#i fear for my life in the hands of conformity

[orsinium-scholar]

Orsinium headcanon:

Due to it's remote location and firm extradition laws, Orsinium has become a popular choice for Altmer refugees. Those who survive the perilous trek find the city cold, often frightening to those with no familiarity for Orcs, but ultimately far safer than back in Alinor.

Most of them congregate in the outskirts of Orsinium Minor, in an area called "Little Alinor" or "the golden district". Though many struggle with poverty, a few have thrived by setting up businesses, the more flexible minded elves modifying traditional recipes to Orcish tastes and selling them as street foods. Of particular note is a variety of steamed bun, originally made as a small finger dish filled with sea food, now made large enough to fit in the hand and filled with cabbage and pork, which has become a staple breakfast food for blue collar orcs working stupid long hours and needing a hot breakfast.

However, many Altmer immigrants, whether intentionally or not, avoid interactions with Orcs, and as a result, have a reputation for being snooty at best, or outright suspicious at worst. They are also notorious for being skittish, shy, and particularly distrustful around strange Altmer, who might be Thalmor agents. Those of a more anxious disposition struggle between the fear of other Altmer and the fear of a people they are told are violent and dangerous.

However, the newer generation often adapts well, young flexible minds taking in the culture, making Orcish friends and picking up the language and trends. On the other hand, Altmer countercultures also arise, with some young Altmer clinging to their parents old ways, and looking down their nose at the other "corrupted" youths. Street fights are not uncommon.

Little Alinor is a place caught between two vastly different cultures, being dragged kicking and screaming out of rigid conformity. Though despite the cold stone and Wrothgar weather, it's still a safe home. As Arlith Urayel, purveyor of Arliths Gifts and known dissident to the Third Aldmeri Dominion states: "I live in a place where a single poorly chosen word can get my nose broken, and I am safer than I've ever been my entire life."

[satosktty]

this is how i imagine satoru in any setting; i need to draw him exactly like this... just imaginging 1st year toru being kind of blank faced but still a shithead until they finally get to deal with him and everyone's like 'wow he's just autistic not a dickhead' yeah... my bipolar autistic rep princess..

[kingalpharhys]

WHAT REALLY MAKES AN ALPHA MALE 2024

Joy Reid on MSNBC calling out all these crazy conservative men as beta males pretending to be Alpha men reminds me of some of you on here. Check yourselves, guys, because what you believe to be "Alpha 'tude" is actually beta AF.

Alphas are to lead and protect, not conform and put those around them in serious jeopardy. An Alpha Male does what's right, not just what's convenient. Alpha Males are not selfish men.

The modern conservative party are not Alphas.

You can not be an Alpha Male and back fascism.

You can not be an Alpha Male and oppress those around you—women, minorities, immigrants. It's all of us who make America the superpower it is.

You can not be an Alpha Male and vote Red.

By buying into the lying fear mongering of the American Right, you are buying into your own demise. You think they give a shit about you?

You think their rhetoric doesn't affect you?

They will come for all of us eventually, if given the chance. That's a promise I can make to you— if Donald Trump wins, America as we know it is done for. I know the system really well; that's a real guarantee. Vote Red for America's demise.

Voting is a right, and there's a reason they want to limit that right. The people love this country, and when we all vote, the conservatives lose big.

Voting isn't a right to be fucked with. Take this from a lawyer who gives a shit about all of you. I live my life nonpartisan, but by what's correct.

As a lawyer, I'm being so legitimate with you about this. This is a real threat to democracy.

This isn't a personal attack. It's the truth at hand. I just wanna tell you guys the truth.

I want you all to read this and take it to heart.

Do you wanna use your rights? Or lose them?

Trump says vote for him now, never vote again.

Is that really what you want? This isn't a joke.

This isn't fake news, this is what's at stake here.

Is it worth the internet brownie points to lose it all? Is it worth that sexy cumshot to lose your freedom? Is the big "Redpill" actually worth it?

This is still America, and you have that freedom.

You have every right to make these choices.

You have every right to take these actions.

Remember, your actions have consequences.

Playing around with this shit isn't cool, guys. It's not a game, a fetish, or a fantasy. It's real life.

Do you really think you're an Alpha Male for supporting the abuse of your fellow Americans? Are you rights just a fetish to use and abuse?

Again, this isn't a Tumblr kink. It's American Democracy. This is what our troops fight for.

You know, the troops Donald Trump hates.

For most of you, this should be enough food for though. Some of you, though, need it simplified.

So, if you have to, consider this vote to be the ultimate test of your masculinity. Let's be real:

Be a beta, and vote for Trump. Alphas defend democracy. Alphas vote for this country. Alphas vote blue, mo matter what the misguided say.

Alphas don't give a shit about ignorant opinions.

Alphas don't give a shit about outright bigotry.

Alphas don't give a shit about fetishized abuse.

Alphas give a shit about equality and ethics.

Alphas preserve and protect our Democracy.

Alpha Men vote for Harris-Walz. That's it, guys.

Be an actual Alpha Male and do what's correct.

I'm an Alpha Male, and I don't care who this offends. I'm a Patriot, and I'm voting Blue.

If you're the Alpha you claim to be, you'll do the same. If you're not, let's take this to the polls.

We'll see who's really a Patriot on November 5th.

[velvetvexations]

"Women do traditionally feminine stuff because they are afraid of the men in their lives." Hilarious, because for me growing up all of the worst misogyny I faced was at the hands of other women, usually family and friends, and whenever I caved into the pressure to do feminine things I didn't want to it was specifically because I was seeking the approval of other women. None of the men in my life have ever forced femininity on me the way the cis women have. The people who made fun of me for dressing "badly" and not shaving and spread rumors I was secretly a boy were all girls. I kept trying to get into makeup, not because I wanted boys to think I was cute(all the guys who've shown interest in me have actually liked me just fine the way I am), but because I wanted the women around me to see me as one of them and I never felt like I was.

Even when women aren't pressuring me to do girly things I still feel the pressure because I'm the only woman I know who doesn't and it makes me feel like a freak. I don't care what the men around me think, a guy getting weird about my not shaving or wearing makeup would be instantly disqualified from my dating pool without a second thought, being raised a feminist very quickly inoculated me against giving a shit what men think, but the women? My whole life I have been trying so hard to be one of them and it's still hard work to ignore the annoying internalized patriarchal cisheteronormative bullshit in my head making me think I need to be more like them and less like me. And I genuinely don't know if there will ever come a day when I can hang out in a group of women and not feel like an imposter just waiting to be discovered and killed.

And I know that my experiences aren't universal any more than the person who originally said that's are, but like. It's just wild to me that trans people especially will chalk all of the pressure to conform to gender roles up to shitty men and completely ignore how heavily the patriarchy incentivizes women to not only violently police each other's femininity but also destroy ourselves seeking the approval of the very women who are violently policing our femininity.

EXACTLY.

I love cis women who our allies with all my heart and soul, but we need to stop being desperate for their approval. The cis women who DO care about us would be the first to admit they as a category need to do a lot better, so why do we pussyfoot around them being just as horrible to us as cis men can be?

With trans women it feels like we're just trying to link arms under the exact same oppressive patriarchy because it feels like that's what being a woman is, haha yeah, men hate us, I mean they hate us in different ways and you hate us too but what matters above all else is that we're the exact same thing right? Oh, sorry, like seventy percent of you don't believe that and are violently disgusted by the thought of coming anywhere near me? But I also fear men!

And trans men...

"Women are soooo scared of me, yeah you better cover your drink around trans men too, I mean not that I would do anything personally, but I could, because I'm a man, and that means I could oppress and hurt you, theoretically!"

Listen, bro, most cis women aren't scared of you, they're laughing at you, and frankly so am I, not because it's impossible for a trans man to be a person who's intimidating, but because you're so needy for validation that you've developed a patriarchy fetish you can't turn off.

None of this is to say we should ignore the crimes of cis men or that cis women aren't also another marginalized class, and again, I love cis women who're trans allies, they're amazing, wonderful people and I would never want to leave them behind or seem ungrateful.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written. 

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

Part one || Series masterlist

[reaper2187]

Cairo sweet x female reader

As the school bell rings, a cacophony of chatter fills the hallways, mingling with the light scent of morning coffee and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Amidst this teeming sea of students, you find yourself drawn to a solitary figure perched on a windowsill near the library.

Her name is Cairo Sweet, and your gaze lingers on her with a curious mix of fascination and trepidation. Her face, framed by a cascade of raven hair, is a canvas of exquisite features: piercing brown eyes that seem to hold a depth beyond her years, a delicate nose, and a mouth that curves into a mysterious smile.

As your eyes connect, you feel an unexpected surge of kinship. She is an enigma, an outsider, like you

 You have always felt like a square peg in a round hole, never quite fitting in with the preppy girls who gossip and giggle in the cafeteria. But in Cairo's gaze, you sense a glimmer of understanding.

With a hesitant step, you approach her. 'Excuse me,' you say softly. 'I'm new here. I couldn't help but overhear that you're Cairo Sweet. My name's [Your Name].'

A faint smile crosses her lips. 'Nice to meet you, [Your Name].'

You sit down beside her, your notebooks open in front of you. The silence between you is comfortable, almost inviting. As the minutes turn into hours, you share stolen glances, whispered secrets, and dreams that have long been buried within.

Cairo tells you about her life before Miller's Creek, her nomadic childhood, and her passion for writing. You, in turn, confide in her about your own struggles and aspirations. For the first time, you feel truly seen and understood.

As the day draws to a close, you and Cairo walk together to your lockers. Your fingers brush against hers, and a spark ignites within you. It is a spark of connection, a desire to be near her, to explore the forbidden realms that lie beyond friendship.

But your burgeoning feelings are met with trepidation. This is high school, after all, and societal norms dictate that girls should only date boys. You fear the repercussions of breaking these unspoken rules.

Undeterred, Cairo leans in and whispers, 'I think you're amazing, [Your Name]. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'

Her words embolden you. You take her hand and lead her to an empty classroom. The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the windows, casting a warm and intimate light upon the two of you.

With trembling lips, you confess your feelings. To your surprise, Cairo reciprocates. Her kiss is gentle, tentative, and yet filled with an undeniable longing.

In that stolen moment, time stands still. The world outside fades away, leaving only you and Cairo, two hearts entwined in a secret dance of love.

As you reluctantly pull away, Cairo whispers, 'This is against the rules, but it feels so right.'

You smile. 'Maybe we're destined to be rebels.'

Your secret rendezvous becomes a solace amidst the turmoil of high school. You carve out hidden corners in the library, linger in the shadows of the hallways, and steal precious moments together on deserted benches. Your love grows stronger with each stolen kiss, each whispered promise.

But the walls of silence cannot hold indefinitely. Rumors spread like wildfire, and soon you find yourselves at the center of a storm of gossip and condemnation. Some students whisper words of support, but many more cast judgment upon your forbidden love.

As the pressure mounts, you and Cairo face an impossible choice. You could deny your feelings and conform to societal expectations, or you could embrace your love and risk the consequences.

Together, you choose the latter. Hand in hand, you walk through the hallways, ignoring the disapproving stares and hurtful comments. Your love is a beacon of defiance, a testament to the power of the human heart.

In the end, your resilience and unwavering bond silence the critics. Cairo and [Your Name] become a symbol of hope and acceptance for all who dare to love beyond the confines of societal norms.

And as the years go by, your love story becomes a legend whispered among the students of Miller's Creek, a tale of two girls who dared to defy the odds and find happiness in the most unexpected of places.

[leona-hawthorne]

I HATE IT HERE. mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; in which mattheo is an artist in a businessman’s world… inspired by ‘i hate it here’ by taylor swift words ; 905 warning ; swearing

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

Overhearing crunchy footsteps walking through the fallen autumn leaves, Mattheo snaps his sketchbook shut in fear that some random person would accidentally see his innermost thoughts. He’d been drawing by the Black Lake like he usually did when the voices in his head got too loud. Normally, no one else came out here to bother him, but it appeared that today was unlucky.

“Mattheo?” Oh, it was you who was coming to bother him. Guess his day wasn’t so unlucky, after all.

Taking a seat beside him with your back resting against the large tree behind you, you turn your head to look at him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Did you just get bored or did something happen that made you feel the need to come out here?” You ask, looking down to watch as he mindlessly intertwines your fingers with his.

“How’d you even know I was here?”

“Answer my question.”

”Fine. Both.” He answers, his voice sounding strained as if he’d had the most tiring day of his life.

“You know I’m here to listen, right?” Trying to add to the reassurance, you give his hand a little squeeze. He sighs.

“I don’t wanna burden you. You’re always listening to my fucking problems.”

You can almost physically feel your heart clench at his words. Your sweet boy could never be a burden to you and frankly, it hurt to know that he thought of himself in that way.

“Talk to me.” Your tone is soft but there's something in your voice that makes it clear you aren’t leaving until he tells you everything.

“I just had a really fucking bad day.” He admits in a dismissive voice, as if it’s no big deal, like you shouldn’t worry about him. “And when I was in Potions, some people started talking about what they’re gonna do after they graduate.”

Your brows furrow and you nod in understanding as you let that sink in. It’s never been a secret that Mattheo didn’t exactly know what he was going to do after school ended, but you didn’t realize how badly that fact got to his head.

“That bothered you?” The answer to that question is obvious but still, there was an underlying need to ask it.

“Yes!” He snaps, his eyes burning with uncertainty and he takes a breath to calm himself before continuing. “It was all ‘I’m gonna be a Ministry worker,’ or ‘I’m gonna be an auror,’ or ‘teacher’ or whatever and I just… God, Y/n, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You wanted nothing more than to help him, but you simply couldn’t. It’s not like anything you could say would miraculously make him realize what he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“Everything is so… dull and monochromatic. I don’t want to live in a world where I work 9 to 5 everyday in a cubicle. I just…. I hate it here.”

The mere possibility of living such a tight scheduled, boring, small life suffocated him every minute of everyday. He wanted more. He wanted to see the world, he wanted to be creative, he wanted to bring his dreams to fruition. He refused to become part of the system.

He was an artist at heart. Not many people knew that about him, but you did. He was lucky enough to be born with the ability to extract inspiration from anything in his sights. You, his friends, a song, an animal, architecture. Shit, even a random stranger he meets on the street could get the gears in his beautifully intricate mind to start turning.

Mattheo couldn't go ten minutes without feeling the urge to dump his thoughts onto a blank canvas. Talking wasn’t enough, he needed to create, he needed to use his hands.

His innovation is one of his best traits, one of your favorite things about him, and the idea of him ever giving it up was truly devastating. Taking a good while to think of what to say, you fidget around with his fingers in your hand.

“There’s so much out there, Mattheo. You don't need to conform to what the world wants you to do. I mean come on, you’ve never been one to follow the rules anyway.” You tell him.

“What am I gonna do?” He murmurs as he looks out at the lake, his voice filled with a deep sense of yearning.

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here to help you figure it out. I’ll be here with you for the rest of your life, if you’ll have me.” You whisper as he leans his head on your shoulder, his curls tickling the crook of your neck.

He scoffs, tightening his grip on your hand and snuggling his head deeper into your neck. “Are you stupid? Why would that even be a question? No dreams are worth living out if you’re not in them.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re not getting rid of me.” You lean your head onto his. “I hate it here too but… It’s not so bad when you’re with me. Can I see what you were drawing?”

With an embarrassed blush flushing his cheeks, he hands you his sketchbook and you open up to the most recent page to find an extremely detailed illustration of… you.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

the tortured poets department is really just on repeat 24/7. dare i say… her saddest album? anyways, i love the headcanon that mattheo loves to draw so i thought this would be sweet <3

[suzannahnatters]

Let Your Knights Weep

One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?

The stiff upper lip.

This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.

Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.

First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:

CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:

Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:

By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh; There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.

At the end of the next laisse:

He tears his beard that is so white of hue, Tears from his head his white hair by the roots; And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.

We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.

OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:

Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....

As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....

When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....

They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....

Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…

In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.

I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.

In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.

In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:

In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.

--

In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing. (Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)

[noirflms]

Can you do Sae x female reader x Rin? The brothers are fighting for her love

LOVE OH LOVE — itoshi brothers

i don’t do love triangles much but this is going to be comedic and not angsty ;) but here is your order‼️ ( i apologise for the later post )

itoshi sae is not blind to the ways his brother looks at you. sae sees the way rin looks at you with such a tender look in his eyes, the sparkle with a emotion that sae too knows well. it twists sae’s heart into a pit of turmoil — because no way in hell he’d ever let his brother up him with the romantics.

“you like [name]?” sae had asked out of the blue. rin is stunned. the younger of the brothers is in pure shock. rin had never once thought that his brother would ever notice such a thing. sae awaits on an answer, with each passing tick of the clock he itches for a conformation about his doubts.

“and what will you do, if i did like her?” rin bites back with the same energy. his eyes cold as he stares into the similar hues of his brothers. sae bites away at the inside of his cheeks as he glares down at his brother. he had been proved right and there is certainly no way rin was getting the upper hand here.

it is the hilarity of the situation that the two brother have been brought into. there stands a similarly too, and that is they like the same person, they like the same girl — that their heart is certain with the feelings towards her, but oh, so, oblivious are you, blinded by the fact that you cover their love for you with the glitter of friendship.

each and every time any of the two brothers had bet of that who would be able to take you on a date first. the bet always ends in vain for it is either of the two together with you, no dates, just sae, you and rin. their attempts are shutdown, their trial and error of unending methods are always blocked some way of the other.

but in the itoshi household, there is war. it is utter chaos. there are screams, there is hair pulling, there is punches and cut throat inner alpha male challenges, there is flying pillows and wwe body slam attack, there is also loud shout matches and choking instances, but none is the victor, for both either way will find their way into the chasm of horrors in love.

love is chaotic. it is hurting sae as much as it is hurting rin. it is like a rope around their neck that constricts them breathing whenever they feel for you. their love is binding in such a way that it has tied them down and not you. you walk unaware — you walk free.

but for love has got a grip on them, they fear that there is no escape and the least they could do is burn in this war. but it is weird to make you choose, of course it would be, you had seen the two since young, you had been together since young and there is no way in hell that you’d ever choose between them.

so they bite a bullet. they are and forever will be at war. but they would never make you choose, but they’ll try their best to forge their very own paths in your life. they will until the end keep trying, so you choose on your own, so you could break a heart and make one just the same. it is better this way.

it is this love, oh, love that makes one feel like a loser. it is love that has such a grip on the poor and fickle heart and it is this love that makes you insane, but for love between three is never lucky. the itoshi brothers will keep trying, until one day — there is one heart broken and one heart made.

NOIRFLMS 2024 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.

[serickswrites]

When in Rome

Warnings: capture, public humiliation, torture, restraints, whipping, blood, unconsciousness, bedside vigil, defiant whumpee

"I can be a kind and benevolent ruler," Whumper said as they circled their captives. "I think you will find I am a much better ruler than your former monarch."

Caretaker hated listening to this. Hated that they were all in chains while Whumper and their traitorous band walked free. But worst of all, they hated watching Whumpee struggle in the chains that had been thrown on all of them.

"The only thing you are capable of is evil," Whumpee hissed.

"You could give me a chance, Whumpee. If you give me a chance, if you bow, the others will follow suit. So many subjects have already pledged their loyalty."

"I'd rather die." Whumpee thrust their chin out.

"Whumpee, you were your former ruler's most trusted warrior. If you bend knee, needless violence will be avoided. Surrender and pledge fealty or you shall suffer greatly." Whumper's kind, gentle tone began to fray. Their true nature slowly eating away at the facade that Caretaker knew they were putting up.

"Death first!"

"That can be arranged." Whumper said with a sigh. "Tie them to the pole in front of the castle," they ordered one of their minions. "And take the others with you. I want everyone to see what happens when you do not conform to my law and order. What happens if you defy me."

Whumpee struggled valiantly against the many hands that grabbed them. Caretaker tried on their part, too. But it was to no avail. Whumper had too many followers at hand to fight. The rest of their squad was hauled along with them to the castle square.

"Whumpee, Whumpee, whatever they are planning is far worse than surrendering," Caretaker tried to reason with Whumpee. They could not stand to watch Whumper butcher Whumpee.

Whumpee shook their head, drawing themself up to their full height, head held proud. "If we give in we are complacent with whatever atrocities Whumper commits. The people need to see that some one is willing to stand up in the face of evil."

"You will be killed, Whumpee. Please," Caretaker tried again.

"Then that is the price I pay. I will not bend knee to evil. I will stand strong. Perhaps my death will be what one person needs to realize they must fight. That they can fight."

Caretaker opened their mouth to reply, but Whumpee was pulled away as the group reached the central square. A tall post had been erected in the center atop a tall dais. Whumpee was hauled roughly up the steps and chained with their arms above their head, back to the crowd.

"Citizens, gather round," Whumper said as they climbed the steps of the dais, "and see what it means to refuse me." Whumper held a whip in their hand. Caretaker's mouth went dry.

"I am a benevolent ruler," Whumper said as a hush fell over the crowd, "and I will give you one more chance, Whumpee. Swear fealty and you will be spared."

"I will never bow to you. No matter how much you hurt me, I will never bow before you." Whumpee spat at Whumper, their contempt and intentions clear.

"So be it, then. We will start with ten lashes and see how you feel." Whumper raised their arm and brought the whip down across Whumpee's back. Whumpee's skin split and flowed from the wound.

But they did not cry out.

With each crack of the whip, Caretaker flinched. With each crack of the whip the fearful faces of the crowd became more apparent. And with each crack of the whip, Whumpee's blood flowed, but they did not cry out.

After the tenth crack, Whumper stopped. "Anything you wish to say, Whumpee?"

"Fuck you," Whumpee said weakly.

With a growl, Whumper raised the whip again. "Such insolence shall not be tolerated."

Caretaker lost count of how many times Whumper brought the whip down. They lost count of how long Whumper whipped Whumpee after Whumpee went limp in the chains as they slipped into unconsciousness. They lost count of how many times they begged for Whumpee's life. Because they could only see Whumpee's limp, bloody body slumped over at the whipping post.

"Throw them in the dungeon with the rest of their squad. Offer them no aid. See if that's enough to change their mind," Whumper said when they finally grew tired of whipping Whumpee.

Caretaker didn't fight as they were dragged to the castle's dungeon. They watched in horror as two men grabbed Whumpee by the arms and roughly dragged them along to the dungeon. Whumpee didn't so much as groan or raise their head as they were dragged along.

"Whumpee, please, say something," Caretaker said as they were all tossed in the dungeon.

Whumpee had landed in a heap and hadn't made a sound. "Whumpee, please," Caretaker tried again. They weren't sure where they could touch Whumpee without causing further injury. They lowered themself to the ground next to Whumpee.

Whumpee's eyes were closed, but they were alive. Caretaker could hear their short, pained breaths as they got close to Whumpee. "Someone bring me some water from that bucket." Caretaker ordered. "We need to clean their wounds."

Whumpee didn't wake the whole time the squad cleaned and dressed their wounds. They didn't wake as the squad tried to lay them in a comfortable position gently. And they didn't wake as Caretaker stroked their face and murmured soft words to them.

Caretaker sat in the dark dungeon hoping Whumpee would wake soon. They stroked Whumpee's sweat soaked hair. "Please, Whumpee. Don't do this. Please, just wake up. We can come up with a plan. Please, Whumpee. Don't make us watch you die, too."

But still, Whumpee did not wake.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[itsabouttimex2]

Drifting in Seafoam

(I don’t have enough ‘rare character’ bots, so I made one of Ao Guang!)

Suffering is easier to swallow when it comes with an excuse.

Ao Guang has long learned the worth of these words. It’s hard to break free from the relief they have brought him. If he can pretend that there was meaning to the loss that he’s suffered, to the grief he’s endured, then he can bear it with less tears.

His son, Ao Bing, slaughtered and burned by a Celestial Prince. His son. His little prince. His pride and joy. His darling child. His baby boy.

Gone. Reduced to dust. Left to drift in the wind until those motes of flaky grey had settled to move slowly across the waves of the placid eastern sea.

Sometimes, Ao Guang was sure he could feel precisely which current was carrying the remains of his beloved son, whose ashes would forever be cradled and adored by the sea in which he was raised.

“You mustn’t stray from me,” the dignified king instructs, one wrinkled hand reaching to trace the keratin of your draconic horns. “You must never leave my side, Y/N.”

He slowly takes your hands into his own, holding them tight. He’s been through so much, and lived for so long- and still hasn’t so much as mildly faltered in his strength.

“You are so very much like coral,” he sighs, holding tight to your hands. “So bright and colorful. And so, so very fragile. Drifting slowly through life as the world rages around you… I shall never allow you to come to harm.”

Still are you awkward with the forked tongue so “graciously bestowed” upon you, so the most graceful response to be mustered is a sloppy: “Yeth- yeess. Yes. Yes, and th-thank you, Your Highness.”

“None of that,” Ao Guang sternly instructs, brushing some of your hair behind one of your newly pointed ears. “I have taken you as my own, haven’t I? It is no longer appropriate to refer to me so formally.”

You don’t miss the slight weakness in his voice- this isn’t something the king “wants”. This is something he needs.

It’s feels like a personal insult to yourself, giving in so easily. But there’s no point in fighting, no point in arguing.

Not when His Highness now commands so much of your life, and in so many ways.

“Yes… yes, Bàba.”

In the bend of his knees, there’s the slightest bit of quivering. Slowly does the dignified dragon kneel to your level, cupping your cheeks in both of his old and worn hands.

Ao Guang is cold to the touch, but there’s an incredible amount of warmth in his baggy eyes.

He’s been crying, clearly. Only late at night, when no one but you is around to hear, only when you’re wrapped in his arms.

Not that you were awake for any of it. Guang had made sure of it.

“Very good, my child. Now…”

And there’s the moment you were fearing. That trailing beat. The slightest of pauses, where the king is either planning or plotting maybe even questioning next his actions… before going through with them in the simplest way possible anyhow.

“Allow me to make you another cup of tea.”

“Baba,” is your prompt little whine, draconic tongue flicking around in trembling worry. “My hornth- my horns still huu-urt. N’my ears.”

Compassion glimmers in the seafoam hue of his eyes, his gaze softening slight.

“…I’ll make it special for you,” he promises, using one worn hand to pat your head, “and mix in something to help with the pain.”

As he once did with Bing, so long ago. Boil something hot and sweet to soothe cramps and headaches and fevers.

Guang firmly takes one of your hands into his own, pulling you slowly along to the palace kitchen.

The polished tiles click under his boots, each step sinking a further feeling of helplessness into your heart. You always end up wishing that the journey would take longer- but the click, click, clicking lasts so woefully short a time-

And soon Ao Guang’s hands are around your waist, boosting until he has you settled on a wooden chair with restrictively snug armrests and a padded back.

This… this chair was brand new. And with how perfectly it conformed to the fit of your build, it was very likely that your “adoptive father” had it commissioned and custom-built for you.

At the notion of being treated like a troublesome or helpless child, your face reddens. “Ah, b-baba? The n-normal chair ith- is fine…”

“Hush, Y/N,” he starts, grinding several dubious ingredients with a pestle. They crumble quickly under his powerful hand, and are swept into a ceramic kettle with a winding draconic design.

Once Guang fills the lot and moves it over a stove, he continues to speak.

“You cannot hold yourself through the process of transformation, can you? I saw fit to provide you with some measure of comfort, little conch.”

The little nickname slips off his tongue with practiced ease- you clearly are not the first person he used it for.

Still, he says it so genuinely and warmly that it.. it manages to soothe you in some small measure- that is, right until you hear a tittering whistle- and the tea is done.

In small ways does the bereft man dote on you, even as you squirm and bite back a gasp at the dreaded squeal of the kettle. He mixes inside the teapot a combination of honey and sugar and some nebulous white powder, stirring the mixture together with a little silver spoon.

He plates the little white cup and brings it before you, taking the golden handle between two of his old fingers. As he did twice before, and was bound to do many times again- Guang lifts the rim to your lips.

“Little Conch… I cannot wait to see how you change next.”

[reveryfics]

Hii again !

There is characters i knew for years that when i'll truly discover them (in movies or series) i'll be obsessed. Loki is part of this, but Bucky too ! And i recently watch the Captain America movies (I'm a Marvel fan since my childhood but i hate Steve, so i just watch for Bucky 🥸). And now, I'm wondering how Bucky would react to the first time seeing a ftm person. Right after he remembers a bit of his past life

Thanks for reading me ;) i hope you're feeling well 🎀

The Understanding

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x FtM reader

Summary: Bucky could never wrap his head around how different everything was especially when it came to you.

A/n: Ahh I love the idea of him getting used to everything after what happened with Hyrda, plus the opportunity to do something cute with this idea! Incredibly validating to only watch for Bucky. Also thank you for the concern, I am doing better <3

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors through the panoramic windows of Avengers Tower. Bucky, perched on a windowsill, ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the strands clinging to his damp forehead. The night sky, usually a source of solace, offered no comfort tonight. It was a mirror reflecting the turmoil within him. Months had passed since the incident, yet the weight of his past and the confusion of the present pressed down on him like an inescapable gravity.

Sleep had become a fleeting visitor, replaced by a relentless cycle of intrusive thoughts. Images from his past – the war, the HYDRA experiments, the agonizing memories of loss – would flicker through his mind, followed by the unsettling questions of the present. Who was he now? How was he supposed to navigate this complex world when his own understanding of himself felt so fragile?

Then there was him. The young man who worked alongside Bruce, a whirlwind of vibrant energy and quiet confidence. Bucky would catch glimpses of him in the lab, his movements fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to the stiff, almost robotic movements that had become ingrained in him during his time with HYDRA. He'd overheard a conversation between Bruce and the young man, a conversation laced with vulnerability and a quiet desperation. Bruce, his voice laced with concern, was urging him to be cautious, to prioritize his safety while wearing a binder. He mentioned "trans tape," a term that was completely foreign to Bucky.

Growing up in a world where conformity was enforced with an iron fist, where anything outside the rigid norms of masculinity was met with scorn and violence, Bucky had learned to suppress his curiosity. He had built walls around himself, walls reinforced by fear and a deeply ingrained sense of what was "right." His initial encounters with the young man had been marked by awkward silences and unintentional microaggressions, fueled by his own ignorance and the lingering shadows of his past.

The guilt gnawed at him now, a constant, aching reminder of his own shortcomings. He had hurt someone he barely knew, simply because he lacked the understanding, the empathy, to see beyond his own limited worldview. He imagined the young man, his spirit dimmed by the weight of prejudice, forced to navigate a world that constantly questioned his identity.

A faint glow from the living room pulled him from his reverie. Tony, no doubt, burning the midnight oil. But as Bucky approached, he saw not Tony, but the young man, curled up on the couch, a melancholic movie playing on the screen. He was staring intently at the screen, a desolate expression etched on his face.

"Hey," Bucky called out, his voice hesitant. "Seat taken?"

The young man looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, followed by a weary smile. "No, all yours, big guy."

An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the sounds of the movie. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to bridge the chasm between them. Finally, the young man spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "You could at least ask if you don't understand."

Bucky's breath hitched. "I-"

The young man turned to him, his cheeks flushed. "I understand that this..." he gestured vaguely around them, "isn't what you grew up with, Bucky. But you could at least try to understand, or... or ask if you don't." His voice cracked, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Bucky was paralyzed by indecision. Did he retreat, allow his fear and prejudice to dictate his actions? Or did he finally acknowledge the stirring within him, the burgeoning desire to understand, to connect?

"Explain it to me," he finally managed, his voice rough with emotion.

The young man seemed genuinely surprised. He had expected the usual dismissive comments, the same tired platitudes that had echoed through his life. "It's not like I chose to be this way," he began, his voice trembling. "I wouldn't choose to make my life a living hell, to be called slurs, to be abandoned by the people I love, just because I want to be happy." He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Everything has an explanation, but people don't want to listen when one is provided."

Bucky leaned forward, his eyes locked with the young man's. "I'm listening."

And so, the young man began to speak, his voice gaining strength with each passing word. He spoke of the agonizing dissonance between his internal identity and the expectations placed upon him by society. He spoke of the shame, the self-doubt, the constant battle to reconcile his true self with the world's narrow definition of what it meant to be a man. He spoke of the relief of finally finding acceptance, the joy of being seen and loved for who he truly was.

Bucky listened intently, the weight of the young man's words washing over him. He began to understand, not just intellectually, but on an emotional level. He understood the pain of being forced to conform, the suffocating weight of societal expectations, the profound loneliness of living a life that felt fundamentally inauthentic.

"I'm so sorry," Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know."

The young man looked at him, his eyes searching. "I didn't expect you to," he admitted, his voice softening. "It just... it hurt, hearing someone I... I thought I could trust say those things."

Bucky reached out, his hand hovering over the young man's shoulder. "I wish I knew sooner."

The young man turned to him, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and hope. Bucky gently placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, offering a silent apology, a silent promise to do better. And as he sat there, enveloped in the quiet comfort of shared vulnerability, Bucky realized that this was just the beginning. The beginning of understanding, of healing, of a connection, maybe even something more that transcended the superficial and delved into the depths of their shared humanity.

[koizumicchi]

僕らは愛に恋して生きる (LIP×LIP) English Translation

僕らは愛に恋して生きる Bokura wa Ai ni Koishite Ikiru We Live In Love With Love

LIP×LIP (Aizou & Yuujirou) Lyrics: HoneyWorks Composition: HoneyWorks 魔法使いの約束 ED

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T/N: Keep in mind that Japanese and English aren’t my first language. I never claim my translation (attempts) to be error-free. As always, if you’re going to use or reference my translations, please do not claim it as your own and credit me.

-----

人生という旅の���中で 僕らは出会う 宿命のように

Jinsei to iu tabi no tochū de Bokura wa deau Shukumei no you ni

In the middle of a journey called life We came across each other As if it was predestined

欠けているものを補うように 寄り添い合えれば 世界は愛に満ちる

Kaketeiru mono wo oginau yō ni Yorisoi aereba Sekai wa ai ni michiru

As if to make up for the things we lack If we nestle close to each other The world will be filled with love

心は時に恐怖に喰われ 自分さえも見失う この誓いに形はないが 瞳の光消えても守る BAD END にはさせない

Kokoro wa toki ni kyōfu ni kuware Jibun sae mo miushinau Kono chikai ni katachi wa nai ga Hitomi no hikari kiete mo mamoru Bad End ni wa sasenai

Sometimes our hearts will be gripped by fear That we will even lose sight of ourselves Although this vow takes no form I will protect you, even if the light in your eyes fades I will not let us reach a bad end

僕らは愛を求めて生きる 誰かじゃなくて自分の意志で 僕らは愛に恋して生きる 十色の正義 掲げ戦う

Bokura wa ai o motomete ikiru Dareka janakute jibun no ishi de Bokura wa ai ni koishite ikiru Toiro no seigi kakage tatakau

We live searching for love Not by someone else’s will but by our very own We live in love with love And fight for each of the justice we believe in

従わなくていい 変わらなくていい 譲れないものがあるから 仕方ないんだ

Shitagawanakute ii Kawaranakute ii Yuzurenai mono ga aru kara Shikatanain da

We do not have to conform to anything We don’t have to change ourselves Because there are things we cannot relinquish It cannot be helped

争いで傷つく愛は 愛を持って治すしかないのだろう 触れ合えば温かくなる ほら 拗ねた顔してないで BAD END にはさせない

Arasoi de kizutsuku ai wa Ai o motte naosu shikanai no darou Fureaeba atatakaku naru Hora suneta kao shitenai de Bad End ni wa sasenai

A love that is hurt by strife There is no other way to heal it but with love We will feel warm if we touch each other Hey, do not look so sullen now I will not let us reach a bad end

僕らは愛に恐れて生きる 知らない方が幸せなぐらい 僕らは愛に命捧げる その尊さを知ってしまったから

Bokura wa ai ni osorete ikiru Shiranai hou ga shiawase na gurai Bokura wa ai ni inochi sasageru Sono toutosa o shitte shimatta kara

We live being afraid of love Perhaps we'd be so much happier not knowing We shall devote our lives to love Because we have come to know its preciousness

無くならない争い 不寛容な世界 どんな正義にも涙流れた 僕らは無力だ 何が正義だ

Nakunaranai arasoi Fuukan youna sekai Donna seigi ni mo namida nagareta Bokura wa muryoku da Nani ga seigi da

Conflicts that will never be put to rest A compassionless world Tears flowed no matter what kind of justice is served We are powerless Just what do we take a stand for

僕らは愛を求めて生きる 誰かじゃなくて自分の意志で 僕らは愛に恋して生きる 十色の意思を認め手を取る

Bokura wa ai o motomete ikiru Dareka janakute jibun no ishi de Bokura wa ai ni koishite ikiru Toiro no ishi wo mitome te wo toru

We live searching for love Not by someone else’s will but by our very own We live in love with love Acknowledging each of our own will, I take your hand

ラララ... Ra ra ra… La la la….

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Helloo !

First time asking anything on tumblr, so I'm not really used to this, but do you have any 5+1 fanfictions ? I absolutely adore these kind of fics, but I'm a little lazy to search for them myself.😅

I don't really care what they are about, as long as they're not full on smut (I don't like reading this kind of stuff, but I don't really mind if it's mild and/or mentioned. )

Thank you if you respond, and thank you for this amazing blog !

Hi Nonny!

I ABSOLUTELY do have a bunch I can rec to you, AND I even have enough to do a part 2 list, so I'm going to use your ask as an excuse to make it!! So make sure you check out my first part list, and this one which are fics I haven't read for the most part, so hopefully they appeal to you!

As per usual, friends, please add your own if you have them!

FIVE AND ONES (and Similar Fics) Pt 2

See also: Five and Ones (Updated December 2023)

BOOKMARKS

Three Ways Sherlock Conformed to His Stereotype by Jennistar1 (K+, 1,445 w.,  1 Ch. || Humour, Cranky Sherlock) – "It's a hat." / Urge to roll eyes, quashed. "Yes. I can see that." / "It's called a deerstalker." (FFNet)

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV First Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST, Five and One) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

MARKED FOR LATER / TO READ

5 Times Sherlock Said "I Love You" And 1 Time John Said "I Love You, Too" by johnwatso (G, 660 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Alternate Ending, Five and Ones, Angst, Pining, Happy Ending, Canon Compliant) – "My entire existence before that moment was meaningless. I smiled at you, though my eyes teared up. You nodded, ever the stoic soldier, my John, and repeated, “I love you, too,” even though you knew I heard you."

4 Times Sherlock Proposed, and One Time John Returned the Favour by PipMer (T, 1,251 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour Romance, Five and One) – Well, this would not do. This would not do at all. John Watson should never look so unsure of himself, so fearful of rejection. John Watson deserved all of the best things life had to offer, and if one of those things was Sherlock Holmes himself, then that’s what he would have. No begging, and no grovelling, necessary.

Five Times Sherlock and John Had Realistic Sex and One Time They Didn't by pennydreadful (E, 1,811 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Anal/Oral, Finger Fucking, Hand Jobs) – Reality is a bitch.

Pocketful of sunshine by good_vibes_mostly (G, 2,618 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Kissing, Developing Relationship, One Shot, POV Sherlock, Five and One, Hand Holding, Sherlock and Kids) – 5+1 times John used Sherlock's pockets.

Five Times He Woke Up With Sherlock, and the One Time He Didn't... by MrsNoggin (T, 2,750 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, Bed Sharing, Romance, First Time) – It was a strange experience, waking up beside someone in bed. It had been a while since he had last done it and John found himself conscious, in his semi-conscious state, of all those old dilemmas of morning breath and pillow-creased cheeks and blood rushes to odd places.

A Study in Night Terrors by Dovahlock221 (T, 2,811 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Night Terrors, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, PTSD Sherlock, Worried John, Hurt John, Angst with Happy Ending) – Five times Sherlock suffered from night terrors and the one time he had the best dream of his life.

What Every Step Is For by Anyawen (G, 2,921 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Bedsharing, Injury, Illness, Cold, Lack of Beds, Fake Relationship, Fluff) – Five times bedsharing occurred due to circumstance, and one time it happened by invitation.

Bodywork by Silvergirl (M, 3,000 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Massage, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious John, POV John, Sly/Sneaky Sherlock) – Five times John became unbearably aroused while being massaged, and one time he absolutely didn't, which was all he needed to know.

5 Times John Almost Told Sherlock He Loved Him, and 1 Time He Did by wanderlustmind (T, 3,006 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Additional Tags to be added) – As adorable as a box of puppies, I promise.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Five and On, Food, Missing Scene, Three Garridebs Moment /John Whump, Cuddling/Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Love Declarations, Parenthood, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn't. A history of the boys, in food.

Safe Harbour by 221b_hound (G, 3,842 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Five and One) – Five times John comforts someone, and one time someone comforts him.

You're more than what happened to you (Over teatime) by writing5ever (T, 4,377+ w., 4/5 Ch. || WiP || Character Study, Tea, Developing Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drug Use, Four and One) – Four Times John and Sherlock talk about feelings over tea. And One time where they don't have to. - OR - a character study on Sherlock Holmes done through a plotless storyline.

Thankless (a 5 + 1) by Silvergirl (T, 5,711 w., 1 Ch. || POV First Person Lestrade, Five and One,  Sherlock’s Birthday, Johnlock Anniversary) – Five times that helping Sherlock Holmes was a thankless task, and one time that it wasn't.

The Fundamental Things Apply by Raina_at (M, 6,263 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Kissing) – "Kisses that are easily obtained are easily forgotten." - Proverb

and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind by subtext-is-my-division (E, 6,281 w., 1 Ch. || Heavy Fluff, Five and One, Kissing, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock’s Inner Monologue, Possessive John, Established Relationship, Domesticity, Three Garridebs Moment) – Five times John kissed Sherlock, and one time Sherlock kissed John.

Of Vices and Companionship by Amyreadsandstresses (T, 6,497 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Canon / No Johnlock ||  Angst, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt Mycroft, Drug Addiction / Use, Implied Alcoholism, Child Neglect, Dysfunctional Family, Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Teenage Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Depression, Holmes Brothers, Not-Good Mummy, Five and One) – Over his life, Sherlock could pinpoint five times that marked his path to self-destruction. Belatedly, Mycroft only saw them when it was too late. Or: Five times Sherlock fell and one time Mycroft fell with him.

Sleight of Hand (Or, five times John Watson took something that didn’t belong to him, and one time it did) by Knackorcraft (M, 7,009 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Pickpocket John, Five and One) – John is a master pickpocket and Sherlock has a competency kink.

Five Times Sherlock Fell Asleep in John's Arms by Accident and the One Time He Did It – Accidentally – on Purpose by WillowGrove (T, 7,201 w., 6 Ch, || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Five and One, Falling Asleep, Cuddling & Snuggling, Texting, Tea, First Kiss, Dreams, Fever, Comfort, Caretaker John, Love, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock notices that John keeps cuddling him to sleep and he rather likes it. But then John stops, and Sherlock has to result to schemes to make it happen again. Who falls asleep, who wakes up in who’s arms, and – most importantly – will there be a kiss in the end?

Misunderstanding the Concept of Homosexuality by thunderstorms_and_snow (G, 7,557 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, Food, Idiots in Love) – 5 times Sherlock gets along extremely well with lesbians before John realises he's not flirting with them but rather has this tentative Gay Solidarity thing going on.

Dinner Conversations, a 5+1 by BakerTumblings (G, 7,559 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Blended Families, Parentlock, Dinner Conversations, Established Relationship, Family Adventures, Five and Ones) – Five times that John had something to say at or about dinnertime, and one time where John was requested to listen. Part 8 of Eyes Wide Open

Never Trust to General Impressions by thetimemoves (T, 9,300 w., 1 Ch. || S1/S2 Compliant TGG Pool Scene, TRF Divergence, Five and One, John Watson Observes, Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Falling in Love, First Kiss, Light Angst, Meddling Mycroft, Love Confession) – John might not be a master of deduction, but as he likes to remind Sherlock on the regular, he’s no idiot either. There is what the world thinks of Sherlock, and then there is what John really knows. Well, most of the time. There's always something. Or, five things John Watson knows for sure about Sherlock Holmes and one thing he completely misses.

Your Daughter by agirlsname (G, 9,375 w., 6 Ch. || HLV Fix It Fic, Five and One, Fluff, Fatherhood, Newborn, Emotional Sherlock, Hugs, Mary is Not Nice, Getting Together) – Five times Sherlock held John's baby and one time he held John. John didn't forgive Mary for shooting Sherlock, so the end of HLV didn't happen. When the baby comes John lives with Sherlock at Baker Street, and they take care of the newborn together. Sherlock adores her more than he's prepared for. Oh, and he might have something important to confess to John...

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss (E, 10,116 w., 2 Ch. || Post-S4, POV Outsider, Parentlock, Fluff, Five and One) – Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.

The Refractive Index by NoStraightLine (E, 10,395 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, BAMF John, Crossdressing, Sherlock is Shot, Oral Fixation, First Time, Hurt/Comfort) – Five times John and Sherlock fuck in a bolt-hole, and one time they don't.

Clutter-Free by MissDavis (E, 13,434 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, Friends to Lovers, Cleaning / Tidying, First Kiss / Time, Minor Injuries, Minor Illness, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Dinner) – 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn't have to.

Explicit by 7PercentSolution (M, 13,985 w., 6 Ch. || Discussions About Sex, First Time, Masturbation, Sex in Exchange for Drugs, Victor Trevor, Autistic Sherlock, Communication Deficits, Gay and Bisexual Orientations, Mycroft as a Sex Counsellor, Pining Without Purpose, Oblivious John, Five and One) – “Sex doesn’t alarm me.” Five times Sherlock tries but fails to avoid talking about sex, and one time when he succeeds but shouldn’t have. Each of the stories relates to one of the times in my universe when sex became a topic of conversation. Part 6 of Ex Files

To a Friend Who Sent Me Roses by AlgySwinburne (E, 16,152 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4 / Ignores TFP, Five and One, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock, Parenthood, Declarations of Love, First Kiss, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock Oblivious Sherlock, Morning Sex, Anal Sex, Press and Tabloids) – Five times Sherlock is mistaken for John’s partner and Rosie’s father, and one time it isn’t a mistake.

In Plain Sight by SilentAuror (E, 18,100 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, 5 and Ones, POV Sherlock, Sex on Trains, Sex During Investigations, Sex in Offices, Unspoken Feelings, Anal, Slight Medical Kink, Public Sex Kink) – Five times that Sherlock and John have sex of some kind without talking about it and one time when they do. Part 1 of the Public Sex Kink

Sequelae of the Stradivarius by Ragazza_Guasto (E, 19,909 w., 6 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pavlovian Response, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Male Prostitutes, Fluff and Angst, Bisexual John, Virgin Sherlock, Pining, 5 and One) – John has taken to masturbating when Sherlock is playing the violin because he’s usually in the Mind Palace and sufficiently distracted. But now he’s having a Pavlovian response to violin music. Boners. Inappropriate boners. Or: Five times John and Sherlock enjoyed violin music separately and one time it brought them together. Part 1 of the Bows and Badges series

5 times John Watson was there for someone and 1 time everybody were there for John Watson by Ellysees (T, 19,731 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, BAMF John, Injured John, Nice Anderson, Nice Donovan, Everyone Loves John, Meddling Mycroft, Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, John Whump, Doctor John, Soldier John, Silver Fox Lestrade, Caring Sherlock) – John is a brave, selfless and kind friend. This is 5 times John Watson was there for someone, whether it be saving their ass, hooking them up, helping them out or whatever. Then one day John’s injured shoulder causes him trouble during a case and a new officer on Lestrade’s force is being a total dick about it. He should have known better than messing with John Watson – everybody’s favourite guy.

Just Dance by 7PercentSolution (M, 22,784 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TSo3, Ballroom Dancing, For a Case, Drug Use, Sherlock Loves Dancing, Four and One, Abusive Boss) – Four dances that Sherlock taught Janine — and one he didn’t. Never mind if it leads him into dangerous territory; how could Sherlock resist a case from Lady Smallwood that lets him use his dancing skills? 

Magpie: Three for a Girl by 7PercentSolution (G, 24,673 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, BAMF Mary / AGRA, Action / Adventure) – The mystery that is Mary—who she is, where she came from and what debts she accrued along that journey. How did she come to fall in love with a man she was supposed to be protecting and why it leads her to put a bullet in Sherlock's chest.

Time in a Bottle by DiscordantWords (M, 26,082 w., 6 Ch. || Magical Realism AU || Djinni / Genies, Time Travel, Temporary Character Death, Mutual Pining, Messy John / Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Heavy Angst With Happy Ending) – This is a story of seven wishes. One wasted wish, five wishes that changed the world, and one wish that changed nothing at all.

Sleepwalkers by ArwaMachine (E, 27,618 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, Bed Sharing, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Fluff, Blow Jobs, Anal, Bottomlock, Whump, Worried Sherlock) – Five times Sherlock and John share a bed after a near-death experience, and one time they share a bed for…other reasons.

5 times Sherlock got (a) dressed like a woman, plus 1 he did not by Nauss (M, 25,719 w., 6 Ch. || Friendship and Romance, 5 and Ones, FRENCH) – Ton regard est baissé et ton attitude ne brille pas de son habituel éclat Je-sais-que-tu-considères-que-je-n'aurais-pas-dû-mais-la-science-John. À la place, il y a tous ces petits détails que je ne parviens pas à voir, alors je m'approche de ta silhouette enrobedechambrée. Puis je lève la main, bouche bée. - John rentre en avance du travail et tombe sur un imprévu sherlockien.

under the burden of solitude by subtext-is-my-division (E, 27,947 w., 5 Ch. || S3/S4 Fix It/Post TLD, Angst, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Mentions of Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Fantasies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts Mentions, Five and Ones) – Five times they shared a bed platonically, and one time they didn't.

About Last Night by TalksToSelf (E, 28,348 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, Drunk Sex, Amnesia, Uncertainty, Early Days, Alcohol, Adrenaline, First Times, Needs and Wants, Anger, Awkwardness) – Or 'Five Times John Woke Up In Sherlock's Bed After Sex (And One Time He Didn't).'

Caesura by emilycare (M, 36,608 w., 10 Ch. || Five and One, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Friends to Lovers, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Bisexual John) – The violin is a retreat that eases the quiet of Sherlock Holmes' solitude. It also speaks for him when he cannot bridge the gaps his defenses create. Moments when music helps Sherlock reach out or let others in, like his stalwart flatmate and, in time, the doctor's daughter. Five times Sherlock Holmes played the violin, and one time he did not.

Staircase Wit by splix (E, 42,031 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, Sherlock Whump) – L’esprit de l'escalier - Sherlock never suffers from it, which isn't to say he doesn't suffer for it. Five times he took a beating, and one time he got away.

Crucial by scrub456 (T, 60,759 w., 6 Ch. || Post TRF Divergence, Five and One, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied / Referenced Alcohol Abuse, John's PTSD, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Denial, BAMF John, Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Epic Friendship, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Note, Anti-Depressants, Marriage Proposals, BAMF Lestrade, BAMF Mary, Lestrolly, Major Character Death, Violence, Stalking, Triggers) – Five Times John Watson and Greg Lestrade Met on the Roof of Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital + One Time They Didn’t. Part 3 of Essential

[twistedastrology]

- The most painful Chiron placements -

----------------------------------------------------------

in my opinion-

to preface, all chiron placements are inherently painful, but these to me are the ones i have the most respect for in a way??

everyone knows chiron as the wounded healer, it represents our soul level wound that, once healed, is our greatest superpower.

so here are a handful of the chiron placements that to me are the most intense.

- Chiron in Aries/1st -

chiron in aries is absolutely terrifying to me and i have the utmost respect for people with this placement because this is a core wound of the self.

they go through life forever trying to find who they are and feeling like the world holds no space for them- ive said like a billion times that my biggest fear is losing myself, and that's the wound that chiron in aries has to deal with.

they might struggle with finding what they're willed to do and might feel like a mosaic of everything else around them instead of a real person and that is so scary to me.

once they manage to heal that wound though, they are fucking unstoppable and inspire others to find themselves just as they did.

- Chiron in Sagittarius -

this one is intense to me because it often has a lot of potential to remain unhealed- this is a wound that relates to spirituality entirely-

i dont know many ppl with this placement at all but i imagine they're scared or intimidated by spirituality as a whole to some degree-

these people don't know what the purpose of life is, they don't know what they believe in or If they believe in anything- the subject of belief and purpose in life is very sore for them.

when healed, this chiron placement bestows an intense sense of belonging and meaning in life, and it has a lot of potential to remain unhealed because spirituality at the very least helps you to find a true meaning in life, without adhering to a strict religion that makes one up.

- Chiron in Aquarius/11th -

im a little biased for this one because i have this placement but i can 100% speak from experience because of that.

this placement is easily the most agonizing one in my entire chart- for the longest time i felt like i would never find true friends, and sometimes that feeling will creep up again and it makes me absolutely crumble.

chiron in aries and chiron in aquarius are very similar to some extent because they both feel like the world won't give them somewhere to feel at home, just for different reasons.

chiron in aquarius makes you feel like you will never have anyone who truly understands you and that even if you do, they won't stick around like you want them to.

for some people, this can make them try to conform to somewhere they don't belong. thankfully i don't have that aspect, but it has crossed my mind multiple times in life.

this placement, when it's triggered by something, makes me immediately consider every possibility upon meeting someone new and forces me to give up my hopes until im proven otherwise.

im pretty sure it's the reason i have an avoidant attachment style as well as trust issues 😮‍💨

when healed though, these people have the ability to bring people together without snuffing anyone's individuality. they always respect people for who they are and the friends they do manage to find respect them for who they are.

much shorter post this time but ive been super tired all day and ofc had a chiron trigger so ive been a little cranky to say the least- but i wanted to write something for some reason so i figured what better than what i struggled with today 😮‍💨

if you have any of these chiron placements or just generally know your chiron fucking hurts really bad when it's triggered, i get it- but it won't be like that forever. the more we manage to heal, the more that wound is transformed into the most stable part of our charts.

if in general you're not doing well rn, again, i get it, but it will never be like that forever. that's not how life works. you won't be happy forever either, but if you were, there would be no value to it.

like the song i named this blog after says, "a lonely life where no one understands you, but don't give up because the music do"

- 🖤 -

[pubbamoon]

Destiny Matrix Observations

Hi besties! How are we today? So, I was wondering which type of a post I could make this time and I've got an idea of doing random observations. Since my content related to the Matrix of Destiny goes very well here, I decided to start making the Destiny Matrix observations. I hope you're gonna like it.

If you were born on March 14th, you may notice that these numbers (3 and 14) are placed in purple circle of your chart, representing the Crown chakra. This chakra relates to our life journey, our physical presence and how we are perceived by others. It is placed at the top of our head, representing our mind and wisdom too. Number 17 is also significant for the area of life represented by your Crown chakra.

That might sound weird, but whenever I analyze at least two people's Destiny Matrix chart and they have the same central number, they most likely have the same karmic tail too. For example, I see many people with the number 5 (The Hierophant) at the center of their chart having the "Warrior" karmic tail (12-19-7). Most of these people who have this karmic tail might tend to fight for their belief, to feel that they're superior that others or just get into conflicts. Interestingly enough, number 5 represents the conflict, along with the 5 of Swords and 5 of Wands.

Having number 7 (The Chariot) in Throat chakra likely indicates direct way of communicating. The Chariot is associated with strong will, ambition and taking action. On the other hand, number 18 (The Moon) in Throat chakra might indicate communicating in a more indirect way.

Whenever I see number 5 (The Hierophant) in someone's Root chakra, it's always a confirmation to me that this person grew up in a strict and religious household. The Hierophant is mostly related to conformity, religious beliefs, morality and tradition, while Root chakra might represent upbringing, ancestors and foundation. Lana Del Rey and Bruce Springsteen have number 5 in their Root chakra, for example.

I see many people with the 22-5-10 code in their money line working in entertainment industry at some point. If some of you with this placement don't work in entertainment field, I guess this placement may indicate working in unconventional work environment. Nicki Minaj and Ice Spice come first to my mind. They both have this code in their money line.

The combination of number 9 (The Hermit) and number 18 (The Moon) in someone's Destiny Matrix chart can indicate a shy, private, introverted and reserved person who may find happiness through isolation and being alone. The Hermit represents solitude, introspection and wisdom, while The Moon represents intuition, uncertainty and fears.

That is everything so far! Thank you so much for spending your time to read this observation of mine. I hope you liked it and resonated with the observation if you have any mentioned placements. Bye for now and be well!

Best regards, Paky McGee