#god i love gothic romances

[chiropterancreed]

Ancient Shadows

Ancient Shadows - A Ghost Au "Son cœur est un luth suspendu; Sitôt qu’on le touche il résonne.

His heart is a hanging lute; Whenever one touches it, it resounds."

De Béranger.

In which Louis de Pointe du Lac is a new divorcee who takes his daughter across the Atlantic to France for a change of scenery. Louis is an author and an heir to a vast fortune, so he decides to rent a chateau in a remote village of the Auvergne. When strange things start happening around the manor, will he abandon their new life? Or will Louis tough it out to finish his book in time for the deadline?

The divorce had been finalized. Three years of fraught arguments, of feeling like he was sneaking around Lily’s back. Three years of bitter tension, of trying to maintain normalcy for Claudia. His princess, his everything, his daughter. Claudia was almost four years old. She didn’t know what having a regular family was like. She was stuck with a gay divorcee dad, and a mom who was so angry at him she didn’t want to have anything to do with her daughter. That part hurt the worst. That Lily didn’t want custody of Claudia, she didn’t even want to share her. It made him feel like Lily didn’t love her. She carried Claudia into the world, and because Louis… because he couldn't control his urges, she didn’t even want to be a mother. How was he going to explain that to Claudia, when she was old enough? How was he going to explain it to himself? By the end of their short marriage, he didn’t even care that he hadn’t made Lily sign a prenup. She took half of his inheritance and the house, and he didn’t care at all. She could have it. He never liked the old plantation house, never liked the memories it had carried for him. She could have it and the land and turn the old slave quarters into kitschy bed and breakfasts, for all he cared. He loved her once. Thought he did, at least. Looking back on it, on their lack of a sex life and how Louis always had trouble being in the moment with her, being attracted to her… The dalliances he’d had behind her back. She deserved so much better than what he could give. If Lily needed to get rid of every part of him, even Claudia, to start over, he supposed he could forgive her that. Maybe after the years lessened the sting she’d want something to do with Claudia again. For now, he’d taken his daughter and left the country. Louis de Pointe du Lac sold off any remaining property of his, gave some of the money to his mother, sister and brother, and left with Claudia for France. He had more than enough left to set them up in a quaint countryside manor. His publisher was bothering him for another book, and he knew the change of scenery would help more than just lessening the sting of failure.

************** (You can read the rest of the story here - at my archive account! I hope you enjoy!)

[goryhorroor]

my favorite genre of women is running from creepy castles/houses

[j0celynh0rr0r]

The only thing we’re good at.

[sine-fine-inanis]

Banger of a pick-up line from Ichabod Crane: "there must be some witch in you, for you have bewitched me"

[eldergrim]

"...Good-night, my-" He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.

- Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre

I finally reached this point last night just before I went to sleep and I was kicking my feet and squealing at the fact that he called her his and was probably about to say 'my love' or 'my darling'

[k1ll3r-k4rg0]

i should draw more sexy viniquinn or just bgs in general sorta' art

still really love that cody pic mmmnnnn

also my wip is at 8236 k words woowoeoeeee

[sunsofdawn]

✦ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀: eris, my rook for dragon age the veilguard. “someone will die. of fun, of course! and by fun, i mean murder.”

[robinthetiredartist]

“I do not fancy the snow…”

Adam’s hoarse voice rumbled from his throat, a cloud of misty breath following after each careful word. The snowflakes waltzing in the cold wind fluttered down bit by bit joining the soft, white blanket coating the earth.

“Does it remind you too much of your Father’s death?”

“In a way. However, the cold is a reminder of how cruel the world is under its surface. One moment warm and inviting, the next calloused and unforgiving.”

Rose let out a soft hum to herself at his proclamation. It was true, the world had a twisted way of working. How cruel the hands of fate to some more then others. How spiteful and evil some could be only to cast themselves higher in the name of righteous love. It was not love. Not to her, nor to him.

Her cracked, cold lips graced a smile as her hazy emerald eyes met his sunken flaccid Yellow irises. A look she’d shared many times in the seasons they’d spent at one another’s sides. Her bandaged hands pulled her coat closer as the snowflakes stuck in her hair.

“Do you know how I look at it, Adam?”

Peaking the creature’s curiosity, he patiently waited for her answer.

“The way I see it, winters are but a small price to pay so that the earth’s true beauty may shine. The plants die in the cold, wither to nothing and fade, and yet bloom anew come spring. Nature takes its time in all things, as it does in creation…and destruction.”

Adam’s lips pursed together, absentmindedly rubbing his calloused hand over the stitching scars littering his arms. Feeling the soft putter of snowflakes on his pale, sickly green skin only to melt in mere seconds. How quickly was he to be caught once more by the same eyes he’d looked into a thousand times over. A smile gracing the Redhead’s weak, sunken face.

“As well as I give thanks to every Winter I live to see. I treat every snowfall as if it will be my last. And every spring that comes, I am privileged to know I survive another beautiful, yet perilous year. A year spent at your side no less, my dear.”

Adam’s cheeks felt warm in contrast to the piercing cold of the air, and yet he didn’t seem to mind nor notice. For he had grown used to every time his stitched heart would skip a beat at the mere sight of her. The mere sound. The mere smell. The mere touch.

The mere thought of, in his eyes, his modern Persephone.

“…perhaps I judge the winter too harshly, after all. If it can be seen as much of a blessing by an angel, who am I to question it’s worth?”

[branwinged]

the magnus archives is a romcom—no what the hell it's not. it is, however, a gothic horror romance between jon and elias. because you see, the thing about jonelias is that their canonical dynamic is built around an absurd number of gothic genre tropes. jon sims obviously fits the mold of the tortured gothic protagonist quite nicely who's facing both external (the other avatars targeting him) and internal horrors (his progress as the Archivist weighing on his conscience). but he's also trapped in the gothic manor which is the magnus institute. there are secrets (the place being a temple to the eye), locked doors, forbidden chambers, and bodies in the attic which serve as evidence of past misdeeds (the panopticon; gertrude and jonah's bodies in the tunnels), the institute/archives is ultimately destroyed by fire - purging the gothic manor i.e. the symbolic destruction of the previous order with fire is a common motif in the genre. and jon's work in the archives is haunted by the figurative ghost of gertrude who remains a curious mystery he must unravel and will serve as a constant reminder to jon of his own inadequacies (just like du maurier's rebecca fr)

elias is then —

1) his personal bluebeard figure who murdered his predecessor, a comparison which only gets stronger with the jonah magnus reveal since he's been cycling through archivists for two hundred years, all having met gruesome ends in service to him and jon being his final and most notable choice. are you seeing the maxim de winter rochester imagery. are you.

2) his gothic double. doubles as a literary trope are your hidden self made manifest, the horror lies in the double (elias) revealing the gothic protagonist's (jon) hidden, true self to them. elias as an avatar of the eye is entirely unrepentant for his nature, he revels in it. which is a mirror to jon's own self-flagellation because despite how much he feels torn about his own metaphorical vampirism, he likes it. he admits as much to gerry as early as s3 when asked about his feelings on his ability to compel truths. and why wouldn't he! after being kept in the dark so long, why wouldn't he like it? and jon and jonah had in common their natural curiosity even before they found the beholding. elias is a mirror and jon looks in it and sees someone who is him, but not quite. someone who is what jon would be if he could simply let go, but jon can't. like most gothic protagonists he will kill his double because it is a reminder of a self-truth he can never escape.

and watcher's call. like what even is that. what do you mean that's a thing. what. literally wuthering heights. "why did you heed the call?" // "because this is the place i know i should be" <- normal dialogue to write for two guys definitely not starring in a gothic romance.

^ same genre of images. so the spider, the mother of puppets, the web which is the symbolic representation of narrative thread in the magnus archives universe WEAVED them together? red string fated, that's what they are? so they're soulmates. that's what you're saying. they're literally soulmates. soulmates as existential horror? just enough of an illusion of narrative agency for jonah/elias to claim, "the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose" but paradoxically joined by fate, which isn't a good thing! because no god-like powers of hope, or love, or indigestion, or whatever, only fear. because even though both help the other achieve narrative self-actualisation (elias making jon the archive and jon making elias the king of a ruined world), their union also irrevocably destroys their lives as they hurt each other in deeply personal ways which signify their greatest fears. elias manipulating jon, whose biggest fear is mr spider, i.e. loss of control and jon repaying by being the very thing that kills jonah, who has spent multiple lifetimes trying to escape the end. and that's romance <3

[yeyinde]

Seen your layla frost mention - any good dark romance books you would recommend? 👀

oh, absolutely!!! though, fair warning - my ideal dr is a horror/thriller moonlighting as a romance so! def read the warnings.

Little Dove by Layla Frost. Maximo, honestly, is my ideal mmc. cold, collected, cunning, unflappable, with a cruel and sadistic side (but never directed toward the the fmc), and wholly devoted to Juliet on a level that would probably land him in jail irl

Then, Earth Swallowed Ocean (book 1) by Shiloh Sloane

"Southern Gothic Werewolves Fight the Devil" that's it. this is the book for me. Shiloh Sloane is my favourite author. genuinely, truly. i love her writing, i love her characters. i love her for her tiktok bio alone: I write love stories whose trailers would have Ethel Cain music in ‘em. obsessed with her. i stalk her daily on insta and tiktok. but the book: it's more horror erotica than DR, but to be totally honest, this is so far up my alley, it was practically written for me. werewolves, the devil, smut, an INSANE mmc (obsessed, mean, possessive), a strong fmc, and it's set in post WW2 Appalachia. instant fave. when i die, bury me with this book.

Cracked Blue Sky (book 2) by Shiloh Sloane

features a native fmc and i know Shiloh Sloane is white, but how she shapes Howie Black Elk was pretty realistic. i loved how much she reminded me of a few cousins, aunties. love this book!!

Snuff by Bonny Capps

dark horror erotica that you absolutely should heed the warnings to. i loved it. 5*. but it does end up on several dnf lists for being brutal and disgusting. fmc goes to Russia to discover her roots, is taken by the Bratva to feature in their "passion projects" (snuff films!), but the mmc decides he wants her all to himself. if you're queasy about totally irredeemable mmcs (sadistic, vile, possessive, obsessed, cruel), then this probably is not for you, but lucky for me, i'm into that. def on my "i couldn't look my therapist in the eye for a while" collection, though.

Lemonade by Nina Pennacchi. mmc is irredeemable (cruel, vile, obsessed). historical romance (Victorian). also on the collection. Little Mouse by Emily Rose. mafia. age gap. A Stone's Throw by Stevie Sparks. age gap (dad's best friend. Scottish hero. auction. weird rich people doing weird rich people shit. God Of Vengeance by Michelle Heard. age gap. mafia. found family. i re-read the bound series this week and my favourites are Bound by Vengeance (Growl and Cora), Bound by Duty (Dante and Valentina), and Twisted Pride (Remo and Serafina). anything by Lilith Vincent. Brutal Husband is dropping in October and i cannot wait. The Devil's Vice by Mindy Paige. trauma bonding. motorcycle gang. age gap. Little Stranger by Leigh Rivers. revenge (fmc sends mmc to prison and he gets out and comes for her). insane mmc. Spectre by Shiloh Walker. kidnapping. violence. neuro-atypical fmc. Slashed by Thalia Sanchez. fmc wants to become a Final Girl. Slasher!mmc gives her just that.

also, not a romance but if you're into dark books with compelling characters, Break Her by BG Harlen was sooo good!!!! the premise is that a professional rapist is sent to break the fmc and it's such a good psychological thriller. def not for everyone though. A Beautiful Evil by Eris Belmont has no HEA but a very brutal and malicious mml. God's Eye by Ansa Reads is brutal. loved it, dgmw. but it's def not for the faint of heart.

[kentopedia]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 5.3k words

PART V ♰ MASTERLIST

Human blood, when it came straight from the source, a punctured vein made up of a scarlet river, held a divine power. There was a warmth that you could only receive from drinking it, not from the animals you captured in the woods, or those that you bled dry into a goblet. 

Only then, would your icy skin be transformed into something akin to heated marble, so smooth, made up of something that had outlasted any other creature roaming the earth. 

That sort of euphoria was a feeling that fifty years had served you well in forgetting. You’d learned not to miss it. 

Until you got it back. The taste of human blood, once it had stained your lips after decades, had become the only thing on your mind. 

For two days, the blood of the woman, whom Dazai had lured to his hotel room for you, kept your hunger down. Your body had grown warm once more, skin as normal as any mortal’s. It made you feel as if you had regained life itself, the ecstasy seeping back into you like the sunbeams you’d never reach again. 

You’d pranced around your home joyfully, dancing through the halls the night before. Although it was dangerous, it was freeing, to lose yourself to the bloodlust like that. Just a taste of what your life had been, was enough to twist your mind, have you reminiscing on the vampire you’d once been. 

“You seem different,” Atsushi had said, the previous day. There had been such pleasure in his irises and the lines creasing his face, at seeing you so cheerful. Those signs of happiness in him were ones that you’d vowed never to take away, for doing so would deem you the vilest creature of them all. “Has something happened that I’m not aware of?” 

You’d laughed, let him rest in the crook of your elbow as you leaned him over your forearm, dipping him gracefully with your otherworldly strength. “I’m just glad you’re home, Atsushi,” you’d said, before twirling him around, guiding him in a dance around the room. 

It was all you could say, really. You couldn’t admit that your true gaiety came from the blood of a young woman, and your health had been restored by drinking the sweet nectar from her heart. 

Something you should’ve been doing all along. 

Then, when those two days passed, and the desperation that came with hunger returned, your mood soured. Atsushi pretended he hadn’t noticed, skirting around you with sideways glances and softened smiles. Encouragement — even if he wasn’t sure what had turned your radiance into a shade of blue. 

Life settled back into a sense of normalcy. For your fiancee, at least, who had never had a clue that anything was amiss. You, on the other hand, grappled with the immense guilt, the truth of what you’d done slamming against you, every moment your thoughts strayed. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

The only name on your mind. Ever. Dreadfully lurking at the lines of your subconscious, even as you smiled at the one who loved you purely. Dazai’s charming grin snuck behind your eyelids as you kissed the man you were to be wed to, his name souring your tongue when you tasted Atsushi’s own. 

His voice, a melody bestowed upon you by nothing else but the devil, for a merciful god could never have created something so tempting, so horribly unholy. Those dark eyes, darker still when you punctured his throat, letting the crimson liquid flow into your mouth, staining your lips. 

And his blood… 

You growled, digging your nails into the piano that you’d failed to play at all. A screeching sound erupted as your fingers slid down the cover, deep scratches marring the wood. 

This was all his fault. If he’d never come back, then things could’ve carried on as they always had. You wouldn’t crave the taste of human blood once again, of Dazai’s blood, of his mouth, of him. 

“Get out,” you shouted, throwing the piano bench away from the instrument, the wood splintering under your strength. “Get out.” The antique vase shattered against the wall, the priceless item suddenly a million, tiny pieces. “Get out of my head.” 

Frustrated crept its way up your chest, a less than welcome old friend. 

Yet, that blend of rage and anguish was not an antidote to the way that Dazai Osamu had poisoned your mind, and you fell to your knees, sobbing hot streaks of blood into your hands. 

He’d made a cheater out of you, once again. A cheater, a killer, and a monster. And even after all that, you yearned for him. Your chest ached for the trace of his fingertips along your jawline, for those eyes to soften, only upon you. For the smile that he’d always given you, even in your darkest moments, as you laid upon him, coated in the gore of another.

Dazai was a cruel man, but he’d loved you through it all. 

And if what he said was true, he’d never meant to leave you. 

You swallowed, willing your tears away as you stared at the ceiling, dragging those regrettable emotions deep, burying them under the years of turmoil he’d put you through. All the times he’d snuck away, never telling you where he’d gone, promising he’d change and still playing the same games. 

Even then, the taste of his blood was too fresh on your mind, the tenderness of his hands still burned into your skin. 

Dazai, for all his cruelty, was right. Atsushi would never understand you the way he did. He’d never love you like that either. 

It had been a blessing, at first, that Atsushi was so vastly different from your immortal companion. Now, it had become the thorn lodged deep in your side, puncturing you through the middle. 

When the day came that you turned Atsushi, with a ring upon your finger and the promise of an immortal life, would you still long for Dazai? 

It seemed unfair to judge your vampire lover now, for all his misgivings, all the evil deeds he had committed, all the adultery, all the silence. The murder. You were the same, you and Dazai. Burned straight from the same pit, crafted by the hands of a demon, placed upon this earth for no reason but evil. 

How foolish you had been, to ever think you could be anything good. 

Three days later, when the rats were not enough, and the threat of biting Atsushi became too much to resist, you sought Dazai out. 

The realization of your buried feelings, towards him and yourself, would remain just that—hidden. You’d told Dazai you needed time, and you still did. Time to decide if you’d rather live with Atsushi, or step out into the sunlight, letting your body fall into flames before ashes. Both seemed more pleasurable than admitting that your once lover had seen straight through you. 

Truly anything was better than admitting that what you felt for Dazai was something, still, close to love. 

You’d spent the evening steeling yourself, staring awake in the darkened room as you rehearsed what you’d say to Dazai, after the last conversation you’d had. It had begun to occur to you, perhaps, that your problematic dalliance could be traced back to the mixed signals that you continued to send his way.

Yet, when you finally mustered up the courage to visit him, Dazai was not at the hotel. The room service had already cleared out the lodgings, stripped the room bare and sterilized it after his departure. 

Dazai was gone. He’d left just like you’d wanted him to, for weeks. 

So, why did your heart drop like a weight from your chest to your stomach, the agonizing twist of abandonment tearing through your immortal soul?

Briefly, you stared at the empty room, blinking at the laundress who spread fresh linens across the mattress. She seemed to be startled by the fury and misery in your darkened irises, lips parting with words she wouldn’t speak. 

“The man,” you said, hating the sound of your choked voice, raspy as it made its way out of your chalky throat. “The man that was staying in this room. He left?” 

She stared at you for a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “He did.” 

“Do you know when?” 

When? Where? Why did you let him leave? How could he just walk away without even so much as a goodbye?

The woman shook her head once more, smoothing a wrinkle across the sheets before stepping away from the four-poster bed. The same one that you had tumbled onto with Dazai, twice in the past few days, your icy hands roaming across each other’s bodies.

“That is not my business,” she offered, as kindly as she could, frightened by the sharp coils of your features, as nasty as the glare that shone in your burning eyes. “I apologize that I cannot be of more help, miss.” 

You considered carrying on, objecting, perhaps tearing apart the room in a fit of anger. It could be upended by your monstrous speed before the skittish laundress even had time to protest. 

For less than a moment, you bared your fangs, the sheer white of your teeth glinting in the moonlight. A flash of fear sheared its way through the woman’s eyes, as she caught the menacing curl of your lip, before you recovered smoothly. Quickly enough for her to believe that it had been a trick of the light, a play of her imagination.

“No. I apologize,” you said, dropping your hands to your sides, ignoring the dissonance of your humanity and your eternal curse. So quickly, with the burst of anger thrumming under your skin, you’d resorted to thoughts of violence. Ugly ideas swarmed your mind, a vision of blood, beautifully ruby red, splattering across the creamy linens. 

Perhaps it was best that Dazai left. Hopefully, it was permanent.

Without another word, you left the laundress to her work, heading back to the front desk to see if you could weasel any answers out of the manager. He had been quite adamant in keeping it private, the whereabouts of guests, both past and present, under lock and key.

“I am merely curious when he left,” you said, growing frustrated after a minute of pursuing answers. Your sharp nails, stronger than that of a normal human’s, dug into the counter, small crescents indented in the dark wood. “Can you not supply me with that simple fact?” 

The man pushed his glasses up, shook his head once, before you huffed, nearly hissing under your breath. You would resolve to more drastic measures, if you needed to. 

“Tell me when he left.” You laid your sharp gaze into him, digging past the soil of his golden brown irises, until you had reached his mind, curling your own influence around it. “Dazai Osamu, he was staying in room 29.” 

The man straightened, looked at you with parted lips, like you were the only person, the only being, in the entire world. So captivated he was, both by your beauty and your confidence, the smile on your lips softened, yet not without its cruelty. But the touch you’d laid on his mind was one of comfort, a warm caress. A feeling of laying on your chest, your fingers curling through the few, thin strands left on his balding head. 

“Earlier this week,” he replied, nodding, recollecting the evening. “Yes, I remember him. Quite an outlandish fellow—very self assured. He’d checked out earlier than expected, but seemed in no hurry.” The fog lifted from the man’s irises for just a moment, as confusion hammered against you, and you lost your focus. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

You were quite out of practice, and dug deeper, controlling his consciousness. “Did he say where he was going? Or anything at all?” 

He shrugged, eyebrows knitting together in pain as your gentle touch laid way to a cold slap against his mortal intuition. “I can only assume he would be going home.” 

You scowled, face marring into an ugly expression, as your hands shook against the countertop. Then, you turned, scoffing, and released the man from your grasp. “Fine. Forget we had this conversation.” 

The clerk said nothing to you as you stalked away, leaving a trail burned into the carpet from your steps. You were nothing more than a stranger. 

Outside, you seemed to come to your senses, the moon, your oldest friend, your eternal companion, greeting you with a kiss. You stared up at it with distant longing, wishing, perhaps, that that silvery light could shroud you, wrap you up and take you away, just as the sunlight could. 

Three steps around the corner, out of the sight of any lingering travelers, you dropped to the ground, leaning against the brick exterior of the old hotel. It was a building on the brim of decay, the colors so much different than when it’d opened, wood paneling rotting away. 

Rotting just like anyone that had ever loved you had done. 

The hotel had been born after your family, after the friends you’d had when you were human, but the state of it was more grisly than any you’d ever been in. It would age, die, collapse into the earth, and you would walk in the rubble, still as divine as you were now. 

The realization of that alone had you doubling over, laughing into your hands, a sharp, terrible sound that echoed into the emptiness of night. 

So hard, you laughed, that it threatened to tumble into tears, ones that you kept at bay, even as you stared at the decaying hotel and the stars in the night that you’d probably outlive too. 

With Dazai gone, you felt closer to the brink of insanity than you ever had, in both your lives as a human and a vampire. It felt that some cord deep within you had snapped, and suddenly, you could not see a reason for your meaningless existence. 

Day in and day out you’d suffered, looking for a reason to continue on the path of moral righteousness, to ignore all the memories that continued to resurface, floating up out of the deep, black abyss. 

You had been unhappy as a human, unsatisfied with your existence, and you had been a loose cannon in your early years as a vampire; a risk to yourself and anything that dared to step in your path. And though you’d once believed yourself to court misery, you had only shared a gentle kiss with it, never taken it to bed and let it shroud you with itself. 

Misery, now, was the only word that could encompass the deep sense of hollowness that had been carved inside of you. Even Atsushi, with his kind eyes and a smile you loved so dearly, had not been able to ease you out of bed. 

Leave me for a few days, Atsushi, you’d told him, not sure if you were being selfish, or quite the opposite. I don’t want to hurt you. 

You didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt him. But there was, and perhaps there would always be, the version of you that longed for the violence. For when had you last been happy, free, without the restraints and the threat of murdering the one you loved most, if not when you were with Dazai?

When the third day passed without a drop of blood, and the hunger had gripped you so tightly that you were on the brink of delirium, you pulled yourself out of bed, and left the apartment. 

It was warmer, humid, the air stifling and pressing down on you as you roamed the streets, looking for something, anything. While the weather had very little effect on the dead, it was your hunger that dizzied you, a sensation that was so close to the suppressive heat felt as a human that you smiled, traipsed around as if you were in a dream.

Atsushi you’d spoken to only in brief increments, your fangs bared in a threat, warning him not to come any closer. And all he’d done was smile, tightly, and grabbed a fresh set of clothes, leaving for the rest of the week to retire elsewhere. 

Despite your treatment of him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel apologetic. If that was what it took for you to save his life, to keep him from seeing the ugliest parts of you, then so be it. 

Still, it only made you think of Dazai, who had seen all those sides of you. He had seen you, the very worst parts of you. He had seen you as a human, smiling softly at men on the streets as you slipped a hand into their pockets, stealing for the bread you couldn’t afford. He had seen you relish at the sight of fear, as the very same men began to see you as a threat, not a prize that could so easily be won. He had seen you happily drown yourself in murder, and he had loved you anyway. 

For as little as he’d shared about his own life, you’d understood him. It had been the reason he’d given you the gift of immortality, one you could never return.

Thinking of that — thinking of Dazai at all — felt like a betrayal. 

“Excuse me,” you heard a voice say beside you. A tall man approached, at least a foot above you, his eyes roaming across you with a lust you were all too familiar with. For a moment, you considered ignoring him, stepping away without turning to face him at all. 

He persisted, calling out for you again, when you finally gazed back at him with hard suspicion. 

“May I help you?” you replied, eyes narrowed.

He startled, taking a step back at your intensity. “Ah. I’m just passing through, and I’ve lost my way. I was wondering if you would direct me back to Crescent Street. I’m staying at the hotel there,” he said.

“Perhaps I am a traveler as well.” You glanced back at the river, the shimmering water winking at you with the reflection of the stars. “What makes you so certain I am familiar with the area?”

If you threw yourself into the water, tried to drown under the darkened depths, would you? Would the water flow through your lungs, killing you over and over until the sun rose, or would you simply breath it in and out as freshly as air, coughing it up when you emerged? 

Dazai had never told you these kinds of things. You’d never been bored enough to try and find out yourself. 

“Oh,” the man said. “Forgive me. I just assumed, based on how confidently you stroll the night. With all the murders that have been happening, I thought you must have either been comfortable, or just very stupid.” 

You smiled lazily at him, as the annoyance surged up in you, so fast and without warning. “I am certainly not stupid.” 

“Certainly not.” Then, the man, with his blonde locks and eyes the colors of sapphires, stuck a gloved hand out, leaning forward. “My name is Peter,” he said, curling his hand around your own, pointedly ignoring the ring on your finger. There was hunger in his expression, though it was different from your own, as he dipped his gaze towards the red corset that hugged your curves, revealing a hint of cold skin at your chest. 

You bowed your head gracefully, giving your name in response, before looking at him from under your eyelashes. From that action alone, the sultry burn you had spilled into your irises, his demeanor changed, lips falling open from your otherworldly beauty. 

Although your gift of slipping into the minds of humans, compelling their actions and twisting their memory had come in handy many times in the past, you’d never had to use it to lure a man to his dark fate. They came so easily, once they understood your intentions, saw even a hint of desire contrasting the gentle innocence you held onto. 

“I must be quite lucky, then, to have stumbled across you,” he said, leaning into you. You could smell the tobacco that stuck to his clothes, fine cigars that he smoked quite freely. There was a hint of another scent there too, sweeter, more feminine. It soaked deeply into his clothes, lining every thread as if it had been coated there. 

“Are you traveling alone?” you asked suspiciously, stepping away from him, to find a shaded area along the bank. There were enough trees to hide any hints of murder, and any lingering eyes had fled to the other side of the city, the busier side, where the port was. 

The storm in Peter’s oceanic eyes dissipated to serene waters. 

A lie came after, and so easily it slipped off his tongue, without an ounce of guilt, of the torment you had long since succumbed to. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. Even though his eyes said no, and the scent of the woman’s perfume agreed. 

“No wife?” you returned, smiling softly, as you reached the edge of the water, the waves curling up along the muddied rocks. “Kids?” 

He laughed. “I’m afraid I am still a lonely bachelor.” 

“Well,” you said, turning back around to trace his arm gently, your diamond clad finger on full display. “I’m not.” 

Although he said nothing, you could see the anger rise up in him, the frustration at being toyed with — and how quickly it rose. His fingers tightened at his side, jaw clenching, a cruel word launching to the tip of his tongue. 

“But,” you said, quelling your own rage. The threat of a violent man may have been nothing to you, but it would be enough to the other women that happened to be passing the streets. “Perhaps, we can ignore that small detail, for the time being.” 

You slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it onto the ground, letting it fall into the earth, soiled and dirtied by the splashes of water that rose up — where you belonged. Underground, buried without a ring that never should’ve been on your finger in the first place. 

You felt crazed, your spirit slipping from the shell of morality it had resided in, as it remembered what it truly meant to be free. And you were free, weren’t you? Your nature was never meant to succumb to laws set by mortals, for you were older than them, older than the society that claimed to be civilized, but was just as monstrous as your own. 

Peter parted his lips, formulating a response you cared little for, as you shoved him up against the nearest tree, his back hitting it with a grave thump.

Even though you expected his face to morph into one of pain, he stared back at you with intrigue, eyes alight with want. That alone made you sick, with him and yourself, for doing the same thing to your fiance that you would take his life for. 

You turned his jaw, caressing him softly as you exposed the vein, and dipped your head. 

It was unfortunate that it didn’t cause him any pain, an almost erotic feeling to humans when you sunk your teeth in, tongue lapping at the puncture. But you were far too hungry to care, and ignored the warning bells in your head as you drank and drank, until the blood and breath began to fizzle out, and he was but a corpse left in your arms. 

The taste grew rancid, sour in your mouth with death, and you released him, tearing the skin with a gruesome sound as you emerged from the vein. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in his expression, despite being gruesomely torn apart, and you threw him towards the river in disgust. 

“I would apologize to your wife,” you said, smiling, rejuvenated by fresh human blood. Although he had been an easy catch, the hunt was elating, nonetheless. “But she’s better off without you.” 

You leaned down, ripping a handkerchief from his pocket, before dabbing at your mouth, a few droplets of blood staining the tan cloth. 

A sigh escaped you, and you glanced back up at the moon, the stars, the endless universe that you hardly understood at all. If there was a god out there, or the devil as you’d once feared, would they grant this as a sin, or would you be a vengeful angel, cleaning the world of the scum that committed adulterous acts?

You placed the cloth across his neck before slashing your nails across it, tearing at the skin like you were an animal, just enough to cover your tracks. Then, you dumped him into the water, watched him turn over, onto his face, before sinking just under. 

For a moment, you stared, as the once living, breathing thing turned into something pale and ugly, floating along the current as if nothing more than a piece of litter, carelessly tossed aside. The mop of hair across the top of the waves, golden and shiny in the light, was the only evidence that he had ever been alive at all. 

Then, as quickly as his life had left him, he disappeared into the night, beyond your vision. 

You paused, feeling an eerie sense of nothingness creep up on you, as you realized what you had done. It had been so long since you’d held someone’s life in your hand like that, killed without a second thought, that the feelings of deliverance and regret battled so fiercely, they turned into impassivity. 

Licking your lips, you turned around, basking in the warm glow of the night, the short hours you had left until the sun rose once again. The days would grow longer again, as would your sleep, as the dreadful months of summer sequestered you inside. 

Picking up your ring, you left the bank, elevated. The ground seemed to fall below you as you meandered home, and the sound of the humans, those still awake at such an hour, though loud, was muddled. Nothing but a cacophony of nonsense as your own thoughts rattled even louder in your head. 

The closer you got to home, to Atsushi, the more you grew to question yourself, to feel sick with your own actions. It was weakness that had drawn you to such an act. You were nothing but a slave to your hunger, to the bloodlust, and the anger that rose up in you. 

Dazai had always been so controlled, so careful and cautious. You, on the other hand, had never been a master of your emotions — you went on killing without worry. A glutton when it came to the bodies you drained. 

“Everything alright?” your neighbor asked, smoking on the balcony as her husband slept inside, perhaps the only reprieve she ever got from the miserable man. 

You approached, waved her off, hoping that she was drunk enough to forgot she ever saw you. Maybe she wouldn’t even care that the woman living next door was a killer. 

That was a laughable idea. 

“Everything’s fine.” you spat out, sharply, not even bothering to look in her direction before you returned to your townhome, slamming the door behind you. It rattled on the hinges, the wood cracking, the frame beside the door shaking, before landing crooked.

A few angry tears emerged in your eyes, and you rubbed them away, your hand coated in watery, red blood, smearing into your skin. “Fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked to the bedroom, where you knew Atsushi wasn’t… Even though he should’ve been. 

You screamed, bending over to catch yourself, before you kicked at the wall, a large hole breaking the plaster from the strength you’d forgotten you had. Then you screamed again. And again. Your nails tore into your arms in a ghastly, inhuman way, the skin merely stitching itself back up almost as immediately as you ripped it. 

You could lay there, you thought, glancing over at the windows on the opposite side of the room, the beautiful, golden rock in the sky winking at you as she began to fade into the evening. How easy it would be, to open the glass panels, stand before them and let yourself burn into ashes. You could finally face the sun, let the last century and a half become a mere fraction of what your life could’ve been.

But you didn’t. 

You had some strength in you yet. 

Turning away from the window, you crept into one of the spare bedrooms, where the old coffin you’d slept in before rested on the ground. You’d gotten so used to sleeping in that bed, with Atsushi, that you’d almost forgotten you still had that sense of comfort. 

It was a safety net, one that you happily shrouded yourself in as you dusted off the black cover, settling into the silk red sheets you’d chosen yourself. The feeling of sleep there was so reminiscent of your old life, you half expected to open your eyes and see Dazai there, who had laid beside you, many years after death. 

For the first time in decades, you felt more like a vampire than a pathetic attempt of remaining human. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Atsushi had crept in and out that morning without making a peep, leaving for the office before the crack of dawn, and returning just as you were emerging from your coffin. 

It was, you knew, something that he had never been able to reconcile with your lifestyle — sleeping in such a way, like the old monsters did, the stories that had always been told. That had partially been the reason he’d offered to take on the daunting task of sun-proofing your home. 

“Are you okay, honey?” Atsushi had asked in his soft voice, eyes narrowed in concern as you emerged from the coffin. “I was worried when I didn’t see you in the room.” 

You smiled, tersely, suddenly remembering yourself, the entirety of last night being chalked up to a poor mistake. It was regrettable, even if Peter was a lousy husband, that his wife would wake up, not knowing where he was. And if he had children, what would they think of their father’s disappearance?

“I’m fine,” you said, shaking off those thoughts. Atsushi certainly didn’t need to be worrying about you, and the murder of a cheating man hardly seemed a sin compared to your hypocrisy. “It just feels strange sleeping in our bed, knowing you won’t be coming home.” 

Atsushi’s eyes softened. His romantic ideals had always been something you could speak to. “I know we’ve had a bit of a rough go of things, but…” he shrugged, reaching out to you, before retracting his hand. “I don’t like staying with Ranpo. I would rather be here, you know.” 

You knew. Of course you knew. It hadn’t been Atsushi that had insisted upon his removal from the apartment. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“It’s okay.” For a moment, he looked away, then rubbed his face. “I know we said we would wait — that I would wait until we were married, but,” a brief pause, as he swallowed. “Maybe, you should turn me now. If I’m still a risk to you.” 

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even if his eyes were steadfast. Atsushi still had faith in his humanity, still held onto it tightly, though every moment spent with you left it quickly slipping through the cracks of his fingers. 

But it was never an issue of marriage that had kept you from turning Atsushi. It was the fact that he was so good, so unlike you and Dazai, that you wanted to put it off for as long as possible. 

You smiled, though it was pained, and shook your head. Imagining Atsushi as a vampire was beginning to make you ill, the vision so against the will of the universe that you weren’t sure it could ever come to pass. 

“I’m okay now, I think. I’ve taken care of it.” 

He didn’t ask what that meant. 

You didn’t bother to tell him, either. 

PART VI

sorry this one is kind of a filler >< i promise there will be more exciting stuff soon !!

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @osameowdazai @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai dazai @iluv-ace @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @lacunaanonymousd @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer @astrial @adoreddior @jayborderline @fandomhoestuff @destinyisastar @kierabear-1 @rosepig @aikatoru @tetsuskei @erebus-et-eigengrau @moemoekunn @amanoava @blank03sthings @himikoslove @aenishas @mncxbe @acacia-koi @stromy-weather @sugaredpersimmon @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @iheartpieck @little-miss-chaoss

[aniseya]

“He has to be a witness to what she finds out about herself. It was very important that she had her own agency and that she made this decision independently of him. But I agree, him witnessing it draws them together so much more. So, it went: buffoon, terrifying villain, seductive possible teacher, and then romantic lead. [Laughs] So, I had to find somebody who could play all four characters — buffoon, murderer, a gentle teacher, and then as a romantic lead. You can imagine as I'm writing this, I'm just like, “Who the fuck are we gonna get for this part? Who is going to be able to do this?”

“But I think the way that you see The Stranger and Osha almost immediately Yin and Yang-ing, there's also an argument to be made there.”

“Actually, in earlier drafts, The Stranger had a line from that movie, which is, "I have crossed oceans of time to find you." A lot of Gothic romances were referenced - Jane Eyre, Rochester and sort of the Byronic hero for those two.”

“I was sort of struggling with what the last moment was. I was kind of struggling with it. It was very important that they feel like equals. It was very important that they felt, honestly, like a power couple. I didn't think he should kiss her because, while he's earned her respect, she's earned his, he's earned her allegiance, and she's earned his, I don't know if he has earned that level of intimacy with her. There have been displays of intimacy, but it felt like they weren't there yet. And so I said, “What's a kiss but not a kiss?” [Laughs] I was like, “I’m sorry, I can't think of something.” And the actors came up with holding the lightsaber together, and as soon as that happened, Hanelle [Culpepper], the director of that episode, set up this gorgeous shot. I realized, I was like, “Oh my god, this is the end of Fight Club, and I'm obsessed!” The last line of that movie is, “You met me at a very strange time in my life.” [Laughs] It just didn't feel like we were quite there.”

“Oh, yeah! Again, they’re Sith. It's a different vibe. To me, it's gonna hit different because of their allegiance and who they are. So, yes, it is framed as romantic, but I do think, again, it's not gonna turn out great. I think if he's training her, “One to hold the power, one to crave it.” So they're starting off as equals, but what's gonna happen? Like in Romeo and Juliet, it's amazing because right at the beginning they're like, “Okay, these two die. Let's start the play.” As you're watching this incredible love story unfold, and it's one of the most beautifully iconic plays ever written, in the back of your mind, you're like, “This is not going to turn out well.”

“I want to clarify: They are not necessarily doomed or destined to fail as a team. But the Sith rule of two denotes a power imbalance. Which clearly, due to the final shot, is not their relationship. Also, Plagueis complicates their journey as Sith, because we know his apprentice is eventually Palpatine. They will not defeat him.”

— leslye headland about oshamir for collider

[ch6sos]

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ teen!nanami headcanons

love my emo king so i decided to make headcanons for him because love himso sosooo MUCH <3 I am obsessed with nanami I am sorry guys for the amount of nanami but he is my beloved and my hyperfixation wooooooooooo

lmk if i should make an emo teen nanami as ur bf headcanon ill gladly do it sweetie pies

He is much quieter as a child and rarely speaks. I believe he will be more reserved as a teenager, not because he is shy, but because he dislikes talking to strangers. He is distant, but not unfriendly.

Haibara is the only person who is allowed in his room, and I do not make the rules. 

Owned an iPod/iPod touch (even though Nanami is the Samsung king) and he would stream his little emo bands.

As a teenager, he appears to be more immature and irrational, displaying difficulty in controlling his emotions sometimes. Despite his calm exterior, he is still a teenage boy so he has regular outbursts here and there.

HATED IT when he tried one of Shoko’s cigarettes; he most likely took one puff and began to cough as though he was going to die.

Sassy king who rolls his eyes and emo hair flips at least 7 times per second, 24/7.

“Nanami, can you do that thing?”

"Do not bother me at this time, Gojo." 

“OH MY GOD YOU DID IT.”

"What did I do."

"The hair flip thing... hahaha you need to cut your bangs."

"I prefer to keep it this way so I can focus on you with one eye and spare the other from seeing more of your face."

Haibara is an extrovert who encourages him to attend events and socialize with others. 

His backpack is tidy. His books are neatly organized, and his papers are not crammed together.

 He was forced to go to karaoke rooms with Shoko, Geto, Gojo, and Haibara, where he would sit and listen to them sing loudly.

"C'mon, Nanami... sing!" 

"..."

“Please?"

"..."

It turns out he was singing all along, albeit softly and quietly, while they sang along loudly to the screen lyrics.

He spaces out a lot when people talk to him because he just wants to go home.

Haibara is subtly affectionate towards him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder like many guys do. He doesn't push him off, but the other guy freezes and maintains some distance.

He once woke up from a nap and found himself wearing eyeliner, black nail polish, and eyeshadow. He immediately ran out to scold Gojo (it wasn't just him) (but he secretly liked it).

"Gojo, what the fuck is this?"

"This is your culture!" 

"Please refrain from touching me while I am sleeping."

“Hey! Who said it was only me?”

“Jesus Christ.”

Probably got a double helix piercing (that eventually healed when he became an adult) (sorry guys).

(Though he still has his earlobe piercings as an adult, he just never really wears earrings anymore. Though you can see the various holes.)

Geto accompanied him to get piercings, and despite feeling nervous at first, he ended up loving the experience and feeling badass.

"It feels good, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, trying to suppress a broad smile. As he arrived at his dorm, a dorky grin spread across his face. He stood in front of the mirror for several hours, hyping himself up.

Listens to My Chemical Romance, Nirvana, Van Halen, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, AC/DC, Linkin Park, Green Day, Foo Fighters, The Strokes, and Paramore. And more. :)

He would probably like gothic characters from cartoons or shows, like Raven from Teen Titans.

If you quietly make your way into his dorm room while he's listening to music, you'll catch him singing out the lyrics to his beloved emo songs. As the music moves him, he'll start air guitaring and air drumming with fervor. However, if he catches you witnessing his private performance, you'll see a flicker of embarrassment cross his face.

Gojo once tried to dye one of his hair strands purple or blue, but he failed. Instead of turning the strand the desired color, it only lightened his hair slightly, resulting in a lighter shade of blonde that looked like gray hair.

"Gojo, you made me look like a grandfather. I should've done it myself.”

"Looks great on you, Nanami! Fits you too since you kind of act like a grandpa.”

"Oh you, son of a—"

He secretly owns a Tamagotchi named Helena after remembering it is a My Chemical Romance song.

Wept when they split up.

Has secretly attended several concerts, raves, and gatherings, enjoying the kindness and energy of the events.

Has previously used an Ouija board with Gojo, Geto, and Haibara, and the "spirit" liked him.

He goes to the Japanese equivalent of a Hot Topic to get his clothes.

He smells earthy and musky because he is emo, and he probably has a cologne fragrance bottle shaped like a skull.

He rarely posted on MySpace, and when he did, it was only about his music and book reviews.

Likely wore a fake lip piercing, a silver skull necklace, and one of those spikey emo bracelets.

Read Scott Pilgrim comics for a while. 

He was not too dry, so he used emoticons like "-_-" "-.-" "._. ".-." "^_^"

In his spare time, he enjoys reading books about horror and mystery. 

Owned a black Nintendo DS and always handed it to Haibara so he could play with it. Was not upset when Haibara accidentally dropped it in the water, but was sad that he lost his Pokemon progress.

Never had a genuine crush on someone, though when he does he becomes shy and awkward around the person he has a crush on, often finding himself avoiding them like the plague. Whenever he catches sight of them, uncertainty clouds his mind, nerves all over the place.

Despite his efforts to suppress his feelings, they only seem to intensify. This is his first experience with a serious crush, and his initial reaction is to try to shake off the emotions, but he soon realizes that he can't - he's simply head over heels in love.

Whenever he sees them, he does a cute, dorky thing - he goes to his mirror, fixes his bangs, and hypes himself up. He sprayed more cologne than usual, coughed a little, and made sure his skull necklace, helix piercings, and slight eyeshadow looked good. He gives himself several minutes for a pep talk because he still gets so nervous.

He fidgets a lot, constantly finding ways to occupy his hands even when he appears outwardly calm. It's as if he can't help but engage in some form of repetitive movement, whether it's tapping his fingers, twirling a pen, or adjusting his sleeves.

He also stammers a bit sometimes especially when talking to someone he likes.

Talks to Haibara about how he feels most of the time. Out of everyone he trusts Haibara.

He draws on himself when he is bored. He intended to get a tattoo, so he drew on himself to see how it would look.

He has a journal, emphasizing that it's not a diary, where he writes down his emotions. He finds solace in jotting down his innermost feelings as he often struggles to express them verbally.

In his journal, not a diary, he vents a lot. He is frustrated with himself because he is so bad at expressing his emotions. When he wants to, he can't, and he just pushes people away, which he despises.

"Sometimes I wonder why. Why do I have to be like this? I do want to talk to people and express my emotions to them, but I could never. It genuinely scares me, and that is something I want to fix about myself."

Owns several band shirts and wears them to bed. When he is older, they're smaller on him. I wonder why.

When he's out with Haibara and the group, he always wears his headphones and drifts off while listening to music.

“NA-NA-MIIIII!”

*pretends not to hear gojo*

In the modern world, he would be the quiet student who consistently gets top grades, sits at the back of the class, and rarely participates.

When someone shares the same interests as him he tries not to look too excited but ultimately fails.

As a teenager, he adamantly refuses to pursue a romantic relationship but secretly desires one to fulfill his need for affection.

Thus, he spends his time reading romantic novels, gaining insights into how the male protagonists treat their significant others. This newfound knowledge inspires him to learn how to treat his future significant other.

Even though he is mature for his age, he sometimes wishes he had been raised differently. He genuinely feels like he is wasting his youth by not spending more time being a teenager.

Converse + Vans are his specialty and they’re all beat up.

He sees Geto as a fashion inspiration because he is another emo king.

When he's not in uniform, he enjoys wearing oversized, tucked-in T-shirts paired with sleek black pants and a studded belt. His fingers are adorned with multiple rings, and he complements this look with a sleek black watch.

He always spends an extra dollar to buy someone something from the vending machine. Need a soda? He gotcha.

He always seems to be munching on something, whether it's the crunch of Doritos or potato chips. However, he doesn't seem to have as much of a sweet tooth.

an emo king who deserves the world

a/n: i love my goat

[victorianpining]

Free Talk on Saturday, September 14th: "Let the High God Judge Between Us": The Inversion of Hope and Sin in A Study in Scarlet

I am very excited to announce that I have been invited by Romancing the Gothic to give a class on A Study in Scarlet this September. I'll be analyzing Jefferson Hope as a narrative mirror to John H. Watson, the queer subtext of his thwarted love story and subsequent quest for justice, and the ways in which Watson uses his role as the narrator to manipulate the reader's sympathies in favor Hope (and himself).

The session will last approximately 1 hour and runs twice on Saturday, September 14th, once at 11am Eastern and again at 4pm Eastern.

Sign up for the 11am Eastern session

Sign up for the 4pm Eastern session

The event is free to attend, though you can pay money towards your ticket if you wish to. In full disclosure, I do get a cut of any additional proceeds, and I'm in a good enough spot financially that if you're feeling generous, I encourage you to explore the rest of Romancing the Gothic's upcoming offerings and put that money towards a ticket for another event! Romancing the Gothic also records their talks, so if you aren't able to make it, it will eventually be available on their YouTube channel.

This is obviously a huge step for me professionally. I am extremely thankful to Sam Hirst at Romancing the Gothic for this opportunity, as well as the consistent and generous support of this community. You all already know that I had basically given up on having any literary or academic ambitions for a while there, and I genuinely don't think I would have been able to get here if you all had not been so kind and encouraging when I tentatively began revisiting those aspects of myself a few years ago and in the years since. Thank you, I love you, and I *Hope* (hah) you enjoy the talk if you attend!

[emrowene]

Webserials and Why You Should Read Them

Welcome to a short primer on webserials! The concept behind them is pretty simple: webserials, also called webnovels or webfiction, are serialized online novels. If you read long fanfics OR webcomics, you're probably already familiar with the concept. Authors release new chapters on a fixed basis, usually one chapter a week (but sometimes more, sometimes less).

You can find webserials in several places: on big platforms like tapas and royalroad, on individual authors' websites or patreons, or on newsletter platforms like substack.

So now we know what webserials are, but why should we support them?

Because webserials are fun. Because webserial authors are sharing amazing works online for free! Because the publishing industry is disproportionately hard to get into for queer and marginalized folks, and those are the people writing webserials.

To climb a little higher onto my soapbox, I believe webserials are the future of accessible and diverse publishing. There's been more and more discussion about the problems with traditional publishing: how publishers are turning it into a "fast fashion" industry, spitting out books while overall book quality decreases. Regardless of whether you believe that, it's true that the industry prioritizes "marketability" over anything else. Experimental books, passion projects, books that have a lot of heart but no pithy "tropes" -- they stand little chance in the world of traditional publishing, and self-publishing is incredibly inaccessible for most of us. It's expensive, but more than that, it takes an incredible amount of time and effort. It's a business, and at the end of the day, some of just want to share the stories we love with people we hope will love them too. And that's the beauty of webserials!

One complaint I've seen about webserials is that "you never know what the quality will be like" - and I've seen this from people who regularly read fanfiction! Like fanfiction writers, we have our beta readers, we have our editors, we pour our hearts into developing our stories. So give us a try!!

Some recs and places to get started under the cut:

My webserials:

Fractured Magic - A queer epic fantasy series about a broken hero’s hunt for redemption and an elven prince’s quest to rescue his kidnapped king. The two estranged friends are racing against time - and dead gods - to achieve their goals. Will they make up and work together before it’s too late? (This story is currently ongoing)

The Case Files of Sheridan Bell - An old-school detective mystery set in Tamarley, a fantastical city with magical murders and doors to other worlds. Basically (queer, autistic) Sherlock Holmes but with more faeries. The first mystery is complete; the second will be published soon!

Some other webserials I follow/followed from start to finish:

What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling - a queer gothic romance novel about a priest and a vampire.

The Warthog Report by @warthogreporter- this substack contains a selection of nonfiction writing, misc. fiction writings, and Battles Beneath The Stars, a serialized story about a tournament in a fantasy world, styled like a fighting game script/walkthrough.

Kiss it Better by DogshitJay - A (definitely 18+) queer adult romance about the messy endings and messier beginnings of love.

Warrior of Hearts by Beau Van Dalen - a queer slice of life romance following an online friendship that blossoms into something more. (Beau has lots of other great webserials as well!)

More places to look:

Tapas (Community novels page)

Royalroad (mostly known for its litrpg scene, but you can find other novels and genres here as well!)

The ao3 "Original Works" tag!

[three--rings]

You Should Watch The Spirealm/致命游戏

What is it?

A 2024 cdrama based on the danmei webnovel Kaleidoscope of Death. It's a censored version of a BL novel, with thriller, mystery, and horror aspects, 38 45-minute episodes.

What's it about?

A young man accidentally gets drawn into a virtual reality video game that involves passing tests in a series of doors. Once you start playing, you cannot stop and if you die in the game, you die in real life. He meets a frustratingly mysterious, competent, and attractive man in the doors who recruits him to be part of his game solving team. Well, specifically to be his partner. Lots of gay subtext ensues as they fight through door after door seeking to get to the final door in order to end the evils of the game. (The book is a little different, as it's more supernatural.)

So basically it's a infinite flow deadly game situation, with m/m romance.

Main Characters:

Lin Quishi/Ling Juishi (novel/drama versions of his name)- Our protagonist. A smart graduate in computer science, good at games. Well meaning but a little naive to start out.

Ruan Nanzhu/Ruan Lanzhu - Our love interest. In the novel he crossdresses often and he presents as a woman for the whole first arc. Super intelligent, expert at the game, extremely flirty but reserved at the same time. Got one look at Lin Quishi and said That One.

Other Characters, aka the Found Family:

Ruan Nanzhu's team consists of a pair of twin brothers (one young and dumb and one uptight), a hot doctor vet, a woman whose main job seems to be cooking dinner, and a not-so-stable dude.

Then there's Li Dong Yuan, a rival player who becomes reluctantly-tolerated friend, and his cute female assistant. And Tan Zao Zao, an actress who hires the team to help her in the games and also sticks around persistently.

They're pretty much all delightful and some may start off silly/annoying and end up breaking the hell out of your heart.

Okay, but what's the VIBE?

Big Guardian vibes. The team of lovable scamps investigating weird supernatural (?) type mysteries? While the boss and the guy he fell for have a situationship? Totally. This definitely has more of a horror feel than Guardian, though, even though they tone things down from the novel.

Each door is its own setting, and some are more scary than others. So one is a mental hospital, one is a traditional village, one is a gothic manor, etc. Lots of tragic female ghosts who have been wronged and are getting revenge. The one that really creeped me out was the one with the children with the eggs. It does a lot of creepy rather than really horror. It's not truly gory at all, as it was made to air on Chinese TV and they have strict limits to violence.

The camerawork and set decor is really nice, actually. It looks great most of the time and a lot of the effects seem to be practical. It looks a lot better than Guardian is what I'm saying, if not quite to a film level.

How Gay is It?

Oh MY GOD. Okay look, this show was NOT supposed to be released, but thank whoever put it up for that two hours. It's really incredibly blatant, like really as much as Word of Honor was, although because the plot is focused elsewhere it's maybe not quite as in your face. But the actors UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT and there's so much longing and SO much implication. After a while, everyone basically just treats the main couple as a couple even thought it's never talked about.

I mean episode one there's Only One Bed and at the end of their first meeting Ruan Nanzhu gives Lin Quishi a RING. I mean, the flirting is also BLATANT. I also just find this a really romantic show, despite the Not Talking About It thing.

Is it a Happy Ending?

So, It's Complicated. I'm trying not to spoil anything and this show is pretty easy to have spoiled for you. There's definitely a good bit of tragedy in this show in general. Characters die and it's really sad. Like, this is a plot with stakes and if no one we liked ever died, it wouldn't be the same.

I will say I consider this show to have a happy ending, but you do go through some pain first. Essentially the main couple does have a separation, but there is a reunion before the end. There's also a scene that will give Guardian fans fucking PTSD, but the show does a fix-it on its own, okay? I do feel that I have to warn for that, though.

Where can I watch it?

The show is legally available on Viki with a subscription. Obviously there are other ways to find it as well, and links went around before it was picked up by Viki so check tags if you need those.

I really hope this encourages some people to watch this show, as it's really well made and a great time. It's one of a very small number of danmei adaptations we've gotten, but a lot less people have watched it since it's modern and had a weird release. Honestly, it's well written and acted and filmed and you should give it a shot.

(All gifs by @ruanbaijie, thank you very much for allowing me to use them. Check out their blog, there's such gorgeous stuff there!)