#<- my horror thoughts/reviews tag

[owlbelly]

found an 80s hardcover of Cabal in the thrift store & grabbed it because i had completely forgotten i'd ever read it (which tells you something!!!) & thought "oh yeah i love Nightbreed, i should really read this one"

truly incredible how much the movie is just exactly the book, except you get a little more interiority for Lori & more interesting descriptions of the monsters - i love the practical effects & costuming in the movie but they just couldn't pull off what Barker actually wrote. but oh man this story in either form just epitomizes my love/hate relationship with the dude's work. it's got so much potential. it's so, so bad. Cabal (1988) / Nightbreed (1990) spoilers ahead

i mean come on: queer monster misfit sanctuary vs. the "real monsters" of policing & carceral mental health systems (that enable & provide cover for sadistic humans)? fuck yes. vivid descriptions of wild genderfucky polyamorous kinky mystical creatures living in their huge necropolis? all day long please

but Clive's brilliance is only matched by how much he sucks so we get an incredibly bullshit portrayal of mental illness (what's Boone's deal? we'll never know. it doesn't matter, it only matters that he's Beautiful and Tortured) & a fairly confused sense of the moral standing of various characters/systems. like. are at least some of the Breed not also sadistic killers? what exactly makes them better than Decker or the cops - is it just that they admit to what they do & they're more sexually liberated? would Decker have been accepted if he came to them looking for belonging? also are we meant to think Decker is "mentally ill" - and what does that mean for the narrative - or is the Mask literally a separate entity & does that make him/it a Breed-type monster too?

Boone calls Ashberry a monster (non-pejoratively?) for being secretly some kind of trans ("a crossdresser" but there are some other vague gestures towards gender stuff, Clive doesn't know or care) & then Ashberry, who has been trying to stop the massacre, appears to genuinely want to accept himself & join the Breed, but when he comes into contact with Baphomet (who should recognize his gender stuff!) he gets rejected & fucked all the way up instead. why?

the queerness in this story is all over the place but critics seem weirdly obsessed with a queer reading of Boone/Decker, which i just don't see at all - in the movie there's NOTHING backing that up, in the book there's some bits of narration around them being "like lovers" in terms of their mutual dependence/obsession - but Boone & Lori's very straight relationship is pretty centered! i would be super interested in a queer and/or trans reading of Lori, who actually has some dysphoria (around looking "sweet") & thinks about herself when she's jacking off (iconic...), i just don't think there's anything interesting going on with Boone. obviously the Breed as a whole are a queer allegory & in the movie & background of the book, there are some obviously queer people/relationships, but honestly why tell this queers vs. the straight world story by focusing on an apparently straight, extremely lackluster "tortured man & devoted woman" romance??

and good lord the sex scene. the reason i remembered i HAD read it is that the phrase "he threw his fuck up into her" was burned into my mind & activated me like a sleeper agent when i read it again. honey no. also Boone ejaculating on Baphomet's severed head...oh Clive.

the funniest thing i'm taking away is that i forgot that Boone is supposed to be a bewitchingly gorgeous man with a face no one can resist & the guy playing him in the movie looks like THIS

[galaxionart]

Lisa Frankenstein: The only 80’s based rom-com I have ever adored!

And the only one with a scene of the silhouette of a guy’s package flying through the air splattering blood in slow motion to the tune of “On The Wings of Love” 💕🤣

ArtStation: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/1NNVR3

[always-a-joyful-note]

All right. Time to ramble about a new thing that grabbed me by the neck and didn't let me go until I finished all available episodes.

That new thing, my friends, would be the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. And despite being terrible at writing proper reviews and hardly ever doing it, I'm gonna do my best to give a semi-coherent review of why you should listen to this funky little Australian podcast.

So! I see a lot of people comparing Mistholme to Magnus Archives. ..and while that definitely works, I also want to both compare it to Welcome to Night Vale and Wolf 359 for its at times very cavalier attitude towards the unexplained and its exploration on personhood and humanity.

Seriously, though. What I LOVE about this podcast, asides from the philosophical and discoursey tidbits that make the nerd in me go absolutely bonkers, is the way that while it is very much horror and mystery, it's just not that.

Like...it's a museum about supernatural occurrences and terrors, and while a lot of stories do end in creepy, bone-chilling ways, there's also stories that end ambiguously or happily. It's just people living in a world that happens to have alternatural items in it, and while many of the times things go horribly wrong, a lot of times things also can go right...or leave something good to think about. It's just...the best part about this podcast for me is how it's almost slice of life, but a slice of life that happens in a world of magic through the lens of a museum (literally ;)).

Moving on, though, I also seriously love how sometimes it gives off the feel of those educational shows where the characters talk to the audience. There's definitely some great meta moments (and y'all know how much I am wild over those), some stuff I DEARLY want to say about the second person voice but won't for coherence/spoilers. It blends genres - from sci-fi to horror to fantasy, etc. - and has an amazing meta mystery plot thread that just gets better and better as the show progresses.

More than that, though, I seriously just love the focus on worldbuilding. Ironically, this podcast is a MASTER at the show don't tell rule (with reasonable and very seamlessly woven ways of telling, too), and we gradually get to know of this world similar to our own but noooot quite right as the show progresses in a very organic way. And I'm also gonna seriously express the joy I feel in the ambiguity of the year in which the show is unraveling, as well as the ambiguity of how much the common public is aware of the alternatural and so many other things like that. Enough that you're not toooo curious about it but it still adds just another amazing element of story and FUN to this world.

The characters in this podcast - STARS THE CHARACTERS IN THIS PODCAST!! ATG (what I call the Audio Tour Guide)....well, other people have said it better than me but you WILL want to die for it and treasure it and protect it. The other characters that appear? Phenomenal, complex, just...people. And the VOICE ACTING IN THIS. I am....not a good judge of VAs, I'll admit, but just the voice acting in here. The subtle emotion and RANGE they give to their characters. How I'm able to almost SEE them all just from the way they speak. And the way they all develop, both silent AND speaking characters - I don't know how but Dom somehow made me love the mute or nonspeaking characters...or...just feel certain things for them ;)).

Just....plotwise, characterwise WORLDBUILDINGWISE (I am very much a fan of excellent, incredible worlds), performancewise, the themes and discourse on humanity and nature it invites, everything - solid 1000/10. It's really and seriously ranking up there with W359 as one of my favorite podcasts so far....

Now, of course, there will be some stuff that you may personally not find to taste like I did (what with the diverse stories and so on) but I don't think they belong in this review as they're more subjective opinions those up there were all objectively true despite my gushing I don't take arguments so we don't need that. I think the show really does its best in being respectful to all mythologies, religion, sociopitical issues, etc. that may crop up, and it keeps such an...objective? more hopeful? stance on almost every person narrated about (despite in-show opinions) that's kind of...well, refreshing I suppose? to hear? (Maybe the best way to explain it is that its neutral tone allows people, evil and good, to be people without betraying its show's own ethical code.)

Anyway, yeah....I love Mistholme. I love ATG and co. I love the VA and their voice and all other voices once again I ask why are podcaster voices so nice to hear? I love LOVE the individual stories and their unique way of just...revealing the world of Mistholme. And yes, again, I really love all its themes and the Thoughts(tm) they invite or that invade your brain space.

Anyway, with that, I'm still not forgiving the creator for s4 despite being on s5, how DARE -

And secondly, if I had a nickel for everytime an Aussie creator made an urban fantasy world with some of the best worldbuilding and character arcing and plot twisting I've seen, I'd have 2 nickels which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice...

Comparisons and jokes asides, though, you really WILL love this world on its own. And maybe scream a little in wounded agony. But that's just the fun of visiting a museum of mystery, morbidoty, and mortality right?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don't ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You keep to yourself. That’s the safest, the easiest way to live. You keep your head down, your eyes to yourself, your voice bottled up. 

You grip your phone as you approach the coffee shop. You stand on your toes to see through the painted windows and frown at the long queue. You won’t have to worry about that. Like everything else social, you’ve found a work around. 

You look at your phone, the app showing your order as ‘preparing’. It should be done shortly as the progress bar fills close to complete. You can bear the claustrophobia for a minute or so until it’s ready. 

You go to open the door but an arm reaches past you and does that first. You step back, patiently waiting for the other customer to precede you. They don’t move. You stare at their shoes. Dark blue velvet loafers with gold emblems on chains.  

“Go on, baby face, I got it,” the man’s voice makes your skin crawl. 

You shrink down and give a nod, throat clenching as you struggle to find your voice. You’re not much for conversation but you’re but impolite. 

“Thanks,” you force out without raising your head. 

You scurry through quickly, a bit to close to the stranger than you like, and you clasp your phone against your chest as you stand just away from the cluster of people awaiting their orders. You bounce on your feet as the noises join together to form a cacophony; the hissing steam, the clanging metal, the clinking porcelain, the calls of the workers behind the counter, and the buzz of the crowd seated or standing around the cafe. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck as the chaos swirls a storm around you. 

You pull your phone away from the front of your pullover and check the screen. Should be ready any moment and you’ll be free of the circus. You adjust your grip on the phone, almost jittery as another customer joins the wait at the pick up window. 

You breathe out. It’s not usually this busy at this time. You have a routine. You can handle the expected. You order on your phone so you don’t need to talk to anyone. You wait outside until it’s almost done then come in too quickly claim your prize. But not today, something’s different and it’s throwing everything off. 

It’s only on Wednesday’s that you venture down to the cafe. It’s the halfway point of your week so you mark it with a taste of motivation. The same order every week. A London fog latte. Simple and affordable. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. 

Your name cuts through the din, “...medium London fog.” 

You drop your arm to your side and set your shoulders. You march forward through the parting bodies ahead of you and reach for the cup. Before you can grasp it, someone else scoops it up. You nearly cry out in horror. Someone’s stealing your order! 

You turn to the tea thief but they make no move to flee. They hold the cup nonchalantly, turning it to read the sticker on the side, reciting the same name that just rose from the barista’s lips seconds ago. You face the stranger but again, your eyes are downward.

The blue loafers! 

“Cute name,” he comments as he holds the cup out. 

You once more try to take the cup but before you can, he has it out of reach again. Your lashes flick and your fingers twiddle helplessly. His large hand is firmly around the cup so even if you did try to wrestle it from him, you doubt you’d have any hope but to spill it all. 

You look around but no one else seems to notice. They’re all staring at their phones or talking with the person next to them. The staff behind the counter are too busy appeasing the rush of orders. 

“I’ve never tried one of these,” he taunts, “I’m more of a ristretto guy. Like my espresso.” 

You shake your head and rescind your hand, balling it against your fist. What does he want? Why is he bothering you? You said thank you. Did he not hear you? 

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he pushes the tea towards you, “there you are, sweat pea.” 

You hesitate. You slowly unfurl your fingers and reach for the cup. As you wrap your fingers around it, you can’t help but brush his. Thick and strong and unmoving. He clings to it for just a moment before he lets you have it. 

“Thanks,” you squeak again, this time louder so he certainly hears you. 

“You got a sweet voice,” he puts his hand on his hip, a glimpse of a shiny gold watch face peeking out from beneath his sleeve, “I’d love to hear more of it.” 

Your eyes round as you focus on the zipper of his thin jacket. You shake your head and meekly raise your cup awkwardly and dip your chin slightly. No thanks. 

You turn and weave your way back through the crowd. Your heart is thumping in your chest. What an odd encounter. 

More so, you’re dismayed that he saw you. That he noticed you. For years, you’ve done your best to be invisible. You prefer it that way. You don’t even think your neighbours know you exist. But that man, he seemed to see nothing but you. 

You push outside and nearly drop your cup. You try to steady yourself. You’re all knotted up and tense. You tuck your phone into your back pocket and bring the cup before you nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the foam. Something about it isn’t as soothing as usual. 

You turn down the pavement and wince as a sole scuffs close behind you. Suddenly, another set of steps walk next to yours, measured to keep in tandem with your own short legs. Blue velvet.  

You walk faster. Is he following you? Why? What does he want? He’s much taller, you can’t outpace him. 

“You know, when I said I’d like to hear more, I thought maybe over a coffee?” He suggests. 

You don’t say a word as you keep your eyes forward, squeezing your cup tight as you try not to swish it around too much. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Men don’t see you. There was a time you hated that but since, you were grateful for that. 

“I mean, I could do most of the talking, never had much of a trouble with that, jellybean,” he offers. 

You shake your head. Your throat tightens. You can’t speak. You want to scream but you can’t make a noise. 

As you get to the corner, you stop short. He steps past you but just as quickly catches himself and turns to face you. You gulp and look down at your cup. You can’t keep going. If you do, you’ll lead him right to your home. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart? You forget something? How about we head back and I’ll buy you something sugary to go with that?” 

You furrow your brow and step back on your heel. You bring your eyes up, a furtive glance at his face, brief and flickering. You just want to know what he looks like so you never see him again. 

His blue eyes twinkle, his nose is long but proportioned to his chiseled face, his hair is combed back, the sides shaved, and a thick swatch of hair lines his upper lip. He’s older than you, you know that much, but you’ve never good at gauging age. You’ve never seen him before but you can’t be sure. You don’t look at many faces. 

You pivot and cross the street without looking. You narrowly miss a bumper and get a honk in remonstrance. You can’t stop yourself. You’re panicking. You head down the next street as his footsteps follow. It’s all you can hear.  

As you pass a bin, you dump the drink. You don’t pause as it plummets heavily into the trash and you fall into a brisk half-jog. You pump your arms, puffing wildly, dizzy as you search for a saviour.  

You dash into the library. You don’t know what you’re looking for. Just for anyone to get this man to leave you alone. 

You don’t look back as you enter and head straight for the front counter. You’re out of breath as you approach the rounded edge and tap the bell frantically. A woman emerges from behind the window wall and she greets you with a confused chime. 

“Hello, can I help you?” She asks. 

“Yes, I need...” you gulp and glance at the doors. You push away from the counter and spin, searching. You don’t see the man. He’s probably waiting outside. But you never looked back. You never really saw if he was following. “I...” you turn back to the woman, “never mind.” 

You cross your arms and turn away. You cringe as you realise how ridiculous you must have seemed. Worse, you didn’t mean to bother someone just doing their job and over what? You’re own issues. You should go home, back to your reclusion, where you can’t be in anyone’s way. 

👄

When you finally muster the courage to leave the library, your journey home is slowed by your paranoia. You have your phone out, held up so you can see over your shoulder with the front camera. You watch the screen more than the sidewalk ahead of you. 

You get home without a second shadow. As you let yourself through the grated front door of the building, you can’t help but feel stupid. That man must’ve got the idea when you as good as ran in the other direction. You’re being dramatic. 

You close the camera and put your phone away. You waist six dollars in your frantic flight. You mourn the tea latte as the heavy inner door clunks shut behind you. You drag your feet up the stairs as your keys jingle on your finger. 

You apartment is at the very end of the hall. You enter and twist the latch. You slide the chain into place and hang the key ring on the little hook beside the door frame. You untangle your purse and leave it with your phone on the table in the corner. 

You shuffle the few feet to the front room and look around. You find comfort in the familiarity of your little apartment. Your hideaway. 

You go back to your desk and sign back in. You’re back later than usual but you can still make up the time. As long as there’s enough tasks left in the portal. You don’t have to let that man ruin your whole day. You’ll never see him again. In a few days, you won’t even remember him. 

👄

Wednesday. Halfway through the week.  

You scroll and click around your screen as you watch the clock in the corner tick on. Usually around this time, you’d be excited. You’d clock out for your break and go down to the cafe. As much as you looked forward to the treat, the walk alone was relaxing in its own way. 

Not that day. Despite your efforts to shrug off the strange encounter, you haven’t shaken it. So instead, the kettle boils as a bag of earl gray sits in an empty mug. You’re not going. Maybe next week. 

You’re a bit depressed but you’re too nervous to make the venture. Oh well, you’ll save a bit of money. You could find a different place next time. That might be easier. 

You stay logged in and claim a new task. Hey, you can be done work earlier if you can power through. You might even make a few extra bucks. 

The kettle clicks and you get up to pour the water. You leave it to steep, forgetting it for the screen before you. Your fingers tap endlessly across the keyboard, filling the silence as you zone in on the words, transcribing messy ink to Times New Roman. 

Your trance is broken by a sudden buzz. You sit up, the kink in your neck pangs. You need to stop hunching. The buzz comes again. Is that... It must be a mistake. It happens now and then, someone buzzes the wrong apartment. 

You get up as it sounds a third time and you shuffle down to the speaker box. You hit the button, “wrong number.” 

“No--” 

You let go of the number before you can hear the response. They buzz again. You sigh. You hit the button. 

“I’m sorry but you have the wrong number,” you repeat. 

“I don--” 

You release the button again and take a step back. Buzz! You’re getting annoyed. You hit the button. “Wrong--” 

“Got a delivery. 212.” The man’s voice drowns out your own, reciting your name after your apartment number. Your finger stays on the button as you frown. A delivery? 

“I’m not expecting a delivery.” 

“Are you...” he says your name again. 

“... yes.” 

Silence, filled with the low hum of the speaker, “so, can I come up or...?” 

“Uh, I guess.” 

You pull your finger away and hover it over the other. Maybe it’s from work? There was the one time they sent a cheap mass production travel mug with their logo on it as some incentive. A poor attempt at employee appreciation. 

You press down and hold until you’re certain they have enough time to get in. You wait by the door, ringing your hands. You hear the door at the end of the hall open on its old hinges and you peek through the peephole. 

You watch the fuzzy figure come into focus with each of his long steps. He doesn’t hold a box nor wear the uniform of a postal worker. No, he wears those blue leather loafers and holds a bright pink paper cup with a white lid. From the cafe.  

As he comes close, you get a pigeon’s eye view of the hair on his upper lip and his bold blue eyes. It feels like he can see you too as he stands smirking on the other side of the door. This can’t be real. 

He knocks and you wince as the door shifts in the frame. 

“Special delivery,” he calls through, “open up, baby face.” 

[bootstrapparadoxed]

Hello writeblr! I'm looking for more people to follow because I want to tag people in writing games and generally participate more in the community. I would love to follow writers of SFFH, especially sci-fi and horror of all subgenres. Bonus points if you're queer and/or neurodivergent.

A bit about me:

I'm a twenty-something writer of sci-fi and horror; I'm queer and AuDHD. I also have a video essay youtube channel that I post on occasionally. My debut novel - a queer, existential space adventure titled Up the Entropic Hill - came out this year from an indie publisher. I post writing updates, book reviews, and random thoughts. You can find a link to my works here and intro to my current WIP here. I follow from my main, @casual-eumetazoa.

Reply, reblog, or like this post if you want another follower!

[hime-bee]

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR HOMICIPHER

So I haven't gotten ALL the endings yet, but I did get the "True End", and I've unlocked almost all the CG's, so I wanna give my thoughts on the game. This isn't a full/formal review, it's just my thoughts/first impressions, since it's gonna take me a lot longer to digest a story this big and complex 😩✌🏾

(Spoilers Below)

First things first, I do love this game! The concept in and of itself intrigued me so much so that I was looking for updates constantly. I really appreciate Yatsunagi's work, they always do such a good job with the art, characters, and story in their works! Now, I think my biggest gripe with the game is the lack of romance. The promise of being able to romance monster men was what drew me even further to the game originally, and it's tagged as an "otome". I assumed there would be some kinda kissing, hand holding, romantic CG's, something. There's nothing like that, unfortunately. I think the closest you get to "romance", is maybe... Headpats.

I know people are already gonna be telling me, "it's a horror game, stop bitching about there being next to no romance". And to that I say: refer to my earlier point.

Another thing I thought was odd (at least to my understanding, since the translations I had in-game may not be accurate), is that there's at least two Male Leads that don't... Understand love/feelings, so pursuing them is kind of futile. Again, kinda odd in an otome game.

Anyway, I'll finish this rant by saying that for my informal review, I'd still give the game a 4/5! Mr. Silver Hair and Mr. Scarletella, my beloved(s)...

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Hey bestie any zutara fic recs. I feel like I’ve read all the classics.

Hello anon! Oh boy have you come to the right place because I have read several million words of these two dorks falling in love and though I plan to read several million more, I am always down to screech about talented fanfic writers!!! Here are most of my faves, some of which you’ve probably read but my enthusiasm simply needs an outlet. No WIPs to minimize heartbreak.

In the spirit of not recommending too many classics, I’m not including anything from the first page of the Katara/Zuko tag on AO3 sorted by kudos, with one exception. Same rule does not apply to FF.net because nobody visits that site anymore, yet we mustn’t forget our roots!!! 

TL;DR of my Zutara Fic Recs: 

Half Asleep for a Miyazaki-esque adventure romance 

Southern Lights for a sweeping epic where A Song of Ice and Fire meets Middlemarch

Refraction for a swoon-worthy post-war political romance ft. Katara learning how to politick in a patriarchal world 

Stormbenders for a fun undercover romance that is a ZK classic for a very good reason 

Another Word for Alchemy and The Slow Path for hilarious yet emotionally compelling adventures with found family themes 

The Undying Fire for world-building, more Gaang shenanigans, and super satisfying slow canon divergence 

Katara Alone for our fave girl’s post-war Bildungsroman/travelogue/heroic tour

Simple Misunderstanding for a hilarious rendition of Ponytail Zuko capturing Katara and trying to not be a creep

Clothe Me in Seasons, Dress Me in Snow for a mostly canon-compliant (so, v angsty) story about the different ways that love can evolve 

And some one-shots and modern AUs I feel like deserve some more love 

Summaries, reviews, and general fangirling under the cut because holy shit this post is long lmao 

Long fics / series: 

Half Asleep, by crushinator | Rating: T | Word Count: 82,335

Summary: Five years after the Hundred-Year War, Fire Lord Zuko is hit with an assassin's dart, and falls into a coma from which he cannot wake. A week passes, and his prognosis is grim. But Katara could swear she hears him in her dreams.

My thoughts: this fic, in many ways, is novel quality. The pacing? Immaculate. The action scenes? Exciting and interesting yet super easy to visualize. The characterization? On point. Katara is peak Miyazaki heroine in this, setting out on a quest to the Spirit World to save her boy (who’s not really her boy) from whichever Eldritch horror has him in its clutches. I love the little glimpses we have of the mutual pining between Katara and Zuko, and there are no words to describe how much I love the resolution of Katara and Aang’s relationship in this story. And oh boy, is the climax of the fic super romantic. This is just a really well written, emotionally compelling, tight fic. Deserves to be a fandom classic. 

Southern Lights, by colourwhirled | Rating: M | Word Count: 769,274

Summary: A world where the Avatar has disappeared from memory. Where Sozin’s Conquest was successful. Where the unsteady order of the empire is threatened as members of the royal family are picked off one by one and lines are slowly drawn in the sand One last chance for peace forces an unlikely alliance between a homesick waterbender, a carefree Air Nomad, a runaway Earth Kingdom heiress, and the fire lord's inscrutable son. Together they must learn to shed old enmities and become the balance they seek to restore to the world.

OR:

The avatar has four heads.

My thoughts: Is it a Bildungsroman? Is it a war story? Is it a politics story? Is it a love story? Is it a friendship story? Is it a story about colonial violence and well-meaning complicity and finding justice in a world where it simply doesn’t seem to exist? Yes to all of the above, because at 700k+ words YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL. You know how Virginia Woolf once said that Middlemarch is one of the few novels written for grownups? Well, Southern Lights feels adult, not because of violence or sex or general grimness (looking at you, HBO), but because it’s fundamentally about having the courage to make choices, live with the consequences, and make more choices, and repeat that over and over again. If Katara is a Miyazaki heroine in Half Asleep, she is full on Daenarys (pre-character assassination) in Southern Lights, a heroine who gets put through her paces yet retains her unwavering resilience to find her place in the world. Katara can be pretty frustrating in this and I know a lot of the commenters on this fic wanted to smack her up the head halfway through, but I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs and her decisions make sense to me even when I also want to smack her for them, and isn’t that a symptom of good writing? I count my lucky stars that I joined the ATLA fandom after this fic is finished (which was only last year!) because I got to binge it in a few days and I have not been the same person since. Deserves classic status. 

Refraction, by caroe3725 | Rating: E | Word Count: 215,249

Summary: Making choices after the war was supposed to be the easy part. Her future decided and neatly packaged based on what everyone else wanted for her, what she should want, too. But Katara’s destiny had a funny way of being exactly what she wanted to run from. (As if anyone needed another Zutara post-finale slow burn after 15 years.)

My thoughts: YES WE DEFINITELY NEEDED ANOTHER POST-WAR ZK SLOWBURN OF SUCH IMMACULATE QUALITY. Both Katara and Zuko’s internal monologues are excellent in this, but I particularly love Zuko’s. The writer is so good at capturing his resolve, his earnestness, and his awkwardness. This is a very restrained fic — no great histrionics — but also incredibly romantic. The first kiss scene made me want to both sigh and screech. I’m also just a huge sucker for “Katara learns politics” which this fic has in spades, with a bonus of very thoughtful gender dynamics. Anyway, if you liked AJ Lenoire’s The Summit or andromeda13’s such selfish prayers, you’d probably like Refraction. Zuko and Katara are very much dumb teens in the beginning portions of this fic, which I personally like because it makes me nostalgic. Oh, and Katara is low key chaotic good in this, which is super in-character and hilarious.

Stormbenders, by Fandomme | Rating: T | Word Count: 171,000+ 

Summary: S3 AU from FBM. Deep in the Fire Nation jungle, the Gaang meets a group of rogue water ninja who send Zuko and Katara on a mission to retrieve Ozai's secret battle plans.

My thoughts: I’m aware that if you asked the average ZK shipper ten years ago what the ship classics are, the answers are probably Stormbenders, His Majesty Prefers Blue, and the Sparrowkeet series. The other classics are good (classics for a reason!), but Stormbenders remains my favourite. It’s funny. It’s exciting. It’s WELL PACED. The ZK relationship grows so organically, which is a huge feat considering this fic was started before we even got The Southern Raiders. The events are a little more adult than the show, but the tone remains very ATLA. There’s a lovely little animatic of the beginning of the scene on YouTube to show you exactly what I mean about the tone and the humour. I am always weak for a well-structured adventure romance, and Stormbenders stands the test of time because it’s just such a well-written fic. 

The Undying Fire, by Boogum | Rating: T | Word Count: 534,665

Summary: "He has the eyes, Princess Ursa." They were half-forgotten words, a whisper of fears never explained. Zuko had dismissed it all as nothing to worry about—until he somehow healed the Avatar. Fire healers weren't meant to exist, except he did. He'd saved the kid's life. Naturally, he wanted answers. Too bad finding them wasn't so simple...

My thoughts: This fic is mostly Gen, and Zutara shows up in the latter half of the series. Despite being a ZK shipper I like plenty of Gen fics too, and The Undying Fire gives me the best of both worlds. I love the world building, the humour, and the slow ramp up of the Gaang friendships. I absolutely love how the canon divergence is so subtle at first and gradually unfurls into something super different, yet retains much of its ATLA charm. Boogum’s written some other bangers too, and I have to give honorable mention to Zuko’s Tiny Dilemma (where a spirit transforms ponytail Zuko into his six-year-old self, and Uncle into a teapot, and somehow it becomes an emotionally compelling 100k word saga) and Following Blue (season 2 canon divergent Bluetara with a bigger focus on romance). 

Katara Alone & associated fics by cablesscutie | Rating: T | Word Count: 86,890

Summary: The war is over, and with it goes the only life she has ever known. In this era of love and peace, the world is becoming new, and Katara is unsure of her place in it. That's okay though. Katara has rebuilt her life from scratch before, and she will do it again.

My thoughts: I love post-war “Katara sets out to find herself and also finds Zuko” fics. Katara Alone is a fabulous coming-of-age story with some good old fashioned letter flirting during Katara’s solo travels. The sequel, Lady of the Tides, has some very thoughtful depictions of Katara’s place within the post-war Fire Nation, and the accompanying story from Zuko’s POV, The Fire Lord at Home, hits all my buttons. Like…Zuko is Fire Lord Good Boy! He passes legislation! There is political optimism! Swoon. 

Another Word for Alchemy, by FanPanda 13 | Rating: T | Word Count: 108,000+ 

Summary: Five years have passed since the Avatar defeated Fire Lord Ozai, and the members of the Gaang have all gone in their own direction. But when Aang invites them all to a Peace Summit at the North Pole and tells them of his new project, for which he will need their support, the group comes together again for adventure, fun and romance. AU. Zutara. COMPLETE.

My thoughts: Now this is a fic that thoroughly crept up on me. The first 3/4 is good old fashioned fluffy, funny, fourth wall-breaking Gaang shenanigans with plenty of Zutara. But the last quarter? Oh boy does it come right at you and slam you in the solar plexus with the platonic love and found family feels and the complexities of those feelings when you’re a teenager. The impact of Aang’s loss of the Air Nomads is treated very thoughtfully here, way more so than in the show. 

The Slow Path, by TazmainianDevil | Rating: T | Word Count: 125,723 

Summary: Eight years after the fall of Ozai, Aang returns to the friends he left behind.

My thoughts: This is actually a Taang story with a great ZK subplot. But what I love about it is that the whole Gaang (including Suki ALWAYS INCLUDING SUKI) is superbly characterized. The ZK banter is top notch. I could actually hear their voices in my head in some of the scenes. Their relationship is playful but has plenty of emotional heft. And the plot is exciting and well-developed. My favourite thing, though, is how the author treats Toph’s POV: it’s very thoughtfully written, with consideration towards how she perceives the world.

Simple Misunderstanding, by ShamelessLiar | Rating: T | Word Count: 80,965 

Summary: Katara was captured by Zuko, but there was a lapse in communication. Takes place after The Fortuneteller. Fierce Katara, honorable Zuko, and meddlesome Iroh. Also, music night

My thoughts: Generally I don’t love fics where Katara gets captured, especially by Zuko (just a personal preference, not here to judge). But! I love this one, because…well, the circumstances of Katara’s capture by Ponytail Zuko are simply hilarious. Katara is suspicious and stubborn; Zuko has a one-track mind and doesn’t understand why Iroh is treating his prisoner so nicely; oh, and Aang gets into an amazing side quest with some spiritual animals. The only thing about this story is that it ends a little abruptly since the author was considering a sequel, but it still reads as a standalone fic. The author also wrote His Majesty Prefers Blue and Call Me Katto, two ZK classics, but Simple Misunderstanding is far and away my favourite work. 

Clothe Me in Seasons, Dress Me in Snow, by sadladybug | Rating: T | Word Count: 62,026

Summary: It is not the memorial she deserves, nor the one she would want. But it can't be helped. He owns no property in the other nations, and he needed to keep her close. Closer than she was in life, anyway. Zuko's reflections on a life lived and a life that could have been.

Review: sadladybug lives up to the username by creating a sadness so contagious that I have yet to recover from it, and I cope by recommending this fic to other Zutara shippers so that more may suffer like I did. (Stop the cycle? No.) Look — I think there’s something extremely beautiful and poetic about a love that changes in nature and form and expression, but not in intensity and devotion, and that’s what this fic is about. Loved it. Never reading it again. 

One shots: 

There’s a category of canon-compliant Zutara one-shots that are all extremely painful, and I cannot get enough of them: in the next life by we-were-angels, taking place right before Katara’s wedding to Aang; water can heal, water can break by crazyache, about why Katara didn’t attend Yakone’s trial. 

To combat the above, here’s a few funny, fluffy ones that make me cackle: i am older now by ama (who wrote the banger that is The Blackfish and the Dragon), an old!ZK fic that I read to counteract the emotional damage inflicted by psychedelic_aya’s we hold our hearts in silence; all good things start with tea by yodalorian, where Zuko’s hapless Disney sidekick-esque advisors try to get him a wife; And Half at One Another’s Throats by songofhopeandhonor (whose account is deleted), about Zuko’s harebrained proposals to Katara; The Dragon of the West’s Guide to Flirting by bluesunflower44, which is exactly what it says on the tin and the awkward disaster you’d expect. Waiting on a Steady Sun, by nire, is a long version of my favourite tropes: fake marriage + idiots to lovers ft. pining for your spouse. 

I generally don’t love modern AUs, but akaiiko’s talk is cheap (and i’ve got expensive taste), where Katara meets Zuko at a frat party, is a whole damn delight; my old aches become new again by jamesstruttingpotter is a wonderfully indulgent modern AU based on Our Beloved Summer. 

And finally, some season 3 character studies: don’t tell me how to feel by paintingcranes, ft Katara at the Western Air Temple being increasingly incensed at both Zuko trying to be helpful and how other people react to his helpfulness; the other side of mercy by crazyache, where Sokka calls Katara “high-strung and crazy” and that really makes Zuko think; The Silent Garden by romilley (whose WIP The Horizon is also fabulous), where Katara and Zuko avoid their feelings through a reluctant-allies-with-benefits arrangement (ft a way of depicting intimacy and sex that makes me think of Normal People); a deep delight of the blood by eruthros, where Zuko asks Katara to practice bloodbending on him out of pragmatism but also a little bit of guilt (it’s unrated, but that “Kink Without Sex” tag is there for a reason). 

Thank you for asking me for my recs, anon, because I needed an outlet to rave about fanfiction and my irl friends have heard enough. Feel free to ask me questions about specific fics that aren’t on this list: I always love talking to people about fic and I’m always looking for new ones to read!

[catcorsair]

How is a man to foresee what the Fates have in store for him? How can he predict when his world is to change? Of ever abandoning that lonely bachelor's existence to which I had long-ago grown accustomed, I harbored not a single hope—and then, as if by one thoughtless snip of a shear, I discovered myself no longer a bachelor. Sixty years I had spent in lack of the honest company of a woman and suddenly she was everywhere, in every thought, every action, every desire: I could see nothing past Sophia. Thus the warnings went unheeded, only spiders in dark corners, darting out where they cannot be seen, secrets concealing themselves in the shapes of other things; rarely do those Sisters cut their lines in absolutes. It is the slow unraveling of a thread by which the red strings shorten. But heat makes men mad, and summer is a mad season; despite my attempts to ignore them, the ghosts of Erik’s unsavory history crept up with the rising temperatures. Such specters, I have found, are not so easy to put to rest. The attempt to do so comes too late.

Like Pulling Teeth: Part Six

Read on AO3 HERE

18+ / Very Explicit / EC, EOC, E++ / 50K

Pre to post-Leroux canon. General tags: Gothic, Horror, Drama, Romance, Historical Fiction.

*(edited) cover art by Zhao Dalu

Enjoy!

Please Comment / Review :)

[jellogram]

Okay I am ready. An actual longform review about I Saw the TV Glow, spoiler-free because I want people that haven't seen it to know what to expect.

I suggest reading this before you watch.

I think the shortest way to sum it up is that this is not a happy, uplifting, trans narrative, nor is it a Danish Girl-esque tragedy designed to tug at the heartstrings of cis people. This is a cautionary tale, designed for queer people (and particularly genderqueer people) about what can happen if you try to ignore who you are. Because most of Tumblr is queer, I am going to assume most of you guys will be entering with that perspective.

And it's worth noting that the director is nonbinary and has openly discussed this film as a trans narrative.

It's strange. It's uncomfortable. At times it feels like it's moving slow, but you need that time to sit in the emotions. This is not a fun movie to go see with your friends on a night out. This is more like doing powerful hallucinogens in a basement. Either nothing will happen and you won't click with it at all, or you will leave feeling like you just woke up from an incredibly vivid nightmare, wondering why no one around you seems as freaked out as you are.

This is why I recommend either waiting until you can watch it at home alone in the dark, or going to the theatre at a strange time of day when it won't be crowded. My theatre had lots of people laughing around me while I cried. When you are going through a really intense, painful, and emotional reaction to a film, and the people around you are laughing at the movie, it sucks.

So if you don't like the movie and don't get it at all, please be kind and do not laugh or say anything insulting in front of the other guests. If you go through the tags for this movie and many of the reviews, you can see how personally this film affects many people, and you are being very hurtful and dismissive by laughing in front of them while they're upset. This was not only my experience, but one I've seen echoed among many other viewers. So keep it to yourself until you are out of the theatre, please.

Yes, some lines are a little weird. There's things that feel a bit silly and cartoonish, and you just need to ride with it. The absurdity is not an accident on the part of the filmmakers and I think my fellow theatre-goers thought it was.

And as for the technical and artistic aspects, I only have good things to say. Phoebe Bridgers' cameo easily could have been cheesy but it was that song that first made me cry. Pay attention to the use of color. Pay attention to the music. The actors are excellent and it's very cool how many queer people were involved in the project. This is what happens when queer people get to tell our own stories.

tl;dr You will either walk out of that theatre confused and annoyed, or feeling like you just got home from a war. If you are in the first category, please be respectful to those in the second. This is not an easy watch but it's an incredible and highly unique film and it makes me excited about the future of horror and queer filmmaking.

[devildom-moss]

Punishment (Lucifer)

What has Lucifer done wrong, and how will MC try to punish him?

(Lucifer x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (sub!Lucifer / dom!MC) (plot-heavy) (NSFW tags: degradation for Lucifer, "puppy/pet/good boy" used with varying descriptors, puppy/pet play, bondage, tail butt plug, use of aphrodisiacs, jealousy, mild cuckholding, neglect, leg humping)

Word Count: +2,900

It had been a long day. On top of your classes, you had just spent four hours reviewing for an exam with Satan in the library. Sure, you were prepared to do well when the test came around in a few days, and it was worth it to have the weekend free so you could relax, but the effort was draining. The last thing you wanted to deal with was one of the brothers’ stupid antics. Yet, you rushed to Mammon’s room the second you heard his blood-curdling scream just as you stepped foot in the entrance.

“Mammon! I’m coming into your room!” you shouted through the door before entering. His only reply was an agitated wail.

When you got in, Mammon was strung up from his ceiling, struggling and sobbing. He wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Instead, he muttered weakly, “go away. Make it stop, please. Please, stop it.”

The tears were flowing down – or rather, up – Mammon’s face, dropping onto the glass top table below. He looked so miserable and pitiful that you would have expected the entire house to be ablaze in order to justify this punishment. You dragged the table out of the way before throwing every pillow from the couch and all of Mammon’s bedding onto the floor below him.

“Mammon, can you hear me? I’m going to get you down with magic. I can’t reach the rope from here. Relax, don’t thrash around too much, and you’ll be fine,” you yelled up at him. He still ignored you, crying even harder in response. You felt a few tears hit your arm. What could he have done this time?

You released the rope from the ceiling and Mammon came crashing down – almost safely, barring a few bruises. Still, Mammon was sobbing and begging for some invisible threat to leave him alone. If he had appeared less horrified, you might have assumed he was telling you to go away, but Mammon wouldn’t look at you and had never seemed so afraid of you before. Something was horribly wrong. From this distance, you could sense a curse concentrated in that rope. Luckily, when you tried to untie him, no harm came to you.

The second the rope hit the floor and was removed from around Mammon’s body, he seemed to awaken from his previous state. Tears were still coating his face, but he was finally staring directly at you. With a few more seconds to process, Mammon wiped his face and jumped into your arms.

“Ya saved me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! That jerk, Lucifer, put a curse on me and everything I saw was right out of a horror movie. I was up there for three hours, MC. Why didn’t you come to my rescue sooner?”

Lucifer had strung Mammon up and cursed him with horror movie hallucinations for something as small as ditching one class – which was practically insignificant as far as Mammon’s antics are typically concerned. That was the last straw.

Admittedly, Lucifer had been acting like a little bitch all week. He was snippy and moody – an unrelenting and unforgiving presence that added to your stress instead of alleviating it as he often attempted to do. Maybe he would behave of his own accord, and you could have a relaxing weekend for once, but you weren’t chancing it. You headed to his room to squash the problem at its roots.

“Lucifer, are you in there?” you shouted through his door after a few harsh knocks. “Open up. I don’t want to kick your door in.”

Lucifer opened his door, flustered to see you. His brows were scrunched in confusion, “the door was unlocked, you know.”

“I,” you started. Fuck. “Well, I’m not in the habit of opening other people’s doors without permission.”

“My brothers are resistant to retraining,” Lucifer sighed and stepped aside for you to come in. No, fuck off, you do that too, asshole, you thought. However, that wasn’t your point of argument this time, so you decided to drop it.

“So, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you questioned him.

“What?”

“You’ve been so bitchy all week, and this stunt with Mammon – seriously? He ditched one class, and you’re torturing him for it. That was way too far. He’s been pretty normal all week. What kind of bullshit are you taking out on him? He’s not your punching bag.”

“That’s none of your business,” he retorted, failing to look at you. “Stay out of it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me with that?” You stepped forward. Now his eyes were on you – cautious and unblinking like some wary animal. “I live with you all. Every one of you drags me into your shit. How was I supposed to stay out of it? I had to heat up a pack of Mammon’s favorite noodles and hold him until he stopped crying. How is that an appropriate punishment?”

“I’ll repeat myself,” he adjusted his gaze and straightened his posture, “stay out of it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” It was as if his pride had blinded him to the pain he inflicted on others. His lack of explanation only cemented his wrongdoings. He knew he was in the wrong, and instead of apologizing and correcting himself, he dug his heels excruciatingly, irritatingly deeper. You grabbed the collar of his uniform roughly, inching yourself closer instead of pulling him in. Summoning all your annoyance, you spoke: “what the fuck? You come to me with so much, and now that I ask you directly when something is clearly wrong, you keep that mouth shut? For what? So you can cause me more trouble?”

No one else could pull those terrified doe eyes out of Lucifer like you could. When you glanced down at his offensively silent mouth, his lips were slightly parted, and his lower lip trembled ever so subtly that it appeared to be a trick of the eye. He shrank in the face of your anger – crumbled at your justice.

“I didn’t. . .” Lucifer trailed off as he averted his gaze – his voice lost in the short oblivion between your lips and his.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to take it all out on him.” Lucifer admitted, slowly suffocating his pride.

“Why did you?”

“He was texting you when he ditched.”

“And?”

“I wanted to be the only one you paid attention to – not just then, but all week.”

“You were being a little bitch all week because you were jealous?” you scoffed at him. That was a poor excuse.

“And pent up. I keep touching myself to the thought of you – but it’s not the same.” Lucifer took one of the hands grasping at his collar and lowered it to the bulge in his pants. He lowered his gaze to the floor, face flushed pink, and muttered, “see?”

You only left your hand there long enough to feel how hard he had gotten in your presence before pulling back. “That’s a sorry excuse. I’d rather you just be sorry. I think a punishment is in order for you.”

“Me?” Lucifer hesitated, but the glint of hatred in your eyes – the kind of hatred that exists temporarily in moments of extreme annoyance that seems indistinguishable to participating parties – terrified him. He nodded cautiously. “Okay.”

You guided him to the foot of his bed and commanded him with a firm “sit and stay.” Lucifer obeyed while you left briefly to find a rope that Solomon had enchanted and gifted to you (don’t ask). You tied his hands together and instructed him to try and break free. He failed, much to his visible irritation.

“Solomon really is a talented man,” you chuckled. Lucifer let out a low growl in frustration.

You untied his hands, and he rubbed the mild rope burn from his escape attempt. Now that you had confirmed the strength of the enchantment, you could tie him up properly. With no display of lust of affection for him, you stripped Lucifer until he sat bare at the foot of his bed. You tied his hands behind his back prettily and transition that tie into a harness around his torso before securing the end of the rope to his bedframe with about 4 feet of slack for him to utilize. He couldn’t move far, but he could move.

“Isn’t this suitable: you sitting at the foot of the bed like a dog on a leash?” He looked so pretty with the deep red rope digging gently into his skin and his face flushed pink up to his ears, but Lucifer didn’t deserve to hear how gorgeous he was. “I already know you’re a thirsty little bitch, so I brought you something.”

When you left to retrieve the rope, you brought a few other items of interest, including a shallow bowl and a pastel pink moon milk with an aphrodisiac in it. Asmo had been gifted several cases of it and gave one to you with the (inevitably crushed) hope that it would work on humans. It would, however, work to toy with Lucifer a bit more. You placed the bowl in front of Lucifer and poured the milk in. Lucifer stared at you with the disbelief of someone who knows they are in no position to deny a request: frantic and submissive.

“Must I?” Lucifer questioned you.

“I’ll put a record on for you while you enjoy your drink.”

Lucifer crawled back towards the bed on his knees, so when he bent forward, he was face to face with the bowl. It was as if the tint in his cheeks was reflected in the soft pink surface of the milk. He felt humiliated and had no idea how to proceed and best please you. When Lucifer looked up at you for guidance, your back was turned to him as you perused his cursed album collection in search of the right one. He self-consciously tested lapping at the milk like a kitten before attempting to sip from the flat surface and accidentally dipping his nose in it. Neither was an ideal course of action, but he didn’t know what else to do.

You found what you had been looking for: the album with a deep crimson apple on the cover. Every time that album played, Lucifer became incredibly, uncontrollably horny. You both figured that somewhere along the cloudy history of the album, the magic imbued in the record had turned romance into lust and now served as an audible aphrodisiac. As the first few notes played, Lucifer became aware of what you were planning. He hesitated in his messy drinking, anticipating the overstimulation you would subject him to.

“Ass up,” you commanded as you grabbed the last item of interest. He obeyed, arching his back for you. With no other warning, you placed a pre-lubricated tail plug up his ass. He whimpered and looked over his shoulder to give you a half-angry look, as if reprimanding you for not giving him more notice. “Perfect, a little bitch with his tail between his legs. That went in so easily.”

“I told you I was pent up,” Lucifer remarked with the rough, matter-of-fact edge of a brat.

“Did you?” You teased. “Well, that’s that for now. I have to get ready. I have a date with Solomon planned, and after dealing with you, I only have 20 minutes left.”

“What?” Lucifer shot up. His eyes were wide and pleading, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not rescheduling for your sake – especially not after the stunts you’ve pulled this week. I should be back at 9pm. That’s two hours from now. You’ll be fine.” You started towards the door.

Lucifer’s jealousy intensified and he tried to break himself free. He crawled towards you until the rope between him and his bed was pulled taut. The rope dug into his skin harshly, but any pain he felt was overshadowed on his face by a pitiful combination of despair and lust. “Please, don’t go. Not to him.”

“Be a good boy while I’m gone.” You ignored his pleas and reached out to pet his head. He savored the feeling of your touch, knowing that it would come to an immediate end. You heard a sniffle and a low groan – simultaneously pained and pleasured – before you shut the door behind you.

Cruelly (at least as far as Lucifer was concerned), you dragged your date with Solomon out so that by the time you entered the House of Lamentation, it was already half-past 9pm. You knew that Lucifer would have kept a keen eye on the clock regardless of how the aphrodisiacs and his innate lust ravaged his senses and control. When you walked into Lucifer’s room, you were pleased with the results of your punishment.

Lucifer looked up at you, his tear-stained face pressed against the floor next to his bowl. Pitiful moans escaped his mouth, low and strained as if they had been fighting their way back down his throat. He didn’t want you to see him like this: desperately grinding against the small bump he had managed to create in the area rug after well over an hour of repeated thrusting against it. His precum dripped and stained the rug, with some of it even dried into his tail plug, but he had failed to get enough friction for release. Despite the dejected look in his eyes and his ragged panting, he mustered up a cutting tone to tell you, “You’re late.”

What he meant was that he missed you, craving your touch in every second that he awaited your return like some despondent pet abandoned at the peak of its need for attention. If he was honest, he’d thank you for coming back and ask you to bring his punishment to an end, but he wasn’t, so you had no problem teasing him a bit further.

“Solomon held me up. That man can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“What?” He had intended to say it harshly, but the single word trembled out of his mouth – more of a whimper than a question. His hips halted their rhythm, his tail slowing from a mild rocking to still. A low growl escaped Lucifer from some deep, enraged pit in his chest whose emptiness you prodded mercilessly. Despite that rabid noise, fresh tears washed down his face along the dried trails as if they wished to make a pristine mess of him. “Why are you being so cruel? I’d rather you whip me all night than break my heart.”

You clicked your tongue at him before walking over. “Up.”

Lucifer followed your command with the lethargy of a defeated man, but you let the speed of his obedience go. He rose to his knees, still as hard as when you’d walked in on him. You wiped the tears off his cheek with a gentle touch, as if he were something fragile, and at that moment, he was – but not so fragile that he couldn’t take a bit more. He shuddered under that miniscule touch, leaning into it affectionately. You licked the tear from your finger and spoke in a honey-sweet voice that underscored your disapproval of him: “you really are so pathetic, Lucifer.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then, I suppose I can untie you, can’t I, my pretty little puppy?” Lucifer gasped softly at the nickname and nodded, slow and uncertain. “Stay perfectly still.”

Lucifer followed your command as you untied him. Even when he was finally free, Lucifer refused to move until you gave him permission. You leaned down towards his neck and before he could question your intentions, you sunk your teeth into his shoulder, biting down until an erotic groan filled the room. When you pulled back, deep marks were indented into his skin that glistened with saliva. You kissed over the mark sweetly, causing Lucifer’s face to turn pink up to his ears. He reacted so well to the smallest sign of affection.

“Now you’ve been marked as my slutty little puppy,” you cooed. “Would you like to cum, pet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you should do something fitting a puppy. I’ll permit you to hump my leg. Will that be enough?”

“Yes, I think so.” It was pleasant to see him be so uncertain.

You sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned him to your side. Lucifer waited for a reassuring nod before touching you. He thrust himself against your leg slowly, rolling his hips deliberately and moaning like a bitch for you. Every inch of your skin that he could rub himself against was savored, but he still wanted more.

“Could you pet me?” Lucifer asked, uncharacteristically timid, as if you would continue to deny him.

“Greedy boy – marking your scent all over me and still asking for more.” You chastised him, but your hand still wandered down to his head so you could run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp affectionately. The small show of adoration intensified his pleasure. Lucifer picked up his pace slightly and the sound of ragged panting weaved into his delicious moans. You could feel him twitching against your leg, and you moved your hand from his hair to under his chin. “Look at me, my pretty little puppy.”

You caught those dark red eyes, softened by pleasure and love and clouded with lust – dangerously beautiful, just seconds before he came. Admittedly, the comfort of staring at your face combined with your touch had pushed him over the edge more than the few thrusts that preceded his cum leaking down your leg.

Lucifer sighed a quiet “thank you” before sinking into a sitting position and resting his head on your knee. You felt a few tears drip onto you, so you stroked his hair and hushed him.

“There’s my good boy,” you hummed. When the tears stopped, you could take a nice, warm shower together, but for now, you just needed to be there and let Lucifer cry. He just needed you to love him again.

~

Punishment (others)

Belphegor | Barbatos | Asmodeus

A/N: I feel like I went a little feral on this one. I just want to make Lucifer cry and suffer. I'm still sick, and I still have one more fic to do this month, so... really misspelling trial because I'm putting the try in trial. Forgive me if the proofreading isn’t great on this one.

[danmeiblr]

Finally, a Danmei Blog for Lesser-Known Danmei, Some of Which Are Not Even Translated Yet

Hello, hello, I’m Miya, a voracious danmei reader that gobbles novels every night like it’s her daily sustenance. I’ve been reading danmei since late 2018, and like most people in English danmei spaces, I was introduced to it through MXTX’s Mo Dao Zu Shi / Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. Since then, I’ve read many other danmei, like all the other popular ones—Little Mushroom, The Husky and His White Cat Shizun, Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know, etc.

Anyways, I have read almost all of the novels the English fandoms are currently obsessed with. Because of this, I often can’t relate to the excitement you guys still have over them because those novels feel like ages ago to me. I’ve long moved on from them and found other novels I love more. (I also read the bulk of those popular novels during my depression era, and I don’t wanna bring up memories of that)

So yeah, I sometimes feel like an outsider in English danmei spaces because nobody wants to talk about the novels I wanna talk about because nobody even knows about them 😭😭😭

Thus, this blog was born.

Mainly, I will be liveblogging the danmei I’m reading. I used to post them on my main @miyamiwu, but I’ve recently transferred my liveblogs from there to here. Just a fair warning: my liveblogs won’t be spoiler-free. I also don’t use spoiler tags because, well, nobody even knows the novels I’m blogging about so nobody would care if it’s a “spoiler” 😭😭😭

Aside from this, I will also post:

reviews of some of the great novels I come across

recommendation lists (you can also ask me for recs!)

rough English translations of the scenes I’m reacting to (otherwise, I won’t make sense)

general thoughts on danmei genres and tropes

translation ramblings

Basically, anything and everything about danmei.

Some stuff about me:

I run the @lizonkanovels website and used to post MTLations

I am studying Mandarin, but I’m nowhere near fluent in it. (I’ve also been too busy with college that my studies have been put on-hold.)

I loooove talking about the intricacies of translation and even took a class on translation theory before. You will see this reflected in some of my posts.

My favorite genres/tropes: whodunit, unlimited flow, horror, broken mirror, and 甜宠 (lit. sweet love/pampering, fluffy novels basically).

Current favorite danmei: Fourth Perspective by Mo Chen Huan

Also a fan of the 188男团 series by Shui Qian Cheng. My favorites in the series are Years of Intoxication and Blazing Armor

Well, that’s pretty much it. If you’re interested in discovering new danmei to read or just learning more about danmei, feel free to follow me~

You can also check out what novels I’ve posted about on my Danmei Directory:

https://danmeiblr.tumblr.com/directory

(If you’re on the mobile app and can’t access the link above, just copy it and paste it directly on your browser.)

[d-8tober]

Announcing the D8Tober Dimension 20 fan event/prompt challenge!

Select 8 of the 31 prompts to make a fanwork based off of during the month of October! Prompts are each loosely inspired by a horror movie, for the spooky October vibes, but none of the prompts necessarily need to be horror based and many are on the sillier side.

The prompt list will be revealed in two separate posts tomorrow on Friday the 13th of September, because that's appropriate!

FAQ:

Q: Who's running this event?

A: Running is a STRONG word, but the person behind this account is @remidyal. I debated whether to make it a separate account or not but decided to split it out.

Q: Are the prompts associated with specific dates?

A: Nope! I just did 31 to have one for each date but do them in whatever order strikes your fancy. Creation often takes multiple days, and there shouldn't be the added stress to try to have it out on a specific date for this relatively light thing without feeling like you missed your shot. Wanna jam out all 8 on one sunday? You do you, bud!

Q: I want to do less than eight of the prompts. Or, alternatively, I want to do more than eight of the prompts. Or, alternatively, I thought of something that doesn't quite fit one of the prompts.

A: Go for it, I'm not your mom. The whole purpose of an event like this is to inspire some fun fanworks; this is a super casual thing and I'm not going to stop you from doing whatever suits you.

Q: Is there an event discord or anything?

A: No, but I'll be using the tag D8tober for my own postings, and as usual I'll be around on the fic discord server or a lot of the other community servers if you have questions.

Q: Do I need to watch a single one of the movies on the list in order to participate?

A: Absolutely not! The prompts are just, themselves, inspired by a selection of horror movies. The long-form version of the prompt list will include some information about and a brief review from me of each movie, but spoiler alert there are a couple on there I don't recommend to anyone to watch. Not because they're horrific or problematic or whatever - I'm not including anything very far off the beaten path, really - but because they're bad. (Don't watch the original Friday the 13th, for example. It's awful and you can do better with your limited time on this planet.)

Q: If you had to recommend a single movie on this list, which would it be?

A: If you've somehow never seen a single one of the movies on the lists, then I'm going to have to recommend one of the true classics not just of horror but of movies generally and tell you to watch Alien. Sometimes things are classics for a reason. If you've seen some of the really well-known stuff but not gone all that deep, I think I'd push you towards Ready or Not, which is a lot of fun and not that many people saw.

Q: Are these questions really frequently asked, or did you just try to cover things you thought people might ask with something you wrote in advance?

A: This press conference is over.

There will be two versions of the prompt list posted, one with just the prompts and one with some fun info and opinions on each of the movies on the list.

[lastoneout]

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

I don't have a proper BYF, but as a heads up I'm heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and it's something I'm working on, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

29

[queermania]

How do tags work? I'm newish to Tumblr and I don't really get the tags. Do I need to tag everything?

hello and welcome! tags serve four major purposes:

to let other people find your content: this is only applicable if you are the creator of the post, not if you reblog it. for example: if you make a post about dean you might want to add the tags "dean winchester" and "supernatural" or even "spn" so that other people who are interested in content about dean can see the post when they're searching for content on tumblr (if you want to find content and you're using desktop, you can search tumblr.com/tagged/supernatural [or whatever it is you're looking for] and you'll be able to see original posts that people tagged as "supernatural." if you're on mobile, frog speed, my friend.) also, friendly reminder not to over-tag things. if you tag a post that is just about dean with "sam winchester" "castiel" "john winchester" etc people are more likely to block you. spam tagging is really annoying.

organization on your own blog: adding tags to your posts lets you find them on your own blog later (again, this is really only useful on desktop, not mobile) and this goes for original posts and reblogged posts. for example: you may have noticed that i tag all of my posts about dean with "dw." that's the organizational tag i use for my own blog. i also have tags that probably don't mean anything to anyone else but that help me to organize certain ~genres of posts on my blog (like "hashtag family"). if you want to search your own blog or someone else's for all of the posts you/they have in a specific tag you can do that on desktop by going to blog.tumblr.com/tagged/tag. so for example if you wanted to search my blog for the dean content you would go to queermania.tumblr.com/tagged/dw

giving other people the ability to block/filter content: this is relevant for both original posts and reblogged posts. for example: someone might have followed you for doctor who content but they are not interested in seeing supernatural content. you tagging your supernatural posts with a "supernatural" tag lets them filter or blacklist it so they don't have to see it. this is also relevant for certain types of content like nsfw, body horror, etc. you may see tags like "tw body horror" or "body horror tw" or "body horror cw" or even "body horror for ts" (that one's an old relic from a time long ago when we had to use an extension called tumblr savior to filter content). content/trigger warnings are subjective. not everybody uses them. not everybody is willing to use them. it's not uncommon to ask people (politely!) to tag for something that might be upsetting to you, with the caveat that they might say no and then it's up to you to decide if you want to continue following them or not. (for example if you asked me to tag for alcohol, i would politely decline, simply because i do not think i would realistically remember to do it and i don't want to promise something i can't deliver and risk harming you.)

commentary that doesn't need to be a part of the post: you may have noticed that a lot of us put our thoughts on any given post in the tags. this is a way to leave commentary without muddying up the post. not all thoughts need to be on the post permanently. in fact, most don't haha. sometimes if you leave commentary in the tags, someone will copy and paste or screenshot them into the body of the post because they think your thoughts deserved permanent status and that other people should see them too. we like to call this getting peer reviewed because we are nothing if not a website full of nerds.

so those are the ways we use tags on this website. you can choose not to use tags at all, use them religiously, or use them only when you want. it's really up to you. you create your own experience. however, if you do opt out of tagging anything at all, people might be less likely to interact with you because it makes it harder for them to curate their own experience. but again, it's really up to you!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: slept like crap last night but we got this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Sy is nice enough but you're still put off by your meeting. He carries a bag gallantly to a large black truck and pulls open the back door to place it on the seat. He turns to you to take the next. You hug it, wondering if you should settle for half your load and run for the hills.

Still, you can't help but feel beholden to him. The pin on his hat and the way he looks at you. He just seems a bit oblivious to how unsettling his approach Is.

He takes the bag and you just stare. You feel hollow and your ears are on fire. You just keep going along with this and that voice in your head is screaming at you to stop.

“Here,” he shuts the back door and pulls the passenger's open.

You look at him then into the truck. Are you crazy!? You can't just go with this man in his vehicle…

You grab onto the interior of the door and climb up into the truck. He touches your lower back gently as if to help you. You drop into the seat and thank him, trying not to let your fear bubble over.

He shuts the door and your stomach plummets. Are you being kidnapped? Are you letting yourself be abducted? Oh, you're gonna end up on a podcast.

He gets in the driver's side as you sink into the horror movie unfolding in your head. You look over at him as he unfolds a pair of dark sunglasses and puts them on to block out the sun's glare. He's so calm it's frightening. He knows exactly what's coming and you can't even begin to imagine the sheer terror awaiting you.

Maybe a nice basement cell. Worse, a field and a hole six feet deep. Your heart feels like it's stopped. Your vision is hazy and your ears are ringing.

The truck rolls backwards and lurches you back to reality. You blink and look over the hood. Sy pulls out of the spot smoothly and cranks the wheel to straighten out.

“Y'okay, sweetie?” He asks as he comes to the exit.

“Mmm, yeah,” you eke out as you grip the inside of the door. “I'm all good I just… I never expected to meet a follower.”

“Yeah, I uh… you know, I only ever dreamed it. Being over there, the days… well you don't know if you'll see the next, or even the night,” he lets out a deep breath, “I didn't put real thought into it til I got back and… it's so fu– so, er, lonely, you know? You're the only thing that was the same.”

“Oh,” your cheeks twitch as you attempt a smile, “that's very sweet. I… you know, I kinda just do the streams to get my thoughts out, it's not really… I don't know.”

“I like it. It's peaceful,” he drives down the street as the passing buildings spike your concern. “Don't get much of that.”

“Sure, I… I can imagine.”

“Hey, if it means keeping sweet things like you safe, I'll do it,” he chuckles. 

Before you can respond, he slams on the breaks and his tires skid. A car in front of him flashes their tail light. He snarls and you watch the fury furrow above his brows.

“You fu–” his booming voice catches and he bites down on his words, growling instead. “Ugh,” he exhales, “that guy… coulda got hurt…”

“Yeah,” you clasp your hands together.

"Or he coulda hurt us!" He throws a hand up.

“That was close," you mewl, "but we're okay, right?”

He inhales and looks at you. He closes his eyes and nods, “you're right, sweetie.”

You bite down, fighting not to show your fear. There's something in him that threatens to boil over. You can see it in the vein popping out along his forehead.

“So, I know a place, they got good bacon, probably some good french toast,” he leans on the pedal again, “get some whip cream on top?”

“Well, I appreciate it but I really should get home,” you say gently, “but maybe another time–”

“It's my treat, sweetie,” he insists, “it's been a long time since I got to sit down to eat with a pretty girl.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don't want to push him. You know the tenuous tightrope walk. Just do what he wants, keep him happy.

“I didn't say… you look real nice today. That's my favourite of yours,” he keeps one hand on the wheel and points towards you, “the overalls.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and twist your fingers, letting out a rocky chuckle.

“So cute when you do that,” he rumbles and rests his hand on the corner of your seat, “that lil laugh.”

“Um, yeah, sorry, I… it's  a habit.”

“Nah, I like it,” he assures you and rescinds his hand to flip his signal on.

He turns into another plaza and you see the bright painted sign above a diner. A white cup on a teal banner. You've never been there but you pass it on the bus. He pulls up right at the front of the lot before the windows. You can see people inside as waitress carry trays between tables.

“I don't know about you but I'm starving,” he drawls and undoes his seat belt.

You sit in the seat, paralysed and helpless. He comes around your side and you click the button on your own belt. You turn and he offers his hand to help you get down. When you ignore it, he grabs your arm to ease your landing.

He swings the door shut and you shuffle past him. You have no choice but to keep going. Get through this and you'll go home and block him. Maybe even delete your whole account.

He reaches around you as you come up to the door and pulls it open. Be sweeps you inside with his arm and follows you through. A waitress in a black blouse greets you and you look to Sy over your shoulder.

“Table, thank you,” he says.

She leads you to a table for two and you sit, arms crossed as you rock nervously. He orders coffee as he slides off his sunglasses and the waitress turns to you. You push yourself straight. 

“Um, chocolate milk, please,” you request.

“Right away, hon,” she leaves you with the menus as you unfold your arms and pick at your thumbnail.

“So cute, chocolate milk,” he comments as he takes the laminated menu from the table, “oh, look,” he flicks it, “French toast. Can get berries with it.”

You look down and lean forward to see past the sheen of the plastic sheath. You narrow in on the French toast but your stomach rolls. You're too nervous to be hungry.

“Yeah, looks good,” you say, “um, I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he smiles as he browses the menu.

You get up, wobbling slightly before you get your balance. You search for the sign to the restrooms and head down the short hall behind the kitchen. You dip inside and lock yourself in a stall.

You really can't afford to abandon your groceries. Worse, you don't dare anger him. He's nice but you don't know how nice he'd be if you ran out on him. Just get yourself together, it's just breakfast. You'll get through it then try to forget your stupidity.

You should've known better but you didn't have enough followers to worry  it never even occurred to you but it should be. It's your own fault.

You take a few minutes to mellow out. You don't quite get there but the longer you stay, the longer he has to get suspicious. No, you're not going to run. You don't think you'll get very far.

You come back out and return to the table. As you sit, he sips his coffee and his eyes crinkle at you. Your chocolate milk is waiting beside a wrapped straw. As you tear through the paper, you sense him watching you.

He clinks his cup down, "ordered your french toast. Extra sugar... since you're so sweet."

You issue a brittle chuckle. You stare at him. He's taken his cap off, revealing a shaved head above his thick beard. His shoulders are broad, all of him is. He's so thick and his arms are bulging with muscle beneath his tee shirt. His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, a contrast to the rest of his rough exterior.

"You don't gotta be shy," his voice gristle in his throat as he leans forward, elbows on the table. "What do ya wanna know?"

"Pardon?" You croak.

"Well, I know everything about you," he grins, "you barely know me."

You gulp, wavering like you've been knocked upside the head. You part your lips and peer around. His self-awareness if almost there but not quite.

"I..." you don't know what to say or ask or do. He toys with the handle of his coffee cup. "What do you take.... in your, uh, coffee?"

He chuckles, "really? Why's that? You planning to bring me coffee in the mornings?"

You meet his eyes again and he winks. You giggle and move your lips like a gasping fish.

"Teasing, ya, sweetie, I don't wanna rush you," he says, "I take it black, but I don't mind some cream on Sundays."

You nod, embarrassed, and poke your straw into your cup, leaning forward to slurp up the chocolate milk. His eyes linger on your lips as you do. You pull back and take a napkin to wipe your mouth.

"Erm... well, what... how did you... find my page?"

He sits back, gripping the edges of the table as he sighs, "I was just scrolling around but I'm starting to think it's something bigger than us, you know? I was goin' through it. I needed something and there you were, showin' off those new boots you got with the flower."

Flowers? You got those boots over a year ago. You remember that stream. He's been watching you that long.

"Oh, ha, right," you murmur.

"There aren't many people out there like you left, you know? I've seen the worst in people but in you, I saw the best," he explains, "the way you just take everything in. Looking at the flowers and the birds and... you just know how to appreciate life."

You smile and nod. What else can you do as the world crashes down? He was there yesterday. That blurry figure behind you in the photo, the shadow creeping just beyond your sight. You don't doubt it was him.

“I try, er…”

You sit back as the waitress approaches. She puts a plate before you, French toast with a side of fruit salad, sugar and whip on top of the bread. She lays down Sy's plate, mounded in eggs, home fries, sausage, and two types of bacon, with rye toast. You would guess that is just barely enough to fill him up.

“Dig in,” he says as he grabs his cutlery.

You sit forward and take your fork and knife. You cut into the eggy bread and stab the small triangle of the corner. As you raise your fork, Sy growls, “get some cream too, sweetie.”

You flinch but do as he says. You swipe the bread through the dolloped cream and shove it through your lips. You stare at your plate as you chew. You wish he wouldn't watch you. You don't like eating in front of others.

“Is it good?” He asks.

“Very,” you swallow and cover your mouth.

“Don't worry, I think it's cute you got cream on your lips,” he plucks up a piece of bacon with his fingers, “didn't get good fixings like this in the sh– over there,” he bites into the strip and chews.

“Yeah, I wouldn't think…” you twirl your fork nervously, “do you have to go back?”

“Mmm, not anytime soon. They're tryna get me on a desk,” he shrugs, “might be a good change but I don't know if I'm suited to it…” he tosses back the rest of the bacon, chewing thoughtfully, “but I'm about that age. Gotta settle down, so I figure, makes sense.”

“Right, right, yeah, fair,” you garble mindlessly.

“Besides, when you got someone at home, you don't wanna run back into the bull– into war,” he smirks.

You take another bite, even as your stomach churns. You don't like how he's talking, as if you're together. As if he knows you. It's strange.

He scoops up a forkful of home fries and shovels them back. You can't fault his table manners, he was probably eating out of cans for the last few years. Not that you would say anything. You're much too scared for that.

You fall into a trance, focusing on the simple task of cutting into the toast, chewing but not tasting as your heart tamps behind your ears. You sense a shift and look up, your cheeks full of food as you make eye contact with Sy’s phone camera. You swallow painfully and nearly choke.

“What are you doing?” You squeak.

“For your Instagram,” he smiles, “I’ll send you the pics…” he frames his phone with both hands as he admires the screen, “you look so cute.”

You shudder and grip the knife and fork tight. You look back to the stack. You think you’ll ask for it to go. If you eat any more, you’re definitely going to be sick.

[neousfics]

Bungo Stray Dogs Fic Recs (The Ties That Bind Edition)

If you liked my fic The Ties That Bind here's a bunch of other fics I think you'd love :)

dolls don't have emotions (so why am I so scared?) by DeviBlue

Words: 15,313

Rating: E

Status: Complete

Summary:

“You found me,” Dazai croaked.

She walked towards him and rested a deceivingly gentle hand on his cheek. He tried his best not to lean into it. Soft touches were rare, especially from her, and she used them to wrap him around her finger. Giving him the love he craved whenever he strayed too far. It was disgusting and humiliating that she still had that effect on him.

“Shuuji-kun, you know you can never hide from us,” she said, just like all those years ago.

OR

Dazai's past comes back to destroy the life he's built for himself in the light.

Review: This is one of my absolute favorite BSD fics. The angst and horror in this concept are such a gut punch and I adore it. If you like the more raw, intense parts of The Ties That Bind, you'll love this fic

People-Pleasing and the Affects of Caring by Allegory_For_Hatred

Words: 4,565

Rating: Unrated but I would say M for violence

Status: Complete

Summary:

Dazai may have let himself be tortured to get information. It's not that big of a deal. You guys are just overreacting.

OR: the agency has a revelation about Dazai's... let's say "work ethic." Is it too late to fix what the Mafia has drilled into his head?

Review: A really solid exploration of the ADA reacting to how absolutely dreadful Dazai's mafia work-habits. I enjoyed the idea and characterization quite a bit

5 Times this, 1 Time that (but After that, Always) by gev_ao3

Words: 15,994

Rating: M

Status: Complete

Summary:

Just a quick 5+1:

Five times Chuuya thought there might be something… off about Mori and Dazai’s relationship, and one time he decided to do something about it. Can be read as a ship, but it doesn't have to be. The world is your oyster. (just, please, don't ship Dazai and Mori)

Review: If you like the Soukoku aspects of my fic/you're looking forward to the Chuuya confrontation, you'll enjoy this fic. It's well written and a good mix between indulgent and moderate

the bones are melting (the skeleton is ash) by FlowerCitti

Words: 2,879

Rating: T

Status: Complete

Summary:

When Dazai first joins the Agency, there is something inside of him that is waiting to mess up. Something inside of him that is almost craving it, if only to get it over with.

He gets his wish after only three months of working with the Agency.

Or, Fukuzawa Yukichi is not Mori Ougai.

Review: Honestly, I love this entire series. I think it captures the dread that is Mori Ougai very well, and the ADA provides a great contrast

Ruiner by gev_ao3

Words: 124,622

Rating: E

Status: Incomplete (Ch 13/14)

Summary:

from S2E9:

“Do you still wear the coat that I gave you?”

“I burned it.”

They’re the wrong words to say.

Mori’s abuse runs deep—deeper than anyone, including Dazai, had realized. And he’s doing it all over again.

[WARNING. *PLEASE* MIND THE TAGS.]

Review: Brutal psychological warfare, 10/10

Nivea's Mirror by Raiimil

Words: 42,077

Rating: E

Status: Complete

Summary:

Every night, a purple letter appears in his doorstep. Every night, the letter have different contents inside. Every night, Dazai breaks a little more. And this time, it might break him thoroughly.

Previously called: RAVAGE (Before I Break)

PLEASE, read the tags, PLEASE

Review: Also brutal psychological warfare, utilizes new ideas / characters in a way that doesn't feel self-indulgent or distracting from the plot. This one is very unsettling /pos

There's a few for now :) I will likely add more later