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aurianavaloria · 3 days

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KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

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“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

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Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

youtube

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #tiberias #raymond iii of tripoli #koh fandom #baldwin iv of jerusalem #the leper king #fanfiction #reader insert #baldwin iv x reader #fem reader #my fanfiction #Youtube

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acti-veg · 2 days

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do you support a one or two state solution? what is the difference between the two?

The one-state solution generally advocates merging Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip into a single state. Some favour creating a single democratic country, where Arab Muslims would outnumber Jews, thus ending the Zionist project of Israel as a Jewish state. The other version involves Israel annexing the West Bank and either forcing out Palestinians, annihilating them or just denying them the right to vote or take part in civic life. A two-state solution is advocating that Israelis and Palestinians both have their own independent state, though the variations between different approaches on this one tend to be much wider. People argue over what the political arrangement would look like, where each state would end, UN membership etc.

I think that the ideal scenario would be a one state solution where Israelis and Palestinians were both represented, under a fair democracy, with wealth redistributed and displaced Palestinians return home. The problem is that with things as they are now, because of the western support, wealth and military power Israel enjoys, practically speaking, the ‘one state’ would be Israel. Israel would likely keep its existing power structures and prejudices, Palestinians would be second class citizens, poor, very likely oppressed and with minimal representation.

For that reason, I’ve always advocated for a two-state solution under the terms of a return to something resembling armistice lines that were agreed at the end of the 1948 Arab-Israeli War. I’d also want to see the return of Resolution 94, which stated that Palestinian refugees who wish to return to their homes should be allowed to do so. Israel would also need to fund the rebuilding of a prosperous Palestinian state.

I'll admit though, it is difficult to see how this could be agreed in practice. With Israel committing genocide in the region, they will create a whole new generation of terrorists, freedom fighters, and militants of all political stripes, who have been radicalised, orphaned, disenfranchised or displaced by the genocide. The IOF have all but ensured another century of conflict, even if the West does decide to withdraw their support of the genocide.

I really don't know what the right answer is, I just know that an immediate and permanent ceasefire, is required to even begin to figure it out. Which ever 'solution' you advocate for, any reasonable person will agree that there can never be an end to the conflict while Israel continues to torture, displace, execute and starve the Palestinian people. And not until the West stops supplying the IOF with arms and political support, either.

#ask #israel #palestine

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cursedvibes · 3 days

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Curious, what’s your opinion on all the theories that Yuuji will become less human and “turn into Sukuna”? Whether it’ll be for just a moment or like as his endgame-

I will mainly base my response on this theory because that's the most popular version of it I've seen around.

Basically, I do agree that Yuuji is getting a bit lost in his hate for Sukuna and loses sight of Megumi in favour of his desire to kill Sukuna no matter what. I honestly also welcome the change somewhat and for Sukuna to influence him. It would be boring if Sukuna is the only one who changes during this fight. It would be nice for Yuuji to have a similar reflective moment as him at some point. Questioning what he's doing, what he's fighting for and how far he's willing to go and then basing the way he kills/defeats Sukuna on it. The fight with Mahito changed him too and made him discover and accept a new side of himself. While Mahito made him adapt the cog mentality, Sukuna might be the one to push him to be more selfish again. Ideally, he would eventually find the middle point between these two extremes.

However, that doesn't mean he will ever be exactly like Sukuna or turn into him. No matter what, they are different people with different experiences that shaped them since their conception (even before their birth). When Yuuji admitted him and Mahito are the same, he didn't suddenly start torturing people for fun, he just recognized how he engages with the world and his role in it. Yuuji will potentially become more ruthless and lost in the heat of the battle now, but I don't see him ever delighting in bloodshed the way Sukuna does. People forget that no matter the parallels and vessel shenanigans, Yuuji is still his own person. That's what kept him from just being another submerged vessel of Sukuna. That's what makes Sukuna lose control over his soul right now. He doesn't entirely recognizes it himself yet, but he does have unique qualities that are the reason he's so exceptionally irritating to Sukuna. Also, Jin is a much more literal Ryomen Sukuna and he acts very different from him. Because even if jujutsu might see them as the same being and even though they used to share a body (just like Yuuji and Sukuna), their experiences and background shaped them into very different people. Mind you I'm a big supporter of fucked up Jin, but he would be still unhinged in a different way than Sukuna. Normal but seeming just a bit uncanny. Not a rabid mass murderer.

I also think that even if Yuuji gives into his darkest thoughts, him becoming a Sukuna 2.0 is very much not the intention if he goes completely crazy. He was designed by Kenjaku to eventually develop the skills he has now (minus the soul punching potentially, but that's not certain) and to unlock his full potential, he would have to become more selfish and hateful. Facing Mahito and Sukuna helped in that regard and pushed him further. Kenjaku wouldn't want him to turn into another Sukuna though because in that case...well, Sukuna is already there. I think that is part of why they specifically chose Jin to create Yuuji with and didn't somehow try to convince Sukuna to do it or mix his blood in there or whatever. It's also why unlike Sukuna, Yuuji didn't grow up in isolation and ostracisation from society, being told from the moment he's born that he's cursed. He grew up without even knowing anything about jujutsu, contrary to Sukuna who was thrown right in the midst of it from the beginning. I think that's deliberate. Kenjaku could've seen to it that Yuuji turned away from society and gave into violent/destructive impulses much earlier, but they didn't. Seems more like they wanted to build a strong foundation, the possibility to foster ideals and build genuine connections before challenging them and seeing how Yuuji would react to it, potentially being fired up even more by it and pushed to evolve further. There would be no use to repeat what created Sukuna exactly the same way because then you'll get the same result. Kenjaku wants something that will surprise them and this is the only way I see that happening.

To address the claims the person posting the theory made directly:

I don't think this change happened after his awakening, I think it happened after Choso's death and even then Yuuji is not as blinded by hate yet as the person makes him out to be. Yuuji didn't call out further to Megumi in Yuuta's domain because for one there wasn't that much time and it was also pretty clear that Megumi either couldn't hear him or wouldn't be pushed that easily to fight back against Sukuna. That's why his Black Flashes were so important. They weaken Sukuna's power over Megumi (as you can also see by Sukuna's changed domain) and would give him more freedom. Plus, this must shake up Megumi too. Yuuji's gonna make him listen if there's no other option. The Black Flashes aren't there to kill Sukuna without concern for anyone else, they're the only chance they have to get Megumi out of there or at least give him back control (he only has to take it). Yuuji didn't call out to him or specifically think of him (at least it wasn't vocalised for the reader), but that doesn't mean he forgot about Megumi. We've generally heard very little of Yuuji's thoughts during this fight and it was still clear Megumi was his aim in all this.

In my opinion, Yuuji only really dips into selfish and reckless hate when he's clawing at Sukuna's chest to tear his heart out (which wouldn't immediately kill Sukuna btw as Yuuji knows very well). It's where we see him completely livid. Still, previously, he very much shows concern for his comrades. He does get angry when Sukuna shows up after Choso dies, but it's more a gritting of teeth to steal himself, he's not raging like when he claws at Sukuna's chest. Plus, Todo showing up and telling him the others are probably okay is what gives him the strength to give it his all again and jump full force back into the fight. That took some convincing and believing in Todo's words, he wasn't gonna do that to begin with or his mindset when seeing Todo and hearing about the others would've been different. Todo wouldn't have needed to say anything at all then and Yuuji wouldn't have been so relieved to hear his reassurance. Choso's death making him question his cog mentality by ripping something important away from him, but also showing him Choso thinks his life has value is what set off his hate, but he doesn't immediately fall into it. Chapter 260 and 261 are the first real glimpses we see of it.

I think Todo being here is very important for that reason. He might not particularly care about Megumi, but he cares about Yuuji and his mental health. He wouldn't let Yuuji turn into a hate-driven monster, much less become a second Sukuna. He has helped Yuuji find himself before and I can see him being a grounding and supportive presence in this fight once again.

Now as mentioned in the beginning, I do agree with the points that Yuuji is becoming more selfish with his hate towards Sukuna and he could easily be consumed by it. Sukuna is slowly changing him in his attempt to fight against him. I like that development and am looking forward to it. We've seen Sukuna has succeeded in breaking Yuuta's ideals, but I don't see Yuuji being quite at that stage yet. Yuuji always had a viscousness to him, he was never a perfect little schoolboy with a halo over him, in that case I don't think Sukuna would've had such trouble with him. He was determined to kill Sukuna by any means necessary before Shinjuku, but he also very much always had Megumi at the back of his mind, being pretty much one of the few besides Hana or Higuruma who showed outright concern. That's slipping, but he just got there. Choso was the real turning point, not Yuuji's awakening.

And I just completely disagree with the last two tweets. Yuuji and Sukuna aren't the exact same, that would honestly be quite pointless and not a very thrilling message or ending. You made a boy give up on his ideals and be driven by pure hate or adapt Sukuna's mindset. Wow, groundbreaking. We just saw that happen with Yuuta. He doesn't have this genuine hate for Sukuna Yuuji has, but we see through him that breaking a young sorcerer's ideals and good intentions is possible. We don't need that message repeated with Yuuji. If anything, this might be a good reminder for Yuuji for who he might turn into if he's not careful. Yuuji becoming exactly like Sukuna, down to his title would be such a weird thing to end on. What's that supposed to tell us. There will always be a Sukuna? How profound. There will always be that one strongest monster in the world? Yuuta is literally trying to achieve that right now and you can see what a weak philosophy it is and unsustainable at that. Yuuji becomes the strongest sorcerer in history...yay?

Yuuji is neither mentally, physically and especially not spiritually Sukuna and he's not supposed to be.

#asks #jjk spoilers #itadori yuuji

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wrongdodo · 3 days

Text

Waiting

Characters: Dad!Whitney, Mum!Reader, and your daughter Riley (featuring GN!River and GN!Robin)

Genre: Fluff/Angst (it DO get angsty...)

Warnings/Content: Unplanned pregnancy, brief allusion to abortion. Parenthood angst. Swears.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Riley’s turning 5 soon, and will be finishing pre-school in spring. You and Whitney meet with a local principal to discuss her enrolment – and it’s a familiar face.

A/N: I might do a longer A/N in another post because I have some THOUGHTS. This was super hard to write, but I’m so glad I persevered (thanks @propertyofwhitney67 for being my sounding board) First version was too fluffy, second version was too angsty… hopefully this one is just right. I like it :)

A/N 2: I posted some thoughts.

The ticking clock is deafening.

You’re pretty sure life never used to involve this much waiting. But now, it felt like there was always a reason to wait.

It’s a battle to stop your foot tip-tapping against the tiles, and Whitney’s not faring much better. Oh, he tries to hide it, but you’ve known him long enough to spot the signs. Nibbling lightly on his sleeve, eyes glued to the clock. He’s tense, and it’s understandable given the circumstances. Whitney had insisted on arriving early to make a ‘good impression’. So far, it just meant more time sitting anxiously in the school corridor.

You hate waiting. You’d done your fair share, and it never got easier.

You remember waiting in the orphanage bathroom, where it took 3 minutes for tiny lines to appear on a piss-dipped stick. You were alone then, perched on the bathtub – so nauseous you might splatter the ceramic with vomit. Responsible boyfriend Whitney had insisted on using protection… Well, there were a few occasions where it might have been overlooked in the heat of the moment. You remember how panic’s long fingers wrapped your throat. And the guilt, too. Fertile little slut, aren’t you? Your own words. Whitney never blamed you, but there was no need when you were so good at that yourself.

You waited to tell Whitney you were pregnant – 12 lonely hours that left you feeling hollowed out with worry. You’d never discussed kids – because you were teenagers. Better tell him in person, you thought, staring at the ceiling through raw, reddened eyes. It’s the right thing to do. Ironic how you were so sure of yourself then –so naive. Parenthood raises so many questions, and not nearly enough answers. You wished you could still be so sure of the right thing to do.

Part of you still wishes you hadn’t waited to tell him in person, because you wish you’d never seen the colour drain from Whitney’s face. Rarely one to offer you the comfort of privacy, he’d insisted that whatever his slut had to say, it could be said on the roof in front of everyone. All you could manage was a whisper, but the impact was blinding. He vanished like smoke. You didn’t see or speak to Whitney for two days.

So, you waited.

He was waiting, too, ‘til those nasty, fearful, fucked up feelings could be gathered up and squashed down in the pit of his stomach - right where they fucking belong. He waited ‘til his knuckles were bruised against bricks, until his eyes stung dry in their sockets. Only then did he come to find you. When he did, Whitney clung to you fearfully as he waited for the right words to come. They didn’t for a long time.

You waited together for the first appointment, in a room much like this one – beige floor tiles, fluorescent light and walls tinged with pale piss-yellow paint. Whitney was nervous then, gripping your hand hard enough to hurt. You’d let him.

Despite fear, he never pushed you. Right off the bat, he told you he’d support any decision you chose to make, as any noble impregnator should. At the time, you tried hard to feel grateful – because it felt shitty not to be. Wasn’t he being so supportive, letting you take the lead?

But… it was lonely. It wasn’t until recently he’d shamefully admitted how it was easier to distance himself – leaving you to make that tough decision on your own. He’s sorry for that.

That was a long time ago, in another life. It would be Riley’s birthday soon – 5 years old, holy shit. Hard to believe she’d be finishing pre-school in summer, and starting Primary School in autumn. Picking the right school for your daughter was one of those Big Family Decisions you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to making. Now, you’re waiting to meet with the principal, to discuss Riley’s admission. You know to expect a familiar face.

River had been in charge of Willow Primary School for 3 years. From what you’d researched, they’d switched jobs shortly after Leighton’s arrest – who could blame them for wanting a fresh start? This school was going from strength to strength with River at the helm – and that’s exactly the reason you’d chosen it. All that remained was to convince them that Riley would be an excellent addition. How hard could it be? She’s a star.

“D’ya think River’ll remember us?” Whitney whispers, his eyes fixed on the clock. There’s no need to keep your voices low - there’s nobody else around, and the receptionist clearly doesn’t care. She’s busy clacking at her keyboard while the phone rings endlessly.

You smile wistfully. “Oh, they’ll remember you.” Easy answer – River probably still had flashbacks.

“You think?” Whitney stretches in the uncomfortable seat, leaning back. The flimsy chair creaks in protest. “Yeah… probly right…”

It startles you when the office door finally swings open; the sudden noise causes you both to stiffen in your seats. River looks… much the same as they did years ago, in all honesty. Only their hair’s a little greyer and they’re dressed a little smarter – a sharp suit befitting their new role as leader of a successful school. They look the part.

But practiced, professional composure is no match for the shock of seeing Whitney sat opposite – older, but still completely recognisable. In fact, you’re not even sure River notices you. When they speak, it’s not to you.

“Whitney,” they stride over, palm outstretched. “Always thought I’d be retired before any of your offspring made it into the school system.” You wonder how long River’s had that line rehearsed. You’re surprised to feel yourself relax; there’s some comfort in the familiarity of the teacher’s face.

Your eyes flicker to Whitney; he seems a little less anxious too - the sight of his old maths teacher must be reigniting a relaxed confidence. It’s not like Whitney was ever afraid of River – far from it. But it was safe to say they always had an interesting dynamic.

“River,” he nods, grasping the outstretched hand. Knowing Whitney, it’s sure to be an overly-firm handshake.

“And…” River’s expression wavers as they turn towards you – it’s painfully clear they’ve forgotten your name. Still, it doesn’t stop them from thrusting a hand into yours. There’s no choice but to reintroduce yourself. Maybe you can forgive their lapse in memory – you’re a pair of ghosts, after all.

Tentatively, you’re led inside the small office. It’s neat and organised – nothing like Leighton’s was. If anything, it’s little soulless, despite a few little touches of character. River settles behind the large wooden desk, and you perch on two chairs opposite. The air smells of… nothing. A vase of artificial sunflowers gather dust on the windowsill. There’s a school motto emblazoned on the wall, in an aggressively cursive font makes it impossible to read.

“Is little Riley not joining us?”

“No, she’s with a friend,” you explain. “They’re meeting us here after, though.”

It never actually occurred to you to bring Riley along – it might have been a smart move, actually. Your daughter regularly has strangers eating out of her hand.

“So,” River leans back, trying their best to look comfortable. “What can you tell me about Riley?”

Whitney glances to you expectantly. Looks like Mum’s fielding the first question.

“Well… she’s a great kid…” Already, you feel your shoulders ease into shrug, because it’s hard to know where to begin. Still, River seems to be hanging on your every word. “She’s turning 5 next month… She’s happy – really smart for her age. She’s can write her name, and her reading’s coming along really well, and-”

“You wanna see her, right?” Whitney doesn’t need a response - he’s tapped open his camera roll and is leaning over - fully prepared to give River a detailed context for each and every photograph. You smile knowingly. There’s likely to be a whole lot of photos.

You wonder which particular album River’s being treated to. Riley feeding ducks at the park in her brand-new raincoat… or maybe Riley wrapped in a striped football scarf, cheeks flushed with cold in the stands. Maybe it’s Riley throwing a tea party for her sizable plushie collection – you can never remember all their names like Dad can, or do the voices right. Whitney’s, beaming of course - once he gets started, there’s not much that can stop him.

But as extensive as the collection of snapshots is, you know it barely scratches the surface of what goes on at home. For instance, there’s probably no photos of Whitney tending Riley’s grazes after she fell off her first bike last spring – you still remember the pep-talk he gave her, because she parrots it back to you all the time. There’s probably no video of Whitney reading the Gruffalo for the 7th time in a row, just to soothe his feverish girl back to sleep after a nightmare. You’re pretty certain there’s no picture of him anxiously fiddling with his keys all day, just in case Riley needed picking up early from her first day of preschool. She didn’t.

“She has her dad’s eyes, then,” River turns to you, appealing for a little help getting the meeting back on track. Whitney’s far too engrossed to notice the teacher’s growing indifference – it’s a little funny. Who wouldn’t want to see all the awesome stuff his kid gets up to? Just look at her, she’s the best.

Anyone with half a brain could see that Riley had inherited most of her looks from Dad – those striking blue eyes were probably the best evidence. Her hair was beginning to darken now, as blonde hair often does as children reach Riley’s age. You’d not seen many photos of Whitney as a kid, but the few you had seen made it clear that the resemblance was spooky.

“Yeah,” Whitney beams, running a hand through his hair. “Not just my eyes, though. Same nose too, right River?” He’s gushing, in his element - full Dad-flow. In that moment, anyone in could be forgiven for thinking fatherhood is something Whitney always saw for himself. It’s pretty special.

After humouring a couple more photos, River politely slides the phone back across the desk. On screen, your daughter grins back – a smattering of freckles kiss the bridge of her nose, just beneath her sparkly purple sunglasses and a big straw hat. Whitney must have taken this one at the beach last summer.

River’s nodding briskly as Whitney finally pockets his phone. He looks relieved. You chat a little longer about the academics, with the teacher guiding conversation. You hear about Riley’s class, and who her teacher is likely to be. And you notice you’re… kinda rocking it. For a moment you wonder why you’d ever felt so nervous.

“What about… socially? Any issues?” River queries, tenting their fingers curiously.

It’s an innocent enough question, of course – exactly the sort of thing they’d asked at Riley’s pre-school. And it’s easy to answer honestly, because you couldn’t have been blessed with a more perfect kid.

You tell River everything – how Riley could find friends in an empty room, and how she always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. From dance class on Monday, through to football training on Sunday morning… she’s a total ray of sunshine.

“Okay, let me rephrase…” It’s clear that River is considering their next words carefully. “Any… behavioural problems we should know about?”

Subtext hangs like a foul smell. Ah, there it is - judgement. You were no stranger to it as young parents – but you hadn’t been prepared for it to take this particular form. River wants your crystal-clear assurance. Can you blame them for asking?

What they want to ask is this - is your daughter going to cause us any trouble?

Whitney’s quick to respond like a whip. “No, she’s great. Like, the greatest kid ever… Everyone just loves her as soon as they meet her, y’know?” You sense his guard rising. The quiver in his voice is subtle; River won’t have noticed. Later, you wonder if it hurt Whitney to hear his daughter assessed against on his own misdeeds as a teen.

You offer your own thoughts, trying to diffuse the building tension – it’s probably standard question, after all. “Well, there was a hair-pulling phase, but she grew out of that pretty quick…” you pause, searching your mind for anything else that might be worth mentioning. There really isn’t much. “She doesn-“

“I get it,” Whitney’s cutting you off. “You want to know she’s a little shit, right? Like me?”

His pointed tone takes River entirely off guard. You grip Whitney’s thigh under the desk, aiming to reassure him. It’s bouncing restlessly.

You’d sensed River’s prejudice too, of course… but despite the past, it’s not exactly fair. Riley’s 4. A familiar pallor plasters the teacher’s face as they stutter and backtrack, but Whitney’s on a roll now. He was never going to take any shit from his ex-maths teacher – be it real or perceived.

“Don’t worry. My kid’s nothing like me,” Whitney’s indignant, spitting words like venom. “That’s what you’re asking, right?”

Fear of fatherhood isn’t something Whitney discusses. But those feelings have to get bottled up somewhere… occasionally they explode – spitting and hissing like a wounded cat. That’s what’s happening right now in River’s office. Becoming a dad had changed Whitney in many ways… but clearly, his distrust of authority figures still runs pretty deep.

Not that yelling was a common occurrence at home. Whitney so rarely raised his voice, unless in response to some perceived danger or delight. Actually, you were a little envious. How did he manage to stay so chilled out, when you were both exhausted and running on fumes? Riley was far from a bad kid, but she could be stubborn, cheeky and opinionated. No prizes for guessing where she inherited those traits.

You know there’s probably no coming back from this - it’s all gone to shit. Whitney’s risen from the chair, still going.

“Know what?” he shrugs fiercely - gripping your arm, ready to leave. “You don’t deserve my daughter at your shitty school.”

At this point, there might still be some salvaging this – it’s a good school, after all. A grovelling phone call, or a heartfelt email detailing the stress you’re under. Maybe River will understand. Parenthood’s not easy, after all – and it’s not like either of you have much family support. It’s hard – and you’re sure lots of parents snap from time to time.

As Whitney pulls you away from the office, he leans back through the doorway, fixing his ex-teacher with a final sour assessment.

“Fuck you, you old cunt.”

Yeah, maybe there’s no fixing this after all.

You’re dragged down the corridor, past the stricken face of the receptionist… and the phone’s still ringing as you’re yanked through double doors into the crisp afternoon air.

When you reach the school gates, Whitney huffs deeply and leans against the railings. He’s lighting a cigarette, wasting no time in an effort to settle his adrenaline. The weather’s dry, but he hoists the hood of his jacket around his head.

You wait. It’s impossible to know what should be said. Sentence starters flicker through your mind, but none of them taste quite right. You let him smoke in silence for a bit.

“… There’s other schools,” you extend to the stillness. Whitney’s staring anywhere but your direction, waiting for uncomfortable feelings to simmer down enough before he speaks.

“I fucked up,” he mumbles. It’s painfully clear from the tightness in his jaw how much he knows it, too.

Still, he lets you squeeze his hand.

“Yeah, well… I’m proud of you for sticking up for her,” you offer in reply.

“Fuck off,” he scoffs. As he squeezes your hand back, you wonder if he might mean thank you.

You check your phone – there’s 1 new message from Robin. You hastily tap a reply. “They won’t be long.”

Whitney nods. His shoulders fall in a sigh; turned protectively away, avoiding your eyes. You can tell he’s gathering words.

"I mean what I said. Riley’s nothing like me… and I’m fucking glad. Because she’s awesome.”

It stings. It’s hard to see Whitney so insecure after all this time – still unable to see the amazing parent he’s become, and how adored he is. A fucking natural. You were jealous.

“She’s a lot like you, Whit…” It’s easy to list the ways – they’d been staring you in the face for 5 years. “She’s funny, feisty, loving, fearless... Not to mentionsuper clever… people just flock to her… Want me to keep going?”

He hums dismissively – studying the pavement. He takes a long, deep drag of nicotine before speaking.

“I just… I can’t believe she’s not messed up, y’know? Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing…”

Now that feeling was all too familiar. Your hand cluthes his in wordless solidarity.

It’s a while before the right words find your tongue.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

Emotion needles at your throat. Because all too easy to remember a time when you thought he might not do this with you. You remember how scary that felt.

He’s wrapping an arm around your shoulder, squeezing firm enough to knock a little breath from your chest. “Wouldn’t do it with anyone else, idiot…” A kiss brushes your hair. “Get used to it.”

You smile, tucking yourself against Whitney’s chest. Over your shoulder, he’s looking down the street beneath coiling smoke. Waiting.

Sure enough, Riley and Robin round the corner, holding hands. It’s hard to tell exactly, but it looks as though your daughter is carrying a big stick in one hand – joyously tap-tapping it against the railings. Robin waves.

Whitney waves back, extinguishing his cigarette against the ground. He’d grown to appreciate Robin – they were a total godsend. Riley adored them, and the feeling was mutual.

“It’s cool that you two are still close,” Whitney muses. “Might be cool for Riley to have a little brother or sister or something…”

Before you can reply, Riley’s sprinting over – almost like he planned it. Her stick lays discarded on the pavement, and you can see a crown of daisies looped around her head. Little arms outstretched; she’s running over to you both with the biggest grin wrinkling her freckled nose. No, she’s running to Whitney.Of course – Daddy’s girl.

Whitney scoops her up easily, spinning round as she laughs and squeals and snorts with laughter.

“This my new school?” Riley asks breathlessly. You pick a stray daisy from her dark blonde fringe.

She’s tumbled her over in Dad’s arms; dangling, giggling and wriggling.

“Nah, not here," he kisses her squirming cheek. "You’re gonna go to a better school, squirt.”

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fluff #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #dol fanfic #whitney the bully #whitney x reader #dol whitney

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pinkiemachine · 16 hours

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Superman: Origin Story! 🎉

Part one involving what became of Krypton and the rest of the El family will be linked below.

Lara and Cal crash landed together on Earth (specifically, outside of Smallville Kansas) in the summer of 1977 with their escape pod badly damaged, and Lara bleeding out. As luck would have it, a young couple was driving through that part of the country and saw what they thought was a plane of some sort crash land. John Kent jumped out of the car and went to check to see if there were survivors and found a Kryptonian escape pod, steaming and smoking, with a woman and baby inside. Lara could tell that she didn’t have much time. Attempting to speak to John (though, he didn’t understand her language) she asked that he would take care of her son and bring help. Along with Cal, she also gave John a small, hand-held device that he couldn’t figure out the purpose of. Then… she died.

John was left standing there, not knowing what to do for a few seconds. Ultimately, he figured he ought to bury the body out of respect, so he ran back to his wife to give her the baby. By that point, though, there were already dark shapes on the horizon. Martha spotted them. Black helicopters. The Kents got in their car and sped away as quickly as they could, not wanting to get tangled up in whatever conspiracy this was. John didn’t take them back to house that night. Instead, they kept driving until they reached his sister Emma’s house where they would lay low for a while.

Martha was still holding baby Cal and she couldn’t bear to let him go. She had suffered a miscarriage just a week before and immediately fell in love with the boy. There would be no getting rid of him now. They decided to name him Clark, after a word John thought that the woman in the pod had tried to say to him.

After the black helicopters had gone, and after the crashed pod had mysteriously disappeared, John and Martha went back home and continued on with life. Naturally, they had a million questions, but answers would be very tricky to supply unless they wanted to poke their noses into uncertain places. So they kept to themselves. Clark, meanwhile, was growing up fast and strong. Literally. By the time he was two, he was lifting things he really shouldn’t be able to, running faster than they could keep up with, and falling out trees on purpose (not sustaining any injuries) because it was fun. This was their first inkling that Clark might not be human. (After all, Kryptonians do look a lot like humans.)

I would also like to mention that in this version, Clark has siblings. Yes, a few years after saving Clark, Martha gave birth to another son, Micheal. Then came Sean, then Rueben, and finally Suzie. They all worked together on their father’s farm, though it was kind of an open secret who did most of the work. Clark would out-perform his brothers constantly, and it had become quite the sore spot in the family. But, when the tractor breaks down, who’re you gonna call to get it back to the barn? Probably the superhuman son who can lift it with one hand and fly. They did have a lot of good times as well. They got up to so much stupid stuff…heheh… story for another time.

Clark was told from a young age that he was allowed to use his powers on the farm, but nowhere else. Especially not in town. John and Martha were worried the black helicopters might come back. So Clark did his best, but rumours still abounded. Some of the other kids in his class at school even called him an “alien” because of how weird he acted sometimes. Naturally, he had been told his origins by this point. When he was six, his parents sat him down and explained about the pod and his mother and John gave him the small device that Lara had given him. The moment Clark touched it, it activated. It was a holo-photo projector, and it displayed a portrait of the El family, baby Clark included. This was proof that Clark was from the stars, and from that moment onward, he became obsessed with outer space. By the time he was in middle school, he had star maps and rocket posters pinned up in his room, he tracked down every scrap of alien news and conspiracy theories that he could find, and tried to send out radio signals into deep space with his own dinky, homemade system in the family tree house. He loved his adoptive family, he did, but he also wanted to know what had happened to the rest of his birth family. Were they out there? Did they know where he was? That he was alive? He had so many questions!

Alas, time flew by, and no answers appeared. He had a falling out with one of his brothers (involving Clark losing control and accidentally hurting one of the family dogs with his laser vision) and after high school he left to get a degree in investigative journalism, later taking a job at the Daily Planet in Metropolis. He still talked to his brothers and sister and Ma and Pa, but he felt alienated. He didn’t really belong anywhere. That’s why this job was so important. He would scour the ends of the Earth to find answers.

Little did he know, though, that the escape pod and Lara’s body had been taken by the government and were being experimented on. Head of the classified project currently: Amanda Waller. Most invested investor: Lex Luthor.

Part one here 👇

#dc #dc comics #superman #fan fiction #head canon

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its-chelisey-stuff · 15 hours

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My final thoughts on Lovely Runner!

Things I loved about this ending:

No more time travelling. I was SO SURE we were going to go back in time one more time and had been bracing myself for it. And after seeing all these theories online, I really thought the one who was gonna go back in time was Sunjae. Beyond glad I was wrong about this. I was kinda dizzy with all these travels in time.

The way Sunjae got all of his memories from all the timelines back. I know it's technically the same person but the fact that the Sunjae we first met in the drama was fed up with everything and full of guilt always made me sad. That man needed a happy ending more than any of his "versions" lol I'm happy he got that and knew he was loved and saved, time and time again, by the girl he loved.

One hour of fluff! I'm so used to dramas pulling one last annoying twist in the final hour, that I'm pleasantly surprised it wasn't the case here. We got one hour of our leads being happy and in love. The romcom was romcom-ing till the last minute.

Taesung is officially the best second male lead in the history of kdramas. I don't accept any arguments. It's the truth. His character served a purpose and was key to ending that ill fate otp had with the psycho killer. He had the brain cells when our leads didn't lol And I love the fact that his friendship with Sol put him on the right path in life to become such a great detective and person. In a way, just like Sunjae, Sol's love for him, also saved his life.

Having said all this, and stating that this is gonna be a hard drama to top, I stand by the fact that romcoms in kdramas should be 12 episodes. Up until last year, some had been done that way and I don't know if this is somehow a controversial take to have, but I do believe this drama wasn't the exception *hides underneath the table*

Listen, I don't think it "dragged" because a lot of things were indeed happening, but my obsession for the story peaked at ep 8. If we never got a reason or backstory for the killer (which I don't hate but still why bring him in the first place? lol) we didn't need to expand the story another 8 eps. What we got instead, was more pain and trauma inflicted on the main leads, especially on Sol. Just to... what? Get even with Sunjae's love and own regrets?

Getting even with him and showing she loved him just as much, for me, was Sol going back in time to save him. I didn't need a "sacrifice" on her part to know that.

They were so cute this ep lol

Finally, I guess it's kind of poetic that Sol became devoted to Sunjae to the point of traveling time and space to save him, because of his songs, and once that purpose was served, he no longer had to be a singer in the new timeline. His love was why he wrote and made those songs. When he had no memories of Sol, there was no reason to longingly sing for her, but I still found it a bit sad. Like something was lost, you know? But this is me just being picky hahahah the fangirl in me will never like to lose the memories I have made thanks to the music I've loved.

And I guess in the end, it's kind of romantic only Sol and Sunjae remember those songs. Like a little souvenir between the two of how epic their love story was.

lol always a loser till the end.

#lovely runner #kim hye yoon #byeon woo seok #song geon hee #i did like that sunjae was bit upset at sol when he got his memories back #it didn't last but at least he got to tell her she had not right #in a way hahaha

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lokiondisneyplus · 1 day

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Sophia Di Marto [sic] knows why the Marvel Studios breakout series “Loki” was so successful creatively. It was partially due to the casting. Much of it was in the writing and the direction, but mostly, it was about the dynamic between the title character, played by Tom Hiddleston, and Loki’s multiverse doppelganger, Sylvie, portrayed by Di Marto herself.

“Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way,” Di Marto says. “They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.”

Over the course of our conversation centered on season two, Di Marto reflects on whether Sylvie found peace at the end of season two, how the stunt choreography keeps her in shape, what new directors Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead brought to the series, and much, much more.

____

The Playlist: First of all, I have to tell you, that even though it aired last fall, “Loki “is still one of my favorite programs from the past 12 months. I just thought it was so well done.

Sophia Di Martino: Thank you.

When you found out you were coming back for season two, did you have an idea already of where Sylvie’s arc was going to go?

No, I had absolutely no idea until I read the script and then I had to read the script like three times because it was quite confusing.

Did Eric Martin, who was the head writer, sort of sit you down and give you a heads up, this is where we’re going, this is how we see her?

I’m trying to remember exactly what happened. If anyone sat me down, I think Tom might have given me because an executive producer as well, so he’s more involved in the writing and all the behind-the-scenes stuff. I think he may have given me a little headline sort of idea of what the second series was about, but I didn’t really know what would happen until I read the scripts. And then as we’re shooting, it’s changing all the time as well. The main structure is the same, but it’s really a moving beast and a big collaboration. So we’re rewriting it all as we go with Eric.

After reading the initial scripts, did you at least think to yourself, “O.K., we’re going to get to a point at the end of the season where Sylvie is at least at peace?” Or do you think part of her is still out for some sort of revenge”

I dunno if she’s at peace at the end of series two. I don’t think she goes back to Oklahoma. I don’t think she tries to get that peaceful human life again. I think she’s on another adventure, but I dunno. I feel like she just keeps casting an eye over what’s happening with Loki and with Sylvie. I don’t think she’s ever going to be truly at peace. I think she’s a sort of natural-born fighter. I think she’s only ever truly herself when she’s fighting for something. So she’s perhaps gone to look for the next fight.

Do you think that’s the big difference between her and her alternate timeline version of Loki played by Tom? That’s the inherent difference because Loki doesn’t seem to always want to fight.

I don’t think he wants to fight, but he has something within him that’s unfinished and he’s always searching for his glorious purpose. And I think they’re both doing that in slightly different ways.

And I know every member of the media that you’ve spoken to has asked you this in some way, but have you been given any tea about whether Sylvie will continue looking for her glorious purpose down the road?

I have no idea. They’ve told me nothing.

Do you like that in a way?

Yeah, I mean, because if you can just get on with your life until you get a phone call that says you have to be somewhere at a certain point, do something. Yeah, it’s an exciting part of it.

Was there any scene or moment in particular where you were like, “O.K., this is a moment that I’m going to have to dig deep into. This is a tougher scene than maybe I might’ve expected this day”?

The scene that was most interesting to play was that moment in McDonald’s when Loki and Sylvie meet again for the first time. I don’t think there were hardly any lines in that scene. Maybe she says, “Are you going to order something or not?” And it is very sparse the dialogue, but there’s so much unsaid, there’s so much acting going on and they look at each other for the first time. And that was really, really cool to get to play that. It’s bumping into your ex for the first time.

And I’m guessing there is not a lot of rehearsal time correct? It was mostly working it out on the scene on set.

Oh yeah. Yeah. The only rehearsals that we got were some choreo or some fight stuff. Yeah, we didn’t get much rehearsing for the actual dialogue scenes, but I like it that way.

Do you feel like there’s more spontaneity?

For me? Yeah. I like to rely on my intuition and my spontaneity.

Well, I always heard that when you put good actors together should get good results. But this cast in particular had such great chemistry. Even in season one. Do you think that that was just luck? Is it just the talent of the actors?

I think it’s also the characterization. Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s in what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way. They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.

I know you had stunt doubles for a lot of it, but you did do a lot of your own action choreography, correct?

Yeah, yeah. We learn it all and then they sort of swap it and change it when they need to make it look better.

Was it fun? Is that stressful as an actor to have to do that stuff compared to just regular scenes?

I love it. It was a really great opportunity for me. I mean, I was like three months postpartum on the first [season]. It was a great opportunity for me to get fit. I don’t go to the gym. I was the most unfit person when I started, so it really kicked my ass into gear. But I really enjoyed it. And it’s watching the finished product, it just makes you feel like an absolute badass, even though it’s not me. Some of it is not me. It feels great to be a part of it, and it really helps me get into character as well as Sylvie because she’s such a brawler. She loves fighting so much. I’ve realized that I do too. And I’ve carried on. I box a couple of times a week, and I really enjoy the feeling of being able to channel my aggression somewhere. And as a woman, I think it’s quite rare to be able to be given the opportunity to be able to be aggressive and I love it.

At least for season two, do you recall one sequence or set piece that was tougher than any of the others?

There was two of the fighting stuff. I’m trying to remember. The stuff on the Ferris wheel was quite tricky because the space was quite small and there were wires. We were doing wire work, so that was tricky. And a lot of it gets changed last minute. So, you learn the sequence and then they figure out how they’re going to shoot it, and then they realized you can’t do the sequence anymore, so you have to do a different sequence. And so a lot of it is learning choreo on the fly and changing it up and doing something different that works for the camera. So, that was challenging. And I remember I had to throw the TVA guidebook and I couldn’t get it in the right place. Things like that, take ages to try and do. In the first series, there’s a sequence where a knife lands right next to my face, and one of Loki’s daggers stands right next to my face. Little things like that take hours.

youtube

In the final episode, you have a great moment when Loki continues to go back to sort of the workroom area where you guys all keep getting killed again and again. And Sylvie sort of imparts on him one last time about what he needs to do. Do you remember that scene that I’m talking about?

Is it in Key’s workroom or the Key Lime Pie?

It’s the last time that we see that version of Sylvie. The spaghetti is coming to sort of wipe her away. It’s before he goes back and realizes that he has to go into the…

Oh, yeah.

I don’t know if you remember that scene, but it seems like such a rich moment for Sylvie. I was wondering, did those moments at least sit with you at all about how emotional Sylvie’s connection had become with Loki?

Yeah, definitely. And I think she’s the spokesperson in a way for his friendship group. It becomes a real ensemble by the end of series two. It’s not just Sylvie. He’s made quite a few friends and they’ve become almost like a little bit of a team and he’s watching each one of them disappear. And I think Sylvie’s the last one to be turned into spaghetti. And that’s the moment where he realizes he needs to figure out how to control this time slipping so he can change what’s happening because otherwise, he’s going to lose everyone.

The drop-off between season one and season two from Kate Heron to Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead was almost non-existent. They certainly have their own directorial style, but the quality is just so good. Can you talk about what they’re like to work with as directors on set and what you thought they brought to the series?

They are so relaxed at times. I was like, “Why are you so relaxed? It’s making me feel nervous. Why are you so confidently cool and calm?” They just know exactly what they want and what they’re going to do. And they have their own style and they’ve done a bunch of indie films, so they’ve done their time and know how to do it, and they know how to work with each other so well. I dunno if it’s about something to do with being two of them so they can share their stress or something just so chilled out and so open and collaborative and funny and just so easy.

I know you recently wrapped “The Radleys” with Damian Lewis. It’s a horror vampire comedy, right? Can you talk about it at all?

Honestly, I dunno when it’s going to be released, but it’s a vampire movie about a family of vampires trying to live in suburbia and not drink blood.

And it’s funny. It’s hopefully funny.

Hopefully. Yeah.

#sophia di martino #sylvie #loki season 2 #Youtube

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sebadztian · 2 days

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Random ask, what do you love about Sebastian and Ciel's dynamic? What made you ship them? What are your fav SebaCiel moments from the series and your fav headcanon for SebaCiel?

I'm so late into sebaciel fandom, just realized that many sebaciel blog are not active anymore. Imagine my surprise when I found your blog and your fics. Thanks for still being here for newbies like me. Now I'm still reading your fic "The Spare" (and it's so good feels like I'm reading canon divergence au novel version, because all of them are in characters) 😄😁🤩

One of my moot, said to me that Sebastian and Ciel's relationship are like father and son. And tell me please ignore sebaciel shipper if I got into the fandom. Now, after I read the manga and watch the anime, I'm confused of those who hate sebaciel shipper and insist that the relationship is just wholesome platonic (including my dear moot)....

Hope you have a wonderful day, @sebadztian ....

Hello! I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to answer your ask!

First of all, welcome to Sebaciel nation!

What I love about Sebaciel dynamic is their power struggle. On one hand, Ciel is the master, but on the other hand, Sebastian is a powerful centuries old demon. Ciel might be the one holding the leash, but at the end of the day, Sebastian is the one who gets to decide how far he could go. He's a very tricky demon who'd try to find loopholes that benefit him or those that allow him to mess with his little lord (like in BoC with the snakes).

But then that changed. Slowly, but surely, he grows to care for Ciel and now he's finding loopholes that would benefit them. He sees himself as Ciel's butler and whatever he does now is for his master's benefits (and his too, of course). However, despite all that, he still continues to challenge Ciel at every turn. It's that complexity of their relationship that makes me ship them. They're constantly trying to out-power the other, but at the end of the day, they're a team.

Another thing that makes me ship them is because they're the only ones who know each other's true self. Ciel knows who, or rather what Sebastian is, and Sebastian knows who Ciel really is. Everyone else saw him either as the weaker, sick little brother to r!Ciel, or they know him as r!Ciel (because he's inpersonating him), but nobody has truly know him as the boy who has grown into his own person. He's not that weak, sickly boy anymore, nor was he the boy that he's trying to impersonate, and Sebastian is the only one who knows him better than anyone.

Headcanons... Funny you ask... I have two kinds of headcanons. If you've read any of my fics, you'd see that my Sebaciels are mostly fluffy & romantic, with some angst here and there, but when it comes to canon, I don't ever see them kissing, let alone saying 'I love you' or anything of that effect. Of course, I'm hoping to see them kiss in the last panel of the manga, but for them to be all lovey dovey? Eh... I don't think they have it in them...

I have some headcanons, but my one consistent headcanon is that they're soulmates and that Sebastian has finally find his match in Ciel. Even from the start, he's acknowledged that.

My favourite Sebaciel moments... BoM might be my favourite arc, but I really love Germany. From how worried Sebastian is about Ciel that he's willing to lower himself and serve Sieglinde, to how devastated he is that Ciel keeps rejecting him, and then he tries to eat Ciel and Ciel chooses him, and how relieved Sebastian looks afterwards, and of course, the part when he admits that he enjoys playing Ciel's butler. And then I love what happens after, ehen they're just hanging out in Ciel's room and teasing each other. This arc is the turning point of their relationship, or at least, these moments are when Sebastian shows us (the readers) that he has changed.

Thank you for your ask!

#sebaciel #q&a

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 19 hours

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Teaching Evasive Maneuvers

Previous =-= Next

Author's note: More of Symith in mermay.

Summary: Symith and his younger brothers and cousins are patrolling, he spots a new arrival coming in. Realizes it's a Custodes and teaches rapid evasive maneuvers and gets them all back to base before the Custodes makes a splash.

Warnings: ... Let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Symith is with the same mixed squad of Ultramarines and Space Wolves, all of them younger than him by decades, how they got here, was usually due to battle- and the strange twist of circumstances that had them from one breath to another There to Here. He's not one to ponder who gets chosen or why, and from what he's heard, even Custodes have been dropped onto Ancient Terra, not many, Thank the All-father, for they are far more dangerous than even the worst of Rampaging Khornate Space Marines.

He's heard the stories of whole pods of Space Marines being torn asunder, Loyalist, Renegade, and Chaos, because the Custodes deemed them unfit for Life, or because they wouldn't listen to the words of the Loyalists, explaining when and where they are. He suspects that they are trying to seek out the much younger version of The Emperor. Which, well- he wonders if they'll find him or not. He wonders if them being here will effect the time line, or if they are now in a new timeline, or if this will just be a temporary thing and won't actually affect things at all. Or- one of the younger space marines swims over to him with a concerned frown.

"You're bleeding from the nose," The young Apothecary with them says in concern, "Did you hit your head or something?"

"Ah- just got a wicked headache," He says waving the youngster off.

He had been... thinking about- oh, bad nope, not going to try going to think or poke at what is for Witches and Rune Priests to deal with. He's good at teaching and protecting and fighting, among other things. Such navel gazing and thoughts of philosophy and causality and other fancy-smancy nerd shit is for those of a higher intelligence than him. He allows the young Apothecary fuss over him as the Warp wipes away his thoughts on things that he should really not try to think too hard about. It just is.

"You didn't have to fuss so much," He says with a mild grumble

As they continue to patrol this area of the seas, on Ancient Terra, there had been some Excitement, some Idiot Chaos Psyker had tried to do some Great Working and it had twisted and gone wrong, and potentially really cursed an underwater cave system nearby.

Exactly where, he's not been told, mostly so he doesn't go poke at it with his bolter and get bitten by something Nasty. Also, another thing, there was some rumblings about a Nurglite Infestation that had nearly destroyed a Coral Reef ecosystem, that too, was being handled by those who are qualified to handle it. He had his squad are to try and see if they can find other Strange Things that might be happening, or Chaos Bastards who aren't where they are supposed to be.

Also, he's unsurprised that the Chaos Marines are Up To Shit, and Causing Problems On Purpose for everyone else. It's what they do, they are, after all, Chaos Marines. He has Opinions on this 'armistice' between the two sides, especially since he knows that certain factions within the Chaos Marine pods and shoals aren't doing their part of the deal as well as they should. The larger Chaos Marine Pods would claim that it was smaller shoals that aren't a part of the Alliance that lies at fault, but he's got his doubts on that. Even odds on whether it's true or not. He swims to the surface and looks up- he'd spotted something glittering and sparkling above him and then swum fast down to where the Scouts are.

"Boys!" He calls sharply.

Gratifyingly they all turn towards him swiftly. "We need to move out of the area- a new Custodes is landing in these waters."

They all seems startled and start to whirl, "Move it lads! I don't want to become shark chum from a raging Custodes having a fit from their arrival. We also need to let the Chapter Masters in the area know so they can decide on the approach. Now- get moving!"

They are all loyalists, but depending on when the Custodes is from, what they were doing, and where they were before coming to Ancient Terra... being Reasonable is Not something that was designed by the Emperor within his Golden Host. So- they are swimming, fast and in the deep and in a circuitous pattern- he's barking out orders to them to help them with evasion and hopefully, staying unnoticed by one of those Stuffy, Uppity bastards who were more likely to kill, than listen to anything anyone said, or pull their weight and bully any and everyone who knows exactly what they are to their advantage, taking more in supplies and resources, and knowledge faster than they usually allowed new arrivals to have.

But such was the Custodes- catering to those bastards whims. New Custodes, are very likely to be Unbonded. Trying to risk sending a message to one of the Bonded Custodes about their newly arrived brother, usually they would deign to speak with their brother and explain things. Which was a better way, in his opinion, let the Bonded Custodes deal with unbonded Custodes and leave them out of it.

He thinks it had worked, none of them are dead without realizing it, and he's not heard the whale song- and booming crooning calls of a Custodes on a hunt, when they decided to be noisy. Informing the Captain in deck of what was going on had been fun, but since he's done his job, and now that problem is so far above his paygrade it isn't funny. He grabs his squad of Scouts and tucks them into one of the shared nests to make sure they are all safe, alright, and most importantly, do not be stupid and try to catch a glimpse of a Custodes. His boys are safest where he can see them, scruffing the Apothecary and tucking him into the middle of the group.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #mermay #mermay 2024 #mermay 40K #poor unfortunate souls #poor unfortunate souls au #oc: Symith

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zehiiro · 22 hours

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What Daryl and Carol mean to each other

And why France may have been the best thing for Caryl

This idea has been sitting in my drafts for about six months, but now that we're only 9 days away from the Tribeca premiere, I finally decided to flesh it out and post it.

This post can be taken as part two of my previous one on what Carol means to Daryl [here], but it can also be read independently. And just as a disclaimer, this is just my understanding and opinions on Caryl and all the scenes I mention below. So grab a nice cup of your choice beverage and get comfy 'cause I had a lot to say, and this turned out to be a long one.

I want to start by pointing out some moments where Daryl and Carol got to enjoy each other's company and talk in peace.

Yup, that's all of them... a long list of 4...

I didn't realise how rare these moments were until I started looking through season after season. Don't get me wrong; I know there are countless sweet and meaningful moments that they've shared both on screen and off screen (implied), but very few that we've seen without heartbreak, grief, or danger looming over them. And even the moments in the gifs above were still sandwiched between disasters.

I've read and received many questions, such as, "Why have we had to wait all these years and are having to continue to wait for Caryl to be canon?" and "If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now." and I feel like the above gifs answer all of that.

These two have endured unimaginable pain before and after the outbreak, and throughout it all, they have been each other's light, held each other together, helped each other heal from their past, and become the strongest versions of themselves.

However, they have never been allowed to be selfish, to take a moment to think about what they deserve, or to imagine the possibility of accepting the love they want and need; why? Because they have been so busy protecting and making sacrifices for everyone else.

For the past 13 years, they have been content as long as they have each other in their lives, accepting their current circumstances as long as the other seems happy. But during all that time, they also connected in more ways than they had realised.

The major connection I wanted to point out is that their lives depend on one another now (mutually inclusive). Whether knowingly or unknowingly, they are alive at this moment because of each other. I don't mean this just in a 'save their life when they're in danger' way but also as a 'I can't imagine my life existing beyond yours' and 'I can't distinguish between my life and yours' kind of way.

I briefly touched on this in one of my previous posts about Carol [here], and the show, in general, has been a lot more open with us regarding what Carol wants, but here are a couple of more nuanced instances from the later seasons where we see those feelings show from Daryl and Carol's perspectives:

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP3 Ghosts (Daryl)

The first scene I wanted to mentions is when Alpha confronts them about crossing her border. The moment she says, "You have to be punished," and the whisperers reach for their weapons, we see Daryl shifting on his feet as he prepares to move at a moment's notice.

And as soon as Carol talks back to Alpha, calling her words "Bullshit", Daryl is already moving.

He immediately places himself between them to shield Carol in case Alpha decides to attack her.

Then, when Carol snaps and tries to shoot Alpha, Daryl grabs and takes complete hold of her.

He's not just trying to stop her; he's using himself to shield every inch of her from any possible incoming assault from the whisperers.

Once Alpha allows them to leave, he grabs Carol and her bow and arrows without a second of hesitation (leaving behind his own crossbow) and immediately moves Carol away from the situation.

Once again, when everyone is in danger all Daryl can think about is Carol, making sure she's safe and unharmed, with no concern for himself.

I also think it's so beautiful and important to point out here that while all Daryl could think about was shielding Carol, Michonne was also there trying to protect both of them ♡

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP3 Ghosts (Daryl) - Part 2

The second one I want to mention is later in the same episode when Daryl and Michonne rush Carol back to Alexandria/Siddiq for help after she cuts her arm open badly.

We first find Daryl holding onto a column outside to steady himself while he waits to find out if she's okay.

When Siddiq comes out full of hesitation and can't find the words to answer Michone when she asks if Carol is okay, we see a look of pure fear on Daryl's face.

He freezes; he's holding his breath and won't dare move or say anything because he feels like his whole reality is hanging by a thread, and in the moment, the smallest thing or whatever Siddiq is about to say next might make it all fall apart.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP9 Squeeze (Daryl)

The third moment I wanted to mention is when Carol is hanging off the edge of a rock in the cave, risking her life just so she can try to destroy part of Alpha's horde, but Daryl finds her and is so confused and terrified by what she's doing.

He tries to tell her, to warn her that she's gonna get herself killed if she tries to go through with what she's planning.

Look at how he flinches and instantly loses his breath when her hand slips a little... breaks my heart every time.

When she responds to him by saying, "She killed my boy", Daryl's fear is now also combined with desperation because he realised that he didn't need to warn her about the possibility of getting herself killed; he realised she knew the risk all along and was in such a low place that she was almost welcoming the consequences.

What previously was a tone of alarm in Daryl's voice turns into a whisper, and he's now pleading with her. Without saying the actual words, he's begging her to choose to live again, even if it's just for him.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP14 Look at the Flowers (Carol)

What Caryl wants is also kind of answered in 10x14, where Carol is having an internal confrontation with herself. Subconsciously, she has chosen and manifested Alpha (who is now dead) as the face and voice of the one confronting her.

Timestamp 19:10 - 20:15

When "Alpha" says to her:

"Being out on your own... you've tried it before. They always pull you back. Always wanting more. Love. Motherhood. Death. But they don't know what you truly want. Admit it. What do you want? Say it..."

Carol responded by saying :

"I want to be alone."

To which "Alpha" says:

"Yeah. That's not it."

So the question here is, if it's not love in general, motherhood, death, or being left alone, then what does Carol actually want?

It's important here to note that Carol already knows the answer to that question. She's only asking herself this question because she hasn't accepted it; she isn't being honest with herself yet.

Timestamp 33:15 - 35:20

While Carol is stuck under the rubble and can't get out as the walker is getting closer to her, "Alpha" taunts her by saying:

"Stop fighting. No matter what you do, you lose people. Sophia, Lizzie, Mika, Henry, Ezekiel... And if you go back, Daryl could be next."

To which Carol responds:

"I could never let that happen."

This internal confrontation with herself and the realization that even when everything else in her world is dark, just having Daryl and making sure he's okay is worth living for and fighting for and that it's not too late for her to start over. The acceptance that that's who/what she truly wants gives her the strength at that moment to fight again, dislocating her shoulder to get free and killing the walker that was about to reach her.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP16 A Certain Doom (Daryl)

Looking back at 10x01 for a second, Carol asks Daryl to run away with her, but he says no and explains that life in tiny boat cabins is not for him. Then Carol presents the idea of running away on his bike instead, and he's much more enticed by his idea; however, by the end of the episode, they both agree that they can't because they still feel responsible for the people around them and making sure that they're safe against the threat from Alpha.

Back to 10x16, after Carol went to lead the horde off the cliff, Daryl would have almost been expecting and terrified that she wouldn't come back, that she'd take this "out" and end her own pain in a permanent and self-sacrificial way like she's tried before, but this time, he wouldn't be there to beg her to come back to him and to save her.

Once again, we find him leaning and steadying himself against a tree, preparing for the worst possible news or, as the episode's title suggests, a certain doom.

And when he sees her again, he can't take his eyes off her.

He doesn't believe his eyes at first; he looks all over her to make sure she's not hurt, but when she speaks, asking him if he's good, he finally breathes again, letting out the breath he's been holding.

The community is safe (for now) since the horde has been dealt with, and his next immediate thought is, "You still got me" and "New Mexico is still out there." He immediately brings back the idea of running away together; why? Because he now knows that this time he got way too close to losing her forever and will not be risking that ever again. He's now ready to leave everything and everyone else he cares about behind, so he'll never risk losing her again.

He loves her so much that, once again, all else comes second.

When he hugs her, he pulls her in tighter than ever before, making sure he's holding onto as much of her as possible because he needs to know that this is real, that he's actually holding her, that she's right there, unharmed and breathing, and not just a part of a dream of what he wants to see.

I believe he forgives everything in that instant, including her actions that led to losing Connie, because his pain is not worth causing her any more of it. He will now carry that guilt for himself, taking as much of her burden as possible just to make living a little easier for her. Because he'd rather shoulder all the pain and guilt than lose her, and because he can live with the pain and guilt, but he can't live without her.

~~~~~~~~

S11 EP24 Rest in Peace (Daryl & Carol)

I believe the events of the season 11 finale forced them to come to a new level of internal acceptance. Seeing the people around them lose the ones they love the most started a spark, and it started to force them to have those internal conversations.

The reality began to sink in for both of them that there had been too many close calls to keep denying themselves what they truly wanted, and It's now more true to them than ever that their tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

We all expected this to be the moment they went for what they'd wanted for so long, but we were wrong; their wounds were just too deep, and their instinct to self-sacrifice was once again too strong.

A year later, we see them once again dedicating their lives to helping others, Carol taking over Hornsby's job and helping put the commonwealth back together, and Daryl setting out to see what's left out there, hoping to find Rick and Michonne and bring them back to their family.

~~~~~~~~

TOWL S01 EP04 What We (Daryl & Carol) - A Parallel

There's a pretty important parallel that I'd like to point out as well. In episode 4 of TOWL, when Micheonne asks Rick what the CRM took from him, Rick responds to her by saying:

"When I got taken, I fought, and I fought, and not just by trying to get away, but by how I would dream. I'd meet up with Carl in my dreams. And that's how I survived in here. Kept me alive... But then I started dreaming of you [Michonne]... and it kept me going... I can't live without you. Without you, I die."

It's important here to note that Rick is speaking to his wife. When he was taken away and at his lowest, he survived because when he went to sleep, he dreamed about Carl (his son) and Michonne (his soulmate) and his happy memories with them.

So what does Daryl dream about when he's taken away and at his lowest? (TWD:DD S01 EP01)

He dreams about Judith (his surrogate daughter) and Carol (his soulmate).

He dreams about Judith telling him that he deserves a happy ending too, and his very next thought is of Carol, seeing her again and being with her again because that's the happy ending he truly wants.

And what does Carol dream about when she's at her lowest in season 10?

She dreams about Henry (her adoptive son) and Daryl (her soulmate)

She dreams about the life she's always wanted, a home, a family and a life with Daryl because that's the happy ending she truly wants.

Also, just a quick mention that even Michonne refers to Rick (her husband) as her friend when speaking to Virgil in TWD 10x08 (TS: 40:00 - 41:20)

~~~~~~~~

So why is TBOC going to be any different? And why was Daryl ending up in France the best thing that could have happened for Caryl?

Because they have finally reached a point where they almost believe they've lost the other, they have been forced to feel the dependence of their existence on the others.

They have never been truly separated before, not to this extent. And what to them was previously only a fear has now become a reality.

When they're reunited, it's going to be with a completely new perspective and total understanding of the extent of their need for one another, and the idea of just having one another in each other's lives will no longer even remotely come close to being sufficient.

I'll elaborate a little...

After all these years, we've seen them constantly save one another and be terrified of losing each other. But no matter what, nothing got them to the point where they felt they needed (more than anything) to confess to the other. So far, everything they have faced during the main show has been different shades of the same thing, and the urgency was never high enough to outweigh their self-doubt and insecurities.

What France has given us is a whole new level of steaks. Where we'll find them in season 2 is on the verge of believing that they'll never be able to see each other again; this, coupled with the fact that they don't even know if the other is even alive, and the fact that the distance and time apart has given them a true taste of how much they need the other, we now have the perfect and unique recipe for something that outweighs their self-doubts and insecurities.

It's the age-old idea of you don't know what you have until it's gone. The difference between:

Watching everyone around them lose the people they love most: they empathise with them, their heart breaks for them, they may even be devastated by that loss, and ultimately, it probably makes them cherish the ones they still have even more.

They, themselves, losing the person they love most: this is something that needs to be experienced to be understood. It's reality shifting, and the pain/loss outweighs anything else.

And now, after experiencing that loss for themselves, by some miracle, they're given another chance with that person... what a way to completely shift someone's priorities and ability to act past insecurities.

~~~~~~~~

To wrap up I wanna go back to Norman's words from the NYCC TBOC press conference:

"[Carol] feels something's wrong. They have that kind of bond, where there's a lot of unspoken things that are said... the bonds that we made in the flagship show are still very strong... [Carol] can take care of herself, of course... but the bond just keeps getting stronger and stronger..."

And David Zabel's words from his interview with Entertainment Weekly (interview link):

"The main focus of season 2 for me was always Daryl and Carol coming back together and what does that mean? And it becomes ultimately a story about how we as people can save each other. She's trying to find him, but in the process of telling that story: How are they ultimately getting to a place where they're kind of saving each other?...showing what's happening inside these characters as people in the most intimate personal way"

Daryl and Carol have loved and cared for each other so profoundly, especially when they couldn't love themselves, even to the point of sacrificing their own happiness to prioritise the others. If that is not the true meaning of soulmates, then I don't know what is. And we all know that some of the greatest loves are routed in the truest friendships.

~~~~~~~~

Thank you to everyone who read through this! I know it was an extra long one, and it could have been even longer, but I've decided to post their moments from 10C separately, as there's a lot more to break down there. I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm so happy/grateful that I have this platform to share these thoughts with you all. I'd love to know your thoughts on the things I've mentioned or missed ♡♡♡

As some of you already know, I'll be attending the Tribeca Premiere for TBOC in 9 days. After that, I'd like to write and share a spoiler-free-ish afterthought for this post, including what I've taken away from episode 1, what was said during the cast panel afterwards, and my thoughts on what's to come for Caryl. If anyone would like to be tagged when that's posted, please let me know.

I'll be posting a more detailed and spoilery analysis of Episode 1 once it's actually released.

#daryl dixon #carol peletier #caryl #the book of carol #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #my gifs #caryl positivity #CarylArchives

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xxcrystalinerose · 2 days

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In celebration of me officially reaching 100 HOURS of fucking around in Hades 2, here's a couple of general gameplay tips from yours truly!

Preface

I am not the best Hades gamer out there, but I'd like to think I'm doing pretty good considering my still-standing 25+ win streak in the Underworld and 16 Fear clear on all weapon types, so this tip is meant for you guys who find Hades 2 weirdly difficult compared to the first game (I've been there!), or those who still haven't figured out good build and aspect combos. However, I will not be doing a deep dive of all the bosses except for the final bosses!

Obviously, spoilers abound under the cut, so tread with caution!!

Part 1: General Questions, Comments, Complaints, etc.

Q: Playing Melinoë is so difficult compared to Zagreus!

A: First of all, you are playing Melinoë, not Zagreus. Second of all, you are playing Lv. 1 Mel after being so used to Lv. 100 Zag (if you've spent an unreasonable amount of time playing Hades 1 like I did). These two have different playstyles! I myself am guilty of this mindset in my first 20 hours of gameplay.

Mel is all about using everything in your disposal to dispatch enemies. Additionally, the devs have designed the kit in such a way that none of your moves are an afterthought that you occasionally use every other room. The biggest example of this is Cast, which remains useful as a crowd control (CC) move even without a Boon attached to it. Use your Cast all the time!

Additionally, in case you haven't realized it, you can still move while charging your Omega Cast; however, the AoE will not follow you unless you have Local Climate (Demeter).

Don't forget that you can hold down Dash to Sprint. Lock enemies in place with Cast then sprint away if you need breathing room. However, do remember that you do not have i-frames while sprinting, only when dashing.

I have to concede that as of the current EA patch, dashing to dodge attacks still feels janky without the Swift Runner card, mostly because of the dash start-up animation being slightly but noticeably slower than Zag's dashes. However, after several runs with the Judgment card (where I can't activate Swift Runner, and that it might not activate further in the run), the rhythm of dashing with and without it is just muscle memory now. Keep practicing!

Q: Melinoë feels so squishy/slow/weak/etc.!

A: Hades 2 does feel much more Early Game Hellish™ than Hades 1, which imo is mostly because of the Arcana system's complexities.

You need various resources to unlock an Arcana, then you need sufficient Grasp to actually use the Arcana, THEN some Arcana have prerequisites for activation so you can't just use anything and everything you want. Very unlike H1, where you can just dump exactly one resource type into levelling the Mirror upgrades and the only true constraint is choosing one side of the Mirror over the other.

To mitigate the squishiness, Frinos with a fully upgraded Life Bond gives you a free 40 base HP. I prefer him over Toula because I fucking suck at bullet hells and Frinos eats up all those projectiles without flinching too much, and some enemies are really fucking annoying with their projectile attacks. Looking at you, hourglass thingies in Tartarus.

Another thing to note is that The Wayward Son card is a buffed version of Zag's health regen on room exit. At max level it heals 4 HP (8 if you're low), which also makes Chaos gate health drains trivial in Erebus and Oceanus, so go grab those Chaos boons.

If you think surviving against Chronos/Eris is difficult, try having at least 200-220 HP (adjust depending on Fear settings) before entering the fight. The Centaur and Titan cards are useful to achieve this. If you run a Hephaestus build, the Boon that adds HP based on Magick is also great!

Q: The Bosses in Hades 2 are more difficult... please help!

A: I see this observation often, but in my experience, the H2 bosses bar Chronos and Eris are actually significantly easier than the H1 bosses. Your experience gap between dealing with H1 and H2 bosses could also contribute. But anyways, here's some tips for each boss:

Hecate

The transformation Hex counts as a projectile and can be blocked by Frinos. If you haven't unlocked Frinos, simply dash back and forth into the hex (essentially abusing your dash i-frame) and it will eventually dissipate. Don't try to outrun it.

(Frinos ate the hex before I could fully demonstrate the dodging lol)

If you DO get transformed, dash and attack repeatedly to prevent Hecate's attacks from hitting you, because your attack in sheep form is a charge forward that helps add extra distance while waiting for the dash cooldown to end.

Scylla and the Sirens

They killed me an unreasonable amount of times early game because there's so damn much going on the screen, so my tip for that is kill the drummer first. The guitarist's arsenal is much less dangerous and her dash attack is heavily telegraphed. Even if the guitarist is the featured artist, I would still kill the drummer first. Additionally, the Night Bloom Hex* works in this fight. Have fun!

Infernal Beast

Mostly immobile boss that can't really turn around with heavily telegraphed attacks, so the easiest trick is to just stand behind it for free backstab damage and don't get hit. Paired with the massive hitbox, the boss becomes very vulnerable against Apollo/Zeus cast and Omega specials with Pan aspect on the Sister Blades.

Polyphemus

Sometimes he has sheep in the fight; if he eats them he gets healed. Gold sheep will block Omega moves in the radius indicated around them, while black sheep will charge at you. I find his most difficult attack is the boulder slam if he spots you. When he leaps, sprint away first for some distance, then dash into the shockwaves because they move FAST and staying near will guarantee you get hit.

Eris

All of her attacks count as projectiles, so Hestia's Soot Sprint turns the fight into a total joke. She also turns relatively slowly when firing; when she does the spread shots, stay directly behind her. The forward charge is also telegraphed by an animation where she rises a bit before charging, so dash towards Eris to avoid getting hit (because it also stuns you).

Chronos, in general

God I hate that bitch ass scythe throw attack SO MUCH. I find the most reliable way to dodge it is to dodge towards Chronos but in a counterclockwise direction because it always travels clockwise. DO NOT DODGE AWAY FROM HIM.

The thrown scythe counts as a projectile, so projectile slowing effects like Demeter's Cyclone debuff or Hard Target (Hermes) affect its move speed.

Additionally, Chronos himself is immune to any time-slowing effect, including from the Sorceress card, the Phase Shift Hex, and Hermes' legendary Boon. He can still damage you during the time stop in the Hex casting animation.

Lastly, the ring explosions that come after his slashing attacks are unblockable by any "Block" move e.g. Axe special.

Chronos, 2nd phase

He always begins the phase with a full screen attack that does 999 damage unless you stand in the highlighted safe spots... or if you have Coarse Grit (Demeter Infusion) that lets you take no more than 15 damage per hit (lol). The clock hands will also kill you this way, so stand well clear of its radius. When he does this attack he will stand in place, which if you're lucky lets you get a guaranteed Omega Cast or Total Eclipse strike, and even one or two fully charged Pan aspect specials if the "safe spot" is near him.

(* Night Bloom has an unintended interaction with the Judgment arcana that causes its effects to be triggered multiple times in the Scylla fight. I've reported this as a bug, but I guess you could abuse it until the next patch lol)

Q: What is your Arcana setup?

A: This! I find this to be the easiest setup for activating the Divinity card and also the "safest" build, with the drawback of being unable to change room rewards/Boon and Well of Charon offerings.

If I wanted more challenge, I would activate everything in the third row, and use the remaining 3 Grasp for either The Huntress or Death, depending on weapon:

When I do a Judgment arcana run, I only activate The Wayward Son, Eternity, and Excellence; the bonus with Judgment is that it also automatically activates The Queen, and keeps it active no matter how many more cards it activates later.

If you have yet to max out your Grasp and want to play it safe, the cards I recommend to prioritize are Eternity > Excellence > Origination > The Swift Runner/The Sorceress > The Titan > The Furies/The Moon/The Huntress/ > Night/The Unseen.

Extra tip: The Moon synergizes very well with pure damage Omega Casts e.g. Apollo, Zeus, Poseidon because it adds to the base damage. Naturally, this makes Apollo cast busted as hell.

Q: What are your recommended Keepsakes? How do I use them?

A: The ones from Hecate, Odysseus, Nemesis, Moros, and Narcissus. If you're good at not getting hit, Arachne's because it continuously stacks Armor per location as long as you stay above 1 Armor. Recently I've also been messing around with Chaos', which has been fun.

To elaborate:

Silver Wheel (Hecate) lets you regen Magick automatically, which was great for me in very early game until I got the hang of every Gain boon and evaluated which are the best ones. Essentially, it's a good crutch for learning how the game works. However, do note that the Keepsake regen is prioritized over any other Magick regeneration effects.

Knuckle Bones (Odysseus) is also a similarly useful early game crutch if you have difficulty against bosses or need to take a run to analyze their moves (very appropriate). It also gives you all-damage reduction against bosses. And fun fact: bring it to the Polyphemus fight multiple times for some unique interactions!

Evil Eye (Nemesis) is just a straightforward free ~30% universal damage bonus against the last enemy that killed you. Since mine was Chronos... well, let's just say I almost never spend a single DD in his fights ever since.

Engraved Pin (Moros) is functionally a better Stubborn Defiance. Triggering its effect will be prioritized over consuming a Death Defiance, and it works ONCE PER ROOM which is fucking amazing as a learning crutch and in high Fear runs. One of my favorite strategies if 1) my HP falls below the Pin's healing threshold, 2) its effect has not been triggered yet, and 3) I am 100% sure the encounter is about to end, I just die on purpose, kill everything that's left, and get a free heal.

Aromatic Phial (Narcissus) rarifies a random Common boon when you drink from a Fountain, which helps massively in no-Arcana runs or runs without Excellence/Divinity. It could also help if you grabbed Hera's Uncommon Grace but are unable to activate it because you have a Common boon. Lastly, the extra Fountain heal helps with survivability.

On the topic of Keepsakes, I encourage you to use the Olympian Keepsakes, because they now have the ability to increase the rarity of non-Infusion/Duo/Legendary Boons up to a certain rarity threshold and not just help you aim where your current build is going.

Rarification works especially well with Demeter's Rare Crop; one time Heroic Rare Crop managed to rarify my Attack, Special, and Cast somehow and I ended up blazing through Tartarus and Chronos like it was nothing.

End Notes (For Now)

I have some more tips prepared, but I'd like to know before I compile the next one:

Aand that's it for now. If I got something wrong or you know anything relevant to what I've shared above, do tell me in the replies so I can edit!

TL;DR: Don't forget to use Cast, get used to dodging with and without Swift Runner card, grab Chaos boons in early regions, be patient with grinding for upgrades, keep practicing, and have fun :)

#ksaplays #ksa: hades 2 #hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades 2 tips

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