Anonymous - Blog Posts

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

ALSO do you think he would have a favourite anime? my friend said he would like attack on titan but im not sure. i might be biased but i think he'd appreciate evangelion for its artistic value. once again sorry i keep bothering u with the weirdly specific king baldwin questions, i think about him so much :]]

Mmmh I can see why they'd say attack on titan and I actually have to agree with them, he'd probably enjoy it for both the plot and the fight scenes; even gore wouldn't faze him in the slightest, he's seen that stuff in real life both in battlefield and public executions, it's normal to him. Plus it would be funny seeing him spending days trying to analyze Eren's actions and decisions after season 4, like full on studying him like he's gonna be his next opponent or something.

And I also see your point, and I think he'd enjoy watching evangelion to try and understand better what modern people perceive as "art", especially from a country that he didn't even know existed!!

But I must say, I honestly think that his favorite anime would be something from Studio Ghibli. Those movies just have the perfect combination of adventure, poetry and art all in one.

He'd be moved by the tragic depiction of war in movies like Grave of the Firelights, or the touching friendships we both see in Ponyo and Totoro.

I can see Howl's Moving Castle as his favorite though, it would just be able to move him to a spiritual level.

He'd probably love Howl, he might even see some resemblance between him and the character. But (if you happened to be his S/O) he also might see his love story with you as a reversed version of Howl's and Sophie's; he sees himself as ugly and unlovable, while you see the beauty that resides within him.

Plus again, the way it shows how was is just a meaningless form of violence and takes to nothing other than destruction, that would truly resonate with him in my opinion!

this is such a weird question to ask sorry but im asking bc i feel like uve always got the best king baldwin headcanons. anyway, what flavour of chips do you think he would like??? people always joke about giving medieval people doritos or salt and vinegar chips but tbh i think most of them would be able to handle it (king baldwin included). also do you think he would have a favourite soft drink

First of all, thank you so much anon😭💗

This is actually really hard for me because I don't really eat chips that much, I usually go for the more plain ones.

But yeah you're absolutely right, speaking for the nobles of course tho.

I think that when people talk about medieval going into a coma for potato chips I think they think that all of them only ate potatoes or chestnuts all their lives, which is true as long as you speak about poor farmers and such.

Nobles on the other hand were used to a lot of spices, and by that I mean they literally rebuilt trade routes just to get their hands on more ginger and pepper!

So this is the reason why I'd say that lime and pepper would be Baldwin's favorite variety of chips, with salt and vinegar coming second.

But yeah considering that he also grew up in Jerusalem it wouldn't surprise me if he'd be able to handle doritos or any other spicy chips with no great struggles.

But I think he would hate more chemical tasting flavors like cheesy chips or any brightly colored ones with crazy flavors. That would cross the line for him.

For the soft drinks I'm not sure, I don't know if he'd really enjoy the feeling of any fizzy drink. I see him enjoying fruit juices like pear, apple and pomegranate. He'd probably be fascinated by all those fruits he didn't get to taste during his life, too, like oranges and pineapple.

Maybe hot chocolate too, does that count as soft drink? Because I feel like he'd go ballistic to have a sip of that stuff!

About more mainstream drinks like cola or fanta and all that jazz, I really can't see him enjoying any sort of artificial taste, it wouldn't be enjoyable at all.

How would Baldwin act if reader was on her period cause I know in the medieval period they handled menstrual cycles differently?

King Baldwin x reader - period

A/N: Aww that is so sweet! Yes you're right, it was handled quite differently and if you look it up you'd be impressed of how badass women are to have been handling so much stuff for so long with no recognition until recent times!!

Little info as always, painting is "The Deceitfulness of Riches" by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale.

Warning: mentions of blood and period-related pain, plus some historical negligence on women's health and that's it

Okay so, in the Middle Ages period was something every woman knew of, but no one ever really said anything about

Up until very late in the time period, women were considered dirty, impure creatures, guilty of committing the original sin and to relentlessly tempt men with their mere existence

Period had become during these centuries a symbol of women's impurity and less than human nature, so they were taught from a very early age to hide it as best as they could

But do I have to tell you that Baldwin could not believe less to it?

Similar things had been said to him and his leprosy, how it was a curse that had been sent upon him by God himself for his own vanity and greed, that he was an impure man just because of something he couldn't actually control

He wouldn't see the negative conceptions of period, he'd only see your pain and discomfort, and that would be enough to tear his soul in half

He'd come up to you, gently wrapping an arm around your lower waist, unknowingly bringing you a little comfort from his mere body heat, and he'd gently whisper in your ear

"My angel, I know you're fatigued right now. Go back to our chambers and tell me what you need, I'll provide for it all in a second"

You'd try to reject the offer and change subject out of modesty and embarrassment. There's no need for his help, really, you're used to this like any other woman, the last thing he needs to worry about is your own discomfort

He, of course, wouldn't listen and just escort you to your silky bed where he'd almost force you to lay onto

He would ask you if you're too cold, too hot, if you're hungry, what you'd like to eat then, if you're thirsty, if you need company and loving touches or if you'd rather be left alone

Anything you ask for, you'll get in no time

It would probably end up with him lying next to you, gently putting a warm hand on your pelvis while he held a book on the other one, reading out loud so that you could relax and distract from your pain and discomfort

And once you fall asleep and his servants would loudly announce that dinner is ready and waiting, he'd quickly put a finger to his lips, urging them to be quiet as the love of his life is resting

This would go on for as long as you need, whether it's as long as your period lasts or just the first days. Whatever, really

Because, yes, period was considered a punishment for the sins and impurity of all women, but with Baldwin that definition could never resonate, for you're the purest, most perfect creature living in his life, and he sees this monthly occurrence as a divine test to your soul and spirit, a test he'd gladly help you through anytime

What do you think Baldwins fashion sense would be In modern times ?

Ohhh this is an interesting one!

Okay so, it took me a bit to think about it but I'm pretty confident on some points.

First of all, modesty. Not to cover up his body from leprosy, we have the medicine to cure that now so no prob, but his religious nature would probably physically restrain him from even getting close to "immodest" clothing, and by that I mean going around shirtless or lowering his pants to the point where you can see his mf underwear.

I see him as someone who likes to dress simple, not too many meaningless details and accessories, he'd probably fit best in the Dark Academia/old money style.

I'm debating on whether he'd wear a little silver cross necklace, part of me thinks that he actually wouldn't, he might rather keep his religiousness for himself rather than flaunting it around. Hence why he isn't really a fan of those pants with huge crosses, too over the top for him, it loses meaning.

I'm also leaving a few pics of what I think would best represent his style.

Baldwin in his summer era. Although I think he'd also wear shorts if it got too hot, but I haven't found a fit that quite represented my idea

This pic has me weak on my knees because I imagine Baldwin EXACTLY like this. Like, the hair, the strong handsome features,...

AAAAGHHH I'm on my knees for this man.

A look more winter-y. If I had to use a word to describe his style I'd probably simply say "class", because that's exactly what he's all about!

Following the Christian emo anon, there's also Christian metal. I don't know many bands personally but Wytch Hazel comes to mind. They're more heavy metal than any other metal subgenre so they sound closer to hard rock

You guys have no idea how much I'm loving you, making me discover all these amazing musicians😭😭

You know what, I actually see him enjoying Wytch Hazel to an extent.

They've got good lyrics, good musicality and not too many artificial sounds (comparing to trap or techno I mean).

I mean, the fact that music isn't anywhere near to how it sounded 800 years ago is something that a clever mind like Baldwin's wouldn't take too long to understand, and he's open to evolve and open his horizons with it too. But that doesn't mean that he still doesn't enjoy listening to music he can actually relate to.

I don't know how many other bands from this genre are out there but this specific one would be Baldwin-approved!

Also this modern music talk made me think about my answers a bit, and I decided that I must add that more "spicy" or "explicit" songs wouldn't shock him TOO MUCH, since Medieval songs, especially French ones from Provence (where Baldwin's family is from) had a specific romantic genre that was basically nobles talking about their crazy hookups or fantasies about the women they love.

That being said, I was considering softer explicit songs, my boy would probably still get a heart attack if he ever listened to WAP or any song from Ice Spice or Cupcakke.

Lastly, he'd absolutely hate Lil Nas X for his mocking of christianity and all, he wouldn't handle the disrespect I think.

i know you said rock would be on thin ice for king baldwin but consider: do you think he'd like christian emo (flyleaf, relient k)? maybe im biased bc im a huge flyleaf fan but idk i think he'd appreciate it

Omg you made me discover a world! You're right he'd probably enjoy listening to it.

As I mentioned on the original post, it's the content of the lyrics that mostly interests him, and also the factor that decides whether he likes a song or not.

Peaceful, loving themes always win for him, and he'd probably be open to the new kind of melody also because it's not as artificial as other subgenres of rock/metal/goth/...

So yeah anon you two could listen to flyleaf together and it'd be enjoyable for you both!! (can I join too you literally made me fall in love with their music)

How do you think Baldwin would act if he saw the immodest clothing that we consider normal today? Like if he meet reader from the future our times and saw what she was wearing?? I feel like it would be super interesting to see

Mmmmh that's a great question.

I think that on first impact he'd be quite baffled, like that would be considered underwear in Medieval times so you can see why he'd react like that.

Being the gentleman and virtuous man he is, he would opt to avoid the sight himself to not "fall into temptation", but I also see him as gently suggesting you wear something more... modest.

Now, depending on the scenario it could go two ways: either you from the future traveled back to 12th century Jerusalem or he traveled in the future to wherever you live.

In the first case, it'd be quite hard to convince him that what you're wearing is deemed as normal in your times. Well, it would probably be hard to convince him that you're from the future in the first place.

The second scenario would be... quite more shocking for Baldwin, but it would lead to some clarifiacations much much sooner. I mean, you could take him outside for a walk and he'd soon realize that EVERYONE dresses like this now (or at least most people).

And that walk around your town would be so funny to see because Baldwin would be refusing to look anywhere but the ground for a good half hour before you convince him that it's not sinful to just see what other people are wearing!

But I must say, in both scenarios he'd come to terms with the fact that time changes things, and clothes are probably the quickest thing to change since the beginning of time. He wouldn't judge you for what you wear, he'd only get an idea for you based on your personality and your mind. After all, his own condition has taken almost all prejudice he could have based on appearances.

Your so cute omg

Aww thanks!! You're probably way more cuter than me 🥹❤️

I thought the contact name for Hyunjin would be for a totally different reason 💀

Lmao, I didn’t realize it’s double meaning until I read it again 💀

but both works ig 🤭

Sorry you got arrested for a stupid reason but then again poison ivy exists.

- :-(

Look, I’m not even upset about being detained. I’m upset because it wasn’t even an exotic plant. It was an Aloe. If I’m going to be arrested, at least book me for the right reason.

If we were in an a/b/o universe what do you think your secondary gender would be?

First of all, I BEG YOUR MCPARDON? Second of all, love that this is the first ask I’ve ever gotten. Third of all, Beta.

ur artstyles so swag I mean this in the best way possible

Thank you anon❤

literally i am. dyinf.... a boyfriendless existence ess ehm aych

Hey anon, Wanna be the peanut butter to my jelly?? 🫶🏽 /nsrs

(Also, #relatable)

testingggg

*Tae noises*

don't tempt me with a good time i could make it wordier

Do it coward

the grass is green the sky is blue except to me cause i wouldn't know i only see you

4/10 pickup line, the idea is there but the execution is too wordy.

gv.. describe it in one meme and one meme only.

well.. after much consideration between the ‘now im sitting here going half crazy’ vid, lots of trisha paytas and wendy williams clips, i have finally settled on this dead ish meme

the one on the left being ghidorah while the one on the right being ren, i’d say i would animate this but im so slow w drawing one piece i think i’d take a century to finisb an animation

What have ghidorah and ren taught eachother abt life as a titan and life as a human respectively?

considering ren and ghidorahs dynamic in ‘ghidorahs voice’ is very much ‘an enemy of my enemy.. is my friend’ dynamic, ren couldn’t give less of a shit abt ghidorahs worldviews and iirc in the gvk novelization, ren was content w enslaving the remaining titans once godzilla fell, so had ghidorah been there, he prolly wouldve enslaved ghidorah wo batting an eye.

ghidorah has taught ren that his own humanity is holding him back and imprinted several of his worldviews onto ren (the gvk novelization implies ren was further corrupted by his repeated exposure to ghidorahs remnants) hell, ghidorah taught ren not to feel any guilt abt leveling hong kong and indirectly killing 4000 people, rather taught ren to feel ashamed he was caught and could very well end up in prison.

on the other hand, ren has taught ghidorah a big skill— patience. ren, among other things, dealt with walter simmons for over a decade and his resentment towards the world in general built up, ren waited his whole life to get revenge and ghidorah (ni and san more specifically) learned that revenge is a dish best served cold, additionally, ichi and ni pretty much agree w all of rens views on social, political, economical stuff because they havent been introduced to anything else meanwhile san accessed the worldwide web during his brief time as mechagodzilla.

what does san think of his kevin fandom counterpart

(assuming ur talking abt the cougar macdowall and co effect on the fandom)

well.. if san were intelligent, he would take advantage of others having the impression he’s the ‘good ghidorah head’ and lean into it to infiltrate his enemies, but he’s not! king ghidorah (my take, anyways) as a whole has the mindset of good = inferior, so san would feel extreme distaste towards the whole kevin thing, not only does it bruise his ego, but he doesn’t understand why his counterpart is so.. childish? san can’t put his talon on it, but he’s dead certain his counterpart is pathetic, woobified, and it cant possibly be a part of king ghidorah— the devil with three heads who brought the planet to its knees several times, on the other hand, he can’t form a coherent thought when ni is laughing their ass off as if hes been waiting millions of years for san to be the pissed off one meanwhile ni gets a good laugh 💀

what would happen if pim and charlie from smiling friends were hired to make ren smile again

pim and charlie would only be needed in the days leading up to chapter 17 because after that ren is living his best life.. even at the cost of the rest of the world 💀

The Haneda Airport’s terminal buzzed with the serene sound of announcements and the clatter of luggage wheels every now and again. The cherry blossom air fresheners did little to hide the dead scent of jet fuel and stress.

The lilac, energetic, bright-eyed creature bounced on his heels while waving around a tourist pamphlet covered in cartoon Mount Fujis. “Charlie, Charlie, did you know you can rent a café where you just cry with strangers? Japan’s amazing! They even have toilets that sig to you!” Pim exclaimed, however, Charlie was nowhere nearly as impressed. “Yeah, yeah, great. Don’t forget this country also bayoneted pregnant women in Nanking. Try not to fall in love with the scenery too fast..” Charlie grumbled, “Oof, Charlie, you’re really good at killing in the mood. That was almost one hundred years ago.” Pim muttered, “Yeah, well, trauma’s hereditary. So, buckle up, bud.” Charlie deadpanned as a sleek, black car waited on the curbside. High-rise towers glinted in the sun, though none as cold and isolated as the one they were approaching.

A woman— Mira Yamane stood chic and composed, but clearly desperate outside with a tablet, her hair was pinned back in a way that implied she hadn’t slept in days. “You’re the Smiling Friends, right?” Mira affirmed with a raised brow, “That’s us! You want us to help your husband smile? That’s what we do best!” Pim confirmed with a beam, “We also clean up crime scenes, once.. But yeah, smiling.” Charlie cut in, Mira’s eyebrows straightened up while her lips pursed into a thin line, gaze narrowing if anything. “Just.. Do what you can, Ren hasn’t smiled since he tore a Skullcrawler in two.” Mira urged, Pim and Charlie followed her inside the building where their client, Ren Serizawa sat at a table in the dead center of a brutalist room. Everything was made up of cold steel, concrete, and black curtains. Unusually enough, a flatscreen of Monster Zero tearing through Antarctica.

One odd thing to note about Ren was he wore sunglasses indoors, though the pair quickly learned it was not out of an odd fashion choice, but necessity. A dull, hopeless hum followed him like a storm cloud hanging over his head, he was clad in a designer trench coat, whatever was left of his right eye hidden beneath a matte black eyepatch, cigarette burns staining the table. “You’re the clowns she hired?” Ren alleged, turning to meet their gazes. “We’re more like emotional hitmen, she wants us to shoot you full of serotonin or whatever.” Charlie corrected, Ren stared blankly for a moment. “I’ve been electrocuted, shrapnel drilled into my right eyeball, and sued by the Chinese government.” Ren trailed off, listing it off with his fingers. “Not now.” Ren suddenly added, talking to seemingly himself. “Uh, you good?” Charlie dared to ask, exchanging a glance with Pim. “Peachy. Let’s go, I have a meeting with Shindo.” Ren grumbled, he didn’t seem keen on bringing them along but probably figured he could get a refund since he was in no position to lose money with the pending terrorist charges.

Shindo’s law firm was a shrine dedicated solely to ego, wealth, and influence. The walls were adorned with polished mahogany bookshelves, each shelf meticulously arranged with legal tomes and decorative artifacts meant to impress, a framed photo of Shindo shaking hands with a panicking Prime Minister during the Mass Awakening hung like a self-congratulatory obituary. “I personally oversaw the evacuation of the previous Prime Minister’s twin daughters while Yamata No Orochi chased a cruise ship, people call me a national treasure.” Shindo boosted, “Wow! That’s so heroic!” Pim raved, however, Charlie noticed something over Ren’s shoulder and looked nothing short of disturbed. “You know there’s three dragon heads behind Ren, right? Like, whispering stuff? Does nobody else see that?” Charlie pondered, Shindo froze, a rare moment of silence radiating from the egoist. “What..?” Shindo muttered, Pim looked over Ren’s shoulder, making eye contact with the leftmost head. “They’re like.. Kind of shadowy and floaty. They kind of sound like the drag queen from Powerpuff Girls.” Pim noted, “Yeah, and one of ‘em told me I smell like fear. Kinda rude.” Charlie flatly cut in, Shindo squinted at them, then directed his gaze toward Ren, who managed to look just as clueless as Shindo despite knowing good and well.

Rain streaked across the windshield like falling veins, Pim sat shotgun, pressing his face to the window like a kid in a candy store, Charlie lounged in the back beside Ren. “Charlie, did you know the Tokyo Tower was inspired by the Eiffel Tower?” Pim asked, “Your friend is very educated.” Ren deadpanned, the phrase: ‘They are insects, let us feast.’ slipping out of his tongue in a voice that wasn’t his own, Charlie’s eyes widened— almost comically if it weren’t for the situation. “Okay, what the hell was that? Did.. Did your mouth just talk but like, not you?” Charlie pondered, desperately glancing at Pim for help. “That’s.. Normal for me now.” Ren assured.

Once they arrived at Ren’s residence— a modern Japanese home only nepo-babies like himself could afford, surprisingly— Ren had invited them to crowd around a tablet, Dr. Vivienne Graham was onscreen, running for her life, screaming as Ghidorah chomped her into a blur of viscera and broken bones. “She deserved it, you know? Always clinging to my father just because her father died before she was born. She got the pats on the back, the phone calls, I got a ‘she would understand’ after my own mother died.” Ren ranted, the shadows behind him twitching with glee as if they were capitalizing on his anger. “To this day, I don’t know what she had that I didn’t, whatever my father saw in her— he didn’t see in me. I’m sure you all don’t want to hear about the cliche story of the father who forgot about his son,” Ren trailed off, eyes glued to the video like an elderly woman with AI-generated Facebook memes. “Hey, Charlie, He’s doing that anime villain monologue thing!” Pim pointed out, “Yeah, about any second now he’s gonna yell about ‘a world purified by chaos’ or something like that.” Charlie grumbled, Ren cut them off with an actual bark of a laugh. “Oh god.. You’re.. You’re both morons.” Ren muttered, following shared silence between Pim and Charlie. “Wait.. Did he just?” Pim alleged, glancing at Charlie to ensure whatever was floating over Ren didn’t latch onto them as well. “Mission accomplished, I guess?” Charlie mumbled, “I haven’t in.. I don’t even know how long, not since I tore into Skullcrawler number ten, before Mira started buying sage to exorcise me with.” Ren trailed off, and in that moment, he leaned back, head against the wall with the shadows of three dragon heads accelerated against the wall, eye closed beneath his sunglasses.. A smile— crooked and bitter, but genuine spread across his lips.

can u do a milo bellingham smut where he is fucking you while ur asleep then u wake up but he tells you “go back to sleep baby” and you fall asleep to the rocking motion?! like first he gets home late and sees u asleep but hes hella horny so he massages ur clothed clit for a while until ur extremely wet and then he pulls out his cock and fucks u

Yall how we feeling about this causeeee……

I think imma have to do this 😩

Do you do art trades?

I do! Not right at this moment BUT you are free to ask!

*gives you a handful of candies and runs away*

Oh why thank you sir/ma'am!

can you give us a fun fact or two about your oc? (any of your choice) and have a nice day:)

Ok then!

1.she's adventurous✨✨✨

2.she's a ✨BIG SIMP✨ like me

3.she can make portals that leads to your house🙃🙃🙃

And that's all!

I will tell you more next post:P

heyya favorite welcome home au?

My fav Welcome home AU is Reboot wally

Made by:@bloodrediscream

❤️❤️❤️

ive noticed you havent been posting lately so..

Welcome back :)

Yeah that's true because I'm focusing to my studies and I promise I will post soon:)

And I have babysitting jobs to do😅😅

But in my free time I might post something:)

"I couldn't bear to tell the girl I loved that I was only dreaming and that she was merely a figment of my imagination, so I kissed her, and as the world lost its color, I slowly woke up."

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! ♡♡♡

this was such a sweet ask to receive, thank you so much!

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when you the

the when