Prince Andrew, New Mexico’s former Governor Bill Richardson, MIT professor Marvin Minsky, Hyatt chairman Tom Pritzker, and others.

Dershowitz sued Giuffre into silence. 👇

Just a reminder that the late Queen paid Virginia £12 million in an out-of-court settlement so that Andrew didn't have to face a jury trial on claims that he sexually abused and raped her when she was 17. 👇

The Telegraph reported that the total amount was upwards of $16 million and included a contribution from the monarch from her private Duchy of Lancaster estate, which means it wouldn't be coming from taxpayers' money. (yeah right) 👇

If true... May she R. I. P. 🙏

I AM seriously NOT be-LIE-ving this story 🤔

[celestialwrites]

heir to the throne x commoner dialogue and prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ "believe it or not you are worth more to me than any throne." "but you've spent your life preparing for this?" "exactly."

♡ the heir bowing to their s/o, for everyone to witness.

♡ "you should not be seen with me." "really? now why is that?"

♡ just days after their meeting, the heir already has a plan set for a second throne.

♡ "my love and loyalty to you will never falter." "what about your crown? your people?" "it. will. not. falter."

♡ the commoner ending their affair because the only way the heir can sit on the throne is when betrothed to a person of noble blood.

♡ both of them fake their deaths to ensure that they are never found out, yet they resurface to claim the throne together years later when the country is on the brink of war.

♡ there is a colour only the queen/king can wear at court (and/or) ball. so naturally, the heir sends their s/o an outfit, made from the fabric of that colour.

♡ "oh, you asshole!" "careful love, i wouldn't want to throw you in the dungeons."

♡ "i want to be the monarch i was raised to be, but it grows harder with each second i spend thinking about you."

♡ writing secret letters that they both hide around the palace.

♡ the heir gifting their s/o a key to the secret royal library that hasn’t been touched by a non-royal in centuries.

♡ “take my crown, take my title, take my heart, it has always been yours to begin with.”

♡ “for the first time in my life i was just (name), no duties, and no responsibilities. you gave me that gift.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[circeyoru]

MASTERLIST: Solo Leveling Ver.

Finally, I'm making a Masterlist for this fandom too. From now on, all the stories will be linked to here, to access here would be through my central Masterlist with the other fandoms.

I swear, every single one of these would contain spoilers of some form if you only watched the anime. You have been warned guys~

Sung Jinwoo, The Shadow Monarch

{Loyalty of The Shadow} *COMPLETED*

[Sung Jinwoo x Friend!Reader] Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

{Foreign Reality}

[Sung Jinwoo x Memory intact!Reader - Academy Arc] Story

{Future Power Couple} = Requested

[Sung Jinwoo x S-Rank Player!Reader] Ask — Story

{The Cure for Their Problems} = Requested

[Sung Jinwoo x Sickly!Reader] Ask — Story

{*unnamed*} = Mini Series Collab @forbidden-sunlight

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x KDJ!Reader] Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — (more parts coming) A mini series we take turns writing and editing different parts! Enjoy enjoy!!

{The Only Reason} *COMPLETED*

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Overload AU] Part 1 — The Ruling System Over Hunters Part 2 — Hunters Belong in Dungeons, Not Cells Part 3 — Imprisonment of the Rising Star Part 4 — It Was All Planned Trivia Asks: > Where are Jinho and Jinchul? > What happened with Thomas Andre? (bonus: other National Level Hunters)

{Your Special Shush Muse} = Requested

[Sung Jinwoo x A-Rank Hunter Artist!Reader] Ask — Story

{By His Side} = Requested

[Sung Jinwoo x Long-time Partner!Reader] Ask — Story

{Shadow and Void} = Requested

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader] Ask Arc 1: Alliance Part 1 ― The Monarch Part 2 — Memory and Deal Part 3 — Profile of the Monarch Ally Arc 2: Third Wheel Part 4 — A Rigged Test Part 5 ― Worthy Successor Arc 3: Heir to the Throne Part 6 ― Lurking Dangers Part 7 ― Be A Real One Arc 4: Bonding Times Part 8 ― Let’s Date In Times of Peril Part 9 ― Amusement Park Fun Part 10 ― The Story of The Void’s Vessel Part 11 ― Flight of Freedom Arc 5: (to be continued)

{Maker of His Eyes} = Requested

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Hunter Gear Maker!Reader] Ask — Story

{Love Trial} = Requested *COMPLETED*

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader] Ask — Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 ― Part 5

{Shell of What’s Left Behind} = Requested *COMPLETED*

[Traumatized!Sung Jinwoo x Former Close Friend!Reader] Ask — Story — Alternate/Extra Ending + Silly Comic

{Twins But Still Different} = Requested

[Liu Zhigang x Jinwoo’s Younger Twin!Reader | Sung Jinwoo x Younger Twin!Reader - Platonic] Ask — Story

{Breaking Up 101} = Requested

[Mafia Boss!Sung Jinwoo x Completely Opposite Lover!Reader - Mafia AU] Ask — Story

{Freedom in The Darkness}

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Royalty!Reader - Royal Fight AU] Story

{Never Meant to Be…}

[E-Rank!Sung Jinwoo x Summoner!Reader] Story

{Inhumans Among Humans} = Requested

[Sung Jinwoo x Alter AU Shadow Monarch Female!Reader - Romantic | Monarch Change AU] Request Base ― Teaser/Prologue ― Part 1

{Ranking Means Nothing} = Requested

[E-Rank!Sung Jinwoo x S-Rank Summoner!Reader] Ask — Story

The Shadows, Jinwoo’s Loyal Soldiers

{Wild Card in the Shadow Army} = Requested

[Shadow Generals x Court Jester Shadow!Reader - Platonic] Ask — Story

Liu Zhigang, The 7-star Hunter

{Someone To Defend and Protect} = Requested

[Liu Zhigang x 6-Star Hunter!Reader] Ask — Story

{Twins But Still Different} = Requested

[Liu Zhigang x Jinwoo’s Younger Twin!Reader | Sung Jinwoo x Younger Twin!Reader - Platonic] Ask — Story

General Reader Insert

Crossover: Solo Leveling x Homicipher

[Solo Leveling x Homicipher MC!Reader - Crossover]

Idea 1: {Other Other World} Transported to Jinah’s school during the dungeon break Idea 2: {Twisted Killings} As the dark side of the Hunters Association

Main Masterlist

[p0orbaby]

The Lion in the Jungle Shows No Shame

summary: you go into labour

warnings: some minor mention of contractions but that’s it

a/n: rich!reader is me; not the rich part, but the so over everyone part

word count: 1.7k

-

The boardroom at the training ground is frigid, an oppressive sort of sterile, painted in a corporate beige so calculatedly devoid of warmth it borders on offensive. The colour has clearly been chosen by a committee, signed off by no less than five department heads, all with the express goal of sapping any ounce of levity from the room. The walls bear only the club’s logo in gleaming gold, catching the light like a freshly polished trophy, austere and daunting. You’re seated at the head of the table in a chair meant to look sleek and modern but which you’ve always thought resembles a throne, albeit a minimalist, joyless one. You take pride in this spot, preferring the vantage point of a monarch observing her court, where each word, each glance can be read as an unspoken directive. A panel of finance officers sits to your left, expressionless and obedient, while the marketing strategists and department heads to your right wait, perched on the edge of their seats, eager to impress, or perhaps, not be dismissed. You’ve made your mind up on all of their fates already, but they don’t need to know that.

You sit back, legs crossed, and let your gaze drift to the person currently holding court—a sponsorship officer droning on about a potential partnership with an energy drink. The whole affair is tedious, but you feign interest, allowing only a flicker of annoyance to register as you twist the cap of your Montblanc in slow, deliberate turns, a small, repetitive comfort amidst the boredom. The sponsorship officer is yammering on about margins and high-profile market share. You nod, keeping your expression intentionally neutral, a carefully cultivated mask of polite detachment.

Nine months pregnant isn’t ideal, but that doesn’t mean anyone gets a pass. If you’re still here, they have no excuse for underperforming. You’ve kept every meeting, every review, every grueling evaluation on schedule, so there’s no room for them to slip up. Your presence is a reminder that leadership doesn’t come with compromises or concessions—not even now. Alexia might have opinions about it, but she knows better than to question your commitment. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Then, there’s a twinge—a faint prickling in your lower back. You tell yourself it’s nothing, just the sort of trivial discomfort you’ve brushed off for weeks now. You shift slightly, adjusting in your seat. Subtle, hardly noticeable. But someone—some unfortunate junior in marketing, possibly fresh out of his MBA programme and clearly untrained in discretion—glances over. He catches it, the flicker of discomfort. There’s the faintest suggestion of concern on his face, a furrowed brow, a hesitant question half-formed before he thinks better of it.

Good.

You meet his gaze and reward him with a smile—half genuine, mostly a warning. He gulps, as if he’s swallowed something sharp, and turns his attention back to his notes.

Then the pain intensifies, sharper this time. It tightens low and fierce, radiating like an overstretched muscle, and you have to will your expression to remain steady, blank, entirely unaffected. Your eyes fixate on the PowerPoint slide, as if by staring hard enough you can dissolve the discomfort into the soulless white glow of the projector. But no, it’s there, settling in like an uninvited guest who intends to stay.

The marketing intern glances up again. This time, he actually manages a look of pity. He’s hardly subtle about it. You almost laugh—almost—except the contraction twists hard enough to force you to hold your breath, and your fingers press a touch too hard against the table.

The finance officer drones on, oblivious, his voice a steady monotone against the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Someone in the corner clears their throat. The sound cuts through the room like a scalpel.

“Ma’am,” he says, hesitant, looking anywhere but at you. “If you’d like to take a break—”

You wave him off with a flick of your wrist. “I’m perfectly fine. Let’s keep this moving, please.” Your words are clipped, precise, the kind that leave no room for doubt. You feel the weight of the room’s collective discomfort settle around you, like fog gathering, thick and stifling. The intern looks at you again, wide-eyed, uncertain, and you catch his gaze with a look so cold he almost recoils.

“Of course,” he mumbles, fumbling with his laptop, frantically tapping keys as if the sheer speed of his typing will save him from your wrath.

The next contraction slams into you with a ferocity that makes your breath hitch. A sharper, hotter pain spirals down your spine, and you grip the edge of the table, harder this time. The finance officer is rambling about revenue share and high-growth potential, but his words are disintegrating, merging into the mechanical hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, until they’re nothing but a dull, meaningless drone.

“Ma’am?” The intern speaks again, tentatively. “Are you sure you’re… alright?”

You turn to him with a look that could shatter glass. “Do I look unwell to you?”

His face drains of colour. “No, of course not,” he stammers. “Just… checking”

There it is again, that shift. It’s slight but palpable, a crack in the air. Power slipping. The assistant to your left, normally so silent and obedient, dares to glance your way with what might be concern. Another staffer coughs, hiding his expression in a notebook, though you can see his eyes darting nervously across the table. They’re all shifting now, uncomfortable, glancing at each other in a silent exchange, a web of tension growing thicker with each stolen glance.

You grit your teeth, willing the pain to dissipate, willing them all to get back to their work and stop—just stop looking at you like you’re some fragile artefact about to shatter.

Then, your assistant, Julian, a man so dependable you’d have trusted him with your life savings, makes the first move. He stands, smoothing his tie, clearing his throat in a way that’s maddeningly self-assured. “I think we need to get someone,” he says, his voice gentle but insistent, like a fatherly reprimand. “Just… in case”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Sit down,” you say, your voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Now”

He hesitates, and the silence stretches, taut as a wire. Then, inexplicably, he defies you. “I’m calling Alexia,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a blade.

The shock is visceral, immediate. You can feel it rippling through the room, see it in the furtive glances darting across the table. You, the unassailable chief, suddenly vulnerable, and worse, defied. You hear murmurs, soft but unmissable, as if they’re collectively holding their breath, waiting for you to explode.

Alexia. Coming here. The idea sends a fresh wave of mortification rolling through you, sharper and hotter than any contraction. Alexia, with her bluntness, her inability to mince words. She’ll walk in here, she’ll see you, and she’ll say exactly what she’s thinking, in front of everyone.

The finance officer clears his throat again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe we should… reconvene another time?” He avoids your gaze, wisely. His voice is tentative, as though he’s testing the air for danger.

“Absolutely not,” you bite out, voice like ice. “We’re finishing this meeting. Right now”

But it’s too late. The tension is too thick, the unease in the room too palpable to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, hesitant, searching, a quiet mutiny blooming under their skin, as though you’re something fragile, a rare beast they don’t quite know how to handle. You grip the edge of the table again, willing the pain to subside, to vanish, anything to regain control of the situation.

Then, the door swings open, and there she is: Alexia, in her training kit, her hair damp with sweat, her eyes blazing with a fury so palpable it sends a ripple of shock through the room. She locks eyes with you, her expression a lethal blend of exasperation and concern. The silence deepens, everyone watching with barely concealed curiosity.

“You’re still here,” she says, each word clipped and loaded, a statement more than a question. It lands like a slap.

You force a smile, though it’s tight and strained. “I’m fine”

She sweeps a gaze across the room, her eyes taking in the faces of your subordinates, each one frozen in various states of unease and fascination. When she looks back at you, her expression is a mix of incredulity and… pity. She almost smirks, as if to say, Look at you now.

“You’re in labour,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, her voice filled with a quiet, unmistakable fury. “And you’re… what? Leading a meeting?”

You can feel the weight of their stares, the barely-concealed smirks, the disbelief. You, their fearless leader, brought low, bossed around by your own spouse in front of them. You can already hear the whispers, the knowing chuckles that will ripple through the ranks for weeks, the stories that will morph and grow.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you manage, but your voice is weak, a mere shadow of its usual authority.

“Necessary?” Alexia repeats, crossing her arms. “You think it’s not necessary to go to the hospital when you’re about to give birth?”

Someone stifles a laugh—an intern, no less. You shoot him a look that promises retribution, but it’s lost amidst the pain that surges again, more intense, unrelenting. Then, Alexia’s arm is around you, firm yet gentle, steering you toward the door with a resolve that’s unyielding.

You give one last, desperate protest. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Really, I—”

“Enough,” she says, and her voice is a balm, a force, something that both steadies and infuriates you. Her arm around you is warm, grounding, and for a moment, your frustration melts, replaced by something softer, something you won’t allow yourself to name.

As Alexia guides you out, you catch a final glimpse of the boardroom, your staff looking back at you with expressions ranging from bemused pity to unspoken amusement. You know, with chilling certainty, that this will be the story of the month, if not the year. But with Alexia’s arm wrapped around you, her presence beside you, that irritation begins to fade.

The door closes, sealing you from their whispers, from their smirks. Just this once, you let it go.

[crippling-characters-addiction]

ugh... cliche as FUCK but knight Jayce?

- tmasc no bottom surgery gang

context. my pookie bear here sent me this at 3 am for them after binging knight x prince listener asmr and forgot to type in prince reader lmfao 🙏😔 ily pookie but get some damn sleep

keeping me informed in useless shit I see... I can barely pass chemistry in school but I can tell you about merfolk reproduction and the people closest to the monarch

also teeny tiny fic at the end (I couldn't help myself)

Crowns and Armor

Jayce and you grew up together in the castle. He was the son of your parents' "hand". Ximena Talis was the king and queen's closest advisor and head of the Small Council.

Outside of royal and diplomatic duties, Ximena and your parents were close friends, and they naturally left you and Jayce to play in the gardens while they had tea.

Jayce's responsibility was to become your advisor when you ruled, and he took it very seriously. You just wanted to live your life while you could before all the royal responsibilities started falling on you.

He was going to grow up to be the king's hand, just like his mother now. And you were growing up to be the king, like your father.

As you grew up and Jayce got into page training, you refused to let go of the childish whimsy that still clung to you.

Your time with your best friend started becoming more serious as the years passed. You watching him train to be a knight, him accompanying you to meet princes, princesses, lords, ladies, nobles, etcetera. But you were always joined at the hip.

If people ever questioned you on why you brought that page (lowest knight rank) with you everywhere you would shrug and say "He shall be my hand when I rule, should my closest friend and advisor not know me?"

By the time you were both in your late teens, your parents started introducing you to suitors. Other royals whose parents wanted to form allyships with your kingdom by marrying off their sons or daughters.

As always, Jayce was right beside you in their attempts at courting you. As a chaperone, but you wanted him there anyways. Those princes were so pretentious and the princesses were shallow.

So having your best friend with you was the only way you would agree to sit and listen to a snobby prince tell you about how all the ladies in his land fall at his feet.

After those meetings, you needed some time to clear your head, so you would go to the gardens and climb up a tree with Jayce and just sit in silence. Of course, after a while you would start to mock the prince's voice and he would try not to laugh because it's disrespectful but he'd break as you talked about his ugly mustache.

Jayce's room was close to yours as per your request since you were kids. But sometimes you would have secret sleepovers. You'd play dress up with your fancy clothes (until he hit a growth spurt). You'd sneak fruits and sweet treats out of the kitchen and pretend to have a tea party at midnight. You would tell each other secrets; who you liked, what whispers you heard in the halls of the palace.

Hug each other when there was thunder (he'd pretend to be brave but he was probably more scared than you despite being a year older).

You still did that now that you were older. You talked about your future, about the things you hated about being a prince, the ways he won sparring contests that day.

You realized you were in love with him long before you even thought about your coronation. He had no idea he even liked you that way until you were given your first crown.

(I made this part up. Princes only get actual crowns in their coronation after the reigning monarchs die but let's pretend in this made up kingdom that when princes/princesses come of age they are given a small and simple crown with the official title of "monarch in waiting")

It was your birthday! People were happy and proud of the prince they had raised in their kingdom, and the king that you would become. Jayce was specially excited about this, the day you became an adult and got a shiny crown. He woke up first thing in the morning to wake you up with your favorite dessert.

You, on the other hand, were nervous as hell. You knew how diplomacy works, you knew how to govern a kingdom, your parents had been teaching you everything since the day you learned to write and read. But that lingering doubt and anxiety was still eating away at the back of your brain.

Jayce comforted you, he knew well how nauseous this made you feel. He also made sure to tell you how much he believes in you and your competence and capacity for ruling.

The ceremony came. Jayce sat next to his mom with the rest of the council and he watched the way you wore those ceremonial clothes. The way you kneeled and repeated the oath to your kingdom as the new king in waiting.

He watched how serious but determined you looked, ready to become the kind and merciful king you were always meant to be. He felt something stir in his heart, and that's when he realized that he couldn't live without you.

As your mother, the queen, set the crown on your head and the people cheered. He knew why he could never stand those other royals trying to court you.

The ceremony ended and the celebration started. The palace was full of food stalls and people dancing around, probably already drunk only three hours after sundown.

Jayce lost sight of you after the banquet. He thought you would go right to the stall your favorite baker set up but you didn't.

He asked around for you but, since no one had seen you, he went to the place you always went to when you needed time and air.

You were sat on a branch of the tree you both used to climb as kids. You looked at the crown you held in your lap, he couldn't tell what you were feeling.

"What are you doing up there?" You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard his voice, then you looked down at the ground.

"I am... just thinking, Jayce." He smiled sympathetically and carefully climbed up the tree with you, sitting on the base of your branch, hoping it was strong enough.

"You can tell me anything, you know that right? I'm your best friend." He reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I know that... it's simply- now there is more pressure from the neighboring kingdoms to marry. My parents keep saying I should choose with my heart and take my time but I cannot help but notice that worry in their eyes." He pulled you closer to him and pet your hair.

"You... really don't like anybody, do you?" His chest hurt just a tinge when he said that. He could no longer deny his love for you after it dawned on him, not that he wanted to hide it. But you were still a prince, and he was just your advisor.

"That is exactly the problem-" You squeezed him in a hug. "I do love someone. But I cannot be with him..."

"Why not? You- you're so lovable! Have you even seen how many people want to court you?"

You groaned and pushed yourself away from his embrace. "I don't want them. They either like me for my power and my kingdom or for my looks. I want someone who truly knows me..."

"Who is it that you love?"

"It matters not... He does not love me that way."

"Who is it?" He whined out your name like a dog. "Please tell me." You rolled your eyes but sighed fondly. You took a slow, steadying breath and turned to look at him in the eyes.

"His name is Jayce Talis."

It turns out you were wrong. He does love you that way.

[rakubalka]

World's Unluckiest Hunter

Or

South Korea's Black Cat Sung JinWoo AU

Hello I'm back here and currently obsessed with Solo Leveling

And this all started because I saw a tread on here saying the rather than have unbelievable coincidence it's far more interesting (and believable ) to have it happens because this specific idiot is the type to get into this specific shit that no one else will because they know better

__________________

It all started because JinWoo is so unlucky he is practically the Law Of Murphy given human form , and the corresponding (very frequent) close brushes with death that inadvertently pique Ashborn interest are one of the few consistency in all the timelines . He is so unlucky in fact that if Ashborn didn't check (multiple times) he would have thought he was either cursed or had pissed The Monarch Of Transfiguration enough to have specters put on him just to make his life as miserable as possible .

Sung JinWoo is so unlucky in fact that Woo JinChul has a whole theory board of Jinwoo having a curse skill that has put (accidentally or not) on himself as the target 99% of the time . And while the theory might give a somewhat reasonable explanation as to why JinWoo's Hunter career had so many incidents , it still doesn't explain why he was just as unlucky before the Gates were even a thing . They still have most of the records from his hospital visits since he was 4 .

Most people would consider saying hello to Death a life defining moment JinWoo calls it a Thursday . Of course the bad luck also manifests in non-death-courting ways , like having his coffee before a dungeon raid regularly stolen by birds flying by , raining on exactly the days he didn't take his umbrella , accidentally entering Red Gates and such similar things . His highjinks are so infamous in fact that almost all Hunters know him (the S rankers all know him or at least his reputation) , and some even have restraining order on being in one dungeon raid party , mainly because the last time Sung JinWoo and Choi JongIn were on the same team a city wide fire almost started thankfully the rest of the party stoped the fire from claiming more than 4 building . Or the time he and Baek Yoonho while dealing with a dungeon break broke a zoo and mixed the animal and the magic beast . Or the time the newly awakened Hwang Dongsoo almost got beheaded , and subsequently developed PTS from being around Hunter Sung general direction (Thomas Andre found that bit of information especially hilarious until he had to meet South Korea infamous Black Cat) . There were other instances of course , but he rather quickly got banned from going on raids with the S rankers , more so for their peace of mind that his health mind you .

The reason why no one ever accused him of being a false ranker was because considering just how much death-courting he has on a daily basis no one puts it above him so suddenly re-awaken and not even notice . South Korea Hunter population will believe anything no matter how unbelievable it is if Sung JinWoo is in somehow , they have thrown logic and common sense out the window a long time ago when this specific E rank is involved .

Hell even some of the Japanese agree after they got to know Hunter Sung on the numerous times he got put with them on the Juju island raids . First time it was an honest mistake in the system , second time KHA got hacked and the third time a human mistake . And every time he got deployed he always somehow got given to the Japanese Hunters . And you would think that having an obviously foreign Hunter that doesn't speak the same language as them and is a E Rank will make them hate him and blame any death on him , and you would be right if it was any other Hunter . Not Sung JinWoo however , because despite almost burning down the island they had the lowest number of deaths in the whole raid despite being directly behind the S class rankers and acting as support and reinforcement . More than one of the Japanese S ranks wanted to steal the kid after meeting him the first time let alone the 2 other raids that followed , with the only reason as to why they can't take him being Goto Ryuji refusal to pay for the damages that will follow like the time Hunter Cha , Hunter Sung and Hunter Rei accidentally took down a trafficking ring in a perfume factory (the 3 of them smelled like and we're only able to smell roses for 3 week straight ather that ) , and also the fact that the Japanese populace adores Hunter Sung more than Hunter Goto by a large margin doesn't help .

On another note of S rank hunters that want Sung JinWoo in their country we have a specific battle maniac . Had it not been for the Chinese Hunter Association refusal to book him a flight (because they barely keep with his damages let alone adding those of the Black Cat not to mention the political fallout) Liu Zhigang would have stolen the E ranker the moment he is in proximity . He almost did do that the first time he met JinWoo and then proceeded to fall down the stairs 3 flours down , after that he started to try and adopt South Korea's Black Cat . It has yet to be successful . But at least he hasn't broken any bones yet .

The same cannot be said about Thomas Andre who was shocked to learn he was part of the "luckiest" victims , considering he will regain mobility of his body as if nothing had happened . But even he can agree he was kinda begging for it , especially considering he knows way more than most of the effects the Black Cat has on others . After all the only reason Thomas didn't fly to Korea and try to recruit the E rank Hunter was because of Hwang Dongsoo before mentioned trauma , and because he had Hwang Dongsoo before Sung JinWoo he can't take him let he accidentally kill his subordinate . He still curses himself for not finding out about the Black Cat earlier and taking him in .

There was however one thing Sung JinWoo is thankfully to Hwang Dongsoo for . That being having a lizard for an older brother that helped in getting him to meet his unlucky soulmate . Because while JinWoo is a black cat in all its power unluckiness Yoo JinHo is like an orange cat that personally has bad luck . But in an ironic way of fate when around one another they seem to cancel each other , or it would be more correct to say they make themselves moderately lucky and anyone with hostile intentions at them bearing the bad luck they would normally have .

The moment JinWoo comes out as South Korea's 10th S Rank the only real change it made for the majority of Hunters and the KHA was being elevated from Honorary S Rank to Normal S Rank . Because that's how the KHA has treated him an albeit more polite still a problem child , just like the rest of the S ranks

[sleepingdeath-light]

reacting to their crush confessing to them hcs ; various cookies

requested by ; cookie simp anon (event)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | epic | legendary

character(s) ; abyss monarch cookie, ananas dragon cookie, gim cookie, longan dragon cookie, lotus dragon cookie

outline ; “may I request option A (hcs form) for: Abyss Monarch, Lotus Dragon, Longan Dragon, Ananas Dragon, Gim

(and can it be reader confessing to them, thanks!!)”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

abyss monarch cookie

outwardly they appear pretty neutral about your confession, with their expression remaining virtually unchanged aside from the barely-perceptible widening of their eyes, but rest assured your words mean more to them than you may ever realise

it took them so so long to realise that their feelings for you weren’t just platonic, and they’d spent every moment since that little epiphany burying and repressing their crush on you because they were certain that you would never return their feelings and they didn’t want to chase away the only friend they’ve had since leaving sugarteara — so to have you suddenly confess that you have those same feelings for them would come as quite the shock to abyss monarch cookie’s system

they’ll be still and silent for anywhere from a few moments to a few minutes after the true weight of your words hits them, but don’t take it as a form of rejection, they’re just processing everything and trying to come up with an appropriate response

and once they do finally regain their composure and manage to respond to your confession, it’s made immediately obvious that they’re just as in love with you as you are with them even if they don’t outright say those three words — it’s clear from the tremble of their voice, the aversion of their eyes, the flushing of their skin, the shaking of their hands as they grasp at your own, and from the way they look at you when they finally finish saying their piece

warmth, hope, vulnerability, and a love that’s so obvious that you almost forget how nervous you were about being rejected by them

ananas dragon cookie

a little surprised at your confession if only because of the amount of guts it must take for a mortal to attempt to court a dragon — of course your efforts will be rewarded because ananas dragon cookie returns your feelings, but honestly they were expecting to have to be the one pursuing you

they spend a while goading you and almost testing your resolve — oscillating between questioning why you think you’re worthy of being their mate and getting you to fuel their ego and pride by asking you what drew you to them so strongly

(they already knew the answer, of course, but they want to hear you say it)

once you start getting more agitated that they’re comfortable with witnessing, they’ll motion for you to be quiet and tell you that they accept your feelings and will take you as their mate — hiding their own feelings behind a facade of pride and disinterest that you can just barely tell is an act as they invite you to stay with them in their nest for the rest of the day

… or, if they get their way, for the rest of your life

gim cookie

gim cookie another one that goes quiet when you confess to him — but he doesn’t go still, in fact he continues walking ahead (at a slower pace than before) and just politely listens to what you have to say until you’re done, only then turning his full attention to you and responding with a confession of his own

granted, his response isn’t particularly grand or romantic — arguably it’s more underwhelming and blunt than anything else — but it’s so very him that you can’t find it in yourself to complain

(think along the lines of ‘oh, yeah. me too’)

and it does a perfectly fine job of conveying his feelings to you before he moves on to a more pressing topic: finding somewhere comfortable to nap for a while before you have to go your separate ways for the rest of the week (you for your work and him for an exorcism further afield)

(his vote is that the two of you find lodging in the nearby village for once — all of the gim talismans have been set out to dry, and sleeping in a proper bed feels like a nice way to celebrate the start of your relationship, don’t you think?)

longan dragon cookie

interrupts your confession to tell you that they acknowledge your feelings but that they plan to court you at their own pace despite what was just said — it comes across as quite cold and dismissive, and a little disheartening honestly, up until you actually realise that that was basically the closest you’re going to get to longan dragon cookie admitting they have feelings for you

they may not have said that they love you, or even that they like or care for you, but they very bluntly stated that they plan to court you and take you as their mate — not immediately, perhaps not even soon, but the intention is clearly there and that’s enough to soften the blow of what initially came across as a rejection

so… yeah! just be patient and you’ll get what you want from them when they decide they’re ready to take on the responsibilities of having a mortal mate

lotus dragon cookie

they’re not even remotely surprised by your confession, but they do let you voice everything you planned on saying before offering up a response of their own — granted, their silent smile and undivided attention almost definitely makes your anxiety so much worse but rest assured that their intention isn’t to intimidate you

they draw out their own confession a bit just to make you squirm, but they don’t last longer than a minute or so before they’re calmly insisting that you have nothing to worry about and that they feel the same way for you

… granted their phrasing is slightly different and could easily come across as a bit patronising if you didn’t know them as well as you did at that point, but the message is still the same

they request that you stay with them for the rest of the day after that, sending their servants off to prepare your favourite meal to celebrate (and to organise a room for you to stay in afterwards as they don’t plan on letting the day end early)

[manfuckthisimout]

You can be Alice, I’ll be the Mad Hatter

Mad Hatter! Yoongi x f!reader

Warnings: none, all characters are of consensual age Genre: Fluff, Oneshot Word Count: 2,688 words (yikes!)

A/N: this is an expirement, I wanted reader to not quite be alice, but someone who came before and stayed in wonderland. Reader is also around 19-22. March hare is supposed to be Kookie, mouse is supposed to be Jimin. Inspired by lots of renditions of the Mad Hatter, AIWL 2010 by Tim Burton, the AIWL ballet where the Mad Hatter tap dances (I thought he was hot when I was a kid), a frankenstein's monster of Mad Hatters! It may be a little out of character for Mouse and Hare but I wanted to write in some members and I chose who I thought fit best. ANYWAY, My requests are open, hope you enjoy!

It had been a while since you first fell into wonderland. You were about 17 at the time, but you can't remember for sure, as time is unpredictable here. You had been found by the red and white queen after you fell, and the two monarchs briefly fought for your place in their court.

The white queen had won the argument, and you were swiftly placed in her court as a lady, enjoying grand balls and living a life of luxury. Through all this still, you couldn't help but feel something in your life was missing. Something thrilling, exciting.

It was when you felt this feeling that you started taking walks around the grounds of the castle, slowly evolving from just the castle grounds to the area surrounding those grounds, and then the woods around that area. One day you got lost, wandering to find your way back to where you started.

“Damn,” You mutter. It appears you’ve gotten even more lost than you were initially. You're in thick woods, no houses, paths or markers to indicate where you could possibly be. “I shouldn’t have walked this far, damn it all.” Stumbling through the woods a little more, you see the beginning of some hedges. “What’s this?” You wonder. “I’ve never seen this before. Is this the beginning of the red queen’s maze?” You press on further, the sound of faint singing getting louder as you do.

“It’s one minute until tea time Hare, take your seat so we can start!”

What in the hells? Tea time? In the middle of the woods? How peculiar.

After walking a few more hedges, there's a small opening to peek through. There’s a little gate between two hedges, a kind of window opening acting as a door as well. You take your skirts, bunching them up and crouching to get a peek over the gate.

Before you is a long table dressed with mismatched teapots and cups. The tablecloth is stained, once a brilliant white with flowers adorning it, now a more cream brown, donning lots of tea stains. Sitting at this table are three men—well, a man and two human-like creatures? One has a brown mop of hair atop his head, a pair of coke bottle glasses on his face, and two little mouse ears with a tail. He’s dressed quite meekly, a tweed brown suit vest and deeper brown slacks. The second of the three is more eccentric than the former. Two bunny ears sticking straight up from his blonde hair. He is wearing a green corduroy suit jacket, his vest a canary yellow, and he has a little pocket watch in his hands, tossing it between left and right.

The third and final gentleman is the most eccentric of them all. His hair is a bright, firey orange--a mauve hat sitting crookedly atop his head to match his equally mauve suit. His vest is an olive green, yellow striped sleeved peeking from his just-to-small suit jacket, barely held in place by his rubbed shiny copper cufflinks. He has some whimsical, informal handsomeness you think.

Oh, he's looking at you! While you were far in your thoughts observing the three men, they noticed your poorly concealed presence. "Why, Hello Madam! Fancy a spot of tea on this merry un-birthday?" The man in the hat speaks to you, looking almost through your soul with his hazel-green eyes. The other two soon follow in their staring.

"Oh! I-I..." You start to stumble over your words, "There's no need to hide behind the gate, any and all are welcome to tea with the Mad Hatter!" He stands from his spot at the table and approaches the gate, leaning over it—and your crouching form, to offer you a gloved hand and quizzical head-tilt. You take his hand, muttering a shy "Thank you.."

Ever since then, weekly walks turned to weekly teas, the hatter learning your identity and how you came to wonderland quickly into the affair. You go back to the hedge garden every week, enjoying exciting antics and ridiculous conversation. In fact, that's exactly where you're heading now.

In your hands is a picnic basket; full to bursting with jams, cookies, and cheeses—all from the finery of the white queen's castle—and your lace parasol. You take the same route you do every time—through the forest and directly to the hedges. You're always early to tea time nowadays, more eager to see only one of your three companions.

The Hatter—with his witty conversation, cooky nature, and seeming gentleness with you—hasn't failed to take a piece of you. A crush started to develop, its long spindly fingers grabbing a hold of your heart and grasping for dear life. But that's not important now, there's a very jolly tea to attend.

"You're here quite early, don't you think?" A voice from behind you says. You startle. "Oh Hatter, you scared me!" You say, swatting at him playfully as he dodges only to grap both of your wrists and hold them out in front of you both. "My apologies, dear Y/N. It was not my intention to startle you." He holds your wrists there, gazing into your eyes as you both seem to breathe in unison. "I have never noticed," He leans in, "Just how beautiful you are." You breathe a sigh, belly suddenly filled with butterflies. Your eyes flit around his face, noticing the subtle twitch of his button nose, the way his eyes shine when they look at you. He's studying you heavily, eyes dropping from you brows, to your nose, to your mouth, chin, neck, clavicle...

"What do we have here?" The Hatter's eyes shoot up, just a few inches from your now heaving busom. You snatch yourself away from him, bringing your basket protectively to your abdomen. "Hello hare," The Hatter starts, "You're just in time for tea." Hatter goes to sit in his place a the table. "Hatter-" You start. "Well, how marvelous a day it is! Mouse brought cards to play after tea!" Hare seems excited, proudly whipping back to snatch cards out of Mouse's timid hands. Mouse lets out a squeak, but quickly protests at the taking of his cards. "Hey, give those back! I found those fair and square, they're mine!"

Hare sticks out his tounge, skipping to his chair while mouse fidgets after his cards. You shake your head amused at the display, and with a chuckle, take your seat at the table. Right next to Hatter. Your eyes flick over to him, but you find he's already staring at you. His gaze is intense, and you have to look away to save your sanity.

This will be a hard afternoon tea.

"So Lady Y/N, how is court at the castle?" Mouse asks. You turn to him, smirking at the question. "Oh, boring as usual. Many less cat fights to report than last week." "A shame inedeed, I was quite looking forward to hearing if Lady Juliet tore off Madam Cathrine's face." Hare remarks, reaching for jam and a cookie to spread it on. You bring your cup to you lips, snickering into it. "Yes, that would be quite the story to hear." It's Hatter's turn to remark, still staring holes into the side of your face.

"Oh Lady Y/N, these cookies and jam are exquisite! You truly spoil us with such things." "Oh, it's nothing Hare. The queen is quite fond of me, so I get extra food easily. It's the least I could do for all of you, after letting me join your parties." "Nonsense! You're by far the best addition to our humble troupe, Lady Y/N!" Mouse seems especially determined as he says this, standing up suddenly and rushing to your side to take your hands. "Thank you Mouse, that's very sweet of you." You beam. "I've had quite enough of this sweetness, of with you mouse. Go hide away into your teapot or something." The Hatter has an icy glare and even icier words for Mouse. It seems he's somewhat bothered by the other man's display.

"Oh- I shall not hide away! I'm only telling her the truth!" Mouse argues back. Hatter stands suddenly, a teapot in his hands. "Begone you absolute creature you! I won't say it again!" He races after poor mouse in a fury, chasing him into the safety of his giant teapot at the other end of the table. He sneers at the teapot, stomping back over to his seat and plopping down into it.

"Well..." You start, eyes nervously flitting between the teapot and the Hatter. "Why don't we play some cards, yes?" Hare suggests. "It might lighten your mood Hatter!" You turn to him, eyes pleading for a yes. He looks back. "...fine. But only if I get to pick the game." "Alright!" Hare hands you the cards, and you pass them to Hatter, fingers brushing—sending a tingle up your arm.

"I choose go fish. First player with four books wins." Hatter starts to shuffle the cards, dealing the three of you six cards each. "Let's make this more interesting, hm? The player who wins gets a kiss from Lady Y/N." Hare offers. Your head whips up, face a dark flush. "Wait a minute, what do you mean a kiss?!-" "I'm up to that, how about you Y/N?" You turn to Hatter incredulously. "I say no kiss! Why me?" "Oh come now Y/N, it would only be a peck on the cheek, nothing more!"

You hesitate for a second, mulling over the suggestion. "...alright then. But only a peck on the cheek, nothing else!" "Alright then, let's play!"

You three go through 4 rounds, asking eachother if they have a card you're looking and pulling from the pool. By the end of the second round, Hare is losing. By the middle of the third, he's out of the game. "Well, I guess this is the end for me. Ill go check on mouse—poor thing must still be terrified after to antagonized him so severly. Win that kiss for me, hm?" Hare darts off to the other end of the table, opening the lid to the teapot and peering in.

"What makes him so sure you're going to win?" You remark, side-eyeing Hatter. "Says the one with only two books while I'm working on my fourth." "Hey! It's not my fault Hare had none of the cards I needed—you don't have any threes do you?" "Oh yes, blame it on the game and not your skill—no, I don't have any threes, go fish." You reach into the pile of cards between the two of you, pulling out a five instead of a three. You sigh. "I assume that's a five?" He grins. "How did you know, are you, cheating perhaps?" "Of course not, and I will take no such accusations against myself." He reaches his hand out, palm flat and eyes on yours. "Now hand me that five, and let me claim my prize."

His wording sends another tingle down your spine, as if his firey stare wasn't enough on its own. "And why should I? You didnt even ask properly." You raise your brow at him, feigning indifference. "Oh, my apologies, my Lady. Do you have any fives in that hand?" "As a matter of fact I don't. Go fish." You grin at him as he grimaces. "I may remind you that it's not a'tall lady-like to lie." You stick your tounge out at him "That isn't lady-like either. Are they teaching you any manners at that castle?" Hatter reaches for the pool, and the bastard has the nerve to pull out a five. "Well, would you look at that?" He places the five into his last book, cards askew and all over the place—if it were anyone else playing they wouldn't be able to tell who's books were who's.

Hatter turns to you, grin as big as the cheshire cat's. "It appears that I've won." You grimace. "Yes, it does seem that way, unfortunately." "Unfortunate for whom? I see this as a pure and fair win." "Yes, much like the raven and the writing desk." While you suddenly find the table and the cards quite interesting, Hatter is staring into your face. "Don't I get my prize?" "When you stop being such an arse, maybe." You glare at him. He turns to the direction of Hare and Mouse, ready to boast about his 'miraculous' win.

It's also at this time you decide to get the kiss over with, leaning into his cheek, ready to peck. "Do you hear that Hare?! I won, fair and-"

Hatter suddenly turns his head back to you as your planting your kiss onto his cheek.

Your lips touch.

His are surprisingly soft, for a madman who you've never seen take any care into his appearance.

You yank your head back just as quickly as you planted the kiss. It was only a little peck, but it was on his lips—not his cheek like you agreed.

Your eyes widen, positively mortified by what you've just done.

Hatter just sits there, star-struck.

"Oh." Hare says, he and Mouse now staring at you two. "Should we leave?" Mouse whispers. "I think we should. Um, tea was wonderful as always! So was go fish. See you two lovebirds next week!" Hare takes Mouse and scurries to the gate, disappearing behind the hedges.

You can't process much, everything besides your heartbeat fading into the background of static that's now consuming all of your senses. You've just kissed The Mad Hatter--your giant, fat crush for a month or so. You haven't even told the queen, haven't had to, she already has a way of knowing these things--let alone the man himself. And now you've gone and kissed him on the lips. Great!

You slowly come to your senses, shyly turning your head while your fingers cover your mouth. The Hatter is still staring at you, wide-eyed. He hasn't said a word since your lips touched.

"I'm so sorry Hatter, I was only trying to-" Your turn to him, starting to come up with some excuse--any excuse--anything to get you out of this mortifying situation--of course he doesn't like you, why would he, stupid girl-

"No. Don't do that. Don't pull away."

His hands suddenly hold you face, either hand holding either cheek.

"I...I want this Y/N. I know you've had a crush on me--I was going to do something about it today if it weren't for those two gits-" His eyes close, and he shakes the frustration out of his head. This man...what is he saying? He knew you were crushing on him? Do something about it? Do what? "What do you mean, Hatter?"

After a long pause, he answers. "I've had a crush on you too. I was too scared to do anything about it until now--i thought you were untouchable--that I wasn't nearly good enough for you." How silly. Two fools in love, worried that the other didn't feel the same.

The Hatter--someone you though could only see you as a friend--was standing here in a new light, gentle, caring, soft. He was baring his soul to you--and he reciprocated your crush. You, the White Queen's lady-in-waiting--the forbidden fruit he could never taste.

"Do you mean that, Hatter?" "Of course I do my lady." "Then kiss me again. I feel the same. I have for a long while." He does just that—tenderly cupping your face with one hand, your bicep in his other. This time the kiss was sweet, full of promises and whispers of love to come—how wonderful and fuflilling it would be for the both of you.

It felt right, even after you both pulled away from eachother, resting your foreheads on the other's.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers to you, smiling. "I love you too, Hatter." You whisper back, smiling too.

"You owe me a tart from the Red Queen Hare!" You both hear off in the distance. You both chuckle. "Those two...whatever shall we do about them?" "We can worry about that later. I want to stay in this moment for as long as possible." "Sounds good to me."

A/N: That’s all folks! How cute are these two huh? This ended up wayyyyyy longer than i thought it would be lol. Hope you enjoy always! Like and reblog if you did, I would really help out my blog! Also let me know if y’all want a tag list or anything! He’s the Boss pt. 2 is on the way!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

May 15, 2025 (Thursday)

Heather Cox Richardson

May 16, 2025

Perhaps in frustration, this season’s writers of the saga of American history are making their symbolism increasingly obvious.

Today the story broke that a long-neglected document held by Harvard University Law School, believed to be a cheap copy of the Magna Carta, is in fact the real document. More than 700 years ago, the Magna Carta, or Great Charter, established the concept that kings must answer to the law.

King John of England and a group of rebel barons agreed to the terms of the document on June 15, 1215, at Runnymede, a meadow a little less than an hour from London near the River Thames. After the king had raised taxes, barons rebelled, insisting that he was violating established custom. There were rumors of a plot to murder the king, and the barons armed themselves.

Those two armed camps met at Runnymede, where negotiators for the king and the barons hammered out a document with 63 clauses, mostly relating to feudal customs and the way the justice system would operate. But the document also began to articulate the principles central to modern democracies. The Magna Carta established the writ of habeas corpus—a prohibition on unlawful imprisonment—and the concept of the right to trial by jury.

Famously, it put into writing that: “No free man shall be seized, imprisoned, dispossessed, outlawed, exiled or ruined in any way, nor in any way proceeded against, except by the lawful judgement of his peers and the law of the land.” It also provided that “To no one will we sell, to no one will we deny or delay right or justice.”

The Magna Carta placed limits on the king’s ability to tax his subjects and established the law as an authority apart from the king. Anticipating the idea of checks and balances, it set up a council of barons to make sure the king obeyed the charter. If he did not, they could seize his lands and castles until he made amends.

The original charter did not last. King John convinced the pope to declare the document illegal because it circumscribed the power of the monarch, and in reaction, barons fought for the rights outlined in the Magna Carta. After the death of King John in 1216, the Magna Carta was confirmed and reissued, becoming an accepted part of the understanding of British rights. In 1297, and then again in 1300, King Edward I reissued the Magna Carta and confirmed that it was part of England’s law.

The copy in Harvard’s possession is from 1300. Harvard bought the document after World War II for $27.50, about $500 today. It is one of seven original copies of the 1300 Magna Carta, and in the United States of America in 2025, it is priceless.

In the early 1600s, King James I and King Charles I both reasserted the power of the king. Jurist Sir Edward Coke used the Magna Carta to insist that longstanding English customs guaranteed liberties to British subjects and required the king to comply with the law. There were limits to a king’s power to tax his subjects and his power to punish them.

This legal struggle was unfolding just as British subjects were colonizing the North American continent, and the charters of the new colonies echoed Coke’s arguments. The 1629 charter of the Massachusetts Bay Company, for example, established that colonists and, crucially, the children they might have in the colony, “shall have and enjoy all liberties and Immunities of free and naturall Subiects.”

As constitutional scholar Mary S. Bilder notes, lawyers and political figures put into the documents of the early British settlement of North America the belief that liberties were the birthright of English subjects. That belief informed colonists’ opposition to the 1765 Stamp Act, which imposed a new tax to which they had not given their consent and called for those who violated the law to be tried not by a jury of their peers but rather in admiralty courts. The Massachusetts Assembly declared the Stamp Act to be “against the Magna Carta and the natural rights of Englishmen, and therefore, according to Lord Coke, null and void.” British politician William Pitt told Parliament: “The Americans are the sons not the bastards of England.”

In September 1774, as tensions between the king and the colonists intensified, the first Continental Congress met in Philadelphia and wrote a declaration of rights and grievances, claiming the liberties guaranteed by “the principles of the English constitution, and the several charters or compacts.” Showing the unity of the colonies, the Congress published an image of 12 arms holding a column crowned by a liberty cap and resting on the words “Magna Carta.”

In 1776 the colonists threw off the monarchy to establish a government based on the idea that all people must answer to the law. As Thomas Paine wrote in Common Sense: “in America the law is king. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be king; and there ought to be no other.” In 1776 the new states were writing their own constitutions that defended their liberties, including their protection from loss of life, liberty, or property without due process of the law.

That concept went directly into the first ten amendments to the Constitution, known collectively as the Bill of Rights. The Fifth Amendment provided that no “person shall be…deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law,” and in 1868 the Fourteenth Amendment applied that principle to the states as well as the federal government, saying: “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

The Harvard document is not the only Magna Carta in the U.S. In 2007, philanthropist David Rubenstein bought a 1297 copy of the Magna Carta from former presidential candidate Ross Perot. It was the only copy in the U.S., and Perot had permitted the National Archives to display it. Rubenstein bought the document for $21.3 million, hoping to keep it in the U.S. “to ensure that Americans could continue to see it, and to thereby be continuously reminded of its importance to our country.” He promptly lent it to the National Archives for public display, “as modest repayment of my debt to this country for my good fortune in being an American.”

And yet the fundamental principles on which the government of the United States is based are under attack. In an interview that aired on Sunday, May 4, President Donald J. Trump told NBC’s Kristen Welker that he “didn’t know” if persons in the United States had a right to due process. When Welker reminded him that the right to due process is written into the Fifth Amendment, he said: “I don’t know. It seems—it might say that, but if you’re talking about that, then we’d have to have a million or two million or three million trials.”

Musician Bruce Springsteen has no doubts about those rights, embedded as they are in the country’s DNA. At a concert in Manchester, England, yesterday, he warned: “In America, the richest men… [are]... abandoning our great allies and siding with dictators against those struggling for their freedom. They’re defunding American universities that won’t bow down to their ideological demands. They’re removing residents off American streets and, without due process of law, are deporting them to foreign detention centers and prisons. This is all happening now.” He criticized lawmakers who have “no…idea of what it means to be deeply American.”

And yet, Springsteen told the crowd: “The America that I’ve sung to you about for 50 years is real and, regardless of its faults, is a great country with a great people, so will survive this moment.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[gingersnaptaff]

(Okay, so I know I said I was gonna do marriage laws and queenship stuff in regards to welsh laws - and I will! - but here is a nice, quick round-up about BARDS

*SHREDS ON A HARP*

Okay, so this is inspired by @gawrkin 's recent posts on bards because the laws surrounding them are SUPER FUN. And Wales LOVES LOVES LOVES their bards. (Myself included.)

Right, so, without further ado, ONWARDS.

*shreds harp aggressively again*

So the 'spurious triads' the author is referring to are presumably to do with IOLO MORGANNWG *ominous thunderclap*.

I shan't go too much into him as suffice to say, we gotta keep this shit SHORT, but he was a massive forger from Glamorgan (that's what Morgannwg means. It's his bardic name. Iolo is Edward.) who made up a bunch of triads and Celtic / medieval manuscripts including some of the Welsh Triads. Also, he is the reason why the Eisteddfod has the Gorsedd of bards.

So a mixed bag, y'know.

ANYWAY. They're very high-rank on account of being the literally Yellow Pages of Celtic and medieval Welsh societies. If you had a question that needed answering you'd ask a bard. They were like Google. They would know a man's lineage (and Welsh lineages are confusing. There were men named Dafydd ap Dafydd ap Dafydd ap Dafydd. No, I'm not joking.) battles, monarchs, myths, songs, stories. Anything.

And they had to SING. And play an instrument. Namely either a harp or a crwth.

This baby is crwth! It's a little like a violin but much darker in tone. They were extinct for a while but they've undergone a revival and they are FUN!

Also, the court bard had to SING to the queen about Camlann 'in a low voice.' I've heard various reasons suggested as to why and one of them is to remind her that Gwenhwyfar's infidelity was the main reason for King Arthur's downfall, but I think it's probably because of The Slap. Idk though. I'm just guessing, buddies.

Still, it's cool that the queen got a special sing-song.

Also, the bard being 'invested with a chess board' suggests to me that the game of Gwyddbwyll that Arthur and Owain play in the Mabinogion signals that they're bards. Gwyddbwyll being the type of chess the bards would've been familiar with. Plus, we know Arthur is somewhat of an amateur bard (Culhwch and Olwen being the prime example where he sings his terrible englyn about Cai to his face. Arthur, ur a fuckin BASTARD.) so it's in keeping with his character.

Also, I think it's adorable that the harp 'always descended to the youngest son.'

If you want a story that deals with bards and their privileged position in Welsh society and also wants ur heart RIPPED OUT may I suggest 'The Assembly of the Severed Head' by Hugh Lupton. It deals with a bard in a monastery after he's almost perished in a raid and the monks writing out the Mabinogion so they can give it to Llywelyn Fawr. It deals with war, love, loss, and also stonking good historical context. Also lots of poetry!!!!

Final fact: bards in Wales weren't wiped out by Edward the First. That's a fuckin myth. Don't come round here with ur fuckin myths. Old Longshanks has done enough already. May he eat shit.

(Also, Taliesin gets all the good rep but what about my boy Aneirin?)

Okay, BYEEEEE!!!!

P.S.: have an Eisteddfod chair!

[queenie-official]

‘The Royal Heart’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin series Masterlist (currently on Hiatus)

pairing: Bridgerton Au!Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader

Summary: reader is the crown princess of Alderaan and it’s almost time for her to be crowned queen. only a problem presents itself, her people question her power because she doesn’t have a husband. when the royal court take it into there own hands to find a royal to marry she is forced to find a way to make it work

a/n: i try to describe very vaguely what reader looks like so anyone can place themselves in her shoes while reading 💋 all photos used are just for aesthetics and general reference. i am 100% not claiming this to be time accurate 😭 im definitely taking creative liberties. also for reference though, i picture this happening around the 1760’s so if anything this is more of a reverse Queen Charlotte bridgerton story au

The royal heart on ao3

The royal Heart on Wattpad

Chapter 1: To Find A King posted: 11/22/23

Chapter 2: From Kingdom To Kingdom posted: 11/23/23

Chapter 3: First Impressions posted: 11/24/23

Chapter 4: The Groom To Be posted: 11/25/23

Chapter 5: A Royal Wedding posted: 11/26/23

Chapter 6: The Truth posted: 11/27/23

Chapter 7: Something New posted: 11/29/23

Chapter 8: Coronation Day posted: 11/29/23

Chapter 9: The Uncovered Tragedy posted: 11/30/23

Chapter 10: In Sickness And In Health posted: 12/3/23

Chapter 11: The Murder Of A Monarch posted: 12/3/23

Chapter 12: A Royal Scandal posted: 12/5/23

Chapter 13: One Thousand Apologies posted: 12/7/23

chapter 14: Distractions posted: 12/13/23

Chapter 15: Meet the Family posted: 12/13/23

Chapter 16: Great Big Race posted: 12/13/23

Chapter 17: A Royal Ball posted: 12/13/23

brief PSA posted: 1/8/24

brief PSA 2.0 (corsets!) posted: 2/13/24

Chapter 18: A New Era posted: 2/14/24

….more to come!

[three-crows-in-hiking-boots]

WoF Worldbuilding: Court Positions

The Courts of Pyrrhan and Pantalan royals are made up of many moving parts. A Monarch can't rule on their own!

The court hierarchy is as follows:

Monarch/Queen: Monarch is used for most "queens" who don't identify as female, though Queen is the default. Referred to as "Your Grace/Your Majesty/Queen or Monarch [Name]" King/Queen Consort: Referred to as "Your Grace/Queen or King Consort or Consort [Name]" Royal Family: The monarch's offspring (biological or otherwise) who may or may not hold other positions within the court. Referred to as "Prince/Princess [name]" Royal Advisors: The exact positions depend on the exact kingdom. Referred to as "Advisor [Name]" Generals/Commanders: High-ranking military/guards are often parts of a council held by the Monarch. Referred to as "General [Name]" Lords/Ladies: The family of the Monarch and their Consort, may hold other titles as well. May be aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, etc. Referred to as "Lord/Lady [Name]" Ambassador(s): Referred to as "Ambassador [Name]" Guards: Referred to as just their name Royal Staff: "Servants" as scavengers would call them, though any and all positions within the Courts are valued. Include the cooks, smiths, favored craftsmen/artisans, assistants, etc

Not all courts are built the same, however. For example, the IceWing and NightWing courts follow this structure, while RainWings follow a looser structure.

Below the cut: The ranks for each court

SandWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Generals/Commanders

Guards

Royal Staff: -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

*Being a more harsh community (especially after the War of SandWing Succession), most Monarchs don't hold an advisory council like other tribes, instead tending to rule with a spy/informant network as well as their own knowledge of the territory

MudWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family- Unlike other tribes, Advisors, Generals, Guards, and the Steward are chosen from the Monarch's Troop, and are also considered part of the Royal Family. If the Monarch decides to rule with a Consort, the Consort's Troop may be merged with the Monarch's (though to what degree is dependent on the Troop's cohesiveness). If the Troop isn't large enough or is no longer together, other dragons may be put into place

Royal Staff -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

SkyWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Spies & Defense -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

SeaWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Aquaculture -> Communication -> Defense -> Dragonet Care -> Hunting -> Magic & Publishing -> Dragon Health -> Justice -> Secrets & Spies -> Treasury -> War

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

IceWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Spies & Defense -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Research/Sciences -> Abilities & Magics

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

RainWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Education -> Defense -> Laws -> Diplomacy -> NightWing Connections

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

NightWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Spies & Defense -> Treasury -> Magic & Abilities -> Education -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Research/Sciences

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

LeafWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Defense -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Research/Sciences

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

HiveWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Spies & Defense -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Research/Sciences -> Powers & Abilities

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

SilkWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Education -> Abilities -> Arts & Commerce

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

BeetleWings

Monarch/Queen

King/Queen Consort

Royal Family

Royal Advisors -> Treasury -> Education -> Spies & Defense -> Laws & Courts -> Diplomacy -> Research/Sciences -> Powers & Abilities

Generals/Commanders

Lords/Ladies

Ambassador(s)

Guards

Royal Staff -> Steward- manages the fortress and directs the other staff -> Monarch's Personal Aid- Assists the monarch in their daily duties -> Head Cook/Cooks- Prepares meals for the fortress residents -> Dragonet Tender- watches over the royal dragonets as well as any dragonets belonging to any other court members

[inky-duchess]

Hi duchess, I'm a little new to writing about royalty/royalty adjacent themes and I need a little help.

(Fantasy setting) so, I have this prince, only child, in line for the crown of E, who has to be protected from an armed group that wants to take the monarchy out. The king selects a young boy, same age as the prince, to "switch" places with his son (he is both a double, and later trained as a bodyguard). This boy is the son of the captain of the guard. I was thinking "no title, but good family" sort of thing. They grow up together and become really close friends.

What age is a good age for this boy to be knighted? Is there a minimum age? (I don't think anyone would knight an 8 year old, but into their teenage years, is there a recommended age?)

Would it be seen as a slight by the court if the king/prince didn't knight this boy who has saved the prince's life a thousand times? When they're 17 the switch becomes public knowledge, and by the princess' of S interference the king acknowledges this boy's work and sacrifice, but no title. So the court knows what he has done

This princess (also inheriting a crown) from another richer, more powerful, kingdom S (allied to this one) grows up with them, they're bffs, she's in on the switch, and ofc in love with the peasant. Could she somehow force the prince or the king to knight the boy? Or get the boy (and his family) out of the kingdom and employ them herself in S?

I'm pretty sure the boy leaving E would be considered treason, and his family would be threatened to get him to stay, cause he is a liability in another kingdom that could crush E. But would E risk upsetting S over a (very lovely) bodyguard? While good for drama, it seems a bit excessive...

Idk if that made sense, I apologize if it didn't, English isn't my first language and I'm translating this as I go. Thanks in advance!

He should be knighted around his mid-late teens but the monarch doesn't have to give them anything but it would be expected at very least, this kid and his family risked his life for the royal family and though it may be seen as an honour, you would expect something out of it.

No, not treason at all. If the boy's job is done, he has every right to leave the country. It would however be treason if he compromised (shagged or at least was rumoured to do it) the Crown Princess of S, especially if she was going to marry the real prince. But if he left the country to take up a job with her.

(your English is excellent, please never apologise x)

[thevelaryons]

Last episode, Corlys became Hand of the Queen. His sole action in the council meeting he attended in episode 6 was to summon someone into the room like he was a court herald. Now, his sole action in episode 7's council meeting is to say they need to wait for the Queen before making a decision.

One of the main purposes of the Hand is to act when the monarch is unavailable, which Rhaenyra is often enough.

The Hand of the King was the second-most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. He spoke with the king’s voice, commanded the king’s armies, drafted the king’s laws. At times he even sat upon the Iron Throne to dispense king’s justice, when the king was absent, or sick, or otherwise indisposed.

— A Game of Thrones, Eddard I

Corlys is just holding an empty honor at this point if he refuses to act in place of the absent Rhaenyra.