#and apply our own ideas to these figures and take it as fact that it becomes problematic

[z-eusie]

I think there will always be a difference to me between the Gods (historical, religious) and the gods (narrative). on one hand I fully acknowledge that gods are a product of their time period, of the historical, cultural, and religious context of their era and that it can be irresponsible to assign morality or personality to them outside of that context. I acknowledge that the gods are powerful, significant deities upon whom my own 'silly headcanons' have no merit. the gods in their original context are beings I would never claim to understand or represent in any way resembling accuracy.

but I think the gods in a narrative context, as representations of concepts, as representations of important lessons and 'archetypes' (in a manner of speaking) are completely different. these are the versions I play around with, the ones I assign a level of humanity that might be unbecoming of their true selves. narratively, I'm going to write the gods in my own context, with human values and experiences. it's not meant to be a true representation of the gods in their original contexts.

I think it's important to acknowledge a) why these figures are significant and where that comes from, but also to b) find ways to connect to them on our own terms. and I do that by writing them in my little stories, portraying the humanity of them in every way I think they could be capable of.

[thethingything]

I need to call our dentist today because we're back to pretty much unmanageable levels of pain, but also our gums are swollen and that side of our face is hot to the touch and our mouth keeps tasting really bad so clearly there's something very wrong

[worfsbarmitzvah]

I've thought about how gentile Abrahamic religions are antisemitic religious colonialism before and it pisses me off a ton and I'm thankful you said it, but now that it's someone besides me saying it, I'm gonna give some criticism (please don't take this personally)

Everything up to Abraham (particularly Adam and Noah) have G-d creating and tending to the entirety of humanity, right?

During Abraham's time, it should stand for something that G-d tends to Hagar and Ishmael, right? Especially since Hagar gives her own name for G-d and He makes a promise to Ishmael that he'll be the father of nations (or something like that). And I think the Prophet Muhammad is supposed to be descended from Ishmael.

And Noahides are a whole Thing in all this too ofc.

But the bigger thing is there are definitely texts and interpretations that take G-d being the G-d of the Hebrews and extend it to Henotheism, but for the Jews who are purely monotheists and say there is truly only one G-d in existence and He belongs only to us, isn't it cruel to totally deny the vast majority of humanity the Divine, especially if He is still their Creator and controls the world(s) they live in?

this whole thing is coming from the assumption that judaism was always monotheistic. it wasn’t. at one point in time we were monolatrous, meaning we only worshipped one g-d but didn’t deny the existence of others. hell, the language used in the torah supports this (the way the text treats egypt’s g-ds being perhaps the most prominent example). hashem has always been our specific g-d, since before the idea emerged that he is the only g-d. our/the world’s perception of him may have since evolved into this idea of one singular deity, but it has not always been that way.

hagar and ishmael still come from our mythology surrounding our particular g-d. the idea then emerged in islam, which was born with the same jewish roots that christianity was, that muslims were descended from ishmael. and, like, i don’t really mind or care about that either way. ishmael’s not a super major figure in our folklore. the story, along others in breishit, genuinely does lend itself to the idea that hashem can be the guardian of many different peoples, families, and nations. and to tell the truth i don’t genuinely have much of a problem with sharing some folklore and roots.

but it NEEDS to be acknowledged where those roots come from. for so much of history, right up until today, christians and muslims have pretended they know our g-d and our folklore and our history better than we do. they have MURDERED us for worshipping our g-d and practicing our customs in OUR way, the way we have been since before their religions and cultures emerged. if the religions that find their roots in our culture were more willing to listen to us, respect us, and learn from us, maybe i’d be less angry. but they’re not. they’ve tried and tried and tried to eradicate us and erase where they came from and make our stuff theirs. i don’t think it has to be like that forever but i don’t think we’re very close to it not being like that as of now.

also, i can’t think of a single cultural mythology that doesn’t have a creation story of some kind. it’s just the kind of thing that societies do when they try to make sense of their place in the grand scheme. the fact that we believe our g-d created the entire world does not actually mean that that story or that g-d belongs to the entire world. the fact that everybody thinks our creation myth applies to and belongs to them is just more evidence of how widely our culture has been co-opted.

there’s nothing we can do to change the fact that our g-d has been made universal (either through the natural evolution of our theology or from colonialism and cultural theft, more likely a combination of both) and i have to be fine with that. sure, fine, the people who have adopted our g-d as their own without actually bothering to understand us at all can outnumber us by orders of magnitude.

but why does our holy city have to also be their holy city? the christians have the vatican and rome and islam has mecca and medina. why do they need jerusalem? why can’t even that just be ours?

again, i have to push this aside and be okay with sharing if i truly want to have peace in our land. and i do, because i love eretz yisrael and yerushalayim more than i hate what has been done to her. the situation has grown so far beyond the injustices i am angry about that it is impossible to right those injustices without creating brand new ones. so i will be okay with sharing our g-d, our texts, and our land. but that doesn’t mean the injustice of it won’t burn like a fire in my heart.

[cloveroctobers]

BODE LEONE — Spring Writings 🩵

A/N: Happy Fire Country Friday! It’s just me feeding the ghost town of a tag that was inspired by that last episode with a side of drama or triggers—i try my best to make spring writings more fluff based which you will get somewhere here. I want to say this takes place a year or two after this current season idk whatever makes sense lol. I know timelines are kinda confusing for this show so feel how you feel!

WARNINGS: strained parent and child relationship, established relationships, infidelity of other characters, mentions of abuse to minors, alluding to s*ic**e, PTSD, blood, lots of descriptions that I should be employed as a screenwriter for the show with the amount of detail I give but we can just pretend, also I’m assuming that Bode and Riley were at least two to three years apart whereas him and Jake are the same age? I think that’s about it enough!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 9. Our first dinner party & “god you’re bleeding! how the hell did you do that?” “i was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀

“God you’re bleeding! How the hell did you do that?” Bode’s voice booms off the “almost oyster,” kitchen walls, making you zone back in to the fact that your middle knuckle and tip of your thumb happened to be oozing red all over the makeshift counter and cutting board.

He’s scrambling around the kitchen, snatching a rag from underneath the sink to wrap around your two fingers awkwardly. Applying pressure, which you hiss at, you meet Bode’s concerned blue-green eyes to see that he’s waiting for an answer.

You sigh, “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

Bode keeps his hands securely over yours and barely glances at the work you started on along with your phone that keeps silently lighting up. He blinks his attention back to you, sensing that you were disconnecting and was not entirely sure why. It was your idea to have your first dinner party after he moved in with you at the high rise out in Hillford, which was thirty minutes west of Edgewater.

“I see that,” he starts, “you don’t even like tomatoes, so I’m not sure why that’s on the menu for tonight?”

Closing your eyes for a moment you lift your shoulders nonchantly, “your mom loves a good Mediterranean salad, so I thought why not give it a go?”

Bode snorts, “my mom wouldn’t know the difference if it was store bought.”

His mom was a decent cook but she hardly had the patience to keep up with it. Majority of the time Bode’s dad was the one to throw down thanks to his own mother and grandmother forcing him to learn. Sharon loved to eat and sample so she wouldn’t be too judgmental…unless she ended up with food poisoning then you’d never hear the end of it!

“Vince would depending on what it is.” You peer at him underneath your eyelashes while Bode breathed out a laugh, figuring that you were most likely right. Mr. Leone may seem like a go with the flow kind of guy but one thing about the Leone’s? They loved to eat and if the food wasn’t cutting it then some words would be said.

Bode hoped the idea of his parents being here tonight didn’t make you nervous. It wasn’t your first time having a meal with them and one thing Bode knew about his parents is that they rarely held back. They liked you and they wanted to see him rebuild his life after being released. They were just happy that Bode was finally able to do that but after that text you just received…you weren’t so sure if that would remain true.

Bode gently lifts the rag from your fingers, “the bleeding from your thumb seems to be slowing down but that knuckle might need some stitches.” He announces before raising your hand back above your heart.

Feeling a wave of frustration fly over your being once more, made you want to lay face first on the kitchen floor—if it was sanitary. Hey you kept a clean house, otherwise you wouldn’t be having any family over! You were a bit of germaphobe and tried to ignore the itch of your brain to get to cleaning the mess you left on the wooden table turned island, that you got from a antique store two years ago.

“Hey,” Bode grips you even tighter, prepared to handle the deadweight if you decided to just drop to the floor, “what’s wrong?”

This was more than just you losing blood.

Opening your eyes you move your body around to slump against Bode, who didn’t hesitate to rest his cheek against the back of your head, “Sharon invited my mom and Manny, which is okay, I guess! Then my mom invited Gabriela! Which automatically makes what’s his face, the fiancé, her plus one while also extending it to Eve who invited Jake.”

The mumbling from you was a bit difficult for Bode to grasp but he listened intently anyways to get the gist of it all. There were many things wrong with this and he was tempted to call his mother up right now—despite knowing she had no ill intentions. Sharon seemed to get a kick out of your mom (which only meant trouble) who was casually dating Manny and you already knew your mother was solely the one to drag Gabriela into this. You’ve known the Perez’ since what felt like forever, way back in San Diego where you and Gabriela both attended school and actually became friends due to being in the same friend groups. You both tried out for the swim team, Gabriela made it and you excelled better at gymnastics.

She had the dream of being in the Olympics while you were being shot up with steroids from your coach to be the next star of the team. There was Lilavati Sharma who was the face of the team and carried herself with such grace despite the pressure to always be the best. She was sweet with all the girls and guys on the team and was genuinely likeable. The coach favored her just a little too much to the point she was here and then in the next she wasn’t.

Her father pulled her away from the team and gave the coach a nice shiner to the face that took weeks to heal. That only made the coach train you harder until you broke your collar bone, becoming the biggest disappointment until the truth of your coach came to light after the unexpected death of Lilavati.

That’s when you learned, maybe second best wasn’t so bad after all but that didn’t mean your trauma needed to be diminished as well. You hurt for Lilavati more than you did for yourself and it took years for you to understand why that was.

The universe seemed to have it written in stone that you and Gabriela were meant to be in each other’s lives. Yes you were older now compared to high school but it was safe to say that the both of you have fallen out long before. There always seemd to be some sort of connect with your mother and Manny. They were both once married and Manny’s been raising Gabriela all on his own for as long as you could remember. You recalled the conversations Gabriela would have about the gap she had in her life because of her mother’s absence and how lucky you were to have your parents.

Well…your mother’s been cheating on your father since you were a kid and basically bullied you not to tell your father about it once you were a bit older. Although he’s always known, he hated that she put you in that position after realizing that you’ve known. By the time leaving for college came around, your dad was moving from San Diego to Northern California far out to Edgewater; after serving your mother divorce papers who gave him such a hard time on signing them. She even followed him all the way out there after putting the house up for sale a month before your graduation.

Going back and forth to court was a common thing between them along with a restraining order being filed and lengthy phone calls from your mouthy mother filled your head while studying for finals. So yes your upbringing was as peachy as everyone thought.

Bringing it back to present time, your father was remarried and seemed to be thriving with his new aeronautical engineer of a husband, that you had to cat-sit every time they left the country to explore the world. Your father’s always been open about his sexuality and made you comfortable (considering he was a psychologist) if you ever questioned anything of your own personal experiences. You were one of the rare cases where you always had crushes and flirted once it felt like those crushes also showed interest but…it never amounted out into much.

You never had a significant other until you reached college. Let’s just say, you didn’t marry your college sweetheart. That wasn’t your story. The idea of love that you had wasn’t the brightest although it’s something you always wanted to have, it was just hard to truly receive it. And here you were with a man that always fought through so much in life that also wanted to give love and be loved in return.

“So the gang is all coming basically?” Bode used one hand to gently rub your back, “we could just cancel. It was supposed to just be with my parents…although I don’t mind Manny and your mom tagging along but…inviting everyone else to our place without talking to us about it…is crossing boundaries. How’d you find out?”

It still felt odd for Bode to call this waterfront townhouse his as well but you constantly reassured him that he was open to doing anything that made him feel like the home was his too. For one contributing to the HOA fees was a good start (after fighting a lengthy battle with the court to get EMT training and finally getting a spot on CalFire as stable income was a long time coming). Pre-Prison Bode had jobs before—some that he’s walked out on—but being with CalFire gave him purpose with a smidge of financial freedom. He was able to spend money on things that mattered like annoying adult stuff, a creepy ornamental two piece banana sculpture that he installed on the wall of the breakfast room (a small separate area from the dining room), and you.

“Mom texted.” You huffed, “and I’m trying to get better at not blowing up on her but when she does things like this? It makes it so hard.”

It took a lot for you to stand up to your mother since you tended to hold everything in. Over the years it’s been a build up and she’s apologized various of times but it started to fall on empty ears when she continued to repeat her same patterns.

Bode hated that your mother caused you such anxiety. He’s cupping your face now, gently placing his forehead against yours, “what do you want to do? I’ll call mom and yours up right now if it’s too much? We can have dinner ourselves, just us two and see if there’s any new streams on that movie you’ve been telling me about.”

You send him a small smile, cherishing that, “the kebabs are already done along with half of the other food. We can’t eat all of this ourselves.”

Bode peeks over at the covered food on the rest of the counters then back to you with a smirk of a smile, “want to bet?”

“Bode!”

“What? I can eat and I’ve been dying to try a kebab since you slapped my hand with a Spatula an hour ago.” He playfully glares at you, “I needed a snack.”

“There’s always crackers.”

Bode furrows his brows, “…I thought you loved me but I think you’re trying to starve me. What is this? Three rock?”

You laughed, “well at least one of us has an appetite and I just want to get through this night and enjoy the company of what I thought would just be with Sharon and Vince.”

Bode nods his head, “we still have time if you change your mind so, I’ll give you until after I’ve cleaned you up.”

“I love that you already know that I want you to do my stitches.”

Bode slides an arm across your hips to guide you out of the kitchen, “of course I know my baby. You nearly collapse every time you see prices in the grocery store when we’re out so I can only imagine what the bill from urgent care would look like. Lucky for you, you have a certified first responder as a boyfriend.”

He’s careful with you as he guides you up the narrow creaky stairs to the second floor to the main bathroom and you’re reminded this is the love you deserve.

You’re seated on the toilet while Bode is making a mess—like he commonly does—searching for what he needs. His hands are large and quick as they work the needle through the thread before setting it aside. He turns back to you, moving your hands from the pressure you’re applying against the rag, before motioning for you to keep it on the knuckle while he cleans, applies antibiotics and bandages your thumb first.

Bode kisses your thumb over the bandage, “how are we doing? Feeling faint? Do you need water? I probably should have asked before we came up here.”

“I’m fine.” You smile softly at him as he grabs a stool to sit down on as it’ll take him longer to work on your knuckle, “thanks for checking.”

He hums in response, “want to talk about work as a distraction?”

Blood didnt really bother you but you did cringe at the thought of needles. You can go ahead and write down PTSD note takers! You were an application security specialist, yes a true nerd, and also damn good at your stressful but fulfilling job but it was the weekend so that was a negative.

You redirect the conversation, “I’d like to draw you your next tattoo.”

Did you have artistic abilities like Bode? Let’s just say you were more of a data person while also being pretty athletic—although gymnastics was somewhat history you still found yourself stretching and working out to be crucial to your health routine—you had your own taste.

“Yeah?” Bode asks as he gets to work, “are you telling me you don’t like the two I already have?”

You shake your head, “sure I do. They have their own significant stories, which I’d never change and I have ideas if that artist brain of yours craves for more ink.”

“Appreciate that…so what’s on your mind?”

You deeply inhale as you feel the needle piercing your skin but talk through it, “you’re surprisingly into some odd art and I’ve been looking at vintage Halloween art that my co-worker is obsessed with and thought, why not create a wizard frog with a pointy star hat, wand and everything?”

“A wizard frog?” There’s a teasing tone in Bode’s voice while he pictures it as he pulls tight before going back to your skin while you hold your breath, “Magic’s not really my thing especially since I told you about my dad having me watch that one weird movie with Anthony Hopkins. Riley on the other hand? Could sit up for hours watching that horror crap with my dad…although she always ended up in my room, stealing my covers while talking away as I tried to sleep. As her big brother I dealt with it if that meant keeping her nightmares away, although I regretted it in the morning.”

The both of you share a laugh at this.

What you knew of Riley was that her and Bode were sorta opposites. She had the kindest big round blue eyes, was friendly and open to having conversations with strangers whereas Bode was more reserved before he felt comfortable enough to approach. Apparently she was soft spoken yet determined, into the well-being of animals that she planned to be a vegetarian once she was older, liked magic tricks and horror movies but only if that meant she got more time to bond with Vince that is. She seemed to have a heart on her sleeve and probably would have been a veterinarian if she lived past sixteen.

“Just big brother duties.” You inhale air between your teeth, “and I think she would like my wizard frog idea.”

“Yeah…I can see you two plotting against me.” Bode smiles over at you before giving one last tug before snooping off the excess thread, “all set.”

Before he can even move to start cleaning up, you throw your arms across his shoulders and give him a squeeze. Bode pauses but buried his nose against your fuzzy cardigan before rubbing your back against your embrace once more.

“What’s this for?”

You say, “just because I love you and I’m happy to have you here with me, which I know I probably don’t say enough since words of affirmation is more your thing than mine but I stand by this. I look forward to many more days with you, good and challenging.”

Bode feels his body go warm at your words and pulls back to meet your eyes. “I can’t wait and I love you too, softie.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles at you while you scratch at his facial hair.

“…You’ll think about the wizard frog?”

Bode sighs with a small smile on his lips, “If it makes you happy, love.”

“Cop out answer!” You flick his broad shoulder with your good hand.

“How?” Bode lifts his shoulders in confusion.

You crinkle your nose in annoyance, “You can’t ever say what I want to hear and make me think I’m always the winner, fight back.”

“Okay…I’ll remember that when I don’t want to watch the traitors uk with you.” Bode holds your stare while you gasp with a hand to your chest and then nod your head, mentally saying that was fair game.

Bode can already tell what you’re thinking, which makes him grin at you before leaning forward to cautiously peck your lips. You humph before slowly pushing yourself to get to your feet and steady yourself.

Bode’s hands are immediately on your hips as you balance yourself and you give him a nod in reassurance before leaning forward. You connect your lips again, his beard tickling your face as you breathe him in. He smells sweet like amber, fresh but calming like cypress, and warm sandalwood and you feel like you could just sink into him endlessly but manage to pull away.

“You sure you don’t want to cancel? We could do more of that and I wouldn’t mind.” Bode squeezes your hips with a lick of his own lips.

You pull from his grip, “that’s what Sunday is for, a day with no plans! Now let’s go, chop chop! We have a dinner to finish.”

And you’re out of the bathroom before Bode can even blink. He’s shaking his head at you and calls out, “fine. Don’t touch any more knives though!”

Once putting everything back where it belongs, he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He’s not entirely thrilled to have Jake here, since they were attempting to get back to where they once were but Bode wasn’t holding his breath since he felt like Jake was trying to live what could have been his when it came to Genevieve. It took time for him to accept what happened when they were teenagers meaning with Riley but since he’s been locked up? It felt like it was one thing after the next even in his freedom. Then there was Gabriela…which you had your own issue with although you tried to downplay it and there was a smidge of a history that Bode had with her that probably didn’t help…

He just hopes this dinner isn’t a true disaster for both of your sakes but at least he could have the task of throwing someone out…if it came to that of course.

That wasn’t what brought a smile to his face, it was the thought of hosting something that he could call his own with the person he wanted to spend countless days with.

You.

⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀𑁍❀☼𖦹⚘ ⚘𖦹☼❀

[sweetmariihs2]

My stf controversial opinions (no one asked) don't be mad at me pls don't take me seriously

I see Cedric being more like Sofia's uncle figure than father figure (he's the crazy uncle). Their bond together is definitely sweet but I think Cedric it's not a very parental guy and Roland would find their bond a bit weird since he's Sofia's father now. While Roland takes care of Sofia, Cedric gives her sweets and takes her to crazy places with him (like the sorcerers convention). He's defo the cool uncle for her even though everyone sees him as this weird guy

I don't see the appeal in cedlock but honestly I don't mind seeing stuff about them, it's a funny dynamic (please can someone explain them to me? I'm not joking)

which is funny because I'm so in love with Lorelei, Cedric and Roland's love triangle even though it's 100% fanon and they never appear together in the show at all

I don't shipp any of the children in stf, even though I get why some shipps are famous like Sofia x Hugo or Amber x Desmond, I just can't get used to the idea somehow, I can't see the chemistry, better saying. But it's nice!!! I also see it as a fun dynamic

I can't hate Wormwood, even after betraying Cedric he can't make me mad

The same applies to Cordelia. I think her character is a bit shallow :( we should have seen more of her and her personality through other episodes. I think that us as a fandom need to reunite to give her the development she deserved.

Now please don't kill me but I don't think Ruby and Jade are annoying, they're just immature. I think this can compare to Amber being mean in the start of the show, they're bad in their own ways. The way she treated them poorly since the beginning is just as bad as Ruby and Jade misbehaving!!

I don't like 70% of the two last seasons. Even the episodes where Cedric is in are just weird to watch, they don't pass the Sofia The First vibes at all :( they're nice but they can't even compare to Once Upon A Princess and season 1.

I personally don't like the protectors characters. I tried to, and I honestly don't mind a lot about their presence in the fandom (it's not like those shipps and stuff you roll your eyes whenever you see them, like I do with c*dfia) but I just don't like their presence in the show. Those episodes where Sofia was a protector trainee don't get much of my attention and Chrysta gets on my nerves just as much as Ruby and Jade do to almost half of the fandom. Honestly to finish STF those episodes were a sacrifice to watch. I couldn't pay attention to them and I had to rewatch them more than once. Their character designs also don't look like Sofia The First characters. They're not meant to be in this show.

I hate that Sofia got torn between that new unicorn character and OUR BELOVED Minimus. GIRL, MINIMUS IS A KING. WDYM you can't choose between him and an unicorn you just met. Just by the fact that her long time friend was feeling bad vibes coming from someone she just met is just a good reason to stop and think a bit. And the worst part was that Skye was fully against Minimus and was battling with him to get Sofia's attention. Like don't piss me off you just met her and Minimus watched her grow up. That episode was torture. And in the end Sofia was all "I don't know which one to choose 🥺 I'll just choose both" EXCUSE ME?!?? YOU JUST GOT TORN BETWEEN THIS NEW CHARACTER AND F ING MINIMUS

The merch group also started to make Sofia + Skye merch with him as her new horse friend and stopped making Sofia + Minimus stuff. The whole lesson of the episode was about keeping them both as her friends and you guys just replaced him. That shit pisses me off

I understand that the last seasons are so different from the first ones because the writer, Craig Gerber, had to focus on Elena of Avalor. But honestly, if I could decide between having Elena of Avalor and letting STF last seasons poorly done, or not having EOA at all but having STF as it was always meant to be........ I would have choosen the second option 😶

[doctorroseficmarathon]

Presenting the DoctorRose Fic Marathon 2024, August 1st-31st

Hello everyone! After taking a year off from the fic marathon we are back and bigger than ever! But since it’s been a while I figure I’ll reintroduce myself and the fic marathon! I’m @bigbad-tardis and the DoctorRose Fic Marathon is one month where authors write as much doctorrose fanfic as possible! There are prompts to get people inspired, but they are not necessary to follow. Write whatever you want, the point of the month is to just to write! The event of hosted on ao3, but the fics can be posted anywhere!

Normally the fic marathon was the month of September but because of scheduling, now the fic marathon will be moved up a month to August 1st-31st! And now there are 31 prompts instead of 30 to reflect this change! That makes this the biggest fic marathon ever. This is a beginner friendly event designed only to inspire people to write for the Doctor and Rose. It can be any pairing, ninerose, tenrose, elevenrose, hey! Even fifteenrose! Whatever floats your boat. And if you post your fic on tumblr, tag this account so I can reblog! I will also be posting on Twitter as well with help from @holdinontostars so check us out there too as docrosefic!

Before we get started, let’s refresh on the rules.

If you choose to connect any oneshots, do so as a series instead of a single story.

There is no set length or rating, write the fic you want to write! Tag your work appropriately but all types of fics are welcome during the fic marathon.

Tag the fic DoctorRose Fic Marathon (2024) so we can see what’s being posted!

Have fun!

There’s event is designed to be low stress, there is no need to feel like you have to write all of the prompts or for every day, or even in any order. They are only there to generate ideas and whatever fic you can write is plenty!

Now onto the prompts!

1. “We need you, I need you.”

This can be said in dialogue, this could be the start to the fic, whatever you want! It

2. Truth Serum

An oldie but a goodie! Keen eyes might remember it from previous events.

3. One Bed

There was only one bed, oh no, what will the Doctor and Rose do?

4. Sickfic

I’m actually not sure if I’ve done this one before. But personally I think we need more sickfics out there! This one was suggested anonymously by a follower!

5. “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf”

Who is afraid of the Big Bad Wolf indeed, I think there is a lot more than meets the eye to our formerly godlike friend Rose Tyler.

6. Accidental Baby Acquisition

Half kidfic, half adoption, half chaos. What would it be like if the Doctor and Rose suddenly acquired a child, whether that be their own, an orphan, or anything of the sort.

7. (Super)hero

This one is a little self indulgent, but the Doctor might be one of the greatest heroes ever. Or Rose too for that matter. (But personally I’d like to see a cape or two)

8. Bad Wolf as Disability

This could be any disability, but you can’t expect me to believe that Bad Wolf didn’t leave any side effects. This was was also anonymously suggested.

9. “His One Constant Companion”

What if the Doctor’s constant companion isn’t death, but in fact someone else?

10. Episode Fix-It

Previously there was a trio of prompts corresponding to GitF, Doomsday, and Journey’s End, but I’ve combined and expanded the prompt to apply to any episode.

11. At a Ball

This was also anonymously suggested! Big fan of elaborate dresses and dancing.

12. Multi Doctor

Haven’t you wondered what it would be like for there to be multiple Doctors in the same time and only one Rose?

13. Reunion

You all know why.

14. “You Are Who You Choose to Be”

This quote from the Iron Giant is about a weapon who doesn’t want to hurt anyone, kind of like the Doctor in a way, no?

15. Time Loop

Heaven Sent, Eve of the Daleks, it’s a sci-fi classic for a reason.

16. Alternate First Meeting

This juggernaut of a prompt has been in the fic marathon three times, and that’s because it’s my favorite!

17. Phones

One of the features of New Who is that the Doctor upgrades the companions phones, how does that change the dynamic.

18. Jealousy

This was anonymously submitted as well!

19. Soulmates

Another anonymous submission but oh they’re so right. The Doctor and Rose are soulmates.

20. “The North Wind Blows and Carries Down the Distant Rose”

Have you guys ever noticed that the wind picks up during dimensional travel sometimes… the north wind carries the distant Rose? Just saying

21. Bad Wolf/The Oncoming Storm

Everyone fears someone, the TARDIS just happens to have two of the most scary people ever.

22. Supernatural

No im not talking about superwholock. Unless that’s something you like, then feel free, but this was intended to be an all encompassing trope for the people who wanted magic and mermaids. It’s even more relevant now that Doctor Who is experimenting with superstition.

23. Only Description

This guy is the only “challenging” prompt for the event. Try to write a story without dialogue and only using description.

24. Sun, Moon, and Stars

Rose Tyler burns like the sun, the Doctor sometimes lands on the moon. Loads of possibilities here!

25. The Master

I’m just saying that the Rose, Doctor, Master dynamic could be hilarious if given the chance.

26. Domestics

The Doctor said he didn’t do domestic, but ever since they met Rose they seem very versed in it. Curious.

27. “Something of the Wolf”

We all know that there has to be something has to have changed with Rose Tyler after Bad Wolf, and apparently other people have noticed too.

28. Classic

This could mean a lot of things, Classic Who references, or are the Doctor and Rose a classic love story?

29. Timey Wimey

The Tenth Doctor invented this iconic phrase, there are numerous ways this could apply to the Doctor and Rose.

30. Dreams

Look, the Doctor is a telepath, everyone dreams. Loads of possibilities here.

31. Forever

I always try to end out the month with the sappiest of prompts, and I think this one fits.

[viperwhispered]

I just wanna take a moment to say thank you for always being around to chat since I don't have many to talk to about TWST. I also suck at characterization so I don't write many fics. But I was very happy when you used one of our discussions for Revel in You. I don't mind if you use our convos to write, just be sure to credit the source.

On that note: saw your smut posts. Here's an idea: Jamil celebrating his promotion to being a Housewarden.

It's Friday, there's an enormous party going on to celebrate Jamil and Kalim's new roles and the successes of the first month with this new dynamic. While Jamil is more accustomed to the spotlight, he still gets "tired out" and leaves it to Kalim to keep the party going and organize the clean up crew. After all, he's due for a more private celebration of his own.

Fun fact: for a good chunk of snake species, the male will bite the females neck to hold them down while mating.

Imagine Jamil relentlessly taking his beloved from behind, deciding they're wriggling a bit too much. Delighting in the sounds they make as he pulls them towards him by the hair, he just bites the back of their neck as his body pins them to the bed. They'll probably be annoyed by morning, but Jamil's already got some concealers beforehand.

Did I forget to mention it's a Friday, Jamil no longer has roomates, and pretty much the entire dorm is still partying to loud music several hallways away?

Also worth mentioning that, as a healthy mature couple, all of Jamil's jealousy and possessiveness is addressed in a healthy manner so the relationship never turns toxic. This statement does not apply to the bedroom.

Aww thank you, always happy to talk with you too 😊 Plus like, if you’d rather talk over messages sometime in addition to the asks, feel free. (And this applies to anyone else reading this post too.)

Yeah iirc I was thinking a bit if I should ask you about using that ask as a jumping off point for To Revel in You, but I figured I was using it more as inspiration rather than rewriting anything you wrote or anything like that. And that since you sent that ask in the first place, I did kinda assume it would be okay to build off it. But good to hear I wasn’t wrong in thinking so, and glad you liked it.

As for characterization & writing: it really is a matter of practice, I’d say. Plus, like, everyone is bound to interpret the characters in a different way, or focus on different aspects of them. Which can be freeing, in a way, knowing that you can bring to the table something that no one else can, certainly not in the same exact way you would.

Also I was actually thinking of asking for some writing prompts since the current wip seems to need a bit more time to marinate, and here you are with perfect timing.

So let’s see what I can do with this concept.

If it wasn’t obvious: smut ahead. Written with fem / afab reader in mind but I think this could be read gender neutral as well since the only specific body detail mentioned is that reader has hair long enough for Jamil to grab.

The day - and the week, and the month - had been such a whirlwind that even Jamil had had trouble keeping up with it all.

Tonight, Jamil had basked in the praises from his dormmates, their congratulations and glowing words - and noted the cautious looks of those who still had not forgotten the events of his overblot.

He had enjoyed food that was not made by him, watched others fuss over the preparations and the serving - well, as much as he had been able to keep himself from giving direction. Still, even he had not been able to oversee every single detail, as much as he wanted to.

After all, both you and Kalim had been quite insistent, in your own ways, that this celebration should be for him, not by him.

So Jamil had danced, eaten, drank, listened, talked, so much so that now when the night was beginning to turn towards morning, he had more than had his fill.

Besides, tired as he may be of the crowd, there was still something on his agenda that he was more than happy to indulge in.

You had been teasing him with promises of a more private celebration - starting from when the party was decided on all the way to when you had been dancing together earlier - and Jamil intended to finally collect his reward.

You were outside for a moment of fresh air and quiet when Jamil found you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nipping your ear.

“I remember someone promising to be mine tonight,” he murmured, voice low and husky.

You shivered, feeling Jamil’s lips on your neck. You’d half expected him to be too tired to turn your teasing into action. Yet, you certainly welcomed this turn of events, your own tiredness washed away by Jamil’s eager touch and his tempting whispers.

“You know me. Always love - ahhh - spoiling you,” you said - your words turning into a gasp when Jamil licked the side of your neck.

In no time at all you found yourself in Jamil’s room - as easy as it was to be distracted by each other, you both still preferred the privacy over lingering in the common areas of the dorm.

Jamil’s mouth was hungry on yours, his hands working quickly to rid you of your clothes.

Sometimes you wondered just how much Jamil was holding back in the presence of others, for him to get so ravenous as soon as you two were alone.

Not that you were any different, pulling away that long belt from Jamil’s hips so that you could slip your hands under his shirt, your lips covering every available bit of his skin with kisses.

It was always delicious, your naked bodies tangled together. That heady feeling of each other, both of you grasping and kissing wherever you could, like you could never quite feel enough of the other.

“So what would mister housewarden ask of me tonight?” you asked with a playful grin, nuzzling your nose against Jamil’s.

There was undeniable hunger in the way Jamil looked at you, yet also the warmth and softness of your lover that always filled your heart to the brim.

“Just all of you, albi,” Jamil murmured, pushing you down onto the mattress.

You’d entertained ideas of a celebratory blowjob, of taking care of Jamil tonight. But if he’d rather help himself to you, you were certainly not going to say no.

A few orgasms later and Jamil was pounding into you, firmly holding onto your hips while your face was pressed onto the sheets. His cock was invading your insides so hard, so deep, leaving you nearly senseless. You jolted helplessly every time Jamil slammed his way all the way in, the pleasure bordering on pain as it shot through your nerves.

“Ahhh, Jamil…” you whimpered, barely aware of the spot of drool you’d left on the bed.

“Too much?” Jamil muttered, one of his hands leaving your side to instead trail a soothing path along your spine.

“...No.”

It was a lot, your senses nearly overtaken by the intensity of it all - yet you didn’t want anything less.

Still, you couldn’t help squirming, your body twitching with every thrust, yelps and moans pushed from your throat no matter how much you tried to hold them in.

“Hold still,” Jamil grunted. 

He gathered your hair in his hand, making you gasp when he tugged. You could feel the pull on your scalp, almost like Jamil wanted to rein you in - or pull your face away from the sheets so that he could hear your cries more clearly.

“You’re all mine tonight, aren’t you? Mine to have, mine to enjoy,” Jamil breathed to your ear.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you whined, aroused beyond belief.

Always his, just as he is yours - but you had no time to vocalize that thought before Jamil’s weight pushed you prone on the bed.

Your gasp was cut short, turned into a sharp cry when you felt moist pressure at the back of your neck - a bite, you realized, some instinct telling you to keep still.

Not that you had much of a choice in the matter. Jamil’s hand, still gripping your hair. His mouth, latched onto your skin. His body, holding you down.

The weight of him against your back was almost suffocating, yet in a delicious way. Like you could be closer to him like this, more connected than just skin to skin contact - or penetration - could provide.

You could feel the rolling of Jamil’s hips against your backside, the way his cock was dragging along your insides. Not as harshly as before, yet intense enough to keep you trembling and whining with the little breath you could take.

And Jamil’s mouth, his teeth, never letting go. His muffled groans such a delicious sound, making you clench around him.

Such sweet torture, and you never wanted it to end.

Taglist since this turned into fic: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @perilous-pasta @twstgo @cannedpickledpeaches

[queer-geordie-nerd]

“In 1941, after a dramatic turn of events, both outside and inside the country, Croatia proclaimed independence, becoming a puppet state of the German Third Reich. The Independent State of Croatia (NDH – Nezavisna Drzava Hrvatska) was born. Almost immediately, racial laws were introduced. Fritz (my grandfather) had just come back from his travels abroad when the new law forced him to return to the town of his birth in order to register as a Jew and get a yellow star on his sleeve. His sisters who stayed in Bosnia were in hiding. Both of them had married Serbs because, even with Serbs being hated and persecuted, it was still better to be a Serb than a Jew.

“It’s still better to be a Serb than a Jew” – I would hear that same exact sentence from a Hungarian consul in London in 1993, while we were applying for a visa. The consul meant it as a joke. But my husband and I, people with no country or passport at the time, did not laugh. We could not understand how this man had managed to identify us as a Serb and a Jew respectively, although we ourselves had never mentioned those facts and our travel documents did not hold that information. Are all racists of this world connected in some unknown, mysterious way? Do they know facts about us that even we don’t know?

Fritz was torn. He had an invitation to emigrate to Israel. My mother would mourn his refusal to take that offer throughout her whole life. Why didn’t he leave? He was a fairly well-known figure in Zagreb. One of his best friends was Bozidar Adzija, a respected leftist writer and politician. A street in Zagreb bore his name until the right wing Tudjman government changed it in the nineties.

This group of young people was infected by progressive ideas about a world without nationalism and religious sectarianism. Fleeing to Israel must have seemed like giving up on those ideas. It meant seeking refuge with your own tribe and thus denouncing the idea of being a citizen of the world. At least I presume that was one of the reasons to stay. There was also the well known human habit of refusing to believe the worst could ever happen. Also, finding solace in the word of the law, even if that law seems wrong (If I obey the law, they would not hurt me, would they? The answer is: yes, they would.)

Fritz obediently returned to his town of Bijeljina and registered as a Jew. He went searching for his sisters who chased him away: he was a danger to them. They were hiding in a Serbian Orthodox church where the authorities didn’t dare to touch them. They both took their husbands’ Serbian names. They didn’t want to risk capture because of their brother. Later on, in discussions with my Jewish family in Belgrade, I would always detect an animosity towards Fritz: how dared he endanger the family? Fritz was on his own, without protection from anyone. He was immediately captured by the Bosnian pro-Nazi Muslim police and transferred to the Croatian Ustashas. And that’s how he found himself in Jasenovac concentration camp.

That beautiful, soft, elegant, educated man was now digging mud from the smelly ditch surrounding the camp, at the mercy of enthusiastic killers. It wouldn’t last long. How old was he when he died? I could never find out. He had disappeared without a trace. Branka spent the war in Zagreb, under the strict antisemitic laws, studying French and Yugoslav literature at the university. She would hide from all the horror behind books. They were saving her life. On the practical front, she started using her biological mother’s name, Savić, because – as I said before – in that time and that place it was still better to be a Serb than a Jew. But what really protected her during the Nazi years in Croatia was her adoptive mother, Ljuba.”

- Mira Furlan, Love Me More Than Anything In the World

[unhinged-transmasc-man]

I really do think that some trans people see the word “man” in trans man and their brain shuts off. Their brains go “Oh, man. Man privileged and bad. Men evil and oppressive. Therefore you, Man, equal evil and oppressive. I do not consider you a person now.” The usual acknowledgement of identities and nuance and lived experience they willingly apply to every other group flies out the fucking window. They are so blinded by gender essentialism they completely dehumanize trans men. They don’t know what to do with us in their simplistic bullshit radfem gender politics. Saying trans women are women doesn’t make you not a radfem, deconstructing bio/gender essentialism, and the belief that all masculinity and men/men-aligned/masculine people are inherently morally evil/oppressive/corruptive, and that all femininity and women/women-aligned-feminine people are inherently morally good/innocent/oppressed, THAT is what you have to do to not be a radfem, at the very least.

I am sick to death of non-trans men acting as if trans men never interrogate what it means to be a man. It is in the DEFINITION of being a trans man. We have thought about what it means to be a man more than anyone else (interestingly, trans women also have to grapple with manhood and masculinity in being raised with patriarchal expectations and realizing they don’t fit them and don’t identify with manhood). We build ourselves up from nothing (in terms of making the world acknowledge us as men instead of forcibly trapping as us “women”), we have to make our bodies match who we are, we have to figure out and be determined to be boys and men before anyone else knows we are. We are trans BECAUSE we are men. We have to figure out what being trans and what being a man means to us. Our sense of manhood and masculinity will always be rebellious (not by our own choice, but in the way any oppressed group is rebellious in existing). Trans men are inherently an anti-patriarchal concept. Obviously trans men can be misogynistic like anyone else, but the claim that transforming into a man is automatically misogynistic is radfem trash. The idea that identifying as a man suddenly erases experiences of misogyny is so inherently alien to the actual lived experience of all trans men that it can only come from people who do not interact with, care about, or view trans men as worthy of listening to, or even acknowledgment at all, or even just outright hate us for existing. Non trans men seem to legitimately think that putting on a binder will make cis people see us as men. That is not how it works, and the fact that I have to SAY THAT just shows the absolute miserable state of how rampant anti-trans man attitudes are (anti-transmasculinity more generally but specifically with trans men).

Trans men think about manhood a LOT. We think about it a lot, because manhood and masculinity are central to our identity in a way that is different from any other group of people. We are taking previous experiences and concepts, and re-framing and re-creating those concepts with what fits us. We have to completely construct both womanhood and manhood. It is also a different kind of thinking of being a man because we actually are the men in that situation, “the man” goes from being Other to Us. The complete disregard for our personal experiences, and the reliance on non-trans men and their endless parade of disgusting and bigoted options rather than US is very telling. Trans men have a unique perspective: manhood and masculinity, and the patriarchy (they are not the same thing) were likely traumatic for us, but our own masculinity and manhood are freeing and liberatory for us because we are trans, and because we are trans men. Obviously we don’t want to be what oppressed us, so our usual conclusion is to do masculinity and manhood in a different way. And yet is it so common for that to be turned against us, to assume that because we are trans men we must be willingly aligning ourselves with patriarchy without a second thought. But some trans people do not want to let us do a different form of masculinity, because they see all masculinity as inherently the same, equally oppressive, and evil.

We have a deeper understanding of misogyny and constructs of manhood than most people. We have a deeply profound awareness of how gender works, we live with it every day. Our perspective is critical for advancing any sort of gendered liberation of trans people, and to act like it isn’t, and to act as if only people who do not identify with manhood or masculinity have an inherently more valid perspective is gender essentialist nonsense. Gender is fluid and can be interpreted in many ways, the harmful ways of the patriarchy are not inherent in masculinity or femininity. Masculinity is not inherently oppressive, the patriarchy is. Of course people not allowed to be men who insist on our right to be men anyway think about our identities all the time. Far more than the people who make these nonsensical claims in the first place. Quite honestly, the only way to make this better (what we can do, because 1. It’s not our responsibility to make non-trans men not hate us and 2. Non trans men need to do their work in fixing their attitudes about us) is for trans men to use our voices and share our point of view. Anti-trans man and masc bigotry relies on silence and deliberate violent erasure, and it’s harder to do that if we never be quiet. Our identities are not morally wrong. We deserve to take up space.

[gepardling]

First of all I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WRITING! YOU ARE INCREDIBLE <33 JUST PRAISE. Now! I just wanted to say that I can't stop imagining our dear boy Gepard with a doctor reader. Like he comes back injured and she just takes care of his wounds and he looks up at her with such adoration. I imagine it something like that Spiderman scene with Peter and Gwen?? If you get me, when Peter goes to her and she treats his wounds, they are so close and it's so cute!! So yes something similar happens with our boy Geppie. (still love your writing a lot!)

scars of service w/ gepard.

desc. : okie so I LOVED WRITING THIS OOPS i initially had a slightly diff idea for dis but after reading the whole thing i jus had a "dis piece is complete" moment n i really liked what i had so ! enjoy :) the title is a play on the love language "acts of service" ♥︎ (wc : 1k )

tags / cw : sfw, just fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, mention of injury/blood but nothing graphic described, hurt/comfort (?) perhaps, gepard is a little arrogant man who should be more careful on the frontlines

Unwavering dedication breeds self-sacrifice, and Gepard's unyielding commitment on the frontlines often gave rise to both acts of bravery and the perilous seed of arrogance. He was no stranger to throwing himself at the Fragmentum, fending off waves of monsters in an attempt to break the enemy line so that his soldiers may have an advantage. While Gepard may have had the stamina, he was only human and you knew he was bound to reach his limit eventually.

On this day, the Fragmentum onslaught proved exceptionally harsh. Unending masses of monsters stormed the frontlines, clashing with the silvermane forces in relentless waves. Even Gepard, alongside his fatigued comrades, was starting to tire. After fending off an abnormally large beast, the captain found himself worse for wear. Without the arrival of the rear guard as back-up, he would have collapsed on the spot.

Hearing the door to the clinic slam open was enough to give anyone a fright, and the icy breeze sent a chill down your spine. You were taken aback when you realized it was Captain Gepard in the doorway, once-pristine white uniform now stained with blood and dirt. As your eyes scanned his figure, your heart raced at the state he was in – that the blood on his uniform was in fact his own and not from a soldier he had brought in for first aid. 

Immediately, you rushed to his side, guiding him to the examination table in the corner of the room. Gepard hissed when you pressed against his wounded side, prompting him to sit on the edge of the bed. At this point, neither of you had spoken a word to the other, and frankly you were too afraid to ask. While it is true that you'd often do volunteer work on the frontlines, you'd never expected to see the Captain in such a dire state as he is now.

As you pushed up his uniform coat, the sight of the grievous laceration on his side made you gasp. Removing the upper half of his uniform revealed even more scratches and bruises he had endured. Wordlessly, you retrieved the necessary materials, pulling up a chair next to the bed. “What happened?” you asked after a long period of silence had passed, cleaning the area around the laceration with an antiseptic solution. Gepard breathed deeply when the liquid seeped into his wound, burning the exposed flesh. 

“The Fragmentum,” he finally replied, pointedly avoiding the worried look in your eyes. With steady hands, you continued your ministrations, your gaze fixed on Gepard's injury. The severity of his wounds sent a shiver down your spine, and concern etched itself into your gentle features. The heavy silence clung to the air, amplifying the weight of your unspoken fears. As you carefully applied a sterile dressing to his side, you couldn't help but press for more answers, unable to ignore the nagging worry that gnawed at your heart.

"You’ve never had an injury this bad," you remarked softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "But this... this time it's more than just a skirmish. What happened out there, Gepard?" Gepard's eyes flickered, his gaze fixated on a distant point on the wall. His reluctance to share the details only fueled your determination to unearth the truth. You knew him well enough to recognize his attempts to shield you from unnecessary worry, but this time, you couldn't let him dismiss your concerns so easily.

Leaning closer, you gently grasped his hand, dabbing his bruised knuckles with the cleaning agent and applying a bandage. "Please, Gepard," you implored, your voice laced with genuine care. "Share your burden with me." Finally, his eyes met yours, revealing a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. The familiar strength that radiated from him seemed momentarily diminished, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that tugged at your heart. 

A faint smile played on his lips, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “I may have overstayed my welcome, but rest assured, I still seem to be in one piece.” He gently raised his hand to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. Your gaze held a sadness that broke his heart, but your mouth curved into a gentle smile.

"You know I worry about you out there," you whispered, your hand pressing against his on your cheek. "I don't want your duty to be your downfall." You looked away, searching for another wound to focus on, to divert your mind from the dark thoughts.

"It's the fear of losing you that gives me the strength to push past my limits. If I couldn't protect Belobog – to protect you – I wouldn't know what would become of me," he replied, a familiar determination etched into his tone. You fell silent, gently applying a numbing gel to the cut on his arm. It was pointless to argue, but it didn't mean you approved of his reckless behavior.

"I would've stitched you up without anesthetic if I didn't love you, you know?" you quipped, chuckling softly at the thought. Gepard only laughed, leaning in to plant a soft kiss against your lips. It was apologetic, for making you worry about him as much as he did. When he pulled away, you no longer felt sadness. His presence alone calmed your worries.

But as he leaned in for another peck, you found yourself pushing against his chest with your free hand. “Hey,” you breathed, “At least let me finish stitching up this cut…” The needle still grasped tightly between your fingers, you hoped you wouldn't accidentally pull the thread too tight. But maybe, just maybe, it would teach him a lesson to be more careful next time.

After you finished patching up Gepard, a quiet understanding filled the room. As your fingers traced across his scars, a mixture of tenderness and concern enveloped your heart. You had come to accept that this was how things would be, that he would always be drawn to the frontlines, risking his well-being for the greater good. Yet, in that moment, you silently vowed to cherish every precious moment, knowing that your unwavering support would be his guiding light in the darkest of times.

the science nerd in me had 2 tone down the medical references and play up the emotions to 100 hehe ♥︎ but OMGGG dat Spiderman scene was so soft aaaa i hope I managed to capture the vibes...

[oldiesstationlover11607]

i NEED a Torchbearer fic where he starts to catch feelings for the newest member of the Bandito’s, and his little stoic and mysterious personality starts to completely melt the second they’re around. Very fluffy with maybe a kiss or two at the end 🤭🤭

I LOVEEEEEEE your fics, plz never stop uploading 😔🙏🏻

Stoic - Torchbearer!Josh x Bandito!Reader

Warnings: Nothing much lmao

Word count: 2590 (no idea how this ended up this long lmao)

A/N: Honestly it feels so good to be writing top fics again! Especially after having a wee break and feeling kind of creatively drained :)

The Torchbearer was a man of very few words. I knew that the moment I met him, the very second I arrived at the bandito camp. He said just a few words to me, his voice low and steady, as he stood tall and imposing in front of me.

“Welcome Y/N. It’s good to finally see you.”

His words carried more weight than I could have anticipated. His eyes, piercing and intense, peeked out from behind the yellow bandana that covered the lower half of his face. They seemed to see right through me, into the very core of who I was. I had heard the stories about him—the Torchbearer, the symbol of rebellion. Standing before him was surreal. His presence radiated a power that commanded both respect and awe, leaving me speechless. Questions bubbled inside me, questions about his journey, about the rebellion, about the man beneath the bandana. But before I could utter a word, a pair of banditos appeared at my side, firmly but not unkindly leading me away toward a tent.

“You know, the Torchbearer doesn’t usually talk to new recruits these days. You’re lucky,” said a woman who introduced herself as Jenna. She held the flap of the tent open for me as we stepped inside, her tone matter-of-fact but tinged with a note of envy.

“Really?” I asked, glancing back toward where I had left him. “Why not?”

“Too busy, I guess. Coordinating rebellion is time consuming,” she replied with a shrug, as if this was a simple truth everyone here accepted. She set to work taking my jacket, replacing its ordinary appearance with strips of yellow tape, meticulously applied like a mark of belonging. Everyone in the camp wore the same vivid, sunburst hue—a symbol of unity, defiance, and hope.

“That must be hard for him,” I murmured, lying down flat on the makeshift cot as she pressed the tape to the shoulders of the jacket.

Jenna paused for a moment, as though considering my words. “I never really thought about it like that,” she admitted, ripping the tape with her teeth. “He’s always so focused on putting everyone else first—our needs, the movement, the cause. He barely talks to anyone except Clancy. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember he’s just a person and not this... this untouchable figure.” She chuckled softly, a touch of awkwardness in her tone, before handing the jacket back to me. “You’re all set. This tent is yours as long as you need it. We try to make sure everyone has a place to settle in when they first arrive.”

She stood, brushing her hands on her pants, and flashed me a smile. “You’re welcome to join us anytime, by the way. We usually hang out around the fire, or by the supply tents. But no pressure—most newcomers like to have space at first. It’s a lot to take in.”

I nodded, her words striking a chord. She was right. Leaving Dema wasn’t just a decision; it was a leap of faith, a choice made against all odds. And meeting the banditos was overwhelming in its own way. Trench was nothing like the city I had escaped—it was vibrant, alive in a way I had never known. The burst of color, the hum of activity, the sheer humanity of it all—it was like stepping onto the edge of a towering precipice and looking down. The dizzying sense of freedom was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I waited until the sun dipped below the horizon, the camp quieting as voices faded into the stillness of the night. Slipping out of the tent, I tread carefully, my steps soft against the cold earth. The air was crisp, and each breath emerged as a faint cloud in the moonlight. The faint chirping of crickets was the only sound that accompanied me as I approached the bonfire at the heart of the camp. The flames still danced, though the surrounding space was now deserted.

Standing there, bathed in the flickering light of the fire, the reality of my choice settled heavily on my shoulders. The life I had left behind in Dema felt distant, yet its weight lingered. I stared into the flames, my thoughts swirling, the enormity of it all pressing down on me. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel the raw truth: I was no longer a prisoner. 

“Y/N,” I heard a voice from behind me, making me jump slightly. The tall figure, still dressed in green, approached me. The Torchbearer. I stared up at him, his bandana now removed to reveal his face. He was handsome – that was something I was quick to notice – but he looked like he’d been through a lot, a few light scars scattered across his face along with dark shadows under his eyes. “What’re you doing out this late?” He asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked me up and down. It took me a second to respond to him, the words refusing to leave my mouth. 

“Getting some fresh air,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. My eyes felt heavy, as I stared into the flames of the fire. 

“The air is clearer out here. Clancy told me that.” The tone of his voice was clear and stoic. I nodded along, trying to keep my composure rather than let the anxiety that came with the Torchbearer standing next to me take over. 

He struck me as the kind of man who would say his piece and then leave without fanfare. But here he was, standing just a few feet away, his presence heavy and unyielding like the mountains surrounding Trench. His gaze flicked to the fire, then back to me, and I noticed the way his posture softened slightly, like he was trying—awkwardly—to put me at ease.

“It is,” I replied quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever breathed air like this before.”

The corners of his lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close enough to startle me. “You get used to it,” he said. “But the first time... It’s something you don’t forget. I hear new escapees talk about it a lot.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. The fire crackled, filling the space, as if granting us permission to let the quiet settle in. He seemed lost in thought, his expression distant yet oddly peaceful.

“You listen to them a lot, don’t you?” I found myself asking, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. 

“Of course I do,” he started, “they’re my people. It’s my job to protect them. How can I make sure the banditos are safe if I don’t know these things about them?” 

I smiled, understanding completely what he was saying. “You’re a good leader.”

“I try,” he said, looking down at me. 

“What keeps you up this late?” I tried to keep the conversation going, wanting more dialogue with him. 

He blinked, almost like he hadn’t expected the question. Then his brow furrowed slightly, and he lowered himself onto a log near the fire, his movements measured and deliberate. “Thinking,” he admitted after a pause. “There’s always something to think about.”

I nodded, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. Of course there would be—he carried the weight of the rebellion on his shoulders, and I doubted he let anyone see the full scope of that burden. Still, the fact that he’d chosen to sit here, to share this moment, felt significant.

“Do you miss it?” I asked softly. “The life you had before all of this?”

His eyes met mine, sharp and searching, as if trying to decide how much to reveal. Then he exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I miss... certain things,” he said slowly. “Moments. People. But not the cage. Not the lies.”

The raw honesty in his voice caught me off guard, and I found myself leaning closer, drawn in by the rare glimpse of vulnerability. He noticed, his gaze flickering to mine briefly before returning to the fire.

“Do you?” he asked, his tone quieter now, almost hesitant. “Miss anything?”

I hesitated, the question striking a chord deep within me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think I’m still figuring out what I had... and what I didn’t.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “It’s like that for everyone, at first. You’re not alone in that.”

The words, simple as they were, stirred something in me. I hadn’t expected reassurance from him, of all people. For a moment, I watched him, noting the way the firelight danced in his eyes, how his face seemed less guarded, more human in the glow.

“I didn’t think you’d be so...” I started, then trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.

He raised an eyebrow. “So... what?”

“Kind,” I finished, my cheeks warming. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

His lips curved slightly, a faint, almost sheepish smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” he said, but his tone held no malice.

“It is,” I said earnestly.

For the first time, his gaze lingered on mine, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. He seemed to be weighing something, the firelight reflecting the flicker of uncertainty in his expression. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand hovering just shy of my own.

“Y/N,” he said, my name sounding different on his lips, softer, like he was savoring it. “You’re brave, you know that?”

I blinked, startled by the shift in his tone. “I don’t feel brave,” I confessed.

His fingers brushed mine lightly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver up my spine. “Maybe not yet,” he said. “But you are. And you’ll see it, in time.”

The warmth in his voice, the quiet conviction, left me speechless. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of us by the fire, bound together by something unspoken yet undeniable.

The days that followed were... strange. The Torchbearer returned to his usual stoic, distant self during the day. He was still polite, still nodded at me when we passed each other, but the softness, the warmth he had shown me that night by the fire, was gone. It was as though a wall had sprung up between us, and I couldn’t help but feel like I had done something wrong.

Had I overstepped? Said too much? Misread the entire moment?

The questions gnawed at me as I tried to integrate myself into life in the camp. Jenna and the others were kind and welcoming, and I found myself drawn into their lively camaraderie, but a part of me couldn’t let go of the quiet ache every time I caught sight of him. He was always busy—discussing plans with Clancy, overseeing the camp’s supplies, training new recruits—but I could feel his eyes on me sometimes, watching from a distance. And yet, every time I looked his way, he turned away as if nothing had happened.

It was maddening.

One evening, after several days of this strange dance, I found myself wandering again, unable to shake the restless feeling in my chest. The camp was winding down for the night, the fire once again a solitary beacon in the darkness. I hesitated, debating whether I should even bother approaching it, but my feet carried me forward before I could decide otherwise.

To my surprise, he was already there. The Torchbearer stood with his back to me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he gazed into the flames. His posture was tense, his shoulders drawn up slightly as if he were wrestling with some unseen force.

I stopped in my tracks, unsure whether to leave or stay. Before I could decide, he spoke.

“Y/N.”

He didn’t turn around, but his voice was unmistakable, low and steady like always, but with a note of something... different. Hesitation? Regret?

I swallowed, forcing myself to step closer. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, still not looking at me.

I blinked, startled. “I could say the same for you.”

He finally turned, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was intense, filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“I’m not good at this,” he said abruptly, his voice quieter now. “At... talking. At letting people in.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming but not unwelcome, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I thought maybe if I kept my distance, it would be easier. For you. For me. But it’s not.” He paused, exhaling sharply, as though the admission cost him something. “You’ve been in my head since the moment you got here. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The confession hit me like a gust of wind, stealing my breath. “I—”

“My name is Joshua,” he interrupted gently, a faint, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’ve earned that much.”

“Joshua,” I repeated softly, the name feeling foreign but oddly right on my tongue. He nodded, letting out a loud sigh. 

“You know, I like you a lot right?” His smile faded as his gaze turned serious again. “More than I should.” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he seemed to search for the right words. “I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The fire crackled softly behind him, casting flickering shadows across his face. My heart hammered in my chest as I searched his eyes, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“You’re something different Joshua,” I whispered, the words trembling on my lips. “I like you too.”

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it softened into something warmer, something that made my chest ache in the best way. Slowly, as if giving me a chance to pull away, he stepped closer, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, but it sent a spark racing through me.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

I shook my head, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Don’t.”

That was all he needed. His hand slid gently to cup my cheek, and then his lips were on mine, warm and firm and full of every unspoken word he couldn’t bring himself to say. The world fell away in that moment, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in the quiet intensity of the kiss. His other hand found its way to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melted against him, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his jacket.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he said softly, his voice tinged with wonder. “And I don’t want to lose this. Lose you.”

“You won’t,” I promised, my heart full and steady for the first time since I’d arrived. “You won’t.”

For the first time, the weight in his eyes seemed to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope. And as we stood there, wrapped in the glow of the fire, I knew with absolute certainty that I had made the right choice—not just in leaving Dema, but in trusting him.

Trusting us.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[matan4il]

"Breaking your faith in humanity "... Truer words never spoken. There is knowing the true horror that was done to innocent civilians and being horrified by it. But then there is the ultimate sadness in how some people act now. How are people criticizing Paltrow for speaking the truth. Rape is not resistance!!!

Even on a mundane level, I can say as I first found you because of Buddie, I almost have no joy for it coming back. I'm almost grateful there were no shows this fall because it would have felt icky for me. But it still does even now. It feels vapid to find joy in something knowing how people suffered and are still suffering. I, of course, don't judge others who find solace in it. I will watch it and hope. I just find it hard to go back to a normal thing like shipping a fictional couple.

As always, I hope you're staying safe and sane. I hope you feel ok and maybe have the house situation figured out . xoxoxo

Hi darling!

I hope you're well. *hugs*

It's insane to me that the sentence, "Rape is not resistance" is something that actually needs saying. People who are truly against rape, are always against rape. They don't need convincing not to make Jews an exception. I have NEVER heard in any other context people saying, "Well, I'm against rape as an idea, but this specific case is okay."

If you're okay with some rapes, you've never truly been anti-rape.

But the fact that so many of those who say it, who supposedly justify it as anti-colonialist, are actually colonizers living on colonized land, is even more deranged, because it means either they're saying they're okay with they themselves, their families and fellow colonizer friends and colleagues being raped as well (I doubt that's what they mean), or they're applying this "notion" of rape being resistance in a discriminatory way, where rape is resistance so long as it's done to Jews living in the Jewish ancestral homeland. Which is not anti-colonialist at all, IS hypocritical and IS antisemitic. HOW can they take this stance, and not see how harmful to Jews it is? They're being pro-rape and anti-Jewish, while claiming they're motivated by empathy and concern for human rights!?

I'm so happy you found me thanks to my Buddie content, and I endlessly appreciate what an incredible, real ally to Jews you are. I'm generally very grateful for every 911 fan, who actually implements the show's notions of compassion, which include listening to marginalized groups about their own experiences (and Hamas' massacre, the motivation behind the war, the pain over the loss of so many Israelis and Jews by a nation which has survived a genocide, and still carries an inter-generational trauma because of it, the sense of betrayal over the rise in antisemitic incident on Oct 7 already, while the terrorists were still inside Israel, butchering, raping, beheading and burning people, these are OUR experiences. Ignoring us when we talk about them or telling us we're only motivated by bloodlust, an antisemitic trope, when we explain that we're much more concerned about liberating our hostages and preventing another massacre, that's speaking over us. Arguing with us on what is and isn't antisemitic, that's speaking over us, rather than listening to us. It's antisemitic in itself, and it's not something that's done to ANY other marginalized group).

I can't believe we're at the point where Jews have to beg people to just listen to us, listen as if we're human beings, and not caricatures of vampiric villains (again, a classic antisemitic trope), cruelly interested solely in destruction and death. But in response so many people just look at us, knowing there's a rise in antisemitism, and still go... "No."

When people in every fandom go around, not just blocking Jews and Jewish allies who believe a Jewish state has the right to exist in the Jewish ancestral land, but they're also telling others to block us, to silence our voices, to act like there is no pain and there are no victims on the Israeli and Jewish side of this conflict, it is hard to be enthusiastic about any fandom.

At the same time, I KNOW I'm living through a major trauma, the worst Jews have experienced since the end of the Holocaust. I've seen my maternal grandmother never really recover from the trauma she went through in the Holocaust. I've never seen her laugh without a touch of sadness and pain being there, she never went through one celebration without slipping aside for at least one moment and crying. After my paternal grandmother died, I discovered that her sister never had kids because of the Holocaust, and actually ended up taking her own life (up until our grandmother's passing, my sis and I were told she died of cancer). So I know how persistent trauma is. I know that the Holocaust did not end in May 1945, and I know that Oct 7 didn't end when Israel was freed of the 3,500 terrorists who invaded it that day. Oct 7 probably won't end even when the current war does. That's why I recognize how important it is to hold on to every bit of normalcy I can, to not let the trauma take over. And that's what fandom is in a sense. A semblance of normalcy.

Except fandom isn't normal anymore, not after I've seen incomprehensible amounts of hate and hypocrisy, including from people I trusted and liked, and thought liked me. My belief in the kindness of people (especially when it's people who love a show that is all about celebrating kindness) has been shaken to the core.

Which is why I currently honestly don't know what I'll do once s7 premieres. I'll watch it, obviously. And I am excited about some stuff I've seen. But will I write and gif? I don't know the answer yet. It's not a certain yes, it's not a certain no. I guess I'll see how I feel at every given moment. I'm not putting any pressure on myself one way or another. But I promise you that whether I post my Buddie content or not (let's be honest, if I watch 9-1-1, you better believe there will be Buddie content alive and kicking in my mind), I will never stop loving them, or thinking they're the ultimate battlefield boyfriends, and sweetest little family unit with Chris. :) And I know that if I do post, it would be an honor to be in this fandom with you, and those like you, who care about my people, and actually listen to Jewish voices (all of them, not just the few they can tokenize).

So... THANK YOU. I can't say that enough. And yes, I've moved into my new home, though it's not quite what it needs to be yet. But I'm getting there! Tiny steps still count, right? I'm sending you massive amounts of love, always! xoxox

[writingwhilecaffeinated]

Chapters: 10/12

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Anthony Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington, Violet Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington Characters: Penelope Featherington, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Daphne Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Jack Featherington, Prudence Featherington, Philippa Featherington Additional Tags: Depression, References to Depression, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Reverse Harem, Polyandry, No Incest, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Setting with Females Able to Inherit All Traditionally Male Titles, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Age Difference, Exhibitionism, Slight Character Study, Penelope Featherington Needs a Hug, Penelope Featherington Growth, Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Needs A Hug, Supportive Benedict Bridgerton, Protective Benedict Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton Doing Emotional Labor, Benedict Bridgerton Needs a Hug, Vaginal Fingering, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Sex, Oral Sex Summary:

“I never said I was an easy teacher. I will challenge you. I will push you. But I will help you be great.”

Something about the way he said those words awoke something inside her. A desire, a need, to prove people wrong. To prove to her mother and sisters that she could turn the estate around and support all of them despite the fact they wouldn’t lift a finger to help her. To prove the plethora of men who dominated the House of Lords wrong, because she knew they would take one look at her and assume she’d be weak because she was a woman.

But, crucially, to prove herself wrong. To squash her self-doubt and succeed where she believed she would fail.

____

Due to a new law and a surprise will and testament, Penelope inherits her father's title as Baron on his death. Terrified and lacking in confidence, she is surprised when Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and his brother, Benedict, offer to help her take the title, claw her family out of debt, and become a powerful, flourishing figure.

The three of them have no idea what this deal will set in motion.

Source: archiveofourown.org

[illegiblewords]

Serious talk about meta under the cut.

I don't know who might need to hear it, but fwiw mental flexibility is a huge part of analysis (and interacting with other humans lol). You need to be able to account for multiple possibilities when examining a work, or understanding a social exchange. You need to be able to separate what is objective fact from your own subjective interpretation and judgment. The most negative interpretation is not automatically the most worthwhile or true. Someone throwing accusations around in-line with their own worst interpretations does not guarantee those accusations are warranted. You are not a bad or stupid person for disagreeing. Shit needs to withstand scrutiny. I don't always strike the right balance myself. I do the best I can but I'm definitely not perfect. Tbh I'm not beyond pettiness either--although I try to keep that out of actual analysis lol. There have been times I've griped to friends privately or blogged about how I felt (sans tags, with spoiler blocks so people can opt out). I've griped recently. I'm bound to gripe again in the future. Some level of griping is inevitable imo and I figure no one is 100% immune.

All that said, even if someone’s take isn't canon AND even if it's something I really dislike--I'd personally rather people follow their passions anyway. Hands down. I could be in the middle of a rant and my answer would still be that the subject of my frustration gets to exist. I'm not the boss and odds are we're going with different versions in our own heads. Discouraging another fan from creating due to my preferences or narrative approach would horrify me. I've seen fandoms where gatekeeping like that killed the creative community and it was fucking awful.

Not everyone is confident in their own judgment. Not everyone faced with a pissed off person trying to use lore and accusations like clubs will feel okay continuing with their own vision. Elitism and manipulation (especially through rhetoric) can be present within analysis. People are not being taught how to recognize those things properly. Analysts aren't always aware or invested enough to even be careful. It’s legit easy to get caught up in ideas or feelings to the point of forgetting about other people’s, and adjusting to account for alternate approaches takes some work. For me at least, I think having a 'no insults' policy and being super careful when it comes to absolute claims (assertions not qualified by 'I think' or 'it could be argued') helps.

Anyway. Just because a person calls something ‘meaningless’ doesn't make it meaningless. Someone pooh-poohing an observation you made doesn't make your observation less true or important. Employing a literary term doesn't mean that individual actually understands the term, how it works, or how to apply it. Which is to say nothing of romantic chemistry or whatever. I encourage readers to extrapolate on this. ‘Shallow’ could apply as much as ‘meaningless’. Denying parallels exist by itself doesn’t actually negate those parallels. Your version of a character may not be the same as the fan next to you’s and that difference doesn't have to detract. There's more I could say on the subject (I've edited out a lot) but basically--just because another fan isn't into what you're doing doesn't automatically make what you're doing wrong, immoral, shoddy, or otherwise less.

Seriously, vet shit. Question the entire premise an analyst tries to establish then decide for yourself if it holds water. Turn over word choices and assertions in your head before deciding if they're appropriate. Do it to me too. I don't care if someone is the holy goddamn emperor of analysts. Just because a person says something is good or bad, true or false, whatever the hell doesn't make it so. Just because a person uses a technical term doesn't mean they're discussing it effectively. Quality of argument matters beyond the packaging it’s wrapped in. It's important to protect yourself from people whose priority is enforcing their own preferences, including dismissing things they aren't partial to.

I just don't want anyone shamed silent man. Not even people whose takes drive me up the fucking wall. Neither I nor any other analyst is an authority here. And there are people who are absolutely ready to take advantage of other people’s insecurities to assert themselves. Might not even be malicious, just indifferent.

For me, analysis feels kind of like uncovering a dinosaur skeleton. I want to share the cool and exciting things I find with other people. Sometimes I might be sorting out what my own thoughts and feelings are. It's also possible to examine why you're uncomfortable with something, or why you love something another person hates, while making very clear what is YOUR READING and not THE READING. Offering a variety of possibilities is very different from presenting yourself as the only correct one. One note at the end when everything else was insulting and intolerant is like a band-aid over a wound.

EDIT: As a last point, that I'm throwing in just-in-case. If anyone reading this thinks they may have overreached and done stuff I've mentioned + feels shitty about it… that's still not the end of the world. It’s okay. This is hard stuff to learn and I really don't think anyone's perfect at it. Worth the effort though. Just gotta take a deep breath, acknowledge you're a fallible human same as everyone else, and do the best you can going forward. Life goes on.

[jeannereames]

Would you say that reading popular history is a good entryway into academic history? Not necessarily as a scholar but also as an interested layperson who's interested in the subject

Reading Pop[ular] History

Sure, it is. As is historical fiction … as long as it’s well-done.

That’s the crux. Some pop history is quite good. Some…not so much. The problem for the average layperson is figuring out which is which. Who can I trust? (Near the end are some pragmatic tips to help you answer that question.)

Publishing houses want to sell books. This is different from academic presses. The latter also want to sell books but their (acceptable) profit margins are lower and they make their money via textbooks. Peer-reviewed academic works are published for status/reputation. They don’t expect those books to make money. In fact, academic monographs typically lose money—yes even at the exorbitant prices they charge. This is (one reason) your textbooks cost so much.*

By contrast, the reason (regular) publishers put out pop history IS to make money. Of course they want those books to be well-reviewed, but because it helps sales. So, they’re interested in signing authors they consider to be good writers—people who can spin an engaging (non-fiction) story. That may not be the top experts in the field.

In academia, the focus is on quality ideas, which (alas) may be conveyed in rather turgid, passive-voice prose. Sure, good scholars can also be good writers, but I fear it’s more often the exception than the rule. In Alexander studies, my mentor-advisor, Gene Borza, also happened to be a good writer. So is Beth Carney. So is Ed Anson. One of the best, however, was Peter Green. I may not always agree with his scholarship, but the man could write. He penned not only academic history, but also essays (I highly recommend both In the Shadow of the Parthenon and Classical Bearings), as well as historical fiction. His biography on Alexander is still widely read, and his MONSTER tome Alexander to Actium did what very, very few academic books do: it made money for University of Cal Press. Paul Cartledge (who also wrote a bio on ATG) is another such. I don’t think he’s as good as Peter, but he’s up there in his ability to turn a memorable phrase and get across his ideas to the average reader. It’s why he gets tapped to write books outside his field of specialization. There are a small passel of such academic pop history authors: Adrian Goldsworthy (who also wrote on ATG), James Romm (who wrote on ATG’s Successors), Robin Waterfield, Mary Beard, Michael Grant, etc. All of them are legit scholars who turn out books that aren’t necessarily in their specialization.

By specialization, I mean the field they publish in academically. We all teach classes on topics we wouldn’t dare to publish in for our peers. Pop history is closer to teaching classes, in that regard. For one thing, specializations in academic publishing get quite narrow, and pop history tends to be on broader topics. Take my own current academic book. Sure, a few of you may look forward to a work on Hephaistion (and Krateros), but the average fan of history perusing shelves for their next hit doesn’t even know who they ARE. They won’t pick up a pop history book about them (unless—maybe—the title is “sexy” enough to sell it).

When it comes to pop history, publishers fear that knowing too much about a field interferes with one’s ability to write for a non-specialist audience. That applies to textbooks too. Ergo, publishers sometimes solicit books from “specialist-adjacent” people. Carol Thomas’s Alexander the Great and His World is of that type. Carol is a specialist in Early Iron Age Greece, but she knows/is friends with a number of Macedoniasts as well as Greek archaeologists, so Blackwell invited her to write that book. She approached it with due care and humility. (I remember her preparing for it, asking Gene and others lots of questions.)

Paul Cartledge’s bio of Alexander runs along those lines. His real specialization is Sparta, but he’s written some general books on Greek history that sold well. I don’t know if he was asked to write the ATG book, but it’s made money for Random House. I don’t agree with swathes of it, but his take follows in the footsteps of Green and Bosworth, who are Macedoniasts. It’s far from a bad book, comparatively. Even so, I wouldn’t assign it as a textbook in my ATG class, precisely because I don’t agree with chunks. I’ve been using Lindsay Adams’ Alexander the Great: Legacy of a Conqueror or Brian Bosworth’s (now old) Conquest and Empire: the Reign of Alexander the Great, or Ed Anson’s Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues. Considering Hugh Bowden’s Alexander the Great: a Very Short Introduction too. Part of my choice lies with the fact those four are Macedoniasts and publish in the field, but I wouldn’t use Ian Worthington’s books on ATG, although he’s also a Macedoniast, nor Peter Green’s, nor NGL Hammond’s either. My views differ from theirs as either too negative or (Hammond) overly positive.

Back to my point. Cartledge may not be a Macedoniast but at least he’s a Greek historian and works in the right era. By contrast, Adrian Goldsworthy (Philip and Alexander) is further afield because not only is he not a Macedoniast, he’s a specialist on Rome. What of his book I’ve looked at, I found a bit dated compared to where most current scholarship stands. Yet he’s still a professional historian. Philip Freeman is similar to Goldsworthy. He’s a real scholar, if not a specialist on Alexander. He works in Classical Philology and Celtic Languages. Anthony Everitt isn’t even in Classics, but (European) visual and performing arts. Nonetheless, those authors have written books on significant ancient figures that sold well, so publishers trust they can write a selling nonfiction book.

All that helps to explain why pop history may not necessarily reflect the most recent work in the field.

Also, sometimes an author will go for the “sexy” idea because they think (not without cause) that it’ll sell better/appeal more. They’ll justify it with, “Well, some scholars did say that….” I ran into this excuse a lot when working with the Netflix people. If they wanted to go in a direction I disliked—such as Olympias’s putative involvement in Philip’s death—their reason/excuse was, “Well, the ancient sources say that and other scholars believe it.”

Five Tips to Check the Quality of Your Pop History Book

(all the below assume you don’t have a convenient specialist friend to ask…)

First, look at the publication date. History research can move quickly. If the book is more than 20 years old, it may be stale. Yet copyright date isn’t always the kiss of death; I still recommend Brian Bosworth’s 1988 Conquest and Empire on Alexander. Yes, a few things are out-of-date, but it’s generally an even-handed intro to his career, despite being 35+ years old. Nonetheless, if you know nothing about a field, older books might not be the best place to start.

Second, research the author. Who are they? Are they an academic at all? If their bio just says “historian,” they might have nothing higher than a BA/BS. Assuming they are a professional historian, do they publish academically in the subfield they’re writing about? If not, is it at least in the broader field? If not the broader field, is it adjacent? The further an author’s academic work from the subject matter, the more likely you’re getting either stale or limited research.

Third, watch out for sensationalist language in blurbs—even if the author is a specialist. For instance, the blurb for Ian Worthington’s 2004 Alexander the Great: Man and God, says:

Alexander the Great conquered territories on a superhuman scale and established an empire that stretched from Greece to India. He spread Greek culture and education throughout his empire, and was worshipped as a living god by many of his subjects. But how great is a leader responsible for the deaths on tens of thousands of people? A ruler who prefers constant warring to administering the peace? A man who believed he was a god, who murdered his friends, and recklessly put his soldiers lives at risk? Ian Worthington delves into Alexander's successes and failures, his paranoia, the murders he engineered, his megalomania, and his constant drinking. It presents a king corrupted by power and who, for his own personal ends, sacrificed the empire his father had fought to establish.

Put that puppy down! While authors don’t usually write their own book blurbs, they approve them, and if the first paragraph asks some legit (if harsh) questions, the second paragraph suggests a book with an extreme view. Depending on the subject, it might be justified, but I’m typically suspect of sensationalist history. 😉

Fourth, if you can, flip to the bibliography. How extensive is it? How recent are the entries? Does it include not just monographs (books), but also articles/book chapters? Does it include articles that aren’t in English? Possibly the author was told to submit a limited bibliography, but a thin, mostly book (no/few articles)** biblio more likely suggests the writer lacks the background needed to cover the topic well. (Some pop history books don’t even have a bibliography, which I also consider a red flag.)

Last, read a few reviews, and not on Goodreads or Amazon (although some reviews on those sites are fine). How is the book received, particularly by reviewers who might know a thing or three about the topic? If no reviews are from academics or specialists, steer clear. I don’t care of Oprah likes it. Ha.

The best pop history (in terms of historical accuracy) is rarely the most popular, in terms of sales, for the simple reason that real history is messy and complicated. The casual reader usually wants something simpler. Yet if you’re serious about learning a topic, you do want something messy and complicated! E.g., with nuance.

So yes, pop history can be well-done and a perfectly valid place for the interested-but-discerning non-specialist to begin. If I believed it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be writing on Tumblr. 😉

And who knows, maybe I’ll sit down someday to write my own pop history take on Alexander.

——————

* Color illustrations and higher-quality paper are some others causes for high costs. Paper in general is expensive. But there’s still a mark-up to cover the production-cost losses incurred by purely academic books, most of which are sold to libraries.

** In many fields of history, especially ancient history, cutting edge research appears first in ARTICLE form and may never even make it to a book. Researchers who utilize only books (monographs) are therefore missing a lot.

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

if these characters were humans in like another universe 😭

would they be religious and what religion? do they already have a religion?

The characters definitely have relationships with religion in the comic, so I’m going to address what happens in the canon verse since it applies to their human selves (with the exception of the Nightshades). Long post ahoy!

The majority of the rodent population/society in this story is very much a reflection of human society. Because mice and rats live beneath the human world and very much live off of it, their society is essentially an echo of it. As Baji once said, “It reflects our world, but on a smaller scale.”

So man made creations are utilized by the mice/rat population for their own purposes, with their own unique takes on them. Rodents borrow/make copies of artwork and literature and music that humans have created - there’s no Mouse Vincent Van Gogh or Mouse Charlotte Brontë, but there’s mouse made copies of “Starry Night” and “Jane Eyre”, if that helps explain it. They take what they want from human society and either copy it as closely as they can, or they refashion it to suit their purposes.

This includes religion. Rodents are aware of the concept of God, a figure named Jesus, how Christianity and Judaism and other major religions work/influence the world of humans because the human world directly affects their own. They are influenced the most by the humans they had the closest contact to. The family that lives above them is Catholic? They follow Catholic traditions. If a Jewish human family had to move because of a pogrom, the mouse family under them would have to leave too.

Now, like I said, there are some twists/adaptions made. Rodents revere food above all else, and that has influenced how they view certain religious beliefs. In regards to Christianity, mice take this particular passage very literally:

And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me.

So there’s this idea in Rodent Christianity (a term I never thought I would write) that Christ is akin to bread, or even that he literally is bread, nourishing and sustaining. So they’ve gotten “Christ” and “crust” mixed up a bit - they’ll say things like “Holy Crust!” or “Sweet Crust!”

NOW, having gotten all of that established…let’s see where our crew of characters fall in this scheme…

Regal is a staunch atheist. The Regal’s were raised Catholic, but he doesn’t have any inclination or interest towards religion of any sort - he has come to see it as a way to control people, shame them into behaving themselves so they’re easier for people in power to control. Honestly, I can’t see any of the remaining Regal family members being religious. They attended mass as children but it never was something they really connected with - Sorcha enjoyed the music, but she hates being lectured and that’s what sermons felt like for her. None of them are fans of the hypocrisy that the church holds, either, nor that their sexual preferences are seen as sinful…so yeah, I can’t see any of them wanting to go back to mass.

Locke has faith in science and justice, in facts and data, and that’s it - he and Regal definitely connected over both of them being atheists. His family went to church because it was the “proper and respectable thing to do”, but Little Locke would constantly question the pastor and freaked everyone in his Sunday school out when he told them the science behind crucifying.

Levi is Jewish, and he keeps kosher and takes part in major holidays. He’s very proud of being Jewish and I think he genuinely believes in a loving God, but I don’t think he attends temple all that often if at all since he’s never hidden that he’s a sex worker and the people there would definitely shun him because of his profession. Abraham is also very proud of being Jewish, and is very much an atheist.

Rilla attends church with her father because it’s expected of a wealthy, blue blood, but struggles with faith after her mother died. She believes in kindness and compassion and generosity, and doesn’t feel like those are solely Christian things.

Brig is also an atheist, she’s had way too much experience about the cruelty done in the name of religion. Her mother believed very strongly in the lore of fairies, the ways of the old country, and Brig still keeps that alive in her own way by celebrating Beltane and Samhain and Yule.

Luella was raised Christian and I think she identifies as one still, but she struggles with it very much. She’s very conscious of the hypocrisy and cruelty done in the name of religion, and constantly reflects on how there’s so much cruelty and unkindness and tragedy in the world…why would a loving God allow that? But at the same time, she prays almost daily and believes so deeply in giving grace and practicing selflessness and kindness. She has faith, but she struggles.

As for Bogdan and Casimir and their mother, they’re unique in that they have the only purely rodent born religion in that they revere the stars and the moon. They believe that when a bat dies, their soul sheds its mortal body to ascend as a star, safe in the eternal night with the maternal moon to watch over them. Charting the stars is not just pragmatic, but deeply spiritual. They have many fables and tales about the moon and the stars and bats who now look down on them from the sky…as humans, I think that would translate into considering astrology akin to spirituality. But that’s something we’re still exploring!

As more characters enter the story we’ll be touching on their relationship to their respective religion! Thank you so much for this question, it really let me deep sea dive into the lore of our world!