#AND THE BEHAVIOR HAS TO BE LEARNED OR INFLUENCED. He’s TEN. Tumblr posts

[kingly-court]

I’m legitimately gonna explode if I don’t find someone else who understand the background tragedy of the Gleeful Family in Gravity falls.

[liyawritesss]

ᴡᴇ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Miles Morales [Spider-Man] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: When there’s question of how the two of you should come public with your relationship, Miles has an idea. Despite it being quite cheesy, it’s one of the sweetest gestures he’s ever done for you.

Warnings: Some cursing but that’s about it

A/N: ‘lovin’ so hard’ by becky g came on so randomly and when i tell you the whiplash i got cuz i aint heard that song in YEARS…so proud of becky she’s doing her shit and i love her sm…needa get back into her catalog real bad

Song Suggestion: "Lovin' do Hard" by Becky G, "Sunflower" by Swae-Lee & Post Malone, "I Wanna Be Down" by Brandy, "Comfortable" by H.E.R.

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog

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“I got a question.”

It was ten forty five on a Thursday night, and like any other night, you wind down the evening with a daily FaceTime call with you boyfriend of four months - Miles Morales.

In the four month time frame that you and Miles have been together, you’ve learned that the boy had a lot of questions to ask about you. It was endearing, really, how the extent of his curiosity knew no bounds. He had questions about everything, from the different hairstyles you wore, to the classes you were taking, to what you aspired to be as an adult. More often than not, he would ask them in a cute, almost childlike voice, with big doe eyes and an awaiting look of inquiry, and because he was just so polite about it, you always gave in.

“You got a question?” You repeat, glancing up to your phone, looking at the boy on your screen. You’d been busy with homework at your desk to pay him much attention, which, now that you think about it, could have been the catalyst for one of his questions. You’d only been on call for an hour, but you did tend to get reeled in to your work pretty easily. Miles was no stranger to this, so while he tried his best to not bother you, his attention span was waning thin, and he wanted to talk with you as much as he could before he had to go out on patrol.

Hence why he was dressed in his spiderman suit, no mask, but with gray sweats hanging off his torso and the faint sound of Biggie Smalls playing in the background as a way to hype him up for the next few hours of swinging around Brooklyn. He loved being Spiderman, but it had been an exceptionally long day, and knew he would not survive his patrols without some sort of pick me up - which is why he was more than happy when you called him for your nightly FaceTimes.

“Yeah, I gots a question,” he begins, albeit a bit dramatically, with his arms folded over his chest and a pout on his lips as if he were sad about something, which garnered your attention even more, “and it’s very important, y’know, so yo’ homework gotta share you for a minute!”

“Miles,” your voice goes, a soft scoff leaving your lips as they spread into a grin at his behavior, “what is it, baby?”

There’s a bit of a stutter that runs through his body at the pet name. He’s growing familiar with it, sure, but the tingle that rings through his bones has him questioning is it just his sheepishness or was he so down bad for you that you’ve influenced the enhancement of his spider-senses.

“That sweater’s lookin’ mighty comfortable,” he starts, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll at the game he starts, “wonder who you got it from, hm?”

Granted, you didn’t know you grabbed his sweater - the same one he’s always left over your house by conveniently ‘forgetting’ it when he left. It was a noticeable red zip-up that faintly smelled of sage and cinnamon, which was a comfort on cold days and stormy nights when Miles couldn’t be there for you in person. He’d ‘given’ it to you before the two of you started dating, and you’ve claimed it to be one of your most prized possessions generally, but especially from him.

“Boy, please,” you muse, lips spreading wide with a grin once more, “I’m not doin’ this with you tonight.”

“I’m just saying!” The brown-skinned boy exclaims. “I just find it funny how it’s cool for you to have my stuff, but I ain’t got nun’ of yours!”

While Miles was possibly the most emotionally intelligent boy you knew (which you’ve definitely thanked Mr. and Ms. Morales when you met them, both as Miles’ friend and as his lover), he loved to not be direct with what he really wanted sometimes. He feigned victimhood for the giggles he loved to hear from you, even though both of you knew what he wanted in the grander scheme of things. This instance was no different.

“Why you gotta be so dramatic,” you laugh at him, his lopsided grin making an appearance on his lips, “if you wanted one of mine you could’ve just said that, dork.”

“No!” Miles says rather quickly, which catches you off guard and earns him a puzzled look, eyebrows furrowed together at his behavior.

“No?”

“N-No.”

“So…you don’t want one of my hoodies? Even though we wear the same size and everything?”

Miles bit his lip in anticipation, his chest rising and falling with his deep intake of air through his nose. The boy scrunched his nose, a habit of his you’ve come to understand as him preparing himself to go out on a limb, which only confused you more.

“Your- uh…your scrunchie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at his confession. “My…scrunchie?”

“Yeah, y’know,” he stairs to move his hand around, motioning towards his hair, “the things you put in your hair? That somehow don’t go against dress code, even though I always get talked to about my shoes for some reason.”

“To be fair, you got some loud ass shoes.” You respond, a short laugh breaking its way through your lips despite you trying to hide it. The pout that graced Miles’ face didn’t help with you regulating it, either.

“Okay, okay, fine!” You eventually say after regaining your composure, and before Miles goes to threaten to hang up the phone on you. “I’ll bring the jar tomorrow and you can choose which one you want, how does that sound?”

Miles nods vigorously through your phone screen, and you could tell by the little twinkle in his eye that he’s absolutely ecstatic about the proposition.

“This is…a lot of scrunchies.”

It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth when Miles watches you dump the jar of scrunchies onto the lunch table, eyes growing wide when you seem to pull out more than what looks like the jar can actually hold. There’s a little pile of varying colors, styles and sizes that’s built itself onto the table, and Miles has to admit that the task at hand seems a bit overwhelming now that it’s actually before him.

Granted, he doesn’t think he’d ever seen you wear the same scrunchie twice, but had he known your collection was this big, he’d just asked you to pick one out for him. How could he possibly choose now?

“How many do you even have?”

“I don’t know, I stopped counting after sixth grade-”

But Miles is already sifting through the pile, pulling out ones that immediately catch his attention. He has a concentrated look in his eyes - he’s taking the task very seriously, and it’s honestly adorable to you how deep into this whole exchange he was.

You took note of some of the ones Miles has already pulled out - a ribbed-fabric beige one, a group of satin ones varying in shades of blue, and ironically black and red colored one that he continuously eyes every now and then, and a silk sake green one that just so happens to be your favorite. Miles finds out the reason why the second he touches it, being soothed by the silk fabric under his fingertips.

“You want that one?” You ask him, to which Miles glances up at you from across the table, seemingly embarrassed by his entrancement of the hair ornament.

“It’s your favorite, though, right?” He responds. “I don’t wanna take it if it’s your fav-”

“-and I think that’s the perfect reason why you should take it.”

You say it as you begin to stuff the remaining scrunchies back into the jar, handfuls of the bunches slipping into the glass container with ease as you spoke again, “It’s the one I use most frequently. Meaning it smells like me more. Meaning that there’s more of a ‘me’ touch to it, so that you won’t be as lonely.”

It takes a second, but when your words register in Miles’ head, you can almost feel the heat that begins to creep up his neck from the affectionate words you spoke to him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of the free period. Miles takes no time in slipping the hair ornament around his wrist while he bids you farewell. As you depart for the second half of your classes for the day, Miles can’t help but fiddle with the object around his wrist as his own classes drone on. 

You were right, he thinks, he definitely doesn’t feel lonely with the presence of your scrunchie with him. 

[openphrase123]

hey hi hi i've read everything of curtain call (except, obviously, what hasn't been posted yet) and i HAVE to ask you to share your lost country/skywatcher language thoughts so i can devour them immediately please.

hiiiiiiii so like 90% of the language worldbuilding i did for curtain call was like. very simple sentences and words since i didn't want to make an entire conlang for this fanfiction. what i have written in-fic would fall apart in two seconds if i tried to expand it to any of the lines outside of what i wrote. HOWEVER i have a lot of thoughts about how it WOULD work if it had the capacity to expand outward

putting under a readmore both for curtain call spoilers and because this is going to get long and insufferable for anyone except ME

also if you're not reading curtain call. this is still a fun little analysis about how siffrin's native language influences their behavior. you might have fun with it wheeeee just know that the actual language i'm talking about is not canon. i made it up.

disclaimer: i speak a couple of languages but my knowledge of languages is VERY limited to what i know. so you're going to see a lot of instances of me calling back to japanese or other english dialects. other languages exist and also have these features but i'm just not gonna say anything if i'm not sure of what i'm saying. if you are interested in these concepts in a more academic setting i am NOT the place to find that

second disclaimer: in curtain call, the name for qilaksut comes from greenlandic/kalaalisut which is an endangered indigenous language. this is an open invitation to go learn who, historically, lived in and supported the land you're living on. consider supporting them whatever way you can.

number ONE. dude is it that serious??

nah.

again, i built this for like ten sentences out of a 100k+ fic. so like. there's some inconsistencies, there's some weird stuff. and i know i could have just written all of the curtain call qilaksut in english but italicized, there would have been nothing wrong with that. but i did not because i thought it would be a good exercise in character exploration

because the language you speak has some measure of how you act and carry yourself in the world. (sorry elizabeth if you're reading this. i'm not going full noam chomsky i swear i don't believe in linguistic determinism i'm using this as a literary device) and since siffrin is the only speaker of the forgotten language we see (loop never engages with that in-game as much) and i was a little bit like. okay. why is he like that. how much of that is siffrin and how much of that is the home they don't know

in odile's friendquest she remarks that she only finds similarity in herself within vaugarde because vaugarde is so welcoming to travelers. however odile never went to vaugarde until she was an adult - siffrin presumably lived on the island until he was a teenager, and your personality is fairly Formed by then (at least enough for people to put iterations on it in adulthood) so as much as i could have gone the route of "siffrin it's okay that you don't see yourself in your past" i thought for the themes of this fic it made more sense to go "oh THAT'S why siffrin is Like That"

so as you're reading through this: yes i'm worldbuilding language. but MOSTLY as a siffrin character study. okay! okay.

number TWO. situational meanings.

so ✦‧₊ is "you" and ✧‧₊ is "me/i". but "hello" is ❇✧ which - hang on, isn't that the word for universe and me? no, actually, there's no pronoun suffix (‧₊ denotes when a person is being talked about) so in this context ✧ means "inside". which means ✦ means "outside" in some contexts.

(but harrie, why does "hello" mean "inside universe"?? well i imagine it's the difference between older medieval greetings and the modern "hi". languages morph and drift. this kind of just suggests that without me having to write an Entire Language Family Background. probably a shortening of some corny shit like "within the universe i find you" or whatever. semantic drift.)

and part of the reason i did that was for unicode constraints - there are only unicode characters that look like stars. but the other half is because in japanese and i THINK also in chinese each character has a few different meanings. take 本, in japanese. it has a lot of meanings on its own but let's look at it in situational context. 本棚 is bookshelf. 本物 means real. 本土 is mainland.

so in qilaksut i think these kinds of multi-use words are common. ERGO. why siffrin has trouble thinking of very situational words in vaugardian. if your native language is built up of tangential mnemonic connections, of course you're going to have trouble remembering the word kiln!!

number THREE. reduplication and repetition

take the phrase "✦‧₊ »»⟢" from ch10. in my head, » means "fast" and doubling it gives you "really fast". this happens in AAVE (e.g. "he's RICH rich") and japanese (there is an entire kanji expressly used as a repetition mark so that you don't have to draw complicated kanji twice, it's 々(noma) and as an example, person is 人 but people is 人々)

reduplication is slightly different from this but i think it shows up for words like »», where you're not literally saying the word twice but the vowels double themselves. kind of in a trilling way. i actually say this in inutile and not curtain call but i think the Siffrin Accent wavers a lot and feels like a twinkling star. because i think it's cute

alsooo repetition. wish craft. do u see the vision

number FOUR. pronouns and clusivity

i don't get into the he/she/they or any other third person pronouns in the fic because. well i think the lost country would go so hard on pronouns. there are child pronouns. adult pronouns. pronouns denoting somebody's job or status. hell loop is SO casual about offering to use the "royal we" i genuinely think pronoun usage in the lost country is more tied to interpersonal relationships than gender. but of course that plays a role too

because i think there's a huge amount of gender concoction you could brew in there. i think it would be really fun if siffrin uses he/they because in qilaksut siffrin is mainly referred to as the neutral pronoun mashed together with the masculine one. i think that would be fun.

and then for funsies. clusivity. i definitely think there is a difference between "we" (me+one other person, excluding you) and "we" (me+others+you) in qilaksut. would be fun if this is why siffrin automatically assumes they're getting excluded from things. "where is the vaugardian inclusive we and why has nobody said it to me???"

number FIVE. structure

i don't have a lot of Full Sentences in qilaksut in the fic but in general it follows the pattern place - > noun - > adjective - > verb. and you might be going "harrie, you weeb, that's japanese again" well. i didn't want it to be like french or english. and that's the one i know. so. shut up!!!!

"well why can't it be the same syntax as vaugardian then?" i'm glad you asked. i wanted it to feed again more into the idea that siffrin is more susceptible to getting "lost" in a conversation. hard to focus when your normal syntax anchors are not there!!

but at the same time. i write siffrin as a polyglot in curtain call. they're pretty equipped to learn and absorb new languages. once you learn a second language, in general, your third/fourth/fifth gets easier

number SIX. things i can't do in the fic except for once or twice because of unicode restrictions

well i could do it ONCE. with two sentences that are coming up in tomorrow's chapter: but i think in qilaksut writing, changing the rotation/orientation of the word also changes the meaning. slight spoilers for tomorrow's chapter but siffrin has two ways of saying "love you" for two different people - for odile, it's ❥✦‧₊ and for isabeau it's ❤✦‧₊

this isn't for any particular reason, i just think it's neat in the context of how i do names and titles for the rest of the fic. getting called different names based on your relationship to somebody, using altered terms of endearment for someone. two extra rotations of the heart could exist in theory so one of them is probably "loving your kid" and the other issss i dunno. maybe a closer platonic love nearer to a qpr or something. or what you use for your parents/guardians or your betters. i didn't think that far!!

also word opposites. ✷ doesn't have another version with just the lines, but that means "yes" and i think a hollowed out version of that would mean "no." obviously the ✦/✧ shift goes here too. and i think the inverse of ✪ (little) would mean big. but i couldn't find those in unicode so they do not exist in this fic oops

if you made it this far into the post. hi. thank you for reading :) that was probably a lot more than you were asking for. i won't apologize. anyway this post doesn't even TOUCH how i do name stuff in the fic but that also feeds into this. (and the name stuff was something i took out of an old dnd campaign anyway) (of which i have a DIFFERENT altered version for my original fiction but shhhh)

[woodlaflababab]

Thinking about Aang and Iroh and their parallels when it comes to Zuko.

I mean, they are such similar characters and one of my biggest regrets with the show is that we only get one scene with the two of them interacting. That's a damn shame. Even just beyond the fact that they're both wise, humorous, and centered on peace (though they have different ways to go about it), they both have two distinct and very different parts of their lives.

Iroh has the beginning of his life, which was centered around training to be Firelord and fighting a war, and then after Lu Ten died, where he gave up all of that and pursued something very different.

Aang has the beginning of his life which was about peace and childhood (and mastering his element) and then after he woke from the iceberg in which he was thrown into the world and his role as the avatar.

And it is these events that bring them to Zuko. Without them, neither of them would have had the relationship with Zuko that they do, Aang wouldn't even know him.

For both of them, Zuko reminds them of a loved one they lost (one in which they feel even a little bit responsible for that loss) Lu Ten and Kuzon, and to both of them, Zuko is one of the things that lessen the tragedy they went through. Iroh learns to love Zuko as one of his own and Zuko becomes one of Aang's best friends (each having Zuko fill the place of the person they lost.) (Aang even explicitly says one of the bright sides of the iceberg was the new people he gets to meet. "I did get to meet you." - Aang @ Katara)

They also both relate to and understand Zuko even if Zuko doesn't recognize that. Iroh understands being caught up in the fire nation propaganda and chasing an idea. (Honor for Zuko, Glory for Iroh.) Aang understands the pain of being ripped from your home and understands the way pain can drive you to do things you would never dream of doing otherwise.

They both are endlessly forgiving of Zuko. No matter how many insults Zuko throws at Iroh, no matter how much fire Zuko throws at Aang, they refuse to stop caring for him. Iroh in the form of standing by his side and Aang in the form of saving his ass again and again and offering him friendship.

Honestly, I think part of Zuko's frusteration with Katara's very reasonable unwillingness to forgive him as soon as he does something right is because he's a little bit spoiled on the forgiveness he has always gotten from Iroh and Aang. (And I also think Katara's resistance makes Zuko appreciate her forgiveness and thus their forgiveness so much more, especially when Iroh immediately forgives him once again at the end.)

It is Iroh's and Aang's patience and virtue that allow Zuko to grow and become the person he becomes. They are the two biggest influences on his change and both their influences are so similar in many ways. Iroh stands on the inside never leaving Zuko's side and Aang stands on the outside constantly offering a place by his own side.

I don't think it is a coincidence that Zuko had to lose Iroh's help and forgiveness to realize he needs to seek Aang's help and forgiveness.

Both of them have made mistakes with Zuko. Both had a phase where they realized they needed to turn their back on Zuko because of the pattern of behavior he's shown (dispite him trying to show different levels of repentance) and both welcome Zuko in once he has made it clear that behavior has ended and his change is true. Both love him, not because of what he's done, but because he has inherent value as a person and because they know deep down there is something good inside him.

Both of their relationships with Zuko are beautiful.

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 5: While Yet the Wound Is Clean

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, violence, references to sexuality, slight creep behavior, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 9.3k (aka very long)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary (you're gonna need this.)

❧ In This Chapter: The king is hosting his annual jousting tournament, an opportunity for Sir Daryl and other knights to display their cavalry prowess, and a cause for celebration. The party is soon interrupted, though, by a man whose name has haunted the kingdom of Alexandria for months, but his face has remained a mystery, until now.

❧ A/N: Just as a heads up, I definitely recommend popping open the glossary for this chapter because there are going to be a lot of terms thrown at you that might not make sense (lots of armor/jousting terminology). Plus it's just kind of interesting to learn about medieval stuff, so I highly recommend checking out the glossary! It will help immerse you more. Anyway, guess who's here... Finally, after so much buildup, our main antagonist makes his appearance. I don't want to spoil it, but you probably already know. And sorry in advance that this part is so long. I had a lot to fit in here! Hope you enjoy it though.

Daryl never much cared for tournaments. 

But it was part of the whole knight thing, of course, and, considering the fact that he was the first knight from outside the castle walls to attend King Ezekiel’s court in just over ten years, it was an unspoken obligation for the knight to compete.

In usual circumstances, knights would use this opportunity to display their battle prowess, and to sharpen their marshal skills in preparation for the real thing. Daryl found little use for the practice, however, but there was one aspect of the tournament that did interest him, something that Duke Richard had been reminding the knight of on a near-constant basis.

“If you lose,” said the duke, amusedly watching the knight struggle to strap the steel plate pauldron to his shoulder, “I’ll personally inform the king that you’re bedding his daughter.”

He didn’t even want to joust at all, frankly, but the duke insisted, and filled the knight’s head with all kinds of fantasies of impressing you, and even bearing your favor for all to see. But, that would be too bold, he thought. Still, the idea spurred him on, influencing him to participate in the tournament’s most anticipated event―the joust. 

Long before the Scourge, King Ezekiel hosted numerous tournaments in the castle courtyard throughout the year, with knights from far and wide traveling to Alexandria to display their skill and valor in armored competition against one another, followed by a luxurious banquet held in the great hall. When the plague spread through the land and the kingdom was closed off, the castle’s drawbridge was raised, too, and tournaments were scheduled only once a year, and only the knights already present in court could participate. 

This year, though, was the most exciting tournament in ages. With a new knight at court to display his skills, the other knights were eager to rise to the challenge, but there was anticipation in the air, as it was known that Sir Daryl’s skill in the joust was not to be underestimated. In fact, he’d never lost the handful of jousts he’d participated in, and at least three of the knights he defeated had died from their injuries. Well, that was par for the course, after all. Jousting was dangerous, and oftentimes, it was a fight to the death. 

“I won’t lose,” replied the knight with a huff, now buckling on heavy silver gauntlets over his suede black gloves. Upon the steel, the motto of his family was engraved in gold at the wrist: Fortes Fortuna Juvat―Fortune Favors the Bold. “‘Sides, if you told the king that, you’d be lying.”

Richard turned to procure the favor you’d gifted him a fortnight ago from the knight’s bedside table. “Then what, pray, is this?” the duke laughed, twisting the lush red silk around his finger as he shook his head. “Unless there’s some other maiden you’ve been spending all your free time with.”

“Pfft,” scoffed the knight. If only he could have already put on his helmet, then he wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of the blush upon his cheeks. “Means nothin���.”

Richard carefully replaced the delicate fabric. “Means you’re her favorite… Means she fancies you.”

Though the idea was painfully sweet to him, he had to deny it, lest the duke get his hopes up about the nature of your feelings for him. He had to convince himself of some other truth, some other reality that was, in actuality, much further from the truth. 

“Means she’s grateful for my help, s’all.”

“Mhm… Anyway, you’ll be competing against the great Sir Shane.” 

Daryl’s eyes rolled nearly to the back of his head as he draped a tabard, emblazoned with his the Dixon coat of arms, over his steel plated cuirass. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? You should be eager to knock a dalcop like him off his horse. He could surely use it, prancing around like a puffed up peacock the way he does.”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” replied Sir Daryl, with his usual air of nonchalance. But it was a facade this time, for the first time in all his years of jousting. For once, he did care about winning, about emerging triumphantly unscathed from the perilous performance. Why? Well, he’d never jousted in front of a particular beautiful princess before.

It was a crisp spring morning, bright and cheery, as the annual tournament always brought with it a feeling of mirth, as though the world wasn’t replete with terror and the constant looming threat of death. The courtyard was always beautiful, but it became a colorful display of pageantry as a procession of nobles from court flooded into the stands. The castle’s resident merchants and servants set up booths to offer refreshments, namely mead and chilled cider, while the king’s favorite minstrels played a jaunty tune to underscore the boisterous laughter and cheerful talk amongst the gathering of a hundred or so fancily dressed noblemen and women. 

Today, you looked upon the scene with rose-colored glasses, though usually you hardly even bothered to attend the tournament, instead opting just to show up for the banquet. Food was a great motivator, but watching knights on horseback bash each other’s chests in with big sticks was hardly of interest to you. 

Until Sir Daryl informed you he’d be participating, that is.

Your interest in the event was now twofold: for one, you were terrified of your favorite knight being knocked from his horse, suffering the wounds of the joust that could undoubtedly lead to his demise. Your second, more base, interest was in seeing the knight triumph, the idea of his skill in battle exciting you despite your pacifist nature. Indeed, even your father was surprised at your presence, questioning you as you each sat elevated above the tiltyard in the royal balcony, watching the servants arrange the finishing touches before the joust began. 

“I must say, I was not expecting you to attend,” remarked the king. “Since when are you interested in seeing the joust, my dear? I seem to recall you often referring to the sport as ‘barbaric.’”

You took a nervous sip of cider from your pewter goblet before speaking. “Well, I… I wanted to please you, father, since you always put so much effort into arranging the tournament.” You offered a sweet faux smile to bolster your fib.

He didn’t seem to catch on, his jolly laugh carrying in the gentle breeze as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder with a playful shake. “I’m happy you’re here. Oh, look! There’s your bodyguard.”

Trying not to appear too enthusiastic, you calmly craned your neck to follow the king’s extended arm, your eyes landing to the spot where he pointed. Oh, my.

Sir Daryl walked almost gracefully in the cumbersome armor, having been experienced in the practice of carrying such bulky steel upon his person. You’d never seen him so decorated, his body ornamented by a full set of the most protective armor money could buy. Its shine was nearly blinding, the reflection of the high late morning sun shimmering off the freshly polished steel. His helmet, like all jousting helmets at the time, was of the frog-mouth variety, his eyes and the surrounding skin the only part of his visage that could be seen through a narrow ocularium. Despite this, it was easy to spot the knight, his characteristically broad shouldered frame standing out even beneath all the armor, and his family’s crest painted upon his shield and tabard.

Beside him was his horse, Phantom, similarly dressed for the occasion, with barding of steel plates covering his face, neck, back, and hindquarters. Draped above these essentials was the steed’s caparison, boasting alternating checkers of red and yellow, to match his knight’s crest, of course. 

Without a second thought, you rose from your seat to greet him, but quickly you remembered your father’s presence beside you. “Oh, father, may I―”

“Yes, yes, go on, but be quick. The tournament’s about to start.”

You weren’t entirely sure your father even knew what you were about to ask, but you were just fortunate that he was agreeable to whatever you were going to say. The mead was probably helping to lubricate his inhibitions. 

“Thank you, father,” you said before bestowing a kiss upon his scratchy cheek. “I won’t be but a few moments.”

As you hurriedly side-stepped through the seats, you skipped down the steps and rounded the corner to meet the knight, the skirt of your particolored heraldic gown of yellow and green, your family’s colors, bunched up in your delicate hands to prevent you from tripping over yourself in your excitement. 

“Sir Daryl!” you called out over the heads of a passing group of nobility. 

The knight’s vision was terribly limited, but above the anonymous heads of people whose names he did not quite care enough to learn was the shining reflection of your simple pewter coronet, with two meticulously constructed braids coiled into circles on either side of your bright, freshly rouged face. He almost didn’t recognize you, him being so used to seeing your hair down or in a much less boldly colored gown, but you looked like the picture of beauty to him in any case. 

On your way to him, you asked a passing merchant for a shiny red apple, which you held out to Phantom as you gracefully approached the armored destrier. He sniffed the fruit for a moment, then took it in his mouth in one fell swoop, while your other hand gently stroked his chamfron. 

“Poor thing,” you cooed most woefully at the horse. “Such a gentle creature being forced to compete in this barbaric, savage sport.” You side-eyed the knight, his face completely unrecognizable, as it was locked away in a large, almost comically shaped helm. Snickering, you held back your laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” asked Daryl, his voice muffled underneath the helmet. He knew, though, that he looked, for lack of a better word, stupid. He never liked armor, especially not the kind used for jousting. It made him look so pompous, he thought, and the bright reds and yellows of his tabard and shield, combined with a gaudy blue panel adorned with three large white stars, was just too flashy for his taste, but if he didn’t compete, he was sure Duke Richard would never let him hear the end of it.

“Nothing,” you replied, voice rippling with giggles. “Nothing at all.” Your gaze trailed playfully up and down his silver-covered body, right down to his sabatons. “I think you look rather… dashing, actually.”

He huffed inside his helmet. “I look like an idiot,” he said.

“No, you do not,” you replied, more seriously now. “You look like a knight, and that’s what you are.” Peering over his shoulder, you looked across the tiltyard to see Sir Shane outfitted in similar armor, though his heraldry was of his own house―Walsh. His tabard and shield, as well as his horse’s caparison, were of red and black. As you sized him up from a distance, your face blanched with worry. “Do be careful,” you said. “Sir Shane has never lost a joust in all the ten years he’s been at court. One knight lost his eye jousting him just last year.”

A strange surge of bitterness rose up in his throat like bile. Could it be… jealousy? Subconsciously, his chest seemed to puff up as he turned to look towards the other knight. “It will be easy,” he said, somewhat boldly as his rarely displayed confidence began to show. “‘Sides, I’ve never lost either, milady.”

Just then, a young flaxen-haired squire, Henry, you knew him to be called, approached the knight with a hook-shaped arret which he affixed to the knight’s cuirass, for the purpose of keeping his lance steady as he charged. 

“Good day, Henry,” you said with a smile. After a brief “your highness,” and a nervous bow, the boy scurried off to gather more of the knight’s equipment, then, while Daryl’s mind began to wander as he became lost in the red of your lips, coated in that intoxicating rouged balm he knew too well. “Well, I should―”

“Wait,” interjected the knight. That particular shade of red had reminded him of something he had packed into the saddlebag beneath Phantom’s decorations. Lifting the brightly colored caparison, he dug clumsily around the small leather pouch, his large gauntlets causing him much frustration as he grunted under his breath, eliciting another small laugh from you as you watched him fumble in his clunky armor. “Goddamnit,” he huffed again, his confidence slowly waning about as quickly as it had waxed. “It’s in ‘ere somewhere…”

Finally, he triumphantly procured the red silken fabric. Your favor.

“Oh, Daryl! You still have my favor!” you said, taking the silk sleeve into your own hands to feel the familiar fabric once again.

“Course… Is―is that all right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. It’s yours to keep. You must let me tie it round your arm for good luck. I’d be honored for you to be my champion.”

Your champion. He was queasy with your sweetness, and with the sudden tingling he felt… below his belt, he was reluctant to admit.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied, holding out his arm. He couldn’t let himself even breathe as you twisted the fine scarlet silk tight around his right rerebrace, the feeling so wonderfully snug and warm, even if he couldn’t physically feel the sleeve there at all. 

“There,” you said proudly. “Now you’re my champion, whether you win or lose.” Your once confident voice became unstable with quivering anxiety. “But please win, my knight. I… I just could not bear to see you hurt.”

And I, you, my princess.

In the distance, the knight marshal called out to announce the beginning of the tournament. Quickly, Daryl hoisted himself onto his horse, while the lance handler passed to him his weapon, a lance that swirled with red and yellow stripes. The ten foot long pole was menacing as you watched with wide eyes while Henry affixed the strap of Daryl’s shield to his left forearm. 

“Good luck, Sir Daryl,” you said to the knight, then your eyes averted to the Friesian horse below him. “And to you, as well, Sir Phantom.”

I love you, he wished to say, but he had neither the courage nor the confidence to say such a thing at a time like this, or ever. 

Instead, he simply nodded your way, then watched you through the narrow opening in his helmet as you returned to your place in the balcony, beside the king, who raised his goblet towards him. 

Sir Daryl returned the sentiment with a subtle but intentional upward tilt of his lance, while the knight marshal instructed the jousters to come forward. 

You watched with bated breath as the match began, Daryl’s black horse cantering towards each other, each on either side of the wooden tilt that divided the tiltyard. The closer they came to colliding, the more they each lowered their lances, mirroring each other in an almost artful fashion, until Sir Shane’s lance drove into Sir Daryl’s underarm, eliciting a shocked, but entertained, awe from the crowd.

“Oh!” you gasped in fear, covering your agape mouth. “He―he… Father, that should not be allowed.” 

To your shock and horror, the king only laughed at your dramatics. “My dear, it’s only the first pass, please. Look, Sir Daryl is fine. No lances broken.”

“But he could be hurt… Oh, this game is vile. Is there not some other way for knights to prove their skills?”

“Yes,” replied the king, his eyes still transfixed on the next pass, during which Daryl’s lance intersected Shane’s breastplate, but not enough to knock him from his horse. Still, the knight marshal announced that five points were granted to Sir Daryl of House Dixon, with Sir Shane holding four points thus far. “But what better way to test a cavalryman’s marshal skills than a good old fashioned joust? Look.” The king pointed towards the knights, their horses each cantering towards each other once again for another pass. “It takes precision, grace… Tis an artform… Ahhh haha!”

The king stood tall, cheering with the crowd as they all stood up with their hands outstretched in a celebratory motion. “What’s happening?!” you cried out over the crowd’s cheers, yourself now standing to try to see past the dancing hands that obstructed your vision.

“Sir Daryl won the first match!” he said triumphantly. “Look! Sir Shane’s lance is broken, marking the end of the first match.”

The rules of the joust were arbitrary, in fact. They varied from tournament to tournament, but King Ezekiel’s tournament always required three matches, each one ending when a knight’s lance broke from the impact of the other knight, or when a knight was knocked from his horse. A knight could also yield honorably to the other at any point, at which the knight who yielded would lose the match, but be commended for his chivalry. 

But of course, you didn’t much care for the rules, all you cared about was Sir Daryl, his underarm visibly wounded from the way he awkwardly wielded his shield as he prepared for the next match, Phantom shaking his head as he whinnied and pawed at the straw-covered dirt. Sir Shane was given a new lance from one of the handlers, while the runners cleared the field of the broken bits of wood that had splintered off Daryl’s shield. 

“He’s hurt,” you sighed. “Under his arm…”

“At ease, my dear. Watch, the next pass begins.” 

Your father was captivated, his pupils ping-ponging between Sir Daryl and Sir Shane as the two began another canter towards each other, their lances about to intersect again. 

Daryl only saw red during a joust, his opponent becoming nothing more than a moving target. Whatever chivalry he had, he could put it on display for the crowd of nobility, but inside him was a raging bull, much more concerned with winning than impressing. Well, except you―the princess, whose wide, terrified eyes he could feel tickling his skin, even beneath all that armor. 

I’d be honored for you to be my champion, your voice echoed almost ghostly in his head. My champion repeated relentlessly, over and over and over for God knows how long, until an uproarious cheer from the crowd tore him from the delightful torture of your sweet voice and your intoxicating words. 

Phantom’s hooves had kicked up a great deal of dust in the swift canter of his movements, but as the horse turned, Sir Daryl narrowed his eyes through his helm to see the opposing knight writhing on the field, his horse displaced from underneath him and his lance torn to shreds beside him.

A gaggle of valets and runners filled the tiltyard, some of them assisting Sir Shane and lifting his helm to inspect for damage, but the knight tore his arm away as he rose to his feet, replacing his helmet with a deep, frustrated grunt. It seemed that the two knights had yet another thing in common: they were both sore losers, and that was not very chivalrous.

The knight marshal announced another five points to Sir Daryl for unhorsing the knight, who climbed back on his mount despite his torn tunic and cracked cuirass. The final match began, with the two knights barrelling towards each other with more tension in the air than before.

“I cannot even bear to look,” you said, despite the fact that your eyes were glued to the scene. “Someone could get killed, never mind the injuries.”

“He’ll win,” remarked the king, though that did nothing to ease your worries. Seeing Sir Shane’s fall was enough to give you heart palpitations. 

But winning was all that mattered to Sir Daryl in this moment, his mind completely occupied by you―your voice, your scent, your touch, your taste… He could only imagine the taste, of course, but it was sweet, just like everything else about you. 

Your champion… I will be your champion, no one else. I am yours, my princess… My queen.

With another roar of the crowd, the knight returned to this plane of existence, where the coronel of his lance shredding through Sir Shane’s cracked steel cuirass to deliver another blow strong enough to unhorse the knight, his body crashing to the ground as a cloud of dust enveloped his frame in a cruel miasma of defeat. 

Your heart stopped for a moment, not only because the poor knight had surely suffered a great pain, but because your knight was victorious. 

“Huzzah!” the king cheered, standing with the rest of the crowd as they tossed brightly colored streamers and waved the miniature blue flags of Alexandria. In celebration, the marshal raised the banner of House Dixon upon the high wooden flagpole hovering over the tiltyard, triumphantly bearing the colors, arms, and slogan of the old family. 

“I never doubted you for a moment, good sir,” laughed the duke, his arms crossed as he watched the knight lift his helm from his head in relief. With a smug grin, Richard bowed before Daryl.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, just before shaking out his sweat-soaked hair. Not eager to boast about his accomplishment, he turned towards the fallen knight, who was being lifted into a wicker stretcher, carried by two valets. “He gonna be all right?” 

“A few broken ribs, a little internal bleeding,” sighed the duke. “He’ll live…” Richard squinted his eyes as he examined Daryl’s disheveled appearance, his face blotted by dirt and a bit of blood from his face hitting against the inside of his helm. Jousting may have been considered a gentleman's game, but it was hardly dignified in the end. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he laughed. “And put on your best clothes.”

“For what?”

Richard crossed his arms as he shook his head, amused by Daryl’s lack of attention to the day’s schedule. “The king’s banquet, fool.”

“A toast!” the king announced, holding his goblet of mead so high and with such vigor that you were sure it’d splash over your head. “To our champion knight, Sir Daryl of House Dixon!”

The great hall hadn’t been so lively in years, it seemed. Even the previous banquets paled in comparison to the mirth that echoed through the corridors of the castle. The feast was grand, indeed, with two pigs’ heads on either end of the long refectory table. In the center, of course, was the king’s prized swan, roasted and seasoned with only the best exotic spices, saved for the annual occasion. 

Only the noblest of the court’s nobles were seated at your table, which was raised upon the dais and overlooking a dozen or so smaller tables, where the lesser nobles raised their goblets to join in the king’s celebration of the knight. While he typically would've sat lower, Daryl was placed ceremoniously at the high table, an honorary distinction for his victory at the joust that morning. 

As you raised your glass with the others, you noticed the anxiousness in Daryl’s face as he tried to muster a smile, but you were sure he felt horribly nervous. You knew that he hated being looked at, or any attention to be solely upon him, and there were about fifty or so people looking at him, paying him quite a bit of attention. 

In fact, all night, Daryl seemed distracted, and indeed he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. At least, when you weren’t looking.

Tonight, you wore the prettiest gown he’d ever seen―a gown of mauve colored velvet, with a lighter lilac shade of detailing gracing the wide neckline that barely clung to your exposed collarbones. Down the front, the seam was decorated with the very same detailing, adorned with glittering jewels, pearls, and delicately embroidered designs. The impressive bordering continued at the split of your sleeves, exposing the cool, pure white of your long-sleeve chemise underneath. 

In your hair was a silver circlet encrusted with matching pearls, with a thin, translucent veil of white draped perfectly over your intricately braided hair. He felt unworthy just to look upon your face, the skin so plump and smooth and without a blemish in sight. To even breathe the same air as you now seemed improper―he’d rather suffocate than dishonor you with his presence, his impure stare threatening to sully you and your perfect virtue that he’d risked his life to protect. 

Even now, surrounded by nobility and sitting only a matter of feet from the king, your father, he still couldn’t help but think of you in ways he knew to be wrong, some downright sinful. As much as he tried to tear his mind from you, for fear that he’d corrupt you just from the thought of touching you, he just couldn’t do it. By the time dinner ended, he’d explored every square inch of you, if only in his head.

The revels only continued after the feast, with now slightly inebriated nobles dancing in a circle about the great hall, their feet stepping in sloppy movements to the lively tune of Dance of the Forest of No Return,  with the king’s favorite troubadour, Luke, leading the other minstrels with his fiddle.

When Daryl tired of sitting with the remaining nobles at the king’s table, he used the energetic chaos of the dance to snake through the crowd and take cover beside a wide stone pillar, where he could recover from seemingly endless conversations that went nowhere with people who’d never cared to speak to him before today. 

With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the pillar to watch them all dance―one of Duke Richard’s hands was interlaced with that of Lady Michonne, whom Daryl had known his lord was laying with. It did not bother him, for he did not care about what the duke did in his spare time, but he found that their affection for one another was enviable, and he’d never felt such a way before.

Love had never interested him. He’d always poured himself into his skills―practical things. Love was much too grand, too intangible. What Daryl trusted most in this world was what he could touch, the mundane. He did not have the time nor the interest for flights of fancy like love. Of course, the only aspect of love he knew of was that of a carnal nature, because that was what he could wrap his head around. 

Long before he was a knight, he’d gone adventuring to distant lands, accepting work as a guard or hired military for whatever king or constable would have him. In between breaking up drunken brawls in dark, dingy taverns or slaying nameless faces in a battlefield somewhere, he found his relief, more or less, in “unchaste” women, but only when he couldn’t reach particular itches by himself. 

Even in those times, he never thought of love, nor wanted it. He was sure he’d never felt anything even remotely close to it, until you

What he felt for you was more than lust, and even then, he knew his lust was different than anything he’d felt before. It wasn’t motivated by his own need for release, but by his desire for you―to please you, to know you in every way, to show you how much he cared for you. His lust was not born out of selfishness, but out of love, and there is nothing selfish about real love. 

He knew it was real, too. It consumed him, mind, body, and soul. You consumed him, to the point that he found himself searching for you in the chain dance, both to keep his eye on you, as your bodyguard, and to allow himself the pleasure of your sweet face, and the curves of your body so perfectly accentuated in that gown… He found you, dancing in the circle, your hands each joined by two other men. 

The circle split then, your arms tugged by one of the men from your left, while the man on your right joined with the woman to his left. He pulled you into a rambunctious dance, his hands appropriately situated upon your hips, but much too low for Sir Daryl’s taste. 

Swords were not allowed in the great hall, unless one was a guard, but the knight was allowed one rondel dagger, just in case. He stopped himself when he felt his hand instinctively reach for its hilt, strapped to his belt.

It’s just a dance, he thought to himself. But, oh, how his heart ached, just at the sight of a man touching you that way. He tried to pull his attention away from the man, instead calming himself by relishing in your laughing face. But then, why couldn’t it be him making you laugh, swinging you around and squeezing your soft, warm waist… 

“You should ask her to dance.”

Daryl blinked in surprise at the duke, Lady Michonne by his side as she held back a snicker. “What?”

“Ask her to dance,” Richard reiterated, this time himself laughing at the knight’s bashfulness. “Or would you just prefer to watch?”

“Pfft,” scoffed Daryl. “I’m not watching nobody.”

Lady Michonne stepped forward with her characteristic boldness. “Her highness speaks highly of you,” she said. “Very highly… She speaks of you ad nauseam, in fact.”

Now that was surprising. “She does?”

“Mm… Here she comes now.”

Daryl’s back straightened as he puffed his chest out and held back his shoulders, resuming his more formal stance. 

You’d not spoken to him since that morning, just before his joust, and it had saddened you that his face was hidden by his helm. Now, in the warm light of the great hall’s flamed sconces and magnificent chandeliers, you saw him properly. All evening, in fact, you’d been just as entranced with him as he was with you. Whenever he averted his gaze from you, after several moments of studying you, you were doing the same―taking in every inch of him like he could’ve been taken from you at any second. 

In the several months you’d known him, you’d never seen him so… princely. Granted, he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of combing his hair, with a few stray strands of chocolate-colored bangs hanging sloppily over his forehead, but he was dashing, as always. 

You held back a soft giggle every time he shifted uncomfortably in his tight black doublet, its shiny brass buttons stretched to their maximum in order to accommodate his broad chest. The poor man looked terribly uncomfortable in the snug hose that graced his stocky legs, but you relished in the view.

“Good evening, Sir Daryl,” you spoke with a peppy lilt to your honeyed voice. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

Only when I see you, my princess.

“Yeah... Ahem, I mean, yes, your highness.”

You formed a smile at his blunder, not that it mattered to you. You were quite fond of his informal manner of speaking. 

In the several moments you were entranced by the knight, Lady Michonne and the duke had slinked off somewhere, no doubt to afford you privacy with Sir Daryl. 

“Well… Why aren’t you dancing?” You’d hoped that this line of questioning would somehow reveal your desire for him to ask you to dance. If you were more bold, you’d ask him yourself, but when those sapphire eyes fell upon you in an intense gaze, you were rendered meak and powerless. The hold he had over you was nearly frightening, but the adrenaline lit a restless, scorching hot fire in the pit of your stomach, one that moved lower with each breath he took as he held your gaze. Lower, lower… Starting a fire in your loins.

“I… don’t know how,” he said. “‘Sides, I’m s’posed to be watching you. I mean, watchin’ out for you.”

You tilted your head with a teasing smirk. “I do not think there is any peril here, Sir Daryl. I can assure you that I feel perfectly unthreatened. You are relieved of your bodyguard duties tonight. In any case, it’s a celebration of your victory.”

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the scene of this morning’s joust, the knight’s strength and skill in battle on full display. You shouldn’t have found it as… intoxicating as you did, but his body in that suit of armor hadn’t left your mind since.

“You were magnificent today,” you added, quickly shaking your head as you realized what you’d said. “I mean, very… good. You were very good today.”

“Thanks,” he replied in an attempt to appear nonchalant, when really his heart was pounding against the inside of his ribcage, demanding to be set free from its stuffy confines. 

With a sudden pang of discomfort, he rotated his shoulder and grimaced at the soreness of his underarm, where Sir Shane’s coronel hit him during the joust. Memory flooded to you of the moment it happened, how terrified you were that he’d been injured.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, outstretching your hand to gesture towards his shoulder. 

Daryl cleared his throat as he shook his head. “Nah,” he said, though he was hurt. He just couldn’t let go of his pride to admit it to you. “Just a cramp…” His train of thought was derailed most suddenly when he fixed his glance upon you, your whole face shining like an iridescent full moon hanging delicately in the night sky, your eyes sparkling like mysterious, faraway stars that he knew so little of, but often wondered about when he found himself lost in the clouds, daydreaming about beautiful things that eluded his earthly knowledge. 

That warm, hearth-kissed glow of your plump, unblemished cheeks sparked a fire of confidence in his belly, one that would surely get him into trouble if he let it reach his head, but those flames tickled at his heart, the beat of which resounded over any rationalities his inner voice tried to spew.

He didn’t know the first thing about dancing, and he was already terrified of clumsily stepping on your feet or grasping too hard at your soft hands, but he was willing to embarrass himself if it meant he could touch you in this moment.

“Would you, uh…”

You blinked sweetly as you leaned forward, trying to better hear his soft, low voice underneath the cacophony of voices combined with the energetic music that echoed through the great hall all around you. “Yes, Daryl?”

Clearing his throat, he started again, this time, his voice louder and more confident as he looked you in the eye. “Your highness, may I―”

“AHHH!”

A sharp, blood-curdling scream erupted from the shadows of the great hall, followed by a terrified noblewoman running to the crowd, cowering in her husband’s arms. The dancing ceased as a discordant strum of lute strings punctuated the abrupt end of the festivities, while confused chaos spread like a plague to each partygoer, circling around the woman to see what had frightened her so.

Whatever it was, Sir Daryl did not hesitate, pinning you behind him as he withdrew his rondel. His immediate thought was the unthinkable―walkers. Though the event was nearly impossible, given how secure the kingdom and the castle was, there were always blind spots, and Daryl could name about a dozen of them off-hand, all of which could have easily been breached. Well, that was his first thought, but it was quickly dispelled when one of the king’s guards limped shakily towards the center of the hall, his hands bloodied and held together at his stomach, where a thick stream of scarlet expelled profusely. 

No longer able to keep his body intact, the guard fell forward, with a tangle of shiny, loose intestines spilling out of him before his lifeless body hit the timber of the floor.

On account of the knight’s broad shoulders obstructing your view, you could only hear the gasps and screams and cries of the terrified people, and the voice of your father rang out, begging everyone to remain calm. When you peaked over Daryl’s shoulder, you couldn’t keep yourself steady, your head dizzied from the sight of the gore. “Oh!” you cried out, grasping tight to his waist for fear you might faint. “What is happening?!”

The knight only backed up, taking you with him as he wrapped his free arm backwards to grasp your hand. “Shhh,” replied the knight. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Daryl backed up until he reached a door that he knew led to the castle pantry, which surely would be a suitable place to keep you hidden from any danger, whatever it was, but as he turned, he was met with an unfamiliar knight in unfamiliar armor, draped with a tabard of black and red―the coat of arms featuring three red fleurs-de-lis and three white crosses. He only studied it for a moment as the enemy knight lifted the sharp tip of his sword to Daryl’s neck, pushing him and you back towards the crowd. 

Reluctantly, you were ushered to the edge of the mass, where the king had pushed aside several nobles to kneel down beside the fallen guard. You watched your father turn over the man’s body, shaking his head in something between rage and anguish. “Who did this?!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall. He looked around the room, up and down, left and right. “Show yourself, coward!”

Only moments later, there was nothing but a disembodied voice that answered him. The voice was deep, unfamiliar… with a heavy dosage of arrogance. 

“Well, shit,” the voice said. Everyone searched their surroundings, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. “I’m terribly sorry, my liege. You see, sometimes… I just can’t help myself.” 

His voice rippled with a conceited chuckle, a sound that was much too disturbing for the current situation. To hear someone laugh so callously at the poor man’s body, engulfed in a pool of deep red blood, was just horrific, so much so that you held back a sniffle as tears began to trickle down your once rouged cheek.

Slow, heavy footsteps approached, their slight rattling indicating that the man was armored, and, indeed, he was. As he appeared from the shadows like an apparition of the night, the warm light of the great hall illuminated the owner of the voice―dressed in ebony armor, with a matching black spiked morningstar mace dangling haphazardly from his gauntleted hand. Tucked in his belt was a blood-soaked dagger, dripping as he approached slowly, coming further into the light.

Behind him were several helmed knights, all wielding bloodied swords. You feared they had killed most of the on-duty guards, rendering the court defenseless against these brutes. The thought was enough to have you shaking as you squeezed Daryl’s hand, the warmth of his strong grasp providing some comfort, but not enough to soothe you, especially when the knight sauntered his way towards your father, holding his mace over his shoulder arrogantly. 

Your father snarled as he sized up the unhelmed knight―a tall, thin man with hair black as a moonless night and slicked back to the nape of his neck. Upon his face was a short, graying beard, which looked almost as scratchy as his grating, deafening voice.

“You must be…” He paused for a moment, holding his finger to his chin as his eyes floated up to the ceiling. “Oh, King Ezekiel, the Kindhearted.” The knight bowed dramatically. “Silly me. I should’ve known.” With another laugh, he let his gaze wander the great hall, his head nodding while that infuriating smirk stretched over his face. “This is some place you’ve got here, your majesty.” He sauntered around, causing the court nobles to back away with a series of terrified gasps the closer he got. They did not seem to faze him, though, he only continued talking, admiring the beauty of the hall. “This place is magnificent!” he laughed, then let his eyes fall back upon the crowd, their hearts beating hard enough to nearly fill the silence.

“Oh…” The black knight’s hand rose to cover his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in exaggerated faux sadness. “Oh, my… I―I interrupted something, didn’t I? Well, I hate to break up your… splendid soiree, but, tell me, good King Ezekiel the Kindhearted, why, praytell, was I not invited?”

The king stood straight, steadfast and unwavering. You admired him greatly, as you were sure you would’ve been much too frightened to say anything to the man, whose identity you were beginning to realize, though you did not want to admit it.

“Sir Negan of House Smith,” the king acknowledged stoically. “You’ve slaughtered my people, stolen our provisions, made a mockery of my kingdom… Why in God’s name would I invite you here, where you and your so-called Saviors are most unwelcome?”

Sir Negan narrowed his dark eyes, though he still smirked. It was not a smirk of good humor, though, but a sinister one.

“Well, I suppose I thought we had an understanding,” he began, now making his way through a cluster of people to take a vine of red grapes from atop the nearest table. He popped one in his mouth, then hummed loudly, so loud that his sound of pleasure echoed through the great hall. “Those are some good grapes! You people don’t mess around.”

“What is this ‘understanding’ that you speak of?” demanded the king. “And speak quickly.”

“Or what will you do?” replied Negan, approaching the king once again until he got so close that Ezekiel swore he felt droplets of grape juice spew from the knight’s mouth onto his face. “I’ve killed at least half of your manpower, I’ve raided your armory, and there’s about, I’d say, four times as many of us as there are of you.”

You worked up the courage to examine your surroundings, and now there were Saviors encircled all around you, blocking each and every exit. There were no guards to be seen. You were trapped, subject to the knight’s whims. He and his men could slaughter you all right here, right now. The suspense was the worst part.

“But that is of no importance now,” added Sir Negan, now pacing before the king, his mace swinging by his feet like a pendulum. “What is important, however, my good king, is our simple, clean-cut understanding, and our simple, clean-cut understanding is as follows: you give me what I ask for, and I won’t slaughter each and every last one of you sorry pricks.”

Another gasp erupted from the crowd, only serving to amuse the man. “That’s the spirit,” he laughed. “Now, because I’m a reasonable, merciful man, and a knight of chivalrous honor, I will spare you and your little kingdom tonight. This… tarriance, as it were, is only to provide you the courtesy of yet another warning, the previous of which has gone sorely unacknowledged. This shall serve as your second warning, and a third will result in more forceful measures being taken, if you catch my meaning. In fact, what I am most interested in at this moment, instead of killing all of you and pillaging your great abundance of resources, is laying eyes on my future bride. King Ezekiel the Kindhearted, won’t you show me your daughter―my princess?” He spoke the final words with a venomous laugh, as though the whole thing was a game to him, a source of amusement. 

For Daryl, it was anything but. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, his body standing firm before you as his back straightened and his chest puffed up to its fullest extent. His breaths became labored and voluntary as the blood raced to his head, where images of striking the knight down before another filthy word about his maiden, his lady, his princess could spew from the bastard’s smug mouth. 

For your part, you let your tears absorb into the fabric on the knight’s back, where you begged silently for the power to disappear into thin air and never have to hear the knight’s voice ever again. It stirred in you all the fear you’d tried so hard to escape, all the death of hope that plagued your darkest dreams and reminded you of the cruelty of the outside world. Now, you felt as though you had let that darkness in, and it eclipsed every beautiful thing you’d known.

“I will do no such thing,” replied the king. “You will leave at once, and never show your face here again. My daughter is not a bartering chip, and the kingdom of Alexandria will stand strong against you.”

Sir Negan’s smile slowly morphed into what could only be described as a poisonous scowl, while his hand gestured lazily to one of his men, who then disappeared into the shadows of the corridor. 

“I did not want to have to do this,” he said, his voice lower now, more menacing, and not nearly as arrogantly jovial. “But you forced my hand… Bring out the girl.”

Squirming in one of the knight’s arms was Beth, her mouth gagged by a red handkerchief and her hands tied behind her back as she let out several muffled whimpers. In your overwhelming fear, you grasped tighter to Daryl’s hand, whispering involuntarily, “Beth…”

A gasp erupted from the crowd, and even your father seemed to falter, his courage visibly draining from his once stoic face as another knight pushed down on the girl’s shoulders until she was kneeling before Sir Negan, who brandished his mace with too much ease for your comfort. The horrible man let the heavy silence settle in as he took slow, languid steps towards the girl, her eyes weighed down by pendulous tears as she sobbed against the fabric in her mouth. 

“Let her go at once!” demanded the king, though the frailty in his voice reminded you that there was nothing he could really do to stop Negan. His guards were all dead, and the whole court was outnumbered by knights. It became quite clear at this moment that there was one person in charge of the events that would unfold tonight―Negan.

Sir Negan turned to point his mace towards your father with an aggressive jolt of the spiked weapon. “You, my king, are in no position to be making demands. See, I am holding court now, and as my first royal decree, you will show me the princess, or I will clobber this young maiden’s head in til it pops open like one of these succulent table grapes.” The knight fed himself the last grape, then tossed the vine over his shoulder. “Choice is yours, your majesty… But then, if you tell me no, I’ll just bash some more heads in. I can do this all night.”

Silence settled in again, with only the murmuring of the constable and the chancellor as they attempted to advise the king on what to do, though he only looked terrified now. You’d never seen the color drain from his face the way it did then. 

But the knight lost his patience, clicking his tongue as he shook his head. “Do not make me count.” 

The king silenced his advisors before taking a deep breath. “No more blood needs to be shed this eve,” he said. “I’ll give you anything you want―food, weapons, livestock… But not my daughter.”

“Five!”

No! you screamed in your mind until you swore your eardrums grew sore. 

“Four!”

You tugged on Daryl’s hand as you whispered, “I have to―”

“No,” he replied. 

“Three!”

“Please!” begged the king. “Don’t do this, there must be something―”

“Two!”

Sir Negan raised his mace high above his head, both hands gripping at the handle as he prepared to slam it back down. Beth’s sobs now echoed through the hall, despite the gag. Though it was hard to tell exactly what she screamed, you swore you heard the words, “No, please, no!”

You couldn’t let it happen. Besides, if he only wanted to lay eyes on you, there couldn’t be much harm, could there?

“Stop!”

Negan’s mace paused in mid-air, just before he was about to deliver the blow. He looked towards your voice, then, as you pushed with all your might to escape from behind Daryl’s body, his arm outstretched as a last resort to keep you from going any closer to the man.

Now, you swallowed back a lump in your throat, trying to remain dignified despite your fear, which manifested in a small, but noticeable, quiver to your voice. “I am (Y/N),” you said, with your precarious confidence fueling you enough to speak again, this time more nobly after you took in a deep breath. “Crown Princess of Alexandria, heiress to the throne… And by my royal decree, I command you to release her at once, or I will have your head.” An empty threat, but it proved you were serious.

Your father spoke your name in a tone somewhere between appalled and petrified. Before he could speak again, Negan silenced him.

“Ho-ly shit,” the vile man laughed. Such foul language was never permitted in the great hall. He was a scoundrel, of that you were sure. “Isn’t this something?”

With his mace dangling by his legs, he sauntered towards you, the whiteness of his teeth carving a dent in the lower lip of his wicked smirk. With each languid step he took, you tensed and shivered, while Sir Daryl breathed deep, guttural breaths, almost akin to a growl the closer the man got to you.

What could he have done at this moment? He could not hide you any longer, now that Negan had seen you. He could not strike the man, for there were far too many Saviors outweighed against him and the handful of other knights and noble warriors among the party. No, all he could do was pierce the man’s soul with a thousand yard stare to rival them all. 

“You… are… fiery.” Each word was punctuated by another slinking step towards you, until Negan got too close for Daryl’s comfort. He fought with himself as he side-stepped in front of you, his mind telling him to stay put, his heart begging him to keep him away from you, his own body a sacrifice for your dignity, your honor. He could not let the man’s presence taint you. 

Negan leaned back with a look of amusement, a sharp chuckle under his breath as he shook his head. Daryl only stared back through adroitly critical eyes. 

“You’re more of a door than a window, my good sir,” laughed the black knight. “Pray, just who do you think you are?”

Without a moment to think through his words, he spoke quietly, just above a whisper, a simple phrase: “I’m the one who’s gonna kill you.”

“Sir Daryl,” you spoke shakily. If Daryl got himself killed right now for your honor, you’d never forgive yourself, or him. “Stand down.” He turned his gaze to you, your face pleading with him as little tears shone like crystals in the reflection of the light. Each tear was another laceration to his heart. “Please,” you whispered, your voice falling softly on his ears like a dewdrop on a trembling flower’s petal. He did not notice your hand grasping at his forearm, squeezing gently, as if to assure him that you were all right, though it did little to placate his rage at the man.

Wordlessly, he stepped away, all the while keeping his gaze upon Sir Negan. The growl that escaped below his breath was drowned out by the arrogant man’s triumphant chuckle. Indeed, Daryl had won once today, but what he felt now was an incredible, profound loss, or just the beginning of one. Somehow, the physical pain of this was a thousand times worse than a measly lance to the chest. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes lingering over parts of you that would’ve been off limits to anyone but your hypothetical husband, all while his tongue wetted his bottom lip unabashedly. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it back, standing up straight and stoic despite your desire to recoil in abject repulsion. 

“You truly are… the most ravishing woman in the world.” The sudden earnestness in his deep, contemplative voice terrified you more than the sight of his mace, its spikes grazing against the fabric of your dress as he dangled it absentmindedly by his legs. 

He slowly leaned closer to you, his hot, oppressive breath stinging the side of your face as he whispered through tight, sneering lips: “I cannot wait to ruin you, princess.”

You shuddered as his gauntleted hand rose up to caress your face, the cold steel burning like dry ice. Not far from you, Daryl grasped the hilt of his rondel, his daggered eyes roaming Negan’s armor to find any chinks for him to stab through, but he knew that, if he let his impulsiveness overtake him at this moment, it would only make matters worse. He had to keep what little composure he had, while he watched the scoundrel’s filthy hand assault your maidenly beauty. 

“Keep your purity ready for me,” he whispered again, this time his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I’ll be back for it.”

When he pulled away from you, you released a staggered breath of relief as your knees struggled to hold your weight. Soon, Sir Daryl’s hands gently held your upper arms. You lifted your weary head to face him with glassy eyes, while his begged you wordlessly for the answer to an unspoken question. 

“I’m all right,” you whispered, though you did not have to say anything. His hand rose slowly to lift your quivering chin. It was wholly different from Negan’s touch, which was lecherous and cold. Sir Daryl touched you with concern, warmth, comfort… Love? 

You hadn’t enough time to contemplate the meaning when Negan’s voice echoed through the great hall once more. 

“Well, I don’t know about all of you,” he said, “but I had a great time!” He flippantly waved his hand to the knight holding Beth, who untied her restraints and removed her gag before she scurried towards your father. He took the weeping young girl into his arms, as she was always like a daughter to him. The poor thing was shivering in the king’s arms, but you thanked God she was safe. 

“Leave now,” your father said. “And never come back.”

Sir Negan only laughed again. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. In fact, I’ve already cleared my itinerary to return in one week’s time. At that time, you will―and I mean will―hand over my bride―my prize―and whatever else I ask for… If you refuse, well, I’ll just have to take my prize by force, and then pillage your whole kingdom because, frankly, I’ve grown tired of not being taken seriously by you people. Actually, I might just take her by force, rob you, and burn your kingdom to the ground without even bothering to ask you first. Depends on my disposition that day, if I am feeling like giving you another chance. In any case, that woman is mine.”

He gestured his spiked mace towards you, once again tearing off your gown with his dark, perverted eyes. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he lamented with a smile. “Oh, well, I suppose we should take our leave, men. So long, lords and ladies, your majesty, your highness… Til next we meet.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[themarkofoxin]

still time to delete your post. you were uninformed, that’s fine, but now you know that there is a pattern of racist behavior on dan’s end and we are right to be upset. him outright saying that he won’t tour in ‘third world countries’ like mx and brasil during a WAD show is racist. calling my home a third world country is racist. this is not in the past, you can say logistics all you want but dan outright said that he will not tour in our ‘third world countries’. it is not logistics. it is racism.

if i'm remembering correctly, dan did not "outright" say he just wouldn't tour in mexico & brasil. he made a tasteless, dismissive joke, sure, with the fans as the butt of the joke in the same way fans were the butt of the joke in many wad segments; it was insensitive and dismissive because the fans he was poking fun at weren't actually there and, obviously, have real frustrations with his behavior. but the meaning and implication of the joke was never that he actively avoided those places and would never go there--hell, they have been to brasil, to show a recorded version of ii and do a q&a. they had a mexico date for ii but it fell through, right? claiming he "outright [said] that he won't tour in 'third world countries'" is a mischaracterization as much as it would be to say "he outright said he hates phil" because he's said it in competitive gaming videos before. the key difference is he has failed to build a rapport with latam fans so it was insensitive and hurtful.

also, it is very much influenced by logistics. as much as it sucks, we absolutely cannot dismiss that. i was too sarcastic and dismissive in my additions to the post, and i've deleted those, but i stand by the original paragraph. regardless their (but especially dan's) racist comments, booking venues in countries where

1) english is not the predominant language,

2) they are not widely known,

3) once the venue learns about them they figure out they may be well past their peak in popularity and,

4) in some cases, it is relevant that they're gay and much more open about it than ii,

DOES actually make it significantly more difficult to convince a venue that it will be profitable for the venue to put on your show. most of the time, that is all venues are worried about. will people actually show up, or will these two faggots who peaked ten years ago draw in an audience of like, 20 people, and the venue will lose money when they could have booked a more profitable show? if the venue manager had to google them, are they really that popular anyways? the venue managers don't care unless they are certain they will not only break even but profit from dnp more than they would profit from literally anyone else they could book that night. why do you think they were able to do locations in asia for ii, but don't have them now (yet)? in 2018, they could reasonably argue their profitability, and even that wasn't enough in manila.

i am hoping, genuinely and from the bottom of my soul, that they will use the speed at which most of their shows sold out when the tickets went up to prove to venue managers in places other than the US and europe and commonwealth oceania that it is worth it. i hope they try very hard, and that they're able to add more dates. it certainly seems like they want to. i think it's also likely--whether it's right of them or not--that their experiences in MX & manila have led them to believe it's better to stay entirely quiet before they're absolutely sure they can announce a date and it will work, which makes it look like they're not communicating at all, but they may see it as them saving people from getting their hopes up if it doesn't work out. idk which is better, honestly. it at least seems to me like they're telegraphing that they're trying to book in other regions

[edoro]

How do you think spending all the time in Philip's basement influenced Collector?

They probably were either in his workshop alone or with Philip caring them around under his cape.

short answer: badly!

long answer: honestly, we kind of see this in the show?

like, look at the way they interact with him - they think everyone dying on the Day of Unity is going to be fun. they think grimwalkers are literally toys that Philip makes just to break.

this isn't just because they're like, 'bad' or 'evil', and it isn't JUST because of their age - King is in a similar developmental stage as they are, and he understands things like "people die when they are killed."

imo a huge part of the Collector's apparent callousness towards death or suffering and lack of understanding of what it means comes not JUST from being a kid and also quasi-immortal and gifted with godlike powers, but also the fact that for the last few centuries, his only model of Any Type Of Social Behavior Whatsoever has been Philip, who lies, manipulates, abuses, and kills others for his own gain.

there seems to be a weirdly prevalent idea like, in society in general, that kids just sort of Come With Knowledge Pre-Installed. that at eight or ten or twelve or fifteen they're "old enough to know" certain things, regardless of whether or not they have ever been TAUGHT those things. that morality is inherent and biological rather than learned.

but like... it's not, lmao. kids do what they see. they learn what they are taught. they mirror the adults and other children around them.

so for the Collector, why wouldn't they think you can just fix a broken toy? or make a new one? why would they care about suffering or pain or dying? they've never been taught that those things are bad.

Philip, specifically, has taught them that hurting others is fun, and that if you hurt someone so badly they 'break', you can either fix them or make a new toy. Philip has taught them that others are toys.

i think he did a lot of damage. he manipulated and lied to them and taught them really damaging ways of viewing others around them, and really broke their sense of trust. he encouraged all of their bad habits. his neglect made them act out and cling for any scrap of attention.

the Collector is ultimately a very neglected and very traumatized child who witnessed a LOT of violence and had it really normalized to them, and, similarly to Hunter, just assumed this was How Things Are until shown otherwise.

[goldtowhite]

solana "solar" flores // character study

basic information:

FULL NAME: solana maria flores

NICKNAME(S): solar, sol

AGE: 27

DATE OF BIRTH: january 1st, 1997

PLACE OF BIRTH: salinas, california

GENDER: cisfemale

PRONOUNS: she/her

ORIENTATION: bisexual

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, spanish

NEIGHBOURHOOD: sierra vista estates

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: she lives by herself!

family ties:

MOTHER: violetta marie reyes flores

FATHER: miguel diego flores

SIBLINGS: a little sister, a full ten years younger than her

SPOUSE / PARTNER: none

CHILDREN: none

PETS: one dog, a great dane named nelvin

occupational information:

OCCUPATION: solo artist

SKILLSET OR SPECIALISATION (IF APPLICABLE): singer, dancer

answer only if your character is a musician:

NAME OF THEIR ACT: she goes by the name solar as a performer

SO THEY PLAY INSTRUMENTS? IF SO WHAT?: she can play piano and is attempting to learn guitar

ARTIST INFLUENCES: ariana grande, hwasa, kehlani

CURRENT MONTHLY SPOTIFY/APPLE MUSIC LISTENS ON AVERAGE: 75M

physical appearance:

FACE CLAIM: becky g

HAIR COLOR: dark brown

EYE COLOR: brown

HEIGHT: 5'1"

BUILD: curvy, toned

TATTOOS: she has two of becky's tattoos, the dragonfly on her side, and the familia on her wrist

PIERCINGS: just a bunch of ear piercings

CLOTHING STYLE: what always matters most to her is that her hair and makeup is done no matter what. very glamorous style, loves a good crop top, loves form fitting clothes.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: she's teeny tiny short.

personality:

MBTI: ESTJ

ELEMENT: earth

WESTERN ZODIAC: capricorn

CHINESE ZODIAC: ox

POSITIVE TRAITS: ambitious, vibrant, expressive

NEGATIVE TRAITS: bossy, materialistic, vain

HOBBIES: travel, cooking, foodie type behaviors in general, swimming

wanted connections:

CONNECTION TYPE: give me a toxic on and off relationship please. i'd love this to be another uber famous person, like they keep writing albums about each other, they've broken up messily in the public eye multiple times, when they come back together half the fanbase cheers and half groans but knows they're gonna get good sad music out of it. down to cook for this.

CONNECTION TYPE: someone who works for solana who kind of picks away at her outer layers and understands her on a personal level.

PART TWO: QUESTIONNAIRE. 

IF YOUR MUSE IS A MUSICIAN:

start at the beginning, who are you and why are you important? i'm solana flores, known as solar to most, and why i'm important isn't really something i can answer. you'd have to ask the people who decided i was.

how long have you been making music? since i was a little girl. my dad plays guitar and he would play around the house, would do it to entertain us when the lights went out because he and mama couldn't make the bills that much, and i just started singing along with it.

how would you describe the kind of music you make? it's a really healthy mix of songs you'd want to have sex to, and songs you'd blast with the windows down going 90 mph on an empty highway.

who are some of your biggest musical influences? oh the list is endless. selena, of course, a legend and an icon. beyonce! lots of lesser known mexican artists i grew up listening to with my parents.

what is the first record you ever bought? it was an n*sync cd, if i'm being honest.

what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career? the life i've built for myself is something i would've never dreamed. my parents never have to lift a finger again, though they do anyway because they worry about my little sister getting too spoiled, and for good reason. they already have one spoiled child, they don't need another.

what are some stand out moments from your career so far? my first sold out show, even though the venues were pretty small. my first stadium tour. my first meet and greet.

how would you describe your style of performance? what makes your shows worth seeing? my style of performance is to make sure that you'd never dare look anywhere but the stage, in case you missed anything. i'm worth seeing because i'm real, and good at what i do, and make it known.

what are you still hoping to achieve in your career? you'd think reaching the top would be where it ends, but there are some awards i haven't won yet that i'd like to. really all that's missing from my shelf at home is a grammy.

what’s next for you? well that's a secret.

[crisiscutie]

Regarding the Sephology 101 course, I would like to ask about a basic analysis into the psychological aspect of Sephiroth. As a Sephiroth admirer since I was kid, I really love to learn more about the mysterious man

-🌹

Content Warning: Discussions of child abuse and trauma. Long ramble below.

Welcome to Sephology 101. The course is now open!

We know from the canon that Sephiroth's psychological aspect has been painted by Shinra ever since he was born. His life was defined by TRAUMA. Before he was born, he was subjected to harrowing experiments, the first of his many traumas. That's already going to heavily influence his psychology and his well being. That is not even mentioning other genetic predispositions he inherited from his parents. Being taken away from his mother as a baby was undoubtedly a traumatic event as well, and its effects can be felt in his life, even though he can't remember it.

Shinra has crafted him into the perfect SOLDIER. Dutiful, obedient, strong, intelligent. I'm sure they only gave him the bare necessities and concentrated heavily on the art of warfare. And like I once said, he must've had an immense pressure to always be the best. He can't let up or appear weak, he kept up appearances. I've read an official fun fact that Sephiroth was a full time frontline fighter before he was TEN YEARS OLD. That is tragic and wild to me on so many levels. I always knew he was a child soldier, but I would've thought he spent most of his formative years preparing for the battlefield and occasionally visiting it.

Being a child soldier itself is just a mountain of trauma. He was taught to do and suffer through horrible things, but deep down, he was seeking validation without even being aware of it. Children's love for their caregivers is almost unconditional, particularly when they are very young. They will do what is taught to them, they will modify their behavior to accommodate the demands of the adults around them and they will have a strong faith in the adults to cherish and protect them... I'd imagine Sephiroth lost this unconditional love for Shinra as he grew up. Especially when he was given autonomy as a reward for his growing fame, like the ability to wear his own clothing, decline missions, discover his own hobbies, etc. These all gave him a sense of empowerment. With this, he will see more of what others had that he didn't. There's also the factor of how Shinra kept putting him into one traumatic situation into another... No matter how normalized abuse is, you will feel horrible about what is happening to you in some way or another, especially if it's by something or someone as your caregiver...

Another psychological aspect to focus on is that Sephiroth did not have a strong social circle. He had very few connections. The four known and strongest ones being Professor Gast, Angeal, Genesis and later Zack in Crisis Core, when the last two before him abandoned Sephiroth. I will say Sephiroth was attracted to these four not just because of the familiarity and comfort they bring to him, but also their nurturement. They encouraged Sephiroth to express and explore himself, and let him know that he wasn't alone. They were his anchors. Being around Sephiroth often was a requirement too, and the more time they spent together, the stronger their connection. This goes for those who Sephiroth despises, too. They stood out amongst the gray and muddied world in his mind to become a person of interest.

What astounded me the most about Sephiroth was his ability to remain composed and devoted despite his traumatic past. He was often distant to most people, but he showed a special kind of affection to his select few loved ones, and occasionally gave this attention to the men under his command. I think there was a deep and innate goodness within him, which was unfortunately destroyed when the truth about his background and who his 'mother' was was revealed.

I think Sephiroth's empathy doesn't get enough discussion. And yes, he is an empath, even Post-Nibelheim. Let me explain: I think his empathy is rooted in his time on the battlefield, where he had to be vigilant and pick up on the slightest changes in his environment and persons around him. Great fighters are great thinkers. Outside of the battlefield, he uses his empathy to pick up on the feelings of those around him and to express his compassion in the best way he knows how. Even before he was friends with Zack, he knew he had a special bond with Angeal, and he felt a pang of guilt whenever he asked Zack to take on his assignments. In Nibelheim, he picked up on the deep yearning of his men, particularly Cloud's, to see their loved ones again and he showed concern for Tifa when she wanted to go inside the reactor.

Post-Nibelheim, his empathy is more twisted. Thanks to his time in the Lifestream and his Jenova cells, he was able to tap into people's emotions to inflict emotional pain. In my opinion, I think the biggest showcase of this is when he read Tifa's mind and created an elaborate story of how Cloud was just a Jenova puppet created by Hojo. That's a rather impressive feat, and he was so close to breaking Cloud then... His silver tongue is as sharp as his sword.

Sephiroth's sadism is sophisticated, yet viciously merciless. He desires to break others down and to project his own traumas and weaknesses into them. I'm fairly certain he does not think himself as evil and rather, righteous in dispensing the pain the world has caused him and his "mother"...

Anyway, there is much more unpack about Sephiroth, but that's what Sephology 101 is for. Feel free to ask questions or send some contributions. The course is open now.

~ TA C.C

Also, I called it on 7R Rebirth not being at the Playstation Showcase.

[izzythehutt]

I'm REALLY glad you like Jesse because idk why it seemed like you wouldn't- like. He's not endearingly young for his recklessness to be passed off as charming or romantically complex, like Sirius, and there's like a million and one reasons why he and Walt shouldn't have a relationship (like father-son) and yet you like him? Just curious lol

I find it difficult to imagine watching Breaking Bad and not having sympathy for Jesse, though I don't share the tumblr fandom's (general, broad) reduction of him to pure tragic victim of Walt's machinations. I mean, he is, but it was a mutually dysfunctional relationship and Jesse had many possible exit points from the life of crime and violence that he chose not to take. Which is on him, not Walt, even if he is young and vulnerable. It's a lot more interesting for me to view the two of them as psychologically dependent on each other in ways they aren't even conscious of than "ugh Walt is manipulating Jesse to stick with him AGAIN" because I find it very reductionist and boring as an interpretation of these characters, particularly in S1-3.

As much as Jesse complained about Walt's jerky/controlling behavior—withholding Jesse's $480k until he got off drugs, stopping him from stealing from Gus's lab—he intuitively grasped that it was often at heart rooted in an (admittedly dysfunctional) concern for him and that was what kept him going back to the relationship. Was he naive about Walt's motives and the kind of man he really was? Yes. Did he know that being around Walt made his life worse? Also yes. He wasn't that dumb. He had an attraction to crime and the excitement that came with being the partner and protégé to a genius, and craved the feeling of that genius being in his corner, having his back. Walt is possessive and in a weird way Jesse liked "belonging" to someone.

But eventually he realizes that feeling of belonging is not worth the cost to his soul.

That's one of the things I love about his character, the gradual disillusionment and maturing he goes through that allows him to finally break free of Walt's influence. The whole point of El Camino as a coda to Breaking Bad is Jesse having to learn how to live in a world where he can no longer rely on Walt—or blame him.

I've said this before, but for me the most moving moment for Jesse Pinkman in the entire franchise was when he calls his parents in El Camino and absolves them. It made me cry. Jesse has his moments of conscience and care, but that was him really growing up.

Sidebar: I really recommend this meta series of essays on Walt and Jesse's relationship which I discovered a few months ago written by @falafel14 (sorry if you don't want a tag I know you're not in brba fandom anymore but just like to credit.) I was very impressed with the level of analysis (which has held up in the ten years since it was written.) Also, I miss LiveJournal for fandom stuff, it was a way better platform for written essays than tumblr.

[mademoiselle-red]

TC chapter 4 reread, some thoughts

Like with Ralph’s “stiff” letter, Laurie is unable to make sense of the part in his mother’s letter about the Vicar missing his deceased wife until he has the proper context.

“Since I can see no earthly hope for this attachment, I ought to be wretched, but I am not.” Laurie falls in love with Andrew’s lack of awareness, since the ideal beloved of The Phaedrus is one who is in love but believes it is only friendship. I think in an AU where Andrew drops a few hairpins of his own, Laurie would probably feel repulsed by the “terrible-knowingness” (to quote the previous chapter) and frightened by the prospect of Andrew expecting an emotionally and physically intimate relationship (that would “diminish and make him less”)

“Lanyon said it didn’t, and after meeting Charles’ set I thought he was probably right. If it hasn’t been for him I might have fallen for all that, and missed this. I wish I could thank him.” I love how it only took one paragraph for Laurie to go from “Mother! I’m in love with Andrew” to “I wish I could see Lanyon again” 💭💭💭

Madge plays a song for Reg and asks him “…to forgive and forget.” Laurie, having not yet learned the importance of forgiveness in love, thinks Reg would be mortified by the gesture since the radio program exposed his domestic troubles to the entire ward, and is surprised to find Reg moved to tears. Contrary to Laurie’s expectations, Reg is more touched by Meg’s display of love and renewed commitment to him (“I never knew she felt like that”) than by the “horror, humiliation and shame” of other people knowing and judging his relationship. Laurie, not having yet experienced a love that gives him the courage to prioritize his love for his partner over his own pride, does not understand why Reg’s love for his wife is greater than his sense of social embarrassment.

“The light shining sideways on his hair made it look fairer and brighter than in the day. Shadow made the structure of his face emphatic; the eyes deeper-set, the mouth firmer. He looked for resolute, and at the same time younger.” I can’t help but read this and think: you mean he looks more like 19 year old Ralph!!!

“like a well-mannered child” — yeah, that’s just not the kind of love interest I like to read about. Also, this time around, Laurie’s initial conversations with Andrew kind of remind me of his conversations with Mervyn: an adult talking to a young boy as if they were peers to make the boy feel respected but it’s obvious to the reader that the adult doesn’t consider the boy an equal.

“At this hour, towards midday, it was almost certain that Andrew would have gone to bed. There was just the faint possibility which had become the mainspring of Laurie's morning. In the afternoon, when the whole of the night staff was sleeping, the tension relaxed; this, if Laurie would have admitted it to himself, was usually the happiest time of his day.” Once again hinting at what will become more apparent later: Laurie more happy thinking about Andrew than actually being with Andrew.

“Laurie had had a conversation, once, with a fighter pilot, who had told him that they liked to work in pairs, that one got used to the same partner. Now his imagination lifted him ten thousand feet with the wings eagles.” Awwwwww Laurie daydreaming about fighting side by side with a partner ❤️❤️❤️

“She loved him; but she was apt to offer or withhold her love in a system of rewards and punishments, as she had during his childhood.” This probably also influenced Laurie’s belief that love should only be earned and rewarded for good / virtuous behavior. He feels undeserving of Ralph’s unconditional love and underestimates his own capacity for loving Ralph unconditionally 😭

“Though he had the sense to recognise this as a total impossibility, yet he dreamed of a kind of undefined, tacit understanding, misty at the edges, like an old-fashioned photograph.” Like her understanding of Laurie’s adolescent pash for Ralph after seeing the “boy in the photograph” and hearing his stories about the R. R. Lanyon? 😏😏😏

“Laurie had always known in his inmost heart that there were times when, if his mother couldn't have her cake and eat it, she would convince herself that someone else must be to blame.” LOL, like mother, like son 🤣 but thankfully Laurie realizes his mistake by the end of the novel and breaks the cycle

Laurie likes blue eyes. His father’s are blue, Ralph’s are blue, Nurse Adrian’s are blue, but Andrew’s are grey. He doesn’t fit into the pattern, but through a trick of light, his eyes can look blue when reflecting the water in the stream. His eyes are referred to as “blue” twice in this chapter, when they are in fact grey. This distortion of the truth through a fleeting illusion is rather symbolic of the way Laurie projects his image of the ideal beloved unto Andrew throughout the book

“Laurie had noticed already that he was a literal-minded person; metaphor and hyperbole slid off him.” Poor Laurie, in love with someone who doesn’t understand his sense of bitchy sense of humor and doesn’t laugh at his jokes

“I suppose the polite come-back would be ‘No, but I should like you to save me.’ He flipped the paper over quickly.” Oh man, such a smooth pick up line, and so utterly wasted on Andrew. The man just let it fall flat like that. Just imagine how Ralph would have flirted back. “How would you like me to save you, Spud?” 😏

But also, Laurie was expecting his love for Andrew to “save” him from moral degeneracy, and it fits that Andrew doesn’t take him up on it, neither here nor later.

“Inexact terms like that are part of the war psychosis.” I feel a grim satisfaction at the fact that this particular political position towards fascism has aged so incredibly poorly 🤦‍♀️

Lol Laurie completely forgetting that some people believe in a God 🤣. Embrace your atheism Laurie!

“Andrew paused hesitantly, trailing a foot in the stream. Laurie watched with a moment’s sharp envy his relaxed body unconscious of its own ease.” Reading water as a metaphor for queerness, Andrew only hesitantly dips a foot into the stream, while Laurie is a swimmer and Ralph is a sailor. Laurie and Ralph long for love as they long for water, but are kept from what they love by their injuries, physical and emotional. Also, can’t wait for Ralph to show up so Laurie can finally feel comfortable with his body and disability 😭

“He felt absolute, filled; he could have died then content, empty-handed and free. All gifts he had ever wished for seemed only traps, now, to dim him and make him less.” Laurie believes that the fulfillment of his sexual desires and longing for intimacy would make him less than himself and diminish his worth. This belief, which gives him relief and happiness now in a chaste adolescent romance with Andrew, will cause him and Ralph so much pain when he tries to apply this moral standard to their deeper and more mature romantic and physical bond 😢

But at least his elation at being in love Andrew prompts Laurie to remember Ralph’s book, battered and worn, stained with a big patch Laurie’s blood, but “it was still there.” ❤️ No wonder Ralph was speechless when Laurie showed it to him. Laurie clung to it all these years! Went to war, almost died with it, and carried it back! 😭

It represents Laurie’s hopes and dreams for love, a dream he shares with Ralph. After Ralph’s supposed “betrayal”, when their dream seemed dead and gone, Laurie finally gives the book away, casting both of their names to the wind 😭😭😭 Andrew gets the book with just his own name written on the first page. He will have find his own person to share the dream.

[crowskulls-art-and-fandoms]

What is each of the zed stacks personalities in your au ? Including captain zero?

A MILLION YEARS LATER-

Uhhhhhh.

That is honestly difficult to answer, for I am bad at words, but I will try.

Zorran is probably one of the only ones who is genuinely just not a great person, he has his reasons but doesn't make the effort to change(at least not until later), he enjoys trouble too much. Expert manipulator, and used this to recruit the Z-Stacks, each of which he chose because of their specific uses, except Zip. Enjoys feeling powerful and is good at doing that, but does have good in him. Also, the sluttiest of the Z-Stacks. But he is still immensely protective, loyal, extremely intelligent(just doesn't use it correctly sometimes) and best of all, loves cats.

Zebedee is probably the kindest of heart, Zip only coming close because he's not that bright, but Zeb is really the only one who is mostly a good person. To an extent of course. He still enjoys his fair share of rough housing and.. Violence. But makes an effort not to make the same mistakes as his abusers, and becoming a sort of father or brother figure for Zip. He even comforts the other Zeds if they need it, though Zorran and Zak usually reject it. But like any Zed, Zeb still teases and bullies and all that. The textbook definition of tough outside, soft inside, because he can be a huge softie sometimes.

Zak. Whoo Zak. Zak is a total dick, probably the worst of the Z-Stacks. But unlike Zorran who's cunning and manipulative, Zak is straight up violent and abusive, especially towards Zip. I honestly haven't given him as much thought, in regards to redeeming qualities, he's kinda just the dickhead of the group. With frequent violent outbursts, meltdowns, and aggressive behavior towards his coworkers, even Zorran, and bullying anyone with obvious weaknesses. I can't fully blame him, after all it's all he's seen his entire life. He does show respect towards Captain Zero and Zorran, and even sees a friend in Zebedee.

Zug. Uh. Also not given the most thought. He's very skeptical, the most paranoid of the group most likely. Very cowardly and backs down from most fights, but takes advantage of Zip being even more submissive and essentially takes out his frustration on him. He still has a criminal mind and teases and bullies the Stars, even if he regrets it later. He may be paranoid but he isn't good at thinking of what bad things can happen from his schemes.

Zip is a sweet baby boy, just influenced by his more aggressive criminal coworkers. He is very air headed, naive, and has trouble understanding things sometimes, unfortunately that makes it easy for the Z-Stacks to just make him do things. He isn't dumb, simply.. Just misunderstands things. He mimicks behavior around him, teases the Stars mainly because he sees the other Zeds do it, but genuinely has a grudge against Ten-Cents though no one knows why. He gets attached very easily, and trusts even if he shouldn't, which is how he ended up mixed with the Z-Stacks. At least he has Zebedee, his first comfort and safe person.

Captain Zero, uhh. Short of it, he's a lot less scary up close. He's earned a reputation on the streets for being a dangerous crime leader, but truly he wouldn't have gotten anywhere without the Zeds, especially not without Zorran. Zero is all bark, and the Zeds are his bite. Zero is moreso a quiet business man and organizer, he's happy as long as things go according to plan, and as promised, but has the shortest fuse when it comes to failure. He does learn to get better, especially after finding his daughter.

Hope this was okay! Sorry it took so long. I'm not great at describing personalities but I tried my best, hope you enjoy. ^w^; 🫴💕

[thissortofsorcery]

I’ve had something on my mind since yesterday- how many Billy antis are Drarry shippers? Is there any crossover? The characters aren’t very similar at all, but the “redemption arc” always happens in fanon for both of them (the difference being Draco Malfoy survived in canon).

Actually, Billy would arguably be the most sympathetic character, given his home life, right? He grew up in a toxic environment and was abandoned by the only person who ever showed him love and positive emotion, after which he was tormented every day of his life.

The biggest arguments towards his lack of morality are his behavior towards Lucas and Max, both of which are understandably consequences of everything he learned as a child and as a teenager. Whether he unlearns this behavior and grows to be a better person is never shown, because he dies (in a heroic sacrifice).

On the other hand, there’s Draco Malfoy, who by all accounts grew up happy and loved and spoiled, but had his head filled with terrible propaganda by his nazi wizard parents and never had any positive influence in his life because he was actively kept from it (arguably, as a child, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t seek it out). His teenage years are up for grabs because we never see his perspective, but we only see him “change sides” as an adult, after what could be described as a prolonged traumatic experience.

And ALL of Draco Malfoy’s learning to be a better person, all of his redemption, except for one single scene in book seven which is purposefully not clear (given Harry is an unreliable narrator), happens IN FANON. It’s fiction of fiction. It’s readers seeing the potential of a character feeling remorse and bettering himself, distancing himself from problematic ideals that were pushed on him as a child.

But the thing about Billy is that he has CANON elements that give him context for his behavior, if you only look. He’s a hurt kid, he’s a kid. He’s alone. I can go on and on about how he’s isolated and unsafe and constantly on edge, but that is not my point right now.

My point is, if Draco Malfoy inspired tens of thousands of fanfics across multiple ships that explain how he’s capable of remorse, and learning, and growing, how, HOW is it so hard to believe that Billy Hargrove is capable of remorse too?

Why would Billy be incapable of learning and growing if we are shown, canonically, that he has a soft side, a sister who misses him, and that he sacrificed himself to save everyone in s3?

Where did people get the idea that Billy’s worse than a neo nazi wizard? He’s not a supervillain. He’s IN HIGH SCHOOL.

[walkthroughtheword]

Reading for November 25th

Proverbs 22

“Don’t befriend angry people or associate with hot-tempered people or you will learn to be like them and endanger your soul.” Proverbs 22:24-25

“Know this my beloved brothers, let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” James 1:19-20

Many of us grew up with the advice to “count to ten” when we get angry. This would enable us to slow down before we would say or do anything that we would regret. This is still sound wisdom, but we would add to this to stop, pray and get God’s perspective on the matter that is stirring up anger in you. This is not an easy task, but the closer we get to God, the more time we spend with Him in prayer and applying His word to our lives, the anger we sometimes feel gets easier to manage. Of course we are all going to have bad days and our tempers may flair. We might be sick, exhausted, carrying worries we haven’t let go of to God and someone just might hit our last nerve and we blow. For most of us, as soon as angry words fly out of our mouths, we know what to do. We ask for forgiveness and seek to repair the relationship. That’s the refining God brings into our lives. What a blessing that God never leaves us the same when we are truly seeking to be more like Him. And for fellow believers, this is an opportunity to show each other grace, give accountability when the door is open and help one another to be better people in Christ. Gossiping about someone that may have hurt you and damaging their reputation is not any better than the anger that has been displayed.

In reading the above verses, we believe the writer is admonishing us to keep our distance from that angry person if this is a habitual, unrepentant action on their part. Know your limits and create boundaries if you have a habitually angry person in your life. Get help for yourself in your responses such as limiting time around them. Our responses and interactions are held in accountability before God just as is their anger. Choose wisely your companions, watch the judgmental attitude (how many have heard the statement we become like the behavior we are judging) and keep in mind the influence others have on us. We are responsible for our character, our relationship with God and following what He tells us to do. May we all strive to guard our hearts and minds in Christ, show grace where we are able and listen to the wise words of God. How are you able to apply these verses in your life today? Do you associate with someone given to anger? If so, how can you make changes that will draw you and perhaps them closer to Jesus?

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” - Galatians 5:22-23 NIV

The Apostle Paul

[techtired]

Prince Narula Digital Paypal: From Reality Television to the Internet Dynamo

Prince Narula Digital Paypal is one well-known individual in this field; he is a diverse guy who has entered the digital payment scene. Over the past ten years, the digital payments landscape has changed significantly thanks to different influences and technological developments.. This blog investigates the link between PayPal's innovation and Prince Narula's impact to highlight their cooperative efforts to transform the digital payment sector. Value And Significance In Prince Narula Digital Paypal In a time when cashless transactions are almost the standard. One must first appreciate the efforts of important actors. Prince Narula's connection with digital payments and PayPal's important influence in this field draw attention to significant changes and developments by analyzing their components. We learn about the direction digital banking will go and the influence of influential people on technology acceptance. The Ascent Of Prince Narula: From Digital Entrepreneurship To Reality TV Initially a reality TV sensation, Prince Narula became well-known in India, winning MTV Roadies, Bigg Boss, and Nach Baliye, among other renowned series. He became famous very fast because of his kind demeanor and fierce drive. Narula's aspirations, meanwhile, went beyond just entertainment value. Using his popularity, he engaged in various commercial activities, having a strong passion for digital technology and financial solutions. Narula's venture into digital business was a calculated step to diversify his portfolio and profit from the growing digital economy, not only a side endeavor. Understanding the possibilities of digital payments, he teamed up with PayPal, one of the top online payment systems worldwide, to support and include digital payment solutions in his company projects. The India Digital Payment Scene Understanding the background of digital payments in India helps one comprehend Prince Narula's impact. Driven by government projects like Digital India and the demonetization policy in 2016, which pushed people toward cashless transactions, India has seen a significant change in digital transactions during the previous ten years. Already leading worldwide in online payments, PayPal grabbed the chance to increase its presence in the Indian market. Still, the competition was stiff; local companies such as Paytm, PhonePe, and Google Pay dominated the scene. In this cutthroat market, the support and use of PayPal by celebrities like Prince Narula gave the company a distinctive advantage. Digital Payments: Prince Narula Digital Paypal Association The Adventures of Prince Narula in the Digital Payment Sector Recognizing the possibilities of these technologies in modern business, Prince Narula has used his popularity to advocate digital payment options. His activities include supporting platforms that enable simple and safe transactions. Therefore, he is motivating his large following to make digital payments. Support and endorse alliances with digital payment systems Prince's reach has increased through his calculated sponsorships, partnerships with digital payment systems, and hanging out with respectable companies. He has helped to demystify digital transactions for a larger readership. Building confidence and promoting extensive application. Effect and Influence on the Digital Payments Sector Prince Narula's impact goes beyond sponsorships; his active participation in digital payment programs has helped the sector flourish by supporting these technologies. He has helped to raise their acceptance rates and inspire industry innovation. The Part Prince Narula Played in Advocating PayPal Prince Narula's partnership with PayPal is a classic case study of how celebrity sponsorships affect customer behavior, particularly in the digital realm. PayPal: With millions of followers on social media, Narula utilized his channels to promote PayPal's efficiency, security, and ease of usage. His support went beyond simple marketing; he actively included PayPal in his company operations, therefore modeling behavior for his employees. Prince Narula underlined the benefits of utilizing PayPal for commercial and personal transactions throughout social media campaigns. A youthful, tech-savvy audience already leaning toward digital solutions found resonance in his support. Narula strengthened his reputation as an innovative, forward-looking entrepreneur by linking with a reputable worldwide brand like PayPal. The Effect on Customer Attitude One cannot emphasize how Prince Narula shapes consumer behavior, especially in digital payments in a market where security and trust rule and the support of a public personality like Narula assisted consumers in regaining confidence. His frequent use of PayPal for commercial purposes proved the platform's dependability and simplicity, motivating more people to embrace it. Narula's connection with PayPal also helps to narrow the distance between urban and semi-urban viewers. Although digital payments were already standard in cities, Narula's outreach included smaller villages and towns where his following is significant. He helped to grow the digital payment ecosystem in these areas by endorsing PayPal as a safe and readily available platform. Digital Initiatives Projects by Prince Narula Social media presence Prince Narula has developed a sizable fan base on several social media sites. With millions of followers, his Instagram page is the primary avenue for distributing information on his personal life, business endeavors, and partnerships. Prince Narula has developed a devoted following by interacting with his audience via postings, narratives, and live events supporting his activities. Content Production and YouTube Understanding the rising appeal of video material, Prince Narula has also entered into YouTube. His channel combines behind-the-scenes videos, vlogs, exercise advice, and joint projects with other content makers. This stage lets him present several facets of his life and interact personally with his admirers. Brand Collaborations and Endorsements Prince Narula's digital presence has drawn several commercial partnerships and endorsement agreements. He highlights goods and services consistent with his ideals and image through alliances with other businesses. Usually involving sponsored material for social media, these partnerships increase brand awareness and provide Prince Narula with other income sources. Digital Payments' Future and Celebrity Endorsements The junction of digital payments and celebrity impact will probably become much more noticeable. The influence of celebrities in endorsing digital solutions will only become more critical as fintech firms keep looking for fresh approaches to interact with customers. To be successful, though, these sponsorships must be based on authenticity and supported by clear advantages for customers. For Prince Narula, the path from reality TV star to internet entrepreneur is evidence of how dynamically celebrity is changing in the digital era. His connection with PayPal reflects a strategic synergy that helps both sides further the general objective of digital payments in India. Observing how Prince Narula and other celebrities negotiate the changing digital payment terrain will be fascinating. The direction fintech will take in India and abroad will be significantly shaped by their capacity to affect customer behavior and propel adoption. Conclusion Prince Narula Digital Paypal's path from reality TV star to digital influencer perfectly illustrates the transforming potential of technology and the internet. He has grown his brand, interacted with followers, and investigated fresh cash sources by embracing digital platforms and technologies like PayPal. Prince Narula Digital Paypal's capacity to adapt and develop will be essential for his continuous success as the digital terrain changes. Furthermore, his path inspires future content creators by stressing the countless opportunities digital transformation presents in the search for professional and personal development. Read the full article

[bestsexologistdoctor]

Best Sexual Counseling Specialist in Patna, Bihar | Dr. Sunil Dubey, Senior Sexologist Doctor

About Sexual Education and Counseling:-

Sexual education or sexuality education is not common in India, but people study it as per their curiosity for convenience and knowledge. Generally, this education is education of issues related to human sexuality, including human sexual anatomy, sexual activity, sexual reproduction and safe sexual intercourse, sexual health, reproductive health, emotional relationships and responsibility, age of consent and reproductive rights.

In today's topic, the world famous Ayurvedacharya Dr. Sunil Dubey, the best sexologist in Patna is going to explain about the importance of sexual counseling for married and unmarried people. Why is it important for sexual health and successful married life? How to avoid sexual diseases that always bother us in increasing age?

A view on sexual counseling:-

Dr. Sunil Dubey, besides being an Ayurvedic doctor, is also a world-renowned sexual counseling expert. He not only treats his sexual patients but also counsels them. Dr. Sunil Dubey says that according to the World Health Organization report, one in every ten people suffers from sexual problems. In fact, their problems are related to their mental state. Therefore, sexual counseling is necessary for every sexual patient or a married person, so that they can avoid their misunderstandings, fears, guilt and other doubtful things.

Presently he is the first Indian sexologist doctor who has been awarded Bharat Gaurav Award and Gold Medal in New Delhi. He says that many factors like physical problem, psychological problem, daily lifestyle, diabetes, excessive consumption of alcohol, and smoking, excessive use of allopathic medicines, anxiety, heart disease and depression are the main causes of sexual dysfunction.

In fact, through sexual counseling, a person can understand the facts of his sexuality and his actions. He is able to understand the reality of sexual thoughts, behaviors and the mutual understanding of the partner for this sexual activity.

How anxiety affects a person's sexual life:-

This world famous sexologist doctor explains about anxiety and depression. He says that Anxiety is one of the main causes of sexual impairment which directly affects the sexual life of a person. Due to anxiety and depression, the level of the sexual hormone testosterone gets reduced. Due to this, the person gets long term illness in the form of diabetes and cardiovascular problems. If a person wants to improve his sexual life, he should always stay away from stress and depression.

In most of the cases of sexual dysfunction, it was found that stress and depression always affect the ability to have a good sexual health. Due to stress, the heart rate fluctuates and becomes abnormal. Moreover, it leads the person to high blood pressure. Both high blood pressure and diabetes affect the sexual life badly.

On his daily practice experience, this best sexologist doctor in Bihar says that many people get addicted to alcohol and smoking due to high level of anxiety. They do not know how health factors affect their sexual health after using them. Gradually it becomes a habit and the problem begins. With the help of sexual counseling and Ayurvedic treatment, most of the health problems get cured after a certain period of time.

Advice for patients with sexual anxiety disorders:-

Dr. Sunil Dubey requests all the people to first learn to regulate health routine and then learn to avoid anxiety or stress where it starts. Relationship Issue is not a major factor but mostly couple are under the influence of this psychological problem. Sexual Counseling is helpful for both married and unmarried people. He has researched on various sexual dysfunctions of men and women and he has observed that most of factors of these sexual dysfunctions are connected with human psychology where anxiety and depression are on top level.

He has also suggested to people that if possible, food like black urad dal mixed with two cloves of garlic and asafetida is always beneficial for health. Take a glass of cow milk every day including clarified butter and cane sugar. Utilize Ashwagandha and White Muesli improves sexual weakness. Consult the expert Ayurveda and Sexology medicine doctor for the entire sexual health wellness.

About Ayurveda and Sexology Medical Science Clinic in Patna, Bihar:-

World renowned Ayurvedacharya Dr. Sunil Dubey practices at Dubey Clinic which is India's most prestigious and highly sought certified clinic. It is one of the largest and well-equipped Ayurveda and Sexology medical science clinics in Patna, Bihar where people from all over India come to improve their sexual problems.

It is located at Langar Toli, Chauraha and Patna-04 and its services are for 12 hours every day (08:00 AM to 20:00 PM). Mostly sexual patients of Bihar always prefer this Ayurvedic Clinic first because of its quality-proven natural system of medication and experienced treatment. More than 7.6 lakh of sexual patients of India have benefited from Dubey Clinic so far.

If you want to get rid of your sexual problems forever, then you should visit this clinic once. Take an appointment from Dubey Clinic which is available on phone. Once the booking is confirmed, visit the clinic on time.

That’s all…

Regards

Dr. Sunil Dubey, Sr. Sexologist Doctor

B.A.M.S (Ranchi) | M.R.S.H (London)| Ph.D. in Ayurveda (USA)

Helpline No: +91 98350 925486

Venue: Langar Toli, Chauraha, Patna, Bihar