angie (she/her). 27 year old writer and lover of fictional husbands. đ minors and ageless/blank blogs will be blocked đ masterlist â fic recs
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â suzanne collins, sunrise on the reaping
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To the anon that sent that spicy Baldwin ask⊠your brain is too powerfulâŠ
#do I have the courage to write nsfw for Baldwin??#I donât know#mostly because I never knew how to approach it?#but your idea nonnieâŠ. itâs genius hdjwjdbw#Iâm a bit torn because as much as Iâd like to write it Iâm a bit embarrassed ndjwjdje#but thank you nonnie for the idea I will definitely think about it đ#angie rambles
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Are you really "too nice" and "a giver" and "an empath" or whatever or are you really just sabotaging all your relationships by not communicating your needs and boundaries even when asked and then eventually still blaming the other person for your burnout and resentment
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i'm a winged insect you're a funeral pyre
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do you ever have such a monumentally bad brain day that you just take away its mic?
like...... buddy, you are producing insanely bad thoughts today and believing them, I'll take it from here, get off the stage
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Remember when you see the trends, when you see things touting softness or meekness or dependence or subservience as desirable traits, when you see "clean girl" or "soft girl" or that beige/pink spotless house aesthetic, when you see homemaking and childrearing and domestic labor glamorized as Essentially Feminine Things, THAT IS PROPAGANDA.
If you Choose any of these things because they appeal to you personally and privately, that's one thing. If you feel that you Must do any of these things in order to be Desirable or Acceptable, you are eating the boot.
Remember that the patriarchy and the fascists WANT you soft. They want you waifish and babyfaced and demure and housebound and god-fearing and SILENT.
Remember always that no matter how soft or feminine or family-oriented you CHOOSE to be, you do not OWE that to anyone.
Remember always that feminism means choice and inclusion and equity. Anything that takes that away is anathema. Especially when it comes from other women.
Remember that trans women are your sisters too. Remember that an attack on one of us is an attack on all of us, and the oppression of ANY person's bodily autonomy or right to self-determination is oppression for ALL.
Remember that we stand together or we fall apart.
And remember that all of you have teeth.
USE THEM.
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WHEN ON PERIOD:
do not crash out
your feelings are NOT valid
do not send that text
don't kill yourself. lock in
do not act on negative emotions until at least 2 days have elapsed
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Still thinking about the bird. Better with kids than he lets on.
Askbox is open if y'all have any fun ideas to draw!
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generative AI literally makes me feel like a boomer. people start talking about how it can be good to help you brainstorm ideas and iâm like oh youâre letting a computer do the hard work and thinking for you???
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Itâs finally my time đđ€Ł

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communication is key
jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k warnings: sexual humour, implied sexual content (non-explicit), mention of insecurities
Jason accidentally leaves a comm behind in your apartment - it would be rude not to have a listen, right?

Itâs safe to say your evening is currently painfully boring.
Make no mistake, scrolling through Netflix is a treasured pastime most days. Somehow, it just wasnât scratching the itch alone on a Friday night, disappointed and aching for the presence your boyfriend.
Jason had left for patrol roughly an hour ago. It was supposed to be your night together â both of you had made sure to make time in the calendar to go on a long overdue date. Between your work and Jasonâs late-night patrols (which often left him fast asleep until at least midday), it was difficult to orchestrate time specifically for the two of you. Yes, you ate dinner together most evenings, often casually basked in each otherâs company as you tinkered around your shared apartment, but it wasnât the same as date night.
Jason had been more than a little pissed when heâd gotten a phone call from Dick asking him to help with the patrol this evening, face falling as soon as the caller ID lit up his phone. Bruce had to rush out of town, heâd claimed, and they needed the extra manpower after a recent Arkham outbreak. Youâd known the moment Jasonâs shoulders sagged that he would go. It was in his nature as a vigilante. Presenting him with the opportunity to save some poor, unfortunate Gothamites was like dangling a bone in front of a dog and not expecting it to bite.
You tried not to let it sting. When Jason had confessed to you about his alter-ego, youâd known that there would be certain sacrifices in your relationship most would not have to contend with. You doubted there were many people who were jealous of the amount of time their boyfriend spent with the Penguin. It was an unconventional set-up by most standards, but the two of you made it work. It was only on the odd occasion that you truly felt the impact of Jasonâs âcareer pathâ.
The silence in the kitchen had been deafening when heâd hung up the phone. Itâs not that you were angry with Jason, or Dick, or anyone for that matter. You were just disappointed. Youâd kept your mouth clamped shut as best you could out of fear that if it opened, words would trickle out in the heat of the moment youâd come to regret later on. Clearly, your silence was statement enough, because Jason had only pressed a kiss into your hair with a quiet promise to make it up to you before retreating into the bedroom to get ready for the long night ahead of him. He knew better than to press the issue.
As a result, you were perched on the couch exactly where Jason had left you. The absence of any plans youâd had for the evening left you restless, unable to settle into any particular task. And fucking hell you were bored.
It's just as you go to retreat into the bedroom to try and sleep off your lingering frustrations that you hear the crackling from the bookshelf tucked away in the corner, a short static sound that cuts through the silence of the apartment. It takes a few seconds for you to spot it, the tiny earpiece shoved behind an old, tattered paperback. Jason had been working on his suit earlier in the week, and youâd overheard his curt conversation with Bruce on the phone about needing a new set after breaking his old ones.
Not so broken, clearly.
Your curiosity is piqued enough to venture over to the shelf, plucking the tiny object up carefully to avoid breaking it any further. Youâd seen Jason tinker with them before, most likely to scramble the tracking features that came with most of the tech Bruce had given him in recent years. You can hear the muted mumble of conversation, not clear enough to make out any distinct words but enough to know that there was a lengthy talk being had on the line.
Itâs not your proudest moment as you slot it into your ear, and definitely, most likely, a severe invasion of privacy. Guilt twangs in the pit of your stomach, but hey â if Jasonâs allowed to follow you home from the bodega to make sure you donât get mugged in the precious fifteen seconds it takes, you can listen to a few minutes of radio chatter, right? Youâre just looking out for him. Want to be close to him.
Yeah, right.
Itâs uncomfortable, designed to be completely moulded to Jason, and thereâs a persistent hum that wonât seem to fade (definitely a little broken) but the voices come to life almost instantly.
âIâm just saying, Empire Strikes Back is by far the superior film, and I wonât hear otherwise.â
âMust you fill our ears with such incessant chatter, Drake.â
âCodenames. And I donât know, Robin, heâs kind of cooking.â
You recognise the final voice as Dick â the only member of Jasonâs family youâd had the pleasure of meeting despite your nearing year-long relationship. It hadnât been on purpose, naturally, Dick had spotted the pair of you in the window of a coffee shop and rushed over to corner Jason before he could formulate an escape plan that didnât involve blowing up your favourite date spot. Jason had honest-to-god hissed when he saw his brother approach, and for a split second you were certain he was going to throw his tea over him.
In spite of Jasonâs grumbling, youâd taken an instant liking to the elder. He was charismatic, exuberant and kind, and quite frankly it was hard not to bask in the warmth of his presence. As soon as heâd left, however, Jason had sworn that you were never going to meet the rest of his family if he could help it â and thus far heâd kept his promise.
Still, you were aware of the players on the board from the pieces youâd gathered in time spent with your boyfriend. The second voice, you had correctly identified, was Damian â or the Demon Brat as Jason often took to calling him when he came up. You have to stifle a laugh at his bravado. Much like the picture your mind had painted, the kid definitely had an aura about him.
That just left Tim, the first voice. Jason mentioned him the least of all of his siblings, and you found that when his name came up Jason seemed to shrink into himself somewhat, sometimes fading away, seemingly lost in memories he couldnât quite escape. You knew that Jason had a troubled relationship with most of his family members at one point or another, having been spared the specifics, but your gut told you that there was something about his relationship with Tim that cut a tad deeper than the rest.
It was strange, to finally put voices to names. You canât help the small smile that curves on your lips.
âRight, fess up, who taught Nightwing about âlet him cookâ,â A female voice rings out.
You filter through your previous conversations with Jason as you try to figure out who it could belong to, rapidly considering the vague descriptions heâd given you of Steph, Cass and Babs. It doesnât take you long to decide itâs most likely Stephanie.
âHey â could I not have just, I donât know, learned about it myself?â
âNot likely, they probably didnât have the internet until you were, what? Forty?â
âTough talk coming from a girl who gave The Last Jedi five stars on Letterboxd.â
âYou did what?â
âI must admit, Spoiler, that is disappointing.â
âDo any of you ever shut the fuck up?â
Your body thrums at the last one, and a breath tears its way out of your throat. Jason. It throws you off balance to hear him so brusk, a fire in his words that he rarely brought to the conversations you had - in your experience, it was typically reserved for when he stubbed a toe or let the pasta boil over on the stove. His voice sounds somewhat thick, and your stomach churns at the idea that your demeanour from earlier had rattled him so deeply.
You were well acquainted with Jasonâs compulsion to work; he was completely and utterly addicted to it. So much so, that youâd failed to consider just how disappointed he might feel about missing your date too.
As if on cue, Timâs voice rings out, âAww, Hoodâs upset because he was going to wine and dine his girlfriend tonight.â
âRed RobinâŠâ
âI was being polite the first time, now Iâm telling you. Shut the fuck up.â
The statement throws you a little, hearing Jasonâs family discuss your relationship as though it were a common topic. The scraps of information Jason had given you about them were so few and far in between that you could only assume he had been the same on the other side of it. Quickly, you realise, that he probably had been â you could hazard a guess coming from a family of famed detectives didnât exactly make it easy to keep secrets.
âI refuse to believe that Red Hood has a partner,â Damianâs words are impossibly snide, âWho could possibly want to spend any more time with him than is absolutely necessary?â
You make out a few giggles after that, namely Tim and Steph, who seem to be basking in the concept of making Jason as miserable as possible. Itâs Dick that steps in to shh them, chiding Damian with a measured tone that youâre sure could only have developed from years of dealing with this exact situation. The babble continues back and forth for a few minutes, and you can almost feel yourself beginning to sink into sleep as you listen to them bicker, someone occasionally slipping in some useful intel about a warehouse or rogue sighting.Â
The line goes quiet when Jason lets out a harsh, âOh, fuck!â
A pulse of lightning seems to shoot its way down your spine, and it takes more than you thought yourself capable of to not scream down the comm line.
âHood?â
âRed Hood?â
âHood, you okay?â
âHood, status report, now.â
âIâm fine,â Jason bites out, a little bemused if nothing else, âMy hip and knee are just stiff. Getting colder outside, yaâ know.â
The silence is deafening for a few seconds, and you canât claim to know where everyoneâs thoughts sink to, but you could guess it was to do with Jasonâs sordid history.
That is, until Tim pipes up dryly, âSo, what is that, like, rigor mortis?â
âOh my god.â
âThatâs so not okay, dude.â
âHoly shit.â
You wait eagerly in anticipation to hear Jasonâs response. You couldnât claim to know every detail of Jasonâs past â it was something the two of you were slowly working on together. He was understandably cagey at the idea of talking about his experiences, so you never pressed, instead allowing him to offer up bits and pieces of information in his more vulnerable moments. In spite of that, you knew that Jason had died. There wasnât another plausible explanation for the giant Y-scar that stretched its way across his chest. Youâd worked for a long time on getting him to feel comfortable enough to be around you without a shirt on, comfortable enough to know you werenât going to turn tail and run just at the sight. He hadnât told you how or why â but the look in his eyes when he stared in the mirror for a second too long was enough to let you know it was certainly no fairytale.
Which is why itâs such a surprise when a deep, rumbling laugh filters through the earpiece, and youâre struck with the image of Jason perched on a rooftop somewhere chuckling to himself as he watches over the city. Within seconds thereâs an orchestra of maniacal cackles pouring through the comms, and youâre fairly certain that the only one who isnât laughing is Damian.
âHood, does your partner know of your death and resurrection?â
Jeez, Damian, way to soften the blow.
Dick quickly jumps in to chastise his brother, sounding increasingly more exasperated with every word, âRobin, you canât ââ
âYeah, she does,â Jasonâs voice is surprisingly earnest, âDonât think it bothers her, not really.â
Tim and Steph jump in almost immediately to make outrageous kissing noises, crooning Oh, Hood and I love you, Hood and other slightly more inappropriate comments. Youâre certain if you looked in the mirror the colour of your cheeks wouldnât be far off Jasonâs helmet.
âHonestly, you two need to stop behaving like I donât have your exact coordinates,â Jason huffs out, but you can hear the twinge of humour in his words. Heâs not angry, not at all, if anything youâd say he was finding it funny.
âSeriously though, Hood,â Stephâs voice is somewhat strained from laughing, âWhen are you going to introduce us?â
âNever.â
âCome on, man.â
âDick got to meet her!â
âI would be interested in assessing the capabilities of this civilian.â
âYeah, well, sheâs more than capable.â
Now that has a little more bite to it, and your chest swells with pride at Jasonâs defensiveness. Youâd always felt a tad insecure about how you compared to the rest of the people in Jasonâs life â surrounded by superheroes, metahumans, and some of the most proficient individuals in the world. You were just a civilian, and in your opinion, nothing all that special. But Jason had always made sure that you felt equal, that the differences in what you did outside the walls of your apartment had no bearing on the fact his world started and ended with you.
 âSo⊠does the mask stay on when you get freaky or ââ
âSteph, donât make me come over there, you know I will.â
âCodenames.â Honestly, you canât help but respect Dick for his seemingly unwavering patience, although you could guess it might be due to the noticeable absence of Batman himself to rein in his children in his place. âSpoiler, we have a child with us.â
âI donât understand Spoiler. What is getting freakyââ
âPlease,â Dickâs begging now.
âOh, B is gonna have fun with that when he gets home.â
âPfft, you think B is going to know what getting freaky means?â
âYou know that means heâs going to ask us, right?â
âShit.â
Your brain starts to feel fried just listening to them. And the most obscene part of it all is that you can hear them fighting, subduing local criminals while simultaneously having one of the weirdest conversations youâve ever been a party to (well, secretly a party to). You have to place the earpiece on the other side of the room and retreat into the bathroom to let out what could be a laugh or a scream â you canât be sure.
Unsurprisingly, when you slot the earpiece back in again, the conversation has shifted.
You only catch the end of Timâs words, but itâs enough to send your entire body into a state of shock, ââ when the wedding happens.â
âWhen the wedding happens,â Jason bites out breathlessly, clearly in the middle of some kind of confrontation, âYour sorry ass isnât going to be fuckinâ invited.â
And the comm line erupts.
âWhen the wedding happens?â
âWHAT?â
âGuys, fuckinâ hell, I didnât mean it like ââ
âIâm presuming this means you have a ring, yes, Todd?â
If you werenât already sat, youâre certain your legs would have given way underneath you. The room is spinning, youâre overwhelmed by the feeling of the world shifting on its axis and you can feel your heart vibrating in your throat.
You and Jason had never made any point of talking about marriage. It had come up casually, as it did in the conversations of most couples â but you had never had any particularly serious discussions about the subject. You, for one, had avoided it out of fear of spooking Jason, whom youâd already spent enough time coaxing out of his shell without potentially scaring him back in again. You had no idea that it was something that he was thinking about.
Of course, you wanted to marry him. From the moment heâd asked you to be his girlfriend, youâd known that he was the only option.
âOne last time,â Dickâs voice tears you from your thoughts, grating like nails on a chalkboard. It sends a chill through your entire body and for a brief second you can envision what it would be like to be confronted by Nightwing on a bad day. âCodenames. I donât care if you donât think anyone is listening ââ
âFunny you say that. Someone is listening.â
Itâs a womanâs voice. That must be Babs.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Abort. Abort. Abort. Immediately.
If you thought the comm line had exploded before, this was an atomic bomb. Itâs a cacophony, instantly. Not the casual chattering over each other of minutes prior, instead itâs angered shouts, concerned whispers and vehement speculations about who it could possibly be.
The last thing you hear when you drop the earpiece into the garbage disposal with a sickening clang is Jasonâs concerningly enlightened âOh shitâ.

Youâve been lying in bed practicing pretending to be asleep for an hour when Jason finally peels through the bedroom window. It takes everything you can muster to regulate your breathing, steady your heartbeat and lay still enough to feign unconsciousness.
The telltale rustling of Jason pulling off his costume as quietly as possible is enough to make you let out a barely-there sigh of relief. Thereâs a fleeting sadistic pride that burns in your chest at the thought that youâve fooled the mighty Red Hood.
âSo, where is it?â
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Maybe if you donât answer, heâll just lay off â
âI know youâre awake.â You nearly jump up to the ceiling because he says it directly into your ear and you didnât even hear him move from beside the window. Fucking vigilantes.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you borderline whimper, and abruptly realise if you were going to double-down you probably should have done it with a bit more authority.
âReally, sweetheart? Thatâs what weâre going with.â
You roll over ever so slightly, just enough to pull your face from the pillow. Jasonâs eyes are practically glowing in the dark of your bedroom and his face is not even an inch from yours. Heâs close enough that you can make out the ever so slight sweaty dampness of his hair, that you could trace the freckles and scars alike that are dotted across his face â you can also make out the unmistakable curve of his lips, upwards ever so slightly at the corner.
âGarbage disposal.â The words come out quicker than you thought was physically possible and could potentially be mistaken for the creaking of a door in a different context given the pitch of them. Youâre not sure if you feel like a weight has been lifted off your chest or tied to your foot and subsequently flung into a river.
The silence is painful. Agonising. Itâs too dark to completely make out Jasonâs expression, his body completely still. Youâre not even sure if heâs breathing.
And then he starts to shake, shoulders first, before the rest of his body follows. He collapses onto his side of the bed, jolting the mattress, and the vibrations are enough to confirm your suspicions. Heâs laughing his fucking head off.
âYou put it in the garbage disposal?â Thereâs disbelief lacing his words, and his own question only sets him off again. You throw a weak punch at his arm out of fear of him waking the neighbours.
âYouâre not mad?â Your disbelief matches his own as you finally flip over to face him, now draped in the moonlight pouring through your bedroom window.
His laughter subdues, and he pauses contemplatively before sighing, âI probably should be. But, no, Iâm not. Iâd be a liar if I said I wouldnât do the same fuckinâ thing.â
Thatâs the only signal you need to traverse the bed at break-neck speed, throwing yourself into Jasonâs arms and burying your face into the crook of his neck. Without missing a beat, his arms come around to draw soft patterns up and down your back, and he lets out a relaxed hum of approval.
âIâm sorry about tonight, baby,â he wonât quite look you in the eye as he says it, and you can practically feel the guilt emanating off of him, âI know how much you were looking forward to it. We were looking forward to it.â
âJay,â you sigh, raking a hand through his hair, âI love you. What you do makes you who you are, if I couldnât accept that your aggressive vigilantism was going to have to come first sometimes, we wouldnât be together.â
He presses a chaste kiss to your neck with a soft mumble, âI love you too. Too good fâme.â
âShut up and go shower,â you giggle, shoving him away, âYou stink, pretty boy.â
Jason feigns offense comically, drawing back with a scandalised grin and a shake of his head. You instantly feel the loss as he clambers out of bed, keeping your hands against him for as far as you can reach. Thereâs a quaint smile on his face as he begins to saunter over to the bathroom. God, you love this man.
âJay?â You call, just before the bathroom door clicks shut.
âYeah, princess?â
âI like your family. They seem nice.â You get little more than a grumble in response, and youâre not sure there were any discernible words in there to begin with as he pulls the door to again.
âOh, and Jason?â
âYeah?â
âYou know that thing Steph said â uh, you know â about the mask?â
You can hear the echo of Jasonâs forehead smacking against the doorframe through the wall.

microsoft word giving me italics is like Prometheus stealing fire and giving it to humanity - best believe its a power i'm going to abuse
If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.
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King Baldwin IV - Courting Headcanons đ€
a/n: Here we are again! These are a couple headcanons of mine about a potential courtship with our beloved king. The pining is very real! As always, feel free to hit my inbox for any and all rambling. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reblogging!
wc: 1.3k
tags: king baldwin iv (kingdom of heaven version) x female!reader; fluff
Ah, congratulations! You have managed to capture the heart and attention of the great Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Baldwin never much contemplated the thought of love, having to face war, his disease and the duty to defend his kingdom from great enemies from a very young age. The weight of the crown and of his responsibilities sits heavy on his head. Which is why you are a breath of fresh air in his chaotic life. No matter how he notices you - maybe you spoke up during a conflicting situation, offering valuable insight, or maybe the King randomly met you while you strolled in his gardens, or maybe he was impressed by your spirit and fighting abilities - having Baldwinâs attention is an honor. You should be proud!
After noticing you, the King would invite you to spend time with him to get to know you better, although without the intention of courting you, at first. As like-minded individuals who share the same principles, a genuine friendship would quickly bloom between you. Even if your interests wouldnât align at first, you would soon find yourselves eager to share your knowledge. For instance, Baldwin would listen to you talk about the plot of the book youâre reading and the lesson you are learning from it without ever taking those blue eyes off of you. He would not only listen, but remember your conversations, as they offer him invaluable insight on the person that you are.
Even Baldwin doesnât notice at first how much your presence is soothing to him. He keeps inviting you to mass on Sundays (giving you the honor of sitting next to him), to a walk in his gardens where he would ask you about your day, to chess games where you would have battles of wits. The hours would pass dreadfully quickly during these meetings.
Baldwin would have a random epiphany about how deeply he aches for you, and it would steal his breath. During a strategy or diplomatic meeting with his advisors, he would catch himself thinking about you. Maybe someone mentioned your homeland and suddenly his thoughts are spiraling about how your laugh warmed his heart that day, or how lovely you looked with your hair done just like that, or how he wished he could be with you. That is when it would dawn on him that you have taken much more space in his heart than he anticipated. Baldwin never gets distracted during state affairs meetings. And you managed to distract him.
This is when the doubts would creep in. He knows he canât have an heir born of his own flesh and blood (his heart would clench when he sees you play with Sibyllaâs son), thus making marriage an unnecessary option. And yet he desires it with you. It would not be a political marriage, but a union of two souls meant to be together. But would you accept to tie yourself to him in such a way, knowing that the Angel of death would come to take him from you so soon? That he would condemn you to an eternity of grieving and widowhood?
Yet, the more time he spends with you, the more fiercely you latch onto his heart. You are just so dear to him, first of all because he can feel that your interest in him is genuine, not tainted by the thirst for power. Your kindness and sensitivity have stolen his heart even before your looks did. I like to imagine that he would allow himself to be selfish and before he knows it, his mind is set, and he will start courting you.Â
Ah, congratulations! You have managed to capture the heart and attention of the great Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Baldwin never much contemplated the thought of love, having to face war, his disease and the duty to defend his kingdom from great enemies from a very young age. The weight of the crown and of his responsibilities sits heavy on his head. Which is why you are a breath of fresh air in his chaotic life. No matter how he notices you - maybe you spoke up during a conflicting situation, offering valuable insight, or maybe the King randomly met you while you strolled in his gardens, or maybe he was impressed by your spirit and fighting abilities - having Baldwinâs attention is an honor. You should be proud!
After noticing you, the King would invite you to spend time with him to get to know you better, although without the intention of courting you, at first. As like-minded individuals who share the same principles, a genuine friendship would quickly bloom between you. Even if your interests wouldnât align at first, you would soon find yourselves eager to share your knowledge. For instance, Baldwin would listen to you talk about the plot of the book youâre reading and the lesson you are learning from it without ever taking those blue eyes off of you. He would not only listen, but remember your conversations, as they offer him invaluable insight on the person that you are.
Even Baldwin doesnât notice at first how much your presence is soothing to him. He keeps inviting you to mass on Sundays (giving you the honor of sitting next to him), to a walk in his gardens where he would ask you about your day, to chess games where you would have battles of wits. The hours would pass dreadfully quickly during these meetings.
Baldwin would have a random epiphany about how deeply he aches for you, and it would steal his breath. During a strategy or diplomatic meeting with his advisors, he would catch himself thinking about you. Maybe someone mentioned your homeland and suddenly his thoughts are spiraling about how your laugh warmed his heart that day, or how lovely you looked with your hair done just like that, or how he wished he could be with you. That is when it would dawn on him that you have taken much more space in his heart than he anticipated. Baldwin never gets distracted during state affairs meetings. And you managed to distract him.
This is when the doubts would creep in. He knows he canât have an heir born of his own flesh and blood (his heart would clench when he sees you play with Sibyllaâs son), thus making marriage an unnecessary option. And yet he desires it with you. It would not be a political marriage, but a union of two souls meant to be together. But would you accept to tie yourself to him in such a way, knowing that the Angel of death would come to take him from you so soon? That he would condemn you to an eternity of grieving and widowhood?
Yet, the more time he spends with you, the more fiercely you latch onto his heart. You are just so dear to him, first of all because he can feel that your interest in him is genuine, not tainted by the thirst for power. Your kindness and sensitivity have stolen his heart even before your looks did. I like to imagine that he would allow himself to be selfish and before he knows it, his mind is set, and he will start courting you.Â
âYour Grace!â You quickly stand up from the bench, your book falling from your lap to lay forgotten near the rose bushes. For a moment, you wonder if youâve been visited by an Angel - all you see is the white and gold of his robe swirling with the wind, sunlight glinting off of the familiar silver mask. You bow as King Baldwin approaches you. What has him out in such a rush, as if a horde of Saracens were at his door? The King says your name with a trembling breath, his shoulders heaving from exertion. You look even more ethereal than ever - sunlight framing you like a halo and the rose bushes arching above you, bathing you in a rainbow of red, pink, orange and white blossoms. He closes the distance between you, coming as close as he dares without breaching the rules of propriety. Something latches fiercely onto his heart when he sees the way youâre looking at him, bright eyes shining with awe and hope, lips slightly parted. Emboldened by your reaction, the King stretches his arm out behind you, gloved hand closing around the stem of a white rose. He pulls at the flower, and you wonder if he can feel the prick of the thorns. The thought is quickly forgotten when he hands the rose to you. This is so unlike him, but at this moment Baldwin feels more like a boy in love, not a King courting his beloved. He repeats your name, relishing the way your face lights up when he pronounces each syllable. âPlease, allow me the honor of courting you.â
He would literally be the picture of honor and romance when courting. Itâs just what you deserve! Speaking of gifts, he wonât spend a fortune on generic luxury items such as large gems or fine clothes; heâd pick out quality pieces that would be unique and surprisingly perfectly suited to your aesthetic, showing you how thoughtful he really is. Elegant quills, delicate hair pins, rare books, extravagantly scented candles or exotic fragrances would be more his style. He likes to hand the gifts to you when you are out together because he loves seeing your pretty face light up, but I also like to imagine him letting you find the presents in your chambers, with a sweet note attached, for you to still think of him when your day is coming to a close (not that you wouldnât otherwise). Later on in the courting stage, heâd even have a chess board made just for you where the queen and king match your likeness, for you to enjoy matches together! (That chess board is now in a museum).
Another way of spending quality time would be horse riding. He would be very gallant even if you were a proficient rider, waving away the guards to offer you his hand himself to help you get on and off the horse and making sure that you are correctly mounted first. Heâd make your heart race while holding his hand, which is surprisingly strong and firm under his soft glove. When asked about your sudden flush, you would blame it on the hot Jerusalem winds and sun.
His sister would be one of the first people to notice that you found the Kingâs favor. She is very observant, yet it does not take an expert to see that you and Baldwin have grown quite close. All in all, Sibylla would approve of you and your union with Baldwin, especially after seeing how truly devoted you are to spending time together for the pleasure of each otherâs company, without seeking political advantage. She would invite you to spend time together, such as chatting while having your henna painted, because she wants to get to know the person who clearly stole her brotherâs heart.
All in all, I think a courtship with Baldwin would be sweet, hopeful and discreet at first. Soon enough, the court would see that Baldwin is quite taken with you. The most ambitious courtesans would use this knowledge in hopes of exploiting your connection with the King to their advantage. Luckily, I also think Baldwin would be quite protective, and as soon as he senses that youâre attracting unwanted attention, he would get Tiberias, Balian or a trusted advisor to help him keep an eye on you. However, on a positive note, you would instantly gain the respect of the most loyal members of the court. After all, if a King as wise as Baldwin has chosen you, that speaks volumes about your character. đ
dividers by: @/firefly-graphics
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đ "I am Jerusalem..." đ
Slightly more historical take on King Baldwin IV, based on my own concept of a more obviously Frankish-styled armor than what we see in the film. If anyone wants me to geek out on the choices I made, just let me know in the comments, lol.
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Dydd GĆ”yl Dewi Hapus ~ Happy St. Davidâs Day
In olden times it was believed that daffodils bloomed around the 1st of March in honour of Saint David, the patron saint of Wales. Saint Davidâs feast day falls upon this day when we also celebrate the first meteorological day of spring.
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