#I actually really liked it and I'm not even that into historical fiction

[uncanny-tranny]

Something kind of funny I never anticipated about crocheting with longer hair was pulling out a piece of my own hair out of my project that I somehow crocheted into it

[wonder-worker]

Any judgement on (Richard III)’s reign has to be seen as provisional. The critic of the reign only has to consider how the Tudors would now be regarded if Henry VII lost at Stoke, to realize the dangers of too many assumptions about the intractability of Richard’s problems. But it would be equally unrealistic to ignore Richard’s unpopularity altogether. The fact that he generated opposition among men with little material reason for dissent, and that the disaffection then continued to spread among his own associates, says something about what contemporaries regarded as the acceptable parameters of political behaviour. There is no doubt that Richard’s deposition of his nephews was profoundly shocking. To anyone who did not accept the pre-contract story, which was probably the majority of observers, the usurpation was an act of disloyalty. Gloucester, both as uncle and protector, was bound to uphold his nephew’s interests and his failure to do so was dishonourable. Of all medieval depositions, it was the only one which, with whatever justification, could most easily be seen as an act of naked self-aggrandizement.

It was also the first pre-emptive deposition in English history. This raised enormous problems. Deposition was always a last resort, even when it could be justified by the manifest failings of a corrupt or ineffective regime. How could one sanction its use as a first resort, to remove a king who had not only not done [nothing] wrong but had not yet done anything at all?

-Rosemary Horrox, Richard III: A Study of Service

[starswallowingsea]

continuing with kaikeyi and it is committing one of the worst sins of a historical fiction novel and i knowwwwwww its also fantasy but like. you don't have to put a modern lens on the oppression people face historically and point out every little thing and make your protagonist a perfect feminist in what is about. second century CE india. like i guess sure maybe she could have theoretically been thinking about womens rights and equity to men, especially thinking about lower class women & women who were born illegitimate, but i think her self centered nature as someone of noble birth would have made it more interesting to read especially since i'm on page 177, she's like 19 at most right now and keeps talking about how women are the most oppressed people ever and have nooooooo rights to do anything ever rather than try to find empowerment in her position or meaningfully examine the roles women play in society or how they might try to break out of those (or use them to their advantage). idk other books have done it better

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Been thinking about why the argument that OFMD is inherently a bad show because it's based on historical slaveowners so often feels disingenuous to me as a person of color.

HUGE disclaimer up front: if you don't wanna fuck with the show because of that premise right out the gate, that's 100% valid and I completely get that. I'm not talking about that. What I'm specifically talking about is White fandom people in particular who argue that OFMD must be "problematic" because of this, especially when they say this as some kind of virtue-signalling trying to win points in fandom wars, stuff like that.

My big thing is that the resemblance the characters in OFMD have to their real-world namesakes begins and ends with having the same name. The show feels more to me like it's playing with the vague myths around these names, not the people themselves. Can you make an argument that they should have come up with original characters instead? Sure, but let's be honest, even people who study the irl counterparts have very little knowledge of their actual lives, and the average person has all but none. To add to that, this show has absolutely zero interest in historical accuracy; the moment they cast a Jewish-Polynesian man as Blackbeard that became obvious. No one is saying the real-life Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet were good people, least of all the show itself; the point is that OFMD's versions are basically original characters already.

It always feels like an incredibly disingenuous claim to parallel the show to Hamilton, because Hamilton both did care about historical accuracy and also brought up the slave trade. Hamilton is uncomfortable for so many poc because it writes poc into the story of otherwise very faithfully portrayed racists, colonizers, and slaveowners and just handwaves the racism. In OFMD, racism exists, but the stance is always explicitly anti-racist and anti-colonialist in a way that is just so fun to see (whom among us has not wished to skin a racist with a snail fork?).

The other thing that sticks for me is...there's an appropriate amount of slavery I want to see in my romcoms, and that amount is none. I am so sick of historical fiction where Black characters are only there for trauma porn about the horrors of the slave trade. You can make a legitimate argument that OFMD is handwavey about the slave trade, but I'd argue that including discussion of the slave trade is something that should be done with such incredible care that it would leave us with a show that can't really be a comedy at all anymore. OFMD's characters of color are allowed to be nuanced, complex characters with their own emotions, and it's incredibly refreshing to see, and I'd much rather have that than yet another historical fiction show where the only characters of color are only there to make White audiences feel virtuous about how sad they feel for them.

In conclusion, I guess: every yt person who makes this argument to win points in a fandom war owes me and every other fan of color a million dollars

[marzipanandminutiae]

I've gotten some interesting responses to my post wondering if Um Actually 3 AM Is The REAL Time For Supernatural Occurrences was a traditional thing before I first noticed it in the creepypasta boom of the late 00s-2010s, as many of those creepypastas claimed. some of them along "guys. please. reading comprehension" lines, I admit

"Lots of cultures have a Witching Hour!" yes, true, but that's not 3 AM specifically. for a long time it was usually midnight, or an unspecified late night/wee hours of the morning period

"This author says 3 AM feels like depression or vice versa!" that is not about Spooky Things Happening; try again

"early Christian beliefs say-" "well, in traditional Japanese folklore-" sources??? (also from what I've seen while looking into this, the Hour of the Ox in historical Japanese timekeeping was between 1 AM and 3 AM- 3 AM specifically was the end of it, not the beginning. but it was a traditional time for curses)

A mention of 3 AM as a particularly bad time of night re: health, sleep, nightmares, etc. in Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962), which DOES seem reliable and close enough to what I'm talking about

Apparently the 1974 Amityville murders happened at 3 AM, and of course that house had a highly public (probably faked) haunting. So that could have contributed

I haven't yet found anything earlier than that Bradbury reference that SPECIFICALLY mentions 3 AM as a time when scary and/or supernatural things happen, WITH ACTUAL SOURCES

Interestingly, the Bradbury quote doesn't seem to refer back to an existing cultural belief in the idea of Evil 3 AM(TM). rather it's framed as the narrator's personal feelings around that particular time of night:

"Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams ... And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time." [I can't find any credible studies of this, for the record]

so it seems like the seeds of the idea were floating around in the cultural consciousness for a long time, between unspecified Witching Hours and the Hour of the Ox curses and this probably erroneous but popular belief that most people who die in hospitals do so at 3 AM. but as for the very strictly-defined notion that Supernatural Things Are Most Likely To Happen At 3 AM...the earliest anecdotal reference I saw to someone having heard that was from the 1980s, and it doesn't seem to have really entered the zeitgeist with force until the late 2000s, earliest

unless someone shows me a source on something earlier, that's what I'm going with

which leaves my takeaway, as a paranormal believer, being: there's nothing supernaturally special about 3 AM, unless it has individual significance to a specific entity or haunting (ie residual apparition of an event that took place at that time). it's something people came up with for interesting fiction, as a fresh take on the longstanding western idea that the Witching Hour is midnight, and not even that long ago

[tossawary]

A weirdly formative movie for me was "The Slipper and the Rose" (1976), which is a live-action movie adaptation of the Cinderella fairy tale set in some made-up European country. It is also a musical. I think it's fun and funny and sometimes quite sweet and I really like it as a comfort movie. It's kind of long and a little slow and old-fashioned and silly, and the ending is a little flat, but there are several songs that are just... about various logistical and humorous realities of being royalty... and I thought that was just fascinating as a young teenager who liked historical fantasy fiction.

(I excitedly tried to show it to a friend once and she was like, "WHAT am I watching?" She was bored during the dance sequences. It's quite different to the "(Rodgers and Hammerstein's) Cinderella" movie from 1997 starring Brandy. They're entirely different Cinderella musicals.)

The king and queen (and the dowager queen and the prince's cousin who will inherit if he doesn't marry) have a song sung to the prince called: "What Has Love Got To Do With Getting Married?"

The prince has a companion-at-arms (servant) named John and they have a really funny song together in the royal family's mausoleum, where the prince is like, "No matter what I do, I'm just going to end up buried next to these kings. Let me tell you all about how much they sucked as people." (It's called "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and it's probably my favorite song.)

The king and his ministers have a song all about the protocol for throwing a ball ("Protocoliogorically Correct"), because they don't want to offend anyone and accidentally start a war (again).

The prince's servant, John, is in love with Lady Caroline, who is the lady-in-waiting / companion to the dowager queen, but they can't get married because they're apparently too far apart in status. After the ball, when the prince is failing to find Cinderella, there's an entire song ("Position And Positioning") where John, the castle servants, and guards and civilians explain to the prince that there are ranks among servants and servants aren't as free to marry for love as the prince thinks they are. They even take the prince into the kitchens and are like, "Here are a bunch of other servants that you never see and barely knew existed, dude. They're going to do an extended dance number about this."

There are other musical numbers in this movie, including the romantic ("He/She Danced With Me") and heartbreaking ("Tell Him Anything") songs you would expect from a Cinderella story, but I mostly remember the humorous songs that actually engaged with the worldbuilding. I hadn't really seen a "fairy tale" movie do that before to that degree. (I'd seen books adapting fairy tales do it many times, but they don't have musical numbers.)

I think both "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and "Position And Positioning" are both worth watching by themselves, just for how unique they are among the many different Cinderella adaptations, and the movie clips are easy to find online. Go look them up if any of this sounds neat to you!

[ihavethedreamies]

Don't Poke the Bear | Jongho

Choi Jongho - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~7k 🫢 (over 2k of it is smut btw)

Pairing: Bear-Hybrid!Jongho x Fox-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweetheart, Sunshine, Precious, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Hickeys/Marking, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (M! Receiving), Deepthroating/Face-Fucking, Big Dick! Jongho (of course), Size Differences, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Cockbulge, Over-Stimulation, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…)

Trigger Warning: There is mentions of guns in this, but its just a revolver and the reader shoots it once at a target. That's it.

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but there is a mention of Jongho being an 'alpha'. They have animals ears and tails. Jongho is bigger here than he is in real life, probably about 6'5"/196 cm, since he's a bear hybrid. This is set in about Wild West times, so around 1830s, but it's not a Western themed story.

I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.

-> Series Hub <-

���� Hongjoong's 🦁

🐕 Yeosang's 🐕

🐯 San's 🐯

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

When your stomach groaned, again, you groaned back.

"Shut up, I'm looking." you told it. You got no response. Sighing deeply, you stumbled a bit on a root, catching yourself with a hand on the tree trunk. You had no idea why, but for the last two days, you hadn't been able to find any prey. Sniffing in distaste, you held up an arrow, looking at the completely clean arrowhead. Letting your arm down, the arrow laid at your side. You glanced down at your other slack arm, bow held in that hand. What's the point of having a weapon if there is nothing to kill to eat with it? You wondered what full foxes did when they couldn't find anything to eat. Starve? No, the probably moved on to a different area. A bit harder to do that when you had settled in the area nearly four months prior and had no intention of leaving. Your semi-permanent shelter was finally finished, nice and cozy, and you loved the area you were in. Normally it was simple to get food, just step outside your hut and shoot a hare out in the field. When you were not able to see anything, you instead would go deeper into the woods that your home lay at the edge of. But there was even less there, if it was possible. You were getting closer to the river, but you weren't very good at fishing. Hitting a rabbit or squirrel with an arrow is actually much easier than a fish. Might have to try though, since you had run out of food completely the day prior. It was late fall, getting closer to winter, and so there wasn't really anything to forage for either. Everything had been eaten by deer or other animals. Since you were hungry, so hungry, your steps were uneven and clumsy.

"Fuck!" Your long tail caught on the thorns of some bush, knocking you down to your knees. Yanking the appendage to free it, you yiped, looking back at the branches to see a tuft of rusty orange fur left behind. Running your hands over your tail, the spot wasn't noticeable, but it stung. Scratching the back of your ear at the top of your head, you got back up, continuing toward the water. You could hear the river water rushing over some rocks, most likely a short waterfall. Before you could even see the river though, you saw a building to your left. Getting closer, it was a fairly large shelter, much bigger and nicer than yours. An actual cabin rather than a weird cross between a tent and a hut. It was most likely older and whoever had built it also most likely had known what they were doing. What really caught your eye though, was the fish strung up on a line between two wooden poles. Your mouth watered, one of the giant salmon would easily feed you for a week if you cured it properly and rationed it. You felt your tail wag a bit at the thought and you eagerly stalked forward. The thought of who had caught the fish, and who the dwelling belonged to didn't even cross your mind, way too hungry.

"Come to mama~" You giggled and right when your long claw-like nails got close to pulling the fish off the line, someone grabbed the back of your shirt. Yelping in shock, you felt your feet leave the ground, just an inch or two, your captor easily lifting you. Your legs scrambled helplessly in the air as you floundered, hands going to grapple at the one holding you. The person lifted you even higher in retaliation and so you wiggled and squirmed harder.

"Let me go!" you shouted and that seemed to work, but then you landed hard on your butt.

"Ow, fuck!" You scrambled to get up and to your feet, spinning to see who the heck had grabbed you. What human was stupid enough to mess with a fox hybrid- Bear. Bear hybrid, that's who. Not a human. Your ears pressed back and down against your skull, tail tucking between your legs, no longer snapping back and forth. The male raised an eyebrow and you got a good look at his face. He was gorgeous. All of him, really, not just his face. That, though, very handsome. He was covered from the neck down in dark brown hide, the arms and collar of his jacket lined with thick fur. You didn't know if his pants were so tight from their cut or if his thighs were just that thick, and you honestly hoped for the latter…Or did you? He was thick with muscle all over. He shifted his stance, hands resting on his belt, standing over you, staring. The dominance emanating from him struck through you, and you weren't sure if you should feel scared or aroused. You had met bear hybrids before, that's not what was doing it, it was something from him. It made you wonder…

"A-are you an alpha or something?" you boldly asked. There were some predator hybrids that seemed to be more in touch with their animal nature than others, and he sure seemed like one of them.

"I'm not a canine." He spoke down to you, literally, he was fucking massive. The top of your head barely reached his chin.

"I-I know…"

"Only canines have alphas."

"Then what are you?" He scoffed at your brazen question.

"Why should I answer, vixen, when you came here to steal my food?" He started to walk toward you, so you pounced to the side, turning to keep your face toward him. You watched his hands go to the hook holding the salmon, taking it down off the line. Your tail whipped once, nervously, and you hoped he couldn't hear your heart pounding. You weren't sure how you felt about him, how to feel about how much bigger he was than you, stronger. He smelled so fucking good too-

"I-I'm hungry, okay?! I haven't had any meat in two days!" You tried to defend yourself, your voice cracking pitifully.

"You say that like you don't normally steal." His sneer was evident in his tone and you scoffed hard.

"I don't!"

"You're a fox, right?"

"Not all foxes steal! You big…brute!" He didn't respond, just walked around the pole holding one end of the line, toward the front of his cabin.

"H-hey!" You knew you should have taken the chance to flee, that would have been smart, but instead you trailed after him. Those fish looked too good, and you noticed he was easily carrying the string of five over his shoulder. His big boots thumped across the hard, cold ground, your much lighter feet barely making a sound. When you caught up to him, coming around the cabin, he was laying the fish down on a wooden table it looked like he might have made himself.

"D-do you cook them?" Your mouth watered. You preferred your meat cooked, that was probably the human part of you, but the fox part of you could eat raw if necessary.

"I-if…If I do something for you in return, can I have a fish?" you asked, stepping forward carefully, tail snapping behind you. You were pointing at the one you had been reaching for, which was the smallest one.

"What could you do for me, vixen?" He was standing back up again, hands on his belt. Why did he have to just stand like that? There was no need. Did he just stand like that normally? His question registered then, and your brain kicked into gear trying to think of an answer. You had offered help, but that didn't mean you knew what kind of help. That was his part of the exchange.

"What do you want me to do…he-bear?" For the life of you, you couldn't think then of what a male bear was called. He huffed at your attempt to match his confidence. Your eyes flitted to his chest, shirt struggling and stretching over his chest just from him breathing.

"Jongho."

"What?"

"My name. Please don’t ever call me 'he-bear' again."

"Oh…Jongho. Uh, I'm (Y/N)."

"Can you climb?"

"Climb?"

"Can you climb a tree?"

"Oh, yes." Your eyes followed his thumb when he jabbed it toward his left. You glanced around him toward where he was pointing, an apple tree. It was huge, you wondered how long it had been there.

"Go get as many as you can." He picked up a basket from under the table, easily chucking it toward you. You managed to catch it, maybe fumbled with it a bit, and headed over to the tree. Maybe you could grab a couple of them…

"Where did you get an apple tree?" You called behind you as you approached it, "aren't they normally in human areas?"

"I sell to humans."

"Sell? Sell what?" You wrapped your tail through the handle of the basket, curling it up to hold it up as you climbed up the tree. He was probably tall enough to get at the apples himself, but it would be easier to get them climbing.

"Furs. Wood and metal work." You sat on a branch, putting a narrow branch through the handle of the basket to hold it for you as you plucked a red fruit off a twig. It smelled so good, but he would notice if you took a bite. Dropping it into the basket, you continued, noticing which ones weren't quite ripe yet.

"Metal work?" You peered through the branches of the apple tree, noticing a side building right next to his cabin, a blacksmithing forge inside.

"Wait, you've worked with full humans?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen those little guns they carry? That don't need powder and a ball?" You had picked about ten apples by then, balancing on the branch to try and reach an eleventh. He didn't respond, so you glanced past the leaves to where he was at the table, and he went to a pouch on his belt. He opened it, pulling out a revolver.

"Woah!" You beamed in awe, not paying attention to where you where crawling on the branch. You yelped as it bowed under your weight, making you lose your balance. You closed your eyes, ready to fall. It wasn't too far, you wouldn't die, but it sure would hurt.

"Oof!" You did land on something hard, just not the ground. The wind got knocked out of you as you fell face down onto Jongho, middle on his shoulder. While you caught your breath, coughing a few times, he unlatched the basket and carried both you and it back over to the table. The basket was set on the end of the table and he then let you down to sit on the other end. Even up on the surface, you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. You rubbed your sore middle, though it was much less painful that it would have been to bellyflop onto the ground. The bear noticed your eyes flit to the little gun still on the table, and he sighed. Grabbing it, he popped the rotating barrel out, shaking the little bullets out, then handed you the unloaded gun. Taking it carefully with both hands, you were surprised at its weight. It was heavy for its size, but much lighter than a musket. He continued to work on the fish, cleaning them or something, eyeing you as you curiously looked at the revolver.

"Man, this would be so much easier to hunt with."

"It's different than aiming a bow." He scoffed, swiping the weapon back from you, reloading it.

"Show me?"

"You're awful demanding." Jongho scolded, holstering the gun back to his belt. You sniffed in disappointment, swinging your legs a bit from where you sat up on the table, watching him work.

"If I feed you, will you leave me be?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"No." You liked to be honest. He sighed, putting his thin knife down.

"I'll leave you be if you show me how to shoot it."

"Why does it matter if you don't have one yourself?" You shrugged in response. He couldn't decide if you were annoying or endearing. He stood up straight, stepping closer to you, so he was standing right before you. Your ears dropped a bit, tail lying flat from where it had been thumping on the wood softly. He was so freaking big. You felt a familiar twinge in your tummy, and your thighs clenched. His eyebrow raised, nostrils flaring slightly and your eyes widened in panic. Could he smell your arousal? So easily? The bear sighed deeply then, "Come here." He took the gun back out and you hopped off the table to follow him as he headed around a big tree. When you came around as well, you saw that there was a circle carved into another tree a bit in distance.

"Hold it up, arm straight out, level it. Then, line this little piece up with where you want to shoot." His thumb flicked at the sight piece.

"Pull the hammer back with your thumb, then press the trigger with your index finger. You'll have to press harder than you think." He snapped the barrel back out, rotated it to check the rounds, then snapped it back shut, handing it to you. You followed his instructions, keenly aware of him at your back. You stood much the same way you did for archery, but he corrected you. He brought his hand to your bicep, bringing it up so you gripped the gun with both hands instead. To compensate, you turned your body a bit more toward the target. You clicked the hammer back, that took more strength than you thought too, and wrapped your finger around the trigger. Breathing in, steadying your aim, you lined the sight up. As you breathed out, you pressed hard like he coached and the gun went off. It was so much louder than you expected, your ears flattening to your skull, body recoiling along with the weapon. You stumbled back into his solid chest, ears ringing painfully. You narrowed your vision toward the target. You didn't get a bullseye, but you did at least hit inside the target circle. That feat pulled your body out of shock from the loud bang and you beamed, cheering.

"I did it!" You jumped in excitement and he quickly took the still smoking gun from you. He holstered it once more and couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter as you cheered for yourself. Endearing, he decided, cute even.

~*~*~

"D-do I rotate it?" You looked over at him, sitting on a log bench by the fire pit. He had cleaned, filleted and skewered the salmon, letting the pieces roast by the fire. Jongho had set them in the dirt, skin facing the flames more, tilted toward the heat.

"It's fine." He had brought the basket of apples over and you watched him roll one in his hand. His eyes flicked to your face, wanting to see your reaction, as he gripped the fruit with both hands, splitting it perfectly in half with ease.

"Woah!" Your face lit up and he couldn't hold back a smug grin. Holding the two halves easily in one hand, he held it out for you, and you sprung to your feet from your own log bench. Skipping over, you took the two halves from him, the scent making your mouth water. Sinking your teeth into the flesh, you groaned in delight. You hadn't had the pleasure of eating an apple before. Crab apples, yes…but those are absolutely horrible. The bear could tell you were honest about being so hungry with how fast you devoured the fruit. When you were left with the two pieces of the core, you hiccupped. Your face grew more and more displeased with each hiccup, growing annoyed with the process.

"Geez." You breathed hard, trying to control your throat, but you hiccupped again, a slight pain blossoming in your chest.

"Fucking hell." You swore softly, then let out another hiccup.

"Geez!" You groaned, then your tummy rumbled, and a gas bubble erupted. You kept your mouth closed to muffle the noise, minding your manners, and the seizes stopped.

"Thank goodness." You sighed and Jongho couldn't help but chuckle. So cute. He was a little upset with how cute you were growing to him.

"What?" You whined a bit, feeling self-conscious.

"You're cute, vixen." Your tail snapped in embarrassment.

"I have a name." You corrected coyly, not able to look at him, face warming. You almost added on 'he-bear', but he had said please…

"(Y/N), you're cute." He fixed his compliment and you sniffed, secretly pleased.

"And?"

"And what?" You weren't sure what you were expecting, honestly.

"Uh…"

"Whatever, sweetheart." The little pet-name wasn't condescending or patronizing, and your entire body froze.

"D-don't." you whispered and he rose a brow in question, looking up from a second apple.

"Don't?"

"D-don't call me that…"

"Why not?" The bear smirked; you could see it from your peripheral. Your cheeks were quite red by that point. You didn't answer, focusing on watching your fish cook. He let it go, chuckling softly to himself.

~*~*~

"It's hot-" He warned, but it was too late. The hot fish stung your tongue, but you were much too hungry to care. Waving the skewer it was on, like that would cool it off, you blew hard on it a few times, then took another bite. You devoured the fish, much like the apple, he was surprised you ate the whole filet.

"T-Thank you." You wiped at your mouth with your forearm, handing the skewer back to him. He took the whittled bone from you and it seemed you were getting ready to leave, picking up your bow and quiver.

"You live nearby?"

"Oh, yeah, just a few meters that way." You waved in the general direction. The sun was setting by then, the cold setting in.

"In that half-tent?"

"It’s a hut!" You tried to defend your shelter since you built it yourself. He stood then, and you wondered what he was doing, coming toward you.

"There's a storm coming, I'll help you get your things, you can stay here tonight."

"A storm? Like snow? Already? Wait, what!?" He walked past you toward your home and you gaped after him like the fish you just ate. Shaking your head to gather your senses back, you trotted after him. You were a bit out of breath by the time you got to your dwelling, you couldn't even see the fire from his place.

"B-but this is where I live, I'll be okay!" You seemed to be trying to convince yourself of that as well.

"Get your stuff." He jerked his head toward your hut and you huffed but did so. If there really was a snowstorm coming, you would prefer the much sturdier and less drafty cabin he had. You were able to gather everything except the structure itself with his help and he went slower for you on the way back. You wondered how the heck you had never noticed his cabin before, but you also never went that far into the woods, let alone so close to the river. As you passed the cursed bush that tore a chunk of your fur out, you sneered down at it, wrapping your tail around your leg to keep it safe. You heard him huff out a laugh, and you glared at his rounded black ears, one of them flicking slightly. At first you were a bit ruffled by his suggestion, but you were growing grateful as some snowflakes started to fall. Plus, ultimately, he was being kind. You thought he was going to set you up in his smithing lean-to, or maybe even just under the shelter of the room over his porch. But he had opened the door to his cabin, bringing your stuff with him. The bear looked over his shoulder at you, waiting for you to follow. Once inside, you looked around. To your left was a table with a water jug and basin and to the right a large cedar chest. There was a sitting area with an actual couch and a fireplace. Right across from the door on the other end of the one-room cabin was the bed, big and with a mattress. It must really pay to trade with humans… You watched him set your belongings against the wall near the bed and you noticed a little side room.

"You have an attached outhouse?!" You gaped at the luxury and he hummed. Not really an outhouse if it was attached… You set your stuff you had carried next to his load and looked more around his home. The couch looked comfy, but you had little perspective, never having the luxury of sitting on one. It did beat sleeping on a bedroll, you assumed, and you were a bit worried that you wouldn't want to go back.

"I take up a lot of the bed, but you're tiny." His comment threw you out of your thoughts, nearly giving yourself whiplash with how hard you turned to look at him.

"W-what?"

"It's going to get really cold, even with the fire on. It'll be warmer." He stated and you realized he was right. Still, your insides flopped at the thought. It was hard enough being around him, and how good he smelled, let alone in a room that smelled mostly of him. Could you really handle sleeping next to him…just sleeping? You swallowed, you weren't due for a heat for a while, but he was extremely attractive. The fact that he was a bear should have lessened your desire, but no. The unfamiliar, the new experience, the size difference…

"What are you thinking about, sunshine?" Jongho had walked past you to shut the door, pulling out a small box. Matches. You had never seen them at work before, so you stepped closer, watching him scratch the little red end of the wood piece on the side of the box, flame erupting out of thin air. He lit the oil lamps he had, casting a soft warm glow around the room, seemingly right as the sun set beyond the horizon. You didn't make a comment on the little pet-name, though it wasn't much easier to process than 'sweetheart'.

"C-can't you just use my name?" You sniffed, moving around him to sit on the couch. The leather-covered cushion sunk under your butt and you let out a silent 'wow' at the plush feeling. The bear chuckled, moving around to join you on the couch. You scooted over to allow him room, he took up much more space than you. He rested back, arm slung to the side over the back, right behind you. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, knees wide, and he sat on the couch like he was a king on his throne. The confident dominance wafted over you again and your core pulsed. Biting your lip, you looked away from him quick, and Jongho smirked at your sudden rigid posture. He watched the tip of your tail as the end thumped lightly on the cushion. You squeaked when he carefully ran his fingers over the orange fur, right where you had a tuft ripped out.

"What happened?"

"You can notice it?" You whined, looking at the spot, trying to ignore that he was still touching your tail. His eyes flitted to your ear as it flicked in annoyance.

"It got snagged on some thorns earlier."

"Did it hurt?"

"Stung a bit…" You flinched when a sudden gust of wind rattled the door and shutters on the window. Your ears flicked when a distant rumbling travelled through the air.

"Thunder?" You could have sworn that's what you heard, but that would be weird. When it happened again though, it was confirmed.

"It can thunder in a snowstorm?" You wondered aloud and the bear hummed, fingers once again stroking over the fur of your tail. Goosebumps rose on your skin, the fur raising a bit along with it.

"I'm gonna use the outhouse!" You stood up quickly, pulling your tail out from under his hand and curling it toward yourself. As you did so, you could smell your own arousal, and hoped that since your pants would be back up, he wouldn't be able to as well. Going back into the house, you sighed at the warmth, he already had a fire going. It was rapidly getting cold and you could hear the wind whipping along with a low distant rumble. Despite the fire, you knew he was right about it getting pretty cold. Gently sitting on the edge of the mattress, you tried to ignore how soft it was, and took off your boots. Slipping off your vest, you climbed up further on the bed, bouncing a bit in delight.

"Move over, sunshine." He motioned for you to follow, since you were in the middle of the bed. You bounced on your butt to do so, too enamored with the mattress to really focus on him.

"Ah!" You squeaked when he wrapped his arm around you, lifting you with ease so he could pull the blankets out from under you and back. Your face was rapidly heating along with your lower stomach and you finally looked over him as he got in the bed. He had taken off his bear hide coat, leaving him in just a light brown henley shirt. The ends of the sleeves had been rolled up to rest right below his elbows and you marveled at the evident muscle there.

"Sleep, (Y/N)." Jongho had laid back, adjusting his head on the pillow and you slowly followed suit. You nearly moaned in delight at the feeling of the mattress cradling you, the pillow under your head just as soft. Yep, you never wanted to sleep on a bedroll again. You were startled out of your thoughts when he pulled the blankets up and over you, rolling onto his side so he could face you. He propped himself up on his palm, elbow to the bed, delicately resting the end of the blanket up near your chin. Your face burned hot, and you nestled into the bedding to hide.

"Th-thank you for letting me stay here for the storm…" You mumbled and he hummed, finally resting down himself, still facing you. When he pulled the blanket up and over himself, you felt the heat rapidly rise under the covers. You had never felt so warm and cozy in your life, and you suddenly felt your weariness. Blinking, trying to stay awake, you looked over his face, vision hazy from sleepiness. He was…

"So handsome." You muttered, barely registering you said it aloud, and he had heard it. The bear smirked at the compliment.

"Get some sleep, pretty girl." His clawed finger came up and brushed a strand of hair off your face and you couldn't help but follow his instruction.

~*~*~

Probably only an hour or two later, you were forced awake by a flash of light, a booming rumble, then the sound of wood snapping. You had rolled over onto your stomach, so you propped yourself up on your elbows underneath you. The blanket hung over your head, but you could see through the shutters of the window to the side of the bed. You had heard of a thundersnow before but had never experienced one. You shivered at the cool air hitting your face, it was so nice and warm under the blankets. Burrowing back under, you rolled to your side, facing the bear. You had nearly forgotten he was right there and you found your face right against his chest. It rose and fell as he slept, and you were a bit surprised he didn't snore, like…you know, like a bear.

Swallowing hard to steel your nerves for your next move, you slowly reached out, pressing your fingertips against the hard muscle of his chest. You shivered, wanting to feel over him more, see him…

"Haven't you heard not to poke a sleeping bear, sunshine?" His voice rumbling startled you. It was deep and rough from sleep and you rolled your eyes back a bit at how it made you feel, and his comment.

"Yeah, and?" You did it again, pressing just one finger against his chest that time, literally poking him. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Huh?" You felt the bed shift, and he rolled, propping himself up over you on his forearm, pinning you to the mattress. Your hands were clenched into fists at your chest, holding them close to you for security. His face was so close, and you could feel the breath leaving his nostrils. As he loomed over you, he shifted his knee up, his thick leg wedging between yours. You shivered, letting out a small whine when his thigh pressed against your mound. Jongho smirked, leaning down so his mouth was right by your ear.

"Your decision. See what poking a bear does." You loosened one fist, index finger sticking out, shaking. Poke. His large hands suddenly seized your hips, claws slightly digging into the flesh of your ass through your pants. With his grip, he pressed your core against his thigh, forcing you to grind over him. You sighed at the feeling; a bit of a whine laced through the exhale. He shifted his knee further forward and hauled you up so he could wedge it under your lower back. Jongho led you to wrap your legs around his middle, still pressing you down to grind your covered cunt on his upper thigh. That pulled a moan from you and you gasped hard when he started laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck and shoulder. A low rumble hit your ears and at first you thought it was more distant thunder, but then you could feel it as you pressed your hands to his chest. Your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and you moaned as his kisses turned to sucking, and he barely dug his sharp teeth into your shoulder. Without his, or your prompting, your hips jumped, and he pressed into your movement. The bear's cock was growing hard, and your eyes fluttered closed when you felt it. Could he even fit?

"Are you sure about this, sunshine?" He pulled away, smirking as he admired the growing bruises he created over your shoulders and neck.

"Yeah, why?" Your eyes met his as a bolt of lightning lit the room, then thunder rumbled, snow blowing harsh against the window.

"Think your little body can handle me?" Jongho tilted his head, that smirk still there and you purposely moved your hips, whining.

"Yes!"

"You sure?"

"Would you just fuck me already?" You nearly shouted. He didn't answer, but your next plea was silenced as he swallowed it, tongue easily wiggling its way into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as his hands dug into the flesh of your hips, avoiding using his claws too much. When your head started to swim, he pulled back from the kiss, smirking at the end of your tongue sticking out a bit from your mouth. One hand went to your jaw, thumb slipping into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked on it, tongue avoiding the sharp part of his claw.

"Want something else, sunshine?" Jongho grinned deviously as you nodded, whimpering. He got off of you then and you immediately missed not just the weight of him over you, but the heat his body was releasing. You just started in awe as he finally pulled the shirt off, and his muscle was clearly from strength, brute strength, not to look good. Though…he did.

"Hurry up, sunshine." His hand gripped over the bulge in his pants, and you rapidly sat up, your own hands going to the waist band. He watched calmly as you struggled to get the button undone and you bit your lip as you got his pants open. His hard cock nearly sprung out and you felt your mouth water at the sight, jaw already sore. Your long fluffy tail waved behind you, ears drooping as your small hand tried to wrap around his girth. Couldn't even get your fingers to touch and your cunt spasmed, telling you it was good and ready for him. Licking your lips to try and prevent the drool from dripping too bad, you stuck just the head in your mouth, tongue eagerly swirling. The salty drop of precum you tasted just fueled the fire and your eyes lazily flitted up to meet his. The look he gave you nearly made you whine; you didn’t know what bears called alphas, but he sure was one. Jongho's eyebrow crooked up, waiting boredly, and swallowed a few times, then eased him further in. It was a bit hard to keep your teeth behind your lips with how big his cock was, but he fit. The slight pressure from the sides of your long canines just added to the pleasure of your hot and wet mouth, drool already spilling from your lips. His eyes watched your tail wave back and forth, chest starting to rumble again as you took more of his cock. The head hit your throat, he was only about halfway in and you swallowed again, tongue eagerly slicking the underside of his dick. Your eyes met again and he barely seemed phased, so you sucked hard, your other hand joining the first to cover more of him. Bobbing your head, you hollowed your cheeks, whimpering at the taste of him. His large hand landed on your head, thump stroking the soft skin on the inside of your ear and you shifted your posture. Sitting back on your knees more, you widened your legs to lower you some, and let go with your hands.

"You sure, sunshine?" Jongho's smirk had come back and a full growl rumbled through the room when you nodded. Sucking air in harshly through your nose, swallowing to try and prevent your gags, he took charge, easing his cock in himself. When the fat head hit the back, he continued in, groaning as your eyes fluttered back. Your breathing was loud and fast, trying to take in enough air so when he finally filled your throat, you could hold your breath a bit. The spasms of your throat with your gags made him chuckle and he started to pump his hips, fucking his cock into your mouth. The slick sounds of your spit and lolling tongue were almost drowned out by the storm, but he could clearly hear your whines. He could feel them vibrating over his dick as well and he paid attention to your breathing and paced his thrusts.

"You thirsty, sunshine?" The bear laughed when your next whine was louder and he grunted, waiting for your breath. Once you had inhaled hard, he plunged in so your nose was pressed to his groin, hot thick spurts of cum going straight down your throat. Your cunt spasmed, slick dripping nearly through your pants, clit throbbing as you rode your high against the thick seam. Your vision started to blur, brain fogging, still swallowing over and over to get all he gave down, and he finally withdrew so you could suck in air. Your throat was raw, sore, but you would let him do it all over again and thank him for it too. Now that his high had faded, though his dick was still rock hard, he could smell the thick aroma of your arousal. You smelled like spring grass and fresh water, laced with the sweet scent of marigolds.

"Lay back, sunshine." He prompted and you flopped back onto your back, body shivering, though it wasn't clear from what. There was a dark stain on the crotch of your pants, he noticed as he took his off. You were hauled to sit up as he tugged at your shirt, tearing a few runs into it as he pulled it off of you and you squeaked as he wrestled your leather leggings off. They flopped onto the floor behind him and your scent had grown further, making his pupils narrow, brow furrowing. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders when he crawled over you, nose running up your throat. Jongho nearly roared as he growled, grasping your thighs, pulling back so he could manhandle you. Your knee ended up at your ear, the other looped over his elbow and your eyes could only focus on his fat cock head pressing against your folds.

"Fuck!" You threw back your head, back arching when he pressed in, not rough but not slow either. With all your strength, you lifted your head to watch your cunt flutter to accommodate the stretch, core burning. He realized then maybe he should have prepped you a bit, your pussy was so tight, that if you weren't so wet, he wouldn't be able to fill you so easily. You both, at the same moment, noticed that there was already a bulge forming from your stomach, his thick cock not even in all the way. You should have known the minute he kissed you before that you were ruined, but now it was for sure. You knew you would be sore in the morning too, but you would prefer being sore the rest of your life as his bed partner than to never fuck him again. His deep chuckle morphed into a grunt as he bottomed out, slick spilling from your stretching hole and onto the bed below. If he had known that you were only about a mile from his home, your cute little face and cute little pussy, he would have gone and found you himself.

"Jongho~" You nearly howled, hands reaching for him, out of his reach from sitting up straight. Adjusting your legs, while letting your core adjust to him, he pressed down close so your hands could find purchase on his back. Your ankles were at his ears, hot breath panting against his lips.

"You like my cock, precious?" The new pet-name was even worse than the others, and he could tell by how your gummy walls pulsed harder around him. His plush lips brushed over yours, then he felt you gasp into his mouth with the kiss, his groin pressing against your swollen clit. He watched your eyes glaze over, body falling limp as he pulled his hips back, giving a shallow and weak thrust, gaging if your body was ready.

"Too much?" The bear cooed when you shook your head no.

"More?" He prompted and that time, you shook your head yes. You should have guessed how powerful he could be, but you still weren't expecting the bed frame to crack against the wall with the first thrust. Your body screamed, but no sound left you as Jongho moved to press your knees to your ears, each deep, hard thrust forcing a tiny orgasm out of you. Your cunt burned from the stretch and stimulation, and your brain was fried. Good thing you were out in the woods with a storm raging, because you were squeaking and squealing, grunts and groans leaving him as well. Jongho rolled forward a bit more, hips barreling his cock down into your folded body, his thick claws leaving deep gouges into the wood as he gripped the headboard.

"Want my cum, precious? Huh, want my fat cock to fuck you stupid? Hm?" His tone was incredibly patronizing and it went straight to your cunt. You had left a puddle on the bedding beneath your hips and a mix of your drool and tears had left one on his pillow too. The cold from the snowstorm seemed to have been completely negated by the heat you felt, from him and because of him.

"Fill me, please! Jongho~" He wasn't sure why that time was different, the way you moaned his name, but it went to his head and his cock, orgasm hitting. Hot waves of cum filled you, the head of his dick pressed right against your cervix, so much slick and release squirting out from where you were connected. His hips continued to roll a bit, and you wondered how he was still so hard after pumping so much cum into you, and your poor pussy was stinging from the countless numbed of times he made you cum. You barely knew your name or where you were, let alone what you had let slip before.

"Like my big cock, precious?" The bear smirked when your droopy eyes flew open, ears flicking, tail started to thumb against the bed.

"You did good for me, sunshine." He was getting into it then, loving your reaction, face reddening further, cunt clenching around him more. It was like you were a dog, tail wagging for being a good girl. You yiped when he pulled out from you, the rapid loss took the air out of your lungs. He rolled you over and you couldn't hold yourself up at all, so only his hands on your hips kept them raised. You keened when the head of his messy cock met your equally messy folds once more and he didn't ease in that time. He somehow got even deeper, hips slapping against your ass so hard that you were sure the skin would be red and stinging soon. Your own claws gouged into the wood of the headboard, not able to do anything but take what he gave you, sweat coating both your bodies.

"Don't worry precious, I won't break you." The bear laughed, grinding his cock deep, as you came once more, the sting was fading into pain and you feared he could go much longer.

"Just. A. Bit. More." He grunted, chest rumbling and fell over the edge again, the heat inside you reignited as more hot white painted your core.

"Going to stay here with me? Be my cute little vixen?" His sudden question barely registered in your head, exhaustion taking over.

"Okay~"

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

ATEEZ Master List

Taglist: @thunderous-wolf

[o-solemioo]

Scenario: Reader is very popular with the boys and girls at forks high because he's even more beautiful than Rosalie and actually talks to people. It's Friday afternoon during lunch and all the Cullens (except reader) are at their table and see’s some random human confess to reader. Reader plays along to piss off Jasper because he didn't let him do whatever (you can pick what it was). Jasper gets jealous and pissed so he calls Carlisle and tells him to not come home until a while. He takes reader home and punishes him.

THIS ISNT MY RQ IT CAME FROM SUM1 ELSE BUT THE CREATOR DIDNT WRITE FOR TWILIGHT!

hi anon,

thanks for the ask! this will be more of a drabble, i haven't written smut in a while... but! i've been loving writing the past few days!! also, i'm not very good with sub!reader, so please forgive me if it's a tad awkward, i'm trying >-<

also, quick note, if all of you wouldn't mind reading this post, that would be lovely! just a little message (including a thing about kinktober ;D) so it would mean a lot if you would take a peek at it! thank you darlings x.

you are loved, ๏siris ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･

— you really got me

☾ pairing: jasper hale x male!reader ☾ summary: "little brat." or jasper doesn't like when you flirt with others, even if it's "just a joke." ☾ warnings: 2nd person (you), smut, porn and not a lot of plot, dom!jasper, bratty sub!reader, reader is a bit of a masochist for sure, jasper calls reader "pretty", edging, a bit of slapping (in a sexy way i promise), ruined orgasm, aftercare ofc, not proofread. ☾ w๏rd c๏unt: 872

—

To put it lightly, Jasper was pissed.

You two had gotten into a ridiculous argument about a book you had been reading on the Civil War. You had tried to tell Jasper that it was labelled "historical fiction" for a reason, but he wouldn't budge.

So, you weren't really talking to each other at the moment.

You had been enjoying your lunch, deciding to sit with Bella and her friends, because why not? They were nice people, as much as you were encouraged to stay away from them. Suddenly, Jessica chirped into your conversation.

"So... Do you have any plans this weekend?" You knew she meant it in a bit of a flirty way, but you were still mad at Jasper, so you gave in.

"No, I don't think I do." You replied sweetly, your voice dripping with a honey-like tone.

Jasper and his very good hearing did not like that.

When you arrived home that day, the house was empty. None of your vampiric 'siblings', no Carlisle, no Esme. You were confused until you heard a venomous voice behind you.

"So... going out with Jessica this weekend?" Jasper spat.

"It was a joke, Jas, learn to take one." You responded cheekily.

"Little brat." You wouldn't admit it, of course, but you were starting to get a bit excited. Jasper easily picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You playfully struggled in his grasp, both of you knowing that it didn't matter; you were obviously going to let him do whatever he wanted. You just liked messing with him.

He tossed you onto the bed that he didn't need, straddling you and ravenously attacking your neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh that would've left marks, had you any blood to bruise in the first place.

You whined as he ripped himself off of you, slipping your shirt over your head in one swift motion. Then his shirt was off. All of the sudden, he was toying with the button of your jeans.

"W-Why'd you stop?" You asked breathlessly.

"You know what I'm gonna do to you, right?" Jasper smirked. Of course you did.

"Yeah... will you hurry it up?" Why not push his buttons just a bit more? It was fun.

He pulled your pants and underwear down at a painstakingly slow pace, your already hard cock springing out. Jasper laughed.

"I haven't even done anything, pretty" He mumbled in that lovely southern drawl.

Without warning, he gripped the base of your cock and squeezed a bit, making you gasp. He relished in the noise and leaned forward to use his spit as lube. You held the bedsheets in your strong hands as he began to stroke you excruciatingly slowly.

"Come on, what's the hold up, Jas?" You huffed out, already bothered with what you knew was a punishment of sorts.

Jasper took that as a challenge. Out of nowhere, his hand began to move rapidly against your length, pulling gasps from you and making you squirm.

He refused to relent until those fateful words slipped from your mouth.

"Jas, Jasper... I'm gonna cum-" And his hand went still. You lolled your head back and let out a groan. Of course. You wouldn't get away that easily.

And when you finally felt half-yourself again. He just started back up. Your lungs began to burn as you writhed underneath him, letting out strangled moans as he abused your cock.

Again, you felt yourself close to your peak. "Please, please," You began to beg slightly. "Let me cum."

Nope. His hand was fully off of your dick this time; you tried to close your legs, searching for any sort of friction, but he forced them open, slapping the inside of your thigh harshly, drawing another moan and a smile from you. He knew you were liking this, of course you were.

This continued for a while. You would beg him to let you cum, and he would only pull his hand off of your aching length.

Finally, the half-hour mark hit and he decided he would be nice.

The next time you piped up with a "Please, please, Jas, baby, let me cum, please..." Your voice was hoarse and rough; yet you still asked with a small smile on your face.

"Okay, pretty. Cum." He commanded. It didn't take much else for you to reach your high, but the second your seed spilled from your cock, he pulled his hand off again, leaving you with nothing to guide you through your high. You bucked into the air a few times, crying out for any sense of relief, but he just smiled as he watched you toss and turn.

When you finally came down from your ruined euphoria, Jasper left the room for a moment, leaving you heaving and half-dazed. But he returned with a washcloth, cleaning up your now sensitive dick.

"Fuck." You sighed. "That was good, actually."

Jasper let out a hearty chuckle at your words. "You find anything good." He shook his head slightly.

"So do you forgive me now?" You smiled, still a bit dopey.

Jasper smiled. "Yes, pretty. I do." That pretty drawl could put you to sleep. You were just happy it all worked out.

—

damn, i'll be honest, i wasn't expecting that to be as easy to write as it was... again, quite drabbly, but i know a lot of people like shorter reads, so i hope this is alright :)

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

[ghelgheli]

sorry if you've already answered this but i just read your post about whipping girl and found it so so so insightful!! i was wondering if you have any other recommendations for books/articles/etc. about transmisogyny and the lives of tma people. thank you in advance!!

I'm glad it was helpful! this is the second ask on the subject I've let pile up, because I want to do my best with it but I'm also far from an expert. I think half the work of answering "transmisogyny syllabus" questions is explaining why it's so hard to do so in the first place.

one of the tools of hegemony is the epistemic violence it works against its subjects; this is essential to transmisogyny, thru which we have historically been rendered unable to so much as record our existence, let alone theorize from it. it is incredibly difficult for a tma person to access the institutional devices of knowledge-making, most of all the university. even when we do it is typically for the institutions we work under to shoehorn our work into the hegemonic model, stymieing actual progress. so theories and histories of transmisogyny have had to progress in a patchwork, often informal fashion, upstream and at personal risk. I am not going to be able to give you books that I would recommend without criticism, because the epistemic violence of transmisogyny has made it virtually impossible to write such a book. but with that said, here are some recommendations:

- this post multiplied my understanding of transmisogyny manifold, and was one of the most clarifying things I've read on the subject

- hands off our lives, our stories, and our bodies, is imo essential to anyone interested in a theory of transmisogyny that actually engages with its manifestations in the global south

- I enjoyed My Words to Victor Frankenstein above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage by Susan Stryker for the vibes

- two historical excavations of transmisogyny: Trans Misogyny in the Colonial Archive: Re-Membering Trans Feminine Life and Death in New Spain, 1604–1821 by Jamey Jesperson and ‘Selective Historians’: The Construction of Cisness in Byzantine and Byzantinist Texts by Ilya Maude

- Romancing the Transgender Native is good for learning the trappings of ahistorical and idealist "third gender" attributions

- especially (but not exclusively) if you are yourself a trans woman/transfem/tma, consider reading fiction by trans women/tma people, like Serious Weakness by Porpentine Charity Heartscape (check tws) or LOTE by Shola von Reinhold

- Jules Gill-Peterson's A Short History of Trans Misogyny is great for some case studies in global transmisogyny, and a decent materialist approach. but I think she makes the same mistake serano made re: equivocation of transmisogyny with the oppression of femininity, and she would have done well to read the second article on this list. her histories of the transgender child is also good, though not especially focussed on transmisogyny

- follow @ bloomfilters on twitter

if this looks like a hodgepodge that's because it is on account of what I said in the first two paragraphs. I am really not an expert and I am sure there are others who could give you much more. but to echo a friend, you may be just as likely to get something out of a game or a song written by a tma person as you are an essay. every medium can be an opportunity to plunge the roots of our theorizing deeper.

[dorlilymylovesss]

I want to speak out on a topic that has been really bothering and stressing me out. For several months now, Me and my friends who don't even ship jegulus, but are just Regulus fans have been harassed by Jily shippers. And not just with hateful words, but with specific accusations of fascism.

I want to start by saying that fandoms are a place where people can express their creativity and interpret characters as they like. Fanfics, art, and shippings are forms of self-expression, and they don't have to conform to canon. It allows us to look at characters from different angles, develop alternative plots, and create something new. And I don't judge or hate people for their favorite characters and ships.

I'm a huge Regulus fan even before the Jegulus ship came along. Regulus Black is a character I have a deep interest in for many reasons. Despite his limited appearance in the Harry Potter books, his story and character leave room for a lot of interpretation and thought. And I don't like it when people describe him as a regular Death Eater.

First, Jily fans often argue their dislike by saying that their ship is canonical( of course this is true and no one denies it) and James would never date a death eater. However, it should be remembered that fan art and shippings are inherently activities for the self and the soul. Even if a couple doesn't conform to "official" canon and never even met, it doesn't diminish the right of fans to create their own stories and interpretations.

Second Jegulus shippers are called misogynists.

But they may simply see these characters as interesting dynamics that catch their attention or interesting tropes that can be created. Choosing this ship doesn't necessarily mean they are intentionally excluding female characters and being negative towards them. Yes there are people among jegulus shippers who dislike Lily and exclude her from the story, but they are a minority. Plenty of jegulus shippers love Lily and also ship jily.

The charge of misogyny implies a conscious and systematic disregard for women or female characters. However, in most cases, Jegulus shippers simply enjoy a particular story or interaction between two male characters. This does not preclude an interest in or respect for female characters. Many shippers actively create and support content featuring female characters in other contexts or ships.

There is always a diversity of interests and preferences in fan circles. Not everyone likes the same characters or couples, and that's fine. However, to infer misogyny just based on someone's preference for a certain male couple without considering the overall context of a person's interests is wrong and unfair. Plus, I've seen thousands of Jily fans who were blatantly homophobic towards the marlily and pandalily enjoyers, and called James her only love, and erase her identity, leaving only her relationship with James.

Third, why calling the death eaters fascists is wrong and insulting to the actual victims of the tragedy.

Fascism as a political ideology and movement had specific historical roots and consequences, including brutal repression, genocide, and war. Death Eaters are fictional characters created by transphobic Rowling for a work of fiction, and their actions and motivations are part of a fictional universe.

Using historical examples of real-life suffering and tragedies to compare to fictional characters is disrespectful to those affected by real-life events. Historical tragedies such as the Holocaust require special respect and careful handling. And many Jewish content makers have already spoken out about it.

The kind of hate I've encountered as a Regulus fan is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. That being said, I've always loved jily, but after the hate, stupid accusations I've cooled off to them. You can't treat living people like that because of fictional characters. A lot of people don't care about canon written by a creepy transphobic woman, can you imagine?

Instead of wasting time on conflict and hate I suggest you create content on your favorite ships and leave other people alone. You have no idea how your hating can affect a person.

Not all shippers have the intention to demean or exclude other characters. Many of us simply love a particular dynamic and choose to explore it in our writing. This should not be taken as a threat or insult to other fans.

I love jegulus and jily, but my fav ship is dorlily and it saddens me that fans of the same fandom hate each other so much.

Not all shippers have the intent to demean or exclude other characters. Many of us simply love a particular dynamic and choose to explore it in our writing. This should not be taken as a threat or insult to other fans.

Leave other people alone. If u can't create content for your favorite ship and only can hate others its your f..king problem, it's unhealthy and childish.

I'm deeply sorry for jegulus artists and writers who got hate here and even death treats. I hope you will continue creating something that makes you happy.

[xanasaurusrex]

hi can u make some hcs of hecate’s cabin/childs?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ hecate cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

of course i can do hecate cabin headcanons! i love hecate, she's one of my favorite of the gods. also, fun fact, there's a lot of debate on where hecate originated, like they think that maybe she was an anatolian goddess that the greeks "stole," and she also has some egyptian history? i did some research on her real quick and it was honestly fascinating! anyways, here are the hecate cabin hcs!

something to note about hecate kids is that all of them, every single one, is kind of a mystery in their own respect

there's a lot of mystery surrounding hecate, so even the most open of hecate kids is going to have something they're keeping to themselves

hecate kids, specifically before they're kind of taught to master their abilities, have a habit of accidentally spelling people

like, for example, say a hecate kid has a really annoying kid in their bio class that won't shut up

if they think really hard about how much they want that person to shut their mouth, magically, they will

it's something they were never able to explain

until they were claimed by hecate, of course

they also all have dark eyes

not necessarily a good color, per se, but there's something about their eyes that are dark

most hecate kids get her green eyes, which could only be described as "enchanting" of course

the hecate cabin often smells like burned sage and/or incense, and always has a smoky hue because of that

there are star charts and moon charts and things like that literally everywhere, practically littering the cabin floor

hecate kids are kinda messy

all of them, just find it really hard to keep themselves organized enough to make the cabin organized enough

this gets them into trouble sometimes, but they have... ways of convincing whoever's inspecting the cabin to leave them alone

hecate kids also always have crystals in their pockets

like, literally, at any given time, with an outfit that has pockets, they have crystals that are used for different things in said pockets

they have necklaces and earrings and rings with crystals on them as well, all having different purposes based on what they want their day to be like

there are a few kids at camp who are like "crystals don't even work" and blah blah blah, but the hecate kids know better

the kids that say that are usually idiots, but yknow

(obviously i'm not saying that if you don't believe in crystals irl you're an idiot, but this is camp half-blood and their mother is hecate, so obviously they're gonna work for them)

hecate kids can sometimes be known as "two-faced" when it comes to relationships

this probably comes from the fact that their mother has three faces

except this is a more literal meaning in this sense

the hecate cabin also does a lot of tarot readings

that's like, one of the first things you learn at camp if you're claimed by hecate

everyone has their own deck, and it's customized to you, it's a whole thing

it's like hecate cabin culture kinda

if you have a hecate child friend, you've probably gotten your future read by them at one point

obviously future-telling is more an apollo cabin thing, so the predictions usually aren't correct, but it's fun anyways

ooh! and ouija boards

ouija boards with the hecate kids are so fun because they get so into it, and usually it's actually working and they're actually talking to a dead person

i mean, it's camp half-blood

probably a lot of people have died there (rip)

it's especially fun if they can manage to convince a hades child to play with them, because then the hades kid can actually hear them and help translate if the ouija boards are being kinda confusing

it's not the most reliable way to talk to a dead person, as any hades kid will tell you

hecate kids are also avid readers

not as consistent as athena kids, but they have their own little library in the hecate cabin, with lots of fantasy books and historical fiction

they're also really good with recommendations, so if you ever need a book rec, honestly go to the hecate kids first

they take your personality and reading background into account when giving you a book rec, and pretty much every time, whatever they recommend, you're actually going to enjoy

hecate kids also make the worst chariots

when they do the chariot race (i'm not sure if this is actually something they do on a regular basis, but they did it in one of the books in the original series so i'm going with it), and every cabin has to make their own chariot, hecate makes the worst chariots and get out first almost every time

honestly it doesn't really bother them anymore because they just genuinely have no idea how to make a good chariot

hecate isn't exactly known for her fighting abilities

usually in battle, the hecate kids stay as far away as possible and use their magic to help the fight

hecate kids are also criminally indecisive

they’re the masters of eenie meanie miny moe

they’re also known to have coins always rattling around in their pocket because sometimes they have to flip a coin to make a decision

they also have lots of magic 8 balls even though they know they’re faulty

(faulty, not fake 😉)

moving on

hecate kids also really like tim burton movies

it might have something to do with the fact that tim burton is a hecate child, but they also just really like the movies

they give off the same vibe

(there is a rumor at hecate cabin that tim burton used some hecate baby magic to make his movies)

only occasionally though

so yeah, that’s all i have for hecate kids

they’re all super unique and interesting

they are definitely sort of strange, but that’s what makes them so cool!

sorry if that was awkward i never know how to end these things

so that’s it for hecate cabin hcs! i had so much fun writing this, and thanks so much for the request! i just wanted to say thank you to everybody liking and following and reblogging for the support, this is already so fun! i have a couple requests for different cabin headcanons and that i haven’t been able to get to because ive had to rewrite this one about three times, which is kinda frustrating, but i love how that turned out! thanks sm for reading!

[70sscifiart]

The Last-Minute Sci-Fi Gift Guide

There's only one thing worse than procrastinating on getting gifts for your loved ones, and that's procrastinating on putting together a guide to help out everyone else with all those gifts. It's Dec 12, so you can decide for yourself which I'm doing.

Art book: Worlds Beyond Time, $32

If you follow this blog, you might have heard of this one. I published Worlds Beyond Time: Sci-Fi Art of the 1970s this year after five years of work on it, and I think it's really good! 400+ images, 100+ artists, with lots of fun art history and jokes.

Also, it's just $20 right now if you order through my publisher and use the code SKIPTHELINE! Cheapest it's ever been!

Card game: Coup, $14

In this "social deduction" card game, you play as a government official in a future dystopia who needs to backstab their way into power. Everyone starts out with just two cards in this bluffing game, so the tide can turn pretty quick when players start assassinating each other's cards. The fast pace makes it a good gift for someone who loves spies but thinks they don't like card games.

Game to play over Zoom: Bad Spaceships, $3

If a bluffing game stresses you out, try Bad Spaceships: It's a collaborative world-building game in which you roll dice to see what area of your spaceship connects to another, forcing you to spitball exactly why this is the case. As the game puts it, you might fix the hull by playing Tetris, or charge your weapons in the swimming pool. You're basically getting weird prompts to tell a story that can evolve over the course of the game.

It's such an indie game that it comes as PDFs you download from itch.io, but you can play it just as well over Zoom, if you're looking for an excuse to catch up with your old digital nomad college friend.

Movies/TV: Streaming service gift card

Gift cards are all well and good, but you can personalize them by recommending a few of your favorite shows as well. I suggest:

Hulu: Cowboy Bebop

Apple TV+: Severance

Criterion Channel: Ravenous, Paprika, Strange Days

Paramount+: Yellowjackets

Amazon Prime: The Devil's Hour

But to be honest, this entry is just an excuse to talk about the new Max show Scavenger’s Reign. Inspired by the work of French artist Moebius and with a clear debt to famed 70s animated film Fantastic Planet, this stylish sci-fi show features a bunch of humans trying to survive on a beautiful but hostile alien world. Perfect for lovers of fictional nature.

Vintage sci-fi

This Etsy shop has some good stuff, like the 1971 Frank Kelly Freas NASA poster above, a bit of history that I even mentioned on page 167 of my art book.

Penguin science fiction postcards, $28

These postcards have a ton of very cool sci-fi covers I've blogged in the past – great value if you want a lot of art for a low cost.

Meteorite pendant necklace, $34

I think we all know what kind of rock your loved ones need around their neck: A chunk of meteorite straight out of the 1576 Argentinan meteorite fall.

Book recs

For astronauts: Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, The New Guys: The Historic Class of Astronauts That Broke Barriers and Changed the Face of Space Travel by Meredith Bagby

For comedians: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir, Even Greater Mistakes: Short Stories by Charlie Jane Anders 

For sleuths: Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, Drunk on All Your Strange New Words by Eddie Robson

For crafters: Knits of Tomorrow: Toys and Accessories for your Retro-Future Needs

For the resistance fighters: The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

For slasher movie fans: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

Syd Mead "Biomorph Vehicle" button down shirt, $49

T-shirts aren't classy enough for the world's coolest visual futurist, Syd Mead. I haven't actually bought this incredibly odd shirt, but I really need to.

Art prints (and more) from 70s sci-fi artists

Artist shops can be surprisingly hard to track down on the internet, but here's a short list of ones I've come across. All of these artists are featured in my book (except one), so you can read up on them before you commit to a print.

Michael Whelan 

John Harris

Syd Mead

Don Maitz

David B Mattingly

Peter Andrew Jones - Jones was one of just a few artists who declined to be included in my art book, but he has a distinct, colorful style that I would have loved to have featured!

Finally, here's one extra bonus, just for everyone who made it to the end of this article: The UK-based educational charity Centre for Computing History sells three big officially licensed John Harris posters featuring these three artworks, famous for their use as covers for Sinclair programming manuals.

It's a great deal that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, and Harris' work has a timeless quality that makes it great for an unassuming wall decoration. If you're outside the UK, the shipping costs will be a pain, but there's no better deal for a classic sci-fi poster.

[mimicofmodes]

I saw a post going around about costube historians analyzing period film costumes for accuracy and it kind of got under my skin, so I'm sitting down and writing ... not exactly a response to it, but a discussion of the topic.

(It would be a direct response except that I don't actually watch costube, because quite frankly I can't watch/listen to people discuss things I already know. And I don't want to be like "they don't do X!" when maybe they really do X and I'm just not aware. But a lot of the complaints hit the same points that have been brought up against fashion historians for reviewing costumes for decades. I would also note that I have looked into specific videos where there were claims of terrible costuber behavior and watched them and found nothing.)

If you're going to analyze a period film's costuming in any way, you should still interact with the historical aspect to some degree. If you want to talk about the use of bold stripes in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, for instance, and you don't mention that they were in style during the period the film appears to be set in, it's kind of weird.

Likewise, yes, if you're critiquing primarily from the angle of historical accuracy, you should also engage to at least some extent with the reasoning behind the inaccuracy. If a reviewer doesn't do so at all, then yes, their review is probably not as good as it could be.

People pointing out an inaccuracy (or many inaccuracies) are not inherently scolding the costume designer. Even if their tone is something other than sweet. Sometimes they are scolding other people involved in the production, like the director who mandated a particular costume, or just a general notion of TPTB. Usually they are divorcing the art from the artist, though, and just reviewing the costuming from their particular viewpoint and knowledge base for a likeminded audience.

Sometimes, yes, they are complaining directly about the costume designer. This is not a crime. Some costume designers (for instance, Sandy Powell) have an incredible grasp on fashion history and excellent taste when it comes to diverging from it. Others simply don't have as in-depth of an understanding and make design decisions sometimes based on stereotypes and myths. Some costume designers will explain their decisions in interviews or blog posts and make it clear that they didn't make a truly informed decision about accuracy because they didn't know enough about the period. It's important for both sides of the equation to stop painting the other with too broad of a brush ("ivory-tower elitists who have no idea of a production's needs or budget" vs. "costumers who know how to sew but not how to do historical research").

If you're allowed to complain about a writer or a director or an actor doing something you don't like in a movie, you're also allowed to complain about a costume designer. You're allowed to have aesthetic preferences, and even to talk about them without hedging every five seconds to make it clear that others can disagree, although some of this is beneficial with any critique. Why would it be otherwise?

This seems really obvious to me, but maybe it's not? But "they costumed that female actor in an anachronistically sexy way because sex sells" is a feminist issue. The assumption that women's bodies should be sites of less-clothed allure while men's should attract by being more covered (with more layers than in modern dress, with cravats, etc.) is sexist. Complaints about female characters being costumed inaccurately are often being made along these lines, and pointing out that the producers insisted on it or something does not mean it's suddenly unproblematic that every female character deemed fuckable has to have low necklines at all times and modern shiny hair.

It's true that fiction isn't non-fiction and shouldn't be taken that way, but it's also demonstrably true that viewers do take cliches in film aesthetics as accurate when they see them enough times. People cite Scarlett O'Hara's 18" waist. They believe there were no bright colors before the 1920s and that women couldn't have put their hair up unless they were wealthy. These beliefs have consequences when it comes to public perceptions of history, and if films perpetuate them it's perfectly reasonable to point out that they support ideas about e.g. gender roles that trads express today.

It's also simply funny when a film's hair or costuming or makeup is supposed to evoke a lack of artifice but actually requires quite a bit of artifice because people don't naturally have perfect hair and skin and so on.

If you don't like reviews of period films that focus on the accuracy of the costuming, maybe ... don't watch/read reviews by fashion historians and historical costumers? At least unless they're vetted for you by someone who doesn't mind that?

[topazadine]

Okay, okay, here's perhaps my spiciest and most controversial take yet.

Now, before I even say anything, please note that I am talking specifically about fantasy. Not retellings of myths, not historical fiction set in different countries, nothing like that. This is for second-world fantasy, where you're creating a whole different world.

Ready?

Stop making everything so damn complicated!

This is not to say that you can't have a rich and exciting world filled with lore, religion, different societies, traditions, unique geographies. Not that. Of course we want that: it's the whole reason we read fantasy. I'm talking about something else.

This is my simple takedown, and you can read the rest to better understand what I mean:

Stop jamming your story with five billion weird words.

Don't use super complicated nouns.

Keep the characters to a minimum so we can know and like them.

Don't yammer on about all the backstory.

Stop making readers do homework just to understand things.

Focus on the feeling a story gives instead of the intricate worldbuilding.

And lastly, a pre-emptive note to those who are putting their hackles up and telling me why they are an exception.

Why is it important to keep things simple?

A lot of people shy away from fantasy because they assume that every fantasy story is going to be so complicated that their head will hurt. Not in terms of plot - many people like complicated plots - but in terms of terminology and history. Things that ultimately don't really matter to the plot.

We as writers often assume that everyone cares about our story as much as we do and is equally captivated by every detail. This is simply not true.

To your reader, your story is not their life's work: it is entertainment that they want to be able to enjoy at their leisure. It's a distraction from their difficult lives and all their real-world frustrations. If they get really into it and, say, write fanfic or whatever, that's amazing! But they're not likely to do that if they feel like they'll be jumped on for doing something wrong or that they have to include every single little detail.

For example, I wrote over 1 million words of Touken Ranbu fanfic. Touken Ranbu, at its heart, has a very simple premise: you've got a bunch of legendary swords that were turned into hot men and fight evil time-traveling monsters. You can understand it with just that. There are layers to it, though, that you can slowly untangle. That makes for good writing because it works on multiple levels depending on how much you care about it.

I would have given up on the story if I felt like I needed a dictionary just to understand the plot. Most people would. Language needs to be accessible and premises need to be clear, or no one is going to want to go deeper.

Subtle little details that people can pick up are way more enjoyable than tossing every single factoid at people so that they feel overwhelmed and can't think. It's wonderful to have rich layers of symbolism, mythology, etc. That's excellent. But you can only get people to care about those things if they can actually comprehend your damn story.

A lot of the things that turn people off from fantasy are all about a writer's ego, and it oozes through the work. People can tell that you're wanting them to pat you on the back for putting so much shit in your story. It's annoying and a total turn-off when you make readers work so hard to comprehend what you're saying.

So what exactly am I talking about? This.

Using made-up terms for everything that could easily be explained with a normal English word

When I am writing fantasy, I imagine myself as a translator. After all, my made-up societies have their own made-up language (Seinish) that is referenced a few times.

However, I'm not using Seinish words all the time. I'm writing in English. I didn't write out a Seinish dictionary or even come up with most of the terms because, honestly? Most readers don't care. They want to understand what's going on in as simple of terms as possible, with only a few specific terms that remind us that we're somewhere different.

I may use some specialized terminology, but it's always couched in context clues that make us aware of what it is without actually having to just say "sdlkjfslkdjf, also known as a marketplace."

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, the High Poet Society has religious centers called meronyms. (Which actually isn't a made-up word.) We know they're religious centers because we see all the religious leaders living there. Someone sees the term "meronym" and goes "oh yeah, that's the religious place" and moves on.

It's one of the only confusing, specialized terms in the book other than place names, which people expect whenever they're reading fantasy. Because of that, it stands out and is easy to remember. It's not one of 1029310283012830132 different terms someone has to remember in order to follow along.

Even Tolkien, famed for literally writing an entire extra book full of lore for his stories, doesn't really use that much specialized terminology except for place names. My favorite author, China Mieville, only uses specialized terminology for things that have absolutely no basis in our reality and that can't be explained otherwise. And he's an extremely eloquent guy who uses the weirdest words possible whenever he can. If he can write a book that's mostly comprehensible without a cheat sheet, you can too.

If there is an English term for what you are trying to explain, just use that, for the love of god. The point of writing a story is not to show how smart and special you are: it is to tell a story. You need to remove as many barriers to access as possible.

Things that get a pass and can be made up most, if not all, of the time:

Place names (as in specific places, not categories of things)

Peoples' names

Languages

Species that don't exist in our world

Modes of transportation that don't exist in our world

Magic that can't be explained in any other way

Technology that can't be defined by our language

Look, if you have an animal that is basically a dragon, just call it a dragon. If you've got a wheeled carriage, call it a carriage. Call earth magic something based in earth terms, like "terravitae" or something, idk. There should be some connection to our world in your terminology because you are writing this in English for an English-speaking audience.

It doesn't make you a lazy writer, it makes you one that wants people to understand what you're talking about. Again, imagining yourself as a translator is a good way to keep yourself from going ham on the nouns.

Proper nouns that are way too complicated

Let's look at some well-known proper nouns from fantasy.

Middle Earth

Narnia

Earthsea

Discworld

Westeros

Ankh-Morpork

Bas-Lag

Wonderland

They're all ... simple. They're not a million syllables with weird intonations and accents and all that. If you showed this to a medieval peasant, they'd probably be able to pronounce them and would likely understand that they were place names.

Unless there's a good reason to have a weird name, don't use one. Come up with something simpler.

All of these I mentioned are three syllables or less, making them easier to remember. In fact, I'd argue that nearly every proper noun in your book should be no more than three syllables. Maybe one or two four-syllable ones.

Any very weird name should be balanced out by several easier ones so that it stands out.

40 million characters

Younger writers often want their world to feel very lived in, so they introduce dozens of characters with their own names, descriptions, backstories, etc etc etc. The problem is that this is a huge mental load on your reader, especially if a lot of the characters have very similar names. It makes reading your stuff into a chore rather than an enjoyable experience.

Now, some literary greats do have a lot of characters. But they get away with it because they're great.

I'm not great, so I don't do that.

I'd also suggest that you don't do that, regardless of how good you think you are.

To see if you have too many chracters, write out a dramatis personnae and rank it in terms of importance. Does your top tier have like 15 characters? Cut some. Figure out where they are in the story and if they don't exist for more than a few pages, delete them. Absorb them into someone else.

If a character is only in one scene, don't bother naming them. They don't matter enough. This reduces the cognitive load for your reader because they can see that character for what they are: a background person who exists only briefly.

Any time you name a character, they need to have deep plot relevance. The more unusual your character's name, the more important they should be. And they should have some sort of relationship to another character, preferably the main character. Otherwise, why are they there? Why do we care? Go away!

Way too much backstory

I am an adult and my brain is filled with 50 million other things. I have to remember stuff for my job, I have a to-do list, I have family I care about who needs me.

Your story is not the end-all be-all of my existence. Hell, my story is not the end-all be-all of my existence either. I want to be able to pick up your book, understand what's going on, and then delve a bit deeper or even make up my own headcanons.

I do not need the entirety of your story's world thrown at me right off the bat. It is overwhelming and tiring. Imagine if you visited a different country and someone immediately came up to you and started spewing the whole history of the country right after you stepped off the plane. That's what you're doing to your readers!

Think also about how you approach your everyday world. Do you reel off a million facts about your personal history the instant you meet someone? No, of course not. It'd be weird and creepy.

Are you constantly recalling facts about your city while walking down the street? Do you even know any major facts about your city? You probably know a few little trivia points and that's it. Because it's not relevant to you, and it's not relevant to your readers, either. I can't recall off the top of my head when Cleveland was settled, but I can tell you that we have the world's first Dunkleosteus fossil in our museum, because that is interesting to me. That's the kind of thing that makes a place feel lived-in, not four hundred thousand pages of exposition about the place's history.

Give your readers time to settle in, and reveal things slowly as they make sense. Maybe we hear a little bit about the country's government as they pass a parliament house, or because they have to visit the city center for a different reason. If it's not pertinent to the current scene, then don't put it there.

I've got tons of lore for my world. Some of it may be referenced one singular time, and some of it may be never referenced at all. That's okay, because it's just for me to get a better sense of the place I created. If a reader doesn't need it, then I don't bother putting it in, because it might detract from their enjoyment.

Overall: stop making your readers do homework!

We do not want our readers to feel like they are working when they are reading our stuff. Excellent writers can infuse deep themes and symbology into their stories without making it feel like work. These are the writers who are remembered forever, because not only have they made a good story that you can enjoy at a surface level, but they have also twined in deeper themes that you can dive into after you've digested the story.

I did my undergrad in British literature, so I read a lot of Shakespeare and contemporaneous authors. Shakespeare is considered complicated by modern standards because of the Elizabethan language, but if you translated it into modern terms, his stories are simple. People betray each other and stab each other, or fuck each other, or get transported to weird magical worlds.

You could watch a Shakespeare play and think absolutely nothing of the themes, but still enjoy the story. You could know absolutely nothing about Greek history and still get the gist.

This is because Shakespeare specifically wrote his plays to appeal to a mass audience. He was a god-tier author when it came to balancing symbology and plot. To be like Shakespeare, be simple. Remember that your reader does. not. really. care. all that much. They don't.

It's very unlikely that your writing is going to become someone's life's work and they're going to spend their whole existence studying. Cool if true, but unlikely.

Your job is to make a story that people like and want to read. Only when you've gotten people liking and reading do you get permission to go ham with the backstory and the characterization and the weird names, because they trust you to create a story that they will like. Otherwise, your primary objective is making people feel things so they want to feel more things and read more stories.

People care more about how a story makes them feel than the specifics

Yes, of course there are outliers to this who really want every single detail of the world, but those are few and far between. You should not tailor your story to these exceptions. Think about the average everyday person.

I have many books that I love, but I can't tell you everything about them now. I can, however, tell you how I felt when I was reading them: the plot twists that made me gasp, the thing that made me cry. I can give you a general, sweeping impression of whether I liked or disliked the story and what made me feel something. This is what people recommend books based on: how they felt.

Your story should focus on the plot and the emotion. People watch movies, listen to music, read books, or look at art to feel something, not to memorize factoids for later usage. Even if they do want to memorize factoids, they won't do that if they haven't built an emotional connection to the story.

While in life, we want facts over feelings, it's opposite in creative writing. We want feelings over facts. The emotional resonance, the mood, the characters, the plot: that is what is important, not showing off how smart you are and how much you have thought about your story.

"But Topazadine, I am special and different! I'm not going to follow your advice."

Sure. Go ahead. I can't stop you. If you want to have a million characters and an entire dictionary to explain everything, that is your choice.

No one can tell you how to write; my advice is just advice.

If you don't like what I have said here, then feel free to ignore it. You don't need to justify it to me or anyone else.

However, you must recognize that this may not resonate with readers. It will turn people off.

I'm not a completionist, and neither are many others; they'll roll their eyes and click out when they are faced with ten pages of character names upfront.

Of course you should always write for yourself first, but if you are planning to write fiction for any level of commercial appeal and you intend to make any amount of money on your work, then audience does matter. If you want kudos or comments on your AU, audience matters. You won't get engagement if you are alienating people.

Your writing decisions are always your own and no one can demand you do something different. You just need to decide whether your personal satisfaction in writing your story in a certain way outweighs your desire for validation, and, perhaps, money. I can't tell you the answer for that; it's up to you.

If you enjoyed this, maybe you'll consider reading my fantasy book, 9 Years Yearning, which does not have 121238103 characters and 3230123 strange words. It does, however, have double-tsundere-mutual-pining-gay-boy-awakening. And horses. It's also just $3.