“Futa fiction comes from the Japanese term futanari, and generally refers to erotic fiction where characters have both male and female anatomical features. It’s niche, it’s quirky—and it’s a perfect example of how wonderfully fractured fiction has become. These days there’s a sub-genre for every taste… and half the fun is discovering something new.”
Several brave souls asked AI to generate crochet patterns—and then crocheted them exactly as written. The results? Somewhere between “avant-garde art piece” and “woolly cryptid escaped from the yarn stash.”
Why do I prefer ancient history over medieval? Because when it comes to science, culture—and especially women’s rights—the ancients had it going on. Celtic women owned property, led armies (hi, Boudicca), and could even shame their husbands for underperforming in bed. Compare that to medieval Europe, where married women basically vanished from the legal record. This post dives into why I’ll always pick a toga over a tabard, and why history, like fiction, is better when women get to speak.
Fantasy is having a moment—and romance readers might just find their next favorite story nestled between spellbooks and cinnamon rolls. Cozy fantasy offers the emotional warmth, character depth, and satisfying endings romance fans already love. Here’s why this booming genre might be your perfect next read—and where to start exploring.
Passing for local could be life or death. A British spy in WWII might lose everything over the way a button was sewn, or how he held up three fingers. It’s the tiniest details that betray us—on the battlefield, in foreign lands, or even just trying to order coffee after moving countries. Trust me: I’ve lived it. The wrong Tuesday nearly gave me a migraine.
Ever felt that gut-punch of inadequacy scrolling past yet another impossibly slender model? I’ve spent years battling that feeling—until I stumbled upon a dead-simple image hack that flipped the script on photoshopped perfection. This post dives into the body distortion we’re fed daily, and the oddly calming trick that helped me reclaim a little peace (and joy in fashion again).
Can we talk about the death grip serial killers have on romantic suspense?
Sometimes, a setting sneaks up on you. It’s not the glittering castle or the misty forest that sparks the story,
Hot plum pudding with brandy sauce. Pumpkin pie, fresh out of the oven, melting into the custard. Home-baked cookies, or a cake cooling on the counter. You can smell them before you even see them.
Or maybe it’s red wine steeped with cinnamon and cloves—the siren song of mulled wine calling you home on a winter’s night.
Croissants in Paris, still warm, with real butter and even more real European coffee—dark, rich, and blessed with that smoky caramel scent you only get from beans grown halfway across the world.
Roasts. Gravy. Toasted bread. Spiced fruit. Deep-fried anything.
There’s something about a good mystery that just gets under your skin, isn’t there? The kind that makes you sit up a little straighter when it shows up in a documentary at 11:30 p.m. and suddenly you have to know what happened. Amelia Earhart is one of those mysteries. Maybe the mystery.
