#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)

[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.

[queenie-official]

‘The Royal Heart’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin series Masterlist

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!

[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!

[crusera]

The Sultan, they said, was a good man. Soft, quickly moved to tears. Out of compassion, he bought the freedom of a Christian woman's stolen daughter. Even Walther von der Vogelweide, the minnesinger in distant Germany, praised the "mildness" of the powerful ruler in the Orient, whose name has a good reputation in the West: Saladin, a righteous man.

He was a man who always kept his word, even to his enemies.

He let his subjects drag him to court, because God's laws applied equally to everyone. Also for him, the ruler who managed to do what no one had ever managed before: to unite the Islamic world of the Middle East after centuries of discord and to wrest Jerusalem, the holy city of the Muslims, from the Christians in 1187.

His name translates as "righteousness of faith", and Saladin is indeed a devout Muslim. Nevertheless, after his conquest of the Holy Land, he allowed the Christians and Jews there to continue praying to their God. This is another reason why, more than half a millennium later, Western Enlightenment thinkers would make him the epitome of the tolerant ruler.

But this al-Malik an-Nasir Salah ad-Din Abu'l-Muzaffer Yusuf ibn Ayyub ibn Shadi, known as Saladin for short, also had other sides.

He could be treacherous, vile and mean. He did not shy away from murder. Nevertheless, this man fascinated his contemporaries. He became one of the most revered rulers of the Islamic world and the most important opponent of the Crusaders.

Saladin was born in 1138 in Tikrit (in present-day Iraq), the son of a Kurdish officer. During his political career, Saladin was the first to bring Egypt's army under his control.

Saladin, a Sunni, now founds two universities where theology is taught according to Sunni theology - a signal that he is on the side of the population. He also abolished a number of taxes that contradicted the Koran and the teachings of the Prophet.

Saladin's subsequent conquests shock the Christian world. By 1174, his power extended from North Africa to the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula. In 1186, he ruled from the Nile to the Tigris.

At the height of his power, the Sultan even dreamed of taking the Holy War to Europe, conquering Rome - and putting the Pope in chains.

The Crusaders conquered Jerusalem in 1099 and held it until Saladin besieged it in 1187 and handed it over to the Ayyubid dynasty, a Muslim sultanate that ruled the Middle East at the beginning of the 12th century.

Saladin wanted to recapture the city, which had previously been ruled by Muslims.

For Muslims, Jerusalem is a place where important events in the life of Jesus and other important personalities took place. It is also the place where the Prophet Mohammed ascended to heaven according to the traditional interpretation of the Koran and other texts.

In Sunni Islam, Jerusalem is the third holiest city after Mecca and Medina. Muslims believe that Muhammad was brought to Jerusalem during his night journey (Isra and Mi'raj).

The name Jesus is mentioned twenty-five times in the Holy Qur'an, often in the form 'Isa ibn Maryam, which means "Jesus, son of Mary". In the Quran, he is given the unique title "Messiah" (al-masih in Arabic), which means "anointed one". He is considered one of many prophets from the lineage of the Prophet Ibrahim, or Abraham (peace be upon him). Many Muslim traditions regard it as an ideal example of spirituality. Unlike Christians, who generally believe in a triune God, Muslims believe that Jesus was a great prophet who was to lead mankind on the straight path of monotheism and obedience to God (Allah).

When Jerusalem also fell, two kings and an emperor set off for the Holy Land with their armies from 1189 onwards. One of the monarchs is King Richard I of England. Even before the armed pilgrimage, he had already earned himself an honourable name: "Lionheart."

Saladin lies in wait for the Christians in the forests of Arsuf near the Mediterranean coast. But King Richard of England had anticipated the attack; on 7 September 1191, his troops won a clear victory. Nevertheless, the Muslim army is still strong enough to block the road to Jerusalem.

Saladin's reconquest of Jerusalem in 1187 prompted Pope Gregory VIII to organize the Third Crusade. From 1189 to 1192, Saladin lost Acre and Jaffa and was defeated in the field at Arsūf. The Crusaders retreated to Europe without seizing Jerusalem, but Saladin's military reputation had been damaged. He died in 1193.

[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!

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

https://www.tumblr.com/brf-rumortrackinganon/770394924876234753/the-minute-prince-george-was-born-harrys-rpo

As far as I know, yup, Harry’ s security was never downgraded until they left. But he never had the same security that Charles and William had. In the court papers there were listed many levels of security so we could see that he had better security than Anne and Edward but less than W.

I don’t remember the changes between levels but his security was never downgraded with George’s or Louis’ birth , just until he left. And that’s why the Queen and I don’t remember if Chuck too, wrote a letter that they needed protection post Royal life because he was a veteran and they both were international known.

But RAVEC and MET police agreed that he cannot have security because he isn’t working royal, doesn’t matter if he is a veteran or whatever and that’s why he has a bespoke security when he travels to UK, they also said that there aren’t real threats to him, so he doesn’t need more of what he is already given. And I suspect they also told him that because he was 6th in line, he wasn’t important anymore to have the same security (I mean, he can’t complain, his cousins Bea and Eugenie, Zara don’t have any privilege; he is lucky to receive the bespoke arrangement because he threw the excuse of being the son of the monarch, but they don’t have any responsibility to give it to him)

What I don’t understand is that he insists that they didn’t want to give security to his wife, if she would have it once she was married with him. If she wouldn’t be a working royal, she wouldn’t have received it 24/7, but she was

That's the rub - Harry and Meghan wanted her to have 24/7 permanent security without having to work for it. They thought it'd be enough for her to be married to him with a title (since they think that's how Kate qualified for it) and when that didn't work, threw the race card and the Diana card around.

[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)

[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

[b000mbayah]

Hii I love your yandere writings! Can I please request yandere aespa's reaction to s/o killing or hurting someone for them out of jealousy?

-🎀 (if emoji isn't taken yet 💗)

Yandere!Aespa reaction to their S/O killing someone for them out of jealousy

·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷

Word count: 2,217

Warnings: murder, blood, self identity crisis

A/n: Hiii, thank you for your support 🎀 anon!! I chose the murder/killing route for a more permanent effect on the lovely girls of aespa. I hope that's okay 😅

·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷⋆·˚ *ೃ⁀➷

The very last words that you utter in your entire life, right before you die, are pretty telling, no? What you say on your deathbed, or if you know you're going to die- you'll always be searching, searching for someone you know so you can tell them that you love and appreciate them before you succumb to your inevitable demise…

It all has an impact.

You knew that, the world knew that, so there were laws set in place.

In 1752, the Act for 'better preventing horrid crime of murder' was passed into the law system after swiftly moving through Commons and the Lords and receiving royal assent from the monarch themselves.

And that was one country alone.

Several other countries have since created the term of criminal offence and justice as buildings like law firms, prisons, courts, and far more were built on a regular basis.

Crime rates dropped significantly around most of the world, and with a world developing at the fastest it has ever been, murder is next to impossible to get away with…

And yet, you still climbed through those restrictions and laws to make such a bold point.

It was unintentional- or so you told yourself- but deep down you know a part of you has malicious intentions, that you had secretly and unknowingly wanted to do this to the female who had caused you great frustration.

The woman had bought your girlfriend a drink, just one drink, but soon that one drink turned into two drinks, then three, and all of a sudden she was a whole new person- except not really.

She had the same problematic and cocky look in her eyes when she took her seat next to your girlfriend as she did when you pulled her out of it.

But now that look was diminished, almost banished from her eyes as she looked up at you with a coldness, her eyes coaxed in a fixed frosty numbness, gone grey and aged apparent with apathy. There was no love left in those eyes, not even fear or regret, but only a growing extermination.

You felt almost as if this was the arrival of the zombie apocalypse, and you dread the lack of pre-warning and preparing from the occasion because it happened all too fast. You quickly began to fear the unrealistic possibility of her subconscious eyes staring back at you with a mind still manufacturing thoughts behind them, and thought the living had all grown quite mad with themselves and the judgmental society.

She would be right too- her zombified mind that would serve no real purpose- and it's drilling nightmares into your skull already. The educational advantages she could then have over you is jarring, but maybe you were just overreacting.

I mean- the delusions had caught up to you. As someone who's never committed such a violation in their life, surely you were bound to find some emotions within yourself.

It was apparent, however, that you lacked guilt, responsibility and even a genuine care for what you've done. Only a makeshift of impossible thoughts play on repeat.

You're not quite sure how long you had been staring into her already half sunken eyes when the sound of steady footsteps sunk in.

You hadn't had enough time to dispose of the body, or to clean her of your fingerprints, or to mentally prepare yourself, or to-, or to-

Karina

"Y/n?"

Your blood ran cold. The loving voice of someone all too familiar turned daunting as it called out your name. You could hear it, your ears hyper fixated on it as it bounces from one black bag full of unknowing trash to the next. It echoed down the narrow walls of the alley. It rippled your mindset.

"K-karina" you so stupidly called back, your tongue freezing as a stalemate claws at your gone dry throat.

"What are you doing down here… Oh?" Shamefully, you turned your head to the voice. You could feel your heart rate skyrocket in comparison to before you were caught red handed- quite literally. Your head spun, and your vision dotted with various shades of black as you began to wobble on the spot.

Karina- having noticed this- carefully made her way over to you, a grin quickly growing on her face as she moves her hands to stabilise you, ensuring you stay standing.

"You murdered her, right?" At her words, all you could do was let out a sudden sob of regret, your head turning to your feet.

You could feel Karina pull you closer. She didn't intentionally mean to make you sob. She didn't mean to make you feel worse. Karina only wanted to confirm that you were the culprit and that some stranger hadn't just handed the crime off to you.

"I did! I did, Karina! I did, I'm a horrible person," you shook, your limbs vibrating with an uncertain fear.

"No, you're not," she breathed, placing a gentle kiss along your hairline. "You're not a horrible person. You did what you had to do to keep what was yours"

"At the cost of a life-"

"Hey-" Karina whispers, her hands cradling the sides of your face. "It was you or her. I'm glad it was you who won"

"I guess…" You frown into her hold, eyes growing saggy under the impression of your impending tears.

"Please don't cry, how about we go home and I'll deal with this later? I promise nothing will happen to you, or me"

"You promise?" You look up at her through glassy eyes, your vision having grown hazed in the span of her reassuring.

"Pinky promise"

Giselle

Her brain had stuttered for a moment, her eyes relying on the dingy light that ricochets from one cracked brick wall to the next graffitied one. Her eyes took in everything. The blood. The body.

You.

At the cost of her heart nagging, her brain finally catches up. It’s almost as if she had rebooted herself. Eyes of plentiful confusion had seemingly now evolved into a stance of understanding, an understanding that has her every pulse buzzing with a haywired hazed.

It's like a splash of refreshing cold water to her face as she takes another step, completely unsheathing herself for you to bask upon. However, your face only remained stoic, and your shoulders squared back. Your eyebrows were tensed, and your lips straight as you locked eyes, your own ones going glassy almost immediately.

But still… you remained stoic…

Giselle watched you tentatively with a challenging gaze, her eyes sizing you up and down like you were her opponent instead of her lover- and she knew she wanted the latter far more.

Eventually, your arm shook with a sporadic violence, your limb spiralling with limited control as if you were to lash out again. Your hand clasped your weapon with a trembling grasp, fingers gone sweaty and shiny against the blade of your gone sticky kitchen knife. Knuckles sprawling with a pale outcast, the whiteness of your bones showing through in mosaic patterns one could trace and paint.

And then it slipped, a single runaway of your frustrations hanging from your eyelash, dancing along the reddened of your flushed face. You had now been dealt the sadness card, its back and front dyed in pigments of strong blues.

“Y/n?” Giselle said a little over a whisper, her voice cracking for you as you now stretch your fisted hands, fingers freeing the dark handle to the blade as it clashes to the ground, scraping and screaming as it punches the concrete in its way.

Carelessly, Giselle took another step, and another, and another, until she was standing idly by your side, her curious eyes searching along your face for anything more as you slowly came undone, cracking under the worn seams of your pressurised situation.

“It’s okay” Giselle whispered, finally reaching out, her hand coming into soft contact with your dampened shirt, “It’s all okay now, I’m here"

Winter

Suddenly, another’s body collides with your own, their arms wrapping around you with a delicate grasp. You waited for the aftermath of your own body to have been flung to the ground, or for the usage of another blade, a bullet, anything that could cause you great pain for the gout of grief you've instructed onto the world…

But nothing happened…

Instead, the person clung to your waist and torso just stayed silent, their head bowed just under your collarbone. Their shorter hair restricting you from their face, but you knew better than to assume this was a stranger of the night, or that they want to hurt you… especially since you recognise that perfume.

It’s the same perfume you bought for your one year anniversary a few months back, a special scent for a special occasion, as you told her. You remember her face so distinctively smiling back at you, her smile crawling to meet her eyes in a mutual agreement of joy.

"Baby?" You croak, hands shaky and sweaty as you release your sharpened weapon and place your palms upon the small of her back.

"Shhh," she hushed, gently nuzzling her head into you. You could feel the warmth of her breath as she exhaled onto you. It was as if she was coaxing your skin with an impenetrable bubble of comfort and safety.

And within no time, you felt yourself begin to finally relax. Your shoulders slump slightly as your eyes rested within the shadows of your inner eyelids.

You sigh, feeling a relatively large mass amount of stress flee from your clogged mind as you squeeze your girlfriend closer, needing further closure.

"I messed up," You mumble, your voice evidently smoother than previously.

However, you almost break again as you feel Winter's head retract, and her face greets your vision. She looked so ethereal, her face printed with the small streaks of blood that once hugged your neck, her eyes shining and lips delicately glossed "I know, baby… I know" She offers a reassuring smile, her hands moving up to rest upon the top of your shoulders "and I'm willing to help you"

Your eyes almost widened at her words, your brain trying to wrap and warp around yet another surprise to the evening. "I can't ask you to do that for me…"

Your girlfriends smile only widened, her eyes still firmly holding yours. "I'm not seeking your permission"

Ningning

You were caught in the crossfire of your mental and physical stability as you tumbled back, your spine hitting the ragged wall in a bone breaking kiss.

Your loose shirt gathered into a collective clump as you began to defeatedly descend, exposing your bare back to the rough elements of the bricks. The infrastructure sized your back, scuffing and scraping at the delicate skin and fluffy flesh beneath the exterior.

Your head felt heavy upon your shoulders, your neck a mere flaw in your blueprint design- like it was a rusted spring of decades use.

There was nothing you could do now, and you knew that as you remained dormant against the impending doom that was soon to follow, especially with the gasp just off to your side.

At first, you thought the woman you had so brutally served to death had come back to life, but the soft lul of the voice had told you otherwise.

"What is this?" Her voice seemed to only simmer in a well of comfort, the words sounding so effortless against the bitter breeze.

But despite your malfunctioning manufacture, Ningning could only blink as the cogs in her own mind cranked and squeezed. "You killed her?"

You wanted so bad to spit out your reasoning, but nothing good came to greet your tongue. Only vulgar words of salt and grime dared to tango upon your slick muscle. So you kept quiet.

"For me? You killed her... for me? Baby?" Ningnings eyes glossed over, her tongue darting out to wetten her lips. This was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her. Her past relationships never even came close to sharing a bond this mutual.

Ningning sees your love as clear as day. You're willing to kill for her as much as she is for you. You're on the same wavelength, the same page. You're her soulmate! She knew there was something special about you. She felt it thought out her entire body the first time she met you, and she feels it now.

Ningning loves you, even more so after today's events.

[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.

[yanderambling]

OMG IM SO GLAD YOUR DOING THESSE!!!!! Can I please please get Aschanti (submissive royal) with F I M and S??❤️❤️Thank you so much for writing!!!

yandere alphabet ~ Aschanti

(submissive monarch!yan x pining knight!reader)

full alphabet here <3

Fight [How would they feel if their darling fought back?]:

Aschanti would immediately cave to any resistance you showed them, unless they felt they were at some risk of losing you completely. In the event that they were forced to keep you against your will, Aschanti would never raise a hand back to you in violence- they probably wouldn’t even try to defend themself. Even if you hit, kicked, and spat insults at them, Aschanti is certain that you’ll come to understand in time, and so they will meet all of your offenses with nothing but gentle placations and a patient smile. They would keep you away from any deadly weapons out of necessity, and if you proved persistent then they would reluctantly promote a temporary personal guard, just to keep them alive long enough for you to realize how you really feel for them. It would break their heart to see you so upset, but Aschanti would gladly let you take out your frustration on them as much as you needed.

Ideals [What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?]:

Aschanti rarely lets themself dream that far into the future, so certain are they that you could never return their affections the same way. But, when they allow their mind to wander, Aschanti fantasizes about leaving it all behind with you, just abandoning the courts and royal obligations and taking to the country with just your hand in theirs. They find guilty pleasure in the thought of becoming your housewife, taking care of you and your shared home by serving you, and letting you care for them in turn by telling them what to do, how to be. Maybe, one day, Aschanti could cook your meals (and pretend they’re your live-in servant), do you laundry (and get to sniff and taste your clothes whenever they want), and even help you wash your magnificent body (need they go on?)<3

Mask [Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?]:

Aschanti wears a couple of masks, even around you. In public, they are remarkably composed and confident, they are widely renowned for their poise and natural leadership. But, when it’s just them and you, they find it harder to keep their cool, they become notably more uncertain and deferential, more open about looking to you for direction- but they still try to maintain a regal air about them so as to not lose your respect. On their own, however, Aschanti is nearly unrecognizable from the esteemed ruler known throughout the land. They spend most of their alone time thinking about you, taking stock of their collection of your things, touching themself to the scent of you lingering on the clothes they practically smother themself with- they’re really just a needy mess when there’s nobody around to impress, and they feel no small amount of shame from their desire to show themself to you like this and let you do as you like with them…

Stigma [What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?]:

Aschanti has always felt they were forced to take positions of authority because of their royal status, but they’d always really wanted to just let go and leave the control to someone else; you’re the first person they ever felt safe enough to even entertain the idea with. Before you, they never let themself dream of giving up their control as they so deeply wished, but once they’d been in your capable hands it became impossible to stop. Really, you’re the reason they’re like this, so obsessed with retaining the stability and comfort you provide them. You just make them feel so safe and secure, so wholly taken care of- it’s a feeling they’ve always craved, and you’re the only thing in the world that has ever sated them~

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[snazzy-suit]

Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 9 Snippet(s)

Heyoooo I'm currently sick af and thought I'd share a couple snippets of the next LLoG AU installment. In this chapter, we see how the uneasy truce between Luigi and King Boo began. To no one's surprise, peace-talks following King Boo's release don't exactly go smoothly.

For context, Luigi, Mario, Gooigi, and King Boo are in an underground portion of E. Gadd's lab that's specifically designed to keep ghosts/spirits contained. The professor is watching the following events from the safety of an observation room. He communicates through an intercom system.

Currently, King Boo has snatched up Luigi in a large glove construct (think a smaller version of Master Hand) and is holding the man hostage...

___________________________

“Not another step, plumber! If you so much as twitch I will not hesitate to eat your scrawny brother!”

Mario freezes, aghast, and Luigi supposes he, too, should be alarmed by King Boo’s grisly threat. Instead, a memory drifts to the forefront of his mind, and Luigi feels himself relaxing minutely. He schools his features into some semblance of calm and meets Mario’s panicked gaze.

“He’s bluffing.”

Luigi is grateful his voice comes out level, and his confidence in his statement only rises when King Boo squawks indignantly.

“I most certainly am not!” the monarch snaps, voice shrill. “What could have possibly led you to draw such an idiotic conclusion?!”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Luigi begins flatly, “how about when you wanted to gargle bleach the first time you ever tasted me?” He looks to Mario, and deigns to elaborate. “Back at The Last Resort, King Boo slammed me into a door with his tongue—knocked the wind right out of me. He had the perfect chance to trap me in a portrait while I was catching my breath, but instead he chose to whine about how bad I tasted.”

The reactions to this little revelation are mixed. Mario looks like he isn’t sure whether to be horrified at Luigi’s close call or relieved by King Boo’s pettiness. Gooigi, if his gurgling laughter is any indication, finds it downright hilarious.

“First time?” E. Gadd murmurs through the speakers. “Stars above lad; just how many times were you in King Boo’s mouth that night?”

“…Professor, I am begging you to never repeat that in any capacity ever again.”

Gooigi laughs even harder. King Boo growls lowly, face heating with anger and no small amount of humiliation. He hefts Luigi higher with a snarl.

“How’s this for bluffing?” he hisses.

The construct grasping Luigi moves to hover over King Boo’s head, and the monarch quickly tilts back as they open their mouth. Luigi yelps when the large glove shifts so it is scruffing him by the back of his shirt. He now dangles precariously over tongue and toothy maw. Varying cries of alarm echo throughout the room. King Boo cackles, the metaphorical ball now back in his court.

But not for long.

_________________

(Let's jump ahead a bit in the scene, shall we?) Luigi has broken free from King Boo's grasp and an enraged Mario has powered up with a Super Star to deliver the ultimate beatdown. Luigi is quick to intervene before things go too far...

_________________

“Why are you still defending them?!” Mario demands, growing increasingly more frustrated with each passing second. “They just tried to eat you!”

“But they didn’t,” Luigi stresses.

“Only because you broke free!”

Luigi shakes his head. “No,” he refutes patiently, “they still wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“How can you know that for sure?!”

“I already told you. Back at The Last Resort—”

“That was then!” Mario interjects. “This is now, Luigi. King Boo is trapped with nowhere to go. He could have just killed you out of spite!”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing!” Mario cries, cutting a hand through the air. “King Boo is dangerous and that’s never going to change! He’s just going to keep coming after us! Aren’t you tired of dealing with them?!”

“Aren’t you tired of dealing with Bowser?!” Luigi snaps.

Mario blinks back at Luigi, startled by his retort. “…what?”

“He’s dangerous, he’s tried to kill us multiple times, and he won’t stop abducting someone we care about,” Luigi says, counting off his fingers as he goes. “Who am I describing: King Boo or Bowser?”

Mario opens his mouth for a retort, but nothing impactful is forthcoming. His jaw works uselessly in the wake of his failed rebuttal. “That’s… that’s not a fair comparison.”

“You’re right,” Luigi agrees, “One of them gets invited to play tennis afterwards.”

“Luigi—”

“Do you not see the double-standard here?” Luigi continues sharply. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s fair that Bowser—who attacks us and abducts Peach every other Tuesday—gets to walk free while King Boo—who has only targeted us three times—has to be imprisoned forever?”

Mario says nothing. It is silent but for the ambient hum of machinery. Even King Boo, always one to fill the air with his arsenal of targeted barbs and sardonic quips, has been rendered speechless. Luigi can feel the spectral monarch’s gaze boring into his back; it makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. He tries to ignore it. He keeps his focus on Mario, the latter struggling to meet his eyes.

The prismatic light enveloping Mario’s body begins to flicker—slowly, at first, but then in an increasingly rapid pattern until it finally snuffs out. Mario’s shoulders sag, whether it’s in defeat or weariness from the sudden loss of surging power, Luigi can’t say for certain. Luigi finds his own posture slouching, but with relief. He slowly closes the distance between them and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Look,” he begins quietly, lowering his voice to a more private volume, “I’m not exactly thrilled about all this either, but I made a promise to the other ghosts and spirits that I would free everyone. If I go back on my word without giving King Boo a proper chance, how are they supposed to trust me?”

Mario offers no verbal reply, but his grimace and averted gaze convey his discomfort well enough. Luigi sighs.

“Mario, you’re right to be wary of King Boo—I’m not trying to say otherwise. He’s one of the biggest threats we’ve ever faced. One of the few that’s ever…” Luigi trails off, a connection forming in his mind. “…gotten the upper hand on you.”

And as the words leave his mouth, Luigi is struck by a sudden realization. Why Mario’s reluctance to set King Boo free surpassed his own. Why Mario is seemingly content to let Bowser run amuck while simultaneously condemning King Boo for the same actions. Why he is so uncharacteristically angry.

Mario… is afraid.

___________________________

And that's it for now! This is all unedited and susceptible to change, so there's no telling what the final work will look like yet. As cruddy as I feel, it'll be a while before I can seriously focus on this again. Hopefully this little sneak peek will hold y'all over until it's ready!

[whencyclopedia]

Thomas Wolsey

Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal Archbishop of York (l. c. 1473-1530 CE) served as Lord Chancellor to Henry VIII of England (r. 1509-1547 CE) from around 1513 CE to 1529 CE. Wolsey rose to become the most powerful man in England after the king, he created the Chancery court, worked with some success at England's foreign policy, and famously built Hampton Court Palace near London. Unable to secure from the Pope the annulment of Henry's first marriage to Catherine of Aragon (1485-1536 CE), Wolsey fell out of favour with his friend and monarch. Accused of treason, the cardinal was already seriously ill when he died on his way to imprisonment and trial in November 1530 CE.

Early Life & Rise in the Church

Thomas Wolsey was born c. 1473 CE in Ipswich, the son of a butcher. He studied at university and became the chaplain to Henry VII of England (r. 1485-1509 CE), gaining invaluable experience of Tudor politics from his sponsor, the councillor Bishop Richard Fox (1448-1528 CE). However, it was under Henry VIII that Wolsey's career really took off. Indeed, after being appointed the royal almoner (giver of alms) in 1509 CE and benefitting from the new king surrounding himself with his own advisors rather than his father's, Wolsey enjoyed a meteoric rise to power from 1514 CE. He became the bishop of Lincoln in March 1514 CE and just a few months later, in September, he was appointed archbishop of York and so became the second most powerful church official in England.

Eager to be the top man in England but realising the current Archbishop of Canterbury was secure in his position, Wolsey bypassed him by directly approaching the Pope. In 1515 CE Wolsey became a cardinal and so he now outranked even the archbishop; he was truly a 'prince of the Church.' In 1518 CE Wolsey went one step higher and became a papal legate (legatus a latere), that is a representative of the Pope himself and entitled to make decisions on his behalf. Usually, legates were given their authority for a limited time only and for a specific purpose such as an international conference. In 1524 CE, Cardinal Wolsey was given legate powers for life. Thomas could now really believe that one day, he might even be in a position to grab the very top job of Pope.

Even before these momentous ecclesiastical progressions, and much more importantly for history, Wolsey had become Lord Chancellor around 1513 CE (or perhaps 1515 CE, historians do not agree on the date). In this position, he was, in effect, Henry VIII's sole minister, the very apex of the pyramid of political power in England. Thanks to his administrative skills and good friendship with the king, Wolsey became a giant political spider with a web of subordinates that stretched into every part of the kingdom.

As the historian S. Brigden summarises, Wolsey developed a very special working relationship with his mercurial monarch:

The Council was still consulted, but only after Wolsey and the king, in a kind of partnership, had determined policy. Wolsey would first 'move' Henry towards some idea; the King 'dreamed of it more and more'; and only then would the council be informed. Wolsey's influence seemed supreme, and his household, in its magnificence, looked a rival to the royal court. So completely did he see himself as alter rex, it was alleged, that he would say: 'The King and I would ye should do thus: the King and I do give you our hearty thanks.' His pride and splendour were legendary: crosses, pillars and poleaxes, hated symbols of his authority, were carried before him; earls and lords served him. (106)

Continue reading...

[vraska4president]

So I just read the Planeswalker's Guides to Aetherdrift° and I went from "Meh racing set" to "Oh shit there's so much WORLDBUILDING I'm stoked". Like Amonkhet and Avishkar got so much development and Muraganda got a ton of new lore. In particular:

Avishkar:

• I feel like the Indigo Revolution and The Assembly did a good job as a hook for making Avishkar a lot more interesting than it was in og Kaladesh block, detailing the endemic problems with their attempts at a classless society? Fascinating. Also their connections to the rest of the multiverse and trying to rival Ravnica's influence? It adds a lot more to the plane that really revitalizes it

Amonkhet

• I'm so normal about Amonkhet. There's so much interesting stuff about the cooperation and relationships between the living and undead in Naktamun and beyond, the obstinance of the Monarchs, the looming threat of the Chitinn Court? ALSO TWO NEW GODS????

Muraganda:

• Muraganda is really interesting. Like all the different factions? Sentient dinosaurs and gorillas? Scar witches making pacts with Eldritch horrors? Moons falling from the sky after magic is discovered? It's like you rolled together Zendikar, Ixalan and Naya then poured them into one of those 1950's jello moulds

° https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/feature/planeswalkers-guide-to-aetherdrift-part-1

[scotianostra]

November 19th 1600 saw the birth of King Charles I at Dunfermline Palace.

No-one knew that Charles would be the last of the Stewart king s to be born in Scotland. He had an elder brother who was destined to be king and Charles was a frail, sickly child.

Three years after the birth of Charles, his father, King James VI, became King of England also and his elder brother Henry, became Prince of Wales - an English title created by Edward I. Prince Henry died in 1612 and suddenly Charles became the heir apparent. But he was soon under the malign influence of the Duke of Buckingham, eight years older than Charles, who had been made a favourite of King James alledgedly, on the basis of his foppish good looks.

In 1623, in pursuit of King James' plan to create an alliance with Spain, Buckingham accompanied Charles to the Iberian peninsula to arrange the marriage of the King of Spain's daughter to Charles. The plan was badly bungled (Buckingam gets the blame) and war was declared between Britain and Spain shortly after their return!

As lord high admiral, Buckingham continued to mismanage various expeditions and was eventually murdered in 1628.

King James died on March 27th 1625 and Charles was crowned at Westminster Abbey on February 2md the following year, With an alliance with Spain now abandoned, a French one was pursued instead, this time with a bit more success, and King Charles married Henrietta Maria, the sister of King Louis XIII.

His wife had an even more exaggerated view than Charles of the "Divine Right of Kings" which led him into conflict with Parliament both in Westminster and Scotland. Charles fell foul of the "puritans" favouring a church more in line with Catholicism, a "high" church with richness and ceremony.

He also fell out with the English parliament over him raising taxes without their permission, so what is man who believes in that "Divine Right of Kings" do? Dissolves Parliament and rules the country himself for 11 years.

Charles eventually came to Scotland in 1633 to be crowned at Holyrood. Although the Union of the Crowns had taken place in 1603, the monarch ruled two separate countries, each with their own laws - and church. In Scotland the meddling of the king in church affairs led to the signing of the National Covenant in 1638 and a call to arms.

The English Parliament and the Scottish Presbyterians were now both at loggerheads with the king and civil war broke out in 1642. In Scotland, the Marquis of Montrose carried out a brilliant campaign on behalf of the King. But in England, the battle between the Royalists and the Roundheads (led by Oliver Cromwell) swung back and forwards. But with defeats at Marston Moor in 1644 and Naseby in June 1645, his cause was all but lost in England. Charles surrendered to a Scottish army in 1646. He tried to sew dissension between the Scots and the English Parliaments but he was eventually handed over to the English Parliament.

Charles continued to attempt to "negotiate" but following an attempt to escape to France, rebellions in Wales and the south-east of England and an invasion of England by the Scots in 1648, convinced the English Parliament that Charles should be tried for treason. Charles argued (with some justification) that the court was illegal but he was sentenced to death and beheaded on January 30th 1649.

Despite his many failings, his refusal to compromise and save himself by accepting Presbyterianism, the illegal nature of his "trial" and his dignity at his execution, have all retrospectively provided Charles with a halo of martyrdom.

If nothing more, Charles did provide us with some fantastic portraits of himself, and if he was around nowadays I am sure he would love a wee selfie to himself! I particularly like the first one by van Dyck, the large Royal coat of arms of the House of Stuart stands to the lower left of the painting it measures a massive 3.68 × 2.7 metres. The second is another van Dyck, Charles I at the Hunt the third is by Gerrit van Honthorst another Dutch painter. The National Portrait Gallery, London say, on their web site Charles is associated with 335 portraits.