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suzannahnatters · 8 months

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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!)

#history #writing #historical fiction #medieval history #medieval #middle ages #historical #masculinity #history of masculinity #toxic masculinity

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sokkastyles · 2 months

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I'm not sure if you're tired of seeing asks like this, so it's okay if you don't want to give a lengthy answer, but I have some thoughts about why female fans (in general) are more open to the idea of Zutara or hearing takes about them as a pairing compared to male fans (in general). I think it might partially have to do with how men (in general) see women versus how women (in general) see themselves. I feel like a lot of male fans are very resistant to the idea of Katara being a flawed person because it gets in the way of their perception of what makes Katara desirable and a good character. For a lot of male fans it seems like Katara's darker, more complicated emotions are separate from who she is as a whole person or something that needs to be fixed, but for a lot of female fans Katara's complicated emotions and her trauma are considered an essential part of understanding her as a character and not something that needs to be corrected or fixed. Personally, as a brown girl myself, I loved the fact that Katara was realistically flawed, decided to handle her trauma on her own terms, and had Zuko supporting her through it and understanding her. I'm not really sure if this makes sense, and I might be very off base, but these are generalizations based on my personal observations. What do you think?

I think you're spot on. Just look at, for example, Katara's characterization with regard to her mother's death. Her taking on motherly traits is something that makes her a desirable love interest when those motherly instincts are turned on Aang, yet Aang especially refuses to deal with the negative side of that, Katara's trauma over her mother's death and the toll that this emotional labor takes on her. Women are supposed to be motherly by nature. They aren't supposed to complain about it or be negatively affected by having to carry other people's needs all the time without attending to their own. They aren't supposed to be human. The way that Aang thinks Katara should deal with her trauma is by being endlessly forgiving, and that's telling. It's framed as coming from Aang's personal cultural beliefs, yet he does not tell other characters, like Zuko or Sokka, that they should forgive the people who hurt them. He did not forgive the people who destroyed his people or who stole Appa. This need to forgive is focused solely on Katara, even though Sokka points out that Kya was his mother, too. And oh, we can talk all day about the difference between the way Katara and Sokka feel about their mother, but at the end of the day, these are fictional characters and the writers made a decision to portray Katara's pain, that is directly connected to the ways they established her as a motherly figure to Aang, as bad and irrational and something that stood in the way of her reciprocating Aang's love. That this aspect of her personality needed to be purged or repressed so that she could fulfill her role as Aang's motherwife.

Men dichotomize women like this all the time, without realizing that they have created these dichotomies. No woman ever fits into these boxes because women are not dichotomies, they are full human beings. That's why a lot of women identify with this aspect of Katara and resent the show's attempts to dichotomize her.

#katara #antikataang #zutara

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charlesien · 3 months

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I will make retro vintage t shirt design and illustration

Massage me: Yogi Rimawan

If you looking for vintage/handdrawn design. especially for your brand? you are in the right place. I will made hand drawing and original design that will suit for Tshirt or another merchandise and for your branding design. Thanks!

#artists on tumblr #illustration #vintage cars #baliwart #dungeon meshi senshi #senshi of izganda #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #disco elysium kim #disco elysium #lieutenant kim kitsuragi #kim kitsuragi #emotional support fictional men

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thesunloveschips · 5 days

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 10: An Unfamiliar World

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

Chapter Summary: Nyra tries to recall her memories from the Cauldron which includes the silhouettes of unfamiliar people. Rhys's sister makes an appearance. Nyra confronts Nesta. Shadows are supportive little darlings.

A/N: I am immensely thankful to @stormhearty. Your friendship is something precious for the real me who is a slightly crazy woman who loves food and fictional men. Thank you for helping me with this chapter. I will continue to fangirl over characters from books and manhwa with you.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

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Nyra's POV

Approximately an hour was left for dinner. I was still sitting by the window in Elain's bedroom. Nesta was sitting on the armchair across me and the occupant of the room was still unconscious.

None of us were talking but I could hear the Cauldron cry as if it was in the same room. Its cries and pleas which I did not want to hear. Not after what it did to my sisters. I closed my eyes and remembered it.

It was cold and lonely in this place. The sensation on my body made it seem like I was floating. And then there was a rip. Pain shot through me. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I could not move. Could not open my eyes to see what was going on. It started from my head, from between the eyes. And then it was there, on my chest. I felt like something was being taken from me and that my body was desperately clinging on to it.

It was exhausting. I don’t even know if I was crying. And then pain vanished. I was someplace warm now. I opened my eyes and saw the darkness around me. I was a silhouette of light. Underneath me, a body floated. My body. My weak, mortal body. I was still connected to it. A single glowing string continued to connect me.

And then there were whispers behind me. I turned around and saw other silhouettes. There were many. Each of them were standing at a different distances from me. All of them with glowing eyes. They were different in appearance—different heights, build, sex, skin colour, hair colour, clothing and so much and yet, the only thing that was common was the glowing eyes. I noticed that only one of them did not have glowing eyes. In fact, her eyes were closed. She was the one standing closest to me. A young girl with large bat-like wings.

My entire being felt a pull. I looked around trying to identify the source. It was that string connecting me to my body that floated in the abyss. I looked behind at the figures and found them facing me. Even the young girl with closed eyes. Everyone except the girl lifted their hands and a string flowed out from their palms towards me. With a bundle of strings in my hands, I let them go. The strings floated around me. I waved my hands and with knowledge I did not know I possessed, I manipulated the strings.

They weaved themselves under my guidance into something. A string from my own palm emerged and joined the creation. Whatever that was finally created, came to rest in my arms and I held it. I looked at the body below me and dropped the thing on it.

I had created a body which was merging with the mortal one that floated. The golden body and my own body were merging. I felt more strings from those behind me and I pushed them towards the merging bodies. Something happened. It seemed to help with the merger. And the final product was complete. I looked behind at the figures and they were looking at me, not with glowing eyes but with their own eyes. Approval, happiness, determination, pride—many emotions floated in their eyes. All of them giving me the nod to do something.

I looked at the girl whose eyes were still closed but this time, her lips were parted. And her young voice spoke. “You were poisoned.” I froze.

Another voice from behind her spoke. “You fought well.” It was a woman—tall and larger than women. Easily six feet.

The girl spoke again, her voice pained. “He has been waiting for so long.” And her hand darted forward to push me towards the new body that had been created.

Something stopped me from reaching my body. Some creatures. Many creatures of different shapes and sizes. They were blocking my path. I had to go. The pull was getting stronger. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was moving—fighting. Like a warrior with practised ease and strength, I was destroying the demons surrounding me.

A familiar presence was nearby. I looked around and felt the gaze of a predator. A familiar presence. I walked closer and identified that to be the one whom I shared a womb in this life. A sibling. What was their name? Was it a girl or a boy? Either way, they shouldn’t be in this place. I raised my hand when I got close enough and pushed them away. Their presence completely vanished and I was left alone with the figures around me.

My fight continued. I won. I walked over to the body waiting for me like a vessel to fill it. A pained cry caught my attention.

“Please.” It begged. And some stupid part of me walked over and helped it. It was wounded and I healed it. “I am forever in your debt.” We talked a lot and then I walked back and felt my essence enter the body.

Once I had entered the body, I looked around. There was no light, no screams, nothing. Just pure darkness. I lifted my hands and checked them. I was glowing. Energy crackled around me. Something glowed from above me. I looked up and saw a bright thread, the only source of light in this darkness. An identical thread sprouted from my chest and ascended to meet it. I watched as the two thread merge into one, as though they were never separated. And then something grabbed my wrists. It coiled around them like a rope and pulled me upwards.

The next thing I knew, I was exiting the Cauldron. People around me were screaming my name. What was it? I could not even see anything clearly. Wisps of darkness and water blurred my vision to the maximum. Something cool and comfortable was all over me. Some energy. It helped me walk and led me to the source of the shining thread. And then they laid me down and I fell a wave of comfort and relief. And I fell asleep.

There was much more to all of this than what I could comprehend right now. That girl and all the figures lined up behind her. This silence in Elain’s bedroom was too loud. I wanted to scream and run and vomit and do so much, all at the same time. The beast within me was my own self. My real self. My power. At present, she was tame; like a cat curled up for a nap. But the cat was starting to get irritated. It was on the verge of transforming into another feline creature of greater size and power should it be provoked for too long. The only thing calming my inner self was the night sky. The stars were a calming sight.

But why did I feel like this? Like a part of me was absent. And the emptiness was seeping into the rest of me. A desperate feeling of yearning was there. For what? For who? Why? To be yearning so much to the point where it was starting to frustrate me—whose absence was affecting me so? I knew it wasn't father. I did not interact with the man who had been so absent from our lives. During our childhood when we were wealthy, it was a physical absence. During our teenage years when we were poor, it was an emotional absence. When Feyre was taken and we mysteriously became rich, the physical and emotional absence became far too much that I did not bother. We talked only when it was required. With him entrusting the keys of the house to me because he was too afraid to face Nesta, who was the healthier twin.

Was it for Feyre, who had been taken from us only to return as a completely different person? I did not even recognise the girl who came back the first time. A girl with life breathed into her only to tell us about the man she fell in love with. She left to save him. And then she returned as a fae. A broken shell of the woman she had become previously. Her subsequent visits showed improvement but I did not recognise her even then. She was no longer the woman who was our sister. She was free and powerful and independent and that was good for her but my sister had died and a new woman had taken her place. Feyre was no longer our sister in many aspects. And yet she was. But I had this powerful feeling that she would not have come to us after becoming fae if it weren't for the mortal queens and the Book of Breathings.

From what Nesta told me, Elain had begged not to be drowned in the Cauldron and yet she had been the first one to be Made. The woman who went in crying and the woman who returned were two different beings. And now, she was lifeless. The only semblance of who she was could be found in the open curtains. I looked at the sleeping sister. She was pale and thin and the bones of her hand, cheek and neck were too prominent.

Nesta, who had kicked and screamed, before being thrown into the Cauldron. How did she emerge? She hadn’t told me anything. But the woman who was sitting in front of me was withdrawn. She was no longer the panther who waited in the dark before striking. She was a cat who had retired to sleep. Nesta’s claws were no longer sharp.

Then for whom was I feeling so much? This burning sensation. I think I would've cried if I hadn't averted my eyes to look at the sea. Even in the darkness, I could identify where it was after having looked at for so long during the day. So much love, it made me feel like I was bundled up in a velvety blanket. But the other emotions made me feel like the blanket would be ripped away from my body and I would have to wake up to a horrible world.

Nesta's movement began to distract me from my own inner turmoil. She had stood up, walked towards the door, opened it and peeped outside to see if anyone was there and then closed it again. She came back but did not sit down. "We ought to get ready for dinner."

"I suppose we should." I stood up and then looked at Elain. We did not speak because we did not know what to speak of. We walked over to the door connecting Elain's room with Nesta's and entered and closed the door behind us.

"Your room is ahead." Nesta pointed towards the door straight ahead.

"What do you feel about all of this?" I turned to the window. I knew that Nesta required space before she could answer difficult questions. Not looking at her meant that she would feel less pressurised and that she would have more clarity of thought.

Nesta looked outside the window. "We are in an unfamiliar world. I do not mind it much. I do not have a marriage waiting for me. But…"

"You worry for father?" I wanted to know what she felt for him. She did not despise him as much as she tried to pretend. And she would always leave the room whenever I tried to confront her about it, knowing my sick body couldn't follow her. But now I could. And it seemed like she was realising that bit too.

Nesta scoffed. "The man could barely pick himself up even when Feyre went out to hunt. You were sick. We needed the money for your medicines."

"What about you and Elain? What were the two of you doing?" This was it. This was everything. Our lives had revolved around this for so long. Feyre had continuously begged me not to confront Nesta or Elain about this and I truly found her foolish for that. Her kindness had been extended to undeserving people.

"We could never send Elain out. She…"

"Then what about you?" I asked softly. I did not have the patience to shout at her and she was no longer poised to strike. So would she answer me? "Feyre was just a child."

"I know you would've gone out." Nesta's voice was a mere whisper. "You would've done anything and everything for all of us. You're like Feyre in that aspect."

"I think I would have." I spoke. The salty scent of her tears spread around the room. "Do not try to deflect, Nesta."

I knew how much Nesta hated that cottage. That bed where mother had birthed us and died. Everything around us was a reminder of the weakness we carried within ourselves.

"And that trait of yours made you push me out of the Cauldron." Nesta looked at me, vision blurred by tears.

"What were you doing, Nesta?" I had to be more firm with her. I was rarely firm with any of them. That had costed us too much. And whenever I was, I snapped too badly.

"I was scared!" Nesta's voice rose.

"Scared of the world and in that house, only our father knew how to navigate through it." I added and hummed. "He disappointed you, didn't he? When he did not go out to find work and instead remained… hopelessly hopeful for a miracle." I moved towards the door Nesta had pointed at, the one that would lead to me bedroom and stood by the door. The door knob was a beautiful piece of wood, simple and shaped. "Our mother's lessons never included any survival skills but our father's travels did."

I remembered how Feyre had snuck into our father's office to see the maps and the trinkets he brought back from his travels. How father sat her on his lap and told her stories of the world outside. Nesta was staunchly against that. I simply smiled and encouraged Feyre to listen to father's stories. He would tell her about the different people, cultures, cuisines and adventures he had. And eventually those stories shaped Feyre into becoming the one to step outside their home to be the breadwinner.

"And even now, you love him."

"That's ridiculous." Nesta sneered.

"Why?"

"Because I am my mother's daughter."

"All of us are."

"I am more of her than any of you ever was."

"And what are we?"

"Not hers." Nesta did not say anything more but I understood that this was a partition that would remain in her mind. That Nesta would forever see herself as someone apart from her sisters.

"Is that why you never stepped out? Because our mother would've deemed it beneath her to toil for the family? And you're her daughter?" The words escaped me before I could filter them. I saw Nesta flinch. I knew I had struck well when she reacted and I did not like this. I did not like this conversation. Did not like that she was like this. Nesta would've done anything and everything for Elain and I but for Feyre, what was it?

I remembered all the times when we were young and Feyre used to look up to us. I spun my history lessons into stories and told my own version of it to put the younger ones to sleep while Nesta silently watched even though she pretended to be uninterested. Stories of kings and queens, princes and princesses and adventurers and treasure hoarders. Mythologies were the easiest to tell her.

Feyre learned words easily as she listened to my stories and Nesta's advanced speaking. Maybe that's why mother never realised she did not know how to write and read. And for a long time, I did not. Not until mother had passed. Feyre was friends with Elain in a way she never was with me. Friends who would run around the house together, paint together, garden together. To her I was an older sister, but Elain was a friend more than a sister. But Nesta?

For so long, I'd seen her hopefully look at Nesta for the love and companionship she received from us. She did pick up the fierceness from her but she never knew how to wield it. She learned it all on her own and while I was proud of her for being able to do everything on her own, why was she? Why was she the only one providing for us in a house with two more healthy women? Why was she the only one who could do anything and be useful in a house with two capable women?

I'd fed her false hopes during our childhood that Nesta would come around but I believed them to be true. I'd seen how Feyre, fascinated with the first set of paints, had created something and gift it to Nesta. The first of her creations was a gift to someone who simply took it, said her thanks and retired to her room impassively. Feyre did not know what it was called but she saw Nesta using something to mark the book from where she paused; a bookmark.

I saw Nesta keep that bookmark for years, not even allowing me to touch it. Elain did not know where that bookmark was from. The same went for her drawings. Every little scribble, Nesta kept them guarded in her drawers and never told Feyre. She never scolded Feyre for continuing to draw even when we had limited paper after losing our riches. She simply kept them when Feyre thought they were being burned to feed the fire in the cottage. Nesta was a woman of actions and words so why did she not act?

"We are our own person before we were her daughters." I twisted the doorknob to open the door to my room. The luxurious space greeted me with nothing but unfamiliarity. This was not home. "And you are no longer hers. No longer her daughter. I hope you come to accept it someday." I took a step but my other leg remained where it was. "You must apologise to Feyre for not stepping up. The both of you need to move past that."

I let the door slam behind me and began pacing the room. The fact remained that Nesta and Elain did nothing while father and I were physically incapable of going out. Feyre was the only one who did it. And I did not know why I kept defending both of them in my head. I removed the hair tie and enjoyed the feeling of my hair being free.

What did it mean to be an elder sibling? To step in for the younger ones? If that was the case, Nesta and I had done that many times before mother died. Things changed after that. Even then, I'd seen Nesta actively step in for Elain and in my sickness, for me but Feyre was someone she left behind.

I opened the closet wondering whether I needed to dress for the dinner or whether this gown would be appropriate enough. A silk gown of midnight blue grabbed my attention. I took it from where it hung and admired how it was more soft than the one I currently wore. I closed the door of the wardrobe and took the dress with me to the bathing chamber.

The bathtub sat there like the king in his kingdom. I looked away from it and stared at the mirror in front of me. A woman with incomparable beauty stared back but she was so confused. What good was flawless hair and skin and body when I could no longer identify myself? The woman in the mirror was an unfamiliar face. I was never this beautiful, never this healthy. This was definitely someone else.

This is not home. I wanted to cry at that.

The Cauldron had demanded far too much from me. It had exhausted me before I could leave its clutches. I felt it all over my body and I knew I was close to hyperventilating. I'll never return home. And all that pain. I would have died and yet, here I was.

What was the point of snapping at Nesta? We were here, no longer human. We could never return. And what was there for us in the land of the fae? There is nothing. This is not home. My home with my sisters and father. And when I inadvertently looked in the direction of the bathtub, I saw the Cauldron—black and cruel. I screamed in my head at myself to run away. But my legs, why weren't they moving? The Cauldron seemed to nearing me and I wanted to vanish into the shadows.

And as if my prayers were answered, the shadows emerged from behind like the waves of an ocean. I saw their reflection in the mirror and I crumbled as they embraced me and took me away. It was cold and calm. Only the wind remained for me to hear. I could not process anything but my own cries and tears. Where's my home? I screamed into the shadows and wailed. Tears had blurred my vision but I could see enough to identify that I was someplace dark. I sat down on the cold floor with my knees to my chest.

Home was Nesta's stubbornness, my father's hopes for tomorrow, Elain's smiles and Feyre's wildness. But I was somewhere where I could recognise none of my sisters. My stubborn sister had left everything to the youngest, who in turn lost a part of herself. My happy sister no longer smiled. And what was I?

I don’t know how long I was crying but a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the only source of warmth. It was a large hand and I looked back. There was no one. I could not see the hand on my shoulder but I could definitely feel it. It was still there. And the shadows retreated and I was on the bathroom floor with a worried Nesta in front of me. She saw me and was saying something. She hugged me and rocked me and I closed my eyes. It was when I could hear my surroundings that I dared to open my eyes. Nesta was crying as she held me.

I moved my hand, took her elbow and tried to remove it away from me. It was a heavy arm and my movement made her release me from my embrace to look at me. Her tears were flowing and she looked so worried. “Are you alright?” She grabbed my cheeks and inspected me. “Did something happen? Talk to me, dear.”

Nesta was never affectionate unless she was worried. And that she definitely was at the moment. “I’m fine.” I whispered.

I escaped her embrace and stood up. I had yet to wash my face and I did just that. I kept on gathering cold water in my hands and splashing it on my face until I felt content. I looked up at the mirror and saw someone who I was starting to recognise. Me. The broken me. I took the towel hanging nearby and dabbed my face with it. I had to change clothes. As I was removing my clothes, I heard her call my name.

"Come to me after you've spoken to Feyre." Nesta knew what I was talking about. I wore the midnight blue gown which exposed my neckline and clung loosely to my figure. My hair was in a bun but with a few stray curls escaping here and there. We stared at each other until I made the move to leave for dinner even though I did not know where it was going to.

I walked ahead. I could hear Nesta behind me but I descended the stairs and heard the noise coming from one of the floors. I followed the voices and halted. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that I will be dining with strangers. Even though I'd met a few of them and dined with the brothers before, that was back in my own home. I saw Feyre and her family and I felt like something was attacking me. Meeting her in-laws was not how I ever expected it to be but when I saw Feyre walking towards me, I realised that I did not recognise her at all. Where the hell was my sister and who was this woman?

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hearts1ckness · 1 year

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yes im a lesbian, yes i will kiss…*checks notes* asher, milo, sam, elliott, gavin, cam, vincent, william & guy on the lips. WHAT ABOUT IT.

#IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER #THOSE ARE MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FICTIONAL MEN LET ME KEEP THEM!!!!!#THEYRE HONORARY LESBIANS ITS OKAY #also the damn boys. i give them all smooches on the cheek <3 #redacted asmr

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strwberri-milk · 6 months

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hi!! bit of an odd ask this time, but i am in need of some comfort from the wonderful fictional men lol.

if you're comfortable, could you do dckz, alhaitham, and tighnari comforting an s/o going through some tough medical issues? i.e. body pains, medications, surgeries, etc.? (i promise im alright, just a bit banged up!!)

i hope you're having a good week and that your pillow is cold and bed comfy 💕💕 and drink water!!

honestly mood ive had a cough for like. three weeks now and ive also been relying on fictional man to make me feel better about it

Alhaitham and Tighnari especially are both going to be a little more analytical. Tighnari has some basis for medicine but Alhaitham's generalised knowledge gives him some feelers in the right direction to try and figure out what's wrong. To him, if he can understand what you're going through on an intellectual level then he can better help you feel better.

All of them are going to hold you to him, wanting to comfort you on an emotional level as well. He kisses the top of your head and reassures you that everything will be okay and you'll be in good hands. If you're really feeling stressed then he'll let you cry or ramble it all out, offering a compassionate ear as he strokes your back.

He'll also keep track of all of your medications, including any of the ones that are given to you to take as needed. Those ones he takes special consideration to remember what symptoms different ones are meant to manage so when you start feeling those symptoms he can get the right one for you.

He's also going to be there for as many of your appointments as possible, scheduling his commitments for his job around you and leaving early if you need his support. As far as he's concerned, your comfort and wellbeing are his utmost priority and if him being there will help then that means he'll be there for as long as you need him.

Recovery with him at your side is also great. He remembers every instruction the aftercare team gives him and makes sure that he's able to do anything and everything you need. You barely need to raise a pinky before he's off getting you whatever you need.

He also doesn't ever mind giving you massages or keeping you in his arms if it means helping soothe your pain. You're not sure if it's the medication or the fact that it's him here holding you that's making you feel better, but whatever it is it's working and you can't help but be relieved you have such a kind lover at your side to care for you.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #alhaitham x reader #tighnari x reader

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raisedbythetv89 · 1 month

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I just started watching White Collar for the first time and a realization about most male written and directed media smacked me DIRECTLY in the face which is that SO MUCH media written by a for men is genuinely just male nerd self insert, non-canon compliant, AU fan fiction??????

Like them writing and creating stories is just “ok so these guys are soooo smooth and well dressed and women just flock to them at every turn and they can get away with anything and everyone believes and supports them when they do mess up and everyone thinks they’re sooooo brilliant”

This media isn’t just portraying women “for the male gaze” it’s EVERYTHING. Everything in these stories is supporting and uplifting mens’ delusions about who they are, how they’re perceived, and how they should expect to be treated. Which is incredibly ironic because anytime media portrays women or the world in the female gaze in a more “in my ideal world things would be like this” instead of portraying us as nothing but weak, broken, unloved, traumatized, victims OR one dimensional sex symbols with no needs or emotions they’re screaming, crying, throwing up about how stupid and unrealistic the story is….

This explains SO MUCH about how male characters are handled in shows like Veronica Mars and Buffy. Even though they’re shows staring women all the “good guys” get the delusional self insert, y/n, AU fan fic treatment (Buffy still wants Angel in season 3 and Riley in season 6 even after everything they did and Xander is CONSTANTLY forgiven for all the atrocious shit he says and does and is wanted by all women besides Buffy. Veronica forgiving Duncan and getting back together with him and even CONSIDERING Piz could truly only be born from men being delusional AS FUCK. Writing how they want men to be treated by women rather than being based in reality and the woman having even an ounce of self respect.)

Which is why the “bad boys”, Logan and Spike are such better characters. They’re so much more realistic, they get held accountable by the women in their lives, have better growth and are just way more appealing and attractive because they’re not the walking embodiment of what MEN want men to be treated and act like.

Oh god this feels like such cursed knowledge to have like it’s important to see this media for what it really is but now watching it feels that much yuckier like finding the porn of someone you DO NOT LIKE but like their emotional porn “this is what life would be like in my fantasies” and they’re the fantasies of the grossest men alive 😭😭😭😭😭

Also it shows their emotional maturity like all of these things are what 13 year old boys fantasize about not actual mature, grown men….

Also just realized this is why the Star Wars sequels were so hated. It wasn’t just Rey being powerful and loved by her found family and Kylo. It was that the movies showed the reality of men like Kylo. They destroyed the male fantasy Darth Vader created. They aren’t super cool, powerful badasses. They’re extremely sad, broken, temper tantrum throwing lost little boys who just want love and acceptance but have lost the ability to accept it because of the dark side (aka the patriarchy) which is the reality and that made me SOOOOO ANGRY lololololololol and this is why Joss Whedon THOUGHT making Spike into a sad pathetic mama’s boy of a poet would make the audience not like him because that DOES work on misogynistic men who enjoy the male gaze but does NOT work and only humanizes and makes Spike even more complex and lovable to the female gaze 💀💀💀💀 oh good lord

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0lshadyl0 · 1 year

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Do you think asl would work well together or would it end up as disaster? ( can it be Yandere please )

I'll assume darling is female since you didn't specify

Are you really asking this question? With Ace, Sabo, and Luffy? Let's be honest, they have the best sibling relationship without sharing blood ties in the entire series (and other series... I don't know, it's not like I can afford to watch other animes, besides the rest of my free time I spend playing Genshin Impact), so if what you are looking for is a polyamorous relationship, either platonic or romantic (in the latter rule out Luffy because he can only be yandere platonic, I don't see in my head how this guy could feel romantic desires for someone, no, just not), ASL is your best bet

Now if we go to the dynamics of how the relationship would work, it will depend a lot on how it is formed and in what sense, for example, if it is a healthy platonic relationship between siblings (and in the specific case that it was formed when they were all children being slaughtered by Garp and his fists of love), then we would be seeing that they will treat you the same as Luffy, or in case you are younger than them, (Ace and Sabo), they will be a little more overprotective of you, if you are even younger than Luffy (or if you are female), in the beginning of your adventurous years you will not be alone, at least you will be in a pirate group under the command of Ace or Luffy, (Sabo does not count because we will presume him dead at that time), girls cannot go outside unsupervised sea, not with all those perverts sailing the seas in search of beautiful young and fertile girls (I see you Shanks, Mihwak, caesar, DOFLAMINGO) and all those old bastards who didn't get married in time and feel lonely and misunderstood since their children ignore them (kaido)

Now going to the field where the beautiful stops being so beautiful and love becomes sick:

Yandere ASL Platonic Polyamorous Relationship

• In this situation, I assure you that it is 100% Luffy's fault and his ability to make other platonic yanderes

• Any chance of forming a romantic relationship with Ace or Sabo dies if the first of these three you meet is Luffy.

• Because, if he says that you are brothers, my dear, you are family

• And no, they are not the type of family where the brothers want to marry each other (disgustingly cool in fiction but fucking disgusting if it is in real life, say no to incest, there are many fish in the sea and many 2D men/women to simp (Nico Robin, my love))

• Get ready to always be accompanied by one of them, privacy? what is that? is it eaten?

• Also keep in mind that you are Ace's emotional support every time he has his attacks of “I'm Roger's son, everyone hates me, I hate myself too”, I think, out of the three, it's him that you will spend more time

• Until Luffy comes to steal you because he found a new island with very cool animals and he wants to go on an adventure with you.

• Really the one who has to manage everything in the relationship and be 'the older brother' is Sabo

• Poor him, considering all the extra work he has as a revolutionary, now he also has to deal with the fact that his brothers don't want to share (Luffy is the most possessive of the three and the one who starts the fights)

• So when you get frustrated go with Sabo, you will have time for yourself while you are watched by the piercing eyes of the revolutionary

I will not speak more about this dynamic because the post will be longer than it already is, besides that it looks like another request that they made to me, I will delve into it more calmly in that future post

Yandere AS, Romantic Polyamorous relationship Platonic with L

• The way in which this relationship occurs, is by following certain rules that, first of all, is doing the opposite of the platonic relationship, in what sense? you may be asking me

• Simple, Luffy shouldn't meet you first.

• If you meet Luffy first it's game over, from now on you have three brothers, live with it

• You can have the opportunity to be Sabo's darling, be part of the revolutionaries, or he saving you from some injustice (he has a hero complex, it increases if you are a woman)

• With Ace you can find him on Whitebeard's ship (maybe being his daughter? A nurse? Marco's apprentice? (I would be, I don't hesitate) are you stupid or ridiculously strong enough to face the yonkou?, I don't know, you tell me) or literally on any random island that he visited while looking for Teach (or you guys met in Wano, the possibilities are limitless)

• Or in an invented scenario where we are all happy, Ace did not die in marineford and was reunited with his brother who he presumed dead in a tragicomic scene with many tears, emotions, and heartbreaking flashbacks

• In any case, the second rule is that Sabo and Ace must discover you at the same time, note that this is important because although neither of them is possessive, Sabo is a jealous person and although he would never do anything to hurt Ace, if he chooses you first, he won't share you, what Sabo will do is manipulate Ace into looking the other way while he stays with you

• Let's remember, Sabo is a manipulative and protective yandere, Ace is another protective yandere, but he is also delusional and that is what puts him at a disadvantage compared to Sabo who thinks with a cooler head

• So if you stick to these rules, congratulations, you now have two very hot boyfriends and an annoying brother-to-be who is going to irritate his older siblings because he wants to hang out with his brothers's girlfriend.

• Basically this relationship is based on Sabo having control of the dynamics between the four of you (distracting Luffy, keeping Ace stable and his delusions, keeping an eye on you, you know, everything a manipulator can control)

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